Introduction to Huh?

Today, I discovered that graduate courses with the title words "Introduction to..." aren't. For three hours tonight, I sat at a conference table completely baffled by discussions of Lacanian discourse, signifiers and signifieds, the Phallus (but not the kind I'm familiar with), lack, desire, the Symbolic, the Real (which isn't really), the Imaginary, and the like. Completely over my head. It became apparent for whom in the class this was an "introduction to" and for whom it was "advanced." The "advanceds" won and the intro to's stayed pretty silent. I was quiet, except for an occasional, "I don't understand...so what if you're like blind, and can't see the mirror...do you, like, never enter into the Symbolic Order...and what the eff is the symbolic order, anyway?" There were a couple of occasions when I must have laughed or smiled at how strange everything sounded to my virgin ears because the professor asked me if I had something to add. I hate those moments. I tried to think of something in a few seconds of awkward silence, but couldn't. Oh well. I thought about how weird it is to be back in school and feel almost like I've never been before. It's a great class, though. No, it is. That wasn't sarcasm. Everyone always thinks I'm being sarcastic, but I'm not. No, really.

I feel very far away out here in Davis, CA. Sometimes I try to imagine what's going on with all of my friends at a particular moment. My mind's eye darts from the halls of whitman-walker over to ontario rd, down to an office I've never been to in Virginia, back up to Adam's Morgan, up to Frederick, or wherever else you people spend time. That's all. No punch line. Just a thought.

I'm very fractured tonight. Not even sure if I should post this one, because it seems like I really have a bunch of nothing to say...but you're the one reading it, not me! If I were you, I would have abandonned this blog a long time ago.

well, there it is. Maybe next time.

DC Does Davis

Or is it Davis Does DC?...

A few weeks ago, not three blocks from my house in little ol' innocent Davis, CA, bandits broke into a bank armed with shotguns and proceeded to escape with a bag of loot. Unfortunately for them, the clever tellers had stuck one of those explosive ink devices in the bag with said loot and the whole plan was ruined. While the plan failed, Ozzie and I felt the attempt to make us feel at home was clearly a success.

I recently went to a party with some of the older psychology graduate students at Davis. One woman was there with her brother, and after a few minutes of conversation, we found out that both of their parents are clinical psychologists, which seemed perhaps a slight sore spot for the two of them. The brother quipped, "Don't ring any bells." We laughed and laughed! "You don't know what we'll do," replied the sister.

Favorite Word of the Week: phantasmatical (if anyone can define it, please let me know (Dan?)...dictionary.com isn't helping).