Freckles & Doubt (
freckles_and_doubt) wrote2008-06-10 01:07 pm
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sweetly reminiscent, something mother used to bake
Too weird. Cooking malva pudding is apparently a pervasive process, to the point where I can still smell it on my hair after two days. I am not sure if the effect of this is to mark me inescapably as a stay-at-home domestic type, or if it'll operate closer to David's well-known Vanilla Theory Of Seducing Women (men smelling of vanilla are comforting and safe and associated with kitchens, baking and nurture, therefore get rebuffed less). While he has never adequately demonstrated the validity of this theory to my scientific satisfaction, I possibly ought to go and stand hopefully in a well-ventilated area full of interesting men just in case.
I have emerged from the fog sufficiently to finish this batch of marking, which is something of a relief as I was becoming more than somewhat bored with dragging the pile fruitlessly between home and campus in order to studiously ignore it. Having marked the lot more or less by pretending not to, I have to conclude that students are odd. They had an option between a slightly tricky question on World of Warcraft and its potential for online eroticism, and an easy, wide-open one on the kinds of narrative gaps fanfic usually fills. I spent three lectures on fanfic and half a one on WoW. The WoW question answerers gave me some lovely essays, whereas the fanfic ones were uniformly blah. Memo to self: less information next time, the resulting panic seems to inspire students to actual intellectual activity.
Last Night I Dreamed: an epic dash through forests and into the cellars of houses to evade the golem armies staggering through the trees. I woke up abruptly with my heart pounding at the point where the traumatised girl in the white dress sat bolt upright on her bed and screamed because of the incredibly significant shapes of the ceramic jugs on the cellar wall.
I have emerged from the fog sufficiently to finish this batch of marking, which is something of a relief as I was becoming more than somewhat bored with dragging the pile fruitlessly between home and campus in order to studiously ignore it. Having marked the lot more or less by pretending not to, I have to conclude that students are odd. They had an option between a slightly tricky question on World of Warcraft and its potential for online eroticism, and an easy, wide-open one on the kinds of narrative gaps fanfic usually fills. I spent three lectures on fanfic and half a one on WoW. The WoW question answerers gave me some lovely essays, whereas the fanfic ones were uniformly blah. Memo to self: less information next time, the resulting panic seems to inspire students to actual intellectual activity.
Last Night I Dreamed: an epic dash through forests and into the cellars of houses to evade the golem armies staggering through the trees. I woke up abruptly with my heart pounding at the point where the traumatised girl in the white dress sat bolt upright on her bed and screamed because of the incredibly significant shapes of the ceramic jugs on the cellar wall.
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The question actually asked them to try and account for why WoW weddings take place. Of course, next year's question is going to read: Online eroticism in WoW usually extends no further than "lol i took my armor off!!!11". Discuss.
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World of Wankcraft
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Dreams often have their reasons, of which the reason knows nothing.
Re: World of Wankcraft
Also, icon swoonage. Gotta love me some Ichabod Crane.
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Lie mirror'd on her sea,
Confounding her astronomers,
But O! delighting me
- Ralph Hodgson
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Ah, Berkeley library, how I miss thee ...
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& did it work?
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Wait, is Tipsy Tart also South African?
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& I was actually enquiring whether standing around smelling of malva pudding where there are interesting men worked! ;)
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(This is not, in fact, a response to flattery, I meant to ask you on Monday and got repeatedly sidetracked.)
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We have some more Doctor Who to offer in return, including a delightful Agatha Christie episode and a double featuring, according to the teaser, killer shadows in a library.
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PS: mort, try making some gin-soaked malva, pretty please?
PPS: Hey, who turned out the lights?
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