Binary Thinkers

I've been bugged by a discussion we had in my Virginia Woolf class. We discussed the idea tha humans are binary thinkers. Woolf's Orlando assumes this -- actually counts on this.

What would this do to us if we really believed this? There would be no gray, no pink, no in-between at all. Is the world really good or bad -- black or white -- sick or well? I don't think so.

I've been having an MS episode. I generally feel pretty good, but there are times when my right leg gives out and I have nauseating dizzy spells. But the spells are brief. So am I sick? Or am I well? Whatever. The fact is that for a few moments each day, I don't feel well. But nobody always feels well. I'm getting old and I have to deal with it.

I don't think anyone is all good or all bad. No one can be completely anything -- except Paris Hilton -- she's completely stupid. Oh, and Orlando Bloom -- he's completely hot. Oh, and my grandmother -- she's completely whacked.

I'm completely behind in school. I have to finish one of my three 15-pagers today. I need to get that one out of the way before I can start my Virginia Woolf paper. I have to have that one done by next weekend -- "Anti-imperialism in To the Lighthouse." Maybe Chris will help me get a catchy title for this. He's really good at that.

The cousins are coming next Sunday. They are all staying at Doug's. Serves him right. He builds a house with 4 bedrooms and 2 1/2 bathrooms, a gorgeous kitchen, a beautiful family room, living room, dining room, office, etc. Then, he lives there all by himself. He deserves the descent of the cousins upon his life -- all fucking 9 of them. Eric, his wife Anne-Marie, Julia, Lynn, her husband Harim, their daughter Ciela, James, Nancy Sara, Michael. Doug had to actually buy furniture. Hah! And he is going to have to buy cooking utensils -- and is going to have to cook. Again, Hah!

Ophelia is playing outside with Uncle Joe. She really loves the wind. She prances all over the back yard and chases the leaves. She has learned how to really play ball. She brings it back and drops it for us. Yeah! "Stick" doesn't work as well. She plays, "Let's growl at Momma and play keep away." I don't like this game so much. Damn Tally for teaching her this crappy-assed game.

Great. Joe came in and left her outside -- this warrants excessive yipping. Of course, the dog across the street, Bud, comes to see what is going on. Bud warrants excessive "big girl" barks. So we have, "Yip, yip, Woof, woof." And this goes on until I bring her in. She is so attached to people. She runs outside to pottie and then had to come back right away.

Michael is not well. He, too, has been having dizzy spells and leg weakness. It started a few days ago. The doctor told him it was just a virus. Mom, in her usual exaggeration of the medical situation, thinks that he has blown a blood vessel in his head. [Recall: Michael had a wart on his ear -- that was cancer, according to Mom. I had blurry vision -- that was a detached retina (of course, it was MS, which is bad, too, but ...). Cat had food poisoning -- that was a ruptured appendix -- wait, this isn't working -- Cat did have a ruptured appendix]. I'm worried about Michael.

Okay. I have to go. I have to finish a two-page paper on A Room of One's Own. Okay, okay. I have to start the paper. But it does have to be done today. So does my "Women in Local Color" paper.