Indulging My Inner Child

image

A co worker and I were on a business trip to Minneapolis recently.  After a stressful day of meetings, we opted to forgo another dinner with business-types making nice.  Instead we hit that homage to consumerism, The Mall of America.

Neither one of us are clothes people, so that was out.  We were perusing for a place to eat and enjoying a chance to walk around when I spotted that familiar yellow sign.

“Lego!” I yelped,  before reigning myself in.  Can’t be too immature around a coworker….

But, it turned out I need not have feared.  My coworker was happy to go in and wander through.  I was drawn to the build-your-own-mini kiosks, but kept holding back…until I saw her start diving in.  We both had a grand time constructing minis and filling up pick-a-brick cups.  She kept saying “this is SO what I needed after today.”

Yes, at well over 30, I totally played with and bought Legos tonight.  It is the best fun I have had in a while.  And I kind of think I may just keep my legos on my desk at work from now on.  A little bit of de-stressing, creative play to keep my inner child entertained….

Defending Medievalists (Possibly on horseback… with a spear…)

I’m currently taking my last official university course ever (!), which happens to be Old English.  I’m kind of psyched about it—I always wanted to learn Old English and I finally have an excuse.  I learned years ago that Middle English has the power to mesmerize fifteen year olds, so imagine how much more powerful Old English must be!

The same week I started this course I happened to read an article on the internet (font of all that is accurate and truthful) which made an off-handed remark about suspecting that interest in the Middle Ages was rooted in a yearning for the days when the world was dominated by white men.  With an emphasis on the WHITE part and the MEN part.  All I could think reading it was… this person doesn’t know many medievalists, do they?

Going on the basis of my academic experience, medievalists are a surprisingly diverse group (as related graduate programs go.)  Okay, so there might be slightly higher representation of men in medieval literature classes than in other graduate literature classes.  My Old English class is still predominately female, but the men aren’t as overwhelmed as they would be in say a Victorian Literature class.  (I have yet to meet a male Victorianist; legend has it they exist, but I remain unconvinced.) But even at my super white university there’s a respectable degree of ethnic diversity in the class.  And that’s been the case for most of my medieval studies type classes.

Yes, some of the stereotypes you might have about medievalists are probably true.  I am more convinced than ever that most people who study Old English secretly want to be Rohirrim.  (I include myself in that group).  This actual conversation took place in my class:  Me:  I thought Tolkein didn’t leave a complete Rohan language.  Didn’t they use Old English as the language of Rohan in the movie?  Dude behind me:  Yes.  Forth Eorlingas!

Which brings me to my most important point about medievalists:  If you’re planning a party, and you have to invite mostly literature scholars, you want to invite as many medievalists as possible.  Trust me:  they’re the fun ones.  Creative writers can drink and get high better than anyone else, but sooner or later they’ll wind up sprawled on the couches intermittently making out and talking about negative capability.  People who study contemporary literature don’t enjoy anything.  And Victorianists… well, it might depend on what kind of party.  If you’re going to be watching costume dramas and eating cake, by all means invite them, but still include the medievalists.  (Please note: Yes, I realize I just made unfair generalizations, just like the person I’m complaining about.  But they are based on first hand research.)

Because medievalists know how to have fun.  As a rule they don’t take their subject too seriously.  They’ll be the first to make jokes about what they study.  And they tend to study delightfully insane stuff—my friend S for example studies pacts with the devil and cross dressing saints.  How fun is that?  This is probably what the blogger I’m venting about failed to realize:  just because they study and are fascinated by an era dominated by white men, and I’ll take that further and say rich, white, Christian men, doesn’t mean they think it was any better than it was.  Probably more than anyone else they know how screwed up the era was.  Half their work is pointing that out.  They just have a lot of fun doing it.

And if some mead gets drunk and some Tolkein gets quoted, it’s just an occupational hazard.

On the other hand… Forth Eorlingas!

Happy Birthday, Kristy!

Okay, gentle readers, join me in wishing a happy birthday to Kristy!  The appointed day is actually tomorrow, but every now and then I manage not to miss a deadline around here–not often, mind you, but birthday celebrations are important things–they often have better-than-average food, drink and activities.

However, given that our intrepid co-poster is currently in a location surrounded by family, she might not be experiencing any of the above-mentioned boons of one’s birthday.  Which makes me sad.  Your birthday should be the one day you should get to be as bossy and demanding as you want with zero guilt.  The rest of the world should be so lucky to bask in your presence, bow at your feet, let you pick the activities, give you total control of the remote, and bring you tasty food!

So, my fellow blogger, may you have a fabulous day, and feel free to put your foot down should anyone suggest anything not to your liking.  Make your demands!  You deserve them!

Magnetic Regression

This weekend I became the possessor of some super-strong, rare-earth magnets.

And reverted to age 7.

I’d forgotten how entertaining it can be just to use little magnetic disks to pick up random crap around the house (totally fun with a metal Slinky and the refrigerator) or to push each other around on the table (that kept me enthralled for a good 20 minutes).   And making OTHER things magnetic?  Beauty.  There’s a straight pin on a piece of soap in a little dish of water pointing due north right now.

Problem?

Super strong magnets?

MEANS super strong.  I actually pinched my fingers when they got in between two magnets that really wanted to slam together.  And I had to futz for 15 minutes with one of the TV remotes when I got it too close to a stack of the little buggers (it refused to respond).

And I wondered…..when did I get so far away from something so simply fun?