ricardienne: (Default)
Last night's Colbert Report was super classical! (I watch on the internet, a day or so behind and especially when I'm grading) Oh, and it also had Anthony Everett, noted popularizing historian of Ancient Rome on it.

The contrast was interesting! Colbert's opening segment was an incredibly tasteless routine about Donald Trump. Seriously problematic jokes about coerced pathic homosexuality --- oh, hey Catullus/Martial/Juvenal/... But really. There's an interesting point of continuity with the ancient world, there: male identity, power, authority, who gets to speak, sexual domination. But elderly (white, male) professorial types waxing fondly in British accents about the Empire, mostly in terms of its military and its exciting imperial personalities? Not so much.

I'm not bothered by the gross generalizations, the really bizarre statements about Romanization (straight out of the 19th century), the reduction of Rome to a homogenous machine enlivened with a few salacious anecdotes. (I'm a pedant and I have a field of expertise: of course I think he said everything wrong!) I'm just a little annoyed that this is what history, and especially Roman history apparently means. When there are so many more interesting things being done, and so many more interesting people doing them (plenty of whom are popularizing personalities, I might add), why is it still comforting traditional authorities and Great Man history?
ricardienne: (Default)
I think I need to resign myself to being cranky whenever we start a new era in music history. It isn't so much the over-generalizations or dubious comments on things that bother me so much, like implying that everyone involved in the Wars of the Roses was named Henry,* as it is with the things that are JUST PLAIN WRONG. Like that Henry Tudor became Henry VIII. I suppose it's better that he's given incorrect information about things that aren't actually relevant to the class at all, but in that case, why does he even bother? (And a further NB to the professor: it isn't pronounced "GLOCK-es-ter.)



*I mean, isn't it more like 1/2 Henry, 1/4 Edward, 1/4 Richard, or maybe, 3/7, 2/7, 2/7? Or maybe 3/8, 1/4, 1/4, and 1/8 for people not actually named Henry, Edward, or Richard. I wonder what the proportions actually are, among the major Wars of the Roses players? Or in the Shakespeare plays.
ricardienne: (chord)
I think this is the first year in a while that Easter Week and Passover have coincided so nicely.

The effect? I feel very lonely. I was talking to my dad the other day, and he said that he now regrets never having taken N. and me to a seder -- my dad saying this! -- so we would at least have that experience. He had to go to religious school all the way through high school; my mother was taken to chuch at Easter and Christmas. At least they knew what they were not taking part in. And me, the story of my life has been trying to find out intellectually all of these things that I am never going to have spiritually, or even culturally. I haven't regretted being an athiest so much in a long time.

My lesson was awful today. Well, okay, not awful, but not great either. I got a lecture on memorization -- I should be memorizing pieces the moment I start to learn them, so that there is never a piece I can play that I can't play from memory. In other words, this fourth suite prelude that I've had almost a year on should be memorized. Of course, I can't play it yet. The low point was hearing that my attempts as rubato were "not based in reality at all." But the whole movement is a disaster for me. Whenever I play it, I feel like this giant, crude, barbaric thing who is beating poor J.S. Bach over the head with a cudgel or something. It sounds terrible -- all scratchy and rough and labored. I should just give up, but instead, I'm supposed to learn it and perform it in a month. Right.
ricardienne: (Default)
The food in the dining hall is depressingly bad. I mean, the only things you can count on to be okay are the bagels and the cake. But they're always out of bagels by dinnertime, and I really shouldn't eat cake very often. It's all so gluey, the food. And too salty. Agh! The problem is, I'm still used to meals being pleasant times. Times when I can sit and talk with my family, where I can enjoy the food, and be relaxed. I'm used to looking forward to meals. You'd think that after 14 weeks of eating fairly gross food alone I'd have learned.

And now for the crackpot Harry Potter Theory of the Day:

Reasons why JK Rowling is a Yorkist

I. Nearly-Headless Nick
He was executed in 1492. Whether you buy into my Perkin Warbeck Theory or not, it is impossible to ignore the fact that Henry Tudor (Henry VII) was king during this period. Henry won the Battle of Bosworth by treachery, killing the last Yorkist king, Richard III there.

II. The House of Gaunt
Am I the only one who did a double-take when (s)he saw that chapter heading? The House of Lancaster (Henrys the IV, V, and VI) was famously descended from John of Gaunt, the third son of Edward III. (The Yorks traced their descent back to the 2nd and 4th sons). The Gaunts of the Potterverse are degenerate near-savages, obsessed with their own right and lineage. These are definitely not the good guys.

III. Neville Longbottom
While we're on the subject of names, the Neville family was major player in the Wars of the Roses, mostly on the side of York. Anne Neville was married to Richard III.

IV. Hogwarts, Hogsmead, The Hog's Head
The Cat, the Rat, and Lovell our Dog
Ruleth all England under a Hog

The White Boar, or Hog (as in the above bit of doggerel) was the emblem of Richard III.

V. Draco
The dragon (L. draco, draconis) was the emblem of Henry Tudor. Furthermore, Henry's colors were green and white, the heraldic verte and argent: the same colors, essentially, as those of Slytherin House.

This is obviously a work in progress, and I realize that there are at least as many arguments the other way, including one gigantic, enormous one. (Points if you spot it!).



The difference between myself and my roommate:

So today she almost went out without a bag. She was going to carry her wallet, key, and water bottle around with her. Why? Because she couldn't find the only one of her bags that matched her outfit. Fortunately, I thought to remind her that she had one which matched her shoes.

I, on the other hand, am liable to say to myself "I'm wearing a brown skirt and a black shirt and can only find a blue pair of socks. Oh well, I don't mind being a bluestocking."

If the first anecdote is telling as far as my roommate's character, it's indicative of mine how many times I've made the above (bad) joke to myself.

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