Oh, hai. It’s been a while I guess. I got distracted studying maths in the library.
I’ve started an MSc in social research methods, and it includes… maths. And it turns out I’m worse at maths than I remember. I remember being great at maths. But back then, computers didn’t exist, and neither did puberty. So I may fail quant. But qual is pretty sweet so far (leaving more time for maths homework). Here’s my ‘participant observation’/ethnographic homework for my qualitative research methods class. I decided to follow white people around London Chinatown.
OMG you guys my baby did this awesome thing the other day. I am totally going to tell you about it, and you can’t stop me because this is my blog.
Your first reaction will be to make a barf-face. At least, it should be. I hate it when people tell cute stories about some amazing thing their baby did. Ooh, the baby did a solid poo. Aah, the baby is snoring. Wooooh, the baby threw up then ate its vomit. So I will tell you a similarly banal thing, which you should by rights, then barf upon.
So today is National Poetry Day in the UK. Happy National Poetry Day! And by ‘Happy’ I mean ‘Fuck’. Because I wanted to be sincere and generous of mind on National Poetry Day, but instead I listened to some actual poetry and started smashing things. Like, in my mind. And by ‘smashing’ I mean ‘being really mean and sarcastic’.
It might be the postmodern elements of the internet that have destroyed my concentration, producing in my online activity a simulacra of intentional evasion of essentialist identity, which of course is more complicated and flattering than the image of some scatterbrained nerd whose tab key has fallen off her keyboard.
It was 2009 when I moved to London and finally decided to overhaul my website with WordPress, because it would simply be too embarrassing to leave it one second longer. (It had been puked onto the internet one night in 2007 with the help of a Dreamweaver tutorial template for an imaginary hotel that could only have housed the hopeless and destitute.)
Instead, I worked, lazed around, facebooked, got married, tweeted, had a baby, and mislaid my career.
Now, rather than attempting the impossible task of devomiting my flat, it seems the perfect time to return to the public internet to devomit my website.
Some things may not be where they were.
If you can’t find a resource or document that was up previously, you can contact me here.