Gold>Knowledge

I spent weeks listening to Doctor Jones talk at length about Skara Brae.

Today I paid about a fiver to watch the much more famous Doctor Jones talk very very briefly about Skara Brae.

Can we not find a different site to talk about?

That's all I can be bothered to say about the film.

I'm just making this up as I go along.

I have two archaeology exams, one I like to call sociology with dead things and the other is the Indy lessons with less adventure and excitement or general interest at all. Kind of like if the films were just him filling in paperwork.

Past papers for the first one are a series of questions. I must answer two tomorrow. The questions are generally a mix of the following:

Archaeology is a form of destruction. How should we preserve what we discover?

Is there a present bias when we look at the past?

Neanderthals, what's up with them?

People don't seem all that interested in heritage. How would you make it more interesting.

You've just dug up a famous figure's corpse. What now?

Darn those metal detectors! Discuss.

Do you ever stop and think academia is the most ridiculous way of accessing how intelligent a person is? I mean I'm sitting at an A in sociology with dead things for saying 'man, that church is old, we should make it into something new' and 'I don't think this website on vikings is reliable because the font is comic sans'. I got a B in the practicals for saying 'prehistory sure is old'. Oh it is insane, insane, insane.

And here I thought I'd be outrunning boulders

"So what do you think? We got an oldie?"

I look up at the big golden mess of hair that constitutes loud mouth. I know his name. I'm sure I know his name but it escapes me. I wish I was better at names. I hold back a laugh but I know I'm grinning inanely. I mean yeah it's old. It's a goddamn skeleton of a fallow deer from the whatsitlithic period. He's smiling back but then he picks up a leg bone and points at the broken joint.

"See it's all worn down here. Maybe from like a lot of moving?"

He's being serious. I am not a biologist. Or a boneologist. Oh god jokes about boners.

"Well it's a theory, at least." It's all I can manage without giggling.

"Huh?" I take a deep breath. I haven't really spoken much today, sometimes my mouth forgets how to move. Plus you know I'm short. Sound doesn't carry very well from where I stand.

"It's a theory." It came out all sarcastic and I sort of feel like I should say more but the fat woman in a bad waistcoat is back to talk about pelvic bones and plates in skulls. Every grad student in this department seems to be a crazy hippie or a fatty. We move onto a dead reindeer. The words please stop sitting on the antlers amuse me.

"Do you think that's a cut? Kinda looks worn." He hands me a lump of something.

"Yeah, I'd say so." And so we ponder what cut up the reindeer.

For a moment my vanity flares until I remember I'm in scruffy mode. Like hella scruffy mode. He's just proving the judgement I shared with the german girl. This guy loves to talk. I prove this theory by sticking out my boobs a little. Skinny guy on the other side glances down. Loud mouth talks.

Just another day in archaeology. Talking shit and touching bones.

You read it, you can't unread it

Soil. Here is a picture of soil. Here's a picture of turf. Turf is like soil but with grass. Here's a landscape with no soil. Here's a picture of soil in Greece and here's a picture I took in Italy where they didn't cultivate with terraces. Very odd, don't know why they did that. End of class. Woo freakin hoo.

Talk, talk, talk. No facts, no figures. One minute science is dumbed down to the point that I'm insulted, the next there's a lot of words I'm not sure I could pronounce and he does not explain. That history degree is looking a lot more attractive. It's not that I balk at the very mention of science. I enjoyed chemistry even though it was forced upon me due to disastrous admin problems. There was some solace in the structure of it all and sheer exhilaration making something from smelly liquids. I still have my tiny piece of silver stuck in a blob of blue tack and I kept my slime for as long as possible but it gathered dust and went a bit icky. But I had to shut out half of my brain to do it. The part that didn't buy it. The part that didn't give a damn about how things worked. It was better than physics, physics almost broke me. Maths reduced me to a blanket clad miserable mess with a tub of ice cream surrounded by numbers I didn't get but it was a qualification I was determined to achieve. That same switched off floating through. You can't imagine the disappointment that dogs me twice a week in that cold, clanky lecture hall. There was hope last semester even when it was dull there was always something interesting and my lecturer had a sense of humour. This semester is killing me, sapping away my will to give a damn.

Plus side, s'almost holiday time and I spent my afternoon in the museum looking at the mummy. This is archaeology. Pah! to your soil samples.

Open your heart, tear it apart

I woke up early this morning. I had plans. Plans that stretched as far as get up early and have a shower before everyone else uses the hot water. So I woke up early this morning as very previously mentioned due to having a dreamless night. I mean I love my dreams, thanks tons I dunno crazy dream god sandman figure, but they tire me out. Like in Science of Sleep but with less wandering around naked and falling in love with French girls. And I'm not as attractive as Gael Garcia Bernal even when he's dressed as a woman and bumming crazy priests.

So I woke up early like I said but I missed my chance at cleanliness. Plan failed. The shower did not happen until lunchtime, lunchtime kinda happened at breakfast and studying did not get done at all. Instead I sat and wrote out all the stories I have online so I can have a legible copy of them. Yes, I know there's a machine that prints off words found in a Word file but I prefer to read my own handwriting, crappy scrawl though it is. Also I'm totally low on ink.

A couple of hours drinking (I have to point out here that I originally wrote 'a couple of hours studying') became far too long and while I'm not drunk (thankfully because there's no way in hell I would make it to the library tomorrow with the depression that follows my drinking, I'd stay curled safe in my bed thank you) I'm so very tired. I guess it's the sacrifice one must make for the greater good. The greater good being awesome presents from the very lovely CL (including a Byron postcard! I didn't find it until I got home and got far too excited, so awesome!), acting more gay than I should with the sexy Jane being a fan of the mens after all, making babies with Rob and naming our offspring after Mike. Also I can't think of anything to say about Joe who was also there because I'm tired and all he did was be his usual silly self so there's a mention, which will do.

I should be sleeping. I'm already ruining my plan for tomorrow which is pretty much the same as today's plan but with less fun. I've got friday night to look forward to though. Having a girly night out with the loveliest gal and the vaguely lesbian friend. And then before I know it, it'll be Monday and uni will begin again (although wow do I even have classes on a monday this semester, could I have a 3 day weekend? Holy crap I must check this out when I'm not in bed. I'll put it in big so I'll remember. COULD I HAVE A 3 DAY WEEKEND?) and my proper Indy lessons begin. How To Dig 101. Fuck yeah.

I'll need wellies. And a romantic interest. And a hat/whip/pistol combo. Put it all together and what d'ya get?

Motherlicking fortune and glory, bitch.

Revolution's fine, but give me the high fives and the hugs and I'm happy

Today was a successful day. The train arrived in town on time, I didn't have to wait for my bus in or back home, I handed in my essay so I won't have to think about nuns and feminism for a few weeks at least, fopp had two cds I wanted for a fiver each and Indiana Jones was referenced again in my archaeology lecture. Good times, man, good times.

My eye is socially acceptable now. I can walk down the streets of this mean town and not be gawked at. Well, mostly. I never knew I made so many weird faces when I'm thinking. It's a problem. One I ain't solving so deal.

On friday archaeology was so dull we all just about cried. The one piece of information I remember was about how the Peruvians who lived in the first known city were permanently stoned on aphrodisiacs! Yay for Peru I guess. This week was much better. The actual subject matter was bleh, a lot of it is since we aren't digging until after Christmas, but every so often we got a little snippet of something better. For instance, did you know that Arthur Pendragon has been reborn and lives amongst us now awaiting his awakening as the King of England? It's true! Apparently he's laid claim to Stonehenge once he takes the throne. Good on you, you poor, pathetic madman!

We had quotes from Byron, Orwell and a very angry Aboriginal woman. Sometimes I miss my English Lit degree. Sure all the poems we studied were about sex or death or sex with dead people (yay for Browning) but it was cosy and familiar. I'm still getting used to a course like Archaeology which borders on science too often for my likes. Then we get lectures like today where it's all romantic poets and philosophical ideas. These I know. But I remember the girls in the English classes and bah! I'm better off even with Mouseface. Plus y'know there's the geek references to Indiana Jones and how he could have just flown over to England if he wanted the Ark of the Covenant so much.

When I came out of he class a certain little midgetgirl skipped out in front of me, itty bitty ass wiggling and stupid squeaky voice yammering on her phone. I'd forgotten she existed to tell you the truth. I haven't seen her since that first couple of weeks, I figured she'd stopped turning up to avoid me. She changed her subjects last year to avoid being in English with me. Apparently she blamed me for ruining her choices, like I'd deliberately picked it so she couldn't. I found this ridiculous but then I didn't know what she was doing behind my back so it did seem rather odd out of context. But there she was today. I was close enough to shove her down the stairs and claim it wasn't me and whereas a month ago I would have been close to murder now I felt nothing. She was just a nobody. A nobody who is less attractive than me even with the eye thing I've got going on. And that felt damn good.

I actually had some free time after all that. No essays due for a couple of weeks, no tutorial work either. I just have to rest up for my long(er) day tomorrow so I've been reading Joey Comeau and eating strawberries.

I leave you now with the world's best detective, mostly cause I found it in a folder I didn't know I had on my desktop.

No candy in your till, no cutie left to thrill.

First week done. Lets wrap up.

Did I manage to miss a class through sleepiness and ickiness? Check

Did I manage to meet someone new and babble incessantly about crap? Check

Did I see an impossibly attractive male and fall in love despite not talking to him and missing half a lecture about I dunno, a map or something? Mhmm check

Did I see someone I wish was dead, dying or at least being generally hated? Why is she alive? Why is she in the one class that I just wanted to enjoy myself and a girl who hates me, stole my boyfriend from me and generally just creeps me out. Ugh it was a bad way to end my week.

Archaeology despite her is just what I hoped it would be. The first thing he mentioned was time team, followed swiftly by the ever-wonderful Indiana Jones. Next came the vague promise of treasure and last came el phrase fantastico that archaeology was 'the most fun you can have with your pants on'. How could I not love this subject?

I'm exhausted now, was at work early today. Got my hand slammed between a bookcase and a hard place and man is that ever painful. Crazy sore.

Not much else to say now. Too tired. Bleargh and all that.

Julie's birthday tomorrow. Yay for Julie!