Basically A Rant in the Sun on English History, Because I'm Cool Like That

Tuesday 2 July

Well. The short story is that summer blows and I can't wait to go back to school in August. I'm really excited to see all my friends again on occasions other than the extremely sacred one of 2-Pi Day and not be bored out of my mind and take a class other than frikkin STATS and exist in the glorious syncopation that is Boulder, Colorado.

I don't know why the hell people ever come back to suburbia after they leave it. It's so banal. I'm sorry. Maybe that's why we're all so crazy. We weren't ever supposed to live our lives like this, amongst the white picket fences and perfectly groomed lawns and safe homes. I don't know. Maybe if you never leave, it's easier. But it's hard to be content anymore in this place.

So yeah. I work a lot. I've gotten really good at yelling at the rich bastards that park their Lexuses in the clearly labeled loading zone, tanning awkwardly (wearing a swimsuit in public is just plain embarrassing anymore...and I'm like kind of bikini ready, save for my stupid tan lines), and sweeping pinecones off the sidewalks. I've also perfected my skills with a leaf blower, which is pretty legit. Yeah manual labor!

I also got a ten-dollar tip the other day, and it was akin to receiving an earldom, because I am literally that broke.

The reason I like this job is because I get paid to read, basically. I've finished 18.5 novels whilst roasting in the sun this summer. And I couldn't be happier. I've been on a Vonnegut binge, and he's fucking awesome. Breakfast of Champions is probably the best thing I've read in two years, with Timequake a close third (ish—The English Patient changed my life, so that has to be up there). Like balls. He's so amazing. There's something just so frank and honest about his style that I just adore, and his whole worldview is fascinating and he can articulate the agony of humanity better than I will ever hope to do. I've tried some Ian Fleming, and that was decent. James Bond FTW. Now, I'm halfway through Catch-22 and that's hard to follow sometimes, but today at work I was laughing like a maniac in my perch for a good two hours.

I also got about three-quarters of the way through a behemoth of a book about Eleanor of Aquitaine, the Arthurian-applicable mother of Richard the Lionheart 12th century queen, who was basically the bitchingest lady in Europe since Morgan le Fay and until Elizabeth Tudor. She's a badass. An under appreciated, unduly forgotten female badass of history, and I think that's tragic.

I've got this really weird insane passion for English history. I love it almost as much as I love American Revolutionary politics, which is saying something.

So, it's only fitting that my current Netflix binge is The Tudors, a ridiculously raunchy, pseudo-historical drama revolving around the court of Henry VIII—you know, the fat bastard with the six wives. They are, as I explained to Ellie: The Religious One (Catherine of Aragon), The Skanky Bitch One (Anne Boleyn), The Ill-Fated One (Jane Seymour), The Lucky One That Made It Out Alive (Anne of Cleves FUCK YEAH), The Fucking Annoying One I Can't Fucking Stand (Katherine Howard—oh my god in the series I want to punch her in the throat), and The One Who's Pretty Much A Nurse For The Old Fat Bastard (Catherine Parr). English History with Maggie Rose. It'd be way better than any college course you'd ever take.

So basically even though some of it's remarkably inaccurate (like the fact that Henry had two sisters instead of just the one, and that Sir Francis Bryan came to court earlier, and that Wosley died before Margaret, and that Henry was an old fat fuck by this point in the series while he's actually kinda hot in the depiction), it's kinda cool to see it brought to life (especially since that involves Henry-"Pantydropper"-Cavill as the Duke of Suffolk, aka THE HOT DUKE, aka why isn't he single and I not a broke ass scholar with six dollars left to my name?).

I've also realized, with all this glorious history, that all I honestly want to do with my life is go to Europe and just sleep on trains and look at castles and churches and shit and maybe have a couple of good brews. Until that happens, I cannot die a happy and contented human being. It's been the only thing I've really wanted to do since I was eight years old and read my first book on Elizabeth Tudor. Like, this predates my desire to win the presidency. It's a Big Freaking Deal.

So if any of you want to go, like, get a couple beers and look at the scaffolds that historical figures were executed on, then hit me up. I'd be down with that.

However, another thing I wanted to do was be a princess, because, really, what eight year old girl DOESN'T want to be a princess. I now realize that being a princess prior to their being demoted to just head of state and nothing but a ceremonial figure would have been fucking miserable. Being a female, you had no rights whatsoever, excelling in needlepoint was the pinnacle of success, you were basically married off to the highest bidder, you were expected to be this perfect model of society when your husband could do whatever the hell he wanted, and if you didn't have a son, fuck biology; you're probably a stupid whore and it's your own fault. That is profoundly not the life for me, honestly. I need more autonomy than that, thank you very much. You can have your stupid fucking gowns and shit. I'll take my Ramen and doctoral degree.

Honestly, even being alive before the discovery of penicillin or whatever would have been fucking miserable. For Chrissake, the primary occupation was basically "DYING OF SOME TERRIBLE FUCKING DISEASE AND/OR CRUEL AND UNUSUAL EXECUTION." And quite frankly, if you weren't a wealthy man who was too stupid for politics, you were pretty much screwed one way or another. It is no wonder to me why they were such devout Christians—basically anything was better than what they were living, and even experiencing life as it was is probably enough to not want to go to  something worse in hell. Religion was literally the only source of hope for them. It's like Vonnegut said in Cat's Cradle—even if it is a pack of foma, harmless untruths, you have to live by those that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy. And religion did that for them, and even with all the things the church did to consolidate power, and even though I may not personally align with them concerning the meaning of life, there is indeed something noble in that they made people believe their lives didn't suck as much as they did.

Anyway. I like history. Especially when you really do start to look at it from a universal point of view and start to realize that your feelings are exactly the same as someone else's in this grand root system that connects us. It makes you think of why the hell we keep persevering on this swiftly tilting planet, and I think that's important.

Then again, I may have just been in the sun for too long, but you know. Maybe it's still important or something. :)

Anyway, I'm going to watch some more Netflix and study for my stats exam tomorrow. Maybe I'll blog again this week. Maybe. We never really know anymore. :)

Whoever you are, wherever you are, I hope your summer's going well and that you're soaking up the sun and that you keep moving forward and that you're staying hopeful because there are so many reasons to smile in these times. Thanks for reading. :)