Ash the Mighty

Mornings were invented by a sadist.

Don’t get me wrong, I love watching the sun rise over the mountains. It’s one of the more beautiful things in this world . . . but I want to go to bed afterwards. Dawn should be on the other end of the “going to bed, getting up” spectrum. Now, even though I love this phenomenon, I curse it with all the strength in my soul (which hasn’t been much recently. I’ve gotta quit those spiritual cigarettes, they’re killers).

Today I get to go and listen to a guest lecture about the role of the woman in Sufism. For those of you who don’t know (for your sake, I hope all of you), Sufism is a branch of Islam which is heretical (think the relationship between Catholicism and Protestantism . . . now throw in praying 5 times a day. Almost there). The ironic part of this then, is that women generally didn’t have a part in any Islamic practicing. While it is true that women were given more leeway in Sufism than in any other part, that still doesn’t say much for it. Anyway, I’m not excited. I’m bringing homework from another class so that I won’t actually fall asleep during the lecture.

Other than that, nothing really exciting. I’m turning in my thesis proposal to my advisor today. I’m also going to my other advisor to get him to sign off on my graduation. Loads of fun and excitement!

Take it sleazy,
Ash

Mornings were invented by a sadist.

Don’t get me wrong, I love watching the sun rise over the mountains. It’s one of the more beautiful things in this world . . . but I want to go to bed afterwards. Dawn should be on the other end of the “going to bed, getting up” spectrum. Now, even though I love this phenomenon, I curse it with all the strength in my soul (which hasn’t been much recently. I’ve gotta quit those spiritual cigarettes, they’re killers).

Today I get to go and listen to a guest lecture about the role of the woman in Sufism. For those of you who don’t know (for your sake, I hope all of you), Sufism is a branch of Islam which is heretical (think the relationship between Catholicism and Protestantism . . . now throw in praying 5 times a day. Almost there). The ironic part of this then, is that women generally didn’t have a part in any Islamic practicing. While it is true that women were given more leeway in Sufism than in any other part, that still doesn’t say much for it. Anyway, I’m not excited. I’m bringing homework from another class so that I won’t actually fall asleep during the lecture.

Other than that, nothing really exciting. I’m turning in my thesis proposal to my advisor today. I’m also going to my other advisor to get him to sign off on my graduation. Loads of fun and excitement!

Take it sleazy,
Ash

My, what a blah day.

On Sunday I leave for the great . . . something . . . north (not really white right now, is it?). I’m taking an entirely too long a car ride to stay enirely too short a time in Denver so that I can make sure that the incomparable Klairice doesn’t trip and fall down the stairs while drunk at her going away party. That’ll be fun! Actually, it really will be. There’s no single group of people who are more fun to sit back and watch while they’re drunk off their asses then a bunch of (vaguely ex-) Rennies.

But then of course I’ll have to come home. That won’t be cool. Don’t really have a choice, mind . . . but what can you do?

Have you noticed that I don’t actually HAVE a topic to discuss with you folks today? I’m just sitting here trying to filibuster long enough so that I can justify actually taking up web space with this particular blog.

Have a day.

My, what a blah day.

On Sunday I leave for the great . . . something . . . north (not really white right now, is it?). I’m taking an entirely too long a car ride to stay enirely too short a time in Denver so that I can make sure that the incomparable Klairice doesn’t trip and fall down the stairs while drunk at her going away party. That’ll be fun! Actually, it really will be. There’s no single group of people who are more fun to sit back and watch while they’re drunk off their asses then a bunch of (vaguely ex-) Rennies.

But then of course I’ll have to come home. That won’t be cool. Don’t really have a choice, mind . . . but what can you do?

Have you noticed that I don’t actually HAVE a topic to discuss with you folks today? I’m just sitting here trying to filibuster long enough so that I can justify actually taking up web space with this particular blog.

Have a day.

Because I’m just a sissy . . .

. . . I got all misty in class today.

As most of you know, I’m doing my senior thesis this semester (if you didn’t know that, read below), and the way such things work at the UofA is that you sign up for a class in which your teacher is your thesis advisor. Mine decided that we would all be working on WWI, and so once a week we get together and discuss the actual history of the war. Below is the summary of a story told in a personal narrative which was read in class today:

The British and the Germans were lined up in trenches on opposite sides of the viscous “no man’s land” which made WWI so infamous. That day it was the Germans who were trying to take the British trenches, and had been throwing men into the “meat-grinder” all day. At some point a German officer had managed to “impale” himself on the barbed wire, quite close to the trench. Watching the man suffer and writhe proved to eventually be too much for a young British officer who told his companions that he “just couldn’t see the chap suffer any longer.”

With that he climbed out of his trench, ducking a bit as bullets and shrapnel continued to fly all around him. He made it to the German soldier, freed him, and lifted him onto his shoulder. He then turned and carried the man all the way across no man’s land to the German trenches where he was met by a German High Commander, who took the soldier onto his own back, but not before taking the Iron Cross from his uniform and giving it to the British officer. The Brit then turned and walked slowly back to his own side. Not a single shot was fired at him. In fact, for as far as soldiers could see what was happening, the battlefield had fallen silent.

I’d love to finish this story up with some platitude, but I don’t have one. I don’t know who either German soldiers were, nor who the British soldier was. All I know is that even in the face of pure hatred between “enemies,” there is still always room for a little grace. Not a sentiment that you will catch me writing about frequently, so enjoy it while you can . . .

Because I’m just a sissy . . .

. . . I got all misty in class today.

As most of you know, I’m doing my senior thesis this semester (if you didn’t know that, read below), and the way such things work at the UofA is that you sign up for a class in which your teacher is your thesis advisor. Mine decided that we would all be working on WWI, and so once a week we get together and discuss the actual history of the war. Below is the summary of a story told in a personal narrative which was read in class today:

The British and the Germans were lined up in trenches on opposite sides of the viscous “no man’s land” which made WWI so infamous. That day it was the Germans who were trying to take the British trenches, and had been throwing men into the “meat-grinder” all day. At some point a German officer had managed to “impale” himself on the barbed wire, quite close to the trench. Watching the man suffer and writhe proved to eventually be too much for a young British officer who told his companions that he “just couldn’t see the chap suffer any longer.”

With that he climbed out of his trench, ducking a bit as bullets and shrapnel continued to fly all around him. He made it to the German soldier, freed him, and lifted him onto his shoulder. He then turned and carried the man all the way across no man’s land to the German trenches where he was met by a German High Commander, who took the soldier onto his own back, but not before taking the Iron Cross from his uniform and giving it to the British officer. The Brit then turned and walked slowly back to his own side. Not a single shot was fired at him. In fact, for as far as soldiers could see what was happening, the battlefield had fallen silent.

I’d love to finish this story up with some platitude, but I don’t have one. I don’t know who either German soldiers were, nor who the British soldier was. All I know is that even in the face of pure hatred between “enemies,” there is still always room for a little grace. Not a sentiment that you will catch me writing about frequently, so enjoy it while you can . . .

HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!
Uh-oh
Oh dear
AAAAAAHH!!!

HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!
Uh-oh
Oh dear
AAAAAAHH!!!

Bad hippie, no cookie!

Apparently I’m a very bad blogger. I’ve updated this thing like twice since I first got it. People have even been nice enough to read it, and yet still I do not do as I should and keep up with it. Hence, I am a bad little boy. Guess someone will have to spank me.

I’d like to apologize for that last bit. I may have Tourette’s. I’m looking into it.

fuck!shit!fuck!

See?

On to more exciting things: …
On to less exciting things: I’m killing time instead of doing research for my senior thesis. Fun, huh? While I don’t mind the concept of a “well rounded” education, I still don’t see the point in asking a Medieval history student to do his thesis on some aspect of “The Great War” (World War I for all you normal people out there). In all likelihood, I will be spending the rest of my academic career studying such lovely things as mass slaughter, the Black Death, and smallpox (should I actually get into Grad school, of course), so I figured I may as well do something similar in this situation as well. I’ll be studying the effect that the Maxim Machine Gun had on the war (again, for all you norm-ies out there, the Maxim was the first truly effective machine gun, firing over 500 rounds a minute at a range of up to 2 miles. This is what made WWI the blood bath that it was).

So that’ll be fun. And I’m sure I’ll ALWAYS have people willing to hear about it. Not really, of course. The only person I know who’s sick enough to want the details is going to play with the Anti-Claus in only a few weeks, effectively taking from me my sole audience member for the death and destruction lectures (you know who you are)! Damned stupid ICE!

Oh well. Bed calls. No really. It’s got a lovely singing voice that is rather reminiscent of Jewel yodeling. Actually, it’s closer to Shakira, but I feel uncomfortable making that particular comparison, because my bed could never shake it’s hips in quite the lovely fashion that she could. God bless the belly dance.

Tea and cake or death.
Ash

Bad hippie, no cookie!

Apparently I’m a very bad blogger. I’ve updated this thing like twice since I first got it. People have even been nice enough to read it, and yet still I do not do as I should and keep up with it. Hence, I am a bad little boy. Guess someone will have to spank me.

I’d like to apologize for that last bit. I may have Tourette’s. I’m looking into it.

fuck!shit!fuck!

See?

On to more exciting things: …
On to less exciting things: I’m killing time instead of doing research for my senior thesis. Fun, huh? While I don’t mind the concept of a “well rounded” education, I still don’t see the point in asking a Medieval history student to do his thesis on some aspect of “The Great War” (World War I for all you normal people out there). In all likelihood, I will be spending the rest of my academic career studying such lovely things as mass slaughter, the Black Death, and smallpox (should I actually get into Grad school, of course), so I figured I may as well do something similar in this situation as well. I’ll be studying the effect that the Maxim Machine Gun had on the war (again, for all you norm-ies out there, the Maxim was the first truly effective machine gun, firing over 500 rounds a minute at a range of up to 2 miles. This is what made WWI the blood bath that it was).

So that’ll be fun. And I’m sure I’ll ALWAYS have people willing to hear about it. Not really, of course. The only person I know who’s sick enough to want the details is going to play with the Anti-Claus in only a few weeks, effectively taking from me my sole audience member for the death and destruction lectures (you know who you are)! Damned stupid ICE!

Oh well. Bed calls. No really. It’s got a lovely singing voice that is rather reminiscent of Jewel yodeling. Actually, it’s closer to Shakira, but I feel uncomfortable making that particular comparison, because my bed could never shake it’s hips in quite the lovely fashion that she could. God bless the belly dance.

Tea and cake or death.
Ash