ealusaid

I'm not really able to handle a journal that's actually, like, interesting and shit to people I kind-of know. So there's this, which I almost never write in, and goldjadeocean at lj, in which I am the tealiest deer you ever did see about my minute emotional breakthroughs in therapy or the rocks in the stream on my campus or stuff like that.

I would offer something cool I've written, but people seem to like porn and I'm bad at porn. I tried an Elizabeth the Golden Age/Temeraire crossover with an Elizabeth/Raleigh/Bess threesome and it was just all them sitting in their bedclothes talking about The Faerie Queene because I hate it. Which contains no sex, and is so boring I stopped writing it.

And I totally forgot about it until last Thursday, but I have a research paper due on Tuesday about Sir Phillip Sidney's Astrophil and Stella, which is a really creepy series of sonnets about this guy's obsession with his 13-year-old cousin. Except for the part when it's about, I don't know, how much he loves pancakes. I haven't done any research yet so I don't know what it's about except for him whining because he can't get laid.

I really hate my 16th-cen lit class because now I'm realizing where all the sexist racist shit in the world COMES from. I started reading Ben Jonson's The Masque of Blackness but then realized I'd already read that wank.

My other paper is on women in the late middle ages, which makes me a lot happier, because I already knew the worst bits so now I'm just finding places where the sexism doesn't apply and things like a load of female artisans who were able to handle their businesses completely independently of their husbands, and it's an excuse to read more Christine de Pisan.

So I'm going to go do homework, and I leave you all with some really awesome pants.