Happy Day Before Lupercalia!

(Unless of course I got it wrong, and the ides of February were the 13th, in which case: Happy Day After Lupercalia!)
(For anyone who hasn't the foggiest what I'm on about, Wikipedia = love, although this is a more academic version.)

Today was much better. My philosophy paper got pushed back till Monday (hurray!), so I am much less stressed about that; although Wirth did go on and on and on and on in philosophy today. (Gar. I will not rant, I will not rant--but, for the love of god, when you're reading a poem--even if it's a philosophical poem!--you don't stop after every single sentence and restate what Holderlin says five times. I'm not even exaggerating, either. Rrrrargh.)

Also I went to the opening of the Lee Center, and got to see Julia (yay!) and then gabble incomprehensibly with joy with Andrew--why are we still so excited? We've seen it before. Oh yeah--because it's amazing, that's why. And Father Sundborg talked, and various other people, and gave out awards and thanked people and as Carol said it was rather like the Academy Awards, only better, because we were all flipping out with joy that we finally get a gorgeous theater. Mmm, yes indeed. Which means y'all must come to see Tartuffe so you can see the gloriousness. And this is, what, the eighth time I've said that? Hee! I'm just really thrilled, you can probably tell...

And tonight is firstly a lot of work on philosophy and poli-sci, and secondly, going to Pageant with Anneka and Sam, huzzah! There is no better way to celebrate Valentine's day than a drag show with friends, I think.

Speaking of which, happy Valentine's day (even if Lupercalia is cooler), & I love you all madly, deeply! :)

ETA: Also, I love Neil Gaiman:
Roses are red,
Violets are purple,
Which is a very hard word to rhyme
And makes me happy that on February the 14th we don't traditionally have to give each other oranges.
-Neil's Valentine's Day poem

...I...um...

There are no words for Pageant, except possibly shrieks and catcalls, if those can be counted as words. It was hilariously brilliant, and actually quite good--I was really impressed by Miss Deep South's puppet show, my god. So fabulous.
It was really wonderful being in the audience for a show like that--with everyone so into it, the cheering and the yelling and the laughing. It's a connection....

My brain is broken, obviously. Cogitation? Nonexistent. Hmm. The perfect state in which to finish reading Marx, oh yes indeed.


I am not broken though. That's what I meant to say, about being all connected and happy and yes, that's a good Valentine. That's love. I love you.