". . . But the past does not exist independently from the present. Indeed, the past is only past because there is a present, just as I can point to something over there only because I am here. But nothing is inherently over there or here. In that sense, the past has no content. The past -- or more accurately, pastness -- is a position. Thus, in no way can we identify the past as past." p. 15

". . . But we may want to keep in mind that deeds and words are not as distinguishable as often we presume. History does not belong only to its narrators, professional or amateur. While some of us debate what history is or was, others take it into their own hands." p. 153

Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History (1995) by Michel-Rolph Trouillot

Saturday, September 6, 2014

So Under The Gun I Can Hardly Think

Yet, thinking is exactly what I am under the gun to be doing, supposedly because I can think, and fact check and do all those things.

To make everything more complicated in the 90 degree heat and the stupendous humidity, when I settle in to do today's quota of pages, the primary library I use, for no reason, locked out my log-in, declaring either i.d. or password was fraudulent, or maybe both.  Reset password, still I am not a user the system recognizes as legitimate.

I phone and am told stupid stuff by someone who doesn't know how things work. I go to two different places (it's a huge research facility with special collections in different locations) -- the first one is closed on Saturdays, though it was open on Saturdays last month --  and am instantly re-legitimized manually, thereby learn that I have materials from ILL waiting -- but at another library elsewhere.

The upshot is, I spent over three hours out in the sun and humidity that I should have used for fact checking and so on and so forth.  Plus another hour + prior to noon, doing the usual Saturday errands, hoping to be finished before it hit 90, though it was already 90, but I didn't know that.

And -- it's Fall Fashion Week! Every female college student with the least pretension to a career in Fashion is in the City.  (So then, how come all the bar - restaurants are packed and nobody's in the designers' stores -- yes, I live where every designer has a loss leader flagship store.)  Bumper to bumper traffic for some reason -- even at 10 AM -- on Houston.  And many tourists with melting down screaming children who are not enjoying their MILFs shopping til they drop for themselves.

I came home, soaked from head to toe -- mentioned, didn't I, the humidity? Drank over a quart of water at one go. Then I gave thanks to the Great Air Conditioner for our reliable, sturdy little unit which keeps our (small) place a cool cave.

All of us sometimes have days like this.  It really could be worse.  O yes, easily, a whole lot worse.

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