This is what I do on my off days.
I overload every fiber of my being with the history of ancient Egypt. I cry over the fact that I can’t have a khopesh. I get all warm and fuzzy over the fact that Ancient Egypt had female pharaohs. Well, powerful women in general. I cry over the fact that they had found ways to build wondrous things like the pyramids and obelisks. Or how they discovered they could make papyrus from a plant. Or how they created one of the first ways to communicate through a written language. Or how one pharaoh created the first newspaper by carving hieroglyphics onto slabs of stone shaped like dung beetles. Than passing them out to people. Or how the pharaohs openly wrote love letters talking about how beautiful their queens were and they have been preserved so we can read them today. Or how one guy managed to change the thinking and religion OF HIS ENTIRE KINGDOM within the time of his reign.
And don’t even get me started on Ramses the Great.
Than I get upset because I just learned more about ancient Egypt in the past 12 hours than I did in any class I have ever attended.
I got even more upset cause I suddenly felt this great desire to BE there. I wanted to stand on the banks of the Nile all those thousands of years ago and see these buildings and people. I didn’t just want to hear about or read about it, I wanted to LIVE it.
And that makes me mad because every single bit of all the history in the world is so fascinating and wonderful and dear lord I wish I had enough time to learn about it all.
Man, I am such a dork.
Why can’t I just be a time traveler?
And why the hell does BBC always have the best documentaries!? Seriously.