“It’s my most sacred and valuable material possession. I call it ‘the super jacket.’ It started in high school, when I got a jacket, which I actually hated, and I slightly fought with my mom. As time went by, it started to rip, but I wore it every day. I would stitch on different pieces of clothing and it just kept growing. Eventually, the jacket became a physical representation of my soul.
I’m not necessarily Hindu, but the soul in Hindu spirituality sheds different shells as it goes on its journey. In the same way, the jacket changes as I pass through the different phases of my life. That’s why I think clothing should be a symbolic representation of what’s important to the wearer.
I wear my super jacket all the time. I’ve worn it during official presentations, I wear it in my office, and I will wear it at my dissertation defense.”
One of the special patches is this one. It’s made from my mother’s wedding sari. The patch itself is an embryonic blue-color and you can see two spindles pulling apart two components—death and life. Life is the green-colored wavelike turbulence, and death the compartmentalized squares because death often reorganizes what was in life. Here, they are pulled apart but as the individual grows, they come together again. When you die, they reunite.“
We asked, you voted overwhelmingly to send Katniss and friends into the strange old manor house she’s inherited. What adventures await them inside? Let’s find out, shall we? As always, you’ll have 48 hours to vote (in the comments or reblogs, NOT in the tags!), until Noon EDT on Thursday, September 7th.
This week’s installment was crafted by the incomparable @jennagill (who asked that we give a shout out to @papofglencoe for her invaluable assistance.) Hang on folks, here we go…
“C’mon Katniss. We’ll take a look around, assess the needs, and come back tomorrow with a more informed game plan,” Peeta promises.
“Yeah, and maybe we can start on the demo,” Johanna says, rubbing her hands together and no doubt wanting to stick her axe in a wall.
“Who said anything about demo??” I squawk. “Maybe I want to restore this house to its former glory,” I say. It’s all still a little surreal to me. Inheriting this manor with $500,000 to fix it up in six months and the possibility gaining half of the estate if I’m successful sounds like a dream. Of course, if I don’t complete Uncle Haymitch’s task, then it all goes away and Peeta and I will return to the quiet life we had before the reading of the will.
“There’s always an opportunity for demo,” Finnick says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “This house was likely built in the turn of the century. It’s probably going to need foundation repair, new plumbing, bringing the electrical up to code, new roof, and new windows,” Finnick finishes, listing the top tasks off with his hands.
“Do you have a second career as a contractor that we don’t know about?” Peeta jokes.
“Nah, just watched a lot of This Old House,” Finnick says.
Here is a picture of my little math family. We call ourselves the Klein four-group, because whenever we hang out all together we have a habit of breaking into pairs of two and each possible combination has its own neat mentor/mentee or academic peer or deep emotional connection flavor. This picture was taken yesterday, and the occasion was that my best friend in the world became Dr. Best Friend in the World after the world’s most impressive dissertation defense. It has been such a joy to celebrate the awesome accomplishments of these awesome people. We’re all starting new adventures next semester, and there will be some tough times ahead for each of us, but and I am SO GLAD we’re all going to be here together. We’ve got the Klein four-group. We’ll be a-okay.
actually what if instead of reading my anthropology books I would simply make black-out poetry out of them all? the process is just so enthralling and relaxing. will it count as a scholarly pursuit? will I still get my grants? and imagine the presentations that I’ll do! I can make a revolution in anthropology. I see it already: admittance to grad programs in black-out poetry, qualification exams, dissertation defenses, international conferences—black-out poetry! discussions of a new work of a certain professor So-and-so: have you seen their black-out of Maliniwski’s pages?! that was hilarious! and so instructive! the whole page was marred except for the word “Chthulucene.” wait I think it was not Malinowski’s.