At times I suffer from the strangest sense of detachment from myself and the world about me; I seem to watch it all from the outside, from somewhere inconceivably remote, out of time, out of space, out of the stress and tragedy of it all.
H. G. Wells, The War of the Worlds
It rained for just the briefest time this morning – perhaps no more than five minutes – and the rain had come after I’d finished some research. I had my hot chocolate beside the computer and was reading the blog of a mean-spirited man who hides behind making fun of others, especially women, particularly older women. Why should he care whether the fashion is to wear big floppy hats? Or go to yoga class? Or be interested in art – whether a superficial interest or a deep love? It seems to me he has a dislike against a certain type of person, woman.
He has a blogroll and I was interested in learning what he found interesting: did he look to humor? did he look to history? I found a link that appeared to be for a woman’s blog, a woman based in San Miguel. When I clicked the link, I was surprised to be taken to Living Ethnography, which proved a treasure of information and links to ideas and concepts about not only ethnography, but also reading (do we read differently using electronic readers or paper? does the medium impact our retention?), censorship, walking and writing, and so many other topics. One of her links was to the following PBS video, which ties into my northern lights/aurora borealis/longing for my cute parka with the faux-fur trimmed hood mood of late.