dictators ride to and fro upon tigers which they dare not dismount

Above quote by Winston Churchill.

I came to the sudden realization that this amazing Muse song, "Hate This and I'll Love You", totally applies to Ilium - the relationships, in particular, between humans and the reformed daimones, the animae slaves.  Clearly this song is told from the point of view of the latter.  Yet I can also see it applying it to different interpersonal relationships.  Ah, the joys I get of power dynamics... I cannot even begin to describe.  I have definitely silent-screamed the chorus of this song in the elevator going up to the poli sci department.  It's so empassioned. 

Oh I am growing tired
of allowing you to steal
everything I have
you're making me feel

like I was born to service you
but I am growing by the hour

You left us far behind
so we all discard our souls
and blaze through your skies
so unafraid to die

cuz I was born to destroy you
and I am growing by the hour
I'm getting strong in every way

you lead me on, you lead me on...


That over there, by the way, is the painting.  The one that has made my adolescence, that has made my obsession with colonialism, power dynamics, violence.  "Sensations of an Infant Heart" by Walton Ford.  This painting struck the Harper's staff so much that whoever responded to my frenetic email asking if they knew the title and maker of a work that featured a chained monkey choking a parrot immediately knew what I was talking about.  I cannot overstate how much this painting has affected me and how much I love it from the bottom of my soul. 

mean what you say, say what you mean

Professor PJ - everybody's favorite human rights advocate and senile grandfatherly figure (eighty-one years old and still insists he can climb on chairs to reach objects on tall shelves) has just come into the office and started poking around the wire drawers of office supplies under the desk.

"Looking for anything in particular?"  My mouth is unfortunately full of tuna roll sushi. 
"Pardon?"
"What are you looking for?" I say, after swallowing.
"Oh, just those little, you know, those stick-'em-ons."  Drawer after drawer is opened. 
"Stick-'em-ons?"
"Yeah, you know, those little pieces of paper, they're colored, and they're sticky."
"Um... post-its?"
"They're just small pieces of paper that you can stick on things.  It doesn't look like you have any..."
"Yeah, I haven't seen any of... those... recently.  Do you want post-its?"  I've realized by now I have to humor him, do the conversation his way.
He looks up.  "Are they sticky?"
I pull some from the inbox beside the computer.  "Yeah."
"Oh!  That's what I was looking for!" he raises his frail old hands and stretches them to the post-it notes. 
"There's small ones, medium ones, big ones..."
"Small ones?"
I show him the small ones.
"Oh, yes!  The small ones!  Yes!"  He snatches it right out of my hand.  Well, I think, there go the last of the small post-it notes.  "What do you call them?  Post-its?"
"Yeah, that's what the company calls them."
He stands up, nodding and staring at the post-it notes in his hand.  "Post-its, post-its... thank you," as he walks out the door. 

God, I love this department.  Oh yeah, and Professor Cooley smiled very widely at me today.  He recognized me and said hi to me before I saw that he was even there.  This made my walk to Morton Williams to drop off our catering order all the more wonderful.