World Mythology, Monday, Period 3

[atreideslioness]

The moment the students were seated, Ghanima launched into her lecture. 

"Given that we're in the midst of winter," she began, "We'll start with the myths of a land known for its winter.  Today, we journey to Northern Europe, to take on Norse mythology."
( Ragnarök. It's the End of the World As We Know It. )

"According to Völuspá, it will be an axe age, a sword age, shields are cleft asunder, a storm age, a wolf age, before which the world plunges headlong'," she recited, eyes closed as she then repeated the phrase in Norse.  "Yggdrasil, the World Tree, will groan and shudder, shaking from root to limb, and nothing will then be unafraid on earth or in the heavens or in Hel. "  Ghani smiled softly, hopping up to sit on her desk.  "Cheery, isn't it?  Now, let's talk about the end of the world."


[OCD UP!  Enjoy!]

 

Library, Monday

[intotheout]

Tip was on a poetry kick today. She had been since Friday, and her conversation with Kanan about swordplay as singing. She spent most of the morning drowning in old dead white guys talking about nature and sex, which -- gross, but sometime around lunch she dug into a cache of works from the Harlem Renaissance and things started getting interesting. She'd heard of Langston Hughes, of course, but not Countee Cullins or Arna Bontemps. She was a little disappointed to find out that those two were both men, but not so much she couldn't dig into their works anyway.

"Listen to this, Bill. 'Yet would we die as some have done, beating a way for the rising sun.' I just -- damn."

Bill did excited loops, then zipped into the stacks. Tip frowned when he didn't come zipping back right away, then went to follow, only to find him poking excitedly at a thick hardcover volume.

"'The Collected Works of' -- Aud -- Audreh? 'Audre Lourde'. Okay." She flipped it open and read a few pages, then looked the author up on her phone.

"'When I dare to be powerful, to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid.'"

If anyone needed Tip today, she was sitting in the poetry section, back against the end of one of the stacks, her nose buried in a book. Bill perched on her shoulder, and soon enough, she was reading poems out loud, letting the sound of them roll off her tongue and fill the peaceful air.

Yeah. Okay. She kind of thought she might "get" poetry now.

[open!]

Cooking for the Disinterested, Monday

[stickitupmyjinx]

There was a pile of instant ramen packets waiting at the front of the class. It was possibly taken straight from the teacher's kitchen. But, look, you picked this class for a reason, kids. Learn to live with it.

"Sometimes you're broke on top of being lazy," Deadpool said. "Which happens because life blows and shit happens. But these suckers you can get for ten cents each and if the salt doesn't kill you, you're golden."

"But they're not really nutritionally sound unless you run on salt and carbs. Some of us do. So you're going to have to spend some more money on other stuff to go in it! Stuff like... an egg! Or maybe some vegetables if you feel really fancy!"

Deadpool shrugged like it made no difference to him. "So, we got those things. And you get to make ramen something that won't give you rickets."

"Go to work," Vanessa said. "Try to make something that makes sense as a dish. Or not, who really cares, so long as you get fed."