I will always be telling this story

So I am all calm-like now, after spending an evening watching mindless entertainment like Lost and Project Runway (shut up, haters, I can stop any time I want). I know some people have not enjoyed the addition of all these additional characters on Lost, but allow me to suggest that I would be perfectly fine with replacing Jack with Mister Eko permanently. Permanently, b*tches. He's 10 times more interesting, 100 times more cool, and 1000 times more intense. Also, am I supposed to care if that hobbit is or is not mainlining heroin? I do not even care about the monster or whatever it is, which, I guess, was supposed to be the whole draw of the show originally. Anyway, to sum up: more Mister Eko= good television.

In all my ranting and raving the past few days, I forgot to write about the one thing that really intrigued me this past weekend. Well, okay, there was also the stupefying stomping of the Jacksonville Jaguars in the span of about fifteen minutes on Saturday. I did a good job of annoying the hell out of some of the innocent bystanders, by randomly bursting out with “Yes!” and “No!”s that interrupted conversation in progress.

But, NFL euphoria aside, a few of us went to the De Young on Saturday. I am not sure the others were particularly impressed with the place. I can’t blame them either, since it is rather disjointed in terms of the way exhibits are set up. Also, some of the art is, well, let’s say, challenging. I have to admit now what I did not say out loud on Saturday: I actually lurve the museum. I would not recommend it to everyone, which is why I didn’t loudly advocate it afterwards.

I think the De Young holds a special place for me for a couple of reasons. It was torn down around the time one of my closest friends, W, moved out of the city. Q and I visited it a year later, walking around the perimeter, observing its torsional structure, then just in its skeletal stages. And last year, when I heard it was re-opening, my heart ached for a moment, because I knew there was a chance I might not be here to see it. Being still in San Francisco is a precious thing, though bittersweet, and the De Young in its new glory feels more mine than anything else in San Francisco, as a result, weirdly enough.

I was sold due to two things. The first was the architecture, which befits new construction, and is wonky in all sorts of delightful ways. At one point, I had split from my companions, and stood at the top of a stairwell looking out; a number of things started to present themselves. On one side, two windows were close together. On the other side, the windows were spaced well apart. One beam that served as an awning for the first floor tilted upward, while on the other side, a beam tilted downward. The main piece in the stairwell was a photograph of strontium molecules, with no focal point. It was not comfortable, but it was beautiful. I think this is a sign of old age, perhaps. When I was young, I would have found this simply ugly, and now I find all the things that create dissonance as somewhat endearing.

The second aspect was the inaugural exhibition, a collection of statues and artifacts associated with Hatshepshut. It should be noted that I could give a rat’s behind about archeology. Looking at different stone statues, or pots from 1456, or jewelry commonly worn by Egyptian royalty does little for me. What is cool is the story, and it always strikes me as strange when so many of the items on display are peripheral to the story of the exhibit. And the story of Hatshepshut is something I had never known of, and, as I said to ads & maisnon, is so very Bay Area, in so many ways.

In short, Hatshepsut started her royal days as a Queen to her half-brother, King Tuthmosis II. Say it with me now- ewww. Now, get over it, because apparently, that was how they rolled back in the 1400s. At about the age of 20, when the King died, she assumed power as a Pharaoh. At first, she might have just been ruling as Pharaoh until her nephew, the heir to the throne, came of age. But at some point, she decided she was doing a good job of it herself. So, when the nephew came of age, Hatshepsut shared the throne with him, but with the understanding that she was the senior regent.

It’s all so very gender politics. As pharaoh, there are some statues where Hatshepsut is portrayed in very feminine form, and others where she is wearing a fake beard, and traditionally male garb. And even though she had a peaceful and successful reign, when she died, her nephew eventually ordered the destruction of objects bearing her name. He tried to erase her from the public consciousness in a sense. Views of why this was are conflicting. Some feel this was done to legitimize his role as rightful pharaoh. Others feel this was a conscious attempt to erase the notion that a female could rise to power in this way, so that the precedent would not be set for future upstart women. When I told this theory to one of my friends, she said, "Hmmm... I can't imagine that happening" all sarcastic-like.

Finally, just to wrap up the longest post ever, can I just mention that I am such a lucky person at times? Every time I am at the end of my rope and writing like a self-involved windbag, and just feeling generally annoyed, the blogosphere comes to my rescue. This time it was in the form of a hilarious little package from j. Like her blog isn't enough to cheer up anyone in and of itself.