So everything finally snapped. And I'm angry. Really really angry. And I like it.

Being angry is so much better than being sad and desperate and lost. It has energy and passion. It makes me move forward. At least it doesn't feel like I've fallen in a hole. Yesterday it was just denial (stage 1 of grief, right on time...there was a lot of bargaining already...jumped ahead with stage 3, I guess). Too much to do, too much to grieve. There comes a point where there is just only so much one person can grieve for and at some point you go the completely opposite direction and are just happy because you've run out of room for sadness. Today I'm just angry (stage 2). Angry that people have to die and hurt and that I can't figure out what's wrong with my hip and have gotten nowhere.

So I'm going running. Haven't been allowed to for the better part of a year. Don't stop me.



--
I want to be good at poetry or writing songs or art or something to get this all out better. All I do is write bad emo stuff.



Just had to put this somewhere.

Six hours, an entire bag of Chex Mix, a hamster named Fluffernutter, and only 4 hours of sleep later, my last anatomy class exam is over. Time to pull out the big guns for the final...haha on me...Never again will I attempt science.

Tis the season for the groove type thing

Tis the season for freaking out, and I feel like I should be...but I'm not. This week should be super stressful, and maybe I'm not working hard enough, but so far it's been pretty decent. (I should probably get to that 15 page paper soon...) It's strange, or maybe not so strange, but I tend to find my zen place when I have a lot to do. Perhaps it's more of a groove-type thing.

I feel pretty snobby sitting here at work, listening to a Mendelssohn string quartet, reading critiques of Samuel Beckett, sipping coffee. (The picture is definitely brought a bit back to earth by the fact that it's cafeteria coffee mixed with chocolate in a plastic mug, and I'm sitting in a cubicle making minimum wage, and the Beckett critique is for a class I have a final in on Friday.) The thing about Beckett is that it makes me feel kind of bummed about life. He's such a downer...all this "you're born, you live a meaningless life, you die" stuff. College has a tendency to be depressing when you actually think about things.

In other news, I had decided to go to India for study abroad, buuuuuut not so sure about that now, what with all hell on the loose. I'd still really like to go to Scandinavia. Doubtful that I can convince my advisor that the whitest place on the planet is the place for me to do research for my senior honors thesis, though. I just don't feel drawn to somewhere where I might get blown up or shot or taken hostage or die of malaria. I appreciate that things suck a lot and need help, really I do. But I don't know how my dying to see that is going to help anything. I'm also coming to see a lot about how "the academy" works. To get credibility, to get a teaching job (of which there are few in the anthro field), to get published, and to get known, one has to go to the Third World to do research. My interests have always lied more (is that proper grammar?) in the realm of studying the oppressor or something like that. I have mixed feelings about being the world's savior. We definitely need to make reparations for effing it over in the first place, but at the same time, we meddle too much in other people's business.

Also I really hate small talk. A lot. Don't ask me how I am if you don't actually care how I am. And I will do the same.

"Hi, how are you?"
"Good. How are you?"
"Good."

If you actually tell how you are, people go glassy eyed, because they didn't actually want to know. A simple hello will suffice. The worst thing is when both people say "How are you?" and "Good" at the exact same time. And I have it on good authority that Europeans think our fakeness in greetings is dumb. Except we do it in French class too, so I don't even know.

Soooo I need to get back to my work...

How Ursula got her groove back

General rule of my life: When it rains, it pours.

But the good news about that is that this time it's pouring happiness. I feel like me again! Yesterday I socialized with more skeletons (in the biomechanics lab) than people throughout the day (until nighttime), but I got my groove back. I probably should actually be more stressed than I am, but I'm feeling under control. (I have 4 meetings in a row tonight, but it's ok!) I also love Southwestern again and am satisfied to be here. I've also finally learned how to be ok not being in a relationship and honestly-- get this-- don't want to be in one. That's not to say I am opposed to dating, I just really can't do serious right now. And it's ok!!!!

Also, the career plan du jour is Teach for America for 2 years post-SU to get some money and to get the teaching bug out of my system. Then UT law, which I hear is actually a lot more fun than I thought. Then: world domination. By which I mean running a non-profit or NGO or working for da government. Or the trusty backup plan of writing things.


"Happiness is as a butterfly which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp, but which if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you."
-Nathaniel Hawthorne

I really enjoy that it took me this long to realize that the reason I'm so sluggish and deranged is that I'm not actually allowed to work out.

Existential crisis part deux

Actually, it isn't really very existential, but someone PLEASE remind me why I thought taking Anatomy was ok? Why? I mean, I have reasons, but they obviously aren't good enough ones. Why didn't I take Environmental Science like I knew I should? Today they are hearing a talk from a beekeeper for their lab. While I hear a 45 min lecture on muscle articulation and learn the entire musculature for the elbow, wrist, and hands. HAAA. This class is killing my beautiful GPA and making me feel stupid. And at this point there is nothing I can do about it. I did try to do my research last year, but I got such sketchy answers from people on the hardness of anatomy...lots of "ooh..eeee" and even "that's what made me decide to be a kines major" and now it's "holy Jesus why would you take that?" Where were those naysayers when I was asking last year????? I've made the dumbest scheduling decisions this year, and I can't do anything about it now except forge on for 3 more months and hope I don't deeply regret my stupidity come transcript time. It is entirely possible to get through this school without actually taking anything all that hard while still learning things; in other words to leave with a nice inflated GPA and a decent bank of knowledge, but apparently I derive some perverted pleasure out of taking needlessly difficult classes. Microeconomics is a case in point. I honestly can't say I remember very much or that I'm very glad in retrospect that I took that class. It was the downfall of my 4.0 with one little minus, and I don't even think I got much out of it. Except maybe I kind of know something about how houses made the economy suck.

Also, I am ridiculously sleepy but not tired. My body is antsy mcantspants, but I can barely keep my eyes open. I was literally beating my face in class to keep my eyes from crossing. I even went to bed before midnight last night! (Thought I did get awakened to open the door for someone and was very confused by the fact that I'd been asleep...I can't really explain it. I also had a lot of very vivid dreams about naming body parts. Yeahhh.) I do not want to become addicted to caffeine!!!

Vices:
Chai
Dark Chocolate
Panicking
List making

Time to go stare at my inspirational rodent screen saver.

Ok this is getting kind of obsessive, but when I'm stressed, I organize things, even my brain. Soo, fueled by liberal-arts inspired critical thinking skills, here is an organized version of my existential crisis.

About every 3 years I have one of these crises, and every time it rearticulates the same ideas in a more analytical context. Basically, it grows up with me and my vocabulary. It also grows inversely to my knowing who I am. I know myself very well. It's more a matter of what to do and how to think.

There is nothing I can do about some of it. I am impatient to be somewhere, actually doing something, having a "real" life, not stuck here putting in the grunt work. Time, however, can't be changed, no matter how hard I try. The rest of my problem is a matter of binaries (thank you, Levi-Strauss): useful vs. enjoyable, fun/less "achievement vs. work/more "achievement," exploration vs. domesticity, idealist vs. realist, put on the happy pants vs. give myself a break. I don't know how to just accept that a lot of things are BS (i.e. the college lifestyle), but that's ok. Now that I write this down I feel a little less abnormal, because I sound like half the people in the universe who have taken a semester off, dropped out of school, joined a convent, etc.

Action plan:
-Write. Anything, everything, all the time, whenever. Please God, help me find my creativity again.
-Humor. My constant fallback companion, the monologue in my head. Self deprecation puts everything in perspective.
-Continue my personal mantra of: think good things, say good things, do good things
-Accept that I will probably never reconcile the desire to achieve the most with a need for fun, so do very best but don't freak out over "failure"
-Forgive myself.

I move closer to the person I want to be through these crises. I think it's ok to have this period of time in which I'm just not entirely ok, because I'll come out of it even more ok than before. I already feel like I've reached a new place. Change is just hard. The only thing I possibly can do is move forward. I didn't live today like I meant to, but I can leave tonight like I want to. Every personal leap needs somewhere to leap from.

As human beings, our greatness lies not so much in being able to remake the world... as in being able to remake ourselves.
-Mahatma Gandhi

Immediate personal response to last post:

I don't get myself. I can't even just feel some real emotions without explaining them away as some stupid, unimportant, self-wallowing thing. Why do I make fun of myself for thinking deep things? It's one of those contradictions...don't take life too seriously but life is deep. Blah whatever.

Psychobabble

The last month has been like a big, charcoal gray cloud looming just a bit over my head, occasionally punctuated by a few timid rays of sunshine. A lot of the feelings I have now are almost sickeningly familiar and are almost perversely enjoyable, that old sense of queasily contented self-containment, in particular. I always alarm myself at how well I hold up to things, probably mostly due to my terror of deep sadness. It's just managed to manifest as a general hazy gloom and negativity that waits to pounce whenever I let my guard down. I used to love my alone time, revel in it...but now it just makes me feel strange.

I wonder if some of this feeling is me grappling with this strange adulthood transition. I am no longer a part of my family pod; I am a little seed that has blown away to strike out all by myself, unsure where I'll land. I am such a very small part of this huge world. I used to be so naively excited about taking on the world, but now I'm overwhelmed, and I don't want to be alone. I am not a loner, but I feel like I'm almost forced to be a lot of the time because I just can never take the easy way around anything.

I'm not sure where my sense of never-aloneness went. I always had a sense that God/the universe/whatever had its arms wrapped around me, always watching, always helping, but I keep losing that feeling. I feel almost not a part of myself, even, like I detach from my body sometimes. I wish I could say it was highly effective meditation, but it's like I'm outside of my own self, marveling at this whole swirling life that belongs to this thing called Ursula, a word that I automatically respond to and somehow sums up this animated form. Maybe I'm really a prophetess on some higher plane of consciousness. That would explain things.

I can't afford to lose myself right now. What happened to the indestructible me?

I don't like being this weird emo kid.

Just when I fall apart, and especially when I start to hit bottom, God shows up through coincidences and reminds me of how magical life is.

Another year at SU. I moved in early on the 14th to my temporary on-campus apartment. It's big and nice but lonely and kind of smells like water damage. I have no idea if I'm supposed to have a roommate right now...I didn't get to live with who I wanted to, so it's pretty lonely. Yesterday I mostly settled in, helped move freshmen into their dorms, and watched Olympics in my friends' apartment. People bring the weirdest things to college...swords, a couch the size of the room, platters with their grandma's face all over it. It was pretty cute/a bit heart wrenching to see the freshmen and their parents so frazzled by the going away process. Three hours of hauling boxes to the 3rd floor had me a bit frazzled too...

Today was my first cross country practice. Glenn thinks I'll be able to race by mid-season, which I am kind of doubtful of, but he's the expert. I get to run a little bit, bike some, and do crazy core work. He made me feel a lot better about the cortisone shot, though. Apparently I could be a fluke case where a pain gate in my spine has stayed open even after my injury healed, so it keeps triggering unnecessarily, which the shot could cure. If the initial shot doesn't work, however, I'll have to try one in my spine. :( I spent the rest of the morning helping with first year check in. Mostly I told people not to skip the language placement table and to sort themselves by last name. For hours. But I am one of those people who can't stop trying to be helpful and just go eat my darn lunch. Actually I think I really wanted to see all of the first years, not going to lie...When I finally went to lunch, there was NOWHERE to sit, so I sat by myself on the edge of a table. Who comes to sit next to me but Pres Schrum himself. We had a lovely chat about majors, SU history, and most importantly, HUMILITY! And now I"m working.

When life gets too stressful, there is always wikipedia to lift your spirits. Today it told me I was "new age." Minus the lack of responsibility and antisocial tendencies part. (Which would describe a large handful or two of people I know...love them dearly but it's the truth.)

Also there are double stuffed Oreos, baklava, and chocolate Easter candy...

Triumphant return to the blogosphere

I've gone a little wild with the whole not having to do anything thing, having one arm and all, and totally neglected my bloggage. My surgery went really well last Thursday (very early) morning. I wasn't particularly nervous beforehand, but in retrospect I probably was, what with all the joke cracking I did. When I get the pictures off my mom's Iphone I'll share them...I look really dumb in a too-big shower cap and purple gown, just fyi. My super gay southern accent nurse was the first to come in and hook up my IV. When I joked about the "tropical view" I had on the curtains in front of me, he went on and on about all the cruises he'd gone on. The IV, my biggest fear, went a lot more smoothly than expected. Then the nurses decided to make me take a pregnancy test, even though I promised them I'd have to name the child Jesus due to immaculate conception if I was pregnant. I did have to pee, though, so whatever.

Finally, after 4 or 5 nurses fussed about things for a long time, the rather shy anesthesiologist came and gave me a "margarita." Then he started poking me with things that he sort of didn't really explain were going to happen. He stuck a needle in my neck and said that when my arm started flailing to just let it move. I think that's when I started crying and telling him he was hurting me, to which he kept apologizing. My mom told me later that they called my parents back in, and I kept saying, "I don't want to be a bad patient!" and crying more. When my mom asked me what I was thinking about, I said, "Elephants and rhinos." Which is probably the weirdest stoned person answer ever. Next thing I know the mask came at my face.

When I woke up, I was sure they were killing me. I thought they were still operating and the surgery had gone horribly wrong. But I couldn't really see, and no one was paying attention to me. I started raising my right arm a little bit and gasping, "Help!" A nurse finally came over but would not answer any of my demands as to what they had done to me. There was a giant lump on my shoulder, and I was very displeased. My shoulder was really painful, but I couldn't feel my arm. The nurses said something about morphine, which I protested and talked about opium dens. Eventually they maxed out the drugs on me and gave me a giant, painful shot in my leg that is still bruised. My parents eventually came in, and I got to drink the world's best Sprite. Mildred the Grumpster wheeled me out in a wheelchair, which was a pretty crazy feeling.

Turns out the surgery was the best case scenario. They cut off part of my labrum and cleaned out really bad bursitis. My doctor gave me the pictures of my "angry shoulder," which are pretty gnarly. I had to start moving it that day, and I can move it a little more daily. When I got home that day, though, my arm was still seriously numb. My mom and I were sleeping in my bed when I got some sensation back in my fingers, but as I tried to show her, I socked her in the stomach since I couldn't control the rest of my arm. Oops...

Taking the bandage off was extremely painful, taking off a lot of my skin with it. Showering was also an athletic endeavor and still sort of proves to be. I've been taking it really easy but moving my shoulder a lot. I can do some pretty normal things at this point. I haven't taken Vicodin in 3 days. Friday afternoon I have my follow up and find out what I can do. So hooray.


I think I might have talked about this before, but every Sunday morning I partake in my ritual of reading the wedding announcements over breakfast, or as I call them, "my brides." After seeing 27 Dresses (twice actually), I began to think that I was apt to become the main character, obsessed with weddings and wanting to attend zillions of them. Then today I found myself reading the obituaries, devouring them really, and realized that it probably isn't really the wedding part that I'm so drawn to. It's the story of each person. I don't care who designed the dress or where the reception was. I skim immediately down to the bottom, where it says the bride and groom's high schools, colleges, jobs, where they're going to live. I like to imagine my future life and to read about every one else's. The obituary thing is still a bit creepy though.

I'm also really excited because my high school bff passed on to me the adorably terrifying "sock-eyed mule" I made for her in a feverish stupor after a junior year physics class joke. I miss her so much! And I'm really glad we have this, our traveling sock pal.

A general rule of life is that you always run into the exact person you would really rather avoid. Or, in my case, the exact 4 people you'd rather not see. Several times a day, in different places, separately. Queen of Awkwardsville, at your service.

Procrastination has spawned profundity for me tonight. Though my paper is not due until Friday, I still meant to write it tonight. Instead I slipped into the most inspired mood (of non-paper writing). At first I attempted to listen to Vedic chanting to channel my inspiration toward academia, but that just turned into musing on my life goals...which led to Joni Mitchell's voice summing up my soul...which led to the most profound sense of peace. I can look at Facebook pictures right now and want to cry as an overwhelming sense of the beauty of every person takes over. It's about the corniest thing I could possibly come up with, but it's also a really nice feeling.

Yesterday my friend told me that I have a way of "describing things in a way that makes them interesting even if they're not." That's one of the best compliments ever to me. That's what I want to do- write normal (or not) things in interesting ways. One step closer to being Dave Barry yesss...

Campus Energy Challenge has been such a huge success. Who would have thought that boys and even frat boys would do the best job at energy conservation?? And also that 1/4 of the school would come out to a Wednesday night party for the environment?

Also, to be brutally honest, I wish men had the equivalent of menstruation. Like monthly "down under" aches or something. Then possibly there would be a greater understanding between the sexes.

Also also...I am very glad to have French tv in my room. It gives me a so much better than usual excuse to not do hw.

Jobs are annoying to find.

I'm having such a super awkward day. Mostly I'm doing things like missing the door handle and tripping on myself, but I also forgot something for extra credit that I very much did, dealt poorly with clueless group members, and had a really odd confrontation with a weekend potential mistake. Is karma kicking me in the face for the epic past few days? Hey karma, could you just get it out now and maybe stop at 7:59 pm? That would be great, thanks.

I really love music people jokes. They never make sense to anyone but other music major types, but that is what makes them all the more humorous. My voice teacher often sits at the piano plinking out notes and chuckling to herself along the lines of, "Oh silly me, that was a raised triangular minor octivated fifth ho ho ho..." while I stand there saying, "Haha..." but thinking, "Good thing I got as far as it being a C#." Apparently I am out of the loop in the musical humor department. But I did have my own personal funny music-related moment in my head whilst working on my research paper for voice. (Uhh yeah, voice lessons research paper...) I was perusing Mozart's collection on Rhapsody.com so i could listen to his style, and I had this thought that it was so strange that Mozart was accessible while the Beatles weren't due to copyright issues. And then I realized that Mozart is quite dead and even more unaware of the Internet and probably copyrights.

I'm starting Spanish next year for practical purposes, but I'm planning on studying in Sweden for other practical purposes. So in a few years I should possess skills in French, Spanish, and Swedish but dubious mastery of any of them. Should I be focusing better on that?

Well, I did it. I declared my major today. Marching with all my mustered dignity into the registrar's office (before I could realize what I was doing), I filled out the little card and handed it in. The lady took it from me, smiled, and said to have a nice day. And that was it. For some reason I expected balloons and confetti to fall out of the ceiling or the heavens to rumble and the earth to crack open. But I just handed in my card and walked away. And now I'm an Anthro major...

Also, while playing water polo today, I went to attack my friend to get the ball away and instead managed to shove my fingers up his nose.

Greek musings

Just 6 months ago, I could not even have fathomed that I might be in a sorority, much less that I will be living on a Greek hall next year. I was actually asked to live (with my ADPi suite) with the TriDelts and Zetas and skip regular registration. Yet I feel completely true to myself in all of this. I feel more comfortable in my own skin than ever actually. Life is sooo weird.

Vair vair busy week, no time for post. So 12 years of putting my body through intense training has finally entirely backfired. My rheumatologist of all people called to tell me that my 3rd MRI showed a SLAP tear in my shoulder. Cool thing it only took 7 years and a hip injury to find that in my shoulder. So now I'm down to water aerobics and biking until I get shoulder surgery this summer. No tri season for me...But, as with all things, it's a blessing in disguise. My bod is forcing me to have the break I always dreamt of all these years. I am learning what this whole resting and having fun thing is...strange, new territory...My other hope is that I will emerge out of all this with such a strong base and thereby avoid further injury and be even more powerful than before.

A journalist for the Austin-American Statesman spoke in my Media & Politics class today, and her presentation re-inspired me towards journalism. Just in time, too, as that class has been depressing the pants off of me in terms of the media. She showed some really cool aspects of print journalism, though, including the new blogging side of things. She also gets to travel around and investigate things, which is very cool to me. I wish print journalism wasn't considered such a dying art. I kind of want to just write for Outdoors magazine or something, though, and talk about how awesome riding in a canoe is.

This week was kind of like what I imagine my own personal school-like hell might be. Today alone I had a microeconomics test, voice performance, 2 meetings, a 9 page psychology paper to finish (5 weeks of work culminated), and a test to study for. Tomorrow at 12:00, I will feel so freeee.

Spring Break 08 / my pathetic life

What a day. Because I have to get up for ANOTHER doctor's appointment tomorrow, I am going to be so lazy as to merely copy and paste an AIM transcript of today.

Katie: what happened?
Me: i spent 11:00-4:00 at doctors
Me: i had to wear a stupid paper dress
Me: and answer a million questions and be poked
Me: then we had to drive all over the world to find a blood sucking place on our insurance
Katie: that sounds awful!
Me: the usual place looked like the entire building had evacuated..the sign on the door said they'd be back in 30 mins and this stupid alarm beeped literally every 3 seconds so we left
Me: then we found a good place, right back where we started
Me: but i hate getting my blood drawn
Me: at least i got to go to pei wei with my mom and gma
Me: and my 68 year old gma said one of hte first politically reasonable things i've ever heard her say
Katie: ya pei wei!
Me: my grandpa is the most psycho conservative and he has brainwashed my gma who is already kind of a nut, but she came up in her own mind with the idea that she'll have to support obama since she has experienced racism (when she dated a black man) and sexism and mccain means status quo
Katie: LOL
Me: then she went off on some lunatic tirade about blue laws and jesus coming and i lost my rosy glow of admiration

My mom also thinks that Mr. Smuggy McDrugSalesrepPants in the elevator at the hospital was checking me out. He had very large biceps, that's all I saw, mostly because I was blinded by his giant ego. "Oh don't worry about the door closing on me...I'm skinny *snicker snicker*" Oh watch me swoon and die...not. Then I heard blah blah blah "I have the best job in the world." I think I threw up a little bit in my throat.

At home I was so tired from the medical extravaganza that I lay in bed with my snoring dog under the covers and read an entire issue of Cosmo. I hate Cosmo for everything that it is. But I can't stop reading it. I feel so knowledgeable about men's body language and power purses now. Cool thing I will NEVER put it to use. Finally I extracted myself from the dog bed-- she was literally under my covers-- and went to spin class. I tried really hard to reach endorphin euphoria but then my hip starting stabbing me and I was basically filled with a mild rage. We were split into "teams" for one drill ("I Will Survive" blaring in the background, just to set the scene) and I was in the 25 and under category. The poor girl next to me, whom I had been really competitively trying to out-pedal (as pathetic as that makes me...I am fully aware of that fact) because I thought she was younger than me turned out to be not really a girl but in the 26-35 bracket...which I found out when she turned around and gave me the most terrifyingly hopeful grin that I was in her age group when annoying spin class lady was splitting us up. And every time I politely said, "No, I'm not 26," she got even more desperately smiley. I think she wanted to be friends. Too bad I was in a rage.

At home I finally got to watch American Idol, my one and only true tv love, then Miss Guided, 2 documentaries (Liberian democracy and women in science), and Letterman. My tv allotment for the semester rolled into 1 night. And yet more career-related existential angst.

This is my life. Wahoo spring break.

I got the blog job!! For a $175 stipend, I will write an entry every other week as an SU Journalist. Talk about an awesome supplementary/resume building gig.

A month or so ago my roommate gave me this little chocolate man in a box that says "ideal date" wearing heart boxers and possessing large biceps...and this morning he fell off the shelf and broke his pelvis. This felt like a symbolic moment to me. I can't even keep a chocolate man. I mourn the loss of my paraplegic sugar daddy.

Rambley McRambles strikes again

Something I'd really like to figure out is why I find it so hard to be affectionate. My mom tells me that when I was a baby I didn't mind being held, but when I was done I was done and would let the holder know that. Affection was ok in small doses. I'm still that way...I find it hard to verbalize my feelings for people and especially to touch them. I may feel so intensely about a person but find it incredibly hard to say that. I have a hard time saying "I love you" to anyone, even my family whom I love more than anything in the world. I have a hard time letting someone give that first kiss. Hugs are the one exception to my tendencies. It's not that I don't want to be touched, so I don't understand why I am so afraid or hesitant or nervous about it. The exception as far as what I say is when I write it...I can write anything to someone as long as I don't have to watch them read it. Something about immediate reactions freaks me out. Also, when people are upset, I know I should hug them and say comforting things, but I always just stand there and wish I wouldn't have such a hard time reaching out to them. On the complete flip side, once in a relationship I am very affectionate and have no problem at all being that way. Why can I do that but not say "I love you" to my mom and hug a grieving person?

I'm applying for a job at school as a blogger. How suhweeeet is that??

Also, I apparently make an attractive tree.

And I think I want to study in Brazil!

Buff lions

In light of my earlier post, merely 2 hours later, further commentary practically fell in my lap. And by fell in my lap I mean was spoken to me across a table at lunch. Whilst crunching on dehydrated broccoli and what I think was chickpeas with Gisele and Javier, good ole Jav began to make fun of a very very skinny soccer recruit kid. Before I could even scold him for proliferating gender stereotypes, he said, "Look at the lion and lioness. Who gets the lioness? The strong lion. Do you want a lion who doesn't try to look good for you? Huh huh??" I said of course I want an attractive and buff lion but that I wish I didn't feel that way. He just gave me the "haha I win the debate" look. I tried to explain the suckiness of gender roles...but he's right...I have an unfortunate obsession with the most attractive of lions.



Totally new subject...I finally turned in my scholarship app today. Finally. What was striking, though, was the way that I actually sounded like I knew what I wanted to do with my life on paper. In the "what do you want to be when you grow up, little girl" section of the app, I wrote, "Double major in Communications and Anthropology, minor in Psychology. I plan on attending graduate or law school and would like to have a career in journalism or law with an emphasis on social justice awareness and advocacy." Good thing my writing hand seems to know my desires better than I do.

Feminist Manifesto Part 9000

I make no bones about my school being the bomb diggity, but I have a big problem with the extortionist nature of facilities and services. I just paid $5 to fax my resume! They are soooo lucky that I was desperate. Where does all our money go? All $33,000/year. Honestly, $8/gross meal, $4 for laundry, none can be spared to fix the recycling system. I have half a mind to request to see where all the money goes. The pres probably wouldn't even be surprised...Last time I had a meeting with him, he said, "Good to see you....again..." But he did compliment my rainboots.

In social problems today we watched a documentary called "Tough Guise" about the construction of gender behavior, particularly as influenced by the media. As broken record as the subject sounds, somehow this discussion seemed fresh and thought provoking. The images of Rambo/Rocky/John Wayne/GI Joe with 26 inch biceps to scale (as opposed to Mark McGuire's 20 inch biceps) put some things in perspective. There is so much focus on girls' unrealistic body images, but how often do we talk about boys'? Boys are just supposed to be tough, unemotional, in charge, brawny. Or what? Or they're called wimps, pussies, girls. By other boys worried about being a wimpy, pussy girl. What sucks is that women reinforce this stereotype by fawning over roided-up macho men, as if they are the ideal. I even have to shamefully admit to myself sometimes how attractive a macho man can be. But there always seems to be a hint of danger, an edge about men who assume this persona. They're tough and brawny and radiate violence. Even if they don't actually hit anybody, the point is that they seem as if they could. Which means they're "a man." In evolution terms, it makes sense. Like so many other things, though, evolution and modern society are at odds.

My prof brought up an interesting idea too, about how modern women hesitate so much to label themselves feminists. In essence, feminism means equality and appreciation of femininity. The stigma now, though, is of seeming like a wild, hairy radical. I, the crazy enviro, very much hesitate to call myself a feminist even though I very clearly am. I guess I'm afraid that macho macho men will avoid me if I do? That's pathetic. In a more stereotypical vain, why do women find it so necessary to put on a sexual display for men? Super scandalous outfits, kissing girls in public, dancing and prancing around with pouting lips. Sort of seems like a baboon flashing its big red butt around so that a mate will be ever so attracted. Again, I even feel this draw, this desire to be seen as sexy. But where is the line between sexy mate-snagging and slutty exploitation?

I'd really like to do an interview study of gender views someday. I'm super curious about my friends' own gender identities and peeling back peoples' layers of gender based behavior.

Weekly reality check time!

Dear Self,

Please stop wasting your time. Life is way too short to wait for someone who obviously isn't treating you right.

Love,
Your brain and probably a lot of your friends

Some advice from India.Arie:

Because you never know where life is gonna take you
and you can't change where you've been.
But today, I have the opportunity to choose.

I was always too concerned about what everybody would think.
But I can't live for everybody, I gotta live my life for me.(Yeah)
I pitched a fork in the road of my life and ain't nothing gonna happen unless I decide.

[Chorus:]
(And I choose) to be the best that I can be.
(I choose) to be authentic in everything I do.
My past don't dictate who I am. I choose. (Yeah)

From this day forward I'm going to be exactly who I am.
I don't need to change the way that I live just to get a man. (NO!)
I even had a talk with my mama and I told her the day I'm grown,
"from this day forward, every decision I make will be my own." And hey!

Because you never know where life is gonna take you and you can't change where you've been.
But today, I have the opportunity to choose. (Hey ey)
I used to have guilt about why things happen they way they did cuz life is gone do what it do.
And everyday, I have the opportunity to choose.

Barack the Vote

I should soooo be doing homework right now, but my horoscope said that I should blog the "weird, cool ideas" in my head. So I must obey. I can always rastle up a few weird, cool ideas, especially since I've been a terrible person and have been too lazy to blog for a long time. Look at all those good stories I might forget!!!!

The first thing I woke up thinking about today was my theory that men bounce back faster than women in relationships. I swear it's got to be statistical. Screw the law of odds or whatever the crap it is that says that odds even out over time. (Math is not my strength. Or logic apparently.) Every guy I've ever dated found another girl significantly faster than I found another guy post-breakup. Maybe other people haven't had the same experience, but it always seems to happen to me and seems to have happened to a lot of other people that I know. Are girls just too picky? Or do guys just bounce back quicker in general?

Last night I was convinced to go to the Obama rally in Austin. Now, mind you, I am still on the fence about the primary. But I decided that being a political nerd and the historical nature of going to a political rally at this age were reasons enough to go, despite any misgivings. I think the effect of 5 girls in ADPi sweatshirts with a baby in tow would make quite a spectacle in bucking of stereotypes too, so all the more reason. We decided the line to get in was too long, so we didn't mess with that but did end up in about the 7th or 8th row back from the barricade in the crowd outside the bowl around the stage. After a quick run to Quiznos, we had to push back through the crowd to the rest of our group, suffering the insults of disgruntled Obamarama attendees. My personal favorite: "Are they even old enough to vote??" Whatever, jerk, we were here first. And I probably know more about politics than he does. At 9:00, we finally got some Obama action. The sound system was fantastic and the crowd alarmingly respectful. I was even able to put my parents on the phone and let them hear the whole rally. I will admit that the timbre of his voice is very soothing and nice to listen to. He said some good sort of policy-related things amidst the usual canned kissing babies and one-legged lepers spiels, along with way too many MLKJ, Barbara Jordan, and Kennedy references. But it's a rally...so I guess that's the point. I got pretty into the spirit of things anyway.






Then I went to bed at 12:30 on a Friday night after reading some more Subtle Knife. Yeah college.

Donkey power

Oh, I'm such a politics nerd. At 7:03, when I discovered that my room does not get CNN, I nearly had 5 heart attacks as I grabbed all homework-related possessions in sight, did some forbidden running down the stairs, catapulted over the couch, and hijacked the lounge tv from a foreign exchange student watching Disney channel.

Holla atcha girl, Hillhill. And maybe Obamarama. I don't know. I'll probably go to his rally tomorrow.

How did some stupid 10 year old kid get tickets to the debates and I didn't?

Southwesternorts strikes again

Just had a very thinly veiled attempt by my subconscious to tell me to talk to my adviser again about my career path. In my dream, good ole Ronny Weasley and I took a little trip to another land to visit Hermione at her subpar and unfulfilling job. We couldn't find her at first, but she popped out of a tree in a green robe and threw herself at us with joy. She then chattered on about how she was sick of her job as a tree guard, but what else could she do with her useless degree in Sweets. We all chimed in with how useless our degrees were too. The reason I take this as a hint and not just a Harry Potter-esque gab fest is that I am frequently identified with Hermione, the overworking fireball whose actress counterpart is my identical twin with brown eyes. If she could end up at a subpar, unfulfilling job in a green robe, I could to. I need to avada kadavra that idea.

I have come to several sad-ish realizations.

1. I will probably have to break down and study Comm to get what I want.
2. I will probably have to vote for Obama.

Blue skies for everyone

In driving back from an anthro field assignment coffee shop observation, I was struck with a sudden sense of full-body-mind-soul euphoria. Could have been the chai, could have been the perfect blue sky, or the great mix of songs on my XM radio. But it also just might have been the overwhelming sense of purpose and perfection. I am really really good at anthro. I love watching people, analyzing them, talking to them, making connections. I also really love my school in that it allows me to explore so freely this new dimension of myself and helps me to articulate my strengths through application of them. I even love Georgetown, in all of its small town pomp.

I've been MIA, but I have very good reasons.

That I'll tell you later.

"You're pretty Nala. She's hardcore, and she owns Simba."
- My amazing new roommate



Rush tonight ahhhhh.

I am not normally one to say this but....


FUCK.

Sometimes I'm so consumed by my need to write that I can't even do my homework....

Like now.

The supernatural is really freaking me out right now. I've been having such a challenge with this complicated decision that I turned to the oracle cards my aunt gave me. I was almost alarmed when they said "follow your true heart's desire," "change to a new activity or class," "be bold and take a chance," and "expect a miracle." Then my horoscope told me to listen to family and friends' advice and to sift through a decision carefully. How do these things happen??

One good side benefit of this mini crisis is that I've coined new philosophical phrases to live by in my head, namely:

"You can't keep doing something forever just because you've always done it."

2 days of mammoth proportions

Yesterday was mostly one big nervous spasm.

I managed to get out the door ridiculously close to on time (9:07), and listened to the bluegrass gospel train show on my Sirius radio for the better part of 3 hours. Even managed a pit stop at my favorite gas station/convenience store/trucker bar when I had to pee. Peachy, right? Until I got back to campus and had to turn right back around and drive into Austin. And fight the insane Austin traffic. And navigate one way streets. Why do they make one way streets? Driving, especially in the city, stresses me out enough already, and then they add in confusing streets of doom for the directionally retarded (me). Fortunately Jack and Adam's new location doesn't suck like their old one, so I found it with comparative ease. Jack himself helped Ben pick out his new bike. The experience was disconcerting in a semi-pleasant way when Jack kept asking my professional opinion as a bike store employee. I just agreed with him for the most part. (Umm, yeah, the more carbon the better, right?) Somewhat cool to be asked for a second opinion by an expert. Ha...

Two hours and $1200 later, we discovered we didn't have reverse directions. Good thing for us all of the non-numbered streets run parallel to I35, as far as I can tell. I finally ate a meal when we got back but had to get in my car once again to drive to HEB for provisions, since my friend wouldn't relinquish her parking spot. I tried to finish unpacking after that, but my back was so seized up from the intensity of the day that I was walking around like an old woman. Our hall meeting was a different experience now that I live in a girls' dorm. People are all smiley and clappy and giggley. People are still ridiculous, male or female, however. When I introduced myself, a girl immediately said that we should watch The Little Mermaid. Hardyharhar, how original. Getting in my comfortable bed in my quiet room with the pleasant and wonderful roommate was the highlight of my experience.

Strange dream again, though. I was the first female president, at age 18. Somehow I caused a deluge of rubber torpedoes to smother a room full of models, yet no one suspected me. The secret service wasn't even escorting me or questioning me. I was just walking around with my mom, wondering why no one cared that I was the president. A family was just standing there smiling and I told them, "I've been awfully busy, being president, you know..." and they just gave me a look of indifference.

Today was the first day of class. Social Problems is on the 3rd floor of a very old and creepy building, far far away. My very good friend Robert is in it, though, and it seems really interesting in an I might want to actually do my homework kind of way. Sociology is very quickly capturing my interest. Then a meeting with my violin teacher, who told me not to quit violin because she didn't want to lose me as I was "blossoming."

From there I got my mail-- 2 Time magazines that I didn't know I was subscribed to, a small paycheck, and a letter saying I'd made dean's list. Psychology was in a room far too large for the class size or to hear the professor's uncompassionate and snarky remarks. From there, lunch and a meeting with my adviser. He told me to quit violin and focus on other things. His philosophy was that I shouldn't do if I couldn't live without it. How much I agree with that I'm not sure, but he was rather encouraging with his typical ego-puffing talk. This time he told me I'm one of "maybe 12" amazing writers on campus. Twelve was probably an arbitrary number, but I get his point and sure hope he's right.

Triathlon class followed, and I'm pretty excited about that. The first few weeks will probably be a bit slow and frustrating, but the reward is worth it. After class I popped into the training room to have them look at my hip, thinking it would be just a quick little exam...Little did I know I'd have an appointment for an xray in Austin tomorrow...or that I'd spend all afternoon dealing with insurance.

Orchestra proved even more confusing than my previous two opinions on the violin situation. The good news is that my teacher gave me the wrong grade and that I actually still have a 4.0. The bad news is that that makes my choice have less of a foundation. Her words aided my confusion further...She first said that she quit softball in college in order to play her flute more and that sometimes we have to make those kinds of choices. Then she said that I should learn the Alexander posture method so that I could keep playing, handed me a lady's information, and told me to go to class. Well, thanks for the no help at all.

WHAT DO I FREAKING DO?!??!

My mom's advice: sometimes you have to just yell "shit!" and jump.

On a completely different topic, I'm quite sure my roommate and suitemate know every pop culture reference ever. Every actor, every movie, every book. It's uncanny.

Wish me luck tomorrow...

I don't even go back to school for 2 more days, and I'm already physically homesick...like, worse than August. School is so fun, so exciting, in such a better location, so much to look forward to. But I want to stay here! I'm actually crying right now, as I type this through blurry eyes. It really doesn't help that I'm having my irrational guilt problem. My family keeps saying how much they'll miss me and how weird it will be...and I'm so obsessed with pleasing people and so in love with my family that it makes me feel bad for leaving them. Everyone is having such a hard time right now, I just feel terrible. I'm really bad at grieving. I wasn't even really homesick last semester. I've heard this part is worse though...

And I got some! This face makes me happy:


AP photo

Suck this, Obama.

Brain stuff

I've been having awfully vivid dreams lately...

In the first one I can remember from this week I was 9 months pregnant and more content than I've ever felt in my life-- except for in all of the other pregnancy dreams I've had, of which there are many. I insisted on going to the hospital on the due date rather than when the baby was actually coming and was pretty frustrated. I'm not even sure who the father was. Suppose that dream has a meaning...

The next one was kind of fun. At first I was hesitantly stepping into a ferris wheel...which then turned into a water slide...which turned into a pool and a triathlon. So this new triathlon I invented in my dream was a ferris wheel/water slide/swim combo. And I was racing just this blonde girl. I jumped in the wrong lane and lost a lot of time...but it was, after all, my dream, so I beat her in the end. I never lose in my dreams and always save the day. Sign of an egomaniac or strong confidence?

Funky feelings again...Remind me that this is why I don't watch tv. All of the shows involve twisted minds and tragedy, things I just don't want or need to think about. I need some comedy or at least some New Hampshire primary election news so I can have real things to think about.

I'm emotionally retarded.



The end.

Journalistic Inquiry

A question for all of you veteran journalists: Is the term "make out" an accepted, appropriate journalistic term? I read it on the 2nd page of the Chronicle today. Granted, it appeared in the trashy crap celebrity section with regard to Lindsay Lohan's penchant for a little (lot of) bubbly and fine Italian men. (On couches in dark corners, nothing sketchy...) Somehow making out just doesn't seem like something you see in the hallowed pages of the Houston Chronicle.

After several days of short viewing sessions and today leaving work after only two hours thanks to my feverish mother, I finally finished Almost Famous. Turns out people are right about its cinematic brilliance. Cameron Crowe is now also pretty much my hero. What kind of kid becomes a Rolling Stone writer at 16, then goes on to make some of the best movies of all time? Oh to be him. Journalist turned timeless director. Thank you, Cameron, for your genius, but no thanks for reminding me that I probably should start writing for the Megaphone, i.e. pathetic campus newspaper.