wouldn't it be entirely ridiculous
if this one guy could be perfect for me

except for the fact
that we dated in high school
and he dumped me.


I don't think that's the case.
I just like to conjecture.

meh

I'm not witty enough to keep this blog up. Also, it has become a place for me to whine about my personal life, and honestly, that is a purpose better served by a journal...not a website.

So basically, I think I'm going to make a new blog and actually have a direction in mind this time, so that the new blog doesn't become Pity Party Blog Numero Dos.

But what to write about?

today's thought

If we were really serious about reducing illegal immigration numbers, perhaps we could stop referring to ourselves as "the best country in the world." Fewer people would give up their homes and families (and sometimes their lives) to move to the United States if we would just admit that it's not that great here, especially for foreigners.

why home sucks.

I just did something incredibly rude without meaning to at ALL. Mom's boyfriend is now really angry at me. Great.

It's so much harder to deal with people who don't love you being angry with you. There is no guarantee that he doesn't hate me. He has no incentive to forgive me for being an ass. He can just be a jack ass to me forever if he wants, since he's not actually my family.

Mom told me that I did what I did because I honestly think my opinion is the only one that matters. I find that really hard to believe, but I can't find any other way around it. I don't think I'm that selfish and stupid, but my actions seem to be telling a different story. She goes, "Why don't you just learn to stop and take a breath before you do things?"

Because by the time I realize I need to take a breath, I'm already in trouble.

This is fucking ridiculous. I'm almost 20 years old. You would think I would be able to interact with people in a manner befitting a young adult instead of like a petulant, poorly-disciplined child.

Needless to say, this has sealed the deal on my decision to stay in Chapel Hill next summer and never live at home again. I would much rather have a great relationship with my family some of the time than a stressful, often shitty one all the time.

just had a thought.

People who deny the existence of global warming are often very religious. These people are willing to give up pleasure in their earthly lives for the promise of a better afterlife, a better future for themselves.

People who are not religious tend to be more liberal, more environmentally conscious. These people are willing to give up material possessions like gas-guzzling cars for the promise of a healthier planet, a better future for everyone else.

There are some very interesting conclusions one could draw from this.
Mine is that religion blows.

YES.

"No matter what economists tell us abut getting the credit industry moving again, papering over debt with more debt will not pollinate our food crops when the last honeybee is dead. I suggest that we put the economists out there in the fields, hand-pollinating crops like they do in China. They seem to know all about the subject, and have placed a monetary value of $12 billion on the pollination accomplished by bees in the US. Can you imagine the fucking arrogance? All bees do is make our fruit and vegetable supply possible. Anyway, if we cannot use the economists for pollinators (odds are they are too damned whacked to do that job), we could also stuff them down the blowhole of the Deepwater Horizon spill. For the first time in history, economists would be visibly useful."

Joe Bageant

http://www.joebageant.com/joe/2010/07/waltzing.html

ahh, the single life.

I love how old flings are now creeping out of the woodwork. And not like, actual ex-boyfriends or anything. Oh no. Older guys who wanted me when I was 16. And now I don't have the excuse of age. But it's okay. It's actually kind of fun.

I am enjoying myself. I understand this casual dating thing now. I can flirt with them now without getting stressed about what it all means.

july is going to be a good month.

I am so happy.

My job gives me immense personal satisfaction. They love me and are constantly surprised at the quality of my work and the quickness with which I get it done. I am always learning. Yesterday, I learned about Esther Duflo, the second woman ever to win the extremely prestigious Clark Medal in Economics, because we're thinking about inviting her to speak in a seminar series this fall and I needed to find her contact information. Two weeks ago, I learned how to use Dreamweaver, and I totally get it. Our web designer is really impressed with how quickly I'm picking it up. Next week, I'm decorating a bulletin board with a world map and push pins to indicate where we have students currently doing fieldwork.

I feel so good about myself. I'm sleeping better and eating fairly healthy and drinking water (but still not exercising...oh well). I get dressed up every day to go to work, and I feel beautiful. I am moving the hell on with my life! And it feels great.

Mom advised me the other day that I need to find Transition Man. That made me giggle. I asked if Transition Man was anything like Rebound Man. She tried to look serious, and said, "yeah, sort of." Apparently, Transition Man is hot and stupid and fun, and once I find him, he can take me out a couple times and then I don't have to call him again.

Sounds like Rebound Man. Sounds good to me. I'm interesting and witty and hot, and I need some fun in my life.

ew.

This blog has become nothing more than me bitching about my love life. Who really wants to read a bitter teenager's journal? No one, that's who.

So let's talk about something else.

I crashed a bicycle last week and now I have enormous Franken-scars forming on my forearm, knee and ankle. They're pretty amazing.

no no no.

Today I thought I was ok.

But every time I smile and tell someone I'm ok, everything floods over me and I can't breathe or speak or see any light. Just darkness every direction, and suffocating pressure on all sides.

And I realize I'm not ok.

Not even close.




All of the music I love seems to have been written to me. Songs I sang along with before, never realizing the weight of the words coming from my lips, suddenly stop my breath. My voice chokes when I sing, pierced by sorrow coming so quickly I can't brace myself against the onslaught. So I don't sing.

I honestly thought it was getting better. I thought I was overdramatizing the situation. I told myself that everyone has their first big heartbreak, almost no one ends up in the long run with their first love, there are so many important lessons to be learned from this, blah blah blah. I tell everyone. I repeat all these things like a mantra, warding off the sadness, but then I pause to think and the floodgates are destroyed. Facts, unfortunately, have failed me.

This is not the type of healing that happens in a matter of weeks. Not for me. I thought a month would be significant. A month has done almost nothing for me. What about three months? Six months? A year? Two? How long will it be before I feel whole again? Like someone I trusted hasn't reached inside me and set fire to everything I held dear?

I'm trying so hard to be rational and positive and understand that you're going to move on, but I'm angry. I'm so angry and hurt. If it takes me a year to get over you, it should take you that long to get over me. That's how it should work. But it doesn't, apparently.

I am just destined to be the one who loves more and gets nothing for it but never-ending pain.

rules.

Here are my new standards:

1. I am a feminist. If you believe men are inherently superior to women, I don't want you in my life.
2. I am staunchly anti-religious. If you are super religious, I'm not interested.
3. I am liberal and I get pissed off and rant about politics. If you don't like that, go away.

I'm just not dealing with it. I get to choose who I involve in my life, both with friendships and romantic relationships. I spent a lot of time compromising and smothering my strongly-held beliefs for the sake of a relationship, and I refuse to do it anymore, since apparently that doesn't work. It's an important lesson. Compromise in a relationship is important, but not as important as knowing who you are, fundamentally, as an individual and protecting that identity. And who I am is an outspoken liberal feminist with a vendetta against all organized religion. You don't like it? Don't bother me.

so strange.

It's been two weeks.

I'm okay, I think. I cried a couple nights ago, but I went a few days before that without crying at all. It doesn't hurt constantly anymore. But it still makes me so sad when I think about it.

I was looking for my can opener earlier and found the picture of us from Gondoliers last year--the one I framed and kept in my dorm room all year. My stomach lurched. It's pretty apparent I still love him. And who's surprised? I honestly thought we were going to get married. I had a vague list floating around in my mind of possible honeymoon locations, the flowers for the wedding, the beverages for the reception (you always have to be careful; we both have alcoholics in the family). I wasn't naive to think it was possible. I know that.

Anyway. Now that the intensity of missing him is starting to fade, I'm realizing that I fell in love at a really inopportune time. I have grown and changed so much since the fall of 2008, and almost all of that change had to do with him or was caused by my relationship. So instead of my transition from high school to college being about me, it was about my relationship. And now, I'm not really sure who I am. I can't be the girl I was when I was with him--that's over. And I refuse to go back to who I was before him, because that girl is not a happy person. Who am I? Do I have the capacity to flirt anymore, or have I gotten so used to being predictable and stable that I don't know how to have fun? Could I even convince myself to have a fling, like everyone else my age does? I can't continue to act like I have a boyfriend. I am single.

I want to go out and flirt and have fun and make stupid mistakes, because that's what you do when you're single in college. I just don't know if I can. I've been safe inside this little bubble for a year and a half, inside a bubble where nothing is dangerous or challenging, and I've become a person that would rather just not flirt than risk a relationship that isn't perfect. I've been ruined by a guy who TOLD me he wanted to marry me, and now I can't imagine having sex without love, or flirting without genuine interest, or even casual dating. These are things I'm expected to do! Things I want to have in my life as I am becoming an adult! Things that are fun and fulfilling for the moment, and not necessarily forever. I've been taught to expect forever.

I love(d) him, and I'm glad in a lot of ways that I had this experience, but right now I just feel like a ruined woman. Like a future cat lady. Like someone who is going to end up jaded and pissed off, someone who solves problems with alcohol and denial. I know I'm better than that, but right now I can't seem to find that strong, intelligent, independent woman I thought I was. Maybe because she was just an illusion. Maybe I have to start all over.

I still can't quite believe this is real, despite the fact that I've been crying for the past 21 hours.

It doesn't feel like he left me. I'm not angry. I couldn't possibly be angry. I'm just sad. It feels like he's dead. He's dead and I'll never see him again, except for every time I close my eyes.

All I can think about are the nevers: I will never fall asleep next to him again with his hand resting on my waist. I will never ride with him in his car again, holding his hand and singing together loudly some obnoxious pop song. He will never teach me how to drive stick in his dad's truck. I'll never visit with his parents or his sweet cats again. I will never go to Texas and meet his best friend. I will never go to a Savoyards party with him and stand proudly and quietly at his side again. I will never kiss him again, or play with the scruff on his face, or fix his shirt collar, or get to tell him how much I love him.

Because I still love him--so much I can't even contemplate ever meeting someone new. I can't imagine some other guy making me laugh like he did, or hugging me quite like he did, or kissing me tenderly like he did. I don't want to.

I'm trying to be rational, to remember every reason he gave and know that I had worried about those exact same things for months. But it isn't working. So many things were obstacles to our relationship, but I wanted to work through them. I wanted to try to keep going. We may have almost nothing in common, but if we fell so deeply in love with one another, doesn't that count for anything?

It was one year, six months, two weeks, and one day. I'm watching our relationship flicker through my mind like a movie on fast-forward. Certain things keep standing out: the first time I met his family, Thanksgiving 2008, and his brother making fun of my age; that time I made him so angry at me last summer when I went to see the Harry Potter movie without him; the Greensboro Grasshoppers game a couple weeks ago when I thought everything was wonderful; the first and last times we ever had sex; our first Christmas together, which was magical and romantic; him meeting my extended family last August, I meeting his last June; sitting in his car in the Brightleaf Square parking lot on one of our very first dates, November 10 2008, and telling each other everything we could think of about our lives; the first time we said we loved each other and he drew the smiley face in the fogged-up glass of my car's rear window; the big fight we had earlier this semester when he said he believed I would go to hell; dinner dates when I felt so special and he smiled at me like I was perfect; him playing video games with my brothers; snuggling on the couch at Amelie's; going to his a capella group's concerts even though I hate being in that kind of church; everything, running back and forth and blending together.

I don't ever want to forget this. But it has to fade eventually if I ever want the pain to stop. How can I tell people about him? He can't be reduced to one sentence: "My ex was super Christian, brown hair, brown eyes, 5'7" or so, we were together a year and a half." I can't do that. They'll never know what I know--that he loved animals more than people most of the time, that he bought these really goofy Heelys and I teased him about it, that he has ichthyosis, which is a skin disorder, that he cries in sad movies but not in real life (usually).

I almost wish he had died, because then I would be allowed to still love him. I would be the grieving widow of sorts, but now I'm just the girl that got dumped and can't get over him. I feel like the heroine in a movie about ill-fated lovers, but a movie that no one would watch because the ending isn't happy.

He said he still loves me. We hugged for a long time and cried into each other's shirts, and I said I didn't want this to be the last time I hugged him. He said it wouldn't be. I don't believe that. I don't think we can be friends. Being friends with someone I love so fiercely would be like constantly ripping open the scars of losing him and rubbing acid into them. I want him to be happy, but I don't want to meet his new girlfriends and see him get married to someone else. It would tear me apart to see her standing where I should be standing at the altar.

So.

I guess it's really over. I wanted to spend my whole life with him, but now I can't even spend another day in his company.

I loved you then, I love you now, and I will love you always, Ben.

I should probably go drink some water now. This took me an hour to write and I sobbed the whole way through it. 

girls

who think they are models just because "photographers" take pictures of them

are so gross.

ke$ha

is retarded. I'm pretty sure I mean that literally. She definitely had Fetal Alcohol Syndrome or something.

gosh darn it,

why can't I have two birthdays a year? Can we please celebrate my half birthday?!

I really NEED iTunes gift cards so that I can buy all of Regina Spektor's albums and listen to them constantly. Also, money for ModCloth so that I can buy big clunky stylish wedges and gorgeous dresses from independent designers.

I swear, this isn't a phase of materialism and snobbishness. I think I'm trying to reinvent myself. And a large part of that is fashion and music.

 By the way...my half birthday is May 9.

pretty German poem.

Zögernd leise
in des Dunkels nächtger Stille
sind wir hier
und den Finger sanft gekrümmt,
leise, leise,
pochen wir andes Liebchens Kammerthür,
doch nun steigend,
schwellend, schwellend, hebend,
mit vereinter Stimme,
laut, rufen aus wir hoch-vertraut
Schlaf du nicht,
wenn der Neigung Stimme spricht

Sucht' ein Weiser nah und ferne
Menschen einst mit der Laterne
Wie viel seltner dann als Gold
Menschen uns geneigt und hold.
Drum wenn Freundschaft spricht,
Liebe spricht
Freundin Liebchen, schlaf du nicht.

Aber was in allen reichen,
wär dem Schlummer zu vergleichen?
Drum statt Worten und statt Gaben,
sollst du nun auch Ruhe haben,
noch ein Grüsschen,
noch ein Wort,
es verstummt die frohe Weise,
leise, leise,
schleichen wir, schleichen wir uns wieder fort.

--Franz Grillparzer

desires.

A list of ten things I would spend money on right now, if only I weren't in the throes of oncoming financial distress caused by a probable lack of student aid for the fall semester and/or not having a job:

1. Big, pretty wedges and sandals with lots of straps.
2. Regina Spektor albums on iTunes.
3. Dresses, stylish shorts, and skirts for summer.
4. Long strand necklaces.
5. My e.e. cummings tattoo.
6. A book of e.e. cummings poetry.
7. A new tote bag since the one I use now is stained.
8. Haircut to even up ends and layer properly.
9. "Everything is Illuminated" by Jonathan Safran Foer.
10. New cellphone since my screen is cracked and I can't see my text messages as I am typing them, which makes it really difficult for me to make sure all the words are spelled and spaced correctly, and then I die on the inside if it turns out I spelled something wrong.

UNC needs to tell me that they want me to go to their school. And then immediately say that they're giving me plenty of money so that I can stop stressing about how the hell I'm going to LIVE next year. And then Duke Global Health needs to call me and be like, "hey, come be a secretary person and get paid lots of money to dress up cute and answer phones." Then I will have a reason to buy dress up clothes and get a haircut. And my list will be shorter.

I'm getting a tattoo.

Yes. I am.

I've always wanted to--just 'cause!--but I hate all those tattoos that mean nothing. Like the tribal ones. Ugh.

A tattoo should either be beautiful art or have deep personal meaning, in my opinion. It is not a decision to be made lightly or on a whim or, god forbid, when one is drunk.

I need to decide where it will be, but I've decided WHAT it is:

"for life's not a paragraph
and death i think is no parenthesis"

These are the last two lines from an e.e. cummings poem that has rooted itself in my heart. I posted it on this blog a long time ago. This is how I want to live my life. I want to remember that the effects of my life can be endless; they are not limited to only me and this time; death cannot stop my living.

Thinking about that makes me really happy. I can change others' lives with mine. I CAN. And when I die, it is not the end for me. I will go on in some way. I don't know if I believe in an afterlife, but as long as those who love me live, I will live also.

I think that seems like a good reason to get it permanently inked on my body.

naming my nonexistent children.

Girl:

• Liese/Liesel/Liesa. Very German and adaptable. 
• Marie. My mom's middle name.
• Elana/Elena. Appealing. 
• Margaret. Elegant. Only a middle name.

Combinations I like:
Liesel Marie, Annaliese Margaret, Marie Elena

Boys:

• Ryan. I actually kind of like this more for a girl, but we'll see.
• Julian. Sexy.

Boys don't have a lot of nice names. Hm.

THIS

is something everyone should read.

Realizing how much your mother loves you, if yours is still around or not, is extremely touching and often something we forgot when we're annoyed.

musings.

When I was at Governor's School, one starlit evening, I was discussing the concept of reincarnation with my friend Elijah. He said he believed in it, and he said that sometimes you can just talk to someone and know if they are a new soul or an old soul.

"I'm definitely a new soul," he said, laughing. He described that he felt that way because he was so spastic and constantly energetic and all over the place. Then he looked at me, pondering quietly, and said, "You've been here before."

I felt this unbelievable frisson go through me, and I knew it was true.

I think about that a lot when I'm considering religion and the afterlife. Everyone in my life has a different opinion about what happens when you die. My boyfriend fervently believes in Heaven, Hell and a Day of Judgment. My mom believes in some kind of afterlife but not Hell. My dad is a former Catholic, so who even knows what he believes, if he believes anything at all. I recently have been telling people that I believe you just die and that's it, you become part of the ground--but I don't really believe it. My reason gets in the way of what my heart tells me a lot. My brain thinks believing in anything that can't be proved empirically is stupid, but my heart KNOWS that when Elijah said I was an old soul, he was speaking truth.

My mom and I were talking about this a month or so ago, and she described why she believes in something beyond death: conservation of energy. She believes strongly that the beauty of the natural processes of life could not have occurred within a divine helping hand. So, it follows that since in nature, energy can neither be created nor destroyed, a soul does not simply disappear when the body dies. Our self, our energy, becomes part of something else--whether that means reincarnation or an unconscious energy flow or "Heaven."

I like that. And it makes sense, so my brain is happy too.

Another idea that helps my brain believe is something my religious studies professor said at the beginning of this semester. No culture in human history has NOT developed some kind of religious cosmology as part of their culture. Primitive tribes thousands of years ago all fashioned a system of belief around a supernatural being/force or multiple beings/forces. These tribes didn't talk to each other; they didn't have Twitter. But somehow, they all developed beliefs that were essentially the same: there is more than this basic existence.

Also, the wondrous commentaries of children lead me to believe there is something more. They come to conclusions, often without adult guidance, about the marvelous place their grandparents go when they die. I just read a story in a comment on http://herbadmother.com about a mother who had two children, a boy and a girl, and who was not planning to have more. Her very young daughter came to her and asked where her other sibling was. The mother was obviously confused. The daughter explained that before she was born, there was her, her brother, and another child. "Where is the other one?" she asked, perplexed. And sure enough, two years later, the mother became pregnant unexpectedly with a second daughter. Her two daughters have been inseparable since the youngest one was born. If that doesn't make you believe in the permanence of souls, nothing will.


I think my struggle with religion is not because the concept is flawed, but rather because all religions existing now on this planet make my heart hurt. They violate what my soul knows to be the greatest purpose of existence, which is to love and be loved, by condemning others to the fiery pits of Hell, by making excuses for hypocrisy, by creating loopholes, by claiming that sometimes war is acceptable and God WANTS us to kill sinners, by hating others.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer came to the conclusion during his ministry and study that Jesus really intended for us to live according to the standards set in his Sermon on the Mount, that he loved us so much that he KNEW we could love our enemies, care for the poor, etc. This is why so many Christians upset me so much. The common modern theology teaches that, though God put his commandments down on tablets of stone, though Jesus preached on the Mount about how one should live one's life, that you don't really have to follow those rules because no one CAN. It's a cop out. It's lazy. They say that all one must do to go to Heaven is accept Christ as the savior of your soul because he died for your sins, and everyone else goes to Hell. Regardless of how one lived one's life.

I want to scream. "Don't you realize that means Gandhi is in Hell? Buddha? Malcolm X? Confucius? Millions of people that never even knew who Jesus was?" But they don't care, because they are comforted in their knowledge that they are safe, so they don't need to care about the eternal fate of others.

I absolutely cannot believe in a human, jealous, judgmental God who subjects beings HE CREATED to eternal punishment and torture simply because they were raised Muslim, Jewish, Shinto, Hindu, Buddhist, or even atheist. I do believe that God IS love, and any attempts to make him complicated, with human emotions like anger and petty jealousy, are simply insecure human efforts to make him something they can grasp, a being who fulfills their selfish desires to punish people they don't like. And since God is love, there cannot be a Hell. There is no Hell. No freaking way.

I have come to the conclusion that I believe in a somewhat Hindu/Buddhist concept of reincarnation. When we die, we are directed by God into our next life. Sometimes, when a life has not been well lived, we are reincarnated as "lower" forms, animals and insects. This is not punishment, but rather God trying to give us an easier existence to practice on and become better souls before moving up into a complicated human existence again. This is why murderers and rapists happen; they are new souls who cannot cope with the difficulties of human existence. They are not bad souls...they just need more practice. Eventually, a soul gets to the point where they have lived a very good life and are at peace with themselves and the universe. Then we move on to that place Hindus call nirvana, which is really just like Heaven, but perhaps not as conscious. Nirvana is the energy flow. Nirvana is eternal semi-conscious existence where one constantly experiences the love and presence of everyone they have ever loved. I imagine it is like how I feel when I am lying with my boyfriend: silently enveloped in love and quiet bliss. No one is punished. Everyone is loved. Every soul gets to float forever with every soul they ever touched.

Beauty is truth. This is how I know that I will see my grandpa again. Our hearts know when something is right, because the beauty appeals to us. That was God's plan. And I know that now.

TMI.

I think it's funny when men write erotica from the female perspective and say things like, "She had never felt so much like a woman," etc., when some girl is getting railed with her hands tied behind her. As a progressive feminist, that doesn't really bother me in and of itself; the goal of gender equality (to me) is not that all women experience their femininity the same way, but rather that they have the choice to be whatever kind of women they want. So yes, I am sure that some women feel fulfilled and "womanly," whatever that means, during sex acts in which they are bound, gagged, tied up, taken from behind, whatever. What bugs me is the male expectation, revealed by some erotic writers, that THAT is how a woman should be sexy. She should submit fully to whatever fantasy her lover has in mind and she WILL enjoy it, even though it isn't necessarily her fantasy.

Being expected to perform in a particular way, even if it is "promiscuous" or "deviant" or "dirty" or "naughty," is not sexual liberation. You are only liberated when you make the conscious choice to act as best fulfills you and let everyone know that is why you do what you do. There is nothing wrong with being submissive, dominant, sado-masochistic, or traditional in your sexual expression. There is something wrong with equating sexual freedom to having lots of sex--that is a product of male imagination, and a dangerous product at that. Freedom comes with honest self-expression.

I hate me right now.

I was so proud of myself for applying to Carolina--for getting all the materials together, for writing the essay, for paying the $70 application fee.

But somehow, I completely forgot about applying for financial aid.
I am an idiot. There's no way around it.

So I sent in the application this morning...a month after I was supposed to do so. I emailed the admissions office asking if there was any chance I would be offered aid even though I am incredibly stupid and don't deserve it. I'm almost sure there's no way it'll happen. I am royally screwed.

I made a list of my options (assuming I get accepted to UNC):

1.  I miraculously get financial aid and everything is groovy. (Yeah, right.)
2. I work my ass off all summer and throughout the school year to pay for UNC out of pocket. 
3. I come back to UNCG and hate myself forever.
4. I take a year off to work.

This is awful. I'm ruining my own life. And I don't even HAVE a summer job lined up yet.

I am not PC.

1. There ARE, indeed, stupid questions.
2. Some opinions are just wrong. Misinformed, ignorant, nonsensical, whatever. Don't say something idiotic and then tell me you have the right to do so. No.
3. Forced sterilizations are a good thing. I believe in individual liberties only to the point that society is not harmed. And some people (e.g., the poor, the stupid, those with insane religious beliefs) need to NOT have children because they cannot raise them properly. Period.
4. It's not racist if it is based on repetitive observation. It's just true.

oh no.

I feel like I'm losing control of my life. I never put on makeup anymore. I used to be so pretty. My hair looks like shit all the time. I have no style. Most days I wear sneakers and a hoodie. I don't do things I want to do because I've just accepted the fact that I am, apparently, a really boring person.

But I don't have to be. I need to find a way to get my life back. Just because I'm in a relationship doesn't mean that I have to give up everything else. I'm thinking about getting my nose pierced, just for the hell of it. And I'm going to cut my hair in a couple hours...let's see if it turns out okay. At least it will be different. Oh, and I'm going to start running so that I have more energy when I wake up in the morning--energy that can be used to actually look like I give a shit about my personal appearance.

I'm going to go to parties and local music events and actually get out of my room sometimes. I'm going to do whatever the hell I want, even if that includes things that are illegal. I'm tired of acting like I'm middle-aged. I'm 19 years old! It's time to enjoy life!

ok, so.

IF YOU ARE CHRISTIAN, THEN YOU ARE RELIGIOUS.
You people are so idiotic.

Some examples of the bullshit:

1. "It's not a religion; it's a relationship."
   Alright, uhm...IT'S A RELIGION. Go ahead and have a relationship with your Messiah or whatever shit, but it's still a religion.
2. "I'm not religious; I'm just Christian."
   ...I can't even respond to that level of stupid.
3. "It's actually not a religion--it's a lifestyle."
   Piss off. Part of how religion is commonly defined involves a prescribed way to live one's life. To be devout, one must live as one's religion instructs in everyday life. EVERY religion teaches about an ideal lifestyle. You ain't special.
4. "I've been saved."
   Oh, how nice for you. I have been too! A lifeguard pulled me out of the pool once when--what? It's different? Well, then maybe you should use a term that MAKES SOME EFFING SENSE. Like, I dunno, "I believe that Jesus of Nazareth is the son of the one true God and that he died on the cross for my sins." You weren't in any danger; you haven't been "saved."

Go away and don't talk to me if you're going to be annoying. Christianity is a religion just like Islam, Judaism, Shinto, Buddhism, Hinduism, Rastafarianism, Wicca, Neo-Druidism, and Daoism. You're not superior, and you're not inherently different. You don't get to call it something else just because you're closed-minded.

NERVOUS.

I'm about to submit my application to UNC. Oh my god oh my god oh my god.

me heart women's studies.

I talked to Phoebe about chivalry today, and why she doesn't think it's dead, and why I wish it would be. It bugs me that so many girls get annoyed if the guy doesn't run around the car to open the door for them. I feel so much more comfortable with my relationship because we open doors for EACH OTHER. And I pay for dinner sometimes. I don't want to be treated like I can't get out of a car by myself. I believe in mutual courtesy. Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean you get to act like I'm a helpless flower.

Also, I explained to her why I don't use the word "hysterical." The Greek root hystera means "of or pertaining to the womb/uterus," as in the English word hysterectomy. Therefore, hysterical, whether used to indicate something being quite funny or a state of emotional panic, is really just a way of saying that one is acting like a woman by losing control and being over-emotional. Oh, language.

I just read this essay like five minutes ago called, "The Politics of Housework." It's wonderful. It was written in 1970 by a woman named Pat Mainardi. She discusses why men absolutely refuse to do housework and their rationalizations:

"So ensued a dialogue that's been going on for several years. Here are some of the high points:

'I don't mind sharing the housework but I don't do it very well. We should each do the things we're best at.'
Meaning: Unfortunately I'm no good at things like washing dishes or cooking. What I do best is a little light carpentry, changing light bulbs, moving furniture. (How often do you move furniture?)
Also meaning: Historically the lower classes (Blacks and women) have had hundreds of years doing menial jobs. It would be a waste of manpower to train someone else to do them now.
Also meaning: I don't like the dull stupid boring jobs, so you should do them.
... 'I hate it more than you. You don't mind it so much.'
Meaning: Housework is shit work. It's the worst crap I've ever done. It's degrading and humiliating for someone of my intelligence to do it. But for someone of your intelligence...'
... 'Women's Liberation isn't really a political movement.'
Meaning: The Revolution is coming too close to home.
Also meaning: I am only interested in how I am oppressed, not how I oppress others. Therefore the war, the draft, and the university are political. Women's Liberation is not.'"

 Hilarious. And absolutely brilliant. And true.

making excuses.

This one will be short and sweet. Sort of.

There is a Facebook group named, "EVERY GIRL IS NATURALLY BEAUTIFUL ♥" that claims hundreds of fans and preaches exactly what the name says. There is also a popular movement within American women to topple the existing standard of beauty, specifically the part about being thin. However, they are doing this by demeaning naturally thin women, making fun of women who like to exercise and stay fit, and saying that being bigger is caused by a genetic trait that makes them "plus-sized."

While I agree that the standard of beauty in this country and around the world is extreme and unrealistic, these chicks are pissing me off. Yes, most girls have some attractive physical characteristics. Yes, it is possible that you are a size 14 because you are genetically disposed to be tall and carry more flesh. BUT SOME GIRLS ARE JUST UGLY, AND SOME GIRLS ARE JUST FAT. It's true. It may not be terribly PC, but it's TRUE.

As sad as it is, there are people in the world who are just unattractive. They may be wonderful, giving, generous people on the inside, but that doesn't change the exterior. Deal with it. Also, if you are unhealthy, eating too much, and not exercising, YOU ARE NOT BEAUTIFUL AND YOU ARE NOT "A REAL WOMAN." A real woman would take care of herself. It's just a pathetic excuse for girls who don't want to work hard, so they pretend to be happy and sexy at 280 pounds. It's not sexy. It's gross.

I hate that American culture encourages this kind of crap. It's not healthy to make excuses for everything about yourself and get yourself off the hook from ever trying to improve as a person. Let's be realistic. Jeez.

ah, what to do.

I've decided to write my UNC application essay on Neville Longbottom. The application is due March 1. I am in trouble.

I don't think I can write this essay. Neville certainly is an interesting character, but I don't think I can make a strong enough point with him. I am notorious for this kind of second-guessing, though. I just don't know what to do. I am also notorious for being a terrible, terrible writer when it actually matters. I can bullshit about politics and religion and once or twice a year write a poem, but when there's a format and a due date, I lose my mind.

None of the three prompts inspires me. I have a couple weak, insipid ideas, and I refuse to use them. I'm far too picky.

Let me share with you how STUPID these prompts are:

1. People find many ways to express their inner world. Some write novels; others paint, perform, or debate; still others design elegant solutions to complex mathematical problems. How do you express your inner world, and how does the world around you respond?
2. It's easy to identify with the hero--the literary or historical figure who saves the day. Have you ever identified with a figure who wasn't a hero--a villain or a scapegoat, a bench-warmer or a bit player? If so, tell us why this figure appealed to you--and if your opinion changed over time, tell us about that, too.
3. After your long and happy life, your family must choose no more than a dozen words to adorn your headstone. What do you hope they choose, and why?

 Those are my options? Really?!

1. My inner world is a lot of political and religious opinion. How I express my inner world is ranting on this blog and posting status updates on Facebook. Occasionally, I vent to my boyfriend about some topic and then embarrass myself and never want to talk about it ever again. Not exactly essay material. No one wants a student who does nothing productive with her ideas.
2. Neville Longbottom is the only non-hero I can think of. I don't read nearly as much as I used to. I could think of branching out to non-literary figures, but I'm afraid. Also, anything I say is going to be cliched and corny.
3. My favorite poem is by e.e. cummings, and ends like this: "for life's not a paragraph/and death I think is no parenthesis." It's exactly twelve words, and it describes how I want to live my life. I want the effects of my life to reach beyond  my death. BUT IT'S SO CLICHE. I can just see it..."I wanna change the world, omg! Starting with world peace. And like, kids reading. Yeah."

I'm just not good enough for this essay. I'm too literal and not creative. I feel like I may as well save my money and stay at UNCG and be miserable for three more years. Whatever, it's just the rest of my life.

pretty thing.

I haven't changed this blog since I set it up 3 years ago (wow! by the way), so I figured it deserved a new layout for its hard work.

a new way to look at things.

Today, in my Intro to Religious Studies class, we discussed different sociological schools of thought regarding religion. This is kind of my thing, so I was pretty excited. There are two major philosophers that my teacher brought up: Auguste Comte and Émile Durkheim. Both French, both positivist (which is an empirical worldview; i.e. nothing is real that cannot be perceived with the senses), both major founding figures in modern sociology.

Comte, who was raised Catholic, basically believed that all religion was false, but that it was necessary in society. He theorized that there were three stages of any society: theological, metaphysical, and scientific, in that specific order. The progression of the stages has to do with how society explains the way in which the world works (cosmology). The theological stage is best exemplified by Greco-Roman mythology; stories involving gods were created to explain why it thundered, why rain fell, what an echo was, etc. The metaphysical phase involves more complex theories still having to do with divine power; this stage is halfway between pure superstition and empiricism. The scientific stage is obviously the empirical ideal: all knowledge has basis in observation.

He believed that all religions were mired in the second stage, the metaphysical worldview, so Comte invented a new religion, which he named the Religion of the Great Being. It was like a typical religion in the sense that it included rites and prayers and worship, but the object of worship was society itself.

This I find extremely interesting. Society does take on a life of its own; the behavior of groups cannot be boiled down to the behavior of the individuals within them. I like the idea that we are all interconnected, that a religion of sorts could exist that recognized the powerful force that ties together all human experience.

Anyway. It didn't take on, obviously, and a few decades later, Émile Durkheim took Comte's theories a little further. He agreed that religion was a necessary sociological phenomenon, but did not believe that it was totally false. Don't get me wrong--Durkheim was NOT a religious believer. He came from a family of Jewish rabbis, and refused at a young age to continue in that line. However, he never severed the ties between himself and the Jewish community.

Durkheim's philosophy was that religion sets up a system of symbolic values that embody the highest aspirations and expectations of that society/community. Through what a religion holds sacred, one can see what the ultimate and most important values of that religion are. My teacher gave a wonderful example: he talked about the basis of all Christian tradition and belief, which is the story of Jesus' life, crucifixion, and resurrection from the dead. Durkheim believed that this story may not be factual, but it contains important truth. The Christian religion, in his eyes, is not about Jesus ascending to sit at the right hand of the Father, but rather values of sacrifice, forgiveness, etc.

I love this. I don't believe most of what the Bible says; it's just a book written by fallible MEN with their own opinions and agendas. A lot of it is not factual. But there is great truth in religion. I can believe that.

a peek into my life.

Today, I am beginning to brainstorm and write my essay to accompany my transfer application to Carolina. The prompt reads as follows:

"It's easy to identify with the hero--the literary or historical figure who saves the day. Have you ever identified with a figure who wasn't a hero--a villain or a scapegoat, a bench-warmer or a bit player? If so, tell us why this figure appealed to you--and if your opinion changed over time, tell us about that, too."

I have decided to write about Neville Longbottom. I think he exemplifies personality characteristics that are often snubbed by Western culture in favor of a more macho, reckless attitude, better exemplified by Harry Potter. Plus he's just adorable.

This is a text conversation between Ben and I:

me: so guess what i'm writing my essay about
him: How you relate to a literary character who isn't the hero.
me: how do you know this??
him: It was just a guess. You told me to guess.
me: lies! you checked facebook on your phone didntcha
him: Yupperz
me: hehe. more importantly, i'm writing about neville longbottom. that's the interesting part.
him: Yup. Agreed
me: i wuv him and his awkward. this is gonna be great if i can actually write it. all i have now is brainstorming notes
him: It'll be great :)
me: i sure do hope so. it could be the clincher. this is my fate!! neville longbottom will determine the rest of my life.
him: Hehe... So for now he IS the chosen one.


I love my boyfriend.

still alive

I swear, I'll post something new soon.