Did you know...

75% of all women will contract chlamydia at some point in their lives?

human trafficking is the new human rights issue this year?

apparently all a girl needs to look refreshed and ready for the day is white eyeliner on the bottom lid and a little brown (not black mascara) with some bronzy tinted moisturizer?

fur vests are very chic?

I learned all of these things today from a Glamour magazine at the Info Desk. Then I wept for women everywhere. Except for the ones profiting off of those of us who actually pay for such trash, them I shook my fist at.

Also, 95% of women polled masturbate more than once a week.

I have my first and only exam tomorrow. It's Comparative Politics of Western European Polities. I just don't want to write the essays. It's gonna be at least three essays, and I just don't have the energy to write them all out. Tests are so taxing. I would much rather prefer a nice long discussion with the professor than 3 bluebooks of solid writing.

Heather's contacts are bothering her. So is Dr. Johnson-Ross. But we're allowed to chastise the contacts, not a lady with her PhD.

Yay, we're gonna go see Mary Prankster!!! It's Heather and me, and whatever band of traveling idiots would like to join us for a New Year's at Fletcher's. Of course, as I will have just landed in Baltimore at 9 am that morning, after taking off from Seattle at 10 pm the night prior, I will be in the BEST of spirits, and I'm sure so much fun to be around! That's why they made the New Year's Eve two drink special, for little ladies like me who don't need anymore than that. Actually, the two drink special is intended for those souls who can't stop after the first two, luckily I've managed to avoid that little monkey pit.

Yeah, test tomorrow. I'm supposed to study with the Fratto tonight. And I'll study tomorrow. But it's not gonna be my lack of knowledge that'll get me, it'll my complete lack of interest. I just don't give a damn.

Tatum O'Neal's life, if I haven't filled you in - TRAGIC! But she's bringing it back. I'm sure the book deal and tour helped with that.

Thanks to HJK, my new favorite song is "Mr. Morton" by SkeeLo. "And what the predicate says he does." As someone who still doesn't understand the predicate nominative or adjective and took lots of Latin, still without understanding the concept of linking verbs, this song is a lifesaver. And I heart SkeeLo. I wish I could be his girl who looked good so he would call me.

I'm thinking of downloading iTunes. But not really jazzed about it, I no like the Apple Corp. right now. No real reason, just a feeling.

OK, Mr. Morton is getting kinda stalkerish at the end of the song.

What I learned from John Mayer Has A TV Show - John Mayer is a douchebag. Or more correctly, a J-hole. You brought it on yourself, dude, when you decided you were cooler than your fans.

I should make some dinner. Sorry for the inconsistency of this little entry. There ain't much consistency in this mind of mine these days...

Stupid book

Am currently reading stupid book aimed at teaching women to stop trying to read subliminal messages in the actions and words of men and just realize that, in reality, they're probably "just not that into you." Hate this book for a variety of reasons.

1. It's right. No woman should have to live her life trying to decode a man's actions to fit them into her low-balled expectation for what we consider a relationship. It breaks all of the rules in the little games that TV, movies, and life has taught me about male-female relationships.

2. It's sad that women need a book to tell them to stop making excuses for their crappy boyfriends and just realize it's going nowhere and they are just being needlessly hurt.

3. There's apparently an epidemic of crappy boyfriends out there who are too cowardly to say how they actually feel, instead preferring to ignore, cheat on, and confuse the women they call their girlfriends. Sadly, I knew this before. Stupid personal experience...(lots of fist shaking) Would have preferred to labor under the illusion that this was a one-time deal, not 50/50 or worse chance in any given relationship as book suggests.

4. I find the book insulting. It's content matter, tone, general message - I don't need some man reformed through marriage telling me all the stuff that women do wrong that hurts them time and again.

5. Apparently, I actually do need some man reformed through marriage telling me all the stuff that women do wrong that hurts them time and again, because it all makes sense now.

6. Have secret fear now that if I don't settle for one of the emotional fuckwits mentioned in the book, I will never find anyone to live up to my rather reasonable standards and will in fact die alone. Book doesn't really address that, saying only that the author firmly believes that there is a perfect person for everyone, someone who makes their partner feel adored and wonderful and inspires the same in return. A little too optimistic to be believable, if you ask me.

7. Book very boldly proclaims "He's Just Not That Into You" on the cover, making it hard to read in public.

8. Book, in attempting to return some of the control in relationships to women, makes me feel powerless.

9. It cost thirteen dollars, I can think of a lot better stuff I can do with thirteen bucks than have my world turned upside down.

10. Hating it makes me feel vindicated for now owning it.

I don't know what to do with this book. Is it like all of those other horrible books for women? Is it just preying on the insecurities of women? Is it creating insecurities in women? The stuff in it makes sense, but it's certainly a bitter pill to swallow. This book might have saved me a good deal of heartache earlier this year, however. But I feel as if, at it's core, I should be offended by it. Humph.

I'm going to bed, I think. Bed never hurt me. Bed has never sent me mixed messages that I then interpreted in an unrealistic manner. Bed is simple and good. Boys are not.

Approaching the end

With one badminton final tomorrow (today), one paper, and one exam to go - I'm almost done with Fall Semester 2004. And I couldn't be happier.

I'm finishing this sucker out on top, though. The bad things tried to keep me down, they threw boulders in my path and stuck gum in my hair, but I came through with flying freaking colors!! Jerks...go find someone else to bother, I'm done with you.

As the actual ends grows ever closer, I realize that I am completely ready to leave this place. Heck, I'm ready to put my sneakers on and sprint out, and I don't sprint anywhere. I got what I needed from McDaniel College, most of all the understanding that I am ready for things beyond this place. But I wish I had realized this two weeks before graduation instead of two semesters. Now I'm just treading water until I can get out.

In the meantime, I can do such fun things as:
- decorate my future apartment in my head.
- fill my future closet in my head.
- plan my future career and wedding.
- actually decide what I'm doing next year.

Current options for post-grad include:
- Peace Corps
- teaching English in foreign lands like Thailand, where I will certainly be picked up for drug trafficking 'cause it's just what happens to white girls over there.
- getting a respectable job in the field of public policy
- getting another job to pay my bills when public policy proves unprofitable.
- get one unfulfilling job to pay all of bills.
- find sugar daddy, retire into life of leisure and pool boys. and gardeners. and handy men. and male escorts.
- eh, grad school....but i don't want that yet. I need to learn stuff first.

But right now, I'm headed off to bed. Or reading more of the messed up life of Tatum O'Neal.
My favorite line so far - "but denial in my mother ran as deep as her love for amphetamines." ... though I'm sure there will be more to come.

Still have that paper to write...

I had to turn in my ODK survey today - a list of all the things I've done at this school, activities, awards, positions, etc. I hate doing these things! I always feel like they are just asking me to pander to the horribly judgemental captains of school spirit on campus. "I know I wasn't on SGA, but look I did all this other stuff. Look at all that service, and so many leadership positions! I am the best Cathy College-girl ever!" Like my experiences over the past four years are supposed to justify me as a person.

But really, I hate that they throw me into competition with all the other little achievers out there. We all do stuff! You can't live in a place like a college campus and not get involved in something, it's impossible. Someone will drag you somewhere and, lo and behold, look at that - you have a new interest! So why do we all need to line our activities up and measure them against each other. So I don't like SGA but someone else does, that doesn't necessarily mean that I am less engaged or influential on campus. Why can't we all just exist and be happy with our own accomplishments and revel in the successes of others at the same time? Jeez, I hate competition.

I don't need your validation, damnit!!!

Humph.

I do need to write my stinking paper though. Yucky, stupid paper.

The most important part of college is the people you connect with and the understanding of yourself you develop. NOT THE CLUBS YOU JOIN OR HOW MUCH YOU CAN CONVINCE ETHAN SEIDEL YOU ROCK!

Yeah, so procrastination is officially the new black. Off to create. Or maybe just make tea...

An Explanation

Feel I should explain the Shadowboxer bit -

See, there's a Fiona Apple song called Shadowboxer, lyrics below:
Once my loverNow my friendWhat a cruel thingTo pretendWhat a cunning wayTo condescendOnce my lover andNow my friendOh, you creep upLike the cloudsAnd you set my soul at easeThen you letYour love aboundAnd you bring meTo my kneesOh, it's evil, babeThe way you letYour grace enrapture meWhen will you knowI'd be insaneTo ever let thatDirty game recapture meYou made meA shadowboxer, babyI wanna be readyFor what you doI've been swingingAll around me'Cause I don't knowWhen you're gonnaMake your moveOh, your gazeIs dangerousAnd you fill yourSpace so sweet If I let youGet too closeYou'll set yourSpell on meSo darlin'I just wanna sayJust in caseI don't come throughI was on to every playI just wanted youBut, oh, it's so evilMy loveThe way you've noReverence to my concernSo I'll be sure toStay wary of you, loveTo save the pain ofOnce my flame andTwice my burnYou made meA shadowboxer, babyI wanna be readyFor what you doI've been swingingAll around me'Cause I don't knowWhen you're gonnaMake your move

Strange it copied without spacing...

Anyway, the song is about a girl who because she got burned is just gonna be really wary from now on. And I've been this way a lot of my life. I'll give something a try, give it a fair shot, but I'm generally holding back, cause I don't trust your motives and more than that, I don't trust you.

Now I'm really hungry and still don't have a 20 page paper written, so I'm at least going to take care of the hunger part.

So it starts again

Look, a new blog! I love new blogs! I love new blogs a lot, especially when they distract me from my massive unwritten paper. Blogs rock. In related news, I hate the word "blog."

So I mysteriously deleted my last weblog. We're not sure how, but it is in fact gone. Luckily, it had nothing of value in it. Just the bitter ramblings of a bitter, bitter girl. Who knows where all that came from?

I figured out the other day that I have been to over 50 live concerts in my life. Live concerts, in this case, meaning shows for which a ticket was purchased and I probably stood with a varying number of other fans waiting for onstage inspiration and rock god-ness to float down to us, NOT high school, middle school, elementary school, college, etc. shows of choral/band/orchestral excellence. Over 50. That's a hell of a lot of ticket money!

It all started with REM in '95 probably. I was 12, Katie Musar decided she didn't like Gary anymore, I guess, and I got the benefit. I believe it was at this show that I learned the "stand with arms crossed and sway" technique I'm so fond of.

Then...
Soul Coughing, REM again, Mike Doughty lots of times, Jimmy Eat World, Three Doors Down I think more than once, Oleander, Radiohead, Fuel, Eve6 twice, They Might Be Giants an insane number of times, Ben Folds, Ben Folds, Ben Folds, Vanessa Carlton and some band called RubyHorse, Maroon5 twice, John Mayer three times, Mary Prankster, Mike Doughty some more, Howie Day, Greenmachine, Switchfoot, maybe Reel Big Fish, hopefully Mary Prankster again, more I can't remember. David Gray was in there somewhere. Wait, Counting Crows, too! Dropkick Murphys, but I didn't really listen.

That's a lot of shows! And I'm sure I have Katie Musar to thank for all of it. She is probably why I am such a show snob who hates to dance and hates the people around her. I'm there for the music, not to overhear why the Lo-esque girl next to me hates the song being played right now.

And I can't even tell you which was the best of them all. Prankster was certainly a barrel of fun, but so was the first time I saw John Mayer and the last time I saw Ben Folds. Howie Day was amazing, but I was really tired and a little cranky. Then there was the time I was convinced Michael Stipe was actually singing "At My Most Beautiful" to me, a great many rows and sections back.

I've never beem drunk or high at a show, which I think is commendable. I've only seen people get carried out a few times (stupid kids at Jimmy Eat World, crazy punk kids), I've crowd surfed once and will probably never do it again cause it's not fun having to get back to your friends. I've made friends with people around me, I've pissed off people around me. It's all in good, live show fun.

Don't know what brought all of this on, perhaps it's that I do have a 20 page unwritted paper due in two days and no desire to write or think about it. Perhaps it's because I love my history and this is a part of it. But it's probably the paper.