Tuesday, December 30, 2008

books, books, books.

i finished everything is illuminated the other day. i was reading it while in a room full of approximately eight friends all playing wii, and i cried quietly as the story took an abrupt and distressing turn. i've never cried in front of other people because of a book before, but it was a strange and nice feeling.



now i'm reading a book about a man who follows the rules of the Bible literally for an entire year. i expect it will help my spiritual dillemas more than i previously anticipated. i'm excited. i expect this will be a book i pass on to many others.

Friday, December 26, 2008

christmas.

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no matter how hard i try, i cannot like christmas.

i try, really i do. but in the end, all of those hallmark reasons you're supposed to love christmas, just aren't there for me. and i truly think that my mother is going mentally crazy. that doesn't help either.

Monday, December 22, 2008

complete.

i am so completely and utterly satisfied and thrilled with my life at this moment in time.



happy birthday, andrew!

Thursday, December 18, 2008

starving daughters.

The following are all quotes from the book Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters: How The Quest for Perfection is Harming Young Women by Courtney Martin. It begins talking mostly about weight, but delves into much more. It reminded me so much of so many conversations I've had with countless friends of mine that it broke my heart. I'd like to think it broke in a good way, though.

Being underweight or overweight so often stems from the same roots: a society of extremes, struggles for control, learned behavior, self-hatred. …Being on either end of the spectrum—totally obsessed or completely unengaged—is hazardous to your health. These extremes are crippling our society's collective economic, intellectual and even spiritual health.

Ninety-one percent of women recently surveyed on a college campus reported dieting; 22 percent of them dieted "always" or "often". In 1995, 34 percent of high school-age girls in the United States thought they were overweight. Today, 90 percent do. Over half the females between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five would prefer to be run over by a truck than be fat and two-thirds surveyed would rather be mean or stupid.

Connect the dots and you have a tangled, paralyzing web of obsession. Seemingly isolated cases—the gagging sound in the bathroom, the famly-style bowl of pasta disappearing in the night, the meticulous food diary—seen together are evidence of a larger picture of pathology. My generation is expending its energy on the wrong things. We are holed up in our bedrooms doing Google searches on low-fat foods, churning away on stationary bikes in torturous spinning classes and feeling guilty, inadequate, shameful and out of control in the process. We thought we would save the rainforest and find a cure for AIDS. Instead we are doing research on the most accurate scales and the latest diet trends.

Professors, sociologists and parents have called us apathetic but really we are distracted. We don't have time to think about the war in Iraq, because we can't get past the war in our own minds: Should I be "bad" and have pizza, or should I be "good" and have a salad? We can't look up and out because we are too busy looking down, scrutinizing our bodies in magnifying full-length mirrors.

At the center of most of the young women I know today are black holes. Next to the brilliance and the creativity and the idealism is a bubbling, acid pit of guilt and shame and jealousy and restlessness and anxiety. It isn't that they aren't driven or brilliant or powerful or determined. To the contrary, most of the women I know between the ages of nine and twenty nine are complete dynamos. …My friends and I, girls and young women across the nation…harbor black holes at the center of our beings. We, the perfect girls, try to fill theses gaping holes with food, blue ribbons, sexual attention, trendy clothes, but no matter how hard we try, they remain. We have called this insatiable hunger by many different names—ambition, drive, pride—but in truth it is a fundamental distrust that we deserve to be on this earth in the shape we are. A perfect girl must always be a starving daughter because there is never enough—never enough accomplishment. Never enough control. Never enough perfect.

We must not only be perfect—as in accomplished, brilliant, beautiful, witty—but also appear as if we achieve all this perfection through an easygoing, fun-loving approach. Perfect girls are powerfully afraid of seeming too uptight, rigid or moralistic. We don't just want to achieve; we also want to be cool. The "perfect" part of this equation gets us in trouble with eating disorders or obsessions with food and fitness. The Herculean effort to appear effortless keeps us silent or nonchalant about the pain we are in.

If the average woman speands about an hour a day contemplating her size, her calorie intake, and her exercise regiment starting at the age of twelve and she lives for eighty-five years, she will have lost over three years of her life. Three years! Most women I know get irritated if they spend more than five minutes waiting for a bus or talking to an uninteresting guy at a bar. Three years of inefficiacy, powerlessness and sheer waste should make us furious!

What can we do to close the gap between what we know—that body obsession is a waste of time and spirit—and how we actually lead our lives and think about ourselves?

We [perfect girls] take ourselves very, very seriously. We are the peacemakers, the do-gooders, the givers, the savers. We are on time, overly prepared, well read, and witty, intellectually curious, always moving. We are living contradictions. We are socially conscious, multicultural and anti-corporate but we still shop at Gap and Banana Republic. We listen to hip-hop, indie rock and country on our iPods. We are girls in hooker boots, wife beaters and big earrings. We make documentary films, knit sweaters and DJ. We are "social smokers", secretly happy that the cigarettes might speed up our metabolisms, hoping they won't kill us in the process. We pride ourselves on getting as little sleep as possible and thrive on self-deprivation. We drink coffee, a lot of it. We are on birth control, Prozac and multivitamins. We do strip aerobics, hot yoga, go five more minutes than the limit on any exercise machine at the gym. We are relentless, judgmental with ourselves and forgiving to others. We never want to be as passive-aggressive as our mothers, never want to marry men as uninspired as our fathers. We carry the old world of guilty—center of families, keeper of relationships, caretaker of friends—with the new world of ambition—rich, independent, powerful. We are the daughters of feminists who said, "You can be anything" and we heard, "You have to be everything". We must get A's. We must make money. We must save the world. We must be thin. We must be unflappable. We must be beautiful. We are the anorectics, the bulimics, the overexercisers, the overeaters. We must be perfect. We must make it look effortless. We grow hungrier and hungrier with no close what we are for. The holes inside of us grow bigger and bigger.

Our bodies, our needs, our cravings, our sadness, our weakness, our stillness inevitably become our own worst enemies. It is the starving daughter within who must be shut down, muted, ignored…eventually killed off.

The face we show to the world is one of beauty, maturity, determination, strength, willpower and ultimately accomplishment. But beneath the façade is a daughter—starving for attention and recognition, starving to justify her own existence. The starving daughter within annoys us, slows us down, embarrasses us. She is the one who doubts our ability to handle a full-time job and full-time school. She gets scared, lonely, homesick. She drinks too much, cries too loud, is nostalgic and sappy. When neglected she seeks comfort in cookies, coffee ice cream, warm bread—transgressions that make the perfect girl in us angry. The starving daughter emerges in midnight confessions, a best friend's sudden tears, a suite mate buried in mountains of covers, shades drawn, eating ice cream in the middle of the day and watching Buffy reruns in the dark. Starving daughters are full of self-doubt. We don't want to worry so much about making other people happy but feel like we can never say thank you enough times, never show enough humility, never help enough, never feel enough shame. We feel guilty. We fear conflict. We are dramatic, sensitive, injured easily. We are clinging to all kinds of attachment that in our minds we know we should elt go of but in our bodies we feel incapable of relingquishing. We are self-pitying, sad, even depressed. We are tired of trying so hard all of the time. We feel like giving up. We feel hopeless. We want love, acceptance, happy endings, and the rest. We wish we had faith, that we weren't ruled by our heads and could live in our hearts more often. We want to have daughters, little girls who will love us unconditionally. We steal small things such as candy bars and bras—that make us feel special for just a moment. We try to fill the black holes inside of us with forbidden foods. We never feel full. We always feel cold. We starve for a god. We don't like to talk about this part of ourselves. Our whole lives, we have received so much affirmation for the perfect part that the starving daughter part feels like an evil twin. Sometimes we can even convince ourselves that the sadness, self-doubts and hunger don't exist, that we like to be this busy, that we like to eat small, unfulfilling portions or work out constantly. …Young women struggle with this duality. The perfect girl in each drives forward, the starving daughter digs in her heels. The perfect girl wants excellence, the starving daughter calm and nurturance. The perfect girl takes on the world, the starving daughter shrinks from it. It is a power struggle between two forces and at the center almost every time is an innocent body.


This is not a blame game. My mother's generation taught mine to be questioning, critical, outspoken, unafraid. Well, here we are: looking back on our childhoods and trying to understand how we acquired such bottomless hunger for achievement and perfection and such resistance to balance, wellness and satisfaction.



Mom puts in the time, but she also restricts and restrains. Dad is rarely around, but when he is, it is a laugh a minute, a real party time. As a result, femaleness is eqated with restriction in many little girls' minds. Maleness is about wild abandon, sweetness, fun.


She had a strong sense of her parents' political views, their philosophical leanings, the musicals they loved and the classic movies they adored. But she knew nothing of her father's soul. She knew nothing of what made him tick, what drove him, what scared him. She knew nothing of what he loved most.


One of the trademark perfect girl talents is this ability to ignore and overcome the body's weakness in pursuit of a goal. We quickly condition ourselves to tune out our own internal signals, our aches and pains, our hungers and tune up our plans, our determination, our control. What works in the short term, however, eventually leads to burnout. Many of us, so expert at overcoming our own pain on the road to success, end up crossing the finish line but not without disease and heartbreak.

We want to have fun. We want to dance. We want to relieve stress. We want to be young and reckless. We want to meet people who don't bore us with the same predictable stories. We want to believe in the magic of chemistry. We want to earn bragging rights about the posh club we got into. We want to feel lusted after and to lust. We want to numb, forget, fuck. The truest answer is that we want to be seen and we want to be loved.

Being noticed is ordinary, fleeting and impersonal. Being seen is extraordinary, lasting and intimate. Being noticed is common and only skin-deep. Being seen is rare and profound. It is what happens when you stay up all night talking in a stranger's car because the conversation was so good you forget to reach for the door handle. Suddenly it is dusk outside and your stomach is growling and your future feels as if it is laid out in front of you like a highway in the desert. Being seen is when your boyfriend knows that horseshoe scar on your knee was from when you fell in the gravel of the playground in fourth grade playing flag football and he adores it. Being seen is a hand on the small of your back as you walk through a doorway, a glass of water when you are coughing in the middle of the night, his making a passing reference to something you said so long ago you barely remember it. Being seen is when your girlfriend asks, "Why do you seem sad?" before you have realized that you are, indeed, sad. Being seen is rarely about physical beauty. Being seen is never about being buff or thin.

Despite the Venus and Mars psychobabble, we are both, women and men, from the same lonely planet. We are not, in truth, the hunters and the hunted; we are all just sweet, big-eyed animals looking for someone to love and be loved by. …We all need connection that fortifies us, that makes us feel that we belong somewhere with someone, that we are more beautiful and important than we ever imagined. …We have been duped into thinking that love is a logical extension of animal attraction, when really it is more closely related to friendship.


Both men and women are trapped in this maze of self-scrutiny, weight or shape preoccupation, preening and primping, searching and spending. But love doesn't dwell at the end of this maze, even if you do find your way through. Love can't be won like the lottery or hunted down like an animal. Love is much more elusive and complex. In fact, it is not something outside of us, waiting for us to find it. It is already inside, something's taking long, languid naps, something's watching, all the time waiting to be woken up by a resonant voice. There is no one-size-fits-all beauty, no perfect girl, no ideal guy. There is only a fit, plain and simple and miraculous.

If you live fat in your head, then you are. If you believe you are unattractive, you will experience the world as an unattractive woman. If you hound yourself about everything you put in your mouth, you won't enjoy eating. Regardless of the number on the scale, if the number inside your head is large, insurmountable and loaded with meaning then you will feel weighted down by its implications.

Turns out, none of us is special. Yeah, yeah, we are all as unique as beautiful snowflakes. Each of us has a distinct blend of gifts to give the world But when it is 9:00pm and your boss still hasn't' given you the fax he so desperately needs you to send before you leave (and God forbid he learn to use the fax machine himself), you feel a few meltdowns short of a beautiful snowflake. You feel like a what's-her-name. You feel, for all intents and purposes, invisible.



"Sometimes there is so much disparity between what young women are told to expect and what actually happens that they get disillusioned. They ones who blame themselves tend to get depressed. If they aren't good at managing their tough feelings, sometimes they get stuck exercising massive amounts of control in order just to keep going or worst-case scenario, they back off from the ladder altogether and give up the climb. It is all much worse if they grew up seeing themselves as special or precious." –Robin Stern, psychologist and feminist author.

When you turn twenty-five and you look up from the toilet bowl or the keyboard or the steering wheel and you realize that there is nothing where there should be something at the center of your life at the center of your body at the center of your soul, what do you do? When you realize that the hunger you feel is for something much larger, much more substantial than a paycheck or a flat stomach or a cute boyfriend, where do you look for spiritual sustenance?

We, the perfect girls, have been on our own version of a pilgrimage—going many miles and denying the most basic of our needs in the futile hope that lal this will lead us to some kind of salvation. When we are thin, we have reasoned, we ill be godlike and no longer need the reassurance of a higher power. We will possess a power within ourselves potent enough to get us loved and promoted and recognized. We have sought perfect gods and we have come up empty handed. We have learned that, no matter how much we deprive ourselves, our bodies refuse to become holy. They are fleshy, curved, bleeding messes, made in an ancient form—certainly divine but not devoid of discomfort. We have learned that, no matter how much we control our appetites, a hunger remains at our cores. It won't be satiated by food or the swollen pride that results from refusing it. It certainly won't be satiated by perfection. As Anna Quindlen predicted, those of us who have tried to be perfect all of our lives will face a moment when we discover not an impeccably ordered soul within, but a black whole. Only wonder will fill you and satiate your spiritual hunger—wonder at your little life, wonder at the struggle, wonder at minute and overlooked beauty. There is no secret path in the sky, there is only the very human work of slugging on the ground. It is at once mundane and miraculous, at once daily and divine. You will fail to bypass the nitty gritty choices of life. Inevitably. You will fail to live life completely in your head. Inevitably. You will fail to lose weight, keep it off, stick to a diet. Inevitably. You will fail to deny your hungers, cravings and desires. Inevitably. You will fail to be a perfect girl. Inevitably. Ultimately you cannot organize a soul or a life. You cannot achieve well-being. You can only move toward wellness and peace of mind and happiness with a humble, transparent intention. You can only admit your smallness in a large and overwhelming world, and then be surprised by the power of that smallness. You can only see your body for what it is—a miracle of coordination, curves, resiliency, a partner in your life's journey.

Perfection and thinness are not your most potent sources of authentic power; your potential is. We dwell in the most powerful of places, a place reserved expressly for those who are young and naïve: a land of nothing to lose.
Our obsession with weight is not simply pathology; it is a message about our anxiety and ambition. We are poised to change the world forever—we are that powerful. The preoccupation with food and fitness itself is disempowering but not a waste. Settling for that preoccupation most certainly would be. Accepting self-hatred as an inevitable part of being a woman would be tragic.

It takes tremendous will and determination to fight your natural cravings, each and every day. It takes finely tuned control to resist the excess all around you. It also takes profound depth of emotion to buckle under this pressure, to eat until you are bloated with the evidence of your own fragility. And revolting as it is, it takes real, physical strength and strategy where you can rid yourself of this fragility. If you harnessed just a fraction of this will, determination, control, emotional depth, strength and strategy to get better, to take care of yourself, to resist the culture's monotonous messaging, imagine how powerful you could be.

Our teacher will be our struggle. The wisdom we will gain from having been sick, to one degree or another, and gotten better will be more powerful than never having suffered. The therapist James Hillman writes, "Psychology regards all symptoms to be expressing the right thing in the wrong way." We hunger because we are hungry for the world. We starve because we are overwhelmed by this hunger. We binge because we want love and recognition and peace. We purge because we are ashamed that we don't know how it get it in the right way. We run because we are eager. We chase perfection because we are idealistic. We obsess because we are determined. We will heal because we are too young and too strong not to.

We must raise our consciousnesses through raw conversation. We must talk about how bad it really is in order to get better. We must admit we are not invincible. WE must ask brave questions so we can learn about our family histories and our genetic risks. We must face these and ourselves with brutal truth and fierce optimism.

perspective.

sometimes that from our perspective, it must seem like some truly awful things happen in time and space.

we live in a world of illusions. a world that springs from a much deeper and far greater reality. and while at times the illusions are indeed ugly, with our physical senses we only see the tip of the iceberg. If we could see the whole, we'd discover that the unpleasantness was only the tiniest piece of a most spectacular puzzle that was created with order, intelligence, and absolute love. we'd see that contrary to appearances, in the grandest scheme of things, nothing is ever lost, no one becomes less, and setbacks are always temporary. and we'd understand that no matter what has happened, everyone lives again, everyone laughs again, and everyone loves again, even more richly than before.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

sunday nights.

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Sometimes, when you're feeling your lowest, the real you is summoned.

And you understand, maybe for the first time ever, how grand you are, because you discover that vulnerable doesn't mean powerless, scared doesn't mean lacking in beauty, and uncertainty doesn't mean that you're lost.

These realizations alone will set you on a journey that will take you far beyond what you used to think of as extraordinary.

There is always a bright side.

oh, san diego drivers...

...you slay me! even the smallest amount of sprinkling and the highways turn into a school zone. why, oh why are we driving 50??

i understand that as san diegans, we're quite spoiled and i sympathize with you. but your track record for absurd driving with even the slightest amount of rain is unforgivable!

Friday, December 12, 2008

next semester

i am going to have the most insane schedule next semester.

21 units including two honors classes.

yikes.




at least i'll only have three nights of work instead of five!
i am definitely, deeefinitely going to appreciate my five weeks of winter vacation!

Monday, December 8, 2008

you know you're a douchebag when...

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...you, in your giant enlarged head, think you deserve not one, but two parking spots. note that this is especially douchey when your car isn't even especially valuable.

so thank you, man at subway who made me park and then use the crosswalk to get my sandwich, thank you. i'm sure your '99 cherokee is sitting safely in your driveway right now and you're damn proud of it.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

to do before this semester ends aka two weeks:

-scrapbook i should have been working on for nine weeks (approx. 10-15 pages)
-sociology project (approx. 5 pages)
-chapter twelve extra credit (approx. 2 pages)
-revise english paper #1 (approx. 5 pages)
-revise english paper #2 (approx. 5 pages)
-do all missing homework in journal (approx. 4 pages)
-graded summary (approx. 2 pages)
-do research presentation via powerpoint
-do research paper on russia & it's environmental issues (approx. 10-11 pages)
-memorize monologue
-do production booklet for performance (approx. 7 pages)
-study for last astronomy test



oh. shit.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

tonight is one of those nights.

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sometimes you just need someone to show up at your door with hot chocolate in hand. they'd say you look beautiful, even though your eyes are red and puffy, then you'd fall asleep in their lap as they play with your hair.

but sometimes what you need is what you can't have.

Sunday, November 30, 2008

this fucking sucks.

andrew and jordan have left san diego and are going back to school.

brittany is leaving for l.a. on monday.

.....this is seriously ridiculous.

Friday, November 28, 2008

titty whhaaaat?

so, i was playing scattergories last night with myself, chris, brittany, andrew and matt.

for those of you that have never played scattergories it goes like this:
everyone is playing on the same "list." on these lists are "categories," i.e. "things you're afraid of." then the group rolls a letter, let's say we roll a....S. so, you'd write down "snake" under things you're afraid of. everyone tries to come up with a unique answer because if you get the same answer as someone you don't get the point for it.



so, we were playing and it was pretty damn hardxcore as it always is - there was lots of yelling and defending and andrew's straight lying about making things up :]!

well we moved on to a new list and one of the categories was "bad habits" and the letter was "t." one person put teasing and i'm sure otheres found equally creative, yet appropriate answers to this question. then andrew says quite matter-of-factly: "titty fucking" to which i screech "me toooo!!!!" we laughed for three straight minutes and i had tears running down my face and could barely breathe from the laughter.


you see, this, this is why it's better to have interesting friends that are a little strange than boring ones.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

po-po!

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chris and i witnessed the most bizarre occurence of events today. we were sitting patiently waiting for the shuttle to come and bring us to our cars. typically around this time there are a heavy flow of people jay-walking across the one way road. well, today there was a policeman there. he called out to a large group of people: "use the crosswalk!" most people pretended to not hear him and continued on their path across the middle of the road. however, one young man, let's call him joe, decided that this police officer and his singular, fairly polite remark was just too much for him to keep silent. instead, he thought a rude, pushy comment would best suit the situation. after all, most of the times pedestrians go head-to-head with cops they out on top, right? joe was short and thin; he had a forgettable face and wore baggy clothes that did not contemplate his slender frame whatsoever. so, as the officer was giving him a brief reprimand in the form of a few stern words, joe burst out, "what law did i break?" and then repeated ever louder "what-law-did-i-break?" this time with lots of spaces and gaps in hopes his point would really drive home. the two embarked in a 'one-up' dance, trying to sweep the other off their feet with a slimy mixture of aggression, logic and intimidation.

then joe's rather large and meaty friend, let's call him fred, got himself involved in this verbal brawl, the officer called for back-up. not one, but two more cop cars came and before you knew it, the scene had acquired an audience. the young crowd was rooting for joe and fred, of course, because as young people we're required to say "fuck the police" at least once in our youth. soon enough, the shuttle arrived, leaving the fiasco to get smaller and smaller behind us as we drove to the sanctity of our cars.

now, sitting in a soft leather chair in the library at school, with a handy swivel desk, i can't help but believe joe deserves 100% of the blame. yeah, maybe three cop cars were a little over kill for a verbal tango, but why couldn't he have just walked on by like everyone else, why couldn't he just laugh off the policeman trying to stop large crowds of students from jaywalking.

sorry, joe, i'd like to be on your side and full of teenage angst, but i can't, joe. i just can't.

Monday, November 17, 2008

nudity, masturbation and double standards.

i'll always remember one particular instance about two years ago when i went ice blocking with myself, michelle, chris, nick, spencer b. and fernando.

PAUSE.

for those of you that don't know, ice blocking is when you take a block of ice like so:

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and slide down a big hill while sitting on it like so:

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UNPAUSE.

i've gone a good handful of times and this will always be the most eventful.

almost immediately after arriving, the boys thought it would be a fun and awesome idea to ice block naked. so, nick, spencer and fernando strip down in record time and proceed to walk around freeballin' it for quite some time. michelle and i contemplated this for a while and it sure did seem awfully fun and carefree and a good way to end the night.

however - being females amidst four boys, there are obvious reasons this is not a good idea. first, there are naked boys there and boobs + naked boys =...well, i don't think i need to spell it out. so, besides the apparent opportunities for embarrassment, there are all of the crazy versions of the story that'll show up at school the next day. you know, first we were naked JUST like all of the boys, then all of a sudden we were involved in a crazy orgy all over the park. thankfully, we did end up ditching the boys and streaking in the sprinklers a wee bit later and it was fabulously fun and i will never, ever forget it!

ever since then, michelle and i have said we should go naked ice blocking with just a group of girls, but i have never met a single girl that has said she'd be up for it. everyone i've talked to just thinks the whole idea is preposterous and is worried to death about what everyone would hear or think. that is completely and totally 100% valid. but that fucking sucks in my opinion. why is male nudity simply funny or just a joke, but female nudity is automatically slutty and distasteful? not to mention the tendencies we have to write off a woman's morals because of one revealing piece of clothing or a passed along rumor.

everyone is always preaching about women loving and appreciating their bodies, but every time any famous actress decides to do a nude scene in a movie, there's five stories about her losing her standards. riiidiculous.


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i was talking to a friend of mine who had been in a relationship for quite some time, and i made a joke about sharing a shower with her boyfriend. "oh, nooo, no, i would never do that!" "why not?" "because! i would never just stand there naked where he could see me, i would feel horrible!" "but.....you have sex with him....??" "yeah, but i would never want him to see me completely naked like that." i was in complete shock. my first reaction, of course, was to feel quite sorry, because sharing a shower with your lover is something i hope everyone gets to experience many times in their lives. then i thought, here was a functional and healthy relationship and she doesn't feel secure enough to be naked in front of him? that is horrible! women should realize how beautiful their bodies are no matter what the size, weight, color or shape!

one day, michelle and i will get a group of body-loving, adventure-seeking women to have a great time ice blocking with :]!

and hey, maybe one day ladies will feel the same freedom the fellas do showing their body!

another insanely double standard: masturbation. females are quick to cower away from admitting this, as if it will make them strange or wrong or who knows what. i will admit, however, that i don't think i first tried masturbating until i was seventeen and i hadn't done it more than five times until i was eighteen. while it may not fit into my typical daily schedule or often my weekly schedule, even, i don't find it shameful or problematic to admit. hey! i even did it twice today! i suppose this is just another one of those crazy taboo tasks you're not supposed to admit to if you're a woman. i think one of the reasons people would try to hide from this is because when men think of women masturbating they think of the cheesy and ridiculous porn that is completely unrealistic and silly. sorry to ruin your fantasies that that's how it really all goes down, but....keep dreaming boys, keep dreaming.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

i do not like you, mrs. "green"

i do not like you, mrs. green
i do not like you cause you're mean
i do not like you in section nine
i do not like it when you whine
i do not like the things you say
i do not like you in my day
i do not like you and your routine
i do not like you wearing green
i do not like you on my chair
i do not like it when you stare
i do not like it when you're rude
i do not like giving you food
i do not like your screachy voice
i do not like hearing your choice
i do not like when you chose lamb
i do not like you one bit or gram
i do not like your ugly clothes
i do not like your highs and lows
i do not like getting your walker
i do not like when you're a talker
i do not like you with your friends
i do not like even your glasses' lens
i do not like your silly hair
i do not like you, i must declare!

Saturday, November 15, 2008

what happens at a minus the bear concert stays at a minus the bear concert...

...unless one of the concert attendees has a blog, of course.

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first i must, must, must address all of the nonsensical things concert goers yell out loud. the first instance this happens is when they're doing a sound check, so the musician yells into the microphone, "check!, check!, hey!, hey!, hey!" now, most just glaze over this portion of the concert experience and talk to their friends or check out the bassist. but for approximately fifteen attendees a wonderful and witty thought pops into their heads!

-- i know! i know! i'll yell 'HEY!' back to him, even though he's not really saying hey, he's just doing a sound check! -- so then of course you hear said fifteen people yell "HEY!" back to him and glance around to see if anyone is laughing at their original and creative wisecrack. what makes me this most pitiful is knowing that they think they are sooOoOOOO cool right now, because the group of people surrounding them are laughing...just laughing at them.

then of course there are the handful of douchebags who yell constantly, in hopes that at least one of their zingers are mildly amusing. we had one of those behind us last night. so, to all of those people, please remember, that while you may love hearing the sound of your voice, the rest of us do not. in fact, we rather detest it.


one of my least favorite sliver's of concert life is the smell. at this show in particular they decided to mask the smell with incense. i cannot begin to go into why this is a bad idea. it made the air thick and musky and just unbearable to begin with. then, as the first band came and left the oh so lovely smell of sweaty ball sack seeped into my nostrils. this was partly because of the overall plentiful squished amount of bodies in a small area, and also our proximity to the "moshpit." plus, everyone thought it was would be sooOOooOo cool if they smoked weed while at the concert. getting high beforehand, apparently, wasn't cool enough for their sheer amount of cool. the moronic mindset really shined when we saw two dipshits lighting up a joint IN THE MIDDLE of the "moshpit."

it is a "moshpit" instead of a moshpit, because it was, quite frankly, a joke. it really just entailed about four individuals who thought it'd be fun to run into each other and then convinced other inexperienced moshpit-ers to join in.


this is not to say that it wasn't a blast! it truly was. chris and i went after i got off work a bit early and met up with three coworkers: liz, matt and donovan. it was strange seeing them outside of their la vida uniforms, i must say! all three of them plus chris were fabulous company to a wonderful band. minus the bear was amaaazzzzing! they played two of my favorites, absinthe party at the fly honey warehouse and the fix, during their encore. i am so glad i went and i will definitely see them again next time they're in san diego. they have always been one of my favorite bands, but damn, i was impressed.

Friday, November 14, 2008

this officially makes me the luckiest girl in the world.

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i'm vaguely considering getting rid of the red in my hair and going back to brown like the good 'ol days. this, of course, is of no interest to you whatsoever, but i felt this self-absorbed need to share it with you.

chris spent the night on the ground next to my bed last night: that's the only way he's allowed to spend the night is if he's on the ground. so, this morning i woke up around nine thirty and chris was still sleeping. then at ten forty in the a.m. chris woke me up and said to get up and i was still very, very sleepy. then i finally sat up and he had chocolate chip pancakes waiting :]! this is a typical amy and chris breakfast, but never in such a sweet way! we're still trying to come up with a good trip idea for our two year anniversary.

in other exciting life of amy news after work today i'm going to see minus the bear!! i am so unbelievably excited about it. i can only imagine how lovely they'll be live. i wouldn't have even known about the show until a coworker, matt, randomly brought it up. the aforementioned matt and liz, another super swell coworker with a good taste in music, will be there, as well.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

how is it possible?

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i don't understand why people get into shitty relationships so often.

you know the ones where you hear ___ and ___ are going out and you think "what the fuck...why would ___ ever go out with ___?" sometimes they just don't seem to be a good match, or sometimes one person is just...so...not dateable. i am thoroughly shocked at how many times this seems to occur among friends and acquaintances.

and what is even more odd is when you'll check their myspace or facebook after two weeks and they write about how they've "never been more in looOOoOOove!" yet every time you see them together they're already bickering enough to challenge bitter divorced couples.

do they honestly believe it's going to work out? when they're considering this possible match and they know for a fact that this potential mate is an asshole whom has angry ex-girlfriends galore...are they just hoping things work out for the best? or the whole argument that "well, they're different when they're around me." who would want a significant other like that, despite how they treat you when you're alone with them.

i'm just dumbfounded when all of my friends who are intelligent and bright people get into such ridiculous relationships.

friends, i beg you, don't date assholes with histories; don't date bitches because you think they'll put out; don't date dumbies just because they humor you with their lack of knowledge; and please, please, pleeaasseeee, don't date republicans.

;)!

'08 don't hate!

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everyone used to scream that at dances or football games last year..."oh eight don't hate!" i hated it. it seems silly to be proud of your parents timing of procreation.

the amount of obama-ness to circulate the web is exponential. it does provide an excellent source of entertainment, however.

ANYWAYS - i had no school or work today and it was amazing. i have pictures, but i'm still debating whether i want this to be an all pictures inclusive blog. decisions, decisions.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

survival of the fittest.














the word fittest doesn't seem right, but it is. is it sad that this made me laugh at loud for at least two minutes straight? and if you're sitting here, thinking "i sure wish there was more sperm humor!" then just you wait until tomorrow and you'll be getting more! it is one of my many firm beliefs that you can never have enough sperm humor.

Monday, November 10, 2008

proposition 8.

before i get on to my paper on prop 8 i would just like to say...

...chris is currently in the living room playing piano pretty damn amazingly and i can think of few things in life that are sexier than that. because, well....that's just damn sexy right there.

and just so you're warned i wrote this in an extremely short amount of time so it's not my best work :-X!

Land of the Free...ish

On November 4th, 2008, California, Arizona and Florida decided it was in their best interest to constitutionally ban the rights for same-sex couples to marry. While this was a surprise to many, it forces all Americans to ask how much progress we’ve truly made in redefining a traditional view of marriage that is patriarchal, oppressive, narrow and discriminative. Perhaps for a heterosexual couple with two children and a stay at home mother, this view fits them just fine, however, traditional marriage leaves out a large portion of Americans who simply don’t fit this paper thin description. In particular, same-sex couples have fought a tremendously uphill battle to gain equal rights as heterosexual couples, and through their struggle America’s dependence on customary beliefs is revealed. Whether the religious majority is exercising their strength in numbers or traditions of children and a male dominated relationship are being threatened, same-sex marriages have a huge effect on this generation and how this country will move forward. While this election may technically be over, it does not mean it’s the end of one group’s struggle to gain equality and freedom.

When looking at marriage, heterosexuality is an automatic assumption. But as of November 4th, it couldn’t be more clear: the majority of Americans feel marriage should be, not only in their personal opinions, but in the law, kept between a man and a woman. It is no secret that most of those with this belief consider themselves religious or conservative. What’s also not a secret is the first amendment, which states that laws should not favor any religion. So why, despite this, did Americans feel so passionately as to ban marriage of same-sex couples? They do so in fear that liberal elitists and homosexual radicals will start to challenge their stomping ground which they’ve held for so many years: and by stomping ground I mean Washington, big business and political power. If homosexuality began to creep in on such a long withstanding marriage tradition, that means religion may be losing its control over American morals – morals that insist it’s okay to work on Sundays if it’ll keep your stocks up on Monday morning, and it’s okay to covet your neighbors iPod if it means you’ll go buy one next week. After all, the Ten Commandments were never as important as gay marriage to God, anyways. On top of this threat is the religious majority’s realization that traditional Christians won’t be in the majority forever. Catherine Newman states in her essay ‘I Do. Not.’ that “the Religious Right and their Defense of Marriage Act use marriage as a vehicle for homophobic legislation.” Because if the religious and the conservatives don’t join together now to use their majority status to pass laws, they might not ever have that chance again.

Another aspect of same-sex marriage that challenges traditional ideals is whom an onlooker would look to to be the head of household. Everyone knows that the man earns the main income and therefore maintains the power. And even with a generation used to women working, “only a third of married mothers with children under six were working full-time year-round” (Warner 337). What, then, will Americans do when they don’t have their life roles already cut out for them? With homosexuality flourishing, it creates gaps in power. Instead of every man being in charge of his household, same-sex couples complicate things by encouraging women to step into leadership roles themselves, and at times, for men to step down from these roles. This consequence of same-sex relationships may not challenge the religious majority, but it does challenge men’s presumed power roles in modern society.

One common justification for being in favor of banning same-sex marriage is the fact that two males and two females cannot procreate. This basic assumption goes back many years and children and marriage have always gone together like bread and butter – this stands true for heterosexual couples, as well. Religion has a lot to do with this association, with many Catholic followers even choosing to not use any form of birth control. Where, then, are infertile couples, or couples that chose to not have children? Many of these couples feel similar discrimination. However, since the government would never turn down a heterosexual couple down for adoption simply because they physically can’t produce children, it is similarly not sensible to turn down a same-sex couple for adoption because of physical limitations. In Arkansas this November, same-sex couples are banned from adopting children. Voters in favor of this proposition justify their vote by claiming they’re doing it for the children: that they are worried about the problems the children will have when they grow up. This is an example of voters passing the buck, so that instead of facing the real problem, they can fix a shallow one. It is not homosexuality that gives children problems growing up; it is other children who give them problems. And it’s from their parents, many of who probably voted in favor of this proposition, that they learned this disdain for differences. These types of propositions passing this election are moving along a long and vicious cycle that has been fighting strong since the beginning.

One negative side effect of a majority group is that it puts a lot of pressure on others. After all, to be in the majority, one would need to act and believe as they do as well. And while this effect will be present no matter whom the majority is at the time, it had an interesting effect on California’s Prop 8 exit polls. As soon as the polls closed exit polls showed that Prop 8 would not pass by 4 points. What no one expected, however, was for such a large portion of voters to give false information to exit pollers. It must be asked why voters would feel the need to lie to a live person, but still check yes on 8 in the booth. Many believe this is a voter’s guilt. But if the truly believed it was morally correct to ban gay marriage, it seems only logical the exit polls would have been more accurate. There was a similar fear in Obama’s campaign that white voters would experience the “Bradley effect” in the booth, but they would lie about it to someone taking a poll or survey. It seems that Obama turned out just fine, but there’s a new discrimination revolution to worry about.

Although all of these conflicts and outcome and effects that same-sex marriage has on our traditional view of marriage, I think there is one underlying cause rooted deep within its opponents and voter base. The religious majority want same-sex marriage banned because if the law instigates that its wrong or ruins the holiness of marriage if a homosexual couple marries, then all of their years of discrimination is instantly justified, all within hours of polls closing. Then, when they’re discretely installing lessons of inequality into their children and the next generation, it is no longer prejudice and it is no longer a judgmental attitude, it’s just the law. With prop 8 passing, it is teaching the minority groups to give up all hope of making a difference, because numbers are all that matters to the law.

If prop 8 had not passed it would have taught a completely new moral to Americans: it would have taught us that we are a country of individuals with a wide range of beliefs, it would have taught us that our government will follow through with its promise that all men are created equal and shall be treated as such under the law, and it would have taught us that we’ve learned from our mistakes through our country’s long history of inequality. Instead, what I have learned these last few days is that America is not ready to give up its customary beliefs. The powerful are not ready to give up their power, either, and so, those of us whose hopes for this country are that it moves forward with time must wait a little longer. Gender, sexuality and marriage are values that have long been a part of people and their beliefs. Therefore, while it may seem obvious to some that treating someone different for their sexuality is wrong, it’s a lesson that apparently must be learned the hard way.

California, Arizona and Florida passing propositions to ban gay marriage will be a landmark in history. Those of the voters which voted against it can only hope that it will be remembered as starting the revolution of change, of waking up a sleeping generation and as a sad piece of America’s history. While most will associate this election with the historic new presidential choice, Americans will make sure our voices are heard: we will not sit on the sidelines while the majority controls most aspects of our lives, we will not allow discrimination to ring from ear to ear when there is a group of Americans that deserve equal rights and we will not silence our message just because we lost one fight.





THE END.



note: if you want to leave a tasteful difference of opinion, that's cool; if you just want to be an asshole that's not.




p.s. remember kids, gang rape is okay AS LONG as the majority of the people in the room vote in favor of it.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

what a marion salad means to me.

there are few differences between a "garden greens" and a "marion salad." they are essentially synonymous: except that the garden greens are already prepared, while the marion salad i have to create myself.

so, maybe when you're ordering your salad, you don't know or think of this. but when it all comes down to it, while i'll admit marion salads look a lot more scrumptious, a little extra lettuce and beets for you just don't mean that much to me. i would rather you get 1/4 less salad than me spend 3x my time. sorry, elderly folks who pay oh so very much to live here, i am truly sorry.

then again, most of you don't know how to properly say thank you, so maybe i'm not all that sorry.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

why 64mph and leftmost lane on the freeway should never be in the same sentence.

now, when you are a driver you obey some basic assumed rules.

some of them are obeyed by (practically) everyone: when there's a red light, you stop; when someone puts their turn signal on, they're going to move into the next lane; etc., etc.

so why is it that the whole idea of lanes on the freeway increasing in speed as you increase in leftward direction is so impossible for certain drivers?

the situation: i'm late for work and there's a decent amount of cars on the road, but nothing worthy of the term "traffic." there are four lanes on the freeway. so when i signal myself on over to the leftmost lane, i would expect to be driving at least a steady 75mph. so tell me why i found myself driving 62-64 for at least 5 miles. now that, my friends, that is why each lane should have their own speed limit. to stop those who don't respect basic driving assumptions and instead make up their own rules. a policeman would pull over someone for running a red light, so why can't they at least receive a slap on the wrist for making my few remaining minutes before 3:45 pass so slowly at this laughable speed.

ooh, tartar sauce.

friday nights at work aren't that bad. in fact, i'd go as far as to say they're pretty swell.


except that tonight i needed to attend some silly musical at school which we needed to be at by 7:45 and it takes 30 minutes to get there. well, i normally get my tables reset and ready for another round of robot servers the next morning rather quickly, so this is not a problem.

however, when "residents" decide they want every possible side, dressing, drink and extra they could imagine at random intervals in their meal, it does create quite a strain. and this, now this is what gets me:

Her: "Would you mind getting me extra tartar sauce? No rush, just whenever you have the time!"
Me: "Sure, no problem!"
Read: No, I don't mind. In fact I loooove getting you extra tartar sauce, especially since this will be your third serving of it.
Now, when you go and say something like "no rush," one would assume they are under....no rush. (Silly how those assumptions go, isn't it?) So when this happens after approximately two and a half minutes, after I've only cleared away a 2 seater, you can imagine my shock when she says this:
Her: "Uuuuhhhmmm (drawn out to make her seem polite and un-bitchy) I'm pretty sure I asked you for some extra tartar sauce....sooooo (this time it must be drawn out for purposeful bitchiness) if you could bring that, kay thanks."
Me: "Of course."
Read: Yes, let me bring you that tartar sauce; I hope you can taste my disdain for your overall existence while eating your catch of the day.

Later in the evening, I made sure to give her an extra small piece of pie. This may not seem like much, but I'll take my victories where I can.

I've found that is the only way for me to maintain my glued on fake smile: small victories wherever I can find them.

i need a blog for the boring aspects of life.

okay, that is not true.

i already have a livejournal blog for the semi-boring aspects of life.
then i have my myspace blog for blogs that i consider successful enough in livejournal to transfer to myspace.
then i have my other livejournal blog for whatever cannot be muttered out loud to others.


so, maybe i don't need another blog.

but i cannot bear to go on and on about work and its woes and wonders, or class and its silliness and franticness. no, no, that's what this will be for. and while there may be virtually zero readers, all that one can hope for is reading material for a hopeless blogger up into the early morning hours with nothing to read or do....until they stumble here.