Is the there, there?

I am getting quite tired of Junior Sem.  Actually, that's an understatement. I feel like puking all over Junior Seminar then taking a shit on it. Really. I was pretty enthusiastic about the class at the beginning of the semester despite being loathe to take it since in combination with my thesis I knew it would just be too much. But I decided to make the best of it and participated in class, did all the readings, and was pretty actively engaged. I actually got more out of the class this semester than I did last year - partly because I enjoy literature more than poetry, but also because, like I've always said, I'm a completely different person after study abroad and this different person I believe is more appreciative of literature, more intelligent, and thus more capable of being in a class such as J-Sem. But fuck it. Now I'm tired. It' s the same thing every day! Deconstruct this, blur the boundaries of that, open up the narrative, question the reader's role. Is the there, there? WELL YES IT IS. BECAUSE IF IT WASN'T THERE, IT WOULD BE ELSEWHERE AND WE WOULD PROBABLY CALL IT HERE. Do I actually care how many versions of Ulysses there were? Well gee you never asked me but now that I'm asking myself I think I realize that I don't care.  How does the narrator interact with the reader. HELL IF I KNOW BECAUSE THE NARRATOR DOESN'T ACTUALLY EXIST! I refuse to sustain a conversation any longer about how a non-real narrator influences the reader he never interacts with. SUCK IT NARRATOR.   Oh and let's not get started on "absence." Because then we open a whole other world of meaning and interpretation. Lalalalalalalalala I'm done with J-Sem. 

Hello, again

I found another reason to add to the list of why I shouldn't have babies: I wouldn't be able to drink for nine months, which would be absolutely TERRIBLE. I'd be in pain every day and wouldn't even be able to drown my sorrows in some Belgian beer. I was thinking about this last night as I was drinking a Thunderhead IPA, which was delicious. I am getting a little weary of IPAs though. I need to buy more amber ales. Yum.

More substantial update to come later. Some topics to look forward to: what I'm doing with my life (woooo!), pictures (and lots of them!), and uhm wait I think that's all. Oh, how sad. Maybe this is why I've been neglecting my blog because I don't want to face the reality of NOTHING INTERESTING TO TALK ABOUT. Just kidding. My life is great. Seriously, it is.

Babies? No thanks

I haven't blogged in awhile since for the last month I was at home and busy sitting in my blanket and bathrobe, shuffling around my house, drinking tea. I have a demanding schedule what can I say. And let's be honest; I really only blog when I'm procrastinating. Or when I have such fascinating ideas and pressing thoughts that the only way to free myself of those bonds is to sit in front of a little screen and type furiously. But how often does that actually happen? I think I just like to tell stories. And I like to know that people pay attention to me. Yes, I love attention; don't judge me because you know you love it too. We all do. Just because I like my attention dancing on a table doesn't make me any more attention needy than you. Perhaps you like yours in the form of a stimulating conversation with you as the center of know. It's really all the same.

But for the sake of keeping this alive and for my own self-indulgent purposes, I'm going to address a topic which I get asked about a lot: babies/kids. I know right, and I'm only 21. Well I don't want to blame this on everyone; these conversations usually start when someone sees a baby and says "awwww how cute." And I'm standing there with a finger down my throat because I don't like babies and I find them hideous. I don't plan on having my own babies; I told Tim he could bang one of my friends if he wanted kids. He might have to get them wasted first because I don't know if any of my friends actually want to bang my boyfriend but things could look up in the future. Anyways, babies are needy, they cry, they shit, and they're not cute to compensate. I do like kids though because I can interact with them and they talk back to me. And if they're snarky I can just slap them - or some verbal equivalent that's not so abusive.

It is quite funny though that people are always shocked when I tell them I don't want kids. It's so expected that all females want their own babies, and then I come along with my selflessness and concern for the world's overpopulation problems and people flip their shit and think something's wrong with me. Ok so I'm not that selfless because part of the reason I dont want my own babies is because I don't want my boobs to sag, which they will eventually but I'll delay it by decades if I don't have kids.

We were actually talking about this in philosophy class last semester - having kids that is, not saggy boobs. Everywhere you turn, everyone/thing tells you that your life won't be fulfilling if you don't have kids. Take the movie Four Christmases, where this couple (Reese Witherspoon and Vince Vaughn) has a great life but no kids. They're happy, they have money, they go places, but they're not married and have no offspring. And then they go visit their family who's like poor, living in a rundown place, but aw look they have kids and they're life is fulfilled and happy because of those kids. So what this heteronormative movie says is (yes I said heteronormative, whatever, I go to a liberal arts college what do you expect) you can have the career, the relationship, the house, the money, basically a bangin life, but if you don't have kids you won't be happy. And of course by the end of the movie the couple decides to get married and have kids. Gush gush aww barf.

I don't think I need kids to make my life fulfilling. I have no desire whatsoever to pass on my genes. Plus honestly kids are SO ungrateful. SO ungrateful. I'm a good kid, and I wouldn't even want myself as a kid. Kids are the best in their like first ten years, but then they hit the teenage years and they're snarky as shit. And then they grow out of that but by that point they've moved on to college and they're not even around anymore. Wtf I gave birth to you, stupid child. They don't remember when you suffered with them for nine months and when you took care of them when they were a wee baby and couldn't fend for themselves and if you didn't feed and change and house them they would've died. But do they remember that when they're 14? No, I didn't. That's life with a kid in a nutshell. Don't judge me.

I probably going to eat my words in ten years right?

Still 15

My dentist told me I look fifteen years old. I hate my life. She then proceeded to prop open my mouth for 45 minutes in order to fill some holes in my teeth.

No, not really

Today I spent two hours in Room E222 having a wonderful conversation with Mr.Perlman (10th grade English teacher). By the time I left it was 5:40pm and the sky was already dark. It was cold outside and I was only wearing a thin jacket, so with my hands shoved into my jean pockets, I hurriedly walked home. I walked past a tall, hefty, Middle-eastern male who despite his looming figure is definitely a high school student. Five seconds after passing him, he turns around and starts talking to me:

Him (in mildly accented English): Do you go to Washington High School?
Me (turning around to face him): No, I don't live here.
Him: Oh you don't go to Washington?
Me: No, I don't live here. (I register that this guy is pretty dense)
He looks fairly harmless, so I slow down, but continue to walk backwards. He catches up.
Him: Really? Because you look like a girl who goes there
I'm thinking, great, I look like an asian teeny bopper. Fantastic. And I thought I outgrew that phase. At this point we're walking side by side, me avoiding his stare.
Me: No, I don't live here.
Him: So are you visiting relatives?
Me: Well I used to live here, but I moved away.
Him: Oh okay. Well I wanted to talk to you cuz you know you have a nice ass.
Me: Oh, uh, well, thanks. (I give a half smile).
Note: When confronted with creepy people hitting on me, I lack any ability to be witty, sarcastic, or rude. Surprising, given my usual temperament.
I walk into the parking lot of the apartment complex to my left. He doesn't follow. I think we're done talking but then...
Him: So uh you wanna do it?
The only thought that enters my head is "wtf!?"
Me: What?
Him: Do you want to come along with me?
Me: No, not really.
I walk away.

This rendition of our brief conversation doesn't really do justice to the awkwardness of the whole affair.

New Year's Resolutions

1) Read the news so I'm not an ignorant retard.
2) Get a job (that I'll like).
3) Write my thesis (well).
4) Exercise so that my heart doesn't give out by the time I'm 25.
5) Eat less bacon. HA who am I kidding I'm not going to do this. I'll just make sure I do number 4 to counterbalance not doing number 5.
6) Read my Bible.
7) Bang some bitches.
8) Kidding about number 7.
9) I was gonna write some shit about being more understanding and loving towards others but that shouldn't really be a resolution; that should be more of a daily self-improvement goal. Plus I don't want to sound like the idealist that everyone already knows I am. I mean why advertise that more.
10) Learn more piano.

Ten is a good number. I'm going to work on my thesis with a side of a bacon now.