I had to clean my room today. It looked like a mix between a frat house and the movie Signs.
Let me explain. I hate doing laundry. I really like folding laundry. But everything else-- separating clothes, putting them away-- kill me now. So, to avoid this menial task, I tend to put off doing laundry for as long as possible. I will buy more underwear and have stocked extra bedsheets for this very reason.
In fact, just last week I thought I had beaten the system after not having done laundry in... well, I shouldn't tell you. But I walked into Wild Wing and told Tonya smugly that I hadn't done laundry because I'd figured a way out. She (slightly disgusted, I'm sure) asked, "how?"
"I unpacked my winter clothes." Oh yes, I'm brilliant.
And even though, every time I do laundry, I end up donating two bags of clothes to GW or NKF, it doesn't matter. It still piles up. So after piling up clothes in my closet, I had to start piling it up on the side of my bed, and in trash bags, and... well, you get the idea. Hence the frat house look. The smell is debatable. (Are you completely not wanting to be my friend anymore? I don't blame you, I am a slob 33% of the time. Luckily for house/roommates, I keep it confined to my personal space.)
The reference to Signs is much simpler, and while you may think it's because the smell might attract aliens and the mess would give them good hiding places, it's really just because I'm obsessed with drinking water. So there are half empty glasses, bottles, mason jars, etc. of water on every flat surface. At least it's not beer bottles. Then it really would be a frat house and would definitely smell like one.
Go to your senator's homepage. Hit "Contact us" or whatever, and type something akin to thi, please:
I am writing to push for you to support the health care reform bill, and to push other Senators in Congress to support the bill as well. I hope that you can utilize this letter as one example of many our your constituents who elected you to the Senate. We believed in your ability to support our causes, but also because we believed that you would stand up for these causes firmly, vocally, and without reprieve.
There are several reasons that I find this bill to be important. First, there needs to be reform for pre-existing conditions. I think we can agree there. But if insurance companies must cover individuals, individuals MUST have health insurance. If your religion (e.g. Christian Science) or your culture (e.g. Amish) prevent you from seeking medical care, fine-- that is a case in which the government has no right to interfere.
But, in cases like mine, a personal mandate is necessary. I'm 22 years old, I just graduated college, I'm working two part-time jobs, and I'm in good health. Without a personal mandate, and knowing that I cannot be denied for a pre-existing condition, I can wait to get health care. Until I am sick, until I am pregnant, etc. Until then, I will go about my life not worrying, because, should there be an emergency of some sort, I must be cared for, even if I don't have health insurance. And the insured will pay for me, a cost reflected in their premiums.
Lastly, I do not think that a public option would kill the private sector. I went to Wellesley College, a private college in Massachusetts, which "competes" with public universities-- the difference between the two is that they offer different things. I wanted smaller classes, high interactions with professors, and a reserved campus. I was also willing to pay for for these private college amenities. These I would not have found had I gone to Boston University, though I have many friends who did attend BU and loved it. The same can be said for school/town sports, the post office/ UPS, and others. The same it will be for the public vs. the private option in health care. What's the phrase? "Different strokes for different folks." The same can and should be offered in health insurance.
Thank you so much for reading this letter. I hope that you will understand my deepest concern for the future of health care, since I will be under its hand for a long time to come. I hope that you will become an advocate for the health care reform bill (I know the ins and outs, and what passing it would mean-- I'm okay with most of the extras tagged on, too, if it means passing the reform).
Sincerely,
Your name here
This is something I did really quickly, but you get the idea. We NEED to pass health care reform. So PLEASE do this. Don't make me email each of you personally. I'll do it. Stupid Lieberman is going to switch to the Republicans side for this? Making the debate filibuster-proof? NOT OKAY.
Maybe I'm having a "don't you talk about my momma/Obama!" moment, but now I'm just getting angry. Because while I'm upset over the lack of "change" going on right now, I can't take it anymore. And since I just wrote about this particular subject to friends, I thought I would share it here.
Okay, I'm doing it:
First of all--in response to criticisms that he received the prize just because he's "not George Bush"-- that's stupid. No one on the list of peace prize laureates is like George Bush.
Moving on. Why the uproar? Has everyone who has received the prize in the past achieved great things by the time they were nominated, even by the time they received the prize? More recently, Al Gore received the peace prize in 2007 (w/ the UN panel) for his work on climate change awareness. Yet two years later, we have yet to see any comprehensive energy reform in the US, much less in the entire world. Hell, we haven't even convinced everyone climate change exists. I don't remember an uproar there-- "But, why Gore? He doesn't deserve it! It's all talk! He hasn't done anything yet!"
How about in 1964, when Martin Luther King, Jr. was awarded the peace prize. By the time of his nomination, the civil rights movement had not yet won the Civil Rights Act, or the Voting Rights Act. Furthermore, did he deserve the prize over the people in Alabama or Mississippi or North Carolina who spearheaded the movement rather than figureheaded it? Let's not forget the efforts of Abernathy, or Robinson (to name a couple). --"But, Dr. King? He just gave a nice speech in Washington. He hasn't really done anything yet! In fact, it's been years and no laws have been passed!"
I don't mean to downplay the achievements of these men or anyone else who has received the prize in the past. But to pretend that this is the first time the award has been given to someone who has not yet achieved the successes for which they aim would be an ill-informed criticism. And it's not like he nominated or chose himself-- he was just as shocked as anyone else, and said himself that he didn't deserve to be among the other winners.
(What he said: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p7bHkH779qg)
I am just as impatient as everyone else. But when Obama says that this prize is a "call to action," I get happy. Period. Because, I'm sorry, he got elected. No, no--rather, we elected him. Let's not forget that, it's not a passive sentence, we performed the action. And now what? We are just sitting here, waiting to be transformed as a nation. He told us to hold him accountable. How many of us, how many of the people who elected him, are doing that? Are we putting pressure on him to pass health care reform? To pass immigration reform? To pass energy reform? No, but the minority of the nation is pressuring Congress not to, or at least not to pass it in the ways Obama said we'd see it.
On that note-- have we forgotten that Obama doesn't make the laws? He doesn't write them. He doesn't pass them. If we want to see these things happen, and are angry that they haven't happened as quickly as we see fit, we are placing blame in the wrong place. Maybe we should look at our Congressmen and Congress women. Or, to get to the root of the problem, maybe we should look at ourselves. Whose country is this, anyway?
But whatever. It's easier to email/gchat/tweet/facebook message our friends about how he hasn't done anything yet.
If you don't cook, you should. If you do, go vegan. It's a fun challenge. One at which I've utterly failed as of late (Damn you, cheese and yogurt! Damn you, lack of Whole Foods in the south!).
Regardless, I've been enjoying my favorite snack-- sweetriot chocolate bars. Yep, they're expensive. But they're also vegan, and dark chocolate. Oh, and they're pretty friendly to humans and the earth in the process.
On that note, I've realllyyy been wanting to try this recipe. If you can find the ingredients (yeah, south Charlotte sucks) you need to try this out, it's really quick and probably tastes like heaven: vegan chocolate mix.
Lastly, homemade focaccia. If you are one of those freaks who considers yeast and honey and all that stuff non-vegan, then skip over it.
That's all. Oh, and Obama receiving the Nobel Peace Prize? Let's not talk about it. Why? Because there's nothing to talk about. He hasn't actually DONE anything yet, that's true. I agree with progressive.org on this one. Or SNL, incidentally:
I think that it will give him momentum, and he has inspired people around the world. So I'll give him that. And I'd rather him get it now when he is trying to pass these laws and move towards peace, rather than after he got out of office. Hopefully it will only help the causes over which I'm so unnerved (due to inaction). I'll try to be a bit more optimistic. But my cynical side sometimes takes over my pragmatic side when it comes to politics. So if Obama truly takes this as a "call to action," as an expectation rather than an affirmation, I'm happy about it.
Alright, so now that I've been embarrassed by Peyton who, though inspired by me (among others) to create a blog, now updates about 20x as often as I do.
I don't even remember what my last post was about. So let me do a quick update about the things I have going on/am currently interested in:
I'm a research assistant working on analyzing immigrant youth trainings in FL and CO. I'm also going to Boston soon to do some other RA work for my old Wellesley prof. Dreamactivist.org = awesome.
I bought her book (now available in paperback, unfortunately not at B&N) which is about the process by which people become motivated and involved in the politics. I may even be a super dork and ask her to sign it.
Supreme Court ruled that apparently selling videos of dog fights and animal brutality and such is completely protected under the freedom of speech (US v. Stevens, look it up). Scalia says, what about the people who like dogfighting? A NYTimes op-ed says, it's true, we may hate racists but we can't stop Nazis from marching or the KKK from spewing racist remarks. I say, true, but we don't allow them to sell video tapes of the Holocaust or lynching. Because that means they committed a crime in order to make the video, am I right? Mkay. And for money? Ugh. Sick.
Apple, Inc. cancelled membership in the US Chamber of Commerce over their position in environmental policy. Whether you love them or hate them, Apple took a positive stand for the environment, and that makes me happy. Even if they do plan obsolescence. Which is bad for the environment. Their Forbes number was pretty low, too, on the list of "green" businesses. Donahue says the US Chamber supports climate action, but not the Markey-Waxman version. Which is really stupid, because cap-and-trade favors large, multinational businesses who can afford to buy more permits. Duh, did they even read the bill?
In other news, I hate words like "green" and "organic" and "sustainable." So dumb, and no one even really knows what they mean, anyway.
Sen. Boxer (man, I wish I lived in a cool state where my senators DID something) is telling the EPA to do something about the water issue in public schools. Good for her.
This health care stuff has got to go. Two-thirds of Americans support a public option and yet it's been voted down every time in committee. Who do these people in Congress think they work for? Tough call, since we voted them in but the pharmaceuticals pay for it.
Also, what exactly is the problem with an individual mandate?? We tell insurance companies they have to cover us, but then don't mandate that people buy it? What then, would stop me, a healthy 22-year old, from going about my life without health insurance-- using the emergency room if I need to-- and waiting until I get cancer to buy insurance? That would make everyone's premiums go up. How do people not get that? Sometimes I think this country is doomed to fail because of bad logic.
Alright, that's all for now. Yeah, I know, boring. But hey, maybe you learned something. And if you read the comments on other blog posts you can learn something about me. Other than that I'm a political junkie.
Oh, and Amazon dropped the price of their Kindle. Which makes me more financially able to swing such a purchase, and yet I still have mixed feelings about my role in the death of the printed word. Hmm.
OH! I saw Whip It and now I'm obsessed with being a roller derby girl (even though I'm missing it in the QC on Oct. 21st!). What should my name be? Help a girl out!!! (I used three exclamation points, so you know I'm serious.)
Okay, I have really been slacking on the updates. But really I am so happily confused with life right now that I don't feel like processing anything by writing about it.
To compromise, I'm posting a letter/rant I wrote to a friend a month or so ago (before I went to CA). I just thought about some of the things again recently, so I'm just going to plagiarize myself from July. I'm too lazy to correct the grammatical errors, by the way, so get over it. And it's long. But, you don't have to read it. No one's making you. :) Here goes:
"Well hello!!!
Remember that email I was supposed to finish and send a long time ago? Yeah, it's a little irrelevant now. But I just watched Schindler's List for the first time, and it reminded me of that movie you were telling us about in DC, something about pajamas and WWII?
Anyway, I was really taken aback by Schindler's List and I thought I would write a few words here. Because I feel like you'd understand. So first of all, who the HELL out there could possibly believe that the holocaust was a hoax?!? SERIOUSLY. And quite frankly, holocaust really doesn't do those actions justice, so I'm just going to call it genocide/massacre/murder from here on out. When I was watching a movie about the massacres during WWII, I started thinking about two things. The first being when they sing during the Sabbath. I started thinking about books I have read ("Night," for one) when they discuss how many Jews lost faith during the genocide. Not that I blame them. How could a God let something like that happen? Continuously, for such minute reasons? I'm not a religious person or anything, but I respect people skeptically have faith. And while I understand that life experiences affect whether or not someone believes in God (the kind of house they were raised in, religious people they came in contact with, etc.), I do believe that in the end, a person's relationship with God is between God and that person. So if God does exist-- and if s/he/they exist, what kind are they,really?-- it makes me really sad that human actions have turned the most faithful to the most resentful. It's not even that some don't believe in God, just that some refuse to pray to Him because they hate Him for what happened then. I find it completely understandable, don't get me wrong, but it makes me sad to think that the case. The human species sucks. Period. We can fuck anything up.
The second thing I was thinking revolves around the end of the movie. I started crying when (I'm assuming you've seen this movie?) Schindler cries at the end, saying he could have done more, he could have saved one more. One, it's sad that during the horrific depictions of treatment of the Jews, that I didn't cry, yet I did when Schindler did. I like to think that it's because I respond to emotions and not violence, but maybe part of it is that violence has become so "Hollywood" that emotions are the only thing I can connect to at this point. Shoot a man-- who cares? Cry about it-- okay, there's a chance-- but they'd better be a good actor. That is SAD. Anyway. When Schindler starts crying at the end, I have to wonder about how things haunt people. Particularly the feeling that we could have done more. Can we be doing more? Just because I'm not witnessing the atrocities firsthand, I KNOW they exist. What am I doing? Will this haunt me when I finally understand how MY inaction led to the demise of others? Or worse, will it never haunt me, when it should?
On a lighter (not really) but current note, I have to vent quickly about something I woke up to on the radio today. My parents are very conservative, and they blast conservative radio shows all over the house through our intercom (and oh yes, my mom LOVES the O'Reilly Factor). So. I woke up to some guy talking about slavery, saying "it's slavery" over and over. So I wondered to myself, "what is? Am I missing some knowledge of world events?" And do you know what he was talking about? The frickin' HEALTH CARE BILL that's in Congress right now. The healthcare bill that will add around a 1% tax to those making over $350,000. That's how they're going to pay for everyone to get healthcare. And this guy was calling it slavery, because that means that people are working for other people without receiving the money for it. "That's slavery, it's slavery," he said. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? Are you seriously comparing a ONE PERCENT TAX INCREASE ON RICH PEOPLE to SLAVERY?!? He even said something about "that's what they did in the 18th century-- they brought them over on boats and made them work for someone else." THAT'S SLAVERY? Right, right. I am also a slave because I volunteer for Habitat for Humanity. Right? I mean, if that's ALL that slavery is (or, the most IMPORTANT part of slavery), I'm working for someone else and not getting paid. That makes me a slave. Wow. I had no idea my life was so hard. Or rather, what were those crazy slaves complainging about? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? It has nothing to do with suppression of rights, freedom, happiness, identity, respect. Nah, it's all about the MONEY. If we had paid them but still treated them like second-class citizens they wouldn't be slaves, and there would be no problem. Right? Because who cares about anything but money? UGH.
Okay. I think I'm done for now. I just thought of you, and decided I would subject you to my 3am ramblings. I hope you are doing well. Where are you? What are you up to? And what bothers you about the world/hollywood/humans/
yourself/republicans? You know I'm always available for a vent/sarcastic email. Hopefully I'll have something funny to write about soon. I'll let you know. As for me, I'm a graduate still working with replyforall (though barely, based on my hours) and can't find a job. Wahooo. And I'm being extremely lazy about it. But I'm having a summer filled with mountain biking, kayaking, whitewater rafting, and rock climbing. So that's definitely a highlight. :) Write back sooonnnn! (And, question from the first email I wrote you, what happened with the student at Colby? Did anything get resolved? Satisfactorily?)
I've been laid up in bed basically for the last week, and I stopped taking happy pills yesterday (that's what I call my Oxycontin). Which apparently makes the happiness stop.
I just woke up-- quite forcibly-- from a dream I was having. I was in San Francisco (of course) with some of my friends and we had been walking along a city area to then settle down in a park. And there are butterflies in the park.
And they attacked me! In the dream, of course. But they attacked my face in the dream! What could that possibly mean, metaphorically?? Someone help me out... because now I have a certain uneasiness when it comes to butterflies.
Welp, here I am in CA. I actually haven't done that much exploring, but I've had a pretty good time so far. Tanner picked me up from the airport and we drove about 3 hours to Avery where his family has a mountain property. It was absolutely gorgeous. We spent a lot of time talking and drinking (a LOT of drinking) and cooking and hanging out by the lake(s). The last night we moved the mattresses outside and had a bottle of wine and talked and looked at the stars. There were so many of them! I am always amazed with that, and we looked for constellations (which, geez, are so much harder to find when you can see thousands of stars). It was a lot of fun.
And last night, I saw the Counting Crows for the first time in concert. Since I can probably match songs from them to most of my life (I mean, really, they've been around for a while), that was quite a treat. Of course, we get there, and SURPRISE! Backstage passes! I was very impressed, and Tanner-- whether he was trying to or not-- made my trip. He is going to make someone very, very happy one day.
So right now I'm in a cafe in Berkeley, where the guy gave me a free cup of coffee since I didn't have cash. The people who have made me feel incredibly welcome are the ones that I would least expect, and I could see myself living out here for a while. Six years may be a stretch, and the more I leave home, the more I see myself going back to the South.
That said, I kind of wish I wasn't out here for another week. I kind of wish I was going home today. I love spending time with Tanner (and his family is awesome), but I really wish I could transplant him to NC. All of my close friends are pretty spread out, and that makes me incredibly sad.
Oh, and those of you who remember my being weird about other possibilities for the trip, no worries there. It wasn't so much weird as it was "eh," and it kind of makes me wish I'd skipped out on that. If I had one expression, it would be to roll my eyes. I hope y'all can figure that out, because I don't really know what else to say.
And ROBYN. Still haven't seen her. Today I think I'm going to go to a bookstore, get a book, and go to one of the parks in San Francisco. It's amazing how not outgoing I am when I'm in a new place by myself. But there are a few things on my list that I really want to do, so hopefully I won't be too lazy. City Lights is on the list.
Right now I'm just going to throw caution to the wind and maybe meet up with a guy I met Saturday night who said he'd show me around the city. I don't remember him all that well, but maybe I need to meet someone random and have a new good experience.
That's about it for now. I haven't done anything too crazy, so I don't have any good stories. My bad. Now I really need to do replyforall. But that's your update, people. I'll try to be better in the future. Also, read the replyforall blog, please, because there's some interesting stuff I've been reading about, and I think that it would be easier to read it there than having me repost it on this site. Kthanxbye.
I really don't have much of an update other than the one I just wrote. I survived my backpacking trip, and I went mountain biking (don't ask me about it, I won't stop laughing), and flat-water kayaking. Now I kind of don't feel like going to California because I just want to be at home and go whitewater rafting, and kayaking, and rock climbing as much as I want. Screw SF.
No, I really just hate change. I mean, I love change and new things, but not at first. Then I'm going to get comfortable in California and decide I'm going to live there instead of coming home. But maybe not. Maybe I'll have an awful time. Especially if my last post is true.
This is kind of sweet. Whenever I feel like keeping things a secret (except from maybe my friends who can read that) I'll just post like before.
I've decided. I want someone or something to knock me off my feet. Otherwise, it's a waste of time.
"Ralph Waldo Emerson once asked what we would do if the stars only came out once every thousand years. No one would sleep that night, of course. The world would create new religions overnight. We would be ecstatic, delirious, made rapturous by the glory of God. Instead, the stars come out every night and we watch television."
Thanks for the quotation, Robyn. Love it. So true, and so sad.
Ugh. I am such a butthole sometimes. Yesterday I yelled at my mom-- yes, she yelled at me first, but that's really no excuse-- and pushed past her to get up the stairs. We were talking about taking our cars in to be fixed because they've been recalled again. It's starting to freak me out, the number of ways they're discovering that this car could accidentally kill me.
Regardless, I was asking why my mom couldn't pick me up and take me back to my car so I wouldn't have to wait there (since I do most of my work between 10am-2pm and 10pm-2am). And all of a sudden she brings up about how she is paying my rent and my car insurance. So of course I say, um, you're paying my rent? "No, but I've paid your car insurance." Okay, that made me a bit upset. Because 1) I was willing to pay my car insurance but was told that until I was out of school it was fine, and 2) by not paying my car insurance am I now allowing this to be held over my head any single time we disagree? So I yelled something about how it was all about money with her and she could take all the money in my checking account because I want a mother not a banker. And then I wrote her a check.
Then I went outside and called my otter because my heart was pounding and I don't really remember the last time I yelled like that. So then I went and apologized and we talked about what I could do around the house to keep my mom from being stressed.
That's about all. I hate that I'm so ungrateful sometimes. I mean, not that I agree with my mother's actions at all, but that really has nothing to do with my behavior. I know they are trying and that this is hard for everyone. And while I know I don't ever see myself chasing after the dollar, I really wish sometimes that I didn't have to grow up on the "poor bubble," teetering all the time between being just fine and really struggling. I'm sure there is a point to all of it, maybe that I don't think money is all that important. But that doesn't stop me from wishing I had it, just so my parents wouldn't be so stressed all the time.
In other news, fourth of July was good and sad all at the same time. It was Granny's birthday and we went to the cemetery. No one warned me, and the mere thought made me well with tears. But my sister and I made pretty arrangements with her hydrangeas and lilies and roses, put them in mason jars with river stones and water, and set them at Granny and Pop's grave site. And my banana pudding seemed to be a pretty big hit at the cookout. My cousin (who is like, 50. My dad got a late start on having kids compared to his back country relatives) asked me who taught me how to make it, and when I said "Granny," he said "okay then, I'll give it a try." One thing I've realized now is that getting closer to Granny last summer gave me a chance to get closer with that whole side of the family. And they're rednecks, lemme tell you. And pretty hilarious.
Something I've been meaning to write about for a while is the use of torture in interrogations. My dad brought up a YouTube video that he had watched that had a Playboy journalist getting waterboarded. (Since when does Playboy delve into controversial moral issues? But I guess that's a conversation for another time...) I couldn't find that particular video, but there are plenty of demonstrations on the internet with varying techniques. You can go to YouTube and watch them, but here's one done by a Fox News journalist:
This is interesting because it brings up the question of whether or not waterboarding is torture. After all, as Steve Harrigan says, afterwards one is "alive and healthy" within minutes. Granted, he hasn't had it done 183 times, nor was he sleep deprived or interrogated with other "robust" or "enhanced" techniques. He also knew he could stop it any time he wanted. But regardless, it's an interesting question. Here are my questions:
1)What is the difference between drowning and the simulation of drowning? Your body's doing the same thing. So can we agree that even if you're not in a swimming pool, or ocean, or whatever, you can still drown? If they were holding someone's head underwater, wouldn't that be the same thing? This way is just more efficient. It is faster and easily determined when someone is to the breaking point--that is, they will in fact drown if you don't stop. Whether or not it's torture, can we agree that it's drowning?
2)If waterboarding is not torture, then why don't we use it all the time? Think of how many murders we could solve if we just waterboarded all the suspects. Or is it not okay when it's one of our own? We hold ourselves to higher standards when it's the treatment of an American? I would say yes, because we were outraged during Vietnam when Americans were waterboarded.
3)Yes, okay, apparently these people are evidenced to be involved in terrorist activities. Sure, okay, whatever. But we're paying informants to give us names of who is involved, and then waterboarding those people. Hm. If we think that waterboarding does give reliable information, and it isn't torture, perhaps we should be waterboarding the informants. Seriously. Because then we will know that the evidence against these people is sufficient to hold them in cells for upwards of seven years without charging them with anything. AND, because it's not torture, there's no problem in doing it. Right?
4)More generally, what is torture? If you look it up in the dictionary, it says that it means to "inflict severe pain of the body or mind." My parents tried to argue that psycological tactics are not torture. I disagree. I think that psychological torture is more long-lasting. Ask any abused person-- it's not the cuts and bruises that stick with you. On waterboarding, perhaps I'm a little biased because I have an insurmountable fear of drowning. Perhaps.
Now, some responses to my above questions might include "you don't actually die," "we don't know if they're guilty," etc. etc. I'd like to raise the question of the Geneva Conventions. Waterboarding is torture under the Geneva Conventions. Period. The Geneva Conventions also state that all sentences must be pronouced by a regularly constituted court affording all judicial gaurantees. Now, the usual argument is that the Geneva Conventions are not applicable because terrorists did not sign them, and are not a nation-state. Soo. Okay, here is my response to that, along with some other related thoughts:
1)There is not "War on Terror." We never declared war. Or did I miss that being passed by Congress? No. My dad says that the terrorists declared war on us 9/11. First, terrorists did not declare war, because they are not a nation-state. As is so fully argued. If you are using the term loosely, I have two responses:
First, that this is not the first attack on the WTC, nor the first attack on American soil (including embassies overseas). So why are they just now "declaring war?" Because it was the right time for us to respond due, to the economic and political benefits of doing so?
Second, and I know that this is controversial. So if we can agree that they did not actually declare war on us (because they are not a nation-state), and we did not declare war on them (as a nation-state), doesn't that make both of our actions terrorist? I mean, we're bombing countries without even declaring war. That's an act of terrorism. If we declared war, it would be an act of war. I know I'm never going to get some people to understand that we are not at war... but we never declared war. So we are also terrorists. Does that make me seem unamerican? Sorry if it does, but that's just the logical outcome when you actually think about it.
2) By signing the Geneva Conventions (and btw, we require other countries to sign as part of our agreements), it doesn't mean that we agree to follow these articles with the other countries who signed. It means we won't do this to anyone. "But, the terrorists are not a nation-state," right? Okay, here is what is going through my head: Think about when the Geneva Conventions were written-- first in 1864, and the last convention was after WWII. What was the terrorist activities going on during that time? All actions were done through governments. My argument, then, is this. By omitting rules for dealing with "enemy combatants" (as we call the suspected terrorists), it doesn't mean that it is therefore okay to use torture. It just means that they had no idea what the world would be like more than fifty years later. If terrorists didn't exist then, and acts of war were performed by nation-states, why do we assume that they were thinking "alright, we'll just say nation-states, and then if it's terrorists, the rules do not apply." Maybe everyone who wrote it and agreed to it didn't know what would develop later in the future.
So now we're getting into the way to interpret it. This is just as controversial, as we have seen from the ways to interpret the Constitution on issues that were not explicitly written. But if we stick with interpreting the Geneva Conventions with the spirit in which it was written, then we have to agree that torture is not acceptable. Were the Geneva Conventions--knowing both that it was written in a time void of "terrorists" and that torture is condemned-- written only to protect citizens of a nation-state at war? Or was it to protect the sanctity of human life, and to require the humane treatment of one another? I say the latter, and that it was written in the language of the decade.
Honestly, if we really think that it's okay to torture enemy combatants, then why don't we just amend the conventions?? As far as I know, the last amendment we made--and this was after 9/11-- was to require the use of a red cross on humanitarian aid vehicles. So, why not an amendment?
3) This is on torture more generally. Suppose we can't get people to understand that torture against suspected terrorists is abhorrent. What about the effects of torture on the torturers? As in, Americans.
There has been a lot of research done on the effects of decreased sensitivity to pain. Meaning, you see pain inflicted so much that it just doesn't bother you anymore, to the point that inflicting pain doesn't bother you, and you carry it into other parts of your life. For instance, obviously we are pretty aware of the connection between animal abuse and sociopaths. Huge correlation there, a big red flag (You can read Cruelty to Animals and Interpersonal Violence by Lockwood and Ascione, if you're curious). But are you also aware of the research done on factory farming/slaughtering animals for a living and violence? There are plenty of antecdotal research done to show that those who slaughter animals for a living-- especially in factory farms where animals are treated like products rather than living beings-- are more likely to carry home with them this insensitivity to pain. That means increased domestic violence. As Gustavo and Illich would say, "only stories make sense." But for those of you out there who need numbers and scientific methods, check out Slaughterhouse & Increased Crime Rates: An Empirical Analysis of the Spillover by Fitzgerald et. al.
I'm not trying to get you to stop eating meat and dairy products. Though you should. What I am bringing up is the correlation between institutionalized violence and unauthorized violence. I'd be curious to know the behavior of torturers outside of the military. I'm sure there is some sort of correlation between torturing people for a living and being a violent person. So I'd really love to see a study done when the institutionalized violence is towards people. I'd assume there to be a much higher correlation when the acts of violence are done against the same species. Of course, we'd have to admit to torture before we could study it. Ha. So maybe I'll never know. But my point is, what are we doing to our military, and how is it affecting their sense of what is acceptable and unacceptable behavior (I would say "right" and "wrong" but I want to make clear that it is subjective, and we're talking about what is right according to our culture)? And through this effect, what are we doing to their families? To their friends? To those who may piss them off at a bar?
Alright. I should also mention the difference between correlation and causation, and spurrious correlation, etc. But the fact of those things is that we'll never know, so why are we taking the chance? (Similarly, the theists out there who kill over who's God exists, when we'll never know for sure whether one exists at all. Duh, that's why it's called faith. Again, a conversation for another time.)
So, what are your thoughts? Is waterboarding torture? Is torture acceptable in some circumstances? I have my own ideas about when torture should be used, but this post is really long already, so I'd love to hear your thoughts, and then I'll post my policy recommendation when it comes to torture.
I'm trying to start my life as a real live adult. And that starts with getting my finances in order: reviewing my credit report and putting together a payment plan for my student loans. Which are going to kick my ass. But at least I am now fully aware of how much so. Luckily, I realized two years ago that I needed to start saving money, so as it turns out I'm pretty responsible. Whew.
Krista and I have also been taking hikes to prepare for our AT backpacking trip. Oh, did I not update y'all? We said, "screw it, let's do the Appalachian Trail instead." I mean, really, why not? When the AT is in your backyard, you've gotta do it. We're still doing a loop, though, since we need a way home. So this past Saturday we did a bit over 6 miles at Crowders Mountain. My favorite trail= Rocktop trail. I've done it before but we crossed back this time with Crowders Trail. It was legit 97 degrees this weekend with what must have been 70% humidity. I stopped to take a picture of a bridge about .2 mile in, and beads of sweat started dripping down my forehead. Like, wait a minute, I haven't even started the physical activity...
So here are some pictures of Krista and me preparing. I decided that there would be plenty of photo documentation of this trip. It is my graduation gift and all.
Training, day one (Probably only about a 2.7mi day):
King's Pinnacle Trail
I thought these trees were pretty cool
Krista at completion
Training, day two (Over 6mi for sure, maybe 6.5mi):
The bridge from my above story
Krista's point in the direction we need to go-- UP.
One gorgeous overlook.
Do you see the blazes? This is why it's my favorite
Robyn would be so proud of the bouldering
Well that about wraps it up. I have a deadline tomorrow for replyforall, but eh. I'll just get up early. Oh, also in my life preparation is GRE preparation. I don't even know what the test consists of section/question-wise, so I should really start looking into that. Anyone with any recommendations for computer- v. paper based?
Lastly, as I finish this massive blog post, I must say a bravissima! to Anna. She seems to be the only one who knows this quiz stuff (except Tonya knew the Nancy Drew, she just didn't post it). But honestly, people, if you don't start commenting soon, I'm going to stop blogging altogether (except for the paid stuff, of course). And it creeps me out a little that I don't know who's reading my posts...
Anyway, quiz time:
1) Explain the origin of PWNED. Then tell me how long it takes for the sun's light to reach the earth.
2) I have two massive collections of things. Other people are responsible for one collection (i.e. given to me as gifts), I am responsible for the other. What are they? Hint: They both have something in common-- their theme, perhaps. Another hint: Both can be found a my favorite store in Charlotte. Bonus if you know what that is.
So my head's been in a bad place lately. I'm not really sure why but I wasn't my normal, carefree self. And that sucks. Worst of all, I spent the last week or so going about my day without thought. Now I wonder if that is why I'd been irritable, because I wasn't paying attention to life. I think when you live on purpose, it's a lot easier to go with the flow. I know that statement may seem contradictory, but I don't think it is at all.
Or maybe it's just the weather that's making me irritable. It is absurdly sticky outside, all the time. It's so hot it rains. If you live in humidity, that makes perfect sense to you and you understand exactly the situation in which I find myself. And you know that it's not pleasant. I feel like clothing should be optional in weather like this. Seriously.
...I'm doing more work for replyforall, which is nice, and I even have a work address now. It's almost like I have a real job!
Ohhhh. I saw Atonement. It was pretty incredible and now I'm upset I didn't read the book first. James McAvoy is working his way up the list of actors whom I will almost surely see in any film. I mean, come on, Wanted? That was pretty badass-- very reminiscent of Fight Club. Though I'm not a fan of any of his female film counterparts. So you must understand that, when I say Atonement is worth two hours of your life, it's not because Keira Knightley stole the show.
Speaking of shows! Phantom of the Opera? I think the music gives me chills just about every time I hear it, but yesterday was the first time I'd seen it on stage. And seriously, I don't think musicals can ever live up to that standard ever again (or rather, they haven't since Weber brought Phantom to Broadway). The set was brilliant (I could talk about that for days), the music was looming, and the script was funny. And of course the mix between Broadway and Opera was pure genius. I mean, come on, people. I loved Wicked and all, but a moving dragon does not, nor could it ever, live up to a falling chandellier.
(For those of you who don't know, I am a HUGE theatre geek. So much so that I spell theatre with an "re" instead of an "er." Whatever. That's how it's spelled.)
Let's end on that note with a quiz question. I don't know if I should ask another random, because apparently no one knows the difference between the Qur'an and the hadith. Look it up, people. It might clear up some confusion, and then you can school some Republican/Conservative/Christian ass. Or stop being one of them yourself.
Sorry, that was off-subject. The question is: What is a childhood favorite musical of mine? (Hint: it's still a favorite and I performed in it. Bonus if you can tell me my role.)
I don't really have much to say but I'm up and figured I'd blog. So, updates?
Today (technically, since it's after midnight) is my sister's birthday! Hurray! And flag day, if that matters to you. We had her party tonight. I gave her a sock monkey. Which now means that I have Beastie Boys stuck in my head.
And speaking of head, HAHAHA. Okay, sorry, I wish I had something a little more provocative to say than "I have an awful headache." But I do, and it kills.
Other than that, nothing really happened today. Went hiking with my sister this morning at Crowders Mountain to King's Pinnacle. Which was labeled "strenuous" but we didn't think it was so bad. Until of course about a mile and a half in when suddenly it began the 45 degree incline. Ha, but it was fine. Also saw a black snake on the way back, which was sweet as. Backpacking in less than a month! I can't wait!
Oh! I went to Shakespeare in the park last night, which was pretty cool. Had a nice little picnic and watched Twelfth Night (which I believe you will recall was a quiz question a while back). I like that play a lot, but I always mix up some of the story with As You Like It... too many cross-dressing females of which to keep track. Both pretty hilarious, though.
Also hilarious? My dad saying "are you serial?" to my mom tonight.
Alright, I have to get away from this screen because I think my head is going to explode. But speaking of quizzes, it's been a while since I entertained you (eh, entertained myself, really) with a quiz. So here goes (one random, one personal-- as usual):
1) Per a conversation at dinner tonight: What is the difference between the Qur'an and the hadith?
2) I keep a notebook in my bag with a bunch of random questions/info/notes/etc. What is the piece of information I need from this notebook when I go into a used book store?
Cleaned out stuff in my room today and found a garter belt, condoms, and Mario Lemieux cards. Strange... and slightly kinky...
Also having a debate right now with one of my guy friends about the whole friends and sex thing. He is just not getting it. He is, in fact, convinced that we will eventually have sex. But funny thing, I tried to tell him that, as my guy friend, he has the anatomy of a Ken doll. I explained, and then he got really disappointed/ started laughing. He thought I meant that he was really attractive (...like a Ken doll?). HAHA. I'm not laughing because he's not, I'm just laughing because he cracks me up sometimes. Especially because we are having an actual argument about it. He's trying to explain this to me "logically." HAHA.
Alright, that was worth picking up the phone at two in the morning. Now I'm going to bed because I'm going hiking tomorrow! Wahoooo.
I realized I never posted my valedictorian speech from high school. So here it is. Don't judge me, okay? This was four years ago... though I still stand by everything I said then, I hope that now I would say it a bit more elegantly...
"Good afternoon Class of 2005, parents, and guests. Today is a formality- an announcement to the world of achievements long since made. I am happy to be standing here so I can let those to whom I am grateful know how much their guidance has meant to me. I want to first acknowledge my parents and sisters, I love you more than I can express; each one of you has inspired me in a different way. To all of my teachers: your classes were the reason that I came to school (when I did) and those of you who I have promised a car, I will follow through one day, cross my heart. And to my friends, especially my best friend, Amy, thank you for putting up with someone as difficult as me; thank you for the pats on the back, the honest advice, the orange juice, and all of the great memories that I’ll carry with me forever. It wasn’t that I was comfortable enough to be myself around you, but instead that I had no choice.
After asking several people about this speech, I realized that I should not discuss something that I hope will impact you years from now in your lives. It occurred to me that many of you will have forgotten what I have said before August and others before the night is over. Instead, I should talk about what is meaningful to us now. But I will try to take the advice of one of my teachers for writing papers. So hopefully this speech will be like a girl’s skirt, long enough to cover what’s important but short enough to keep them interested.
I’ve realized this year that I am not ready to be on my own. This year I have felt so mature, so grown-- as we all have, I’m sure. This year I have felt like an adult, and then something happens. Especially these past few months, where I feel so experienced until a certain event occurs and it knocks me off my pedestal, and suddenly… I feel utterly childish. I am helpless and not as independent and settled as I thought I was before. But in dealing with this loss I have also found some things out about myself.
In the eastern religion of Taoism, the essence of the Un-carved Block is that things or people in their natural simplicity have power within themselves. I know many people may stand up here and say that at this age, we are like clay, ready to be molded into the person we should be. But I want to ask all of you to stay un-carved. We have plenty of expectations to live up to in our lives, as a sister, brother, a son or a daughter, and a friend, and maybe one day a husband or wife and a mother or father. We have to be careful not to become the person that other people want us to be, but instead the person that we have been all along. Our simplicity is what makes us who we are, beyond what others may turn us into. It is when we allow others to change us that we begin to be chipped away, and carved into someone that we are not.
Keeping this in mind, we are all products of what we encounter. Every person that we come in contact with changes us, every event shapes us to a certain extent. So even if we regret people that we come in contact with, or grieve over events that have occurred, we have to appreciate them for what they are-- because everything that has happened to us, good or bad, has led us to this moment.
And now we are here, graduating and suffering the grief of leaving our friends, with whom we have not just grown older, but with whom we have grown. It’s hard to think about leaving everyone because I know if we all came back here in ten years it would not be the same-- Charlotte may be, but we won’t. Nelson Mandela once said that “there is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.” It is my hope that everyone here, when that day comes, will be satisfied with who we are.
The best advice I can give all of us, even myself, is to keep our eyes open, to acquire knowledge with an open heart and a receptive mind. Know the rules before you break them; know the people before you hate them. And go cautiously but confidently into the future. So one last thank you to everyone here for listening to me and not falling asleep, and for those of you who did, thanks for doing it quietly. To the Class of ’0-5, see ya in 10 years."
If it is possible for men and women to be "just friends." I mean, really. I'm very annoyed with the men in my life... though to be more accurate I should include "not in my life" in that statement as well.
I could probably elaborate about this more but I'll spare y'all the ranting. I think I'm a good friend. I dare say a great friend. And maybe guys should take that into consideration when trying to mess things up by bring it up to the next level (jumping ladders, if you will) or thinking that I do just because I am considerate. Maybe I just like to do nice things for people and your penis has nothing to do with it. And maybe you should just be happy with me doing nice things for you instead of wishing that at some point in the future I will be doing them naked.
I'm back in North Carolina for what I hope will not be too short or too long a time. Graduation was great. I didn't realize until I looked at the program that I graduated cum laude. So that's pretty cool.
Now, I'm looking into something... I swear I have so many different life tracks in which I'm interested that I'm struggling to figure out which one to do at which moment, for fear that the opportunities to do the other tracks will be gone later. Am I really considering academia? Yep, that's right, graduate school. For my Master's? No no, I like to really dive in. I'm looking at PhD programs. I should probably take the GRE at some point. Meh.
I'm also in the process of unpacking. I kind of like living out of suitcases and boxes, but packing and unpacking is also nice because I have to take a hard look at what I have and learn to purge my life of the unnecessary material goods within it.
Oh... and today I found a box stuffed into a far corner of my room. High school sentimental box. As in, high school boyfriend box. Ick. It was very nice to throw that entire thing away. I wonder if I'm condemned to spend my life trying to forget the past. I did read a letter that was in the box. Probably the best one to read because it was an apology of sorts... then I found "our" journal (yep, I'm pretty creative when it comes to long distance relationships) and the last entry was one I don't think he ever read. I think that was at the point when I was becoming stronger. I hated looking back over those things (but of course I couldn't resist taking a peek) because I find myself to have been so pathetic. The memories come flooding back (the concussion, the sprained ankle, the bruises and scars inside and out) when "hypothetical" conversations arise and I just want to throw up sometimes. But I'm stronger for it, and I guess that's all that matters. I can be changed by what happens to me, but I refuse to be reduced by it... I think that's how the saying goes.
And much like bad things, all good things come to an end. Like the college years (for a while?). I had a lot of fun, I have to admit. Not that I look back at Wellesley with some nostalgic longing to go back there or anything. But I am happy for Wellesley if for no other reason than giving me the opportunity to meet some amazing people. See how much fun we had at the photo booth? :)
And sometimes, when good things end, some other good things come back! Like Eric! I think he's coming over for some high school-style BFFL action tonight, which means cooking, guitar/singing jam session, and hopefully a massage. And perhaps more brainstorming about how to make miniature animals (like dolphins and elephants) a reality. And perhaps a debate on all things political and religious and silly. I'm setting the bar pretty high. But there's a lot to catch up on before his BAND goes on TOUR this summer. Ugh, I'm so jealous. He's living his dream. I'm probably more jealous that he even knows what his dream is, much less the fact that he's living it.
Since this seems to be a reflection on high school, and college, and all that great stuff, I believe my next post will be my graduation speech. Bah-haha! Back when I was all smart and valedictorian. You just can't wait, can you?
There’s something interesting about grief. The death of Granny is an event that I like to call “rock bottom,” but it was really just the opposite. I don’t even know if I’m ready to write about it, because she had such an impact on my life that even now I’m still discovering. She will get (another) short story dedicated to her eventually. But for now I’ll give a basic overview.
It’s not the death of Granny, really, but the life of Mrs. Daisy Huffstickler Hudgens that changed me. For the nine months I spent abroad, updates on family would stress and frustrate me. I felt helpless to change it. I felt guilty I wasn’t there.
Then the summer came, which provided me with the chance to spend three months with Granny. I lived with her and took care of her, including but not limited to dressing, bathing, feeding, and administering pills. But the times in between all of that—all of the conversations and silences—were the life-changing part. I felt helpless and unprepared. I felt stressed and frustrated, and then guilty for being stressed and frustrated. I felt like I was going crazy. I was in back woods North Carolina with no friends, no real civilization, and what felt like no freedom.
We almost lost her at the beginning of the summer. She had a few heart attacks and had luckily not yet signed a DNR order, so she spent weeks in the hospital, in ICU, and then another month in a rehab facility. So I spent my days there. And held her hand, and listened to her complain about doctors’ cold hands (“your fingers are like ice!”) and how the nurses were too rough with her (“ohhh foot, your tryin’a keel me.”). And she was adorable. Like, really, really adorable. Especially when she would talk without her dentures.
And she loved to hear stories about the family. Paul and the wedding that May (“that’s Paul? He’s got hair like a girl!”) and Jessica finally discovering that Granny wore a prosthetic breast (“what did Jessie say about my boob?”). And talking about how she didn’t know what she was going to do without her nurse. Me. Sometimes when I would get her undressed for bed, she would say (with no teeth in, of course), “Johanner, what are you going to do when you don’t have a Granny to look after?” And I would always say, “I don’t know, Granny, I just don’t know.”
And the truth is, I didn’t. I grew to love her, beyond the love that is automatically reserved for family members. It was that generous, selfless love that comes from loving someone’s soul and being beyond the limitations and faults. Of which she had few, minus perhaps the forgetfulness and inability to walk.
But she was so strong. That’s what I’ll remember most. Her brother, Max, would come by once a week or so to visit, and he would say that her will to live was the only thing keeping her alive. “When the Good Lord is ready to take her,” he’d say, “the Good Lord himself is gunna hafta come n’ drag her to heaven.” She made it through two types of cancer, disease and infection, and you couldn’t tell from the level of her spirit. I learned what joy looked like.
And it was true, she wasn’t going anywhere until she was good and ready, and that applied to things beyond heaven. On the flip side, when she was ready to go somewhere, there was really no way to stop her. We had to check her out of the rehab facility early because she would get up and push her way to the door. And oh man, the physical strength that woman could muster when it meant going home and getting back to her cat. That cat. Jesus. Tinker didn’t like anyone but Granny, and she would stay up for hours at night either fussing at or fussing over him.
So I still wonder what to do without Granny around. But I do know that I am so grateful she was a part of my life. I spent nine months abroad learning about other cultures, other people, other ways of knowing. But it took me those three months of being in the sticks of North Carolina to learn what love was. Going back to school that semester was a time of purging my life of the bad, the negative, the hurtful. But after Granny died, this semester was spent reeling in the good, the positive, the joyful. Soaking up every moment and appreciating them in all their beauty. And I know that she was a big part of that.
There's a lesson I learned from Granny that I always say, but never fully understood until last summer. Love isn’t something you feel, it’s something you do.
And I hope I can live up to how well she did that.
So I'm going bouldering today after I talk to my professor. Which I'm slightly nervous about because he may or may not have read my paper already. But yay bouldering! It's been a while.
I'm also planning a weekend backpacking trip with my sister Krista. We're in the process of finding a small tent (we have six-person tents, which isn't very conducive to packing. Or more specifically, packing light). But I'm so excited. This is the trail we're looking at: Maddron Bald Loop. Not bad for a weekend, and a beginner.
Lastly, my brother made the local news the other day for Hattie's Crawfish Festival. He's not cooking, but doing what I assume to be his number two favorite activity: eating. It runs in the family, I tell you. He's the one laughing and looking like he's having a really good time. That must also run in the family. :)
I want addresses. I was talking to someone about stationary the other week and I realized that, for all of the stationary I own, I don't write very many letters anymore. So I would like your address. You can put it as a comment, or email me. Seriously. I will write you, I promise. I'm buying stamps tomorrow. It's time I committed to something. Might as well start small, right?
Also, I would really love some book recommendations. Fiction and Non, wacky and thoughtful, intellectual and shallow. I want to read a lot this summer, too. FOR FUN. Gosh, I can't wait.
Lastly, if I haven't told you something that I enjoy about you lately, tell me. I really should be more open with the people that I care for, even if it's about nothing more than why I care for them. And if you're reading this, I cared about you enough to give you my blog. So that's pretty special, making you pretty special.
Damn, I'm in way too good a mood. (That was a lot of "oo" in the previous sentence...weird.)
So I didn't have time to write last night. I was phoning it up, and then my body was so tired from the beach that I just went to sleep. Now that everything's over, I'm not really sure to do with my time, but spending it in front of the computer doesn't really seem like fun at the moment. So I'm going to take my journal outside instead, along with the Tao of Pooh (I started reading it again yesterday at the beach), and my graduation dress. So I can write, read, or sew in a zipper. Seems like a good day to spend in the grass.
Anyway, I wanted to write down something I wrote for my IHP professor, Smitu Kothari. He passed away kind of suddenly over my spring break this year, and at the beginning of the month we had a little celebration of life in Boston while they had one in Delhi. Anyway, it was a great ceremony, and full of stories about him and how funny he was. It's interesting to me the impact that someone can have on your life, just by knowing them for a short while. Once you got to know Smitu... well, he was inspiring. It was one of those moments when he died where it seemed like the world should just stop moving and take notice.
So we had a prayer flag, and a chance to write a memory, or a message. I wrote mine, but as we all know I like to keep my feelings to myself. So I didn't put it on the prayer flag...but I'll write it here instead. It was in India when I realized that there are many places in a social movement, and many ways to make change... there's this whole metaphor with a candle... if you're interested, I'll explain later. But anyway... this is for Smitu, and a big thanks for his part in my life.
a lesson from Smitu:
it's not what you do with your life it's what you do in it. it is not the outcome but the actions ( the pure act of living is a movement of justice of peace of love.)
And I'm off to the beach... it's amazing how much I can get done when the prospect of going to the coast for the afternoon is dangled in front of my face.
I'll probably be exhausted and won't go into Boston tonight, but that's great news for you because then I can take a moment and maybe write a serious, thoughtful blog post. On a Friday night. Ha.
So, I will first say that I know I'm not fat. I feel like I should mention that because otherwise I'm going to get very angry comments. I'm very happy with my body, thanks. When I say "fattie" I do not mean to imply anything about my body shape, but rather the amount of food that I put into my body. Which is a lot. And my overwhelming desire to eat basically all the time has led to, among other things, a credit card bill full of restaurant tabs (along with drinking tabs, gas, and my cell phone bill. Not much else.).
Tonight... well, my overwhelming desire to eat just lost me $5. That's right. First of all, I'm in Pendleton (please see my balloon story if you're confused), and I didn't bring food with me. It's like, a five minute walk back to my room, but if I went back, I would never leave, and therefore never finish this paper. Besides, my room is stocked with the very basics right now-- beer, hommus, carrots, almonds, and pickles-- which I've been sustaining myself on for a week now. So I want something different.
So I need change for the vending machine so that I can buy one of three vegan things in there (none of which are healthy, but that's beside the point). All I have is a five dollar bill. Being the smart person that I am, I know that the copying machine takes five dollar bills. So I insert my five dollars and then hit the change button... and then realize I have to make a copy before I can get change.
Of course I stick my head under the copy machine (and oh yes, someone passed by at this point) and make the silliest face I can think of, and hit the green "copy" button.
Nothing happens.
The machine is broken. Not broken enough not to take my five dollars, NO. Only broken enough to make me self-depricate to no avail.
So I lost five dollars. Sigh. And it all would've been totally worth it if I could've gotten change.
I just thought I would pass this around. Everyone's gotten really into the fmylife.com site lately, but for some of us, it's not really all that easy to relate to, or at least not all the time.
So for those of us whose lives are average (and maybe even slightly boring), I give you: mylifeisaverage.com.
...That was dramatic. But my throat is KILLING me. I'm sure the stress over Zapatista paper/finals had something to do with it. And also perhaps the fact that my 3 hours in the car to and from Amherst to visit with Molly and Emma was spent singing very loudly along to my music.
So clearly the best recourse for this is drinking beer. And going to sleep early. I'll write my last paper tomorrow. (Last paper of my college career, perhaps? Cross yo' fingers, bitches!)
My throat is so hoarse... I just tried to squeal out of excitement, and no sound came out of my mouth. Though I did hear the dog barking downstairs...
I'm not in an over-thinking sort of mood right now (you're thinking "WHAT? Does that Johanna even exist??" I assure you it does), so I'll save the things more serious to talk about later. Right now I have just been enjoying every moment without thinking of their implications. That's for another time.
So to end this, I'll leave you with a video that makes fun of college kids. I think I'm allowed to do that since I won't be a college kid very, very soon.
So I'm sitting in the Atrium doing my work, surrounded by the Emerald Palace from the Wizard of Oz. (Backstory: senior prank every year is to decorate buildings, and Pendleton was the WOO. You can imagine my delight. Especially because they also took my idea to recycle bottles to use as decorations. It's was a recycled Emerald Palace. Marvelous.) I'm going to tell it as a story:
It's finals, people are being extremely quiet and getting their work done. You're quietly procrastinating. Seniors are gearing up to party and graduate and celebrate Wellesley either though reminiscing over Wellesley memories or imagining how great it will be to have Wellesley as a just a memory.
And then, from beyond the clickity-clack of computer keys, you hear something. "Sssssssssss." This hissing noise is coming from behind you and don't want to turn around because, much like smiling at strangers on campus, a turn will incite glares hinged with "mind your own business." So you remain in your mime-like cubicle as the hissing becomes closer. Suddenly you see it out of the corner of your eye: a custodian. He's walking by, pulling balloons off the wall, one by one, and cutting holes in them. He drops them on the floor, and the balloons squirm as air is released. You, as a senior, find this to be very symbolic of your relationship with Wellesley as the institution. You feel like you're withering away. Your soul is a deflating balloon.
Just as you laugh to yourself over the balloons, the custodian either can't reach or has become impatient. "POP." He is now popping balloons, and you notice the stop of the clickity-clack. Everyone has noticed. The balloons, themselves now penetrated , have penetrated the mime-like cubicles of Wellesley students.
As it turns out, people are aware of life off the computer screen during finals. Even if they still glare when you smile.
Okay, I really could make up an entire story based off of that one situation, but I really should get back to replyforall stuff since I actually get PAID for writing there. Though it's not nearly as entertaining.
and I'm flipping ecstatic. Flipping. Yes. I want to do flips. Because it's finally OVER.
What, you ask? Well, you haven't been talking to me lately if you don't know.
Zapatistas can suck it because my paper is done and turned in and it's late and I don't carrreeeeeee. (I'm saying that to the tune of a song. A song I just made up in my head.) (Zapatistas, don't really suck it. I just spent 20 pages defending you, I really like you. Really the paper can suck it.)
Alright, it's four AM which means in a couple of hours I will have been up for one complete day, and while that's probably the most entertaining time to be around me, I don't think it really comes across in writing (it's so hard to convey tone!).
So I am excited for today because it's Sunday and I get to see Molly and Emma. And that will complete an almost perfect weekend. Near perfect. Like, pretty up there as far as weekends go...yeah.
And, to complete this post before I finish this beer and fall asleep to the birds chirping outside my window, I will make one of my handy lists.
Best things EVER when you're in a good mood, but not so much if you're in a bad one:
1.)Birds chirping outside the window 2.)Kids saying (you guessed it) the darnedest things 3.)Rain on your face when you've forgotten an umbrella 4.)Loud music to the point of obnoxious-ity (yeah, is there no noun for that? Interesting discovery...) 5.)Chills 6.)Lots of giggling 7.)PDA 8.)Someone blowing up your phone
Okay, that's all I can think of at the moment. It's kind of hard to think of things that wouldn't be awesome if you were in a bad mood. Because I'm kinda delirious right now. But eight things is actually a lot. Hm. I'll have to work on that when I'm in a bad mood to cut that list down.
ALLLLSO. My element is water. (If you're an IHPer, you should read this the same way Helena said it during the Captain Planet group checks. If you're not, ask me for my impression.)
Picture from abroad, because why the hell not: This week's quiz: name this tree.
I have no reason to title my blog post that, except that I think it is a really funny word to say. But only if you actually squawk whilst saying the word "squawk." Give it a try, seriously. HILARIOUS, right?
Okay, so I'm sorry my last post was boring, especially after I'd gone two months. We're going to spice up this blog with some cool video or something. I am more fun in person than I am in my blog, and I find that to be an epic fail. So here's an adorable video of some otters. Don't stop watching-- if you think it's cute, see it through because it just gets cuter.
Also, I've been thinking lately about-- and sorry to have to read about this after talking to you, Tonya-- transexuals and transition drugs/surgery. My friend from abroad is engaged/committed to a woman who is transitioning into a man. First, let me say that I really knew nothing about this area. I feel like coming from my background, I was already at a disadvantage, but even at Wellesley where I know people are transitioning, it's never been on my mind or in my vision. Now knowing someone who is going through this, it's really interesting to delve into a topic so far removed from my everyday interactions.
I should say that I have met Cayes (pronounced Kye) and he is such a great person. Really chill, loves Britney Spears (which we all know is my not-so-secret guilty pleasure), and is down with just about everyone. Understanding on a more personal level the reasons that someone is going through this and making this change has been a lesson to me in knowing myself. For someone to come to the conclusion that they are living in the wrong body sexually speaking not only shows deep awareness of themselves, but to act upon that knowledge in a way to improve your life shows great courage. Especially when considering that, by taking such a big step, you are alienating and sometimes exiling yourself from friends and family. It's amazing how much I've grown to respect Cayes and even (without knowing them personally) FTM transitioners in general from being able to fully understand the reasons for and the reactions to such a life-changing decision.
So anyway, I guess I'm just going to mention that he is reaching out to friends for help getting him to the West Coast, and also to raise money to have top surgery (bust removal, basically). He's asking $10 a person, and while I know money's tight, it's the same amount as a shot of liquor in a bar, and therefore I think it's important to consider the impact this would have on his life. Here's his facebook event page about raising money, his donations page, and videos of him documenting his transition from female to male. (I should also mention that, from a journalistic standpoint, I think it's valuable that he documents this transition for himself; but to put it out there with the intention of showing solidarity to other FTM transitioners and those questioning it for themselves, I find that to be really amazing.) The videos are well done in their own right, but I think it's nice to watch even if you don't really care about Cayes personally, because it documents and raises awareness about an issue that is largely kept at society's periphery.
Also, Cayes in Kreyol means "home, house" which had special meaning to him because he finally feels at home with himself. Very cool.
Alright, that's all for tonight. I have to write a paper tomorrow to turn in late about the Zapatistas, and I already have someone wanting to read it. First late paper EVER, and a drop in my grade, but it's totally worth it. Life's more important than the academic institution.
Quiz? I feel like no one tried to answer my last question. So that makes y'all lame, too. I hope you will get the pop culture reference: NO QUIZ FOR YOU! (There should be some foreign accent when reading that...)
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_uc7OeHdKF1outdL7ZiTMripBmcoYqRXX4djSwQbYeR77L9r47M3Xm34p7S6vZgM6xcgamMRaKu_CkKYCA5wbJtG0mH0IVF0XlFEI3lwWXRFddkqN_XFJ91N_6UTfp7IPXRp85GzhGZOx8Z2FgwXk__=s0-d)
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_tEnykN2zjLehnRsNTsfgL-aEUjWMjl9kVEi6KLmMWkVxrieYeqkmRL6Jd1RTkeEZqsoYHmPp5hxYdKX5Ei-z96IsaNifnEeHWB66F6Uv_hv4vQTMRHBqr41Z931JHglelaJaNG3BDKTww-snxQKPzO=s0-d)
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_sG05kh1Ke3LIcIw9bsClBcgwVYGbf45KqHJ2f8m1f05dRlb8pV-n7Sg1DFYVjF-tvVEangSIw2LBVkBHNRhxAxY1ZbMofde-OqjmC77Or86edNhO1OKtBjDjj4k2zPmQvsmoNukgWDfmFHkTkKVs0E=s0-d)
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_v717WkftYqzOKKLtmeIF7bXbb6bKE_v2t60X-rHFaJwnPvQ6eS73nEbsXxbyfOmiLnCAIS5BIjYhmUTwVrcnh-366zFklbdc_7x5j9LhI5tY6Lq4mCV-iH1p-VAtRNTCtF4BjLqDyXwxRjXTxbqVM=s0-d)
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_s4CNYn_t5FwdlZu_xrANXlj5xjbTc_-2cw-_1Virecs9TGAAtDVF89pu9U4y4KKai0leb7H-mbFLURrICWcYqGhG9rv6mHC_tVMpH1EfoXrgAxhrkKo9dlEPyFQJ_CPSyi_NqAnt9-W8EVOXLiQdQ=s0-d)
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_vVLSm8FUKJyHXykMwe0SihbQNpFqWV5D-OQIKkVz8x8UIs5Uc9vYtg52GyeLPJHMQlANgJCepe58sepdb-X-FTqvLmgzHiZn9zRx7gZzPFKyXXqQsVtO4GrGMYwEYN4z6dOmfJ2TbbWLiEe0V-1Jk=s0-d)
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_tK-Rzlo3g5S8S265W5kJncaxeqzh0ceSFo68tgyedjakl-EJNdOfkUWxceJ5Gn76ktRPfygGRULoo1onjmUD7s4OVx_-BYNFPHXtHEIMCwnPvWCwae4U8-R1QYy73rDPXWN630ssYOH7UBvPdF7H0S=s0-d)
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_uaXefUxm9nu3ODcQv2-ziBXlCXnVhbS71kZDsFxLmL-hWVghHQFGlvwqcVoqCiAEQ1pbZ115B7YY_yQchLfrwnpi4-8hTJJ9i8dThU98LRqiPcyU-yGcwlKmLJ5U16N3CocfpbUpzBi9RAeJSexWOZ=s0-d)
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_svpZQ9l_nrNhfBnK30ne5RQaXfVtVwhxFhhyb7JOesv5ZTCaNWT0gyojK8CyzW9bjqGZQ1Ey5FSaG8stXk-JEeS6OD8fzUs4owDOxqDHbXW5CE8Jw9UppAUo49QcZ4_y86xv0bihxoRfo0tH1TFuib=s0-d)
