I went to Improv last night, but left before it started. The Black Box was packed, mostly with people who irritated me just by existing, and it was one of those nights when I didn't want to be around people at all, really, so I left. I went to the Algebra instead.
Mark was there, fiddling about seeing a show and joining a band, and left pretty quickly after I got there. I sat at the bar with Phil and watched him roll a cigarette while I drank my water. And somewhere between actual closing time and when the patrons began to leave, things fell into place for the kind of conversation you remember for years afterward. We talked about being antsy, about wanting to get out and away, about the sense that life should be more joyful than it is right now.
I told him that I'd seriously thought about running away to San Francisco with someone I barely know, just because it wasn't what I'd been doing and maybe I needed a change. He talked about trying to graduate in a year and taking full-time summer classes and wanting to be able to be engaged in his learning before he went to med school. We talked about love, about our significant others. About our careers, about our fear of settling down and becoming more of the newspaper-subscribing population. And I said two of the saddest things I think I've ever said:
"Everyone falls in love. I mean, you want to think that it's this blissfully unique experience and that no one else evers loves like you, but it's a fact: most people fall in love, and most people get married. Love is so mundane."
"I looked back at a past relationship, and I realized it was abusive in a few different ways, and I was in love with him. Really, really, in love with him. And I don't think I ever want to be in love like that again. It's just easier, more comfortable, to be cold and to not be in love."
I feel like right now is the time to change, if I'm not going to be this cold and hard for the rest of my life.
Phil also said something else much more interesting last night, about related connotations of words. He started out talking about Arabic (and I wish I could relay this conversation the way it happened, with lots of scribbling in Arabic on random pieces of paper) and Hebrew and how the word for peace--shalom in Hebrew, salaam in Arabic--is related to the Arabic word for submission, islam. We talked for a while about how this connotation is buried deep in the subtext of a language you can only really have spoken since birth, and he brought up the following sequence of words in English:
endure, endurance, duration, during, durable.
I found this to be easily the most cool thing I'd heard all week.
31 March 2007
29 March 2007
A Book You Read in Reverse
It always happens this way. I come home and watch the Food Network to blow off a little steam, maybe daydream a little bit about a world in which Giata de Laurentis is my best friend, and just as I've gotten spoonful two or three of Ben & Jerry's to my mouth, we break to commerical. And not just any commercial. The one about the documentary on obese teenagers. With the man-tits on the exercise bike and the pudgy, pudgy fingers. Few things about fatness creep me out like pudgy appendages. I lick my spoon and put the ice cream back in the freezer, almost untouched.
27 March 2007
Making My Way Back to Cleveland
Since I didn't go to San Francisco (I still want to go. I'm still not sure why.) I went to my organic chemistry lab yesterday. The synthesis we were doing involved 2 hours of stirring and heating and I spent about half that time sitting at my lab bench, reading and writing. My professor stopped by and asked me what I was reading. Answer: a book on the Triangle Shirtwaist fire. Not happy reading, but a little bit thematic since Case neglected to check the weather report and was heating the buildings, resulting in an ambient lab temperature of 84 F which was, of course, higher near the hot plates. We make small talk about how hot it is, wondering if maybe just this once we could do lab in bikinis and goggles, of course, for safety. She mentions her summer classes she's planning on teaching, and says she's going to leave after next year--that a class like this looks good on her resume. I find it sad that she wants to leave; although the class is predominately premeds who don't care about the subject matter, I genuinely like the class and her.
I asked what she was doing with her "second spring break" she was taking, and she said she wanted to relax at home and watch some movies, although she and her family were probably going to go to New York. Her daughter wants to see the Statue of Liberty and Ground Zero. "She says to me," my prof says in her really delightful accent, "Mom, did you know that something bad happened there? We learned about it in school."
She stops and looks at me, and I look back at her and am unable to articulate in time what I'm thinking: that we both have forgotten that our children will have to be taught what happened on September 11, 2001. That for generations to come, it will not be something that happened to them. I think about my grandparents and Pearl Harbor, my parents and Kennedy's assassination. I think about walking through the halls to have my picture taken in a pretty green sweater, seeing Kate come running (running, in our usually decorous halls) back from the office yelling "They're bombing us!" I remember how the principal didn't want to turn the TVs on, didn't want us to know. We didn't do anything in school that day, and I was in advanced chemistry when the towers fell. All after school activities were cancelled that day, and I went home and called my ex, who was the most politically astute person I knew. I asked him what would happen, and he told me we'd go to war with Russia. Ha.
All in all, I much prefer the Triangle Fire. Less loss of life, and in the end, the political activists won the day, and everyone is safer. I wish all stupid, preventable tragedies ended this way.
I asked what she was doing with her "second spring break" she was taking, and she said she wanted to relax at home and watch some movies, although she and her family were probably going to go to New York. Her daughter wants to see the Statue of Liberty and Ground Zero. "She says to me," my prof says in her really delightful accent, "Mom, did you know that something bad happened there? We learned about it in school."
She stops and looks at me, and I look back at her and am unable to articulate in time what I'm thinking: that we both have forgotten that our children will have to be taught what happened on September 11, 2001. That for generations to come, it will not be something that happened to them. I think about my grandparents and Pearl Harbor, my parents and Kennedy's assassination. I think about walking through the halls to have my picture taken in a pretty green sweater, seeing Kate come running (running, in our usually decorous halls) back from the office yelling "They're bombing us!" I remember how the principal didn't want to turn the TVs on, didn't want us to know. We didn't do anything in school that day, and I was in advanced chemistry when the towers fell. All after school activities were cancelled that day, and I went home and called my ex, who was the most politically astute person I knew. I asked him what would happen, and he told me we'd go to war with Russia. Ha.
All in all, I much prefer the Triangle Fire. Less loss of life, and in the end, the political activists won the day, and everyone is safer. I wish all stupid, preventable tragedies ended this way.
25 March 2007
Days Go By
Today I was seized with the strange urge to pack a bag and go to San Francisco. I don't get travelling urges much, if ever, and so this sudden desire to pack up, skip a week of classes, and go to the coast is out of character for me. Nonetheless, I asked R if he wanted to go. He said he had no money. I seriously pondered calling Mark, since out of everyone I know Mark would be the most likely to show up at my door fifteen minutes later, packed and ready to go.
I didn't call Mark. I did two loads of laundry and vacuumed my floor and cooked lunch and sat on the couch and read High Fidelity for the fourth or fifth time, since I love Nick Hornby. He has this delightful way of looking at things that makes me feel mundane without any of the negative connotations. I went to the gym and as I ran, I thought about why I wanted to go to San Francisco. There isn't anything I really want to see or do in San Francisco--okay, maybe the Exploratorium, but that wouldn't necessitate a random early-spring flight. Finally, I concluded that I didn't want to go to San Francisco. I didn't spend my day dreaming about going there, about what I'd see and do with whoever I was there with. I didn't do research, I didn't look up flights or hotels. I daydreamed about being the kind of person who would go.
This happens, every so often. I spend a lot of time fantasizing about a life that is much different from mine. Last time I wanted the life of a poet who lived in New York and wore a lot of secondhand clothing. (Funny thing was, at one point in my life, that was pretty much me) Now I want to be a person who picks up and goes with no thought for consequences.
The truth of the matter is, if Mark or anyone showed up at my door, I'd tell them I'm synthesizing WellButrin in ochem lab tomorrow, and I really don't want to miss it. Because I am the person who lives for science, for the thrill of doing things and watching their outcomes, and despite my occasional fantasies, I wouldn't give it up for the world.
I didn't call Mark. I did two loads of laundry and vacuumed my floor and cooked lunch and sat on the couch and read High Fidelity for the fourth or fifth time, since I love Nick Hornby. He has this delightful way of looking at things that makes me feel mundane without any of the negative connotations. I went to the gym and as I ran, I thought about why I wanted to go to San Francisco. There isn't anything I really want to see or do in San Francisco--okay, maybe the Exploratorium, but that wouldn't necessitate a random early-spring flight. Finally, I concluded that I didn't want to go to San Francisco. I didn't spend my day dreaming about going there, about what I'd see and do with whoever I was there with. I didn't do research, I didn't look up flights or hotels. I daydreamed about being the kind of person who would go.
This happens, every so often. I spend a lot of time fantasizing about a life that is much different from mine. Last time I wanted the life of a poet who lived in New York and wore a lot of secondhand clothing. (Funny thing was, at one point in my life, that was pretty much me) Now I want to be a person who picks up and goes with no thought for consequences.
The truth of the matter is, if Mark or anyone showed up at my door, I'd tell them I'm synthesizing WellButrin in ochem lab tomorrow, and I really don't want to miss it. Because I am the person who lives for science, for the thrill of doing things and watching their outcomes, and despite my occasional fantasies, I wouldn't give it up for the world.
Outside Last Night
Friday night I fell over in a parking lot and told my boyfriend that I couldn't walk because I was Stephen Hawking. I am so thankful that he finds me funny when I'm drunk.
22 March 2007
Walking in the Rain and the Snow
On my way back to the medical school today, I find myself contemplating from under my umbrella yet another campus statue. All the campus statues fall into one of two categories: Things That Look Fallen Over or Things That Look Like Simple Geometric Shapes. The one by the medical school falls into the Fallen Over category. I believe the big white elephant-like statue by the Triangle building is its mate. This seems to be another theme of the campus statues, that they must come in pairs.
Looking at the very expensive yet stupid-looking piece of art, I am reminded of a meeting I had recently where I was told that the head of the campus art directive or whatever hated the idea for a Doc statue, said it would be "ugly" and wouldn't fit in with his carefully sculpted master vision for this campus's art. He then offered to dedicate the new piece of art that will be placed next year to Doc instead. I would have been hurt by this had this not been the same committee that apparently commissioned not one, but two statues of self-fellating men for placement on campus. One is on Northside near the volleyball courts, and the other is in the lobby of Eldred Theatre.
I am also reminded, by the weather, that my junior year of high school I became minorly ill for no reason for an extended period of time. Everything I put in my mouth made me nauseated, and visits to the doctor resulted in a theory of pregnancy (false!) or anxiety (maybe?) or an infection of some sort. For about a month I was on 150 calories a day, the calories contained in the breakfast bar I ate dutifully because my antibiotics were supposed to be taken with food. I lost 15 pounds, and woke up one morning with a healthy appetite and no nausea.
It occurs to me that this happened over the same late January/February/early March stretch that is always so hard for me. Lately eating has been difficult for me, as once again everything I eat my stomach seems to take issue with having to deal with. I have a very emo stomach. I am sure that if a psychiatrist asked me a few questions, s/he'd deduce that I suffer from Chronically Seasonal Affective Restless Leg Syndrome Disorder or whatever. I'm not so unobservant not to note that my depression always seems to occur around the same times of year--a few days in autumn, and a few weeks in early spring. But I'm not bothered by it, it doesn't keep me from doing things. I'm sitting back here in the dark room with my cells, happily taking pictures every twenty seconds, keeping my mental running commentary. In a couple weeks I'll be better, and it will be spring.
Looking at the very expensive yet stupid-looking piece of art, I am reminded of a meeting I had recently where I was told that the head of the campus art directive or whatever hated the idea for a Doc statue, said it would be "ugly" and wouldn't fit in with his carefully sculpted master vision for this campus's art. He then offered to dedicate the new piece of art that will be placed next year to Doc instead. I would have been hurt by this had this not been the same committee that apparently commissioned not one, but two statues of self-fellating men for placement on campus. One is on Northside near the volleyball courts, and the other is in the lobby of Eldred Theatre.
I am also reminded, by the weather, that my junior year of high school I became minorly ill for no reason for an extended period of time. Everything I put in my mouth made me nauseated, and visits to the doctor resulted in a theory of pregnancy (false!) or anxiety (maybe?) or an infection of some sort. For about a month I was on 150 calories a day, the calories contained in the breakfast bar I ate dutifully because my antibiotics were supposed to be taken with food. I lost 15 pounds, and woke up one morning with a healthy appetite and no nausea.
It occurs to me that this happened over the same late January/February/early March stretch that is always so hard for me. Lately eating has been difficult for me, as once again everything I eat my stomach seems to take issue with having to deal with. I have a very emo stomach. I am sure that if a psychiatrist asked me a few questions, s/he'd deduce that I suffer from Chronically Seasonal Affective Restless Leg Syndrome Disorder or whatever. I'm not so unobservant not to note that my depression always seems to occur around the same times of year--a few days in autumn, and a few weeks in early spring. But I'm not bothered by it, it doesn't keep me from doing things. I'm sitting back here in the dark room with my cells, happily taking pictures every twenty seconds, keeping my mental running commentary. In a couple weeks I'll be better, and it will be spring.
18 March 2007
I Can't Write To Music
Spring break down in Virginia was fun, if a little stressful balancing the boy and the parents. I have found a marvelous apartment that my future roommate and I both love, and life is pretty good right now. Since this is sort of knuckle-cracking blogging before I start on a larger project tonight, I'll be brief:
two words I love and a word I do not:
subtle: As a physicist this word has fantastic connotations far beyond just the dictionary definition. In physics, if a problem is "subtle" it really means "fantastically difficult to understand or even think about properly."
nuance, nuanced: A word that looks lovely on the page (I love the 'ua' combination) and one that gives me problematic mental images, ones that refuse to be articulated. There's a hand gesture of sorts, a manual sketching of a graph with a point of inflection, but also a sense of the curve of a woman's lower abdomen and pelvis.
important: I hate this word when people throw it around in literature discussion to justify the reading or the enforced reading by others of works which suck. If something is important, it should also be good. Period. If it is important enough to say, then it is important enough to say well, in a manner which people will want to read. This attitude frequently gets me nowhere when arguing with, say, history professors.
two more facts about me:
101) I know all the words to two national anthems (ours and Israel's; yes, in Hebrew, no, I'm not Jewish)
102) but can only sing the alto part. If you ask me how the tune of the Star-Spangled Banner goes, I will not be able to tell you.
two songs that would make my all-time greatest songs ever recorded list:
1) Sweet Home Alabama ~ Lynard Skynard
2) Love You Madly ~ Cake
two fictional characters I would totally do if only they were real:
1) Lex Luthor
2) Jack Shaftoe
two words I love and a word I do not:
subtle: As a physicist this word has fantastic connotations far beyond just the dictionary definition. In physics, if a problem is "subtle" it really means "fantastically difficult to understand or even think about properly."
nuance, nuanced: A word that looks lovely on the page (I love the 'ua' combination) and one that gives me problematic mental images, ones that refuse to be articulated. There's a hand gesture of sorts, a manual sketching of a graph with a point of inflection, but also a sense of the curve of a woman's lower abdomen and pelvis.
important: I hate this word when people throw it around in literature discussion to justify the reading or the enforced reading by others of works which suck. If something is important, it should also be good. Period. If it is important enough to say, then it is important enough to say well, in a manner which people will want to read. This attitude frequently gets me nowhere when arguing with, say, history professors.
two more facts about me:
101) I know all the words to two national anthems (ours and Israel's; yes, in Hebrew, no, I'm not Jewish)
102) but can only sing the alto part. If you ask me how the tune of the Star-Spangled Banner goes, I will not be able to tell you.
two songs that would make my all-time greatest songs ever recorded list:
1) Sweet Home Alabama ~ Lynard Skynard
2) Love You Madly ~ Cake
two fictional characters I would totally do if only they were real:
1) Lex Luthor
2) Jack Shaftoe
12 March 2007
This Fool's In Love Again
In my very first college english class our professor told us about how to break writer's block. "Turn off the screen," he said, "and just write. Write without thinking about what you're saying--it doesn't even matter what it is, just as long as it gets down there. Breaking up that white page is the biggest step."
I am going to call my most influential high school teacher today and ask her to meet me sometime over break. I see her about once a year and it's always enjoyable. I know she likes to keep tabs on her students after they graduate, and I am a second-generation student of hers; she had my father as well. I plan to tell her that I have good news, and I'm afraid that she will assume I'm getting married.
My mother is back to piling on the marriage pressure. She's started buying books strictly for grandkids and showing them to me. Today, as I sit in our computer alcove and look at the bookshelf, I notice a book I read illicitly back in junior high called "The First Time." It's an instruction manual of sorts for losing your virginity. I wonder if Mom intended to give it to me before my wedding, and I am suddenly filled with sadness, for her and for myself.
I wonder if I hadn't been raped how different things would be, sexually. I know I wouldn't have had such a high drive to get experience that wasn't nightmarish. I probably wouldn't have boy-hopped as much freshman and sophmore years, although who knows about that. I wonder if all that virginal inertia would have wound up as waiting for marriage, if I'd be married by now, to whom.
I am going to call my most influential high school teacher today and ask her to meet me sometime over break. I see her about once a year and it's always enjoyable. I know she likes to keep tabs on her students after they graduate, and I am a second-generation student of hers; she had my father as well. I plan to tell her that I have good news, and I'm afraid that she will assume I'm getting married.
My mother is back to piling on the marriage pressure. She's started buying books strictly for grandkids and showing them to me. Today, as I sit in our computer alcove and look at the bookshelf, I notice a book I read illicitly back in junior high called "The First Time." It's an instruction manual of sorts for losing your virginity. I wonder if Mom intended to give it to me before my wedding, and I am suddenly filled with sadness, for her and for myself.
I wonder if I hadn't been raped how different things would be, sexually. I know I wouldn't have had such a high drive to get experience that wasn't nightmarish. I probably wouldn't have boy-hopped as much freshman and sophmore years, although who knows about that. I wonder if all that virginal inertia would have wound up as waiting for marriage, if I'd be married by now, to whom.
08 March 2007
No Righteous Anger Today
I leave for spring break on Saturday. Between right now and then, I have a few academic obligations, such as class and test corrections, and a few social obligations, like going drinking with Babette, the old roommate. Since I've finished my paper for history (summary: hey US, stop deposing leaders just because they call themselves communist) I really have very little to do, and so I'm planning my spring break.
Plans:
* make risotto. mmmm.
* bake a lot of things other than Toll House Cookies, because those are boring.
* continue good progress losing weight.
* buy a formal dress.
* write. a lot. This blog might be getting a new regular feature.
* find an apartment for next year!
Plans:
* make risotto. mmmm.
* bake a lot of things other than Toll House Cookies, because those are boring.
* continue good progress losing weight.
* buy a formal dress.
* write. a lot. This blog might be getting a new regular feature.
* find an apartment for next year!
06 March 2007
Walk, Don't Run.
Kids, did you know that your favorite superheroes are warping your young, impressionable mind? No? Really, it's true! Comic books such as Superman and Spiderman can cause you to become a sadist, (if you're a boy) a masochist, (if you're a young lady) a homosexual, or even a prostitute!
--end PSA--
No, really. Check it out here, especially Chapter Seven: Seduction of the Innocent.
Moral outrage aside, this really reminds me of Reefer Madness. Reefer is more addictive than heroin! It will make you into a murderer! A cannibal murderer! A cannibal rapist murderer!! Who will bite our children and turn them gay. GAY AND LIBERAL.
That said: Even I, who love to see the GAY everywhere, know that Bruce Wayne is not a crazy gay pedophile. I know that, while possibly damaging to the perception of how women handle danger, seeing Lois Lane chained to yet another pole will not turn me into a lesbian submissive. The X Men do not live in a crazy hippie free love commune. They're just superheroes, guys.
Some favorite quotes: "One of the stock mental aphrodisiacs in comic books is to draw girls' breasts in such a way that they are sexually exciting. Wherever possible they protrude and obtrude." (emphasis original)
Firstly, if you're a 12 year old boy, how is it possible to draw breasts so they aren't sexually exciting? Secondly, if you have breasts, you know how they protrude. They're convex. It happens. If you're trying to draw an anatomically correct woman, her breasts will protrude as opposed to extending concavely into her chest. On the other hand, women and men are both drawn exaggeratedly sexually in comics. No denying that. But the dudes all seem to have invisible penises--maybe from steroids? That'd be a good story line...
"There are men who have a desire to see undressed girls tied to posts or with their hands bound behind their backs or above their heads, or confined in chains...American children are given every opportunity to develop these psychopathic tendencies."
So light bondage is psychopathic now? No, liking the idea of light bondage is psychopathic. Lock up 3/4 of all men!
"A boy from a well-to-do family was referred to me...he and three other boys used to go to a candy store in the neighborhood where they ate ice cream cones, bought comic books, and talked big. One evening...they drove...to Broadway. [this passage is wordy] There they picked up a young prostitute and took her to the home of one of the boys whose parents were away. Two of them had intercourse with her and various sexual experiments were tried out, the girl being very co-operative. They paid her five dollars each. After that, all four went out with her int he car to drive her back to Broadway as they had promised. On the way...[t]hey stopped the car, pounced upon the girl and while one held her forcibly around the neck the others beat her unmercifully about the face and body. They went through her handbag and took out all her money...Then they left her at a subway station, with just enough money to pay her fare. This is comic-book stuff."
No, it's really not. It's proof that comic books are the old "violent video games" argument. These kids blamed their actions on video games. One of their mothers wrote in to Penny Arcade, a web comic devoted to games, violent and otherwise, basically (if you don't want to read her long letter) apologizing, saying the kid was a manipulative little shit who said the right thing at the right time to get himself out of trouble.
"Some of the ordinary comics have illustrations revealing crude sexual details if you look at them in a certain way."
All I have to say about that is if you want to play "find the vag" you'll have plenty of fodder for it. Vaginas, like the GAY, are everywhere.
"[A pre-pubescent prostitute] read about twenty comic books a day. Some of them she read over three or four times. After she saw the Sister Kenny movie she formed the ideal of becoming a nurse who cures the people. But one good movie could not prevail over hundreds of comic books." (emphasis original)
and
"Charles [a twelve year old male prostitute] read comic books...about ten or fifteen a week, about two a day."
Let me get this straight. Prostitutes read comic books. Therefore, comic books cause prostitution? Call the Department of Homeland Security! Drinking water causes terrorism!
"There are quite a number of obscure stores where children congregate, often in the back rooms, to read and buy secondhand comic books. The proprietors usually permit the children to spend a lot of time in their establishments and to pore over the comic books. In some parts of cities, men hang around these stores which are sometimes foci of childhood prostitution. Evidently comic books prepare the little girls well." (emphasis original)
Wait, what? Comic book stores are foci of child prostitution? Since there's no documentation for this in the article, I'm going to assume he's making it up. On the other hand, shut down the playgrounds and the elementary schools. Children congregating and having fun leads to pedophilia and prostitution!
"On an educational page in the same book [the Black Cat] gives good advice for violence as instruction for self-defense: Swing the upper part of your body forward while slamming the edge of your left hand against his larynx. The impact will knock him down. At least!"
So what, women are supposed to lie there and scream suggestively as men tie them up and fantasize about them? Shouldn't it be good that someone in comics is fighting against this tide of male depravity? No? We actually prefer our women docile? No shit.
--end PSA--
No, really. Check it out here, especially Chapter Seven: Seduction of the Innocent.
Moral outrage aside, this really reminds me of Reefer Madness. Reefer is more addictive than heroin! It will make you into a murderer! A cannibal murderer! A cannibal rapist murderer!! Who will bite our children and turn them gay. GAY AND LIBERAL.
That said: Even I, who love to see the GAY everywhere, know that Bruce Wayne is not a crazy gay pedophile. I know that, while possibly damaging to the perception of how women handle danger, seeing Lois Lane chained to yet another pole will not turn me into a lesbian submissive. The X Men do not live in a crazy hippie free love commune. They're just superheroes, guys.
Some favorite quotes: "One of the stock mental aphrodisiacs in comic books is to draw girls' breasts in such a way that they are sexually exciting. Wherever possible they protrude and obtrude." (emphasis original)
Firstly, if you're a 12 year old boy, how is it possible to draw breasts so they aren't sexually exciting? Secondly, if you have breasts, you know how they protrude. They're convex. It happens. If you're trying to draw an anatomically correct woman, her breasts will protrude as opposed to extending concavely into her chest. On the other hand, women and men are both drawn exaggeratedly sexually in comics. No denying that. But the dudes all seem to have invisible penises--maybe from steroids? That'd be a good story line...
"There are men who have a desire to see undressed girls tied to posts or with their hands bound behind their backs or above their heads, or confined in chains...American children are given every opportunity to develop these psychopathic tendencies."
So light bondage is psychopathic now? No, liking the idea of light bondage is psychopathic. Lock up 3/4 of all men!
"A boy from a well-to-do family was referred to me...he and three other boys used to go to a candy store in the neighborhood where they ate ice cream cones, bought comic books, and talked big. One evening...they drove...to Broadway. [this passage is wordy] There they picked up a young prostitute and took her to the home of one of the boys whose parents were away. Two of them had intercourse with her and various sexual experiments were tried out, the girl being very co-operative. They paid her five dollars each. After that, all four went out with her int he car to drive her back to Broadway as they had promised. On the way...[t]hey stopped the car, pounced upon the girl and while one held her forcibly around the neck the others beat her unmercifully about the face and body. They went through her handbag and took out all her money...Then they left her at a subway station, with just enough money to pay her fare. This is comic-book stuff."
No, it's really not. It's proof that comic books are the old "violent video games" argument. These kids blamed their actions on video games. One of their mothers wrote in to Penny Arcade, a web comic devoted to games, violent and otherwise, basically (if you don't want to read her long letter) apologizing, saying the kid was a manipulative little shit who said the right thing at the right time to get himself out of trouble.
"Some of the ordinary comics have illustrations revealing crude sexual details if you look at them in a certain way."
All I have to say about that is if you want to play "find the vag" you'll have plenty of fodder for it. Vaginas, like the GAY, are everywhere.
"[A pre-pubescent prostitute] read about twenty comic books a day. Some of them she read over three or four times. After she saw the Sister Kenny movie she formed the ideal of becoming a nurse who cures the people. But one good movie could not prevail over hundreds of comic books." (emphasis original)
and
"Charles [a twelve year old male prostitute] read comic books...about ten or fifteen a week, about two a day."
Let me get this straight. Prostitutes read comic books. Therefore, comic books cause prostitution? Call the Department of Homeland Security! Drinking water causes terrorism!
"There are quite a number of obscure stores where children congregate, often in the back rooms, to read and buy secondhand comic books. The proprietors usually permit the children to spend a lot of time in their establishments and to pore over the comic books. In some parts of cities, men hang around these stores which are sometimes foci of childhood prostitution. Evidently comic books prepare the little girls well." (emphasis original)
Wait, what? Comic book stores are foci of child prostitution? Since there's no documentation for this in the article, I'm going to assume he's making it up. On the other hand, shut down the playgrounds and the elementary schools. Children congregating and having fun leads to pedophilia and prostitution!
"On an educational page in the same book [the Black Cat] gives good advice for violence as instruction for self-defense: Swing the upper part of your body forward while slamming the edge of your left hand against his larynx. The impact will knock him down. At least!"
So what, women are supposed to lie there and scream suggestively as men tie them up and fantasize about them? Shouldn't it be good that someone in comics is fighting against this tide of male depravity? No? We actually prefer our women docile? No shit.
05 March 2007
Where's the Tylenol?
So you know in Christmas Vacation, where Chevy Chase goes absolutely batshit near the end and spews a minute and a half of inventive bile without taking a breath before concluding "Hallelujah, holy shit!" That's how I feel right now. Hallelujah, holy shit.
I have a roommate about whom I am tremendously excited. We'll be moving in together in July, I think.
My mother informed me a couple weekends ago that she's totally ready for me to get engaged and married. I told her thanks, I'd actually picked up on that. While it's flattering in a way that my mother thinks I'm that mature, I know I'm not ready yet, and my mom has a way of getting her way whether I want it or not. I'm holding firm on this.
I'm not ready because there are still things I need to do for me right now. I need to get my doctorate. I need to move out on my own. I need to know that I can financially support myself. Mostly, I need a few more years of completely selfish living. I'm not ready to become a "we" yet. I'm still an "I."
I have a roommate about whom I am tremendously excited. We'll be moving in together in July, I think.
My mother informed me a couple weekends ago that she's totally ready for me to get engaged and married. I told her thanks, I'd actually picked up on that. While it's flattering in a way that my mother thinks I'm that mature, I know I'm not ready yet, and my mom has a way of getting her way whether I want it or not. I'm holding firm on this.
I'm not ready because there are still things I need to do for me right now. I need to get my doctorate. I need to move out on my own. I need to know that I can financially support myself. Mostly, I need a few more years of completely selfish living. I'm not ready to become a "we" yet. I'm still an "I."
04 March 2007
100 things about me
1) I have no conception of my actual body size.
2) I wish that the entire chick lit genre had ended with Bridget Jones.
3) I hate to run, but I do it anyway because it keeps me thin.
4) I have an addiction to text. I read compulsively, every day.
5) I love to bake and cook.
6) I clean and tidy obsessively when I'm stressed.
7) I hate folding laundry. As far as I'm concerned, when it goes in the dryer, it's done.
8) While I love to bake, I rarely like eating what I've baked. I feel that if I brought it this far, someone else should eat it.
9) I am afraid of almost nothing concrete.
10) I am very afraid of things that lurk in my brain, sometimes.
11) I can knit, crochet, and sew.
12) I prefer caramel and marshmallow to chocolate.
13) I have an extreme need for fruit, daily.
14) My superpower is always knowing where things are.
15) Water will always be my drink of choice,
16) but if I'm in a bar, I drink amaretto sours and a variety of girly cocktails.
17) You'd never guess from my alcohol preferences, but I'm very sensitive to sugar in drinks; if it's too sweet, I don't like it.
18) I'm also super sensitive to caffeine, which is why I almost always drink decaf
19) I love bright colors.
20) I have many, many opinions which I share with little provocation.
21) I am aware that many people don't like me. Can't win them all.
22) If I don't know you, like you, or care about you, you will never be able to ruffle my confidence.
23) Some might call me arrogant. I might agree,
24) but I'd rather be arrogant than full of false humility.
25) I have been in love twice.
26) I almost always know what I want and how I'm going to get it
27) and times when I don't are very disturbing for me.
28) I make time for eight hours of sleep almost every night
29) which is why I think I don't get sick very often,
30) but when I do, I am a total whiny baby and I pity anyone who's around me.
31) I believe firmly that I am in control of my life and that if it sucks, it is my job to fix it.
32) Lolita is my favorite book.
33) I recite poetry to myself when I am upset, sick, or scared.
34) I am becoming the kind of person my mother wants me to marry.
35) I love amusement parks and rollercoasters, the faster and higher the better,
36) and I don't care if that makes me white trash.
37) I love people who drive pickups,
38) fried bologna sandwiches,
39) and I am not ashamed of being a country girl.
40) Warm homemade tapioca pudding is the ultimate comfort food.
41) I'm the girl in the english/theater class who brings up the feminist, homosexual, and/or sexual themes in whatever you're reading.
42) When I was younger, I would have made an excellent ecoterrorist.
43) Thankfully, I have mellowed as I've grown, but I still want to drive a hybrid.
44) That said, I'm not a kneejerk liberal. I'm not really a kneejerk anything.
45) I am, however, firmly pro-choice
46) even though I'm adopted.
47) I didn't really live in my body until I started rock climbing and yoga.
48) I am much stronger than I look, and a little less strong than I think I am.
49) My personal strength comes from being my own biggest cheerleader.
50) Like nearly every other English-reading woman on the face of the earth, I love Pride and Prejudice.
51) I feel guilty for not wanting to be a doctor.
52) I am learning, slowly, that cynicism is not reality,
53) but I still don't believe in true love.
54) I donate blood whenever I can.
55) I prefer Superman to Batman, which is out of character for me
56) because usually I prefer literature dark and twisty.
57) I rely on wit and charm a little too much sometimes.
58) The most formative books of my childhood were The Chronicles of Narnia, Anne of Green Gables, (and others in the series) various and sundry fractured fairy tales, and Gone With the Wind.
59) If I could change one thing about myself, I would have a better singing voice.
60) I am not a strict recipe follower. I am a constant tinkerer.
61) Music is not a large part of my life,
62) which is odd because in high school I was all about music.
63) I own a third-generation iPod because I hate the click wheel.
64) I dance while I'm on the elliptical. I suspect I sing as well.
65) I am much more like my father than my mother.
66) I crave cheese more than any other food, trailed by potato chips.
67) I never drink soda.
68) In fact, I steer clear of most prepackaged foods and drinks.
69) I can count in both base 10 and binary on my fingers.
70) I am capable of functioning as a normal human being and as a complete and total nerd.
71) I love precise language.
72) Two of my personal heroes are Christopher Reeve and Jane Goodall.
73) I love chemistry, so much that if I had college to do over, I'd probably major in it,
74) but I don't regret choosing physics.
75) I could never be a vegetarian.
76) Flavors that will sell me on a particular dish are ginger, raspberry, and carrot.
77) I love soup. Especially non-clear soups.
78) The first place I sweat when I am overheated is the bridge of my nose.
79) I prefer Katherine Hepburn to Audrey.
80) I don't color enough. It's very theraputic.
81) I binge on celery when I'm angry. The crunch is satisfying.
82) I wish I could count cards.
83) I love sushi.
84) I feel at home in many places other than where I live.
85) I never wear gold, or gold-colored metals.
86) A large vocabulary and good grammar go a long ways towards winning me over.
87) That said, I'm now dating the least articulate man I've ever dated, and we're doing just fine.
88) If I'm wearing flats, I'm either on my way to the gym or trying for the fourth or fifth time to learn to walk like a normal person.
89) I never wear sweatpants in public unless I'm on my way to the gym.
90) I own a vibrator.
91) I also own something like nine or ten different perfumes. I wear three on a regular basis.
92) I'd rather buy books than clothing.
93) If I cook for you, you're doing the dishes.
94) I'm remarkably handy about the house, due to working in a lot of labs.
95) I can't barbeque. That's a man's job.
96) I used to collect paint samples from home improvement stores.
97) I send lots of thank yous.
98) I can use chopsticks, and I prefer them to forks sometimes.
99) I cannot stomach mint-flavored liquor.
100) I substitute cottage cheese for sour cream on baked potatoes and with salsa.
2) I wish that the entire chick lit genre had ended with Bridget Jones.
3) I hate to run, but I do it anyway because it keeps me thin.
4) I have an addiction to text. I read compulsively, every day.
5) I love to bake and cook.
6) I clean and tidy obsessively when I'm stressed.
7) I hate folding laundry. As far as I'm concerned, when it goes in the dryer, it's done.
8) While I love to bake, I rarely like eating what I've baked. I feel that if I brought it this far, someone else should eat it.
9) I am afraid of almost nothing concrete.
10) I am very afraid of things that lurk in my brain, sometimes.
11) I can knit, crochet, and sew.
12) I prefer caramel and marshmallow to chocolate.
13) I have an extreme need for fruit, daily.
14) My superpower is always knowing where things are.
15) Water will always be my drink of choice,
16) but if I'm in a bar, I drink amaretto sours and a variety of girly cocktails.
17) You'd never guess from my alcohol preferences, but I'm very sensitive to sugar in drinks; if it's too sweet, I don't like it.
18) I'm also super sensitive to caffeine, which is why I almost always drink decaf
19) I love bright colors.
20) I have many, many opinions which I share with little provocation.
21) I am aware that many people don't like me. Can't win them all.
22) If I don't know you, like you, or care about you, you will never be able to ruffle my confidence.
23) Some might call me arrogant. I might agree,
24) but I'd rather be arrogant than full of false humility.
25) I have been in love twice.
26) I almost always know what I want and how I'm going to get it
27) and times when I don't are very disturbing for me.
28) I make time for eight hours of sleep almost every night
29) which is why I think I don't get sick very often,
30) but when I do, I am a total whiny baby and I pity anyone who's around me.
31) I believe firmly that I am in control of my life and that if it sucks, it is my job to fix it.
32) Lolita is my favorite book.
33) I recite poetry to myself when I am upset, sick, or scared.
34) I am becoming the kind of person my mother wants me to marry.
35) I love amusement parks and rollercoasters, the faster and higher the better,
36) and I don't care if that makes me white trash.
37) I love people who drive pickups,
38) fried bologna sandwiches,
39) and I am not ashamed of being a country girl.
40) Warm homemade tapioca pudding is the ultimate comfort food.
41) I'm the girl in the english/theater class who brings up the feminist, homosexual, and/or sexual themes in whatever you're reading.
42) When I was younger, I would have made an excellent ecoterrorist.
43) Thankfully, I have mellowed as I've grown, but I still want to drive a hybrid.
44) That said, I'm not a kneejerk liberal. I'm not really a kneejerk anything.
45) I am, however, firmly pro-choice
46) even though I'm adopted.
47) I didn't really live in my body until I started rock climbing and yoga.
48) I am much stronger than I look, and a little less strong than I think I am.
49) My personal strength comes from being my own biggest cheerleader.
50) Like nearly every other English-reading woman on the face of the earth, I love Pride and Prejudice.
51) I feel guilty for not wanting to be a doctor.
52) I am learning, slowly, that cynicism is not reality,
53) but I still don't believe in true love.
54) I donate blood whenever I can.
55) I prefer Superman to Batman, which is out of character for me
56) because usually I prefer literature dark and twisty.
57) I rely on wit and charm a little too much sometimes.
58) The most formative books of my childhood were The Chronicles of Narnia, Anne of Green Gables, (and others in the series) various and sundry fractured fairy tales, and Gone With the Wind.
59) If I could change one thing about myself, I would have a better singing voice.
60) I am not a strict recipe follower. I am a constant tinkerer.
61) Music is not a large part of my life,
62) which is odd because in high school I was all about music.
63) I own a third-generation iPod because I hate the click wheel.
64) I dance while I'm on the elliptical. I suspect I sing as well.
65) I am much more like my father than my mother.
66) I crave cheese more than any other food, trailed by potato chips.
67) I never drink soda.
68) In fact, I steer clear of most prepackaged foods and drinks.
69) I can count in both base 10 and binary on my fingers.
70) I am capable of functioning as a normal human being and as a complete and total nerd.
71) I love precise language.
72) Two of my personal heroes are Christopher Reeve and Jane Goodall.
73) I love chemistry, so much that if I had college to do over, I'd probably major in it,
74) but I don't regret choosing physics.
75) I could never be a vegetarian.
76) Flavors that will sell me on a particular dish are ginger, raspberry, and carrot.
77) I love soup. Especially non-clear soups.
78) The first place I sweat when I am overheated is the bridge of my nose.
79) I prefer Katherine Hepburn to Audrey.
80) I don't color enough. It's very theraputic.
81) I binge on celery when I'm angry. The crunch is satisfying.
82) I wish I could count cards.
83) I love sushi.
84) I feel at home in many places other than where I live.
85) I never wear gold, or gold-colored metals.
86) A large vocabulary and good grammar go a long ways towards winning me over.
87) That said, I'm now dating the least articulate man I've ever dated, and we're doing just fine.
88) If I'm wearing flats, I'm either on my way to the gym or trying for the fourth or fifth time to learn to walk like a normal person.
89) I never wear sweatpants in public unless I'm on my way to the gym.
90) I own a vibrator.
91) I also own something like nine or ten different perfumes. I wear three on a regular basis.
92) I'd rather buy books than clothing.
93) If I cook for you, you're doing the dishes.
94) I'm remarkably handy about the house, due to working in a lot of labs.
95) I can't barbeque. That's a man's job.
96) I used to collect paint samples from home improvement stores.
97) I send lots of thank yous.
98) I can use chopsticks, and I prefer them to forks sometimes.
99) I cannot stomach mint-flavored liquor.
100) I substitute cottage cheese for sour cream on baked potatoes and with salsa.
The Benefits of Being Sick
I was sick this weekend, and as a result, these two days have stretched out to infinity. Not in a bad way, but in a "I have little work to do and no desire to do it, so I'm going to lie on the couch and watch the Food Network all day" sort of way. And let me tell you, nothing makes you feel better like having one entirely lazy day.
Now that my energy level has returned to normal, I can't believe how not burnt out I feel. I've actually done my homework for a class I detest more than an hour before. I'm waiting on an email for my other class, so I might just bake up a batch of cookies. If anyone wants some, let me know!
Now that my energy level has returned to normal, I can't believe how not burnt out I feel. I've actually done my homework for a class I detest more than an hour before. I'm waiting on an email for my other class, so I might just bake up a batch of cookies. If anyone wants some, let me know!
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