The World Around Us

As I sit on campus and look around, I can't help but laugh... I know it makes some people feel uncomfortable, but human tendencies are just too funny, it's just too much to resist. For example: 


- Quaint sneezes from 200+ lbs men. 
- When those with big noses cover them while talking.
- Those couples that... just... can't... let go. (for an hour and 15 minutes)
- The guy that never grew out of the awkward, junior high phase of walking/running who is now sprinting down the main hallway. 
- When no one laughs at someone who, evidently said something witty, laughs at their own joke for at least 3-5 seconds after staking their claim. 
- Untouchable English professors either spelling something wrong or using incorrect semantics.
- Contradictory statements. Said by the same person.  
- Anything followed up with, "I could be wrong, I don't know everyone in the Universe."
- The girl that you've never spoken to, before, and have no idea who she is, and yet, she waves to you every time you pass one another. 






Other things, however, make me question the world we live in: 


- When someone openly admits that they "like to live in fear but is afraid of fear."
- Or when another proudly claims that they are "intentionally naiveté".
- A public refusal to love another human being, or care, even in the slightest. 
- When people laugh at another's suffering.
- A sense of desperation, so strong, that one feels as though they are forced to break the law in order to meet basic needs. 
- Watching the realization that they can make a difference sweep across a face... then never acting upon the feeling. 

Denial - The Next Happiest Place on Earth.

"I've got a perfect body, though sometimes I forget. I've got a perfect body because my eyelashes catch the sweat."

 

Herumph. I feel like... I need to blog. Like, actually blog. Not because I necessarily have anything profound to say or because I just went through some spectacular experience that really needs to be recorded (although my birthday celebrations were pretty epic, and probably deserve a post)... I just feel... this craving for one. It's times like these that make me question if I'm not as big of a freak as the other 7th graders made me feel like, back in junior high. I swear to you, I'm not normal, probably ought to be medicated, and am just sort of... wandering... down this path of life. Anyways, I think I'm going to post in series of bullets, which, if I had to guess, are going to turn out to be some sort of maniacal version of free association. In other words, my posts are usually pretty obscure/off-the-wall... but this one is destined to put the others to shame. Just saying (warning).

• I've always thought red-heads were really pretty... but recently, there has been this strange obsession with them that I just don't understand. Like, if a girl with an average face is naturally a red-head, BAM! That girl is hotttttt. I'm not even kidding, it always plays out like that. Or, better yet, if she can be called generally pretty and has red hair? Oh my pants, that girl is... like... STUNNING. Not that I have a problem with this, I understand that I'm pretty average in every way, shape, and form (outside of my height, which still isn't that different) and am not calling for any undeserved attention for my oh so common brown hair. I would, however, like to pose a question: are red-heads so appreciated, recently, because of this whole 'indie' kick that the world has been addicted to, recently? Because we've begun embrassing the subversive, again? Or is it because diversity is so widely celebrated, now, that caucasians are starting to feel left out and are trying to find a reason to celebrate their own blandness, now? Either way, I kind of feel like red-heads are getting the short-end of the stick -- no one is looking to them for their personalities, just their super hot heads (no pun intended). Well, hot heads first, big personalities second?
• Also, why can't we celebrate having small, flat, colorless butts? Why is a bubble-butt so appealing? I'd like to think that the little miniature that I'm packing around behind me, all day long, can be loved as well, just like it is.
• As much as I love indie stuff, I'm really, really getting sick of indie kids. In all honesty, they've become the new brunt of all of my jokes... And I'm loving every second of it. :) I know, whatever, I'm a terrible person. Judge away. But next time you're around, and I make a "oh, I'm only doing this to be indie" joke, and you laugh, just think back to that one time when you read my blog and judged me for being a cynic... 
• I really dig the keyboards on Macs. I also really dig Macs, just in general. 
• I'm increasingly worried, each day, that I'm a product of my society and that's about it. But then, I start thinking about it, and I start worrying even more when I realize that I'm nothing like what the society I was raised in projected me to be. Well, not exactly nothing, I guess... but not at all like what my parents expected me to be like, that's for sure... and the rest of my family, as well, on that note. I spent this past week in NY, hanging out with the fam every day, and realized just how much of a peculiarity I really am. Maybe I'm giving myself too much credit, but when I stepped into that restaurant, the first night, in a light gray cardigan, oxford blue button-up, and skinny jeans, with zipper flats, it was fairly safe to say that I. Stuck. Out. Which is fine, it's pretty apparent that Upstate isn't exactly the most trend-friendly place on earth... but then, I come back to Utah, and I still don't fit in, entirely. Maybe I'm looking in all of the wrong places for acceptance, who knows. I've dealt with this problem from the first time I remember -- I couldn't have other little girls in the neighborhood play Barbies with me, they simply couldn't follow the sardonic plotlines I'd set up -- and I thought, for sure, after junior high, I'd find that group I belong to... okay, once I'm out of high school, I find it. Aaaaalright, maybe college will do the trick? Wow, umm, I'm fitting in more than ever, but still not as much as the ordinary college student? Perhaps this is my cross to bear, in life -- no one ever entirely understands me. I'll admit, some get awfully close, but never quite all the way. Which brings me to my next point.
• I'm an oddity, I recognize the fact, please don't act like I'm completely transparent. And just about as understandable as a third grade-reading-level novel. I'm not, I promise. Half the time, those that assume such things are way, way off the mark, I'm sorry to report. And yes, sometimes, you've got me pinned. I'll admit to that, my pride has room to adjust.
• I've fallen in love with someone just as twisted as myself... and I love him for it. It's incredible, we're such freaks, it makes life that much more sunny. (There's not a shred of sarcasm in that last statement, I'm being serious. The fact that we're both so weird really does warm my heart.) I am worried, however, about our children. I've posted, before, about the idea of raising them to stay within the bounds of social norms and whether or not it's healthy... but I just don't know. Subject them to the same awkward moments as I grew up with? Or rear them to be that douchebag baseball player that everyone secretly hates but outwardly adores because they're just so cooooool with their $300 jeans and ridiculous, logo-covered hats that they've left the stickers on? I'm so curious as to how my kids turn out, I won't lie. Maybe you should all start praying for them now. Just in-case. 
• Perhaps this is way off base... Maybe there's not a shred of truth to it at all, but men are jerks. No, just ignorant, which, coincidentally, makes them jerks. Really, really dense jerks. I'm tired of girls crying about what a guy did or didn't do... I'm tired of being ignored or pushed to the side... and above all, I'm tired of the world thinking that feminist and equality issues have been beaten to death and are merely things of the past, now - NOT TRUE! Again, ignorance.
• Call me crazy, but I hate overly-gentlemen-like men. They gag me. You gag me. Again, equality. I can step over a puddle without you lifting me over it, first. Thanks, but no thanks. Oh, and that door up ahead? I can open it, I've been working out, recently. I can max-out with ten pound weights, now. That's right, this girl is in the big leagues.
• If you've just celebrated your 45th birthday, maybe it's time to stop wearing your daugther's Volcom t-shirts? Just a suggestion, you don't have to take my word for it. 
• As much as I love adventure and all it entails, I have the most obscure phobias. 
• I spotted this guy, last year, on UVU's campus, as I was talking to my sister... He had beautiful strawberry blonde, curly hair and this really quirky style of dressing. If I had any sort of stuffing, I probably would have found a reason to talk to him, but I don't, so I didn't. But the image of him walking past really stuck with me, for a long time... There was this really poetic moment of him walking past the big windows in the library, the sunlight streaming in, highlighting the individual curls, almost as if they were begging me to play with them, wrap them around my finger (much like his heart) - in other words, Whitman would have been proud with the feelings it stirred up. Anyways, I didn't see him around for months, and yet, he stuck with me, I couldn't figure out why... I mean, you see hundreds of different people each day, you know? Most of which, you forget... Well, long story short, after months of not seeing him again, I did. And then I did again. And again. And again. And now he frigging pops up everywhere. As a matter of fact, as I turned my head, a moment ago, for another bullet point, he was sitting less than 50 feet away, talking to some plastic, yet indie (let's not forget that - that makes them artistic after all) girls that probably spent more time getting ready this morning than I have all week. Not that I think he's my EC (eternal companion) or that we're even meant to be friends, for whatever reason, he just makes me wonder if someone else, anyone else, has had a similar experience? Where there was this picturesque second where they saw a complete stranger in which the foreigner became the muse to a new, flowing poem that was never written down on anything but their heart? Have I ever inspired that sort of thing?? Dang, now I feel like I need to start getting ready in the mornings. It seems like that's my only means of hope to accomplishing said feat. Hahaha
• Update to my theory class: Deconstructionalist theory is probably my favorite, thus far. Yes, it's fairly... destructive... and yes, it can invalidate you as a reader... but my goodness, it's fascinating. And realistic. Yeah, it's pretty great. My major is pretty great, I won't lie. :)
• Everyone has been counting down and/or asking when Ben is getting home, so here you go: 
• He is home on April 14th.
• I have no idea when he flies in. Or when he's set apart.
• No, I'm not going to the airport -- I wouldn't be caught dead, there.
• Yes, I'm allowing him to come to me, here in Provo. I can be patient when it really counts. :)
• As of today, he is home in 21 days.
• Yes I'm terrified, no I'm not getting "so excited", and yes, this whole thing makes me want to throw up. There are way too many emotions attached to be healthy.
• Yes, you guessed it, I'll probably cry when I first see him, again.
• Yes, we still write, are on good terms, and still exchange the "L-word" ... And mean it. :)

Okay, I'm finally done. Congrats on making it through. I have a gold sticker, for you, whenever you want to come over and get it.

Dating Questionaire

Researcher: How often, would you say, that you are rejected by men?


Woman: What? Where'd that come from? Do I look like a person to get rejected a lot to you, or somethin'?


Researcher: No, ma'am. Please, just answer the question.


Woman: Do I get rejected a lot? Nah... Nah, I can definitively say, 'Nah,' I don't. I don't get rejected...


(Pause)


Woman: Okay, well.. Yeah, I do, on occassion, but doesn't everyone? I mean, I'm not God, or something... Or even Tyra, for that mattuh! (Snorts while giggling)


Researcher: Shall we move onto the next question? Are you satisfied with your last response?


Woman: Should I not be? Do I not sound like I'm being honest? (Getting flustered) Okay, yeah, I'm not really the dating type, big deal! But that don't automatically mean that I get rejected... You know, I'm attractive... I can get a date - if I really want to! Yeah... Yeah, I can.


(Another pause)


Woman: Alright, I get rejected more than I get asked out, happy? My mutha says I come on too strong, whateva. I still get asked out, I'll have you know.


Researcher: Ma'am? Shall we move onto the next question?


Woman: (Growing increasingly frustrated) Okay, what kind of a timeline are we talkin' about, here? I mean, if you're talkin' about... say... the last three years, yeah, I haven't really been datin', you know? These things happen! But before that? Yeah, yeah I was a dating machine! A sex kitten, if you know what I mean. (More laughter and then a pause) Alright, no, I don't date. Alright? You happy? You dragged it outta me, got what you wanted. Can we move on, now??


Researcher: Of course, ma'am. Let's move to the next question.


Woman: (Breathing out heavily while rolling eyes) Thank you. Finally.

Welcome to Eternity.

How do you tell a child, 
"You'll never see him again..."
And make them understand? 
Is there a way to decipher 
Good tears from bad? 
Can you know that at such a young age? 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHZCAcSh7ls

Break that norm

As taught in psychology, society dictates our daughters to be sweet, soft, innocent - feminine. Well, at least what they define feminine as. And if that's not what you are? ... You'll probably be titled as 'different', maybe as a 'tom-boy', sometimes even something a bit more piercing like 'dike' or 'lesbian'. Growing up outside of societal norms is tough going, usually damaging to the girl's self-esteem and paradigms of the world, and more often than not, inhibits her from reaching the point of self-actualization.

I began thinking, though... Women and girls, alike, who choose this lifestyle for themselves are typically and universally rejected... but what about the mothers who such behavior? Is there such a thing? Are these mothers persecuted as well? Above all, though, is it healthy to want your daughters to be this way?

As I watched a Tegan and Sara music video, where one of the girls is psychoanalyzed to the point of drowning, in the end, I started to question how I really wanted my daughters to turn out, in life. For those of you who don't know, Tegan and Sara are twin sisters who are both lesbians (not together) and have formed the self-titled group, "Tegan and Sara". They're both pretty liberal and fairly masculine in appearance... but I love it/them.

I never thought I'd want any of my children to be anything but what they really were, which, without consideration automatically registers as fulfilling the gender role they're handed at birth. Tonight, though, after watching that video, I realized: I don't want my kids, especially my daughters, to feel anything but the truth. Above all, the truth held in their hearts, the real them. If this means they're a frilly ballerina decorated head-to-toe in pink or a basketball star who only wears jersey shorts, so be it. If they want to shave their hair into overgrown mullets like Tegan and Sara, I guess I'm okay with that, too. Is that wrong of me? To cognitively allow my children to be something that society will most likely reject, quite possibly sentencing them to a life of constant berating by those around them? Or would it be better to force them into a life of silent suffering, much like the women of every generation since the beginning of time? Is there a greater evil, a better rather than a best? Am I under moral obligation to steer my children down a path society chose for them?

Weight of It All

by Matt Nathanson


i'm weak when you miss me
when you roll me on your tongue..
when you whisper me your best moves
i almost believe you
but you don't know me at all

i'm covered by lovers,
who recite lines
convinced their bodies
are gonna save mine
but you don't know me at all..

show me where the sun comes through the sky
i'll show you where the rain gets in
and i'll show you hurricanes
and the way that summer fades
underneath the weight of it all
...the weight of it all


i spent days stupid nailed to your floor
and i spent nights pushed against you, baby
trying to keep warm
but you don't know me at all.

show me where the sun comes through the sky
i'll show you where the rain gets in
and i'll show you hurricanes
and the way that summer fades
underneath the weight of it all

show me where the sun comes through the sky
i'll show you where the rain gets in
and i'll show you hurricanes
and the way that summer fades...
underneath the weight of it all

...show me,
show me where the sun comes through the sky
i'll show you where the rain gets in
and i'll show you hurricanes
and the way that summer fades

so you can pick me up just to put me down again

underneath the weight of it all
...the weight of it all

Centripetal Force

Lying limp, washed up 
Sitting on the sink's side
Soiled from repetitive use... 
Destroyed through time. 


Corners are fraying,
Threadbare and discolored
Evidence of habitual scrubbing centered,
Framing the core.


It's about time, now, they say
Eyes large and hollow
Time to replace that old thing... 
It's done, the interim ended.
No regret, there, no regret in eyes wide open
Shutters drawn so tightly
No regret... only disdain, disregard.


Washed up and used, 
Tribulation illustrated through 
The patchy thread-work... 
Purpose seemingly gone and tired 
Pay no heed, they mean no harm. 
They know not what they do. 

Lemon Drops

How is it that one group of people can entirely steal refracted light? 

Pretty greedy, Gays, pretty greedy. 

- Demitri Martin