Alcohol

THINGS THAT ARE DIFFICULT TO SAY WHEN DRUNK: 1. Innovative 2. Preliminary 3. Proliferation 4. Cinnamon THINGS THAT ARE VERY DIFFICULT TO SAY WHEN DRUNK: 1. Specificity 2. British Constitution 3. Passive-aggressive disorder THINGS THAT ARE DOWNRIGHT IMPOSSIBLE TO SAY WHEN DRUNK: 1. Thanks, but I don't want to have sex. 2. Nope, no more beer for me. 3. Sorry, but you're not really my type. 4. Good evening, officer. Isn't it lovely out tonight? 5. Oh, I couldn't. No one wants to hear me sing.

Further proof that nothing good happens after 2 a.m.

    The problem with being a night owl besides the fact that I'm usually alone is the fact that during the night when there aren't many distractions, I find myself thinking. Now, this might not be a problem for most people, but then most people don't fixate and repress their emotions like yours truly. They also probably aren't as obsessive. For instance, I'm the type to have all her ducks in a row. Especially when it comes to my future career plans. I can't just coast expecting something to pop up. I need to know whats coming around the bend in a year. So that's one of the reasons I'm freezing my butt off at 3 am in my gran's kitchen in Lubbock freakin texas. I can't seem to figure out what I want to do with my life.     And its driving me insane.    Another thing that is bothering me on this chilly night is the assassination of Bhutto, one of the biggest American Allies in the world. I worry that this is such a bad turn for Americans as well as the Pakistanis and i know that we will definitely feel the repercussions of this sad state of events. I feel sad for a woman who had lead such an epic life. I had such respect for a woman that would challenge that level of chauvinism as well as the terrorists.    I just wish I had the answers. When I lived here, I thought I had all the answers and everything was going to be easy. Furthermore, now I feel ashamed of the fact that in my inner most hearts I am looking down my nose at most of these people. I have becomed all the things that I would hate about them, judgemental and closeminded. I look at these good, salt of the earth people, with their kind hearts and loving souls and I know that even though I realize these things, I feel like any number of them are idiots. I'm ashamed because I sneer at these people I know and love whose entire goals in life is to get married and be a teacher. How can I sneer at this when my own mother is a teacher and I believe that it is the most noble profession? I guess I believe that I have transcended West Texas and its citizens. I look at these girls who are so in love with the idea of love and marriage, who plan their weddings to the smallest detail and I want to smack the living hell out of them. I want to be like, "don't you know how much potential you have?" or "why are you settling for so little?" I cannot fathom a world composed of sports, religion and some mediocre teaching career. I don't understand why they believe the most important day of their lives will be their wedding day. Whatever happened to ambition or finding happiness within ones self? Theirs a reason why there is such a high divorce rate for my generation (85%). Its these stupid kids seeing the hearts and flowers and not the rough road ahead of them. I worry that these girls will look back and wonder what they could have been if they hadn't shackled themselves to the first boy they ever fell in love with and settled for teaching in some small town in the middle of nowhere. I shudder at the images that compose these girl's nirvana.    Which brings up another point. My mom told me that my Grandmother is worried about me. She's worried that when she passes on, I won't be able to handle it. And she's right. When I went to college, I went into an incredibly huge abyss of anguish. I can't imagine losing my grandmother. I only have her and my mother.    When you're an only child, you start noticing that their are only a few people in your sphere that are truly your world. For me it was always my mother, my papa, my granny, and erratically my father. My papa died when I was 15 and I'm realizing that i might only have ten years or less until I am completely alone. Just the thought scares me more than I can put into words and to tell the truth, I think I might go insane living in some strange city all by myself. I've always had such a close relationship with my mother and it terrifies me to lose her. So much in fact I've selfishly thought that it would be easier on me to go first, just so I would never be alone. It would kill them. Literally shatter my mother. But I would never be alone.    I never want to get married. I look at all the marriages around me and while you never really know whats between two people, I never want to have the relationships that my family have. Whether its being emotionally dominated by your husband or being so needy that you can't cope, I think I would rather be alone.    I'm scared. I am scared for the future of the world and democracy. I'm scared of the future in itself and my total lack of vision. i'm scared that there is some vital piece that all these girls know and that I am missing. I'm mostly scared of being completely alone and in the cold. I'm so terrified about things that are distantly in the future and I'm fixated on what I think may be my worst fears.    All of this, along with a few other things that have happened have proved to me that nothing good happens after two 'o clock.    I can relate one minor lesson I learned this week. At Brynn Naylor's funeral, the preacher who I have enormous respect for was talking about how he had googled brynn's name and all these wonderful comments coming up. I spent the rest of the funeral grief stricken and so sad, but afterwards it occurred to me that the odds were good that he had come across that blog entry and the rest of my slightly controversial/risque bloggery. Lesson learned? don't write anything you don't want your pastor to see. Quote of the week "Don't be too timid and squeamish about your actions. All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better" - Ralph Waldo Emerson

a couple of holiday blessings

I wish you health, I wish you wealth, and happiness galore. I wish you luck for you and friends;What could I wish you more? May your joys be as deep as the oceans, Your troubles as light as its foam. And may you find, sweet peace of mind, Were ever you may roam. -Irish Blessing If there is righteousness in the heart, there will be beauty in the character. If there is beauty in the character, there will be harmony in the home. If there is harmony in the home, there will be order in the nation. If there isorder in the nation, there will be peace in the world. So let it be. -Scottish Blessing

Merry Christmas and all that crap

I was going to write a entry on Christmas and what has happened so far in lubbock but I'm really not in the mood. Plus the really interesting stuff can't be published or ever mentioned again. lol. Look for an entry on Brynn's funeral tomorrow night or the day after. For now, its almost three and me and bryson are cooking eggs and sausage for a midnight snack. He just grabbed the wrong spice for the sausage. Lord help us. We will probably wake the whole house, but screw it. Christmas isn't so great now that Santa is dead. Merry Christmas!!! bah humbug...

Small Comforts make the time go by

   Those not familiar with the new reincarnation of Crystal (or at least this month's version) often tell me how much I've changed from when they knew me last. Its not just that most of my accent is gone or that I'm not as unstable as I once was, its just also I'm more serene. I often put this up to more self analyzation and reflection, but the truth is that I've tried to mature. Part of that is the daily things I tell myself. Some times its proverbs, often its quotes, or just small events in my life that I hold to my heart. I've discovered I need those more than ever the last few days.    George Orwell once said "People sleep peacefully at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf."    Mark Twain - “Let us endeavor so to live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry."    William Shakespeare - “So wise so young, they say, do never live long.”    David Searls - “Seeing death as the end of life is like seeing the horizon as the end of the ocean.”    Benjamin Franklin - “Our friend and we were invited aboard on a party of pleasure, which is to last forever. His chair was ready first, and he has gone before us. We could not all conveniently start together; and why should you and I be grieved at this, since we are soon to follow, and know where to find him.”    I tell myself that he died in a state of grace and that is what we should all hope for. I tell myself that perhaps he was just too good for this world. I tell myself that he died doing the greatest service to his country. And furthermore, I tell myself that it was his time.

   Yeah, none of this helps.

   I'm so angry. I'm so angry and tired. I want to raise my fist in the air and ask, why? Why do we expect young men to take the bullets and the bombs when we can't even face ourselves in the mirror? Why is there so much waste? Why did this promising young man die?    Some people can take comfort in God, in heaven, and in His mercy. I'm just hoping to find a few minutes when the weight on my shoulders in a little lighter. I can't get his face out of my head.

James Whitcomb Riley -

“I cannot say, and I will not say

That he is dead.

He is just away.

With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand,

He has wandered into an unknown land.

And left us dreaming how very fair

It needs must be since he lingers there.

And you— you, who the wildest yearn

For the old-time step and the glad return—

Think of him faring on, as dear

In the love of there as the love of here;

Think of him still as the same, I say;

He is not dead—he is just away.”

No Title

   Having previously stated the obvious many times, the obvious being that I'm am an emotional trainwreck who majors in deep contemplations and neuroses, it should come to no surprise to any of you that I am deeply saddened by the events of yesterday and I feel as if my world was shaken off its axis.    Having said that, I realize that I could wax on about my own mortality, my current existential crisis or many of the other topics that are indications of a inner conflict, self-awareness, and too much time on my hands since finals are over. I could talk about my own stress of finals and my life, going back to texas, blah blah. But its times like these that I realize my personal thoughts that I feel compelled to share with the world (which for the most part doesn't give a damn) are really just too much self analyzation and self pity. While I do want to touch on the affects of Brynn's death on my mental state and how its changed my thinking on a few things, I mainly want to think about that sweet boy I will never forget.    I couldn't sleep last night. After I found out about Brynn's death, I just couldn't seem to focus. I talked to one of my dearest friends last night and while I tried to keep up with her, the world seemed to have lost a little color. I don't know why I'm taking this so hard to tell you the truth. I didn't know Brynn that well and I wonder if he remembered me more than just one of those names and faces you know but don't really associate with anything. It's just that I keep thinking about how his mother is today, the mother that was counting on her baby boy being home in four days, the one that was buying him christmas presents and planning a holiday trip for the family because he had been in Iraq for 15 months. I keep wondering how she will ever be able to face another christmas, if brynn's brother and sister will ever be able to look at christmas with the same rosy glow. If they will ever be able to look at anything with the same rosy glow.    I keep thinking about the soldiers that had to watch their friend die in front of them. I know they were friends because Brynn was just the type of guy you had to be friends with. I think about the town of Shallowater, where I grew up, and even though Brynn left their five or six years ago, how the whole town bands together and that each on of them is taking this personally. I thank God for small towns and the people that inhabit them while I run as far as I can from them.    In truth, these thoughts did not hit me until I was getting all my laundry together. I've let my laundry go during finals and I was trying to pick out what I needed to take. It wasn't until I realized that I needed a dress for a wedding and a dress for a funeral that it hit me that one of the great tragedies of life had occurred and my main concern was a prof who hadn't gotten back to me and my laundry.    I don't know what that says about me that I can be so casual about a war. About all of us. I can support the war in Iraq, I can know that our cause is worthy and I can listen to all sides without blinking. But can you really know what war is like if you don't see a mother cry for her lost son, or see the actual fighting? This boy, this incredible, incredible, incredible boy saved my life today. He saved my freedom.    For 15 months he's been in hell so that I can go to class, so I can eat out, and drink with my friends. I didn't ever give him a thought beyond, wow, brynn's in Iraq? How interesting. And what hurts me is that I know that I should thank God everyday for what they're doing. I should do more for these strong men and women. Its not enough to have a stupid yellow ribbon on the back of the car or to thank a veteran when you see one at the airport. How can I debate the merits of Iraq, support it, and still do nothing more than arguing with some liberal? How could I ever have been so casual about the ultimate sacrifice?    Brynn Naylor had the sweetest smile I've ever seen. It wasn't just that he lit up the room with it, it was like with his happiness, he could sooth the people around them. Looking back on someone I haven't thought about in so long, I remember the way he smelled and that smile. The sound of his voice, the twang and trill of it.    I try to imagine that gentle boy I knew so long ago in a war zone, and my heart hurts. There is no other way to put it, my heart hurts. I try to tell myself that he was a hero, that his life and death meant something. That what this country is doing is just.    Today, though, none of that means anything. Today's about remembering a man that was full of potential and promise. That man was a patriot in a world where patriotism has gone out of style or is a presidential buzzword. He was more than a soundbite or a symbol. He was more than someone's son or someone's friend. He was a guardian, he was a savior, he is my hero.

Thank The Sweet Baby Jesus, FINALS ARE OVER! well, kind of.

The smile of the relieved and the pic I sent Cindy.

I still have to do one take home final, but for all intents and purposes, I'm free, free, FREEEE!

FREEEEEDDDDDOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!!

Imagine me saying that just like Mel Gibson in Braveheart, only you know, without the castration and torture thing. Ick.

Now to catch the world up on my life, because even though you don't care, I feel like making anyone stupid enough to read my crap to suffer for it. Really, what are you thinking? Don't you have better things to do? I always notice that more people write on my wall and send me messages during finals week because they get so bored or are just procrastinating. Go back to studying friend.

So anyway, the last two weeks have been one big ball of drama that I haven't seen since I was a theater major or Texas. (ah texas more about that later) The Rodeo Finals are in town so I've been spending the time I should be studying watching all the hot cowboys go into the thomas and mack, which is the big coliseum that all the stuff happens at. 15,000 people in town and you know at least 3/4ths are cowboys. Yum yum. Hopefully yours truly will drag out the ole whoredrobe, go to Stoneys next friday, and knock boots with them. (Literally knock boots by line dancing and two stepping with them, gutter mind.) {You should be ashamed, tsk tsk.}

I'm having too many christmas cocktails as well as meeting to many of my friends at bars or champagne brunchs because all the liquor is getting ridiculous. I'm not getting drunk you understand because its all spread out but my jeans are getting a tad snug. Which reminds me of my favorite study of the month, which is one that came out that says Lubbock Texas is one of the top ten drunkest cities in America. I cannot tell you the joy that flows through me at the irony. This is a city that doesn't sell hard liquor past 9, doesn't serve liquor at all past 2, and all the clubs close at 4. Not to mention you can't buy it throughout the county. Vegas didn't make it in the top 50 and we are lobbying at UNLV to get a bar on campus. I loooooovvvveee it!

Once again, I am enjoying the sixty degree weather that is the bitter cold winters of Las Vegas. Totally makes up for the 120 degree summers. I love all these people that have lived here too long and are consequently are dressed like they are going to take a trek up to the artic after their last final. Boots, a scarf, gloves, jacket, toboggan, and hoodie? Come on. On the other hand there is the girls that wear butt cheek showing shorts and uggs, because they feel the need to both look like a tramp and keep their toes warm.

I love the fact that last Wednesday, a guy dressed up like ninja, visibly creeped like a ninja all over campus an no one blinks. If any comment was made, it was along the lines of "It's vegas." Looooooovvvvveeee it!

I leave for Texas in a week and a half. As usual, this comes entailed with the usual mixed bag of feelings. I told my dear friend Felicia that Texas and I are in the middle of a terrible love affair. We love each other, but we just can't be together. This was in the middle of another long explanation about what Texas means to me. Or even what it means to be a Texan. Of course that doesn't stop them from making you say "something in Texan." You try telling people that Texan is your nationality and you are a expatriate from that fine republic and people think you are insane. But that is what it feels like to be a Texan. Even being 3 years away still leaves lingering feelings of pride. The rest of the world considers it arrogance, which it really is, but hey, we can back it up. The thing about Texas is that I'm always so happy to get there and so happy to leave. I miss my gran, bryson, and all my friends from High School, but thats not my life anymore. It all seems so surreal that I ever lived there. The whole time I'm there, I'm like, I really spent 18 years here? Really? Going there straight from Las Vegas is like coming from Mars. If everything could be more different, I don't know how. Everytime I cross that Texas border, I'm overcome with joy, annoyance, excitement, bitterness, and allergies.

This time of my life is like limbo. I have these ties to Texas, ties to Las Vegas and I'm drifting to somewhere else. If its true that home is not where you live, but where they understand you, then neither place could be considered my home. And I really don't know why I'm pondering all this at noon on a monday when I have so many things on my mind and so many things in my life. Probably because if I'm not having a quarterlife crisis, a metaphysical crisis, an existential crisis, a crisis of faith or depressed, I'm having a nervous breakdown because everything seems to be going too well. I'm beginning to define the word neurotic. lol. There might be something to the idea of being over educated. Too much self analyzation.

If you are still with me, take a breath because the following is something that will change your life.

Okay. Let's establish several facts. I'm a bitter cynic that behind a congenial nature and delicate sensibilities lies a inner abyss of rage and abhorance of mariachi bands. I do not get thrilled about much and further more, as many books as I read, literature for the most part has stopped being a pleasure and has become the suffering of every english major.

However...

I have found quite possibly the greatest book of my generation. (until I write a better one) It is quite frankly, amazing. It changed my thinking on so many things. Its called Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert and it is phenomenal. I will confess that I loved the first part set in Italy more than any other. I started crying and laughed so much in the Italy part. After that things got a little murky, but I think that is because that is where I am in my life. The book is a true story about a woman that goes to Italy, India, and Indonesia on a spiritual journey. It will change your life. It brought me closer to God and made me understand so many things.

While I warn my conservative readers that it has a few anti-Bush remarks, one can ignore her liberal bias enough to enjoy the pure pleasure of reading someone that loves writing, words, and knowledge. Its not a Christian book. Its about religion, but focuses mostly on meditation etc etc. After reading it, I called everyone the book reminded me of and told them to screw finals, go get this book and read it. It will purely transform you. You will never be the same.

That was my book review of the month, look forward to more in the coming weeks when I will have nothing to do but read.

Lastly, here are two songs that everyone needs to download now because they are awesome. For these times by Martina McBride and Devil and the Cross by Halfway to Hazard.

I know that was long, but its been like a month. Expect more in the next few days. Oh what the hell, no one read this far anyway. HAH!

Quote of the day: "Let us step out into the night and persue that flighty temptress, adventure!"~JK Rowling

James Bond

Who's the better James Bond? Pierce Brosnan? or Sean Connery? The Irishman or the Scotsman? Quite the quandary!

Friday's Pictures

After viewing the entire democratic debate, you are looking at the only American flag that was shown. The only man that wore a lapel pin, Gov. Bill Richardson of New Mexico.

D.K. PHONE HOME Dennis Kucinich has repeatedly stated that he has seen UFOs and believes America should be prepared for their revival.

Here's a Bulletin---Students at UNLV are Apathetic

Students are apathetic at UNLV. Well, Duh. I’m so tired of reading about our apathy towards important social issues. If it’s not the Yell, it’s the Review-Journal’s half page article stating an obvious conclusion. Yeah, we aren’t activists. We get it already. We don’t protest the war in Iraq, we don’t chain ourselves to buildings over global warming, and we don’t join in mass to protest the growing tuition hikes that they are trying to stick us with. Considering the incredibly large number of writers, reporters, and professors that feel the overwhelming urge to proclaim our apathy in a glaring flash of the obvious, I find it curious that no one feels the need to ponder why, beyond the fact that “we are a commuter campus.” First of all, what is the one issue that this campus has been ranting and raving about for the last five years if not more? Oh, yeah, PARKING. P-A-R-K-I-N-G. What has been done about this? Nothing. We have made our feelings known quite clearly. This has been a constant theme, perhaps the only thing that has united this campus. The Result: a worse situation than ever. Even in the reports on the debate, on every channel you had at least one student mention parking. Will it really take a sit-in or chaining ourselves to a pole in the parking lot to get results? Because I have to say, after this debate and during the Rodeo Finals, we could get a fair number. I’ve got the chains people, you got the time? (Of course, we couldn’t really do that because Free Speech zones wouldn’t allow us to protest in the parking lot. And nothing inspires student activism like a freakin’ free speech zone.) I propose that this University does not listen to students on the issues we care about and until this changes, I see no reason to beat my head against a brick wall. They are going to do what they want and they have shown repeatedly that we are merely the poor saps that get suckered into paying for it. Pardon me for not living up to the fine example of the hippies and committing vandalism (such as has been suggested as examples we should emulate) in an effort to get my voice heard. Call me an idealist, but if that’s what it takes to get something simple communicated to the Powers That Be, we have a bigger issue than student apathy. I’ve participated in politics actively before I could vote and have been in several of the groups on campus. I’ve gone to political conventions, conferences, and even attended one of the real presidential debates in 2004. So when people ask me why I’m not involved in the political atmosphere on campus, I ask: what’s the point? The University doesn’t listen to us and we get shut out of all the things we are supposed to participate in. Maybe if we thought anyone would listen or care, we would express our opinion. Give me a clue that someone would be receptive to my ideas and I’m there. Until then, I’ve got more productive things to do. Furthermore, excuse me for not getting all fired up about the debate on campus. I’ll grant you, it would be really exciting if it wasn’t for the fact that for the greater part of this campus, the only involvement that is availed to us is watching the debate in the MSU. Forgive me for not becoming all tingly over watching another debate going over the same issues of the last dozens of other televised debates and townhall meetings. The only thing that will separate this one from the others is it will be extremely inconvenient and there will be 20 second spots the flash Vegas. Big whoop de doo. The only benefit I can see the student body is getting out of this is free notepads from CNN. Let’s face it; as much as everyone is in a lather about the presidential elections, this is the primaries. People pace yourselves. While you may favor one politico over another, let’s face it, they’re all democrats. It’s early days yet. I think a total condemnation of an entire college campus is a little premature considering that we aren’t even in an election year. I am thoroughly disgusted with this University, the political trainwreck that is becoming less like a exchange of ideas and more like a mud wrestling match at Beechers, and the so called experts with the their condemnation of my classmates. Yeah, some students might not know what the heck is going on, but at this point I envy their obliviousness. I wish I didn’t know all the problems that are surrounding us. We might not care about campus events, but I came to college to get a degree. If I want social enrichment, I’ll go to a bar. The conversation is better there. If I want to become more socially aware, I’ll google it. Yeah, we are notoriously apathetic. But me? I just don’t care anymore.

Las Vegas has gone insane...more insane than usual

It is now official. Las Vegas for the next 24 hours will be the epicenter of all press coverage. Whether it be OJ Simpson, who I happened to see in the flesh today as he was leaving the court house and the helicopters were circling. (see video of helicopters) or the presidential candidates who have taken over unlv, Las Vegas is center stage. The Debates have me thanking sweet baby Jesus that I decided to take classes monday/wednesday because the parking is supposed to be without precedent bad. Legendary bad. Like NO PARKING AT ALL. They should just cancel class since no one can get to the buildings. The Secret Service is all over campus and on everyone's backs. They are shutting down the only student parking available. The only thing left will be the parking garage that holds like 500 cars. If I didn't already dislike the candidates, I would now that they have taken over the school and Las Vegas.

CNN is in their little trucks passing out stuff. Really cool pads of paper. (see photo of me and Kathy with our free stuff) They weren't cheap on the freebies, lord love 'em. I even got a button that says "I totally disagree with everything you just said." Here I have another reason to like them. I only used to be able to stand their presence because they have Anderson Cooper. Who should totally do the debates as Wolf Blitzer is a democratic sycophant who kowtows to their every whim. Which AC is probably the same, but he's hot. These things can be forgiven if was is sufficiently hot.

The students are tailgating tomorrow which tells me one thing---college students will find any reason to drink. Though every time I see a presidential candidate, especially She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, I need a shot of tequila. I can in fact drink to that. That should be a liquor ad.

Sin City is going to Hell Tonight.

This whole thing is insanity.

How my professors are leading students to the democratic party.

This debate tomorrow is going to be the death of me. Besides the fact that parking is a disaster and secret service all over our ass, I have two professors so far today pushing all of us to participate with the debate. I'm in my second class of the day and in both classes, I've been offered extra credit for volunteering for the debate and/or tailgating at the debate. Because nothing says politics like beer and barbecue. For the second day straight, I get to hear about the dangers of nuclear energy and how its bad. Global whining 101 strikes again. Stay tuned for further reports of the brainwashing.

Thank You

In Memory

In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved, and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. — John McCrae

Aw, Texas, I hardly knew thee

At this time every year, I feel a pain in my chest that only can signify one thing. I miss home terribly. The problem is now I'm not sure where home is. I guess I feel a nostalgia for the lone star state, the place of my childhood. Texas well always have so many good memories. And perhaps what i miss is my roots. Texas meant a lot to me for a long time. The question is, is that really my home? I don't think so. I'm not enamored of the state like my mother. I'm so over it. But i still miss it terribly.

Quandary of the day.

ah, the constant quandaries of modern life. On one hand, I desperately want to go to London. I want it so bad. I dream of that weekend in Paris seeing the Eiffel tower or the tiger eye in London. I want it so so so much. More than I think I've ever wanted in my life. This will not be possible if the dollar doesn't go back up. Right now ten dollars American is a little more than 4 in GDP or British pounds. Why the damn limeys can't go with the euro like the rest of their continent, I don't know. But nonetheless, its just way to much of a difference for me to do it. No matter what happens, I'll borrow the money. I wouldn't do that to my parents and I refuse to be beholden to my father. Even though technically they are beholden to me. Nonetheless, I won't use any of their savings and mine are tapped out. I just cannot rationalize a trip to London with things the way they are. I need interest rates to go up so the dollar will get kicked into high gear. Yeah, it will screw up the economy, but the general economy doesn't directly effect my life as long as gas prices stay low. On the other hand, we got approved for a house loan today. I'm not sure the interest rate but I do know that its something we have talked about for two years now. The only thing is that I'm not sure about how enthusiastic I can get when I know I'll be out of here in a year/ year and a half. I cling to this as a way to bolster an otherwise dreary day in which I acknowledge my feelings of incredible hatred for las vegas. But I do want a new house. This apartment is just too small and Teddy and Coco desperately need a yard to play in. I need interest rates to stay fairly low for that. Sigh, decisions decisions.

Battle of the Condom Commercials

Which do you think is best? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nojWJ6-XmeQ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KwDXCGXtBKY

Fresh Hell of 11-5-07~Sisters are doin' it for themselves

Today in my classes its all been about gender. For not the first time, a large number of my classes as circled around the same subject. If I didn't know better, I would think it was planned. Today it was about gender in Sociology and Feminism in Modern American Poetry. My incredibly knowledgable yet equally absent soc professor asked us what we considered the advantages of being female and I won much praise with my list which consisted of:

• More social acceptance of emotional outbursts
• More range of wardrobe choices
• Multiple orgasms

Indeed, it is good to be a girl. He called me brilliant and that soothed an ego that had received earlier the lowest test grade in the history of its college career. Anyway, there was a list of the disadvantages and while that was not gone over in class, they are obvious. Social pressure to procreate, unfair work practices against women, the glass ceiling, blah blah. I say blah blah because this follows in with the usual song and dance that every woman is subjected to in college. We are all victims so lets get out there and beat the patriarchy. Rah rah rah! This would be the feminist cheer if feminists believed in cheerleaders. This kind of infirmary feminism is the result of strong opinionated women's anger over the supposed oppression of my generation. I say supposed because even though we are supposedly oppressed, I find myself not feeling oppressed. Perhaps its my strong personality that denies any man the right to have any say over my life whether it be my dear clueless father or any lover/boyfriend/husband. I had thought that perhaps I was the only one that felt this way. After all, we are subjected to the constant barrage of little barbs thrown by the third wavers that tell us we are the victims of society. I didn't understand how the sweet innocents of my generation could escape at least an inkling of the alleged oppression. After a brief little sojourn to the library for a quick snack and chat with cathy, my friend from soc, I proceeded to my fav class of the day. Modern American Poetry. Not particularly because I enjoy poetry, though I admit the modern stuff is much better than Victorian poetry, (thats probably the prof.) but because of the class quality and the professor is very intellectually stimulating. Anyway, to get to the point, we were studying Adrienne Rich, a feminist poet who went from being a 50's housewife with three sons to a bra burning lesbian. What interested me in the discussion is that Prof L asked us, how many of you consider yourselves feminists? Out of the 12 girls in the class, only three raised their hands. Really two and a half. The two were my dear friends who I knew before the class and they do understand the historical importance and the true definition of a feminist, which is simply someone that believes in equal rights for both sexes. By this definition, almost everyone is a feminist. Yet, one has to ask, why did most of the girls in that class not consider themselves proud members of the feminist movement. Is it perhaps that we do not consider ourselves oppressed? Are we poor dupes that do not see the conditions in which we live? The truth of the matter is that young single women are taking over the world. We are the children of Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda. Bridget Jones is our hero and cautionary tale. We no longer believe in cinderella and snow white. We can't afford the idea of being rescued because the prince isn't coming and even if he did, who wants him? We are educated, intelligent, and organized. Perhaps not into a movement, but our buying power alone has every major corporation and merchandiser worshipping at our feet. We are going to college more than men, living by ourselves away from daddy's thumb, and we aren't going to get married until we are damn well ready, if at all.

We are in the words of every gay man that is our compadre, Fierce! *snaps*

Instead of the family unit, we depend on our social circle and ourselves. We are the future. We sigh because as much as we love our parents, they just don't get it. And they don't. The world we face is completely different than the one of their youth and its problems are almost beyond their scope. They don't understand our pitfalls and demons. And demons we have.

We have aspirations and the tools to make them reality. We can nourish our own dreams and foster our future. We have it all planned out. We are giddy over our own possibilities. So don't look at us like we are victims that need a special movement that gets us rights or a man to come along to solve our problems. Sister's are doing for themselves.

The Beginning of the End

I have finally succumbed to my basest of urges and added on to the pollution that is already prevalent throughout the Internet. I have joined the ranks of the deluded self absorbed weasels that are somehow convinced that everyone in the world is interested in what they think. Having not the opportunity to harangue my nearest and dearest as well as the random stranger that always feels the need to inform me of their life, I have decided to created a blog that will be a sounding board for all the crazy thoughts that collect and then subsequently rattle around in my head like gumballs in those big machines. You know the ones, those that when you put a quarter in and they go down the little slide and you have to be double jointed to get low enough to get it out and then you about break your finger getting to it. And then after all that work its banana flavored. I hate banana flavor. For the life of me, I can't understand why anyone would want a flavored gumball. If you want a banana, eat a damn banana. You see why I need a blog? Hopefully in this blog we will tackle such important issues as why all the Winnie the Pooh characters are so damn sexually ambiguous, why I hate anyone that uses the phrase "my situation," and the death of feminism. We will further tackle issues that I find important to my life as I will almost definitely be the only one that reads this peace of shit. Let the fresh hell of the day commence.