spatial relation

It’s done. I’ve left. When I get back, there won’t be snow on the ground. I’m glad I got to go sledding before I left, even though my pants are still damp from the excursion. I’m sure no one on the plane can tell. Not that I care. I got to go sledding and they didn’t.

The plane. I’m at the point of no return. I’m sad. Really, really sad. On the other hand, I sure do like plane rides. There’s something so fascinating about seeing clouds on their own terms. It’s a little like going to a good friend’s house for the first time. You see them every day, but it’s always at some neutral location, like work, or school, or the bus stop. Clouds are much bigger in their own home.

Right. So, I’ve left. Am I ready? Not at all. I don’t know how anyone can be ready for something they’ve never done before. Scratch that. Astronauts can. Aside from astronauts, I don’t know how anyone can truly be prepared for a new experience. At least I’m prepared for this flight. I’ve taken long flights before and I am ready for this one.

6 hours later…

I’m still on this plane and I’m getting mighty sick of the view. No offense, Clouds. You have a lovely home, I just think I may have overstayed my welcome

sleeper hit

It is the night before I leave for my grand, trans-Atlantic adventure and I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep in the way that one can’t sleep when they are very young and worry that a horrid, stinking monster will eat them as soon as they doze off. I can’t sleep in the way that one can’t sleep the night before a big competition. I can’t sleep in the way that I used to not fall asleep the day before school begins.

I can’t sleep.

This is the first entry I’ve written in several months. In those months I have taken giant steps toward finishing my undergraduate degree, learned to knit, made new friends, gotten back in touch with old friends, and plotted out my final semester of school. Of the many events, trials, and encounters, the most exciting thing has been planning for my semester abroad in Limerick, Ireland.

And I can’t sleep.

I can’t sleep in the “Oh dear God, what have I done?” kind of way. I can’t sleep in the sense that my mind won’t stop whirring like a hand mixer, churning up worry, fear, excitement, curiosity, and a pinch of self-loathing to flavor the filling for my Humble Pie. I plan to bite off more than I can chew.

women.

as a woman, i feel i have some authority on the subject, however, it appears that i do not. i think i may have been kicked out of the How To Be A Girl Club.

maybe i missed a few meetings. maybe i was never inducted. maybe i'm a woman out of circumstance -- chromosomes and such. i don't really know. what i DO know is that i don't seem to have many friends of the female persuasion, and it's not because i don't try.

i try very hard, in fact. i'm not saying that i sexually discriminate who i choose to be friends with -- i'm saying that i take careful note of who i want to be friends with, and if they happen to be female, i make a concerted effort toward that friendship. women can be great. they can be funny, successful, motivational, daring, and all other kinds of wonderful things. they can also be judgmental, discriminating, and manipulative. but men can be those things too, so i'm not focusing on that. i'm taking a careful look at how women behave with one another.

i'm going to list the "rules" of the How To Be A Girl Club, as far as my knowledge and experience lend.

1. You must be cute. Any form of cute is acceptable, but there is a hierarchy:
Dress: must be cute. the color pink is necessary, whether it is prominent or used as an accent color. PINK is cute. accessories should be up-to-date.
Actions: Must be cute. You must trot across streets. Walking is not permitted. If you trot, then you look like you are in a rush or posing for the next H&M ad, which will be sexy.
Oh, and don't forget to BE sexy. That's important.

2. You must be unapproachable. Being unapproachable means being visually judgmental or at least, being visually appealing. The more appealing you look directly corresponds with your unapproachability. Have YOU ever approached a supermodel? Nobody has. They're SUPERMODELS, for cryin' out loud! They don't EXIST on this planet except to make life for normal women Hell.

3. Be coy. Don't ever say too much. It keeps people curious. And uninformed.

gah. i don't really know what i'm talking about. this list could potentially go on forever. i know i'm writing this post out of anger and hurt, but damnit, there IS some truth to what i've written. i'm not sure what bothers me more: lashing out at women who have hurt my feelings, unnecessarily OR expecting women to behave in ways that hurt others.

it's a dress.

the election is over. why do i keep finding articles about Michelle Obama's attire from Tuesday night? sigh.

between belt loops

i think i'm gaining weight. for those that know me, this may not seem like something worth blogging about, but i assure you, any decipherable physical change is jarring enough to elicit a post.

the belt is a silent, unbiased judge. i have had my belt, a black, vinyl affair, with silver rivets, for several years. i love my belt. for years, i cinched my pants at the third rivet. today, i cinched them at the second. i don't recall exactly what i was thinking when i did this, but i do remember thinking, "Oh. That's a bit tight. Interesting." then i went about my day.

my day wasn't anything spectacular, save for the fact that i kept hiking up my jeans. at one point, i attempted to tighten my belt, but found it uncooperative. wait a second! uncooperative? it's a BELT, fer cryin' out loud! it should do my bidding! i bid it to cinch at the third rivet! no?

i debated throwing out the renegade accessory, but realized i had better throw out my junk food instead.

water therapy

it seems strange that a shower can be invigorating when you're healthy, but debilitating when you're sick. by the way, i'm sick, and i just took a shower, so naturally, i'm going straight to bed. good night.

convolution of the text

i've been doing homework all day. it's tiring. there is a lot of reading and even more writing. i doubt i can write a post without thinking of how i would write it for any of my classes. hmm.

advanced composition:
i don't want to do any more homework. (active statement)

my homework does not want to be done. (passive statement)

math:
homework = not done = failing grade

literary theory and criticism:
the homework, which must be done, is merely a constructed reality in which the active subject remains in a state of flux, due to their inability to reside happily within that structure. the homework, therefore becomes the active function, forcing that energy onto the (now) passive subject, reversing roles and breaking down the structure. (saussure, derrida, lacan, althusser)

she does not want to do her homework because she wants a penis. her lack of a penis directly relates to her inability to function. her ego is weak, and the Oedipal Complex only applies to her after she has realized that her lack of having is what makes her female. (freud)

journalism:
the student, 27, was unable to do her homework, sunday evening. the outcome of this event remains to be determined.

yep. i have ceased to function outside of the classroom. gah. back to work...