Another Loss at Day's End

http://www.thesutherlandcenter.com

Today I found out that David Shouse, one of my dad's closest friends and former bosses, died. He had ALS and was predicted by doctors to die years ago - but he didn't. He had one of the greatest attitudes of anyone I've ever met, even after he was confined to a wheelchair and was paralyzed from the neck down. I hadn't seen him for a few years, but I knew that he was nearly completely paralyzed and unable to speak. My dad did send this email to me on November 10th that David had sent out:

Well, a 5 day hospital turned into 19 days in ICU and acute care. Patti [his wife] lived there for over a week, reading my lips for the staff, checking the meds they gave me and learning about the ventilator system.

We are now home and it is much better. Patti does a great job handling all aspects of the vent. Courtney [his daughter] was also trained so she can provide some backup when she is available. We will have to find someone to help on a regular basis so Patti can go to the store, etc.

It was a bit overwhelming at first. Our routines are complicated by having to maneuver all the vent gear without unplugging something, like my breathing tubes! Check the attached photo for an idea of all the new stuff. Day by day, we are figuring it out.

Courtney was on fall break, so she stayed with us when we first got home. Patti's brother, George, then came from DC for over a week. He was a huge help in figuring out solutions. He got my computer to mount on my chair, plus a dozen other household chores that were long overdue.

All in all, we are making progress. Patti is very good at reading my lips, that's a good thing because we decided yesterday that I will not get the type of trach that allows me to speak. I don't have enough air volume available in my lungs. Oh well....

all for now, (this took me 3 days to type!).

david

I cried when is saw this. Partly out of sadness that such a good man could be so ill. And partly because he's one of the most incredible people I've ever met. To be this positive in such a situation is mind-blowing.

My parents and I had literally just been talking about him over my birthday or Thanksgiving. Without David, what my life is now wouldn't be possible. Seriously. He was the one who offered the job to my dad that brought us to Minnesota and changed everything. I know it may sound strange, but in a sort of butterfly affect way, this one little thing really did change my entire life. By moving here, I went to a different school, got a better education, decided to go to college, had the chance for so many different opportunities (musically, academic, travel) that I would have never gotten otherwise. One small thing made all the difference.

And while my heart is breaking that this wonderful, fantastic man is gone from our world, I want to just thank him for everything he did for me and my family. It really means a lot to me, and he will be missed greatly.

St. Andrew's Day

Yep. Today's St. Andrew's Day, the feast day of the patron saint of Scotland. Let the flashbacks begin...

Glasgow... you are so close, and yet so far...

Me of Many Moonstruck Meanderings

I saw this in one of my psych books and love it for unknown reasons.

So I realize that in my long word vomit about my friends' relationship experiences, I failed to talk about any of my own. And if I'm going to tell all about my friends, it's only fair that I do the same for myself. Of course, there's really not much to discuss. But then again, maybe there's more there than I think. So, being a creepy psych major, I'm going to talk it through and come to... some sort of consensus. All for the benefit of those publicly judging me.

I guess I could start at the beginning, in preschool, when I'm pretty sure I had a crush on a kid named Jordan (one easy way to tell if I have a crush - I talk about the person A LOT). But then he tattled on me for playing with clay during storytime and, though our teacher said it was fine, it was like he knew my real intentions (I had it because I wanted to take it home with me because I didn't have any clay at home. But then I left it under a dining room chair and it got all dry and useless. One of the only two times I've stolen in my entire life - and both times were an epic fail. But I digress...) Anyway, I never really forgave Jordan for his betrayal. Not the most positive start, eh?

I had a crush [quick disclaimer - I wouldn't really regard these as crushes because I didn't recognize them as such until much later. In fact, I don't think I ever recognized I really liked a guy in a romantic-sort of way until high school. It seems the late bloomer thing is a common theme with me] on a kid named Michael in 3rd or 4th grade until I moved. And then there was an awkward incident with a boy named William. Girls seemed to know more about him than I did, but I once heard a rumor that in second grade he forced a kiss upon one of my friends (but I never asked her about it because I felt like it was inappropriate. And because I'm awkward enough regarding small talk). One rainy day, we were stuck inside for indoor recess and playing some game that William wasn't happy with. He wanted me to play something else, but I didn't want to. So he tried to coerce me through pleading and inching his hand up my leg. I was wearing a skort or a skirt or something and so part of my thigh was exposed. Once his hand got there I was totally freaking out and I had no idea what to do. I didn't know what he was doing, I don't know if he knew what he was doing, and it was definitely not making me any more willing to play with him. He finally stopped touching my leg (probably when it looked like I was going to start crying) and left me alone and I was relieved. I however was terrified of him for the rest of my time at that school.

That probably sounds like the perfect place for someone like Doctor Phil to be like, "See, that traumatized you and scarred you and changed you." I don't know if it did. Honestly, I've never told anyone about that before. Maybe it did. It never really troubled me - well, it troubled me, but I never really thought about it as possibly, you know, important to my psyche until I started studying psychology. It's probably not. It's probably just an awkward, uncomfortable growing up experience. Did it have much of an impact? Who the hell knows...

Then the move to Minnesota. Despite like half of my friends and my grandmother's belief, I never had a crush on [uber gay]. I just didn't. He annoyed me at first, actually. I did have a crush on a guy named Ethan, who moved to California and I never saw him again. He deserves more than this simple sentence, but I was twelve, so... not really much to say.

AND he's a Celtic fan? Goddammit... (from people.com)

And then in junior high I met [Broadway baby] and became really good friends with him. He was the closest guy friend, other than [uber gay] and maybe Michael, that I'd ever had. And then in high school, for our first homecoming dance, he gave me an corsage, an "extra one" that he said he'd had, even though my parents were convinced he bought it on purpose. It was the only time a guy has ever bought me flowers. I realized that I might just have a crush on [Broadway baby] in sophomore year. The same year he came out. Alas.

Somewhere between 8th grade and freshman year of high school I had my first star crush, on a Scot no less. Thank you, Gerard Butler, for making the Phantom of the Opera ridiculously sexy. You were supposed to have a scarred appearance,  you were supposed to a crazy murderer. And yet you were still hot.

Then there were the awkward high school years, which I'd rather not talk about but probably don't have a choice (actually, I do, but this is my blog. And I have this whole honesty bit going on...) I had some weird celebrity crushes (Jason Issacs, Hugo Weaving, Heath Ledger only after I'd seen him in The Dark Knight), some random comedy infatuations (looking at you, Stephen Colbert and Craig Ferguson) and other various actor obsessions (Hugh Jackman, Colin Firth, Paul Bettany). And then I saw Ewan McGregor in Moulin Rouge and my life was forever changed. Or ruined. I'm not sure, exactly.

Also amongst high school were weird awkward feelings of I-don't-know-what for a teacher or two. It was probably more intense admiration but I didn't know how to process it and thus stupidly told [X] and [novel killer] about one of them at the end of high school and thus became known for having a thing for authority figures. It was not an encouraging step towards actually talking about my feelings.

But wait, I'm forgetting something... there was that week at a summer music clinic at the University of Wisconsin, where one of my instructors was an opera grad student in music, specifically opera. He was gay, I'm pretty sure, but I couldn't help getting a tiny crush on a guy who can tell you the plot of Tosca in modern, exciting terms and then sings fantastic tenor solos at the class's urging. Between this and McGregor, I think I have a thing for vocalists.

And I'm totally forgetting a whole thing with [hahahaha SHUT UP] which I've never really spoken about. That deserves discussion... but probably not here. Because it would take far too much discussion and explanation.

Then college. Star crushes on Michael Fassbender and Christoph Waltz in Inglourious Basterd. And on James McAvoy after Becoming Jane. And obviously John Barrowman... because of reasons.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Because last year I fell hard for one of my instructors, [tedesco]. I was pretty much in love with him. As much as you can be with someone you don't know super well, someone who's older than you and will never reciprocate what you think you feel. I say think because it's actually hard for me to recognize that I felt that way about him now. [X] had an nice little explanation for this when I talked to her about it, after I'd fallen for [No-Mr-Darcy] which you can experience here. I think I was just happy to find someone to talk to in a new major, who was cute and funny and not afraid to say what he was thinking, even if it was awkward and I disagreed. I think it was just nice to meet a guy who actually liked deep, intellectual conversations.

And just as the school year ended and I was trying to work through my feelings regarding [tedesco], I met [No-Mr-Darcy]. It was honestly the first time I had a crush on someone who was my age since [Broadway baby]. It was the first time I actually felt NOT scared to tell someone how I felt, given the right time (though that never came). But I don't have to tell you all about that. You can read it all here. And here. And pretty much anything in August or September.

So that's that. There you go. We could do this by terms of firsts, but I don't know if that's a good way to approach my life. As my first serious crush that wasn't on celebrity wasn't really until... senior year of high school. And my first date was a non-date with [No-Mr-Darcy] that ended with a hand shake. And my "first kiss" was an awkward cheek peck from [hahahaha SHUT UP]. And that William and the random neck licker from Friday Night Paint Fight and [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying]'s backrub are the most intimate any man has ever been with me (and two out of the three were totally unwanted... and the back rub was grudgingly accepted. Actually, [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] might actually have a bit of finess for back massage on awkward trips from an apartment to the Saloon while his friend [save the panzer] is currently trying not to turn around and strangle him. But I digress). And then there was the forced cuddling from [one-complicated-lesbian] who was distraught to find that I had never cuddled with anyone before, even with a friend, and then forced me to experience it in a bunk in our Fort William hostel. God, that sounds bad. It was nonsexual, but still totally awkward. (How do I get myself into these situations? Really?)

See what I mean? It sounds really bad - like the plot to some comedy-drama.  It sounds even worse when you've had a bad day and the weather sucks and you can't sleep and you're home all alone and you feel crappy and you think you're going to be alone forever. Which is an assumption. And a stupid assumption. So fuck that. Seriously. Yes, I have a zero relationship experience. Yes, I am a total romantic who has no notion of what modern dating actually consists of. But something will work out. There are 7 BILLION PEOPLE on this planet. 7 BILLION. Somewhere out there, there has to be someone else who's not a royal jerk, who isn't socially awkward, who isn't trying so hard to prove his manliness or show how smart he is or just get in some girl's pants. Who's just comfortable being who he is. Am I really that naive to think that not all my romantic notions are false? But really, I'm not asking for this:

http://www.doodlekisses.com/forum/topics/things-to-do-if-the-lights-go-out-during-the-hurricane?page=9&commentId=2065244%3AComment%3A2673482&x=1#2065244Comment2673482

I don't want that. That freaks me out. And it just seems... false. I'm just asking for this:

This has been another romantic musing by the Vulture. I beg your indulgence.

Side comment: I just remembered another star obsession I had: Rupert Everett. Ah, yes... Thanks to him I now a fan of Oscar Wilde. For the win.

Whovian

I realize the more I tweak my blog, the move Doctor Who-obsessed it becomes. I mean, the "Captain's Log" tab has been like that since before I watched Torchwood. And then, after I started watching Torchwood, I decided to add the photo on the Cast of Characters page just for fun because I liked how it fit the whole idea of people I know. And then I started watching Doctor Who, ended up changing my personal description, the blog description, and now have changed "followers" to "companions." Oh, not to mention the page that doesn't exist to expel my obsession for Jack Harkness/ John Barrowman without creating a thousand posts. And of course the Tumblr link, on which I reblog lots of Who stuff (and does nothing to help alleviate my possible stalking of Barrowman... I am so, so sorry for you, sir.)

By the end of the year, if this isn't merely a Doctor Who fan blog, I'm going to be proud of myself for keeping my mania in check. However, it will be a "culture and Doctor Who and how they're totally connected!" mash-up. It already is. Because I'm starting to think that Doctor Who = life. Or it's at least relevant to so many things I feel like talking about. And it has great gifs. And I freaking love the show.

So there you go. Enough talk. Time for Captain Jack to make a kind of vague, not-quite-appropriate gesture...

http://doctorwhogifs.tumblr.com/post/1212704498

YES.

Thank you. That is all.

Love and Other Laments

Life is weird.

Just the other day, I had this dream that [X] was going to propose to her boyfriend. And what do I see on Monday when I log on to Facebook between classes? That she's broken up with him.

I have to admit, I was surprised. I mean, she went back and forth in her words about their relationship, but it seemed like she was planning on the long haul (but honestly, who doesn't?) Just over the summer she was talking about grad school in Milwaukee to be near him.

And yet another relationship ends. He was her first boyfriend, after all, but still... it didn't even last a year. The only two people I know well who aren't single are [shortage of perfect breasts] and [action is eloquence] - a friend I made in the early years of high school who is getting married(!!!).  And, according to [X], [shortage of perfect breasts] is still with her boyfriend only because she's settled for her current boyfriend because she doesn't think she can do better.

Other than [action is eloquence], not much of this is very encouraging for one who has yet to enter the realm of dating. The whole endeavor begins to look rather futile and impossible. Also, everyone has chosen this week to complain about how alone they are in the world and say that love doesn't really exist. But I refuse to believe that.

I will not give into the cynical. I will stand my ground. I believe in romance. Despite all odds.

Cue the triumphant trumpet fanfare! Release the doves and sprinkle glitter everywhere! I know this may sound hokey. I know this may sound repetitive. But I need to remind myself of this stuff and not get all hopeless and give up.

You see, I've rarely seen people make love a priority in the life.  No where outside a romance novel, at least. And in romance novels, it borders on absurd, because nothing else matters - hell, the plot doesn't even matter except for the relationship between the two main characters. But that's not what I mean here. What I mean, is, it's rare that I've seen love regarded seriously in my age group - being more important than school, more important than work, more important than the trials of everyday life, for just a minute in their days. Maybe I've spent too much time around [X] - she once told me that love made her feel bad, weak, out of control. Of course, that was reciprocated love (which I too have felt... and yeah, that's actually true). As for mutual love - well, I can't speak for that, but I certainly hope her opinion is different now. When I talked about crushes (in high school, that is - I wasn't as close to [Львица] as I am now) I always felt like people (meaning [X] and [novel killer]) thought I was just being silly and never seemed to treat my crushes with same importance they treated theirs. Even with [No-Mr-Darcy] I felt a somewhat lack of sincerity. Perhaps it's because I've had a lot of star crushes (Heath Ledger, Paul Bettany, Ewan McGregor, John Barrowman, you get the idea...) that they just don't take me seriously. Have I had an unusual amount of star crushes? I don't know... but I digress. Again.

Originally over Thanksgiving Break, [X] invited me to go along with her to interview [action is eloquence] about her work as a photographer for some class that [X] is in. I was kind of excited about it - I mean, I have my issues with [X] but we can have really good heart to hearts and I was hoping to  maybe talk honestly about what happened this summer (and once and for all put the cap on this whole jar of [No-Mr-Darcy] business. God does that feel like a light year ago...). But then I didn't hear anything from her and I saw the thing about the break-up on Facebook and I told her via comment on the relationship status (wow, how personal of me) that I was hear for her if she wanted to talk.

Nothing. Not a word. Her ex has been babbling away on Facebook like nothing happened. And she hasn't been online at all. I wonder if he broke up with her... He is living with his ex-girlfriend. Yikes.

Okay, okay, gossipy speculation not important. What is important is that not all things are bleak. Though there is a somewhat dim history of relationships with my high school friends: [foxy lady] dated a douchebag for way too long, and [shortage of perfect breasts] has "settled" for a guy who won't accept my friend request on Facebook (what did I do to you?! We've met like four times and we had a conversation about Torchwood and Doctor Who! Okay, so it was more like you said something, [shortage of perfect breasts] said something, I said something, [shortage of perfect breasts] said something, you said something, etc but STILL. Why?!)  [tiny dancer] has had her fair share of hardships with boys (somewhat thanks to [shortage of perfect breasts]? 'Tis a rumor. And another story) and [uber gay] has dated more men than the rest of us combined and seemed to have gotten pretty badly upset by his boyfriend breaking up with him (a first - usually he does the breaking off).  [mind ninja] has had problems, as has [the artist] who loved a man who can never be hers. And [it's a twin thing] - well, neither of them have shown much interest in dating. And then [novel killer] likes to complain about her ex-boyfriend from high school and dreams of the Spaniard from London but also makes out with [musical queen] in her spare time (which is described by [musical queen] like Santana and Britney from Glee. OK...) (By the way, I will be shot for having this knowledge. Just an FYI). And of course, [musical queen] has her own dating issues too. And [wolf woman]  - who knows. I don't really know her any more, honestly. And of course [Львица] has had major ups and downs. And then that brings in [The Question]. And... and... and...

You get the picture.

Of course, that's NOT to say everyone around me has only had totally depressing relationships. [shortage of perfect breasts] seems happy. [Львица] and [The Question] have taught me more about relationships without their knowing it than I ever thought I could learn without actually being in one (so... weirdly enough, thanks guys). All of these guys and gals above have thousands of opportunities before them. They are all great, wonderful people. There is absolutely no reason why they shouldn't find somebody out there in this wide, wide world.

It's so easy to see how wonderful everyone else is, but when I think about myself, I can't say I easily think those things about myself. I see how other people act in relationships and I wonder how that could ever be possible for me. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't just be easier to be like my friend [amante della musica] who just seems to have a really close gay guy friend, like Will and Grace, than trying to understand the modern dating world, which totally baffles me (maybe I should have been reading Cosmo in my teen years instead of Jane Austin, to at least help me understand what's going on, instead of the sort of culture shock I seem to find myself in).

This whole conversation, however, leads me utterly off topic. Let's save this for another time, shall we?

The good news is, I'm officially playing flute at a wedding - at [action is eloquence]'s. She's the first of my high school friends to get married, and though it seems a little strange (she's only a year older than me! Marriage - ahhhh!) for her it seems right. She acts far older than her young age and she and her fiance have been together for several years. Also, she just seems... ready. Unlike my cousin who just seemed to do it for paternal obligations. [action is eloquence] is doing it because she really loves her boyfriend.

You feel that warm, flickering feeling like a tea light candle? That's called hope.

Another Night at the Saloon

http://www.esquire.com/drinks/cosmopolitan-drink-recipe

Last night was another excursion to the Saloon and was also my first time at a club as a 21 year old. So, because it was a total life tile opportunity, I got a cosmopolitan, which I'd never had before, kindly paid for by [Львица]. It was really quite good. I'd still drink a martini first, but if I was in the mood for something sweet - yeah, definitely would go for a cosmo. It was also two-for-one so I ended up with two cosmos. And then [save the panzer]'s friend - who seems to think he's his boyfriend - [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] insisted on buying me a drink. And because I don't want to pass up a free drink, especially from a man, especially because [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] wouldn't take no for an answer, especially because I wanted to try something I'd never had before - an Orgasm (okay, wow, I just wrote that and out of context that sounds REALLY funny. I just meant the drink, guys), I consented (poor word choice. Now I'm just digging a hole... dammit). So I ended up with what were supposed to be two Orgasms. Except that [Львица] is taking bar-tending classes. And she knows what's supposed to be in the drinks. An Orgasm is supposed to contain Bailey's Irish Cream. There was no Bailey's in sight. In fact, it looked more like Sex on the Beach  (I'm thinking I tasted peach schnapps in it... there was hit of something like that in there).

http://jomygoodness.typepad.com/jomygoodness/2009/05/index.html

It did kind of look like that. It was also pretty... sweet. And way too much alcohol for little ole me. So I ditched the drinks, trying not to think too hard about whether [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] changed the drink orders on purpose or because he was totally smashed, and went to go dance, and had my dance moves critiqued by a man I'd seen there before (the same one who complemented me on my sparkly dress. No fancy dress last night for me - it was too damn cold. So just jeans and a shirt). I think my dancing makes gay men cringe. Awesome.

In other major events, [Львица] got hit on by a Russian man. I realized that alcohol makes me care less about sucking at dancing. We all tried not to get forever embarrassed by [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying]. Yet another great night out :D

Also, I would just like to say that LMAO's "Sexy and I Know It" is the best dance song ever. Just because of reasons. It's ridiculous. And fabulous.

Complain about Jane

http://bookielaura.blogspot.com/2011/01/jane-by-april-linder.html

Barnes and Noble has made me sad about life... at least my suburban location has. Aside from the tons of vampire teen lit they now carry, the obsession with the Nook, and the lack of Doctor Who DVDs, I came across a book called Jane in the teen section. Intrigued, I picked it up - and immediately regretted it.

It's a modernization of Jane Eyre. And that offends me. Probably because Jane Eyre is my most favorite book in the entire universe.

A modernization would be okay, except for how it's done. Here's the description from Barnes and Noble:

Forced to drop out of an esteemed East Coast college after the sudden death of her parents, Jane Moore takes a nanny job at Thornfield Park, the estate of Nico Rathburn, a world-famous rock star on the brink of a huge comeback. Practical and independent, Jane reluctantly becomes entranced by her magnetic and brooding employer and finds herself in the midst of a forbidden romance.

But there's a mystery at Thornfield, and Jane's much-envied relationship with Nico is soon tested by an agonizing secret from his past. Torn between her feelings for Nico and his fateful secret, Jane must decide: Does being true to herself mean giving up on true love?

Rochester is a rock star? Are you SERIOUS? That's like... oh, I dunno, making Mr. Darcy an UNDERWEAR MODEL. If I wanted to read about a girl meeting a rock star, I'd read every other romance novel EVER.

WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TOO?!

Sorry, sorry - Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester are rather sacred to me. Perhaps the book is perfectly good in its own right, but I don't want to hear about any comparisons between the two. I haven't read the book, but this Nico person sounds completely different from Rochester - and thus it's not the same story. And now I'm getting all defensive over fictional characters because...

http://www.someecards.com/usercards/viewcard/eefa97839efa80ab6a34c9d9c10b8296

Shut up, e-cards. No one cares what you think.

Blasphemy

WARNING: This is going to be a long blog. I'd apologize, but I think it's worth it. 

Today, I went to mass. Being the weird, semi-Catholic that I am, I for unknown reasons get the urge to go to church about the time Advent rolls around. It's a comfort thing, I think - looking for hope in the approaching winter, looking for a way to de-stress in the looming doom of finals. The hope that maybe, just maybe, I will have a break-through and everything about life will suddenly make sense. I also had an ulterior motive for going today - after several decades of using the same service, the Papacy decided that this weekend, the first of a new liturgical year, would be the time to premiere a new liturgy.

A quick word on the liturgy - it's the prayers the Catholic church uses, the responses the congregation says to the priest, the stuff that's based off the traditional Latin mass. I was aware about the changes, due to articles such as this and this. It's supposed to be closer to the original Latin wording, yet people say it's not a great improvement. But I tried to keep an open mind - I really did.

It totally sucked. Not just because everything I'd memorized over the last 20 years was kind of worthless now. Not just because it made the entire mass seem awkward. Not even because it the wording was poor and not at all the smooth, flowing prose I was used to. I mean, all of that could be fixed with repetition and getting used to the new words. No, I was mad because of all of the changes that the Church could be making, THEY CHOOSE THIS.

To add insult to injury, the church we usually go to, the Basilica of St. Mary's, did not have their usual pastor there (a very friendly fellow who, from the middle row of pews looks very much like Phillip Seymour Hoffman). No, we had a priest from Duluth, who had been there before and sang his praises about President Obama. That was very awkward then - Obama had just recently become president and won the Nobel Peace Price for unclear reasons. And Obama had nothing to do with the week's homily. I really don't care what a priest's political opinion is. But the homily - the sermon, the bit where the priest is supposed to connect the Bible reading to everyday life - generally shouldn't be a time for you to out your political platform for no good reason. This week, the visiting priest decided he should tie in the OWS protestors to the wait for Jesus to return. I didn't get it. At all. I think he was trying to make the argument that being supportive of the poor is not inherently Bolshevik or liberal and that questioning the way things are, the systems we're in, is something the Church has been doing for centuries, something Jesus did. And that's when I lost it.

For those of you who have never been inside a Catholic church, here's what the interior of St. Mary's looks like:

http://www.katiemoos.com/albums/blog/20080114/0012.jpg

Now, not EVERY Catholic church looks like this. But it's kind of a theme - you know, awesome splendor to celebrate the glory of God. It's part of the reason people Martin Luther decided to stop being Catholic and go and do their own thing - they got sick of the cognitive dissonance between what they were seeing and what they were hearing. "Yes, help the poor! Give them money! Go out there and support the OWS protestors. Bring them to our church and show them how great we are!" That was the gist of the priest's homily. What I see: marble. Gilded windows and altar. A priest who CLEARLY doesn't understand that the OWS protestors want nothing to do with the Catholic church - they most likely see it as another institution that's full of money and is not sharing it very well with the rest of the world. And if the priest supported the OWS people so much, why wasn't he offering to give the church's wealth to the poor? Why wasn't he out there protesting with them?

Because it's so much easier to talk the talk than walk the walk.

Religion comes easily to some people. I am not one of those people. I've had critical thinking in my life since day one - and because of that, I am overly critical about EVERYTHING. Have I doubted the existence of God? Yes, often. Do I believe in the kingdom of God? Bad question - it's recently occurred to me that I've never thought of God as a king. I'm American - the monarchical associations really don't set well with me (in fact, during mass, when we're supposed to bow during the presentation of the host, I thought to myself, I bow for no man! But I digress...) Do I think that, because the pope is supposed to be a conduit thru which God talks to us that he's always right? The man doesn't understand how condoms work - so NO (seriously, he previously said they spread AIDS. Check it out here). Perhaps it's not that religion doesn't come easily to me - it's that blind faith doesn't. Because I certainly don't have blind faith at all.

I cannot have 100% trust in the Catholic church because I disagree with so many things they do. They are hypocritical to the point of being painful. The priest up there today was talking about equality and I'm back there in the pews thinking about how unequal the Church is - how women can't be priests, how homosexuals are condemned, how until rather recently divorcees were excommunicated. The priest is talking about the important political issues he thinks that the Republicans are refusing to talk about while I know once, ONLY ONCE out of the several hundred times I've been to church in the last few years, I've only heard ONE priest (the Phillip Seymour Hoffman look-alike, actually) accept that: A) the Catholic church has a problem with pedophilia among their priests, B) this issue is a BIG DAMN DEAL and has been kept quiet, and C) something should be done about it. So go ahead and talk about issue that deserve better coverage - I'll keep in mind why you have no right to throw stones from glass houses. And of all the things the Church could have changed - rules about the celibacy of priests, rules about women being allowed in the priesthood, any of the number of huge issues  in the Church, they change the wording of the Liturgy. Really, guys? Really?

What made me saddest, I think, is looking around at the kind, sweet people around me, stumbling through the new Liturgy, doing their best to sing choral music, trying not to twitch as the Homily stretched past fifteen minutes, and realizing: THEY DESERVE SO MUCH BETTER. They deserve more than a Church that's on the divide - trying to keep old members and recruit new members at the same time. Trying to resist becoming modern by making changes to reflect the old Latin. Seeing change as something that is done for long-term, divine reasons, not for present, bodily circumstances. Preaching socialistic or liberal views while the overall structure is incredibly conservative and sovereign. Communism versus monarchy. Black and white. Forgetting that there are so, so many shades of grey in-between.

That's the problem with this divide in the Church - the priests are no longer preaching what the pope says. Which is great, I think - I mean, I totally believe that priests should be allowed to say what they think. But the thing is, I don't know what the Catholic church IS any more. Is it what I see in the Papacy? Is it what I see with the priests - totally individuated and unique, depending on who's doing the service? I feel like there must be a way to reconcile the two, to allow for freedom of expression yet still keeping a cohesive continuity together, without all of this political squabbling. Of course, I have no idea what that might be. The Church is totally built off sovereignty - but it also has a more recent history of Socialist connections. And I feel like it's not working. I feel like people aren't happy about this, that it's just causing hypocrisy. I mean, there's only so many times I can say, "It's just one man's opinion, it's just want one priest says" or "I don't have to agree with the pope" without feeling like I don't belong. There's only so many times I can walk out of mass feeling angry and upset and betrayed.

I'm thinking about going to Lutheran service sometime soon - I mean, I've already gotten the whole "I'm mad at hypocrisy and I'm mad at the pope!" thing down pretty well. But I also think that maybe I'm not meant for organized religion. I really love going to mass - the tradition and ceremony of it is comforting. But the politics driving it really bothers me - maybe because it's a battle that's becoming more and more obvious and I don't want to have to take a side. I'm not a socialist, I'm don't put my faith in the sovereign, I'm not a very good capitalist (well, it depends on your definition of capitalist. I'm not a very good capitalist as defined by a cursory look at Wall Street). It seems that I might just believe in The Theory of Moral Sentiments by Adam Smith (yes, THAT Adam Smith - he's not just an economist, Wall Street people and OWSers. I believe he deserves a huge second look) (I also realize I should really discuss my perception of politics sometime. But not here - this damn long enough). And despite our efforts to separate church and state, one has to admit that religion is pretty damn political in many ways. So maybe, being the weird person that I am (a moral sentimenter and a reverent agnostic-Catholic mess) I should just stop pissing myself off and going to mass. And yet at Christmas, I just keep finding myself drawn back to those cool stone walls, that scent of spicy incense and the guttural rumble of the organ, the haunting glimmering stained glass - and thus I put myself through it all over again.

Maybe I'm a hypocrite too.

Alien Movies are Affecting My Brain

I just watched Super 8 with my parents tonight and I realized that I've been having a lot of bizarre dreams in connection to it.

Like just the other the night I dreamed that Freddie Highmore, looking just like Charlie in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was my son (how my son was British, I'll never know) and he ran off into the forest (that looked just like the forests in Martha Marcy May Marlene) and teamed up with this architecture and science crew to build this secret lab to study aliens. And then he got arrested by the US government and I was really upset - both that the Freddie Highmore kid ran away, and that the government arrested him.

And then some time ago I dreamed that I was walking on this pedestrian bridge over the interstate, this one that's covered in wire fencing and ended up at some substation were this huge wooden fence had been built up around the electrical devices. Something was living back there and trying to tear its way out. The military arrived and I tried to escape but my way was barred by broken fence material so I started climbing the fence and swinging on it like a monkey. I had outrageous upper body strength and realized that whatever creature was living behind the fence was giving me some sort of superhero skills. So I escaped before the military could apprehend me.

Yeah, so I should seriously stop watching sci-fi. Like that's gonna happen.

And while I'm on the topic of weird dreams, I keep having this reoccurring one where the same thing happens - for no apparent reason, my teeth get loose and fall out. I had it once this semester and then again just last night. I mean, there I was, eating or something, and then I realized my two front teeth were loose. And suddenly the came out like baby teeth. And I woke up with "All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth" in my head and I was not happy. But I've had this dream at least six or seven times over the last year or so and I have no idea why. This terrible dream dictionary I have says it means I'm worried about some relationship or friendship or something. I think it means I have some weird phobia about my teeth. Oy.

The Captain Jacks

So I just found this photo while looking online at Master and Commander stuff with my mother. The Captain Jack club? YES, FOR THE WIN! This is the BEST THING EVER!!!!

Thanksgiving

I'm not road-tripping anywhere for Thanksgiving, but if I was, this would be my theme song. One of my favorites - and I just heard in O'Donnoavan's last week. I could ramble on about all the multitudes of things that I've been blessed with this year, but instead I'm just going to post this song. For some reason, it says more than my words can. In short, let's just say I'm thankful for everything.

Polly Oliver

The other night in campus band rehearsal, our very adorable student teacher told us about the background of one of the pieces we're playing - "Polly Oliver." It's based off an English folk song, about a girl who disguises herself as a man and joins the military. However, while serving, a captain - her love, is injured and she nurses him back to health. The doctor remarks, "You have cherished him as if you were his wife." And our student teacher read us the last stanza of the song:

O then Polly Oliver, she burst into tears

And told the good doctor her hopes and her fears,

And very shortly after, for better or for worse,

The captain took joyfully his pretty soldier nurse.

CUTEST SONG EVER. I liked the piece before - it's so beautiful and I'm an absolute sucker for folk songs. And now, knowing the story it's based off of, I absolutely love it.

You can check out the full song lyrics at this Wikipedia link.

And what is it with girls falling in love with captains? Oh yeah, that's why... ;)

Throwing Down the Gauntlet

Today, I received this really kind, sweet email from the president of the Human Rights Campaign, thanking me for all I've done for marriage equality. Now, this was a mass email but it still put a pang of cognitive dissonance in my mind. Mainly because I just joined the HRC two months ago and I haven't done much. Yes, I signed a petition. Yes, I talk about gay rights a lot. Yes, half of my best friends are gay and I photo-stalk people who photo-stalk John Barrowman. But that doesn't equal much of anything. Of course, neither does a passive-aggressive blog. But it's a first step, and it's the thought that counts.


So, as a New Year's resolution before New Years (a Thanksgiving resolution, if you will), I'm jumping into the political arena. That's right, baby - I am throwing down the gauntlet. Because we have a big election next year. And as GLBT issues are near and dear to my heart, there's some stuff I think should be clarified.

Read this article. And then watch the video posted below (it's the same that's on the article's website). Or just watch the video and then read the article. Really, I don't care. Just do it.

I don't know about you, but when I first watched this, I felt a bit like I do when someone is speaking Italian above my level - I can understand words, and maybe a few sentences, but nothing made cohesive sense. Fortunately for me, I read the article first. Or maybe unfortunately... because I spent much of the morning think about this.

Now admittedly, the video doesn't mention anything at all about homosexuals. But the Huffington Post blog article says that Tamara Scott, Michele Bachmann's Iowa Campaign Co-Chair, is speaking in reference to gay marriage and how it will ruin the institution of marriage. Because this is taken out of context and I have no idea what "red herring" is being referred to, maybe the Huffington Post (which is a pretty liberal paper) is just trying to make Scott look really bad. But she does work for Michele Bachmann. And, as I just learned in my social psych textbook, birds of a feather flock together.

This article, talks about John Becker and his refusal to pay for therapy sessions he scheduled as part of a sting operation to reveal that a clinic used reparative therapy - ones that are supposed to "turn" gay people straight. Here's the deal - the clinic Becker went to is a Christian counseling center in suburban Minneapolis, run by Marcus Bachmann, Michele Bachmann's husband. Now, Marcus Bachmann denies that his practice does any such counseling. But the thing is, Becker's video of the session he attended seems pretty convincing. And as Michele Bachmann refuses to talk about it, saying it's not important in regards to her campaign, there isn't a whole lot of clear light shed on the issue.

Here's my take: I don't like it when the media gets too deeply involved in a politician's background or past mistakes. Sometimes it's just too much and blown out of proportion (Bill Clinton did pot? This is Jack's lack of surprise). Sometimes it's just a violation of privacy. Besides, nobody's perfect - there's going to be mistakes in a candidate's past. But there's a level of knowledge you NEED to have about a candidate, not only to support their issues and empathize, but to TRUST them. Knowing whether or not your candidate thinks homosexuality can be "cured" by therapy? Big fucking deal to me. As far as I'm concerned, Bachmann is totally unelectable unless she discusses what her husband's clinic does. Yes, I know there's a level of patient confidentiality there - I'm a psych major, for God's sake - but discussing what sort of therapies one uses doesn't break that confidentiality. It's a simple yes or no question, really.

So if Marcus Bachmann's clinic has nothing to hide, why won't either one of them talk about it? A very good question in deed.

Also, all of you Bachmann haters out there, don't blame Minnesota for her. Please realize that she represents only ONE district of our state. And that I had absolutely nothing to do with her election. So haters - be hatin' elsewhere.

Psychology Student Syndrome

There's a major issue with being a psych student, especially one who's taken abnormal psychology. There's a tendency called psychology student syndrome, also known as"generalized disorder disorder." It goes basically like this: You learn about a disorder, you suddenly recognized parts of yourself in it. And you totally flip a shit.

For example, last year I learned about borderline personality disorder and what it consisted of. The definition in the DSM is as follows:

Pervasive pattern of instability of interpersonal relationships, self-image, and affects, and marked impulsivity (5 or more):

• Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment
• Pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships
• Alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation
• Identity disturbance; unstable sense of self
• Impulsivity in at least 2 self-damaging ways (sex, spending)
• Recurrent suicidal, self-mutilating behaviors (inc. gestures)
• Affective instability, reactivity of mood
• Chronic feelings of emptiness
• Inappropriate expressions of anger
• Transient, stress-related ideation, dissociative symptoms

I, of course, instantly starting if it could apply to me. Dumb, right? I don't really match the symptoms very well. But when you start looking at them loosely, it gets kind of scary. Have I ever frantically been worried about being abandoned? Well, yeah - that was like half of high school there, wondering why people actually wanted to be friends with me and wondering when they would leave (because, truthfully, I've never had friends that lasted very long. [uber gay] takes the prize - ten years, man. I can hardly believe it). My whole sudden extreme obsessions/crushes on people seemed to fit bullet number 2. Also, I've been known to totally love something, then hate it (Twilight, anyone? But I think that's a special case).

The unstable sense of self... that's the one that worries me. I remember talking about this in AP Psych, about how some people think Marilyn Monroe was borderline because she wanted to be like the characters she portrayed; she wanted to become who she was playing. Some theorize that she didn't have an actual sense of self, so she had to envelope herself in a fictional persona to ground herself in a personality.

This freaked me out as a teenager, mainly because I was changing so much. Who I was as a person changed from year to year (well, it still does in some ways) and nothing felt consistent. Also, it doesn't help that when people ask me to tell them something about myself, I sort of freeze (because the question is so ponderous - where to even begin?) I think I misinterpret this as NOT having a clear personality, when in fact I just have a slightly complex one - and that I'm not good at spontaneously giving personal answers (seriously adding in the new blog description up there took like half an hour tonight. Also, this blog has changed like ten million times... God, don't even start, [L Maga]... don't even start).

I could go on, describing how I've felt the semblance of all the other symptoms at some point in my life. But I'll spare you. But that's the key issue here - these are all things that people may feel at some point. We're all human and have similar experiences, after all. Having a disorder of this nature means these symptoms are experienced in the EXTREME, that totally interrupt your life and may be harmful to yourself and/or others. That's something my professor emphasized on the first day of Abnormal Psych. But it's easy to forget that when your reading your textbook and, suddenly, a description of a disorder sounds exactly like what happened to you last Thursday. It's a slippery, slippery slope. So be nice to psych majors - there's a reason why some of us are a little weird (but do stop freaking out that we're constantly psychoanalyzing you. Don't be silly - we aren't. We're just doing it to ourselves :p).

Changes

I was standing in my room on my birthday, looking out the window and watching it snow, listening to "Science and Religion" from the movie Angels and Demons playing on my iPod and I felt like everything had changed. Changed for the better. I mean, just a few days before, I was feeling a bit down. I felt like I was a bad friend, unable to connect and comfort when those I care about need me. I felt misunderstood, for about the two hundredth time in my life, and for no obvious reason. I was having that stupid fear again that I'm actually borderline (this needs more explanation than I can provide here. Later, my friends. Later). I was wondering if I actually can understand people or if I'm just some kind of alien being that pretends to understand but really doesn't get it because... well, because I'm an alien.

This is, of course, ridiculous. And not true. Just because I feel misunderstood and cut-off and confused every once in a while does not make me not human. I think that's just a basic part of humanity - to fear that you don't understand. When clearly, it seems I do. [Львица] keeps saying all these wonderfully kind things about me, showing that all my worries are unfounded and baseless. All the well-wishing I received on my birthday made me realize that people do not in fact dislike me or ignore we or not care about me. And that I am a nice person who should be nicer to herself.

For some reason, I've been waking up in the morning feel like anything is possible. I mean, I'm not really that pessimistic - but I'm never this much of an optimist. I feel like all my dreams could come true. I feel like I took the right step, did the right thing, am finally moving in the right direction. Towards what, I don't know. But it all feels like this:

Sitting in O'Donnovans on my birthday, hearing Mumford and Sons and Van Morrison blasted out of the speakers above me made me feel oddly magical. There I was, sitting in an Irish pub on my birthday that was somehow magically a bunch of my favorite songs, like they were doing it on purpose. It was ridiculous, but I felt like I was supposed to be there at that moment, that I was chosen for something, that everything was happening for a reason. It was probably just birthday elation getting to me, but I don't know... I went to the gym to work out today, for the first time since high school, and I felt this odd sort of determination I haven't had in a long time. It's not that I've been totally lackluster about things - I mean, I have been bored with classes and going through mood swings (but that's rather typical for me). What I've been feeling is some part of me awakening that was some dormant, or some new part of me I'm no longer afraid to show. I kind of feel... well, I feel utterly comfortable with myself. And it's a nice change.

So fuck that shit about not feeling good enough, about thinking that there's something wrong with me and that, because I'm different I'm not right, not normal, not human, that because people don't talk to me much and because I have few friends that it means I'm a bad person. Fuck that. None of that is true. There's a difference between helpfully criticizing yourself and being a hazard to your personal well-being. I think I've been too much of the later. But no more - none of that. I know I'm a crazy, moody Scorpio but this time I think this attitude is going to stick around. Maybe 21 is the age where I finally stop being so negative about myself, for once and for all. Maybe, this time, I'll live up to all my talking and actually walk the walk and be what I am.

The Internet and Social Psych

With this SOPA business in the news and fresh off a social psychology test on de-individuation, I thought it was time to investigate my own internet identity on this blog.

We were discussing in my psych class how anonymity on the internet can lead to terrible things - child porn, bullying, insults thrown everywhere, Godwin's law. Because we're anonymous, we have the chance to de-individuate - to loose ourselves amongst a vast crowd, to get carried away and possible commit terrible, terrible acts.

That's not to say the internet is to blame for all of these problems. Or that de-individuation is always bad (it's not - you could get swept up with a mass of people doing wonderful things. That's just sadly less frequent). There's just an interesting correlation there. SO, after thinking about this, I decided to include my first name, as I'd done before, on my blog identity, simply because I couldn't rationalize being completely anonymous. Besides, I would like to reference this blog on a resume and not freak out would-be employers by identifying myself only as [Nazi Vampire Hunter] online. And if my friends haven't identified my by now... then fine. Yes, I'm still most likely presenting myself online differently than I would in person... mainly because I have the freedom to say whatever and you can't exactly get someone to shut up mid-post (unless you stop reading of course). But [Nazi Vampire Hunter] is just too cool not to use in some fashion... and it's nicely fitting to an aspect of my personality, I'd like to think. Especially in the realm of culture writing. So a Nazi Vampire Hunters I shall remain... just not a completely nameless one :)

Quick note as of 2/2/12: I have changed my online name to [La Maga] for random reasons. Mainly because getting people searching "Nazi Vampires eating babies" and ending up at my blog kinda weirds me out.

21

It's happened... I'm officially 21 years old. It's incredible. Actually, yesterday was just incredible in general. Here's the basic run-down of my big, fat twenty-first birthday:

Around eleven o'clock, I started getting ready for my parents to come pick me up. I got a phone call from [X], with [the artist] yelling in the background, both wishing me a happy day. It was a slightly awkward conversation because I got the feeling [X] didn't quite know what to say, but I didn't care - I was glad she called. Then I realized it was snowing - oh, joy of joys! - and my hopes and dreams and prayers for snow on my birthday were answered. Except that I think maybe I'd been hoping a little too much... we got quite a bit more snow than I was expecting. But win - total win!

Due to the sudden onslaught of snow, my parents were a little later than expected, but no matter. We headed over to Brit's Pub, where I had two Strongbows, talked way too much about Scotland, and ate Scotch eggs. Then we ambled over to The Local, had Irish coffee and fish and chips (and got carded - for the first and last time of the day. I was rather shocked. Only one out of three waitresses thought I looked younger than 21? I was surprised. "Are you telling me that I could have tried this long ago and not gotten carded?" I asked my dad. "Probably," he replied. "I can tell by body language - waitresses always treat you like you're older." I must admit this was a bit anti-climatic. Oh well.) Then we crossed the street to The Newsroom, which used to have really good food, but now it was just kind of mediocre. My crab mac and cheese was far too salty. And I made myself content with water because my mom ordered a margarita, didn't even like how it was mixed and discovered it was $11. Shit.

So, to make up for that blip, we went to O'Donnovans, another Irish pub, had another Irish coffee and got free samples of this cake-flavored vodka by Three Olives. Now, flavored vodka always kind of sounded gross to me. BUT THIS WAS FANTASTIC. Mixed with pineapple juice and amaretto, it made this drink that tasted like pineapple upside-down cake. It was really brilliant. So my dad ordered a drink called coffee cake, that included the flavored vodka, Bailey's Irish cream, and coffee (and whipped cream. Absolutely has to have whipped cream). The bartender accidentally made a shot as well, so we got two drinks for the price of one and shared them. My dad then told the girls doing the promoting that it was my birthday, so I got my picture taken with them and a free tiara, which I then proceeded to wear until we left the bar, when I decided that I was tired and a total light-weight and it was time to go home. So home I went to discover what present my parents had bought me (a gift set of two shot glasses and Jameson Irish whiskey - for the win :D ) and to watch SNL (and a brilliant performance by Florence + The Machine) with [Львица].

Sadly I had a stomach ache for most of the night and a better part of this morning (too much food, too much alcohol, too much sweet stuff, too much fun) but other than that it was absolutely perfect. It was the best birthday ever. And it's made me feel that things are only going to get better from here. Thanks to everyone for their warm birthday wishes and gifts - the kindness and generosity I saw made me all warm and fuzzy and felt so loved. I have the best friends and family in the world :)

DAMMIT!

You're right, [Львица]... John Barrowman does kinda look like Tom Cruise. I realized that reading your wingman post this morning.

JESUS THIS IS WEIRD.

Sorry, Cruise... still like Barrowman way more. Just saying.

Guinness + Cupcakes = Weird Dreams

Figure 1... I always hit my knees on the stools.

Another cry of help from my subconscious. Last night, after the birthday celebrating was done, I had an oddly real-feeling dream. I was back in the cafeteria of my junior high, sitting at one of those uncomfortable, round tables that have those circular plastic seats attached (see figure 1) with [uber gay] and [X]. Why it was those two and there, I have no idea. Anyway, there was apparently some convention going on or something, because there were a bunch of people sitting at tables around the room. We were in the center, near the front where the kitchens are, and there was this long table set up that people were hovering around. And there, sitting at the table, was John Barrowman. It seemed he was doing some sort of autograph signing. I was suddenly elated and also terrified. I wanted to meet him, to say hi, but I was so shy and nervous and afraid of to talk to him because I'd never talked to anyone that attractive. So I decided to stay at the table while [uber gay] and [X] gushed and got him to sign something. I felt like an idiot but decided to stay where I was because Barrowman did not seem to happy about [X] and [uber gay]'s gushing and I decided that he must have been rather jet-lagged. Then [X] and [uber gay] returned to the table to continue gushing. Which is funny, because I'm 98% sure that in real life, neither one of them knows who John Barrowman is. So yeah... it's weird on several different levels.

Also, anyone else think it's kind of sad that I can't even talk to a hot guy/ celebrity in my dreams? Stupid subconscious...

SURPRISE!!!!

I love surprises. Absolutely love them. So when I came home from class on Thursday to find this box sitting on the table, I was giddy with delight.

Cupcakes!!!!! From the cafe Cupcake no less. I was sooooo happy. However, I soon realized that this was just the beginning of the gift finding. I walked into my room and was face-to-face with this:

There was a card with it, with a wonderfully sweet message from [Львица]. I began getting paranoid that something was going to jump out at me. So I looked in my closet and found this:

Cute t-shirt for the win! And then I closed the closet door to find this:

A Guinness poster - from Ireland! [Львица]'s father bought it there years ago and bequeathed it me. I owe you one, sir - I absolutely adore this. I thought that was it. Until I walked into the kitchen and found this on the fridge:

And then...

GUINNESS!!!!!!!!!!

My life was made - cupcakes, ample attractive pictures of the lovely John Barrowman, and Guinness. There is truly nothing more I need in life. Except that [Львица] seemed to disagree. Because as we were going out to dinner, I found two gift cards (and two more John Barrowman pics) taped to my coat and scarf - one for a cafe, one for a ice cream shop. Seriously, could it get better?

It did. I got gnocchi and calamari at Buca Di Beppos, had my first experience with restaurant waiters singing a birthday song to me (I felt so special!!!!). And when I got home, I nearly died laughing to find that I'd been carrying another gift in my purse the entire time - a mustache flask :D It was fantastic.

And then I found the last Guinness hiding in the medicine cabinet (the other had been with Mo's food and I'd discovered it before we went to dinner). Note to self - [Львица] is EXTREMELY GOOD at surprises and hiding things. It was a totally victory on her part and I much appreciate it. Thank you so much, m'dear - it really means a lot to me :)

It's not even my birthday yet and things are already fantastic. Looking forward to tomorrow - dinner with my parents and my first drink in an American bar. Epic win :D

Dreaming Who and Other Nonsense

Monday night I had a dream that I was reading some history book that kept talking about a person named the Doctor who did such and such in some event and I realized that it had to be talking about Doctor Who and I got excited that I had evidence that the Doctor was real.

This is a plea for help from my subconscious, isn't it?

Last night, I dreamed that [X] proposed to her boyfriend, simply because someone we know from high school is engaged (that last part is actually true). And then I also dreamed about the US government chasing after me, something in regards to either time travel or SOPA. Wow... just... wow.

SOPA, Part II

I hope this is all a big misunderstanding between internet users and the US government. Because Tumblr is totally freaking me out today with this censorship thing. But according to [Львица]'s sister, it's "IRS spam." Or, later, as she said, "Congress wants to end my life. Cool!" Ah, the life of American teenagers... and the crux of first world problems.