Absense makes the heart grow fonder

I have been away from this blog for far too long. It's not that I haven't had things to talk about (I've had plenty) I just found myself busy with other things - summer classes, novel writing, gallivanting about Minneapolis, musing greatly on the elegance of hedgehogs (both blog-wise and novel-wise). I've also found myself thinking greatly about change and feeling much more accepting of it than in the past. Especially as one of my friends from high school got married this summer and, as she was the first to do so in my group of friends, it was a big leap for me mentally. But if there are perfect couples in the world, [action is eloquence] and her husband are it.

www.facebook.com/pages/J-May-Images/142770071996

Also, some time ago I was nominated for the Most Versatile Blogger award by MAG (many thanks for this!)

And I am thus-wise required to provide a list of 7 bloggers who are relatively new to blogging. I don't really have any, so I'm just providing the links to 7 blogs I really love:

1) The Slow Show  / /The Pochyemuchka Diaries  (same blogger, two blogs, so I'm going to count it as one :D)
2) The Black Hole Symposium 
3) Recalculating Route
4) The Jane Austen Film Club
5) Valknut
6) Hollywood Hates Me
7) Atalanta's Antics

I love them all. :D

So that's all for now. More updates coming soon, I think with school starting up again I'll have random stuff to yammer about. But if I'm not around, feel free to check out my other blog: Martin Freeman is not a hedgehog. Cheers!

Pride

So, for the first time I went to Minneapolis's Pride a couple of weekends ago. I have one thing to implore the city of Minneapolis: Why can't you be this warm and welcoming all the time?

http://images.stuffofawesome.com/minneapolis-pride-1309122003-1014.jpg

Really, people were so happy and delighted to be out in the bright summer weather, walking up and down Hennipen and talking to one another when most of the time walking down Hennipen results in people ignoring you or walking into whilst talking on their cell phones. Also, the mayor of Minneapolis rode down the street on a motorcycle. I think this should definitely happen more often. 

http://metromag.com

I was also at the Saloon's block party that evening (after getting terribly sunburned watching Italy win in the quarter finals of soccer/football/calcio on the rooftop of a pub in Minneapolis called the Brit) and was reminded of how short I am after being surrounded by guys all over six feet tall. I also met a guy from Canada who remarked on our voting situation this fall. Come November, Minnesotans are voting as to whether marriage is defined as a union between a man and a woman or not. The "not" refers to supporting gay marriage. So, basically, in order to support GLBT rights, one has to vote "no" which feels very, very bizarre. However, the man from Canada I was talking to found the whole idea of voting on human rights more bizarre. "They kept asking me to fill out these pledge cards," he said, "and I just couldn't understand the idea of voting on human rights. I mean," he turned to me, "that's like voting to allow women to vote."

This just in: Canadians are freaking brilliant.

Overall, it was a marvelous weekend. I also saw the movie Brave, which was fantastic (you can read a review of it on my sister blog, Martin Freeman is not a Hedgehog. Yep, that's actually the name of my blog. Weird, I know).

The War Between Us

I meant to write a post on this ages ago but never got around to it because... well, because of reasons. But I saw this Facebook post from my friend and former flute instructor [Mickie] and felt that I should definitely get around to writing this:

Let me give the back story on this: last year, [Mickie] lost her job at the local middle school she'd been working at since I'd first met her (and long before that too). Despite tenure, despite her obvious skill and talent, she lost her job along with my high school band teacher and choir directors. Aside from hating to see such talented people unfairly lose their jobs and having some of the strongest bonds to my hometown cut through, it was another warning sign of what's happening to music programs in the US. One hidden blessing from my failed audition to the School of Music at my university is that I don't have to worry about the difficulties of finding a job in that field, which are scarce and far between, even for people with a lot of experience.

But fortunately for [Mickie], she was able to find another job at a middle school in a nearby town. Sadly, she also lost this job this year due to, what else, budget issues and staff cutbacks. Because the fine arts are "expensive" and reap less benefits to a school district than, say, football, fine arts programs are the first to go.

Also, articles like this don't help. As if "determined by science" could mean anything here.

I hate it when people play the "art vs. science" card. They've been designed to be opposites for ages, even though they got together like peanut butter and Nutella (this is the best thing on the planet. Trust me). Art can't function without science and science can't function without art. Need proof of this? Take a look at your common household plant. Aesthetically, they've very pleasing; artists have been painting still lifes of flowers and plants for many a century. But plants are also scientifically brilliant, with their photosynthesis and fertilization structure. And did you know they can get fevers? (I learned that from a Snapple cap). Point is, there is no reason for anyone to argue that art and science don't work together.

But somewhere, somehow, the philosophy behind these two fields found themselves apposed and now we're in a war between the two of them, staking claims between what can be known and what can't, what is real and what isn't, what can be created and what can't. Really, I think it's all a communication issue. Because I mean, look at this:

http://education.ezinemark.com/most-amazing-science-images-of-2010-77369ad98736.html

This is the gene map of a plant called Arabidopsis. Sweet, right?


Okay, okay, so it's easy to find art in science. But what about science in art? Harder, admittedly, because certain kinds of science have tried to firmly drawn the line between what is actual science and what is... well, not. This was something my research methods class really shoved down our throats, which I think is fascinating considering my favorite parts of psychology are admittedly very unscientific. But look at any painting and you can see how visual perception and geometry and balance play vital roles. Music of course is highly based on physics. And acting... God, acting is a science of itself, doing a case study to figure out how another human being lives and become them on stage or screen.

http://nerdnirvana.org

I could meander on about the importance of arts but there's already this brilliant post on it. So read that, because it's really really good. It's a shame that things like subjects listed on Newsweek's Tumblr are thought of as useless because they were never useless to me. What surprises me are things like philosophy and architecture and history, for God's sake, and political science being useless. Really? Are you kidding me? When we have a million nurses and but no one understands how to communicate with each other or understand where we're coming from, don't say I didn't warn you. We need nurses, yes, but we also need them to understand bedside manner and the way people think and why, sometimes, you just need to sit back and think, "Jesus, a century ago we couldn't remove limbs without being terrified that the patient was going to die of gangrene and now we can do heart transplants. DUDE."

In order to really appreciate science, you need art. In order to really appreciate art, you need science. They aren't art war; they're two sides of the same coin. So stop making them fight - they belong together more than I think we'll ever completely understand. Give our artists and writers and thespians and historians a chance - you never know if they'll win a Nobel prize for physics or find the cure for cancer. And you never know if your med student is going to win a Pulitzer or and Grammy.

http://www.business-strategy-innovation.com/uploaded_images/Art-Science-773522.jpg

Why the USPS is dumb

So I'm supposed to be getting rent checks from tenants who aren't living on site right now and they haven't come through. Fearing it may be due to my change of address (I literally just moved down the hall from one apartment to another) I decided maybe I should do a forward address thing on the US Post Office's website so I could actually receive mail.

I filled out all the lines on the online form and was about to submit it when the last page told me it would cost $9.99 for the post office to "handle the change." Also my debit card had to be billed to either my old address or my new address, otherwise the card would be declined for me doing something fraudulent. This angered me for several reasons.

1) I'm pretty sure that my debit card is "billed" (because debit cards don't have bills) to my parents' house, which is technically still my permanent residence. I could change this, except the last time I checked, TCF Bank doesn't recognize that I have an actual account with them because I have this weird debit card program through the University and my card actually expires when I graduate so I should probably look into getting a different card... The point is, the USPS fails to take into account the weird living situations of college students. Which is kind of annoying.

2) I am not changing the billing address for my debit card for 12 months when there probably isn't any actual mail to forward and whatever I was supposed to get probably just got lost because -

3) The post office sucks. Really. WHO CHARGES 10 BUCKS FOR A CHANGE OF ADDRESS? "We need ten dollars to process your change." Really, do you? REALLY? Isn't dealing with change just what the post office is supposed to do on its own? People move! It happens!

So, US Post Office, I am not giving you $10 because I moved one unit over and I have a different mail box. If I don't get my Minnesota Opera updates, oh well. If there's anything else important I'm supposed to get, hopefully you will realize that I am still in this building and, though the apartment number is different, it should still be delivered here. Or just give it to 202. The girl living next door is very nice and I'm sure she won't mind giving me my mail. But for the love of God, please deliver the checks. They've been resent to my new address and I still haven't gotten them.

Screw you, USPS. Screw you.

Don't Let It Break Your Heart

Generally I wouldn't write a blog post about this sort of thing, but perhaps it's best to get it off my chest than trying to avoid it. It's easier for me to work through writing anyway, so here it goes.

Back in early April, while my parents were coming back from a spring break trip to visit family in Indiana, my mom had a heart attack. Fortunately enough they were back in Minnesota when it hit and somehow (miraculously, perhaps) they were able to find a clinic to stop at, where she was airlifted to Abbot Heart Hospital. I'd never visited anyone in the hospital before this and it is the strangest feeling, especially when it is one of your parents. She had three stents placed in her heart and found has a heart condition that is hereditary (and it's likely I have it too) called hypertropic cardiomyopathy that causes higher risk of heart attacks (yes, I like using big words). It was really serious, really scary, and really shocking, but my mom made a completely recovery. I spent my Easter there, playing Clue with my parents and watching the Twins lose their season opener and, while it was a little strange, it was okay. My mother was doing really well and, with medication, diet, and cardio rehab, things were great.

Then over Memorial weekend, another completely unrelated event sent my mom to the hospital. She had an umbilical hernia that was causing blockage and she needed immediate surgery. Again, it was serious, it was scary, and it was surprising, but she's out of the hospital as of Saturday and doing just fine. It's all a bit of a shock, made all the more surprising by how few health problems we've had in our family before. Sure, we have a long history of health problems (I have a great uncle who died at 10 of a heart attack; if you look up stuff on the heart condition that my family has you'll understand why) but nothing that's immediately affected either of my parents. It's been kind of rough.

But I can't let it get me down. Things could be worse. I'm just so grateful that my mom is such a strong woman and has dealt with all this marvelously. She amazes me.

That Year

It's hard for me to believe that just a year ago, I was in Scotland right now (I include the above song because I heard it in a clothing store in Glasgow. Every time I hear this cover, I think of that city). And now, here I am, sitting on my parent's deck, having weird sensations of déjà vu, drinking a gin and tonic, worrying about things (as always), and watching postings come up on Tumblr about the BAFTAS (because, sadly, they are not live-streamed).

I just can't believe it was a year ago.

I've changed so much since then. I've gained and lost so much since then.

Yet some days it feels like it was just yesterday.

And now I miss it more than ever.

Which is why, shortly before the end of the school year, I decided that when I graduate I'm moving to the UK. Unless something un-forseen happens, I plan on finding a flat in London for next September, a city I haven't been to since I was sixteen and have missed ever since. I miss these places, in all honesty, more than I miss some of my friends. I feel like a stranger in my own hometown and, if song lyrics are to be regarded as philosophy, perhaps that means it's time to leave.

I guess I finally decided to post this today, thought I've been meaning to for weeks, because I've hit some sort of resolution. Some of my friends are no longer my friends. Bad things happen, whether you're here or there. It's your life and you should do what you want. And I want to go to London.

Although, goddammit, New York is trying rather hard to seduce me too. :)

The thing is, in one year I'll be leaving Minneapolis.  I love this amazing, brilliant city, but my heart is being called elsewhere. Somewhere I can easily take a cab, where there are so many opportunities to do things I never dreamed of, where I can have good reason to feel like a somebody and a nobody all at once. Minneapolis will always be my first real home, but I'm the sort of person that has more than one. And while I love New York, I feel my heart drawn across the pond for reasons I can't really describe. I just want to experience, long term, what it feels like to be a foreigner. I want to know what it's like to find oneself in a country you weren't born in. I want to make mistakes and sound funny and dream of improbable things. I want to have one of the largest cities in the world become everyday to me and yet never lose its magic.

I want to do something people didn't expect of me. Because I am more than one person's expectations. Maybe I'll be back in Minneapolis after a year or two, maybe I won't. Maybe I'll settle down in London, maybe I won't. Maybe I'll publish a book before I graduate and settle down in Chelsea and live in a posh little flat with a view of the Thames. Maybe I'll be broke and living in Kelvingrove Park in Glasgow. Who knows?

But let's find out, shall we? :D

Extremely Loud and Too Close

Have you ever had one of those friends you wonder how exactly you end up hanging out with them because you don't really like them and yet you enjoy hanging out with them because they're totally insane?

This is essentially how my acquaintanceship/ friendship with [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] works. He awkwards me out, he makes an average situation suddenly far more complicated than it needs to be, and you can't walk down the street without him talking to random passerbys. However, he has fantastic stories about drunkenly driving golf carts into ponds and getting multiple DWIs. I'm not saying he's a good, safe person to be around. But he is... interesting.

A few weeks before school got out, I went to an Eric Hutchinson concert at First Avenue with [save the panzer], his brother, another friend, and [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying]. After the phenomenal show, they decided to get food at a nearby Rainbow store. One of the automatic doors wasn't working and [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] ran into it. He confusedly followed us into through the exit. He then loudly shouted to the store employees whether the store was open, since the entrance doors were locked. They responded that they were in fact open (which was assumable, as we were standing in the store now) and we slowly gathered our food items.

Now, apparently upon entering the store, one of my classmates was at the checkout and I must have looked right at her. I didn't see her, as I was trying not to die of embarrassment. A week or two later, she asked me if I'd been at that Rainbow lately. At first I was confused and realized what she must have been talking about. "Wait, was I with a really loud guy?" I asked. "Yeah," she replied, "he seemed really drunk." "Oh, he wasn't drunk. He hadn't even had anything to drink yet. You should see him when he's drunk," I assured her astonished expression.

And trust me, I have seen him drunk. This guy is the sort who makes vodka and juice concoctions with so much more vodka than juice the ice cubes go glassy and clear. He was pretty wasted on [save the panzer]'s birthday. So much so that he started humping a vace-shaped sculpture on Nicollet Mall. So, sorry, people of Minneapolis, if this man has been responsible for making your average night strange and uncomfortable. I am not responsible - he is a fully grown man who is entirely capable of following his own guidance. And it is a free country. Why he continues to hang out with younger people, I don't know. I actually don't know how old he is; he jokingly told the cab driver on [save the panzer]'s birthday that he was 45. His age and/or birth year are not on Facebook so doing the math to figure it out is no good. Doesn't matter. He could be from the 51st century for all I know.

That would be rather awkward.

Much like this photo.

Yeah, that pretty much says it all. Me laughing and crying at the same time. Accurate.

Catching Up

I've been away from here for quite a while, with the end of the semester and moving into a new apartment. I've got a series of half-finished posts but I just haven't gotten around to finishing them. They will get finished, but until then, here's an earworm I can't get out of my head:

Henri

[Львица] just discovered these videos and, as we were just discussing existentialism in one of my classes today, I felt the need to share them. Brilliant... they are brilliant.

Sci-Fi/Fantasy

I have a confession to make. I am a total sci-fi fan.

Most of you probably already knew this. Or maybe you didn't. I did, I just never fully realized this until we watched Star Trek and Firefly in my television class. And I saw Thor with my parents (Oh. My. God. That movie was fantastic. Considering that Thor is the Avenger I know the least about, I was totally pleased and ecstatic about it).

http://www.comingsoon.net/

I think part of my lack of realization about this interest is that I was never really good at paying attention to genre. Did I care if there were spaceships and aliens intermingling with an interesting plot line? No, but it was certainly a nice perk. It has recently occurred to me that not everyone grew up watching Star Trek with their father and discussing how it capitulates the deeper philosophies of life. Not all kids read Tuck Everlasting 20 times in elementary school (this book is sci-fi/fantasy. A family that can live forever? Of course it is!) And a lot of people probably didn't read The Hobbit at age 10 and think it was fantastic but not actually understand what was going on until much later. Yes, I know that book is written more for children. Yes, I know that it shouldn't be that hard to understand. But I was terribly distracted by trying to fathom what a hobbit was because I'd never heard of them before. I was also ten and just because I had a good vocabulary didn't mean I was good at understanding plots (much to my dismay, my friend [X] read The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings ridiculously young and knows a ridiculous amount about anything Tolkein. I don't know how she know is all... probably because she read The Silmarillion ages ago and I'm just now getting to it. Regardless, it's a little hard to talk about it with her because it ends up sort of insulting to intelligence. Just because I've been a bit slow on the uptake).

http://www.startrek.com/

I admit that I'm not familiar with sci-fi/fantasy that isn't pretty mainstream. I haven't read Dune, I haven't read Mercedes Lackey (like my "real" fantasy literature-reading friends). I also fail to clearly articulate the differences between science fiction and graphic novels, as expressed by my inclusion of Thor in this discussion. But it came to my attention during discussions of sci-fi shows in my television class that some people don't even like the mainstream stuff. Aliens weird some people out. Hurtling through space and time makes them uncomfortable. Discussion of faeries interwoven into modern day city-life gets looks of confusion. For some reason, I know way too much about pookas. And then I begin to realize that I did not learn this stuff in school, I didn't even learn it on TV. I learned it from reading a very particular sub-genre of books. One not everyone encounters.

My initial reaction was this:

(Oh, no; I just had this great and terrible vision of the rest of my life being comprised of nothing but lines of dialogue from Sherlock.)

But then it struck me why so many people might shy away from sci-fi/fantasy. To be honest, sometimes I do as well. And that's because of the Sy Fy channel and B movies. They have a lot of badly made, awkward sci-fi. If all you know about science fiction was that, you'd shy away from it too. Fortunately for me, I never saw Sy Fy channel until I was a teenager, so I was saved the trauma of having that as my first experiences with the genre.

I can understand why sci-fi may not be everyone's cup of tea; it takes some suspension of belief and an acceptance that weird shit may and can happen. After reading Phillip K. Dick, I accept that I like this. That fact that I was enjoying Radio Free Albemuth and not totally confused out of my mind I think shows that I've just developed a different taste for things that other people may not necessarily have. On that note, I'm going to go geek out about the new Star Trek movie and enjoy reading people's bets on who the villain will be.

Welcome new follower!

http://30.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_le27s5TuUs1qei4vno1_500.gif

I don't know why I used a Mean Girls gif. Don't question it.

So Close and Yet So Far...

I totally don't know where this year went. I have less than a month of school left and here I am standing, trying to keep totally still in a river current that's yearning to push me forward. After a rather unusual Easter and a sudden surge of homework, I'm kind of reeling from exhaustion and exhilaration. Because it's almost the end of the school year. I can almost taste it.

http://www.cybersalt.org/images/stories/cleanlaugh/cats/catlook.jpg

There is no point to this post or this picture. But I like the picture.

Group Projects

http://www.lolbrary.com/content/402/what-i-learn-from-group-projects-14402.jpg

Yep. Pretty much.

Living Alone

 I saw this article some time ago in the New York Time: One is the Quirkiest Number. Apparently this is what I have to look forward to next year.

http://cdn.freshome.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/08/apartment_bar.jpg

I guess as a college student this entire article seems strange to me. I mean, many of us students live on our own. But this seems to emphasize, especially for other older adults, that those who don't live with another person are strange weirdos who talk to inanimate objects (wait, you mean the "normal" population of American don't to this? I think everyone I know has yelled at their computer at least once; maybe they should rethink this). I get the feeling this article is saturated with the idea that those who live alone are destined to become odd, reclusive hermits that will never get married and have two hundred cats. You know the stereotype.

You can guess how I feel about this.

(Also, I don't know who's apartment looks like that photo, but let me express my extreme jealousy. I live in a brownstone; I can't quite fathom how apartment units like the above exist (or how anyone can afford them.))

And yet, New York Times ran this other contradictory article as well: Living Alone Means Being Social. Basically, the author states that living alone actually leads to more social interaction.

Two articles, published in the same paper in the same month, saying different things. Not completely contradictory things (I mean, the author of the first never says that the quirky live-aloners are exactly hermits). But there's definitely a different portrayal of the two. The first living alone sound freeing if perilous; the second makes it sound European and chic.

Here's the deal: people live alone. It's not going to be the same experience for everyone; you can't just come out and say "all people who live alone are like blah." Because I know basic psychology and that's crap. Probably, this is just my beef with journalists trying to clearly state how things are in culture when nothing is quite clear. And I'm still pissed that they think living alone will cause me to eat peanut butter completely naked in my kitchen; for all you know, I already do that (hahaha, I don't). Point is, saying that because more people are now recently living alone doesn't mean "the human species is discovering a new way to live;" it might be a little early to call the card on that trend (considering the study of suburbia and urban life is a rather recent phenomenon in itself). But maybe there is something to it (from a cultural standpoint, I say yes).

Doesn't mean I'm going to start eating peanut butter from the jar while completely naked in the kitchen though (and in retrospect, that seems like an extremely precise idea; perhaps the journalist was trying to tell us something :P).

Google is intent on turning me into a creep, or: Ooh boy... this is worse than I thought...

Apparently if you Google "Benedict Cumberbatch about future wife" this blog is a possible result (thank you, Stats info on Blogger, for showing me search results that led to my blog and thus leading to this awkward realization).

I'm not exactly sure how to feel about this... Confused? Slightly flattered? Disturbed? (Oh yeah, definitely disturbed). And yet...

http://northphoenixagent.files.wordpress.com/2007/10/shocked-face-of-little-girl.jpg

http://www.rateyourburn.com/blog/Uploads/awkward-face.png

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtM0cZ9cZcLE8Jw5UUh3Znan8vGSoUe7vXwdyCr9tO4GOQVqwe2KE5yWeE9c6KBSxsS_i2Vn4GqwzghHa6a4FrK1YXwzklqd8mCjNxxCUw5jBskTyvrf7kJs-Qp7DNGUX173AOwtXakj8/s1600/Goofy+smile.jpg

Yeah... that pretty much sums it up. Except for Brad Pitt's bloody nose; actually, the bloody nose is possibly accurate (considering I feel like punching myself in the face. How did I let my fangirling come to this? How? HOW? I'M NOT EVEN THAT MUCH OF A FANGIRL! THE POST IT LINKS TO IS HARDLY EVEN RELEVANT! I HAVE GOT TO STOP EXPRESSING MY INTENSE EMOTIONS THROUGH THE POWER OF CAPS LOCKS!)

I apologize for the weirdness. It's a Tuesday; what can I say?

http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lj6tjhd41d1qcr8tuo1_r4_500.gif

Only in Minnesota

http://www.inquisitr.com/wp-content/2012/02/Zamboni-Machine1.jpg

I saw this article some time ago on Star Tribune and I felt the urge to share it because... well, this sort of thing probably wouldn't happen in other parts of the United States:

Apple Valley Zamboni driver tested at 0.32 alcohol level

Oh, Minnesota... just oh.

Punk'd

It's not even April Fools and already I think [Львица] and I have already encountered our first practical joke of the season.

I had just come back to the apartment on Tuesday after class to make lunch and to finish up a paper I had to write when someone knocked on the door. I opened it find our tenant from 304 (who we've not exactly had the easiest time with) looking very upset. She then proceeded to explain to me that she had been gone over spring break and, after she'd returned, noticed that these pod-like things that she thought might be insects had appeared on the walls of her kitchen-dining room area. I decided to to take a look.

I had never seen anything like it in my life. Now, to frame this properly, it's been very warm in Minnesota, very very warm for March and I thought it very likely that something odd could have occurred given the sudden warm spell and that some creature could have found its way out of the walls. Upon examining them in the kitchen, which 304 had sealed off, afraid that some insects would escape and get all over her apartment, the only thing I could compare them to in my mind were prune-like growths sticking horizontally off of the wall. It seemed one was attached to a nail but I didn't think much of it at the time. I told 304 I'd Google search it and I'd get back to her.

They weren't beetle lava, they weren't chrysalis, they weren't spider egg sacs or fungi or anything that Google could even identify. Other than prunes. I told [Львица] about it and, later that evening when 304 wasn't there, we returned to examine them ourselves with a more perceptive eye. Gingerly, [Львица] pried one off the wall, a plastic bag over her hand, and we found it was also on a nail. We removed eight of these things, all of them on nails, and took them in a bag into our apartment.

The "pods" on the wall, as taken by [Львица]

My hand holding up a small key to compare size to the "pod"

We began really seriously wondering if the "pods" were large raisins or some kind of prune. It's what they looked like most and some were even kind of greenish, like dried raisins sometimes are. So, after I failed to find any way of scientifically testing them in our kitchen, we sliced one open, looked at it, sniffed it, and decided that it must be a raisin (or some unknown alien life form; highly unlikely at this point). Knowing 304 has a friend in the building, we wondered if it was a practical joke (as 304 told me she is dreadfully terrified of insects. And that she'd asked her friend from apartment 2 i for our phone numbers (as she'd lost her phone earlier in the semester and apparently didn't have either building manager's number re-added) but her friend had never gotten back to her).

What do I think? I'm not detective (as much as I wish I was) but I presume that 2 did this as a practical joke and 304 really flipped out and got us involved. But we haven't heard back from 304. Guess we'll just have to wait and see if those "pods" reappear.

Seriously, people. This was half of my Tuesday. I have the weirdest job in the world.

First Class

To end my adventures in Florida, somehow, inexplicably, I ended up in first class on the first leg of my life. It was a dream come true.

http://travelbestway.org/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/air-travel.jpg

Here's how it went down: after getting up at four in the morning (eastern time) to catch our flights, I said goodbye to [Львица] as we were in separate parts of the massive Orlando Airport and made my way through security line, where I was taken aside, had my bag rustled through and my hat complemented on by the nicest TSA agent I have ever met (seriously, he told me to put my sandals on because the floor was a bit cold. SIR, I SALUTE YOU). I then took the wrong tram to the wrong terminal but quickly realized my mistake and easily got on the right one. I then went to the wrong gate, which was directly across from the one I was supposed to be at, moved over, and watched CNN talk about Kate Middleton giving out shamrocks for Saint Patrick's Day and then decided Kate Middleton is amazing. Not long after this, a woman working at the gate called my name and I went up to the desk. She asked me if it would be okay if they changed my seat and I said sure. She offered me a seat near an emergency exit and I said it would be fine. Then she printed out a new boarding pass and said something along the lines of, "You'll really like this one."

I sat back down, looked at it and realized it said "priority boarding." Seat 3D - FIRST CLASS. HOW THE HELL DID THAT HAPPEN?! I couldn't decide if it had something to do withe my delay on the way to Orlando (getting stuck in Boston for three hours), or it was because of some seating issue and I was traveling alone and easy to move, or if it was just pure luck. Regardless, Delta - kudos. You have regained my trust. I got food and real glassware and real silverware and a hot towel and leg room and I WANT TO FLY THIS WAY ALL OF THE TIME.

Not gonna happen. But I can dream. Life tile made - and I didn't even expect it :D

Of Surf and Sunburn

I am back from Florida, slightly sunburned, slightly sick (caught a cold while there or while in the airport; yay), and already longing to go back to the ocean. OH MY GOD WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME IT'S JUST AS ROMANTICALLY SPECTACULAR AS I'D ALWAYS DREAMED?! If you can't tell, I am very happy to have finally been IN the ocean. Not seeing it in the lagoon in Venice; not touching the North Sea in St. Andrews, Scotland. But being TOTALLY SUBMERGED in salty, powerful waves in the Atlantic. If you live in Florida, and don't go to the beach, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?

Oh, wait, that's [uber gay]. Sorry about that, mate. (Really, when he went with us to the beach while he was there, it was only the third time he'd done for something that didn't involve gathering meteorological data).

Other than frolicking on the beach, collecting shells and having the most relaxing vacation of my life, I learned four very interesting things about the Sunshine State:

1) There are lizards everywhere. Seriously. They are more abundant than pigeons in Venice. These little geckos skitter across the concrete aimlessly and reside in every palm grove (and every time they rustle in the foliage, I was certain that a velociraptor was going to tear through the trees - because I've never seen forests like what Florida has except in Jurassic Park. Thus the fear of dinosaurs).

2) Sand gets fucking everywhere. Enough said.

3) One cannot buy alcohol while in the presence of under-aged people in a Walmart in Melbourne, FL (because they immediately assume that you are buying it for them, even when they say they are not going to drink it and that the ARE under-aged and are not trying to buy it illegally). I found this the hard way and then went on a diatribe about the stupidity of liquor laws in the United States and vowed to move to Britain in the parking lot of said Walmart (but you know, it's not really a trip to Walmart if I don't have a bitchfest in the parking lot afterwards). This is like the third time I've had trouble buying alcohol legally in my own country; what's with this?

4) Florida is fucking weird. Seriously, if the strange animals and plants and jellyfish suicides (we saw tiny dead jellies on the beach. It was unsettling) weren't enough, Florida people are... different. They are insane drivers. They have an accent that sounds like a blend of surfer and Southern. And they're... well, they're kind of racist. When students openly complain about the "stupid Saudis" that are terrible drivers that knock down light poles... well, I can tell I'm not in Minnesota anymore. Guess I take for granted that racism isn't as blatant up north. Florida is a totally different world.

[Львица] and me at the beach

But I finally saw the sea! I swam in it! I drank mead at an Irish restaurant! Great success and finally a college spring break trip. Brilliant. Life tiles made :D

Spring Breaking

http://www.eatmedaily.com/2009/02/saturday-night-live-im-on-a-boat-digital-short-video-snl/

I cannot believe it is finally Spring Break. I meant to write a post about my spring break plans (because I actually have some, for the first time ever) but I didn't get around to it until now. Considering I leave tomorrow, better late than never.

I am, somehow, going to Florida. Yes, Florida. My friend [uber gay] goes to school down there and, because I had frequent flyer miles left over (because, although I was supposed to have used them to fly to Scotland over the summer, I couldn't and thus still have had them lingering around) I'm able to fly to Florida mostly for free.

Probably why I didn't bring this up sooner is that I can't quite comprehend that I'm actually going. I mean, most people I know are, for once, not going anywhere on break. And I am. And I'm going somewhere tropical. Yes, I'll be staying in Melbourne, not Miami. And no, I don't think I'll be having crazy nights clubbing and drinking myself senseless (or will I?! No, seriously, I won't. I drink one beer and it's like I just ate a whole loaf of bread. I'm not much for wild drinking).

However, in honor of my trip, I would like to highlight a song for which I have deemed is the theme for the trip. So here it is:

Exactly. SPRING BREAK 2012!!!! WOOOOOT!!!

And just in case you think I truly am descending into a Bacchanalian revelry, I'd like to remind you who this blogger is. And that I've packed Frankenstein, Sherlock Holmes, a John Barrowman autobiography, and The Hobbit to read on the beach. The typical college student, I am not (or at least the stereotypical).

That's right, boys, I'm a Feminist...

So, with this whole current issue involving Rush Limbaugh, feminism has been on my mind a lot this week. And lo and behold if it didn't come an important issue in both my classes and my life...

We watched Mad Men in my television class (weirdly, right after I'd had a dream the day before about meeting Jon Hamm, one of the main actors from the show, at some sort of celebrity event. Why the hell I was there, I haven't a clue. Why I dreamed about an actor who's show I'd never seen until the next day I also can't explain) and our viewing about some ads used during the airing of Mad Men on AMC led to some discussion of feminism. It got kind of awkward because one guy in my class didn't see an ad as misogynist when many other kids did (just because the misogyny isn't blatant doesn't mean it's any better; in fact I would argue that's the general state of sexism today). Regardless, I had this lingering in the back of my mind and vexing me slightly as I went off to meet up with a girl from two of my classes to study for our midterms.  While in the midst of trying to explain what ethnomusicology was, one of her guy friends dropped by the study lounge where we were. Aside from being distracted from studying, the girl just stopped talking and ignored anything I said about the term at this point. The guy left and we tried to resume studying, during which she said, "Wow, I'm really distracted now." We started going over stuff and then she mentioned, "He's like one of my best friends. And I was embarrassed to sound so nerdy in front of him."

Ahem. Okay, lemme get this straight - you invite me over to study. You really are confused about this stuff. I'm trying to explain it to you, but you don't want to look "nerdy" in front of a friend? You're in the middle of a study session; you're supposed to be studying. It's not being nerdy, it's being a student!

Ignoring the fact that if she didn't want to look nerdy, I must look like a humongous nerd to her (don't care, won't care - am a nerd, will always be a nerd), I wondered exactly what her relationship is with this guy. I can think of only one reason a girl would not want to look "nerdy"/smart in front of a guy - and that's because she likes him. Because, for some explicable reason, many guys in my generation don't like smart girls.

Why? Probably because they're intimated, or don't want to look stupid, or don't want a girl who's clever enough not to take his bullshit, or don't want to argue with her, or - you get the idea. There are a plethora of possible reasons. And usually I wouldn't be so unkind to the male gender, but I'm rather pissed off about this. I mean, considering this might be one of the main reasons why guys want nothing to do with me, it's kind of an big issue. But, girls, here's what you need to know:

http://weasleycansaveanything.tumblr.com/post/18737413970

There you go. Right there. I can put it no better than that. If a guy doesn't like you for being smart, than he doesn't really like you or respect you. And thus he's not worth your time.

This, of course, makes me a feminist. Because I want to be treated like an equal, not an accessory. If you don't want a smart girl, TS, boys, TS. We don't want a guy dumb enough to say he DOESN'T want a smart girl. Because they're clearly operating from some previous state of being where they don't want a woman who's clever and can speak her mind. And they probably think feminism is something bizarre that only involves bra burning and extreme liberals (they also happen to be the sort of guys who don't understand that lesbians are real, but that's an equally frustrating topic for another time). Wrong, wrong, wrong.

I am a feminist, I am smart, and I will not waste my time dating someone who doesn't respect me for being these things. It's not being picky; it's respecting myself. I don't care if I'm alone for the rest of my life because being this way makes me "undateable" (which has to me a myth; it's totally a myth, right, gentlemen?); I'd rather be alone than be with someone who doesn't like me for me. This doesn't make me a man-hater, or a shrew, or any of that shit. No, all I want is someone to treat me the way I would treat them. I WANT to date a smart man because I want to date someone who is my equal. And that's that. Equality - what a novel thought.

So, girls, stop dumbing yourself down for guys, or anyone, for that matter. And guys - ditto. This whole fear of looking smart or nerdy or whatever is ridiculous. If anything, BE NERDY - as a guy in my Italian class said, "Everyone's a nerd, because everyone's passionate about something." Be passionate, be happy, and be yourself. This has been a PSA announcement from [La Maga].

Stronger

This week has been a busy (and unexpectedly dramatic) week in apartment management. I attended the housing fair (on the correct day this time) and got at least six people to give me their info to schedule a tour. However, [Львица] and I have been trying to find someone to move into our apartment in June so I can move in next door and the girl living there doesn't have to worry about subletting. But it's been hard to find two people who want to sublet so early, so we wondered if it might be easier for Britney, the girl who lives in the apartment I'm planning on moving into next year, to find a short-term subletter.

Except that, suddenly, it's not okay to sublet for less than three months in the building; they look for long-term leasing so they don't have high turnover. Which makes sense... but that was NOT what we were told upon filling out the lease. And that's not what any of the other tenants were told by the previous building manager either. So now we have that tricky little issue.

Our boss and building owner had decided to make an exception in order to let someone lease short-term, but before this [Львица] and I were both certain he alluded to giving me another apartment, not the one I wanted. I was unsure how this would solve any problems, but I'm certain that's what he said on the phone the other night. Not that it matters here; there are some battles I can't win and trying to justify myself and show that I am not in the wrong will solve nothing; it is not the point and it doesn't matter here. Unfortunately for me, I have a long history of hating any situation that makes me feel wronged and blamed when I feel I don't deserve to (something I deeply have in common with the protagonist of Jane Eyre) and it's been hard for me to see this situation clearly. However, this situation came up the other night and our boss took offense and [Львица] had to work herself out of a very awkward situation. Every time I think I've gotten better at communication and I think I'm good at what I'm doing, the stark reality of how much work it takes to attain good communication hits me.

http://www.examiner.com/

But instead of focusing out how far I've got to go, I'd rather commend myself for how far I've come. Yes, I could communicate better with my boss. But this is the first real job I've had, I've never met him or spoken with him face-to-face, and sometimes it's hard to express what [Львица] and I have discussed to our boss with just one of us trying to summarize. And given my history of introversion, slight social anxiety, and loathing of talking on phones (which has all but dissipated this year), I'm pretty goddamn pleased with myself. I have become a stronger person - in words, in actions, in many things. And for that, well, I'm quite happy.

Of course, I still have ways to grow and change (who doesn't?) and I'll harbor regrets about not being afraid to speak up sooner. Maybe it was because of Catholic school, maybe it was just who I was or what I was taught when I was young, but arguing with authority is something I had to learn myself, something I never saw accepted or allowed. If it weren't for [Львица] and, oddly enough, my father's new outspokenness about politics, and the fact that I've allowed myself to get really pissed off about some things, I might have never learned to speak my mind. I regret not doing it more in the past; I'll always wish I had spoken up in my high school Biology class when my teacher said that it was possible for AIDS to be passed through kissing which was SO WRONG, instead of just fuming about it later; I should have stood up and TOLD HIM he was wrong.

But the environment and person I was in high school was far, far different from where I find myself now. In college, there's a sense of freedom that I often take for granted. In college, you can break some of the rules. In high school, rules are the only structure there is to cling to.

Not that college is anywhere near perfect. [Львица]'s English class this semester has exemplified over and over again how easy it is for someone to take away the ability of expression (even when they think they are actually opening doors wider when in actuality they are slamming them shut). But I'm infinitely grateful for those who have allowed and encouraged me to speak out; the only thing I have too keep fighting for is the belief that I have the right to do so and that I deserve it. It's not always an easy feat; but I'm working on it. :)

Work Sucks; I know

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/

All has been rather quiet on the apartment front. I say this, of course, while rapidly hamming my fist on the closest available wooden surface. [Львица] and I have been doing apartment showings, trying to convince people that our apartment building is awesome and a great location on campus. And no, sir, there are no pests (Mouse? What's a mouse?) and the noise from the interstate isn't bad (ha, it sounds like a fucking Transformer is out there, 24/7), and really, living in the basement apartments is cheaper in the long run (even if if does look a bit like you're taking residence in something from The Shining). So we're fibbing a bit; welcome to corporate America.

[Львица] recently found out she's gotten accepted for a study abroad program in Russia over the summer, for which she should be celebrated and congratulated. However, I will miss her very much, both as a friend and a roommate. And I will miss her saying, when something nuts happens in the apartment, "I don't want to be here when the walls start to bleed." Trust me, [Львица], if the walls start bleeding while you are abroad, you will be the first to know.

Since [Львица] is going abroad, one of our current tenants - and a former high school classmate of ours - is taking up the reins as building manager. However, I've been doing more building related stuff this semester, which is cool because it makes me feel like a bad-ass adult.

Except for today. Today, I thought, was supposed to be the annual housing fair in the student union. I got semi-dressed up, lugged my computer along, got all the rental applications, and prepared to sell the building to the best of my abilities. Now, I'd been having weird dreams that I'd missed the housing fair or I couldn't find it or the usual stupid bullshit one's brain produces when they're planning on an upcoming event. And so when I walked into the student union and saw no one around the Great Hall and walked in there and realized they were setting up for an event with the Black Student Union, I sort of panicked.

I whipped out my computer, cursed the slow wi-fi on campus, and checked the email account we'd set up for the apartment building. And realized my mistake. One email sent by the building owner said that the housing fair was Tuesday, March 1st. March 1st is today, a Thursday. I figured that he must have made a typo. Another email, one that I apparently didn't pay enough attention to said that the housing fair was Tuesday, March 6th. Clearly this must be the case. Because I'm in the Union now and it sure as hell isn't today.

I was furious about this: partly because I wore a dress and dragged a heavy backpack with me across an icy, snow-covered campus for this. Partly because the building owner gave me two different dates for the event. And mostly because I'm just mad at myself for not double checking and being more prepared.

In my defense, I have been writing the hardest research paper I've ever encountered and it's making my loathe being a psych major. And I've had a general ennui about life that only broke the other day when I decided I sort-of, kind-of know what I want to do with my life. And it's sad to admit, but it's goddamn hard to care about this job when I'm making minimum wage, working infrequently, dealing with repair men who either seem incompetent and make me lose faith in humanity or are very kind and supportive but tell me I should get the hell out of Dodge before this building comes down around me.

Not that it's all bad. I've learned a ton while working here. I've gotten a great resume booster and the building owner has agreed to be a reference for me on an internship application that I'm filling out. It's just... hard, hard when you see these brand new luxury apartments being built and watch the glitz and glamor of the Oscars on TV while you're living in an old brownstone with bad plumbing eating pasta and peanut butter (not together... God, that would be terrible). I'm just tired of being a college student. I think that's what it comes down to. Someday, I'll look back at this job and laugh and smile and be so glad I took it. But that day is not today. So I'm going to sit here and starve (since I didn't bring a snack since I thought I'd be working and am too cheap to buy something to eat) and recklessly daydream and try not to give a shit about anything for a few minutes. Because right now, caring hurts.

You Treat Me Like a Stranger

http://img0.etsystatic.com/il_fullxfull.306645720.jpg

I'm hesitant about writing this since I recently advertised my new blog on Facebook and the fact that Google + has officially and finally changed my name to my actual name on here. But, based on the fact that I haven't gotten any backlash as of yet and that most of my friends don't talk to me on Facebook let alone read my blog, I don't think I have anything to worry about. But still, I feel like a backstabber. A bad friend. A traitor. All because I need a place where I can pretend someone is listening to me because I don't know how to deal with one of my closest friends becoming a stranger.

Last night, [X] and a co-worker of her's were in town for a comedy show at Coffman Union - "An Evening with Bo Burnham." Now, I didn't know anything about Burnham and [Львица] and I just decided to go because it seemed like a good gesture, to meet up with [X] and see her since I haven't spoken to her since Christmas.

Except that it was totally awkward. Namely because both girls from out of town felt the need to compare everything on our campus to their school. And because [X]'s co-worker didn't seem to like us (paranoid me wondered if perhaps [X] had already told her a thing or two about us before they arrived). And Burnham wasn't my cup of tea. At all. (You can read about that on [Львица]'s blog, if you're so inclined). 

The chance I did get to talk to [X] felt forced, meaningless small talk with me rambling on about psychology or Sherlock or how Benedict Cumberbatch is the greatest thing ever, only to have [X] either say little in reply or have her correct me that, in fact, Cumberbatch is ONE of the greatest things ever (not the point. Not even close). Even bringing up the Scotland trip felt sort of weird and forced, as if that wasn't us, that was some other life, some other world, not ours. Maybe it was because her co-worker was there that she didn't talk to me much. Or maybe I should just accept that she no longer puts me first in terms of friends, she probably never did, and I should just get over it. But sometimes I wonder if anyone's ever put me first, or at least equal to someone else, and it's a nagging sense that I don't amount to anything and that I've failed somehow. But I know that isn't true - I gave it my all with [X] and it just didn't turn out. She and I will never have the deep conversations we used to have on occasion - the deep conversations [Львица] and I now have at least once a week (thank God for [Львица] and [the Question]. I don't know what I'd do without them). Even conversations with people I've just met or acquaintances from my classes (like [amante della musica] and Ellie, a girl in my music as discourse and comedy class): seem simpler than talking to [X] now. Maybe she really just has become someone that I used to know.

Cheque, Check

[Львица] and I came to a consensus the other day: men don't know how to write checks. Okay, so not all men, obviously. But a wide variety of twenty-something college boys sure don't.

http://carayowell.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/Abundance-Cheque-Example.jpg

Case and point: last summer, on move-in day, I had to tell the tenant of 103 how to fill out the check for the first month's rent because he'd never written one. Then the other day, [Львица] was watching a guy who was writing a check for the security deposit to rent an apartment in our building next year and he didn't know how to do it.

What is with this? I mean, both [Львица] and I realized that are mothers are the ones who pay the checks in the household and that neither of our fathers write checks very often. Not saying they don't know how, but that it doesn't happen often. Why did the checkbook become a woman's tool? What's with this?

I don't have the answers... seriously, I don't. I'm just mindlessly musing because it's late and that's what I'm good at.

British Accents

Yesterday in my television class we were talking about PBS and how their programming differs from other American channels. Amidst this talk, we discussed how PBS imports some British shows, like Monty Python's Flying Circus, miniseries, and "low-brow" comedy - and yet all of these shows are seen as very "high-brow." Why? Because people with British accents just sound smarter to us Americans.

I've been thinking about this ever since and it's true. Why this is comes as somewhat as a mystery to me. Maybe it's some sort of residual "we used to be a colony of you and then we went off and did our own thing and got stuck with this weird accent" sort of thing. Maybe, as human accents go, the accents of the UK (because Lord knows there is more than one British accent) just has an intellectual sound to it. Maybe the British are just smarter (they at least, I hope, know that Ash Wednesday falls on a WEDNESDAY unlike several girls in one of my psych classes. And my professor for my Comedy class :P). 

Regardless, members of the United Kingdom, you have an incredible power of the American public. Please don't use it against us.

GOOGLE!!! *fist shake*

http://www.johnhaydon.com

So I updated to Google+ tonight and just realized that everything I had about myself on the blog - my username and my funny little saying about relating time travel to Doctor Who (which took me FOREVER to write) all disappeared when I integrated my new profile with my blogs. Goddammit.

Oh well. I'll still refer to myself as another name. I'll just pretend I didn't change anything. I'll just lie to myself until I stop regretting and realizing that this entire Google+ things is a confusing waste of my time. Sigh...

In memorium of my once-was description (I think it was basically like this):  If culture is to time travel as being a culture vulture is to being a time traveler, then I'm a mediocre stand-in for Doctor Who. Give me a break, I'm trying my best.

Single Ladies, or: Why I Don't Hate Valentine's Day

http://www.desicomments.com/dc1/11/154971/154971.jpg

I can always tell when it's that time of year again: the shops get full of things pink and red and white, Victoria's Secret bombards me with ads like nobody's business, and I get the impulsive urge to read Jane Eyre.

Yeah, you read that last part right. I've accidentally started a routine where I feel the sudden urge to read my favorite novel around February 14th. I did it last year, I think I did it the year before, and I'm reading it now. It was kind of by chance. But it's a tradition I rather like having started.

As the sort of girl whose most exciting Valentine's Day has comprise of getting the stomach flu from my dentist my junior year and watching my friend [uber gay] get pissed off at us all for sending him singing valentines my senior year, I like treating this day kind of simply. This year, I'm staying home, drinking wine, and watching a movie with [Львица]. I like this trend, just staying in and treating myself ("treat yo self!" as Tom Haverford says on Parks and Recreation).

God, I love this show...

Anyway, as I was saying, I kind of like this staying in thing. I mean, as long as I'm single, I'm not going to sit around and mope and be all like "This is Single's Awareness Day!" and wear black like I did in high school. Because that only made me feel feel small, stupid and unimportant; while I may be unimportant, I am not these other things. So I am gonna have a good day, dammit! I love myself and I'm gonna show it.

And, because I am a deep, deep, crazy romantic (not Romantic, like Baudelaire - I've been reading him and that dude has issues with the ladies. But that's a topic for another post), I believe in Valentine's Day. I don't believe you should buy a bunch of stuff for people you care just to show them you care. Because that seems phoney. It shouldn't be about the buying of stuff; it's about the love. It isn't about money or lingerie or candy or jewelry; it isn't about loving more just because it's a special day of the year. It's about taking aside one day, one special day to celebrate that love you have everyday and linger over it a bit more. About being thoughtful - not necessarily consumerist - and getting something for the one you care about. That doesn't mean buying stuff - it could mean making dinner. It could mean just calling someone up and talking to them. It's not about the stuff; it's about doing what you feel to express your love. However, I still think giving someone a rose is one of the most goddamn romantic things in the world. Just so you all know ;)

I'm also not one of those people who feels threatened by happy romantic couples. Okay, so yes, there is a lingering seed of jealousy and a bit of angst, but overall, I'm happy for them. Just because I'm single doesn't mean I'm pissed off at all the people that aren't. Because that doesn't seem to make a whole lot of sense. And because, one day, that could be me. And if it's not, well, I'm buying myself roses. TREAT YO SELF!