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May 7, 2009

A Review of my Honors Seminar

This is completely real, true, and accurate. I submitted this today as a valid evaluation of my Honors Seminar. I am not sorry.

What did the instructor do that most helped your learning?

Nothing. This is the worst class I have taken since I have come to the U.
This class was supposed to be about autism- but when we got to class on the
first day, Professor Y decided he wanted to teach about prosopagnosia- which no
one cared about. This is not a subject to teach an entire semester honors
seminar about. I am very disappointed in the U for not monitoring
professors and for letting this waste of time happen. I paid for this class
and I regret every second of it.
Not only did Professor Y admit to not knowing anything about autism or
prosopagnosia, but he later let the class know that the only reason he
change the subject was because he plans on doing research into the disorder
this summer. Poor form, take away his tenure.
There was no rhyme or reason to anything we did, no structure, and no real
assignments. The last two weeks of class were canceled to "work on our
papers." The papers were reactions that took about an hour to write.
I am never taking another honors seminar again. You should be ashamed of
the amount of time and money wasted, especially during an economic crisis.
I expect more from a large University like this, but apparently I was
mistaken.

What could you have done to be a better learner?

I could have taken a more worthwhile class.

Additional comments.

Don't get me wrong, Professor Y is a nice guy, but he's a little out-there. He
just expected us to just come to class and discuss the readings, which were
bare-bones at best. How can that be a learning experience? I appreciate
being in the honors track for CLA, but this is ridiculous. If this is "what
grad school is like," I do not want further education.
I was looking forward to an interesting and informative class about autism.
Instead I got a self-indulgent, worthless, mind-numbingly-boring,
wishy-washy, horrendous excuse for academic discourse.
For shame, U of M. For shame.

Names have been changed for the protection of the idiotic.

April 10, 2009

Strange Proposition

You may not believe that this story is true, and believe me, if it hadn't happened to me, I would have some speck of skepticism as well. And yet, the fact that it happened at the bus stop only supports the truthfulness of this story.

I had just finished research for the day (thank God), and I stopped at the Coffman bus stop to go back to Pioneer. I know it's not a far walk, but I was lazy this morning and fate was not on my side. I was also wearing a dress (was that why it happened? I'm going to start wearing baggy clothes) and it was windy, so the bus sounded like a good idea at the time.

I missed the connector, as usual, so I stood next to the bus stop sign and waited for the next one to come. As I was standing there, a man in an orange parka, with a backpack and a scruffy look to him walked up to me. I thought he looked maybe about late 20's to early 30's, fairly normal, nothing to make him stand out. Until he opened his mouth.

Here is what he said, as exactly as I can remember it:

"Hi, I know I don't know you, but I just wanted to say something to you. You have an unparalleled beauty that needs to be noticed by the world. I would like to ask you a question. With your permission of course, I would like to get down on my knees right here and kiss your feet."

My reply: "Uh…I don't really feel comfortable with this."

I must stop here and just tell you what my feelings were at the point he asked to kiss my feet. When he first told me I was beautiful, I thought maybe he was just shy around women and was trying to use some oddly planned pick-up line. But when he got to the foot fetish thing, the only thing I could think was this is a joke. But he kept going. At which point I thought please tell me this is the psych department doing some weird research study. When he was done talking and I left, no one gave me any debriefing, so I am forced to conclude that this was not the case. The third thing I thought may be kind of mean or judgmental, but it's a two-part question: I thought at the time that he was either "mentally unstable" (my brain gave me this word, maybe from abnormal psychology classes) or that he just had a foot fetish and wanted to be normal about it. I felt bad. The apple of his cheek continuously twitched as he spoke and I found myself staring at it because I didn't know what to do.

I just want to tell you now that there is no end to this story and I cannot explain this man's words. So I will just note the rest of his speech.

"I know this might seem forward and this is an awkward question, but I would like to get to know you and maybe make my way up to that point. I realize that I might not be worthy of you, but I would like us to get to know each other. So, with your permission, would it be okay with you if we had a more formal introduction?"

My reply: "Uh…I don't really feel comfortable with this."

I had no idea what to say, what to do, what to think. It was surreal. I felt myself swaying on the spot with weirdness. The sun was too bright. All I could think was, where the fuck is the bus? To continue:

He said, "Well…there's no way to back away from this without being awkward, so…" He then stared at me. I said, "Well, thank you." He then backed away awkwardly, laughing that he didn't mean to be weird. He stood behind me for five solid minutes while I waited for the bus. It never came. Kamran called me and I immediately answered. He wanted to know if I could eat lunch with him at Coffman. I said "YES I'LL BE THERE IN A SECOND." I walked off to Coffman and didn't turn back.

When I told Kamran, he said, "Well he got his wish."

"What wish?"

"I've noticed your unparalleled beauty."

He thinks he's so funny. What a suck-up.

I called my mom and told her. After laughing at me for about thirty seconds, she said I should have told him that I was married and my husband wouldn't appreciate him kissing my feet. I had thought about saying I had a boyfriend, but for some reason, I didn't want to disappoint the guy or make him sad. My sister said it was hilarious.

I ended up walking home after eating with Kamran. I don't think I'll stand at the bus stop again for awhile.

April 9, 2009

I'm getting old.

I told my mom today that I think I have early-onset Alzheimer's. Not something to joke about, I realize, but damn it if I keep forgetting things that I'm supposed to remember. I forgot the word "outcome" yesterday. I forgot the word "deprived" and the word "impoverished" today. That adds to my list of about ten words I've had trouble remembering lately. It makes me feel a little stupid. And very old.

My wardrobe makes me feel a bit old at times too. I wear a lot of cardigans, because I love them. So does my 50+ year old French teacher. So does my 40+ year old psychology teacher. They are so comfortable though, I can't help it. Plus I feel like they make me look like a real psychologist when I wear them. Like I should have a clipboard and horn-rimmed glasses, and say things like, "I understand," "Continue, please," and "Studies show…"

Also, I listen to a lot of Beatles music. I sometimes reference Laugh In and The Twilight Zone. I called someone "dear" the other day. I can't work a computer. There are probably other age stereotypes that I just can't think of, and I'm being harsh on myself and old people (my grandpa sends me very formally-worded emails all the time) but I do hate when I can't think of a word.

But I'm okay with getting old. In fact, I want to get old. I want to be wrinkled, I will never dye my hair if it turns gray. I want to be a nice old grandma who gives you hard candies at church and has a tinkling little laugh. A tough old broad, like my grandma, who could kick your ass and doesn't take shit from anybody. I'll take up smoking just to be a badass, at the age of 84. I'll beat my grandkids in card games and tell them stories about the good-old days. Most of the stories will be made up, but they will be epic. I'll tell embarrassing stories about their parents/my kids, just to piss them off. And I'll swear. A lot.

When I'm old and wrinkly and gray-haired I won't regret that I've lived.

March 24, 2009

Spring Break

I went to Minot  for Spring Break. I don't care what anyone says, I still love North Dakota. Kamran and I took the train on Thursday night (I skipped Social Psychology on Friday, good for me). It was worse than usual- some little 4 or 5 year old kid watched THE LAND BEFORE TIME until TWO in the morning with NO HEADPHONES. So we had to listen to Little Foot and The Bird Guy and Barney and all those other stupid annoying dinosaur assholes sing about God knows what- Jurassic Park or something. The conductor walked by and told the (father?) of the child to turn the movie off, people are trying to sleep. The guy said, and this is an actual quote, "It's almost over, I think. I'm not sure." He was watching the movie too. His extremely overweight wife/mother/Freudian fixation snored next to little Damien, the demon child watching the worst movie ever made. And so Kamran and I sat awake staring into the Amtrak seats, wondering when this purgatory of awful children's songs would end.

We watched Let the Right One In, a wonderful little Swedish vampire film. It was the first film I've seen in a long while where someone was paler than me. Props to my Swedish relatives. I highly recommend it, it's a little slow but I liked it that way. It was a build-up. The little girl-vampire was adorable, even with blood all over her face, and the boy was a little dork, in an odd Scandinavian way. There's some pretty awesome kills.

Moving on, not a lot happened over break (surprise surprise). I did no homework. I ate too much. Kamran and I made chex mix and puppy chow. My niece Emma, who is six months old, met Kamran for the first time and fell in love with him. She watched him wherever he went and even reached out for him to pick her up, which she's never done for anyone before. She wanted to be with him more than her own damn aunt. What a b-word. I don't really mean that, she's just a baby. But if she's anything like her mother, she will not be very nice in general.

Much of my extended family came to watch my cousin Reid (who I refer to as Regis) play class B basketball. It was pretty fun, I guess. A good way to waste a week, that's what I would call it. I have nothing to say.

March 4, 2009

Computers: I am the destroyer of technology. Beware.

I hate them. They hate me. I have the worst luck with any sort of technology in my life. I ruin everything I touch. My computer. My digital camera. My ipod. Robots. If I were an X-Person (I am not a Man) I would be that little kid from the second movie who changes the TV channels by blinking. Except when I blinked, the TV would explode. The wreckage from the television would destroy my computer, which would have my ipod attached, which would promptly stop working.

I once got an electric shock that burned my finger when I was pulling the cord from my alarm clock out of the wall.

But the latest strife in my life of eternal computer-related misery and woe is the self-destruction of my computer. It just stopped working. It turns on for a second and then does nothing. A little cursor blinks in the corner. Kamran got it to turn back on the first try. The guy at the help desk got it on in one try, but told me it was suffering from MOTHERBOARD FAILURE. What does that mean? I know nothing about computers, I care nothing about computers. But I'm pretty sure that's really bad.

I am praying for it to just miraculously start working again, but I can't find a passage in the Bible that mentions an IT department in heaven.

In a normal pissed-off situation like this, I would either play a shit ton of spider solitaire, or I would listen to the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack. Unfortunately, I can't do either of these. And so my life is a jumbled mess, I can't check my email every 10 minutes, facebook is out of the question, how am I supposed to check if anyone has tagged me in a new photo? What is the point of life?

And now I realize that this was all my fault. I recently wrote that I shouldn't bring my computer to class, that is was a distraction, that I needed to be able to concentrate and it was ruining my class time. I wrote the post on my computer. My computer must have been watching. It committed suicide because it was unappreciated. Now I realize the error of my ways. I must win back the heart of my poor precious computer.

February 27, 2009

Why I Shouldn't Bring my Computer to Class

I think I need to talk myself out of taking notes on my laptop. I spend way too much time on the internet, looking at things that I don't need to look at (not porn). In fact, I am in class right now. I'm not listening at all and sometimes I block things out so thoroughly that I really have no idea what's going on for a solid thirty minutes. Here are the pros and cons of having my computer in class with me.

Pros:

1. Taking notes is so much faster. I get all the information I need as quickly as I need it. I don't have to waste precious, precious paper to write out a bunch of unnecessary notes that I will inevitably throw away the second after the final. This way, I can just put my notes in the trash, quick and easy (you can't recycle on a computer, they should call it the recycling bin to increase awareness of recycling and nitpicking.)

2. I can carry my computer instead of several notebooks. It's cleaner and lighter and takes up less room. Also,

Cons:

1. I spend an ungodly amount of time on: facebook, digg, and somethingawful. I become a bigger nerd every day. It's an addiction. I get to the point where when I actually have to take notes, I consider it an inconvenience and an interruption of more important work.

2. I check my email every 5.3 seconds. I never have new emails. I become depressed.

3. I spent an entire 2 hours reading wikipedia articles on Salman Rushdie and whatever links off of his entry.

4. I talk to Kamran too much and I say things that are either mean but joking("I hate you"), don't make any sense ("poooooooooop"), or just things that are boring or useless ("yeah.") He puts up with me.

5. I think people might see what I'm looking at or writing, and even though it's normal stuff, it makes me uncomfortable.

6. My computer is slow and takes forever to start up. It also takes up my whole damn desk. I need room for my pencil. I might need it.

I thought of way more cons, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to continue taking my computer to class. It's just so much more fun to read digg than listen to whatever the hell my teacher is talking about. We'll see what my test grades are to see the real answer.

February 25, 2009

Nothing

I haven't written in a long time. I haven't had anything to say. I still don't really.

I was going to publish a review of the Twilight movie, but I didn't want to piss off any fangirls (re: my sister.) I really can't think of what I want to say.

All I've been trying to do lately is sit down and read- for fun. I either don't have the time normally or I'm so tired from reading for class that I would be insane to read on my own time. The words all jumble together and don't make any sense. I try to make the time before I go to bed or instead of going on my computer, but the past few days I have actually fallen asleep in my computer chair. Like a cat.

I made a list of books I want to read, which keeps getting bigger everyday. I don't think I'll ever finish the list, but my few of heaven is a large library with eternity to read whatever I want. So hopefully God will take pity on me and let me read all the books on my list in heaven.

I'm reading three books right now. This isn't a feat or anything, one is a book on tape, one is a play for French class, and one is just a regular old novel. The audiobook is Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi. It's interesting but a bit repetitive. It's difficult to listen to it on the way to class because either the busses drown out the voice on my ipod or I feel like the narrator is repeating the same sentence over and over again. I'm complaining, but I do like the book overall. (5 discs left, 5 discs left…)

The play for French class is Le Portrait de Dora by Helene Cixous. It's pretty standard, but I'm surprised about the amount of weird sex scenes. Although I guess Freud is one of the main characters.

The novel I'm reading is The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury. I may sound like a sci-fi nerd for reading something with both the word martian and chronicles, but it's Bradbury, so get over yourself. Bradbury's style is like lyrics to me, I guess. He describes things so differently than any other author I've read. He describes how things feel rather than how they look, he mixes the senses and creates something else. It's nice to see an author who clearly loves what he does and loves his characters. He's one of my favorite authors. If I had the time to just sit around and read him all day, I would. But I don't have that time, I'm wasting it on writing this blog.

February 7, 2009

Class Schedule Spring 2009

Since I haven't written anything in forever and a half, I figured I would slowly ease back into the task of writing mediocre opinion pieces on subjects that apparently no one but myself cares about. My first post of the year, and I'm wasting it on a summary of my classes. This is all I have in life.

1. Biological Psychology: Seems like an okay class at first, until they start talking. This is no regular psychology class. I've taken about ten since coming to the University, and this is the only one I've taken that relies on real science. The only one that uses several methods to explain real, concrete information. Whereas with other psychology classes, there's always this sort of leeway, it might be true, there's a correlation, but there's no real way to be sure. Well this time, they're sure. They cut up a bunch of dead guys and studied what was in there. Unfortunately, we now have to study all the gross inside-stuff that they found.

2. French Theatre: I like my teacher, I've had her for three classes now. No complaints. More Sartre? No thank you.

3. Abnormal Psychology: I like the content, but the problem I have with this class is that it meets at night. I hate night classes. I had successfully avoided them until this semester. I had two my freshman year and I vowed I would not take another my entire college career. My vow was broken, and now I am shamed. My family is also shamed. And I have to sit next to smelly people. The first night of class I almost threw up because the woman sitting next to me (bored housewife?) smelled like chicken salad and fruity lip balm. Now I sit next to a post-Goth kid with a rectangular beard who smokes during breaks. I honestly prefer the smoke over the lip balm. I'll talk lung cancer over chicken salad chapstick any day.

4. Social Psychology: I love this class. My definite favorite this semester. My professor swears (a lot). Here is a small list of the words she has said in class:
Asshole
Bitch
Shit
Shit
Shit
Cock
Vagina
Prostitute
Slut
The word cock was actually written in the notes. No joke. This woman is brilliant. She should teach every one of my classes. She should have her own television show and book deal. I love this class.

5. Honors Seminar: This class was supposed to be a seminar based on the study of autism. When we all showed up to start the class on the first day, the professor informed us that he didn't want to teach about autism anymore. Apparently there must be an unwritten understanding that professors can just teach whatever they want without informing anyone, even the students, that the class is going to completely change. He's now teaching us about prosopagnosia, where a person does not recognize/differentiate between faces. Now, this is still semi-interesting, don't get me wrong. But is it really a three-credit class, one semester long? Is it worth that much time and energy? And the professor doesn't even really know anything about the disorder. He's just "interested" in it. Yeah. So we're taking the class and he's taking the class, basically. I'm so glad a college-education is worth this much to the administration. What a great semester I have to look forward to.

December 22, 2008

Fun with Bells

I worked two hours at Miracle Mart today ringing the Salvation Army bell.  After losing three toes to the cold (why, oh why did my family decide to settle in North Dakota?), I feel that I've learned not only about my hometown, but about people in general and old people in specific.  They put my mom and I in the entryway to the store, because it "wasn't as cold," but really it was just as cold but we weren't being snowed on.  My mom and I talked about various boring things- mostly my boyfriend, Josh Duhamel and Fergie (they spent Thanksgiving in Minot!), school, and Christmas shopping.  Then mom had to go pick up my sister from school.  And that's when things got weird.

One older lady came up to me and in a very soft voice told me that I was such a good person for volunteering, especially at my age.  She went on for 30 to 45 seconds.  What do you say to that?  "Oh, thank you, I know I'm a wonderful person who will surely be accepted with open arms into heaven.  I'm not like the Lindsay Lohan's and Britney Spears' of my age.  I am better than everyone, and you better not forget it."  Instead, I just said thank you.  But all of this passed through my mind.  She didn't even give any money.

Another even older man came up to me, gave some money, and then sidled in real close-like, as if telling me a secret.  It was vaguely harassment-y.  I didn't say anything, but I was a little scared.  The following conversation is exact and unchanged in any way.

Old man: "You know, the Sunday school at my church did a fundraiser.  They gave all the money to Africa."

Me: "Oh?"

Old man: "They shouldn't give the money to Africa, they should keep it here in America!"

Me: "Uh…"

Old man: "You know who it will go to if it goes to Africa, don't you?"

Me thinking: Oh God, don't let him say it.  Whatever he's going to say, he needs to stop.

Old man: "The outlaws."

Then he left.  It made me very uncomfortable, but honestly, it could have been worse.  Not much worse, but really it could have been worse.  Racism, for real.  Look into it.

The mystical day ended when my feet were so cold that I had to put the bell down and walk into the store because I couldn't feel anything from my shins down.  Then my mom picked me up and I ate 2 fruit snacks and a ton of jalapeno chips.  Not a bad day really, it was pretty realistic.  Is it possible to cry yourself to death?

December 17, 2008

Possible Cat Names, for those who are interested.

Yes, that's right.  I am making a post about what I might possibly name a cat.  I don't even like cats that much, but thinking up names for them is funny to me.  I am doing this for two reasons only:  Kamran is sleeping and I am bored (that's one whole reason), and I haven't posted anything in awhile so I'm using this as a terrible excuse for an update.  So here are the names we came up with last night:

Bongo (just sounds cool), Pippin (we also threw out Frodo and Sauron), Tits (just sounds cute for some reason), Cunegonde (main female character from Candide, I would like to name my animals after literary characters because it's more badass that way), Q or M (besides Bond, just cool names), Sir (with or without a name behind it), Chum (no explanation here), Chainsaw (Rory thought of that one for his future child, I feel bad for that kid), Pierre (or something French, then we could train it with French commands), Mario or Luigi (or Yoshi, or Peach, or Toad…), Kamran said some weird fantasy role-playing video game names but I said absolutely not, Kamran (that was my choice for a cat name), Rory (going with the "people we know" theme).  I can't think of anymore, but that's the gist of the conversation we had last night.

I favor one syllable names or names that are nouns.  They have more comedy value when applied to a small kitten.

My favorite: Tooth.  Not Teeth, or Toothes, or Fang or anything like that.  Just "Tooth."  Because that would be the greatest name ever.  For anything really.  Having a child?  Name him or her Tooth.  It's a unisex name and can be applied to any species.  A universal name, if you will.

Kamran's favorite: Pixel, Pix or Pixie for short.  I thought that was clever and cute.  Damn you, Kamran.  I don't want a cat anyway.

I just thought of one: Dreidel.  How cute would that be?  This needs to end, it's getting out of hand.

December 14, 2008

Oasis Concert

I thought I'd write a little synopsis about what happened at the concert on Wednesday.  It was me, my dad, and Kamran going to Oasis.  Perfection.  I decided I wanted to document it for when I'm older and don't remember it anymore.

First we stopped at Perkin's and my dad made an ass of himself by telling me he was going to ask for a chocolate chip sundae for his meal, but in a weird voice. (The idiocy would later be repeated the next day at the Mall of America when he asked a woman named Belinda working at the SpongeBob store if they sold oven mitts.  Turns out they do.)  My cup had a hole in it so there was water all over the table (and me).  The iced tea tasted like foot.  It was not a good sign.

We got to the Target Center and I was super excited.  I guess I used to like Oasis as a joke but they actually are pretty good. I was almost certain that the Gallagher brothers would get in a fight.  That would have made my night complete.  The first act was Matt Costa and some other guy who I didn't bother to remember.  They were pretty good.  Then it was Ryan Adams and The Cardinals.  They didn't even introduce themselves.  They were okay, but they didn't really rock out or anything. Mostly they just sang Tim McGraw songs.  That was kind of annoying.

Then Oasis took the stage and the lead singer, Liam Gallagher, rocked the shit out of that tambourine.  He was very serious about it, too.  I thought for sure he was going to beat someone up, but no luck there.  He kept putting his hands over his face and just looked really pissed off.  But no one got hurt.  They actually did a very good job, for as much of a joke as they usually are considered.  They had a good presence and used the lighting and screens in the background to good effect. Liam said the f-word seven times, and flipped off the crowd once.  Noel asked us why we would ever choose to live in such a cold place, and asked if we had ever heard of California.  We booed him, because we are stupid.  Liam stood very stiffly as he sang and I think he might have been losing his voice, because he would never fully finish a word.  He pulled away from the microphone a lot.  Also, one of the guitar players was doubled over for awhile, maybe he was sick or something.

The funniest thing for me was the screens in the background showing the band playing spliced in with old footage of other things.  It was a cool effect, but you could really tell that they chose the side angles on Liam and Noel because everyone knows they are hideous.  Never a full face shot.  You gotta love it.

What else happened?  Oh, right, there was a drunk hooker in the audience who fell down the stairs.  I say hooker because she was wearing a leopard-print shirt, schoolgirl skirt, and "hooker boots." You know what I'm talking about.  It may be a stereotype, but I like to think it was correct.  She fell in slow motion and landed on her knees down the stairs.  It was kind of scary, but no one got hurt.  Another drunk woman in the audience kept trying to dance.  She was horrendous.  She would point at people and spin around.  She kept trying to take pictures of the band but was so drunk that she would end up taking a picture of the people in front of her.  Also, it is not badass to get drunk at an Oasis concert. Oasis.  You can do better.

I didn't know two of the songs.  They sang (not in this order): Rock 'N Roll Star, Lyla ("For you to come and fuck me out my mind."), Wonderwall (an audience member kept yelling Wonderwall and Liam said, "I know when to fuckin' play Wonderwall."), Slide Away, The Shock of the Lightning, Ain't Got Nothin', Cigarettes and Alcohol, Waiting for the Rapture, I'm Outta Time, To Be Where There's Life, The Importance of Being Idle (love that song), Don't Look Back in Anger (very good acoustic version), Champagne Supernova, and I am the Walrus (strange how many people love that song).

I really enjoyed the whole thing and I'm so glad I went.  Also, Britney Spears is coming in April.  I almost feel obligated to my twelve-year-old self to go.  On the other hand, I would fell a mix of shame and pity if I went, and I'm so not into that.

December 8, 2008

I hate finals.

I hate studying for them, I hate thinking about them, I hate discussing them, I hate scheduling them and knowing the schedule, I hate taking them, I hate worrying about them.

So I put it all off.  By watching movies or writing uninteresting blog posts.  Here's my schedule:

1. French oral test: Easy, ridiculously so.  We just have to read some stupid passage out loud, probably about Jean-Claude and Mireille going to Tours or something like that.

2. Research practicum final paper: Whatever, I've had it done for awhile, I just want to get rid of it and never think about it again.  The whole class, really.

3. Saturday: French written final.  Not easy, but not overly difficult.  I think it'll be mostly memorizing a bunch of bullshit about how to pronounce eau and eu and u and ou.  But who schedules a final test on a Saturday at 8am?  That's a poor planning issue and it needs to be dealt with.

4. Thursday: (I just realized that I skipped this one and don't want to renumber.  Also, I went from labeling in terms of tests to days instead.)  Cognitive psychology test, online.  Not hard, I get to use all my notes and my book, so I can cheat all I want.

5. Monday: Film final paper due.  Oddly, I took this class for fun, but it's turned out to be the one class that I'm a little worried about.  I already turned in my rough draft, and I really don't know what to expect for feedback.  Probably that it wasn't that great.  I just want it to be over with, so I don't have to think about it anymore.  And anyway, I hate classes where I have to basically make up interpretations that are bullshit and could be applied to anything and not even a film in particular.  But that's just me.

6. Child Psychology Final: I really enjoyed this class, but I'll still be glad when it's over.  We spend about twenty minutes each week listening to stupid questions and wondering why these people still believe that single case studies prove or disprove a hypothesis. 

That's my schedule.  I have nothing else to say.

November 25, 2008

South Park "The Ungroundable": Twilight in Review

I just wanted to give a short reasoning behind why I completely agreed with what this episode had to say about vampire kids, Twilight, and Hot Topic.  Lately I think the boys from South Park have been stalking my sister and finding out what she loves most in life, so that they can make fun of it.  She loves Twilight, she loves High School Musical, she loves Guitar Hero, she loves Hot Topic.  I think it's funny, personally, when the show she's loved for years has turned on her and started destroying everything she loves in life.  It's not quite that dramatic, but it's still pretty funny.

The funny thing about an episode like this is that it's making fun of people who follow these trends while at the same time realizing that most things are a trend and there's no stopping that.  We just seem to be living during a particularly stupid and annoying trend.  My favorite quote from the episode was probably where they said that anyone who believes he or she is actually a real vampire is an idiot, something like that.  And then the one Goth kid flips everyone off.

I've been saying for months (two posts, but who's counting?) that Twilight is light but trashy, heavy on the sappy love, syrupy sweet, and mostly annoying.  I'm glad this view has come to light through one of my favorite shows.  Let me clarify though, of course I'm happy that kids are reading, but why can't they read something better? If a 12 year old is introduced to Twilight and the book series ends, what does she go on to read? Romance novels, most likely, Nora Roberts and Linda Howard and Jo Beverley and Cassie Edwards.  Or even worse, vampire romance: see Christine Feehan.  (Don't judge me, I used to work in a book store, I know what romance is popular.)  Then where will this girl be?  She'll be knee-deep in trashy non-literature, not knowing who Jane Austen is or what people mean by feminism.  She'll just be dreaming of her very own Edward, who will sweep her off her feet into a teen marriage and teen pregnancy, name her child the stupidest thing she can think of, and only really live when faux-Edward is around to berate her for being a human.  It's the future that every little girl dreams of, really.

I've said so much on the topic of this series that I almost feel bad even mentioning it again. I know I'll review it once again when I read the last book next summer (oh goody) and when I see the movie with my sister.  And of course I have friends who read the books and that's totally cool with me, as long as they understand the difference between reality and trashy fiction and don't expect a real man to abuse them in the way Edward does to Bella.  Oh, and I hope they realize also that being whiny and annoying like Bella will not get you anywhere in life and a relationship is not the most important thing to have in life.  Just because you are 15 doesn't mean you need a boyfriend.  Just because you just broke up with a guy doesn't mean you have to hook up with several more in order to feel good about yourself.  You don't need a romantic partner in order to be a real person.  That shouldn't be the thing that gives you self-confidence.

I apologize for going off on several random tangents, I just have a lot to say about a lot of different things, none of which are that interesting.  I might return to this topic again someday.  I'm not looking forward to it.

November 17, 2008

Bucket List

I had one written up on my facebook awhile ago, but I don't know where it went or what happened to it. Go figure. Anyway, this is me trying to remember what I wrote. *This means it's been done.*

1. Go to New Orleans, experience a real Mardi Gras.

2. Go back to France, live there for some period of time.

*3. Go to a real opera.*

4. Have a family.

*5. Fall in love.*

6. Punch someone in the face.

7. Fight off zombies, successfully.

8. Write a book, get it published.

9. Go to grad school.

10. Become a psychologist.

*11. Become fluent in French.* –(I consider myself basically fluent…)

12. Go to the neighborhood where my grandma grew up, in New York.

13. Read every book on my booklist.

14. Do something good for all of womankind.

15. Eliminate the stigma attached to mental disorders.

16. Go scuba diving in a non-Lake-Sakakawea setting.

17. Tour a real haunted house.

18. Find out about my genealogy.

19. Grow something in a garden.

20. Learn to play the guitar.

21. Smash a guitar.

*22. Read to my niece.

23. Have an adventure.

24. Learn something new every day.

*25. Cook an extravagant meal.

*26. Learn to dance.

27. Skinny dip.

28. Meet Morgan Freeman.

29. Visit Abbey Road.

30. Have a sandwich-making room in my house.

31. Go hunting again with my dad.

32. Face my fears.

*33. Something secret.

34. Kiss a Frenchman on top of the Eiffel Tower.

35. Earn a trophy.

36. Visit the Caribbean. Jamaica, man.

37. Go to Italy.

38. Have a library in my future home with a bay window where I can sit and read and look out at the snow and drink hot chocolate.  Very specific, but I'll make it happen.

39. Get married in my grandmother's wedding dress.

40. Go snorkeling.

41. Knit a blanket.

42. Make a Molotov cocktail.

That's all for now. I will be adding more when I think of them.  Any suggestions are welcome, too.  I hope I don't die before I can get this list done, I hate leaving things half-finished.

November 14, 2008

What I Wish I Was Doing Right Now

Right now I wish I was:

1. Playing Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. I would listen to all the best radio stations (VRock, naturally), I would shoot a bunch of people and then run away from the cops, I would steal a helicopter and jump off the tallest building, I would use a cheat to make every car I touch fly away into the sky, and I would finish the last mission and kill Lance. That is what I would do if I was playing Vice City.

2. If I could do anything right now, I would go on a hot air balloon. That would be spectacular. I've never been on one before, and I would like to. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz.

3. I would hold my little niece and rock her to sleep.

4. If I wasn't working, I would be watching Home Alone with everyone else instead of studying for my child psychology test and being lonely.

5. If I had the time in general, I would figure out my philosophy about life. Because right now, I don't really have one, and I think that's something a college student should have by now so that when I graduate, I can learn all kinds of lessons about why my previous outlook was wrong. There would be a montage involved.

6. I would kick my sister's ass at Guitar Hero. Or any Wii game. Except the Godfather, because my sister is very good at choking people to death and throwing them either into traffic or against a brick wall.

7. I would write something worthwhile, besides a sorry excuse for a list of some kind or a review of a movie that no one wants to see and no one ever will. One day I would publish that written text, but I would only make one copy for myself, and no one could ever read it until I died and didn't care anymore. Because I would be embarrassed. And I would probably burn it before I died anyway, or haunt the person who inherited it and tell them never to publish it. I'm rambling, but I don't care.

That's what I would do if I had a million dollars. I mean if I could do anything right now.

November 13, 2008

Open Letter

To the d-bag who's conversation I overheard while walking to class.  I know I was technically eavesdropping.  But you said that in public.  And I wasn't listening to you.  I even had music playing, and I heard that one phrase and it pissed me off.

So this is what I heard you say: "…Is she dateable or would you just lay her?"  On the phone.  You actually said that.  You used the verb "to lay."  What is wrong with you?

I know you saw me give you that dirty look, because you stopped talking right after I looked at you.  It makes me so mad that you boiled that woman down to either 1. date or 2. have sex.  You don't think she's anything more than that?  I hope she says no to both of those things.

It's people like that, who only judge others for outward qualities, whether male or female, who make me angry.  I was mad for the rest of the night about that.  I just kept thinking, do people think about my sister that way, or my cousins, or my friends, or me?  It's kind of gross, really.  It reminds me of my favorite quote from the 40 Year Old Virgin.  "Why does everything have to be about sex?"

I have nothing else to say and I have to go to a staff meeting now, so just soak in this information and use it in your daily life.  It's important.

Okay, I'm back the next day to just add a little more to this particular train of thought.  I hope you learn to respect women, because one day you're going to say something like that in front of someone who will do more than just give you a dirty look.  And I hope you change your mind about that.  How you can go through life thinking about that woman or all women only in that context is beyond me.  I hope that if you actually have any female friends who you don't want to just "lay" (who still says that?), that they tell you that you need to rethink your opinions about women.

I'm done with this, I have no more energy to think about it.

October 30, 2008

Halloween (The Holiday, not the Movie)

Halloween has always been my favorite season because it's basically the only time of the year when my favorite movies are truly appreciated. This is my time, my chance to share what I love. Haunted houses, ghost stories, trick-or-treating, FearFest on AMC (why isn't it MonsterFest anymore?), scary movies released in theaters, costumes, pranks, the leaves falling from the trees, Bradbury's autumn people. I love it all. There's some weird feeling in the air in October. Not scary, just weird.

I know that as a holiday, Halloween is more for children than anyone else. But I urge you to make a claim for Halloween, make it your own. Spend the day watching scary movies (use some of my recommendations!), read a Stephen King novel, buy a costume, tell scary stories by a campfire (a little cold for that, but kudos if you go old-school), eat some candy at least, just get scared. Most people don't enjoy being afraid, but why not? As long as the fear is safe, with no real danger, it should be fun. Screaming your head off at a haunted house is fun because you know you are safe and it will all be over soon- you can laugh with your friends at how you sounded like such a baby. That's why I love horror films- I can be afraid, but at a distance.

I'm going as a pirate this year. I'm going to a party and I'm going trick-or-treating. I'm going to watch a ton of horror movies, like I always do. And I'm going to be scared. I hope you are too.

Happy Halloween.

October 28, 2008

Response: Sarah Palin

by special guest author Kathryn, my friend from French class and the second person who reads this blog.

Cassie: So I wrote that post yesterday about good ol' Sarah Palin, and since I know nothing and care nothing about politics, Kathryn sent me a very nice message about her own views on the matter, which are very well thought-out and logical.  I have to say, she's convinced me.  Although I think gender still plays a small role in this presidential race, I know when to admit I'm wrong.  So here is Kathryn's eloquent response to my political apathy:

"I'm going to respond only because I live and breathe politics (which is a good thing, considering it's my major!). I think the main reason that people are upset with the Palin choice is because of her inability to do her job- which, of course, is to be the President in case anything were to happen to the President. She couldn't answer questions such as what newspapers she reads, what Supreme Court decisions she disagrees with, or even what the role of the VP is. Furthermore, she has consistently illustrated that she disagrees with McCain on key issues so instead of providing a united front, she's really tearing the party into two factions :the very conservative wing vs. the moderate republicans.
As a feminist myself, I actually don't consider the attention paid to Palin is really sexist; if either candidate had chosen a male like Palin, I would be just as upset (especially during these hard times). If anything, the extra attention should be a boost to perform even better: prove that we are just as tough (if not tougher!) than the male dominated industry that always has been politics.
However, I do think the media should leave Palin's family alone and should be off limits. I think if anything it shows the issues that families go through and it makes me sad about the stigma of being a teenage parent.
Finally, I would like to end on the note of the wardrobe: I think the main reason it's an issue is because they used campaign contributions to buy these articles of clothing. If any male candidate used these funds to buy suits, or hookers (Elliot Spitzer), or even a haircut, they should receive the same amount of criticism that Palin has received.
I hope we can still be friends now that I issued my own opinion to your lovely blog! :)"

So thank you for the input, and of course we can still be friends.  Also, you should start a political blog that I could read and actually understand things…

October 27, 2008

Sarah Palin

I hesitate to post this, because (although no one reads this anyway) if someone does see it, I don't know what the reaction will be.  I'm not huge on politics, and I would consider my self a moderate or just apathetic in general.  Of course I will vote.  Absentee, represent. 

(Note: I wrote that first paragraph about three weeks ago, and am just now getting to finish it.  I have a busy life, leave me alone.)

So I voted for Obama, although I kind of feel like it was a waste of a vote since North Dakota has no real impact on politics.  Byron Dorgan is kind of cool though, I think he does stuff in Washington or something.  That just shows you how ignorant I am about politics.  Bottom line: I don't care.

I tend to think I'm typical of young voters, or maybe just voters in general.  I don't care who wins, because as my dad reminded me the other day, as the South Park guys say: the presidential race always is, always has been, and always will be a choice between a giant douche and a turd sandwich.  Words of wisdom.

But back to Sarah Palin though, the main topic at hand.  I know she isn't the best speaker, she has weird dinosaur-related beliefs, and loves guns and pitbulls with lipstick or something, but I almost feel that a lot of the shit people throw at her is based on the fact that she is a woman.  Like the whole $150,000 on clothes thing.  I know for a fact (not really, but it sounds credible enough) that this pseudo-scandal is based solely on her woman-ness.  You know the male candidates spend too much on clothing too, but no one cares because it's not relevant or stereotypical or something.  So they want to make her look good, who cares?  If they're willing to spend the money, good for them.  (Who "they" are, I don't know, but they're watching you, I guarantee it.)

And the pregnant daughter thing just kills me.  It's not her fault her daughter got pregnant, it has absolutely nothing to do with the presidential race, and it happens all the time.  Look around you, there are millions of pregnant teens.  So the Palin girl is going to have a baby, she's taking responsibility for her actions, isn't she?  And to me that would signal good parenting.  It's not like 17 year olds don't have sex.  Gasp!  What's that you say, not in America?  It's just ridiculous.  Leave little funny-name Palin out of this.

And finally, the Palin sex doll, "Nailin' Palin," and all the "she's hot" mentality.  Grow up.  She must be a strong woman to be a governor.  I'm not saying she should be VP, or that she's qualified, but let's give her a little credit at least.  I just feel embarrassed about this whole thing.  The state of feminism in this country, not great.  Not that I'm saying Palin is a feminist, because from what I've seen, she's the opposite.  But lay off.  It's just plain mean.  But I guess that's politics, we just went through a long bash-Palin period.  So hopefully now that that's over, I can go back to not caring.

October 13, 2008

I'm turning into a nerd.

Even more so than before.

The evidence:

1. I've been spending an embarrassing amount of time on somethingawful.com.  When I was on duty on Friday, in between rounds I would go to Something Awful and just read anything I could fin.  I laughed until I cried, no exaggeration.  Just writing about it right now makes me want to go check it out.  How sad.  I'm like an old fat guy who sits on the internet all day and plays WoW.

2. I just called World of Warcraft "Wow."  Plus I'm talking about it.  Don't worry, I don't play it.  And I never ever will.

3. I played Puzzle Quest (which is as nerdy as it sounds) at Kamran's the other day for over an hour.  And then stupid Kamran had to add it to my computer.  He's fueling my nerdiness.  I think he's secretly trying to convert me to gaming.  Slowly but surely.  The fiend.  He just wants a nerdy computer girlfriend who will play video games and design websites and wear glasses.  Nice try, Kamran, but I'm on to you!  You'll never get away with it.

4. I have a blog.  And not just a blog; a blog where I spend a frighteningly significant amount of time reviewing horror movies with love and affection.  Not only is it showing the extent of my horror movie obsession, but it is viewable by the general public.  The only thing working on my side is the fact that Kamran is the only one who reads this.  (And Kathryn.  Bonjour!)

5. I made a math-related joke the other day.  I wish I could remember what it was.  No one laughed, that's probably why I banished it from my memory.

6. I'm going through withdrawal and depression because I've only recently accepted that there are no Harry Potter books yet to be released.  Except I guess The Tales of Beetle the Bard, but that doesn't really count.  (Why do I know that? My facebook ads support my nerdiness as well.)  I've read the books and seen the movies an embarrassing number of time.  I need to overcome this crippling and unsightly addiction and move on with a normal life.  Before it's too late.

7. I find the smallest, weirdest things absurdly funny.  I was talking to a friend last night on facebook and he told me had a paper due on Tuesday.  Except he didn't say "Tuesday," he said "Tuesdart."  I laughed for five minutes straight, out loud, at work.  It was so sad.  Just little things like that are hilarious to me.  I can't explain it, so I won't even try.

I don't know where this new nerdiness is going or where it will take me, but I'm fighting it.  The first step is recognition, and I've done that.  I need to try to be cooler.  Spend less time on the internet.  Who am I kidding, I'm going to fail.  (Epic fail?)  This is what I'm talking about.

October 9, 2008

Gross Incompetence

My professor wrote in his slides today: Publish or Parish (sic).  Not perish.  Parish.  What does that mean, publish or go to church?  So it goes.

I know people aren't perfect.  But he happened to be talking about professors being fired for gross incompetence.  This is of course a small offense, but I thought it was an interesting coincidence.  I hope I don't spell anything wrong in this post, otherwise my whole point is lost.  So it goes.

At times I feel like people only want to hear their own opinions.  On politics, religion, abortion, immigration, education, all that jazz.  People are so selfish.  What is the point of a blog besides shoving my own beliefs and opinions down people's throats?  I don't try to, you can take it or leave it.  Grain of salt and whatnot.  I generally keep that rule in most of my opinions.  I don't try to convert people to my religion, I don't push my politics on others, I don't even tell people my opinions on certain things because I don't want to fight about it.  They don't want to hear my opinion, it don't change their own.  People are stubborn, that's all.  Self improvement is masturbation.  So is blogging.  So it goes.

I used to be afraid when people brought up the future.  Now I'm in college, which used to be the future.  I've hardened myself against that anxiety about what will happen to me in the future.  At least for the most part.  Nothing I can do about it now.  Now people bring up senior projects and grad school and careers and I just stare.  So what?  This is your life.  And I don't care.  It'll happen when and if it happens.  If not, there's always a plan B.  None of your business.  People just want to compare their bright and wonderful futures to your dismal, unhappy, and impossible one.  Good for you, you don't have a completely fucked up life.  It won't matter in sixty years, we're all going to the same place.  Don't worry about me, I'll achieve what I'm out to achieve.  Dreams change.  That doesn't mean I'll give mine up.  You can talk about the future all you want, but until it gets here, it's all talk.  That's why I try not to think about it.  Why make myself stressed?  I have enough of that already.  Maybe I'm just hiding from myself, and if so, I still don't care.  Funny how things work out.  So it goes.

Life is short.  As proof, watch any horror movie, and you'll know what I'm talking about.

October 2, 2008

Frustration with Classes? Of course.

I really think the reason people become professors is just so they can sit up on a soapbox and listen to themselves talk.  When will a certain professor of mine learn that nothing he says is important or necessary?  He draws ten slides out to two hours, no lie.  He puts in little tangents and "jokes" that he must believe are relevant, but have nothing to do with the course.  This is an upper division course, all the students just finished the course concentrating on research methods.  By the title alone, I'm sure you realize that that class goes through an entire semester of research methods in detail; every boring, tedious, drawn-out detail.  Yet this professor feels the need to explain to us how to use APA method.  How to write a fucking paper.  Research methods yet again.  It makes me want to cry and become an emo.  And I don't like the emo style at all.  Do you see what this is driving me towards?

The worst thing is that he tells us every day that we're going to get out early, and we never do.  We are supposed to be working in the lab, not sitting in the darkened B.F. Skinner room talking about how to peer review.  We've been doing peer reviews since middle school.  Middle school.  I get so pissed that I want to scream when I'm in class.  It's mind-numbingly dull.  That's one thing the University needs to take care of.  Get rid of these terrible professors.  I am paying for this education, and when I get a class like this, I think, what a waste of time, money, brain cells, anger hatred, and energy.  I spend the whole two hours doodling and I couldn't care less.  I feel trapped in my own brain. 

It's like a slow torture, they are breaking our spirits so we will be their slaves in the labs.  Another thing: I'm not going into psychology research.  I want to be a therapist.  So why in hell am I required to do research for these people?  Oh, right, we're trying to be a top research University.  I feel used.

"Oh, it's good for your education, you'll have more experience, and…uh…also, we're going to suck out your soul and force you to raise our standing as a research University…Thanks!"

They are honestly just using us.  Don't get me wrong, I love the two research projects I've worked on.  But when I am forced to do this, there is no joy for me.  It's just a job.  Going to this class is like a death camp.  (Melodramatic, but only slightly so.)  Why can't they provide me with something that will actually help me with my future career?  I can't put up with this incompetence.  The fact that University doesn't give a shit about me is terrifying.  I've had numerous problems with different departments here and it honestly has taught me one thing that this University does not want me here.  I'm very sorry to feel this way, because I love it here.  I love all the classes I've taken, and I mean every single one, but the process of getting things together just isn't working here.  Departments don't work together, they have no idea what's going on, I've had people yell at me for not having things in on time even when I did, no one answers calls or e-mails or letters or drop-ins.  Departments do not work together, they have no idea what the other departments are doing.  How can I put any faith into my education when I have no faith in the University caring for me?

I wrote this during my class.  I didn't listen to a word the professor said.  Which is funny, because I will probably still get an A.

September 18, 2008

The Most Boring Day in History

I honestly think my brain died for a few minutes in class today.  Or at least I wanted it to.  I also thought about these options: jumping out the second story window, banging my head on the desk, crying, running away, standing up and yelling cuss-words, screaming, and falling asleep.  But of course, I couldn't do any of these things, so I just sat there and did some long division problems.  For some reason unknown to me, long division makes time pass very quickly.  It's like some weird time-space portal that causes the clock to speed up.  Try it sometime, I guarantee it will work.

But how can teachers possibly believe that anything they say is in the least bit interesting?  Do they talk this way at home, with their husbands or wives or children, etc?  I hope not.  I would punch my parents in the head if they talked like that.

And now all I can do is just sit here and be pissed off.  I'm pretty sure my classes can be boiled down to about ten minutes each, and I would get the same amount of information in a better format.  I have no patience left in my entire body for anything as useless as that class.  That's a pretty bold statement, but I think I can back it up.  Whether I will or not depends on my mood, but I guess I'll think about it.  No, I can't write anymore.  I'm sick of thinking.

September 8, 2008

Class Analysis

So the first week is over, and I think my classes will be fun.  That doesn't mean I want to go, but at least I might get some enjoyment out of them.  Sometimes.  Maybe.

So here is a short list and grading of each of my classes.  Because I can.

1. French Phonetics: While not the most fun I've ever had in a French class, it is highly amusing to say "ah ah ah ooo ooo ooo ewww ewww ewww" for three straight minutes, while watching the teacher judge your lip formation.  A little creepy, yes, but the trick is not to laugh when you know the girl behind you is saying everything wrong and she thinks she's so good at French.  She's not.  On the plus side, there's barely any homework.  On the minus side, we have to memorize the International Phonetic Alphabet, which sounds like something some guy designed so he could say he made up his own language.  He didn't, what a cop out.  Overall Grade: B-

2. Child Psychology: The teacher seems nice so far, but I don't feel like I've really learned anything yet.  Plus we have to write a reaction paper already this week.  What is that all about?  I expect no homework for the first month.  Maybe it's not a realistic expectation, but I need time to get used to the year, get into the flow of things.  Be lazy.  A little kid came to class the other day, that was pretty cute.  But otherwise it's just a very standard psychology class, complete with the scientific method (to make it seem more legitimate), research methods (never heard of that before…), and discussions of Darwin and Freud (psychologists still have a boner about those two for some reason.)  Overall Grade: C+

3. Film Study: So far it seems interesting enough, and I've always wanted to take a film study class.  And the teacher looks just like that guy who played Rick in Degrassi.  The actor's name is Ephraim Ellis, I think.  Yes, I imdb'ed him because I was sure that he was teaching my film study class.  That would have made me so happy.  But oh well, I still call him Rick when I talk about that class.  Rick says that if we miss one class, we fail.  We miss one assignment, we fail.  We miss his birthday, we fail.  I made that last one up, but I don't want to fail, so I won't miss it, just in case.  Overall Grade: B+, Overall Grade if Rick was really my teacher: A+

4. Research Practicum: Pretty standard, 12 hours per week is a little much for my taste, but it should be fun anyway, since we get to work in a psychology field that interests us.  Yet, why do I have to do this if I'm not going into research psychology?  Yeah, yeah, top research university, they brainwash us into researching, oh I mean they highly encourage research.  They're getting to me already.  Overall Grade: C

5. Cognitive Psychology: The teacher seems awesome, a ball-buster in fact.  And since I'm female, I'll be okay.  All the quizzes and tests are online, unlimited time on quizzes, ten questions each, interesting material, I have a friend/fellow CA in the class, and it only meets twice a week.  Exactly what I want in a class.  We already learned about some weird brain-enhancing techniques, and I love that kind of almost-sci-fi-but-it's-real stuff.  Overall Grade: A+

I think it's going to be an awesome semester, I'm having a great time so far, I have good classes, an amazing job, and I'll be an aunt by the end of the day.  Life is good.

September 2, 2008

First Day of Class: Free Haikus

It’s raining.  Not a great day, but not a terrible one.  Sounds like a haiku.

“The leaf shakes in wind. 

Blowing in the soothing breeze. 

Classes are boring.â€? 

I feel no creativity at the moment, so I didn’t want to write a review of anything.  I’m listening to the Beatles and reading Alice in Wonderland.  I love it, very trippy and weird.  Good times.

I had a child psychology class this morning, I have a cognitive psychology class tonight.  Not too shabby.  The teacher seemed nice.  Otherwise pretty standard fare for a first day back in the fall.  It’s too hot though. 

“Rainy, hot, muggy. 

The stale classroom makes me sick. 

I wish I weren’t here.�

I think I’ll just haiku it up today, describe my life in a 5-7-5.  That’s a pretty accurate assessment of my emotional state at the moment.  If I really try, I can easily write sentences that sound like they belong in textbooks.  “Throughout the course of each hectic yet monotonous day, my life as an average college-aged student has become a more typical representation of the adolescent malaise seen most clearly in the late teens and early twenties.  A typical day in the life of such a student consists most commonly of an acute discontentment, a disconsolate maladjustment to the fact that the child-mind must be abandoned in order to become a contributing member of society, and that adult life is not represented clearly in the play-acting so popular among young children.â€?  I just made that up.  I think I will write a bullshit textbook of sentences like that, with no real research or facts behind it and just market it as some new child-rearing strategy.  It would have to be leather-bound, and people would smoke pipes while reading it, and guffaw at their children’s emotions.

“My leather-bound books

Prove to the world my smartness.

Education? Ha.�

August 28, 2008

A short break

School is starting soon.  When did summer start going by so fast?  I still can't believe I'm already a junior.  I feel like I should still be in about eighth grade.  Not that I want to repeat the past few years, they just seem to have gone by way too fast.

I'll be graduating next year.  That is so weird to think about.  I remember worrying about going to college, now I have to worry about going to grad school and entering life and the real world.  I guess this happens to everyone though, this realization that it's time to grow up.  And maybe it's happening just a little late for me, since I've been on my own for almost three years now.  Soon I'll have to get a real job in my real career with my real education and buy a real house and have a real family.  How weird, they try to prepare you for your whole life, with high school and college, but then when you actually get there, you have no idea what to do.

I like being independent, but at the same time, it's nice to have someone there for you.  And now it's just me, no parents to protect me and tell me what to do.  But I'm glad.  There's no better way to grow up than to be forced into it.  That way there are no excuses, you have to just suck it up and do it.

Women in Horror

I thought I’d spice it up and share the paper I wrote about feminism in horror movies.  I got an A.  I don’t necessarily believe all the theory I present, but it's interesting anyway.

Fear of the Feminine

“All they want to see is demented madmen running around in ski masks hacking up young virgins.�

Peter Vincent (Roddy McDowall), Fright Night

The horror film is one of the least respected genres of cinema, and yet many of the values of culture today are shown within the context of horror. Scary movies reveal what frightens society most through monstrous representations and gore directed at victims who are feared by the public. These films show heavy symbolism especially in the portrayal of females and femininity, through images of sexual intercourse, fear of castration, and the strength of females. Horror films, and specifically the slasher subgenre, are famous for portraying women as hypersexual damsels in distress who are usually murdered within the first five minutes as punishment for their indiscretions. This tactic is used to great effect in such films as Friday the 13th and Halloween. Another standard of horror is the depiction of females as antagonists, which is a reflection of men’s pathological fear of women and menstruation, resulting in castration anxiety. The Exorcist and Carrie are both good examples of making the female monstrous and horrifying. However, in recent years, there has been a positive step within the horror genre toward the heroic woman in films. In movies such as The Descent and A Nightmare on Elm Street, women can be seen defeating typically male villains and exhibiting strength and intelligence. Women in horror films have come a long way, moving from victim to heroine, and I think that this change signals the acceptance of the power of women in society and can only be a step forward for feminism.

A horror film is defined as any movie specifically designed to cause fear, anxiety, or discomfort through a variety of monsters, supernatural beings, or frightening situations (Rasmussen 1). But behind all the blood, gore, and mayhem, horror films reflect a wide variety of societal views through symbolism and victim choice. The female subject is shown in horror movies in different ways through time and I believe that the present portrayal of the feminine shows progress toward acceptance and equality between the sexes (Thornham 251). Women are beginning to come into their own in the horror genre, showing that they are as strong as men and are not the sexual objects they were once perceived as in classic horror. Slasher films and films with women as villains are still being made, but the force and power of women in horror cannot be ignored (Thornham 238). Although much progress is still needed, this is a step in a positive direction and can only signal more change to come.

Women as victims have a long history in horror cinema, popularized in such classic gothic horror films as Dracula and Frankenstein (Freeland 4). These films portrayed women as frail, beautiful creatures needing to be rescued by the male protagonist from the clutches of the vaguely sexual male villain. But the subgenre only truly became popular (and disturbing) with the introduction of the slasher film, which shows a murderer stalking mainly female victims with a knife or other weapon, brutally murdering these sexually independent women very early in the film (Thornton 236). The first true slasher film is widely acknowledged to be Psycho, Alfred Hitchcock’s masterpiece about a psychotic killer of women who is obsessed with his own mother (Psycho). In all films following, the phallic knife used as the standard method of murder speaks volumes about the symbolic punishment for these women. Because most of these females are shown early in the movie as sexually active, they are guaranteed to die first (Thornton 238). The fear of a sexually independent woman is revealed through her death, when the male killer thrusts his knife into her, taking away her sexual power through the symbolic rape of her body. “Horror is cultural apparatus for keeping the sexually active woman in her place� (Badley 102). With the knife’s penetration, the sexually frustrated male serial killer is taking away all of the woman’s sexuality and showing his power. In the majority of slasher films, this formula of the male killer targeting female victims is used to repress women and take away any power they may have had, thereby making them non-threatening to men because they hold no sexual control (Freeland 185). Male sexuality can then be shown through the act of murder, since most killers in slasher films are sexually repressed themselves (Freeland 187). Only through penetration and murder can these men find sexual freedom.

The women in slasher films are often objectified and shown as nothing more than sex objects. For example, in the Friday the 13th series, many of the women are seen half clothed and hyper-sexualized, taking away the audience’s ability to sympathize with them because they are seen as less valuable. The plot of the films takes place at a summer camp, which makes the women easy targets to be picked off by the killer, who wants revenge after drowning as a boy because the camp counselors were not watching him (Friday the 13th). The full rage of the murderer comes out most strongly in the cases of the females because of the inadequacy he feels as a male (Clover 32). Classic slasher films usually show a direct cause and effect link between sex and death, with murder serving as a symbolic punishment for any kind of immoral intercourse. “Killing those who seek or engage in unauthorized sex amounts to a generic imperative of the slasher film� (Clover 34). The symbolism illustrates a kind of unconscious moral lesson to the viewer that if he or she strays from the path of good behavior, the result could be death.

Another staple of the horror genre is the classic 1978 film Halloween, which chronicles the tale of Michael Myers, the demented killer bent on the massacre of his younger sister (Halloween). When Michael cannot reach his sister in order to slaughter her, he substitutes other young women in her place in order to justify killing them (Clover 24). Myers does not seem to care whether he kills the right girl; indeed, all females seem equal to him and killing any number of them does not bother him. He is a killing machine and nothing can truly stop him, not even the ingenuity of the main female character, who is able to repeatedly injure him but can never quite get rid of him (Clover 30). This seems to prove the idea of the superiority and strength of men over women and the fact that the males in horror films always triumph over the females. Women are shown as being weak, inferior, and less intelligent, and male killers in slasher films can never be defeated by the heroines. Slasher films usually promote the ideals of male superiority and the defeat of the feminine, but more recent films reject these stereotypes.

The slasher genre does not represent the only portrayal of females in horror cinema. Horror movies eventually moved on to newer representations of women as villains, the main source of evil in the film. These women represented the fears men associated with the female sex, and they became more terrifying than their male counterparts because of their lack of femininity and their portrayal of normally masculine behaviors. Because these women deviated from the norm, it was easier for men to see them as demonic or sinister (Thornham 256). Yet the female as villain also symbolizes the male fear of menstruation, evidenced by the large amounts of blood surrounding these characters. Although male killers in horror movies are also surrounded by blood, the association of blood with the female sex in modern horror cinema confirms her connection to sin and evil. Many horror films define women’s sexuality as “the source of all evil and menstruation as the sign of sin� (Thornham 256). Women as villains become synonymous with horror, shame, and sin because they are the source of blood.

Many horror films such as The Thing, Poltergeist, and Videodrome use rich symbolic images to represent the female genitalia in order to frighten the audience (Thornham 261). The vaginal representations in horror cinema usually give birth to some horrible monster or suck in some unsuspecting victim, showing the fear especially of the mother’s womb. These images terrify audiences because of their association with the “black hole� of the mother’s womb, which proves to men the concept of castration. The empty space seems to remind the male audience about what is missing. Barbara Creed explains that the main reason why men are also frightened of menstruating females is because of castration anxiety (Thornham 256). The woman’s body becomes the symbol of the incomplete male because of her lack of a penis, and as a result, she must bring her rage against others in the form of murder and horror because of her jealousy. The male sees his own castrated self in the part of the woman because of what she is missing, so he portrays her as evil and wicked.

One of the most famous representations of woman as villain in a horror film is that of Carrie, the shy, quiet high school student who suddenly develops telekinetic powers and uses them to take her revenge on the other students at prom (Carrie). Carrie, based on the book by Stephen King, was one of the earlier horror films to show the woman fighting back, and even though she was clearly evil, female audiences seemed to cheer on her rampage because they understood her pain (Freeland 57). The first scene of the film shows Carrie getting her first period, with her powers developing soon after (Carrie). Carrie’s power seems to come from her menstrual cycle, which is why she causes so much fear within the male sex (Clover 3). Men fear a woman’s sexual power and the fact that one day women could become equal to men using their sexuality. Carrie’s behavior only becomes evil once she has fully accepted her feminine power, showing the male fear of female domination (Clover 4). Contrasting slasher films, which depict women as weak and repressed, Carrie and her fellow female villains become the strong characters, so men must represent them as evil and strange. They are seen as abnormal because it is unusual to see a woman with that kind of power. Carrie triumphed over the stereotypes of classic horror by becoming a female villain that an audience could understand because she started out as a victim.

One of the most memorable scenes of Carrie is the climax at the high school prom, when a bucket of pig’s blood is dropped on Carrie in order to embarrass her, although the prank backfires when she slaughters her classmates (Carrie). Creed sees the pig’s blood as a symbol of menstruation because of its occurrence during a moment of intense pleasure and in a time of Carrie’s life when she is undergoing a great change (Thornham 256). Throughout the film, women are also referred to as pigs, and the flow of the pig’s blood represents the shame associated with menstruation and the beginning of womanhood. It is especially fitting that Carrie first uses her powers for evil (representing her passage into womanhood) immediately after being drenched in blood, becoming truly wicked only when associated with menstruation.

Another great example of the woman as a villain is shown in The Exorcist. Widely acknowledged as the scariest film of all time, The Exorcist tells the story of a young girl, Regan, who becomes possessed by the devil and must be exorcised by a priest in order to save her soul (The Exorcist). The film follows the same fear of menstruation, since Regan is possessed just before reaching puberty and she is transformed by the demon just as she would be by womanhood. But the change that Regan experiences in the film represents the complete opposite: through demonic possession, she becomes more masculine, with a deep voice, aggressive speech, and great physical strength (Clover 103). Regan’s body becomes perverted and “the foulness of woman is signified by her putrid, filthy body� (Thornham 256). She is seen as less of a woman and the corruption of her innocence and femininity provides the terror of most of the film. There is some terrible power seen when the young, innocent girl is transformed into a snarling, masculine beast because it is so unnatural. Males fear the power of females especially when females become more masculine, so Regan as a woman is seen as disgusting, dirty, and strange.

The film presents Regan’s predicament as a direct result of her lack of a father or any other male influence in her life, since she is raised by a single mother. Once possessed, Regan can only be saved by another male, the priest who becomes her new father figure (Thornham 256). She is shown as both a victim and a villain, and a woman in her situation can only find redemption in the male sex, according to the film. The film serves as a “lesson on what happens to the woman who drifts out of the orbit of male control� (Clover 103). Regan’s savior, Father Damian Karras, has himself lost religion and only through Regan can he regain his faith. In effect, he uses Regan for his own means and her pain brings him strength (Clover 88). Even the demon oppressing Regan is male, so she is truly being pushed from all sides by male influences, whether good or bad. Her life and her fate lie in the hands of men and she has no control over her own destiny. This signifies the desire of the male sex for control over females, again because of the fear that women will gain power in society (Clover 102). Regan made such a compelling victim/villain because of her original innocence and femininity, but it was her eventual masculinity that caused terror.

In recent years, horror films have taken a better turn toward equality for women as heroines. The concept of women as heroines has been used in many older horror films, but the women in those films were usually portrayed as weak, frail, and dependent on men. They represented innocence and beauty, often becoming the sexual fantasy of the film’s main villain, with no chance of saving themselves without male intervention (Rasmussen 7). But the women of modern horror can take care of themselves and do not rely on males for help. They utilize their femininity in order to defeat male villains and their strength frightens men because they hold the power in these films. Although slasher films and films with women as villains still exist and are made quite often, the occurrence of heroine horror has also grown into a powerful force in the modern genre.

An earlier example of the strong woman in horror actually occurs in a classic slasher film, A Nightmare on Elm Street. In the film, a monstrous child molester named Freddy Krueger stalks teenagers in their dreams for revenge after being burned alive by their parents (A Nightmare on Elm Street). Although the other female characters are murdered, the film’s heroine, Nancy, is the only one to figure out Freddy’s method and motives, and therefore is the only one to survive, even appearing in two sequels before being killed off (A Nightmare on Elm Street). As a character, Nancy is interesting because she could have become just like any other disposable woman in a slasher film, but she rises above the stereotype and becomes a heroine, showing courage in the face of evil. Nancy counters Freddy’s masculinity by using her own intelligence and strength against him, showing him her power and control as a woman. “When he enters the house, she dares him to come at her, then charges him in direct attack� (Clover 38). Nancy is a girl who is not afraid to fight for her life and believing in her own strength saves her in the end from Freddy’s clutches. At the beginning of the film, she seems like any other girl in a slasher movie, but by the end she has accepted her role and uses her feminine strength against the villain.

One scene in the film seems to show Freddy’s supposed power over Nancy and the fact that she is unafraid to fight back. After her first encounter with Krueger, Nancy takes a bath in order to rest from her stressful day and falls asleep in the tub (A Nightmare on Elm Street). The audience does not realize she is dreaming until a clawed hand rises between her open legs in the bathtub. The symbolism of Freddy’s intentions in this scene is obvious: as a male, he feels he may dominate Nancy and take advantage of her (Clover 76). Nancy is completely exposed, vulnerable, and powerless. But Freddy underestimates the power of women, a mistake that many other men in modern horror films have made, and it becomes his downfall. Nancy uses his own power against him, representing the ability of the female to use the phallic weapon against the man, meeting him on his own terms (Clover 49). Freddy, as a male, fears Nancy’s ability to abandon her femininity and become like him in order to fight back, in effect using his sexual repression and deviance against him. This is a common theme in horror films that portray women as heroines and I believe that this trend will only continue to show the strength of the female sex.

A more recent example of the courageous female in horror cinema showcases feminism and women’s strength without including the oppressive male villain. This is important because it shows that women need neither male help nor male hindrance to achieve their goals. The Descent, released in 2005, chronicles a group of women as they explore a remote series of caves in the Appalachians, eventually becoming trapped after a large cave-in. Only after searching for a way out do they discover that they are not alone: they are actually surrounded by humanoid creatures that have evolved underground and stalk them through the caves (The Descent). The film features only female main characters and each is shown as an independent, confident adventurer. Exploring these caves, with wide tunnels that obviously symbolize female genitalia and exploring their own femininity, the group must escape without male aid from an enemy that is not purely masculine. The women use their femininity to their own advantage in order to exploit the weaknesses of the creatures. In a nod to the final scene from Carrie, one of the women emerges from a pool of blood, covered head to toe just as Carrie was after the prom, which represents her acceptance of her womanhood, using the symbol of menstruation against the enemy (The Descent). The women of the film are not frail damsels in distress and they hold their own in situations that show their physical and mental strength. They don’t need the help of men because they hold their own power in a negative situation. The film is interesting because it does not include any male characters, but the women still try to overcome the monsters on their own. Because of their strong personalities and independence, the group of women is able to confirm that they can be just as courageous as their male counterparts, proving that a woman can make it in the world without the help of a man.

The Descent and A Nightmare on Elm Street indicate a new movement in modern horror toward equality between the sexes. While I don’t believe that sexist horror films will every fully disappear, I think that the direction the genre is moving toward is more positive than it has been in the past. Women are being accepted as legitimate heroes with true strength and willpower in a traditionally chauvinistic field of cinema. No longer are men the saviors of the genre. Women are beginning to play an important part in horror, not just becoming easy victims. However, many still see horror as a negative impact in film, mainly because of the extreme violence and degradation against women. But one could argue that many different genres show excessive violence as well, and women are not portrayed as they once were in classic horror. The times have changed and the portrayal of women has changed along with them. I agree that horror is not a genre for everyone, but it should at least be appreciated as a legitimate art form within cinema. If scary movies continue to move in the positive direction they have been leaning toward, the genre may become more respected and equal to other genres of cinema.

Through the medium of the modern horror film, one can view the real fears that grip society even today. Although there may not be a real Freddy Krueger or Carrie, scary movies reveal what haunts culture most. The power of women and femininity is a recurring theme in horror cinema. By portraying women as victims or villains, men have repressed the true power of the female because they fear it. Through the symbolism of penetration and menstruation, these films have tried to show women as tools of only sin and sex. But recent films have broken through the stereotypes and shown women as heroines, taking their lives into their own hands. The women of modern horror do not need the help of male figures and they often triumph over male villains. Horror cinema has come a long way since the classic slasher flick, but there is still much more to accomplish. Although sexism in horror movies may never be fully vanquished, great films have been made showing the strength and equality of women. If this trend continues, horror films may see a day when women are no longer portrayed as weak, frail, or inherently evil. Perhaps once women are respected within horror films, the genre itself will become a more legitimate form of cinema.

 

Works Cited

Badley, Linda. Film, Horror, and the Body Fantastic. USA: Greenwood Press, 1995.

Carrie. Dir. Brian De Palma. Redbank Films, 1976.

Clover, Carol. Men, Women, and Chainsaws. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1992.

The Descent. Dir. Neil Marshall. Celador Films, 2005.

The Exorcist. Dir. William Friedkin. Warner Bros. Pictures, 1973.

Freeland, Cynthia A. The Naked and the Undead. USA: Westview Press, 2000.

Friday the 13th. Dir. Sean S. Cunningham. Georgetown Productions, 1980.

Fright Night. Dir. Tom Holland. Perf. Roddy McDowall. Columbia Pictures, 1985.

Halloween. Dir. John Carpenter. Compass International Pictures, 1978.

A Nightmare on Elm Street. Dir. Wes Craven. New Line Cinema, 1984.

Psycho. Dir. Alfred Hitchcock. Shamley Productions, 1960.

Rasmussen, Randy Loren. Children of the Night: The Six Archetypal Characters of Classic Horror Films. USA: McFarland & Company, Inc., 1998.

Thornham, Sue. Feminist Film Theory. New York: New York University Press, 1999.

August 24, 2008

Olympics

I thought I’d switch things up for once and write about something not-so-scary.  At least not for the viewers.

Before this year, I thought the Olympics were super boring.  I hated them and didn’t understand how anyone could possibly be entertained by them.  I don’t know what changed my mind, maybe because I’m older now or they had a good marketing campaign or there were some well-publicized athletes.  Whatever it was, I couldn’t get enough of the Olympics.  For me, huge sports competitions like this are both fascinating and frightening.  I can’t imagine getting all the way to the games, representing yourself and your country and then blowing it all because you had a bad dive or you weren’t quite as fast as usual.  How do you recover from something like that?  Every time someone lost, I felt so bad for them that I couldn’t even watch anymore.  Like when that thirty year old female diver messed up really bad on her first or second dive because her legs weren’t straight enough.  This was her last meet.  She was expected to win or at least be in the top three.  She was dead last.  I felt so bad for her, she was crying at the end and stuff.  I wanted to cry.  These people devote their whole lives to these sports, and while I normally hate sports, I can’t help but admire their persistence and devotion.  But how awful that must be to train your whole life just for this one day and then it’s gone in just a second.  What’s left in life?  That’s pretty depressing, so I guess the Olympics are good for promoting teamwork, sportsmanship, and bringing together the world.  But for those individual athletes who mess up, it must suck.

Plus all the other athletes have to put up with everyone talking about Michael Phelps all the time.  I bet the other parents of the swimmers say, “Why can’t you be more like Michael Phelps?â€?  He’s amazing, but that would just suck to be up against him or to be even on his team.  Constant comparisons, I guarantee it.

And the whole China thing was big too.  It was amazing that they took out that whole chunk of Beijing just to host the Olympic games.  I think overall though, it’s good to promote these sportsmanlike ideals and world togetherness.  I hope the next Olympics is as dramatic and epic as this one.  And what am I supposed to watch for the next four years?

June 30, 2008

Keeping a Diary

A little break from my morbid entries. I just wanted to share a small opinion that I think everyone should keep a diary. I've kept one on-and-off since I was about 8 years old. I am now 20 and I still can't believe the stupid ramblings I thought were important in 3rd grade. Watching how I've changed through the years is weirdly fascinating, and you wouldn't believe how much my handwriting fluctuates. I often think about how amazing it would be if my ancestors had kept diaries that I could read (my great-grandmother left one, but her handwriting is nearly indecipherable), to understand more about them and in turn about myself and where I come from. I don't have that gift, so now I put these diaries together as a gift to all who come after me. I realize (perhaps through my repeated viewings of such gruesome movies) that I must die one day, but just like those before me and those who will come after me, I don't want to be completely lost, gone, and forgotten. I plan to leave something of myself behind on this planet, besides children of course. I also understand a lot more about myself through writing down my feelings, events, and most importantly for me, my dreams.
You may think it's weird that I have written down nearly every dream I've had (and remembered) for about six years now, but even thinking about all the information I've gathered about my dreaming gets me excited. (Not like that, you pervert.) Not only do I leave behind the gift of my life, but I leave behind what happened to me when I slept, in the hope that perhaps someday dreams will be understood, or at least laughed at because I have messed up dreams. I'm realistic, I know I can't change the world by writing a diary, but I know that it makes me feel a little safer having written everything down.
So I challenge you, the reader, if you exist and if you so choose, to begin writing an account of your life, whether it focuses on your waking life or your dreams. And really, what have you got to lose?