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the hearse

April 30, 2014

I wrote a post a year ish ago while I was taking behavioral neuroscience and my teacher could not craft an exam to save his (questionable) soul, wherein I bitched a lot about said teacher and his inability to value my GPA.

I got a lot of questions right according to the book, but wrong according to the exams; I imagine because he just couldn’t set them up properly, not because he actually disagreed with the book. I posted all the questions I missed on my mid-term and all my (correct goddammit) answers in the aforementioned blog post, and I argued my veracity at length. This is because by this time the entire class had given up trying to get any actual response from the actual teacher at any point in time ever, and come to terms with the unfairness of our collective fate. I still got an A, but I will be damned if I understand how. Maybe he went back and corrected grades without telling any of us.

The point of all this is that now every standard college testing time, say from mid-terms onward to finals, my blog just blows the fuck up. It is very, very popular. Dozens of people hit my blog every day just googling ‘research investigating the relationship between gender traits and psychological health suggest that it is most adaptive to…’ This is my most frequent search term ever, it has left ‘bleach hair fall out’ and ‘how to pee in a hoop skirt,’ my other front runners, in the dust.

I wonder how I should feel about this, sometimes. Clearly there are some lazy people out there taking behavioral neuroscience or some psych such, and they are not studying, and they are googling test answers. I would feel bad about this, except that school is kind of a crock anyhow and really if I had been allowed to google the answers to some of the questions on my math test I would not have gotten an F. Take ye note and tremble, all ye who come here looking for answers to test questions: I have gotten an F before. God speed to you and all that, but you might want to read through a few abstracts before taking my word for it that it is most adaptive to be androgynous. It is, I guarantee it. According to behavioral neuroscience classes. But just saying. It is also a super fascinating topic and you should totally read about it somewhere other than a blog whose main function is to hold onto all the things I like and don’t like about life.

I have spoke.

I am

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just feelin’ it

April 30, 2014

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cleaning apartment

April 28, 2014

So I have this vendetta going right now, the vendetta that is not against math in general; this vendetta can be described as follows.

I loved modcloth. I loved it a lot. It has all sorts of cute absurdly overpriced things, flush with good lines and excellent color schemes, it has interesting concepts and mostly skillful execution…and above all it has a merry sort of reverence for the precious bits of retro that I most specifically adore and have difficult times finding in real life from their actual time period. So I loved modcloth, I thought modcloth and I had the same sort of mindset going, sisters under our skins and all that; two hearts that beat as one, despite the vast financial gap that cruelly star crossed us.

And then I needed bridesmaid dresses.

Of course when you need a bridesmaid you turn to your best friend, your sister in arms, your partner in crime. I feel I cannot be blamed for turning to the same such entity when I needed bridesmaid dresses.

And modcloth? Modcloth has pissed all over our past happiness in an infuriatingly passive aggressive manner. Modcloth has refused for the past five months to produce any sort of bridesmaid drapery that I like, that my girls would all like, that would remotely go with my wedding, that does not cost eighty bajillion dollars, that comes in everyone’s size. Modcloth is all like, no, we’re so close, you know I got you girl, and in the meantime it is frittering its time away on super unimportant stuff like fucking high heels with bunnies on them. Nobody needs fucking high heels with bunnies on them, modcloth.

So my vendetta, which has been raging in a quiet sort of way within my thwarted breast ever since I went and found the perfect bridesmaid dresses somewhere else, is this: every morning I visit modcloth, and I look to see if modcloth is still fucking me, so that I can tell modcloth to its face on a daily basis how disappointed in it I would be if I hadn’t already gone and handled my shit on my own. Screw you, modcloth. Five months counting and nothing.

Nothing but fucking bunnies high heels and dresses that look like a bedsheet pulled through a napkin ring.

I am

The other night I had a dream where I had to represent a mean cat as a function; verbally, symbolically, graphically and numerically.

Last night I woke up in the wee hours with the answer to the one question I know beyond a shadow of a doubt I missed on yesterday’s quiz burning into my brain; perfect, comprehensible, understood…too late.

I am clearly taking this math class to heart, and also to bed with me. I feel both pleased and chagrined at this realization. Furthermore it would be super if in the future my brain could come up with the answers to those tough questions while I am awake, and during the space of time where I actually need it to earn those sweet points.

Thanks anyway though, brain. Good job.

I am

Interesting weekly horoscope:

When I took an intermediate painting class in college, our first assignment was to imitate an old master. My choice was the Flemish painter Pieter Breugel the Elder (1525-1569). I worked on reproducing his painting The Fight Between Carnival and Lent as precisely as I could. It was tedious and liberating. I invoked Breugel’s spirit and prayed for his guidance. I sank my psyche deeply into his. By the end of the four-week process I’d learned a lot about painting. Given the current astrological omens, Sagittarius, I suggest you try something similar. Pick someone who excels at a way of working or a state of being that you would like to master yourself, and copy that person for a while. For best results, have fun with it. Play!

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In the world of rampant be yourself and damned be anything that keeps you from it, this is a novel idea. Especially since the older I get the more I realize that the main and major thing that ever keeps me from being myself is myself. Other people, not having five lane highway insight to my soul and moreover being way more interested in themselves than they ever could be in me, are not so much bothered by the minute aberrations of selfness that play across my surface on a constant basis. The concept of peer pressure is not dead, but it’s not remotely important with any frequency; the angst of fitting in where requisite and being a breakaway when acceptable is just not there any longer, people say that you’re the most self involved when you’re a teenager but you are definitely more self focused when you’re an adult. Meaning, I guess, that you have less time to notice how you are and how everyone else is, because there’s an ever deepening canyon of more important things to do with your time and your attention; and the need for anyone else to be true to the golden mean is just not so much. I haven’t heard the word ‘poser’ in like, a really long time, is what I’m saying.

So the standing in one’s own way of being one’s own self. The realization that there is no real facade of critique and judgment to throw oneself against any more, except the shit generated by oneself.

It kind of opens up this ability to try on other person’s behaviors without feeling like a poser for it! I feel so often that adulthood is just another track of childhood, now that the turmoil of FIGURING ALL THE SHIT OUT of the teens and early twenties has passed. Now that we’ve come full circle to face the knowledge that we are all MAKING UP ALL THE SHIT AS WE GO, the pressure to be any certain way at any certain time has decreased like a balloon with a scissor gash in it. All I am saying in my long winded way is that for the first time in years I feel it’s ok to spend some time emulating a person that I admire, instead of jackboot stomping across everything in just my very way. After all, we acquire the most primal and necessary scaffolding for our entire lives by observing others, forming opinions on their perspectives, actions, and consequent outcomes, and modeling our own after or against them. Now that I know myself is entrenched pretty firmly in there, we can just go ahead and not worry about losing our soul on a day jaunt into the realms of someone else’s worldview, I am kind of excited to look around again and not only see how other people then live, but try on the skins of their worldview for awhile and see how they feel.

I am starting with Mark Twain.

I am

 

dope flow, intraveneous

April 2, 2014

March

the skin beneath

horse

bandwagon

carrots

blues

let's do thislots of rules

carrot

the stars beneath her feet

I am