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rant rant rant stop calling my minor easy
Monday. 4.16.12 10:41 am

Exams are this week and next. They aren't hard, and I say this in relativity to all other undergrad semesters. My Spanish instructor has been urging me to be a Spanish minor. I am, I am, geez.

I hate how society feels about Spanish. I hate that most intellectuals I know consider it to be too common to be difficult or interesting. The Spanish culture is so RICH, and so interesting, and so full of wonderful literary works that are best read in their native form.

Our best Spanish instructor came and listened to my presentation on a famous Hispanic celebrity (talk about pressure), the other week. I'd chosen to present on Pablo Neruda, who was a wonderful Chilean poet (he died in 1973). He was quite involved with politics, as well, but that's another story. The instructor waited for me to finish and asked if I had a favorite poem by him. Most others that presented didn't actually enjoy their celebrities' works, but I immediately blurted out, "Ah, Vastedad de los Pinos."

She found that interesting, for some reason. All his poems are sensual, so I don't feel like it gave any indication that another of his poems wouldn't have. Maybe she didn't recognize the name and just acted interested to react somehow.

Either way, my point is that she said something that hit the nail on the head for about ninety-eight percent of all Hispanic authors/poets; she said, basically (and I say basically because I'm saying it in English, which she did not), that his poems are beautiful in English...but they're devastatingly beautiful in Spanish.

I get learning Latin for medical school. I totally get it. But Latin, just a PS, IS A DEAD LANGUAGE. It's the antisocial way to get a leg up. You want to be able to help the greatest number of people in the United States that you can? Learn to speak Spanish. If it's really that easy, it shouldn't be inconvenient to plop it on top of studying Latin.


Hmph.

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Thursday. 4.12.12 1:49 am







Oof.

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HIDE YO KIDS, HIDE YO WIFE
Tuesday. 4.3.12 1:45 am

I GOT OFF-CAMPUS HOUSING.



The first things will obviously be a bed, a mattress, some sheets, a desk, and a wardrobe. After that, hopefully I can work my way into affording a rabbit and two finches. Rabbits aren't too costly, once you pay for their initial housing; they need pellets, hay, veggies, fruits, and something in the litterbox. Apparently, the most costly part is going to be buying the bunny toys.

...So bunnies are weird.

But, I feel kind of akin to them, since I'm big on veggies with a tasty little fruit snack, and I get bored if I don't have something to fiddle with. Apparently, bunnies also like slinkies.

That makes two of us.

(Side note: If anyone gets me a slinky for my birthday, I AM THROWING IT AWAY. I like playing with slinkies, but let me be clear, I DO NOT LIKE OWNING THEM.)

Anyway, the finches are sort of more of a comfort thing. I love the sound of birds chirping, when I wake up, and finches can be so sweet and tender with humans. And let's not even get into how AWESOME it is that birds are technically dinosaurs.

I have a nice window, in the corner of my room, so I'll probably hang the cage of finches there and have the bunny nearby.

Let's stop for a moment and reflect on how amazing my living situation is about to be. Obviously I can't SEE THE EIFFEL TOWER FROM IT (ahem), but it's okay for a twenty-year-old undergrad.

Life's going pretty well. I'm kind of overwhelmed, right now, because I have so much to do before school gets out...and then it only gets crazier. The moment I stop doing exam-y things, I'm moving into the new place, and then I'm off to Florida for a couple days to volunteer at the Special Olympics with a small group of friends, and then I'm working oh just CONSTANTLY. But it's okay, because I walked out of one of the guest bedrooms at the B&B where I'm a housekeeper, looked over the balcony onto my beautiful, beautiful city, and teared up a little, so I know all this crazy stress is worth it.

Not a lot of my life is within my control. I don't have total financial independence from my parents; and I don't want to be in a relationship, usually, but when I do, it's with someone who also never wants to commit (so despite the chemistry, nothing, which frustrates me on a regular basis, because I don't often want to be in that situation). I'm always feeling pressured by my parents to make decisions that make them happy, too, which honestly has way too much bearing on what I do with my life. I only recently started defying what they wanted on a large scale.

Coming here was the first big choice I made all for myself. And, sure, there have been several other choices, since then, that have held about the same amount of weight, and I won't say that all of them have had pretty results. But, every time I realize that I'm doing what I want to be doing, I get really freaking emotional. Talk about repression, right? They tell me I'm Irish; I believe them.

It's just really great to be here, making choices for myself.


If you got this far through my rambles, you've earned this.


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On oppression and inequality
Tuesday. 3.20.12 8:39 pm

MIDDAYMOON IS LESS THAN A BLOCK AWAY FROM ME. RIGHT NOW. NUTANGERS, UNITE.


I was talking with my...uh...date? Whatever, he and I were talking, when we were on date two, and somehow we got on the topic of surprise pregnancies. NO IDEA WHY. But he essentially said that he would ask that the woman have an abortion, because it would be the most humane thing, for someone college-aged, to do.

--Uh. Excuse me?

Although I am pro-choice (there's no question, as far as I'm concerned, about whether a woman should be able to choose or not, and there's no changing that), I'm also the type of woman who would choose NOT to abort, barring extreme circumstances. This is because 1) childbearing, after an abortion, can be more risky (studies have shown SOME correlation between miscarriages and previous abortions, and a good amount of correlation between abortions and premature birth), and 2) the emotional effects that an experience like that can have on a woman are devastating.

I wouldn't want to expose myself to something so potentially harmful, not only to my body, but to my mind and my future children.

So...excuse me? More humane? Or were you thinking about yourself, and how you could escape without any sort of repercussions, other than a bill for the abortion?

I just...I don't understand. Sure, it's an easy out...for everyone. For the girl, the guy, their parents, and sometimes society, sure, yeah, fine, it might benefit the most people, in the long run.

But you can't go asking someone you knocked up to remove the life that she is growing inside of herself. The reason "motherly love" is so renowned is that mothers are deeply connected to their children, because, for a while, they're two parts of a whole. What the mother eats, the child eats. As long as she's alive, the child is developing and becoming alive. I had a teacher tell the class, once, that fetuses are sort of like parasites that you want and feel connected to through their dependence. Motherhood is something instantaneous and innate, for most women. We feel it because the child is right with us. Men, sometimes, don't feel it until they can feel a kick, or see the kid.

I hate it for them, and it isn't their faults, but men just don't understand that feeling, usually. Not the way women do.


Reading all the propositions on birth control and abortion laws, today, made me really nervous. I have to wonder what difference it will make when the male contraceptive pill comes to fruition. It sounds, to me, like the country is moving backwards into oppression aimed towards females and the sexual revolution of the 60s.

Well, frankly, that sucks. I'm a female, AND one of my favorite topics to research and understand more thoroughly is sex (it always has been; even as a pre-teen, I couldn't understand why more people weren't intrigued by this vast, unusual, and information-rich topic), so essentially I'm left with nothing. Moreover, society is left with a lot less; if we turn ourselves into some repressed, male-serving society, about half of its citizens are going to feel EXTREMELY unsafe--and rightfully so. From the proposed laws (like this one, which is a bit of a graphic idea) I'm seeing pop up in news stories, it's becoming more and more obvious that female safety and well-being are at risk.

Which is why I changed my promise to myself for Lent to two things: 1) Be more supportive of my friends (because, to be honest, I can be a passive-aggressive bitch, at times (stop nodding)), and 2) Stop perpetuating traditional female submission. If men approach me in stores to comment on my looks, I'm not going to be terribly kind about it, anymore. There is exactly one person who is allowed to tell me I have a nice body, AND I GUARANTEE IT ISN'T SOME RANDO IN WALMART.

UNLESS HE HAPPENS TO NEED SOMETHING FROM WALMART.

Anyway I got back from a night on the town with my dear pal midday. I ATE A LOT OF CAKE. A LOT. I can feel it trying to fight its way back up my throat, BUT GUESS WHAT CAKE, YOU'RE STAYING PUT.

Serious post goes down the drain, okay, before I spoil it more--

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