This morning, I completed my final for Modern Grammar. I only vaguely understood a number of the questions, so my guess is that my grade on this will be something of a... low. Which is okay with me. Any grade that is a passing grade will satisfy me perfectly, in this class. My teacher, a very sweaty, very Italian man (but also extremely lovable!) rarely spoke comprehendably about anything except his love for The Golden Girls. My grasp on Chomskian sentence diagramming suffered accordingly. But then, to be fair, I doubt I would have ever really caught on to anything that Chomsky had to say about syntax, anyway. We were once guest-lectured by a professor who referred to subjects as things like "actors" and direct objects as "recipients", and I found this approach, with its room for creativity, to be much more up my alley. So, fuck you, Chomsky. I never liked your theories about Subject Verb Object, anyway. I will be happy if I make a D in this class.
And now, I am listening to the soundtrack to Into the Wild. Prior to hearing this record, I never knew that Eddie Vedder could be so... delicious. But he is.
And so, until MyLeo is up and I can investigate the terms and conditions for my final midterm (It's online! Squeal!), I'm just going to sit here, listening to Eddie Vedder singing (deliciously) about the joys and sorrows of the nomadic lifestyle, and possibly reading Wicked. I started it a few days ago, after hearing from a few people that it was way, way more colorful than the play, and had morally disturbed them a little. I have yet to be disturbed, but I'm only about 50 pages in. There's still hope.
On Almost Being Done With Finals, and Loving Eddie Vedder (Sort of).
Author: Notoriously, Mandy. /
Q&A With Mandy: Second Edition.
Author: Notoriously, Mandy. /Are your nails painted?
My toenails are, but I never do my fingernails. It's too much maintenance.
Are your dreams strange?
My dreams are ALWAYS strange. I actually keep a dream journal.
Do you have to check in with your parents before you go someplace?
At the tender age of 23... I don't think so.
Do you know anyone who doesn’t smoke pot?
Not everybody can be down.
Did your ex say anything that you still think of?
Yes.
Have you ever done something you promised yourself you wouldn't?
Sometimes for better, and sometimes for worse.
Do you miss anyone right now?
A lot of people.
Are you a shy person?
Hell, no.
Do you have memories that you want to forget?
That's up in the air. Probably not, though. My experiences have, like, shaped me and junk.
Would you rather love one person or have many short relationships?
It depends on whether that love-relationship is healthy - if yes, than I would choose that, but, if not, I would rather enjoy the company of several people I'm not overly-attached to than pine over someone I can't or shouldn't be with.
Do you have a best friend of the opposite sex you can tell everything to?
Actually, no. Most of my friends are women - and I'm definitely okay with that.
What is more important in a relationship, happiness or trust?
I've trusted people I was completely unhappy with, and I think I would rather choose happiness. Adventure is more important to me than stability.
Wanna talk to someone you havent talked to in a while? Why?
Yes; won't say.
Do you have more than five songs that remind you of just one person?
Yes again.
Do you still have any attachments with an ex?
Several of them, actually.
When was the last time you wanted to punch someone in their face?
This guy on my Facebook posted some status about how many women it takes to screw in a lightbulb... I don't remember the answer, but it was some kind of stereotypical, ignorant portrayal of feminists as man-haters who are in denial of the fact that women can't survive without men... I deleted him. It wasn't quite a punch, but it helped.
What did you wake up to today?
I think I just kind of woke up on my own - I was thirsty and my spine hurt.
Have you ever laid on a bed and stayed there for no reason at all?
There's always a reason for that - I refer to it as "laziness".
Do you think someone is talking smack about you behind your back?
It's the status quo.
Does anyone not like you at the moment?
See above.
Has anyone put their arms around you in the past 5 days?
Lots of people.
Do you hate being home alone?
I used to, but now, I really like it. A little solitutde, in which I can read a book, take a bath (and a xanax), listen to music, do some homework... mmm.
Are you under the influence of anything at the moment?
Birth control... it's a very good influence.
Do you sleep with the door open or closed?
I don't have a door, but I rarel close the curtain all the way. I'm not a fan of pitch black.
Could you go out in public looking like you do now?
Swim team t-shirt, VS flannel pants, moccassins... why not?
Do you think relationships are even worth it?
Even relationships that end poorly can be good experiences, in the long run, but that's not to say that everybody is made out for relationships.
Do you like horror or comedy?
Horror FTW!
Have you ever been called heartless?
Not in recollection, but I have been called a lot of other synonyms for that. "Piece of work" is my personal favorite.
Has anyone laid on your bed besides you?
Just look at me. I am SO celibate. Duh.
Do you like to color?
I suck at coloring inside the lines.
Have you ever slept on the floor with someone you liked?
More like passed out
What is your current annoyance?
TAMU-C, per usual.
Are you a risk taker?
Without risk-taking behavior, how can anyone LIVE?!
Have you ever worn the opposite sex clothing?
Sure.
Your phone is ringing. Its the person you fell hardest for, what do you say?
Tough call. I really don't know the answer to that.
Do you know anyone that drinks?
I live in an Amish compound, so of course not.
Anyone pissing you off?
You could say that.
Have you ever dyed your hair?
All the times.
Do you understand football?
About as much as I can understand something without giving a damn about it.
Has someone ever told you that they would be with you forever?
Yes, several men.
When was the last time you were sick?
Last night... mmm beer, you have betrayed me again.
What is the worst subject they teach in school?
Home Ec.
Are all of your friends in relationships?
I'd say its about 50/50, but the balance is coming closer to tipping all the time.
Are you looking forward to something as of right now?
Christmas in Galveston, trick!
Have you ever worn false eyelashes?
Love 'em.
At the moment, are you more warm or cold?
Juuust right, which, for me, means warm.
Do you find girls/guys with facial piercings attractive?
Less and less so, as I age.
When was the last time you saw snow?
Last time it snowed, Mom texted me to tell me about it... and I just kept right on sleeping. I hate snow.
How long is your hair?
About down to the middle of my back.
Are you wearing make-up?
But of course.
Something you hate more than anything?
Sexism; ignorance.
Are you wearing anything?
I feel like I answered this question somewhere up there...
Wanting to tell someone something?
Oh, yeah. I'm always full of statements to make.
What do you think about toe socks?
PITA.
If you had to live off one type of fruit, which would you pick?
Tough choice... strawberries?
How long does it take you to get ready?
Depends on what I'm getting ready for. Never more than an hour, but usually closer to 30 or 45 minutes.
Are you the type people should take seriously, or should they think you’re joking?
They should just assume I'm joking. Even if I'm being serious, it's not worth the trouble of them taking me seriously and getting offended.
Do you break things when you are mad?
No; sometime in grade school, I learned to channel my emotions in non-violent ways.
Do you mind sleeping on the floor?
Usually... but sometimes, it happens.
Rousseau and Me.
Author: Notoriously, Mandy. /I've been reading Jean-Jacques Rousseau's Reveries of the Solitary Walker for a paper that's due later this week. Now, let me be clear about this: I am a 50/50 Rousseau fan. I agree with him, philosophically, on many levels (Deism, for example, and the all anti-church-and-state bits), but his sexism pretty much prevents me from totally joining the cult of the Enlightenment.
Anyway, I was reading along, minding my own business, when I came upon this passage:
"...having resolved myself to reconstitute a herbarium more complete than my previous one, until such time as I can collect all the plants of the seashore and the Apls, and the flowerings of all the trees of the Indies, I am making a modest beginning with chickweed, chervil, borage and groudsel I botnize learnedly at my birdcage, and every new blade of grass that I spot makes me say to myself with satisfaction: 'There's one more plant anyhow.'"
Basically, once-upon-a-time, Rousseau had quite the collection of plants, but, for some reason, they were now all gone (In case you didn't know, a lot of the Enlightenment thinkers also dabbled in science, as well as philosophy.). Now, seeking to rebuild t, he had to start from the ground up. Rather than adopting a "this will take foreeever" mentality, he began, cheerily, right at the beginning.
Sometimes, I feel like I'm in Rousseau's position. I want to collect all the flowerings of all the trees of the Indies, but, right now, I'm just muddling through my BA at Texas A&M. And that's frustrating. But, someday, I'll get there. I just need to keep collecting blades of grass... and start turning in homework assignments on time. Sigh.
Diablo, Feminism, Dreams and My Questionable Mental State.
Author: Notoriously, Mandy. /Since it's been getting cold, and Abby's never around to shoo him away, I've been letting Diablo sleep inside. He's kind of dirty and smells bad, but I've let Pooky sleep in my room before, too. Besides, he's good company.
I've been dabbling in feminist lit, as usual - The Purity Myth, Yes Means Yes, and - admittedly more fun than those - The Handmaid's Tale (again), which means that guys at bars are getting lots of drunken dissertations from me about the wage gap, abstinence-only education and enthusiastic consent. I have to give it to anyone who can sit through one of these - that kind of dedication is reserved only for men who really, really think I'm the most attractive girl in the establishment. Or guys who actually care about feminism... and I'm batting for the first. Just sayin'. Diablo, on the other hand, will sit on my feet for hours on end while I read, fold pages, underline, and journal.
On top of the other excessive writing I've been indulging in lately, I've also started keeping a dream journal. I thought, at first, about making a dream blog, but I would probably end up omitting some information in the name of my reputation of a person who has retained some sanity. I've been having some pretty vivid dreams, lately, probably as a result of my overtaxed mind, which has nothing to do but run circles around itself. Maybe the next time I have a PG-13 dream that doesn't make me appear to be a total lunatic (this definitely excludes the epic quest dream I had the other night about a nuclear laser attack), I'll share it on the blog.
New Adventures, or Lack Thereof.
Author: Notoriously, Mandy. /I've kind of enjoyed unemployment, which is not to say that I'm not looking for a new job. But having some time for homework, leisure reading, and drinking on weeknights (not that I didn't do all those things while I had a job - but now I'm fitting them in more neatly) has not been such a bad thing. I feel like I've actually had time to attend to my classes, which is good, because I haven't been doing as well this semester as I did in the spring. I'm actually playing catch-up in my Enlightenment class, which is something I've never done before - and I really like this class, but it just kind of fell by the wayside during the course of everything else that was going on. Grr. I hate feeling like I'm not in control of my academic success.
Other than in terms of morale, though, I don't feel like I've been hit all that hard by joblessness, yet. Actually, I found a pair of VS Pink pants at My Sister's Closet yesterday for $3! If I continue to bargain shop at this rate, I can maintain my unemployed state for YEARS, provided I don't drive anywhere or buy any of my own food. What's for dinner, Mom and Dad?
Ode to My Eyebrow
Author: Notoriously, Mandy. /At the same time, in the world of academia, I had learned that a girl could have conjoined brows without being forced into solitary confinement by the rest of society. My revered exhibitor of this revolutionary notion was Frida Kahlo, whose eyebrow was a trademark aspect of her beauty and individuality. I decided that I was in a unique position to channel her free spirit by mimicking her iconic unspoiled brow - after all, what man had the right to tell me how to groom my facial hair? And so, it came to pass that I divorced my tweezers with my husband.
When I announced my intention to retaliate against fashion, I was warned by some: it might be hard to find a job, a boyfriend, or to talk my way out of speeding tickets. It was unsightly; I looked unkempt. What was I now, a lesbian? It was natural for me to want to poetically retaliate against my controlling ex-husband, but, come on! This was the real world, and a woman had to look good to get ahead, whether I liked it or not! Oh, well. My tweezers slowly worked their way to the bottom of my makeup bag, and my eyebrows regrew to their virgin state.
In my opinion, my eyebrow and I never made much of a threesome, but the two of us make a great team. I suppose it's possible that a few men have been turned off by the hairs between my eyes, but, regardless, I'm still pretty sure that Frida Kahlo had the right idea. Now, if only I could grow a mustache.
You'll Have to Ask Pickles.
Author: Notoriously, Mandy. /Today, I had a lot of things to say about how I lost my job, and, thusly, about attourneys, about the EEOC, and, basically, a lot of miscellaneous bitchings. I thought about putting these things in my blog. But, instead, I told them to Pickles.
There's a big, big story here. And it's full of the elements of my favorite kinds of stories: feminist issues. But I've decided not to spill on my blog about it. At least, not yet. Not until I've figured a few things out.