We have all been subject to a Hollywood Horror at one point or another. It is inevitable. For some people, it is the stuff of life, rather, the stuff of how they wish their lives to be. Yes, I'm not talking about a Horror in the traditional sense, I'm talking about the shitty romances that Hollywood pumps out like the dollar hot from the press. A Horror to anyone with taste, or to anyone who happened to be coherent when viewing it.
I can't believe people actually fall for this cookie-cutter crap. The girl is a spontaneous, energetic, hottie with a deep side. She wears wool and lingerie and jeans at the same time. The boy is a wealthy Italian number who is shut down inside. Boy meets girl. She changes him from the inside out, after having really meaningful sex with him. Now he is a happy, creative person with a desire to make the world a better place. He finds out she has an incurable disease. All of a sudden her face doesn't look so hot, yet she still wears skimpy clothing on her flawless and not to mention waxed, bronzed, and buffed body. He gets pissed off in his new-found passion for life. He 'saves' her by loving her anyways and they have more sex, but after he adopts a dog and quits his job to do pro-bono work to promote fair-trade coffee or some other kind of hippie saturated nonsense.
I wish I was making all that up.
After watching something like that, anybody with a brain feels like their creative intelligence just got slapped in the face. They stagger away from the couch in a disgusted daze and pray for that hour and a half of their lives back.
I have no idea how scripts like this make it further than the recycle bin, much less onto a disc...into a case...onto shelves...in stores where people, mostly women who haven't been embittered yet can feed off of it like the one kid at fat camp who stumbled upon the camp leader's Hostess stash.
Please, Hollywood, remember to distinguish between what real Horror and Romance movies are and spare us your stupidity as it seems to be contagious.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Friday, December 10, 2010
The Confusion
Cyndi Lauper had it right. However, she had brighter outlook on these damn circles of confusion. I am sure as hell caught up in them and instead of lamenting on the good times and offering to be there time after time, I just want to shoot something.
Don't you just love to watch confused people? The frustration builds as the answer they so desperately seek alludes them like a bully playing Keep-Away with the nerd's glasses. We all feel badly for the nerd. Waving his arms helplessly in the air, half-heartedly shouting "hey, that's not fair!", never daring to actually throw a punch. Ha! All the semi-normal kids watch in saddened amusement as the nerd sweats and whines and later retires to the corner of the playground to sulk in the injustice of his 9-year-old world. Nobody really worries about him. They all know that he will be able to find his glasses in the girl's toilet after lunch. He knows it too.
When we are faced with the slippery slope of confusion, and the matter is pressing, the flustered phase begins when the answer alludes us past our frustrated limits. Our faces get red. Our body's begin to twitch and squirm (yeah, that is the nervous system attempting manual shutdown due to data processing overload). Of course, the exaggerated sigh is also a necessity like a pressure valve opening after water sublimates. As an outsider, this is really fun to watch because the victim is being tortured from within and they resemble an unfortunate fat man after a rather large dose of pure capsaicin.
Yes, confused to flustered to plain pissed off. The pissed off phase is only fun for a short period of time. It is when the victim gets so far past insanity that they trick themselves into believing they have any power at all in their situation and that to get really pissed off will intimidate the answer obey. This phase separates the idiots from the non-idiots. The idiot victim will linger in this phase forever, letting the anger build and build as the answer smiles and taunts them. Things will not end well for this victim; he will either shoot himself, or dwell in this state until the situation is no longer relevant to his life and he will move on to find something else equally confusing (being the idiot he is) and begin the cycle again.
The non-idiot victim has a chance. He will not let the anger build, but quickly realize that even getting angry in the first place required a certain level of idiocy and this will advance him into the final stage of confusion: the acceptance. Hopefully he will accept his unfortunate situation of suspense and resign the quest for the answer to the heavens, which is the precise moment the answer will come. He will smile at his own brilliance and move on with his life.
Being aware of the acceptance phase, myself, I will of course choose that option, but getting there is another story. I am fighting my way through the flustered phase right now. It will be a long battle, folks, and the desire to shoot something keeps coming up. Time after time.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VdQY7BusJNU
Don't you just love to watch confused people? The frustration builds as the answer they so desperately seek alludes them like a bully playing Keep-Away with the nerd's glasses. We all feel badly for the nerd. Waving his arms helplessly in the air, half-heartedly shouting "hey, that's not fair!", never daring to actually throw a punch. Ha! All the semi-normal kids watch in saddened amusement as the nerd sweats and whines and later retires to the corner of the playground to sulk in the injustice of his 9-year-old world. Nobody really worries about him. They all know that he will be able to find his glasses in the girl's toilet after lunch. He knows it too.
When we are faced with the slippery slope of confusion, and the matter is pressing, the flustered phase begins when the answer alludes us past our frustrated limits. Our faces get red. Our body's begin to twitch and squirm (yeah, that is the nervous system attempting manual shutdown due to data processing overload). Of course, the exaggerated sigh is also a necessity like a pressure valve opening after water sublimates. As an outsider, this is really fun to watch because the victim is being tortured from within and they resemble an unfortunate fat man after a rather large dose of pure capsaicin.
Yes, confused to flustered to plain pissed off. The pissed off phase is only fun for a short period of time. It is when the victim gets so far past insanity that they trick themselves into believing they have any power at all in their situation and that to get really pissed off will intimidate the answer obey. This phase separates the idiots from the non-idiots. The idiot victim will linger in this phase forever, letting the anger build and build as the answer smiles and taunts them. Things will not end well for this victim; he will either shoot himself, or dwell in this state until the situation is no longer relevant to his life and he will move on to find something else equally confusing (being the idiot he is) and begin the cycle again.
The non-idiot victim has a chance. He will not let the anger build, but quickly realize that even getting angry in the first place required a certain level of idiocy and this will advance him into the final stage of confusion: the acceptance. Hopefully he will accept his unfortunate situation of suspense and resign the quest for the answer to the heavens, which is the precise moment the answer will come. He will smile at his own brilliance and move on with his life.
Being aware of the acceptance phase, myself, I will of course choose that option, but getting there is another story. I am fighting my way through the flustered phase right now. It will be a long battle, folks, and the desire to shoot something keeps coming up. Time after time.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VdQY7BusJNU
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
The Ootz Update
Well, my poor, neglected readers, I have found the Ootz. Or, rather, it has found me. I have several different Ootz sources that now flow rampant through my life.
First thing is first, the Ootz began with my students. I have had the oppertunity to share an amazing quarter with the wonderful Anatomy/Physiology students and TA's. I have had an absolute blast with them at every point and will miss them dearly now that the quarter is over. Though things started out a little rocky, with lots of eye-rolling, yawning, and frustration, it ended with smiles, hugs, and lots of thanks. I felt so loved at every moment, even when their faces became haggard as the class tried to sqeeze the life out of them. Trust me, I felt their pain. As a veteran/survivor of the class, I was able to hopefully make their lives a little better by my general spastic and happy outlook that I shared with them. From the student body, I have made many friends. I feel like I am constantly surrounded by friendly faces and acceptance. For those of you that remember, this is a slightly different report than last year at this time.
In addition, another specific Ootz source has presented itself. Though we remain friends, I am very happy just the same. Perhaps the situation will morph into something else, but I am leaving that up to God. Though this does mean that I am in hell until then because the Ootz can be dangerous in high doses. As I sit here, watching Mama Mia, the only line that I can take away to sum up this Ootz is..
Honey, honey, how he thrills me. Uh-huh.
God, that feels stupid to say. It sounds better in song, glitter and perhaps large amounts of special brownies.
More later...
First thing is first, the Ootz began with my students. I have had the oppertunity to share an amazing quarter with the wonderful Anatomy/Physiology students and TA's. I have had an absolute blast with them at every point and will miss them dearly now that the quarter is over. Though things started out a little rocky, with lots of eye-rolling, yawning, and frustration, it ended with smiles, hugs, and lots of thanks. I felt so loved at every moment, even when their faces became haggard as the class tried to sqeeze the life out of them. Trust me, I felt their pain. As a veteran/survivor of the class, I was able to hopefully make their lives a little better by my general spastic and happy outlook that I shared with them. From the student body, I have made many friends. I feel like I am constantly surrounded by friendly faces and acceptance. For those of you that remember, this is a slightly different report than last year at this time.
In addition, another specific Ootz source has presented itself. Though we remain friends, I am very happy just the same. Perhaps the situation will morph into something else, but I am leaving that up to God. Though this does mean that I am in hell until then because the Ootz can be dangerous in high doses. As I sit here, watching Mama Mia, the only line that I can take away to sum up this Ootz is..
Honey, honey, how he thrills me. Uh-huh.
God, that feels stupid to say. It sounds better in song, glitter and perhaps large amounts of special brownies.
More later...
Saturday, November 13, 2010
The Sundae
Despite my original faithfulness to this insignificant blog, I have ruthlessly abandoned it this past month in favor of just about any other activity. However, I have returned in attempt to salvage my reputation as an excellent blogger.
My quest for the Ootz continues, however, my hope is not dwindling, rather, growing stronger and more assured that the Ootz giver is heading my way. This is aided significantly by the complete turn around my college experience has undergone. Last year, I was completely miserable and alone; I had hardly any social contact or support. I hated every day because I felt like there was no hope of life getting any better and that my solitude was immutable. I hit rock bottom this summer and since then, I have been faithful to the saying "Once you've hit bottom, the only place you can go is up..." or something to that effect.
In a short period of time I have been thrust into multiple new families of people and from them I have molded my own family unit. Now my life is not unlike a delicious ice cream sundae! The critical and fudgy bottom layer represents my TA family. I love each and every one of them and I feel a sense of camaraderie wherever I go knowing that we have a special connection oozing with nerdiness (as good fudge should). The next layer is the smooth ice cream layer which represents my students. I could not enjoy them more and my Sundae would not be a Sundae without them. The next layer is the fudge drizzle, representing all the potential Ootz sources which include, but are not limited to, parties, men, musical instruments, and my increasingly creative/delicious cooking. Now, a Sundae is not a good Sundae if it isn't sprinkled with a healthy serving of nuts. I have several of them in my life, and without their nuttiness, my Sundae would be dismal. You know who you are.Well, that just about wraps up my Sundae metaphor. I am metaphor-ed out. You may ask, however, why I have omitted the crucial whipped cream layer...well, refer to the previous sentence.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
The Dark
You know, I pride myself on being a brave woman. Truly. I fantasize about being in dangerous situations and taking the bullet for a family member or kicking the living shit out of some bad guy with my bare hands or, even better, a baseball bat. However, when I am by myself, in the dark, outside, every single horror movie I have seen comes roaring to life in my memory and a little voice inside my head says "Don't look behind you, you skinny, defenseless, little woman." And I reply, out loud, "No shit! I'm getting the hell outta here!". That is about when I break into a run that would put Jesse James to shame, reach my destination, slam the door behind me, and continue on with my life like nothing happened.
The fight or flight experience is truly marvelous. Every trivial care, like tripping on unseen obstacles or dead bodies, stepping on a slug, or running into the actual monster is no longer an issue. The only issue is reaching safety. I swear it is the anticipation of something to fear that is the worst. Once you are truly wigged out, it doesn't matter what is coming after you, or if there is anything at all. The hormones are now like beer on tap, flooding a biker bar right along with the leather and ass-less chaps.
Now, when I am with a friend, I instantly turn on my "protection" mode. Nothing can touch us. I will protect us. You want to take a walk in the dark in a sketchy neighborhood? Sure! You want to walk deep in the woods without flashlights wearing meat helmets? Hell yeah! We have nothing to worry about. Whatever we come across, I can handle. Somehow, I know that when the shit hits the fan, I will be able to protect my friend. I have that instinct. Perhaps destiny. However, if I was placed in that same situation...alone, I would have soiled myself yesterday.
Perhaps one day I will get my chance to kick the ass of the cougar attacking my friend, wrestling with it for awhile, and finally stabbing it in the eye with a stick. My friend would be minorly injured and my fierce bravery would be known to all woodland creatures for generations to come. And then the next day, walking alone, I would get attacked by some punk raccoon and my dead body would be found three weeks later, half eaten by rodents and a random snail population.
In all seriousness, the death of Dwight Clark has struck a tone of fear into my adrenal glands. I want a knife for my birthday for my protection. If you happen to come upon me in the night, alone, I will scream and run like hell. If you make the stupid decision to approach me when I'm walking with my friends, I will turn and stab you in the neck. Ye be warned.
The fight or flight experience is truly marvelous. Every trivial care, like tripping on unseen obstacles or dead bodies, stepping on a slug, or running into the actual monster is no longer an issue. The only issue is reaching safety. I swear it is the anticipation of something to fear that is the worst. Once you are truly wigged out, it doesn't matter what is coming after you, or if there is anything at all. The hormones are now like beer on tap, flooding a biker bar right along with the leather and ass-less chaps.
Now, when I am with a friend, I instantly turn on my "protection" mode. Nothing can touch us. I will protect us. You want to take a walk in the dark in a sketchy neighborhood? Sure! You want to walk deep in the woods without flashlights wearing meat helmets? Hell yeah! We have nothing to worry about. Whatever we come across, I can handle. Somehow, I know that when the shit hits the fan, I will be able to protect my friend. I have that instinct. Perhaps destiny. However, if I was placed in that same situation...alone, I would have soiled myself yesterday.
Perhaps one day I will get my chance to kick the ass of the cougar attacking my friend, wrestling with it for awhile, and finally stabbing it in the eye with a stick. My friend would be minorly injured and my fierce bravery would be known to all woodland creatures for generations to come. And then the next day, walking alone, I would get attacked by some punk raccoon and my dead body would be found three weeks later, half eaten by rodents and a random snail population.
In all seriousness, the death of Dwight Clark has struck a tone of fear into my adrenal glands. I want a knife for my birthday for my protection. If you happen to come upon me in the night, alone, I will scream and run like hell. If you make the stupid decision to approach me when I'm walking with my friends, I will turn and stab you in the neck. Ye be warned.
Friday, October 8, 2010
The Intimidation
There aren't many things that I have difficulty wrapping my head around, but when it comes to myself, I am stumped. Well, at least when it comes to how people react to me. I am nothing special. I don't have long legs, silky hair, or piercing eyes. I'm not tall and skinny, with a leather jacket, whip, and boots up to my thighs. Also, I am not some sort of haggard, wide-set, 6', snaggle-toothed broad in army pants. I am merely a 5'4'', athletic, redhead girl. I wear jeans, t-shirts, sweatshirts, and sneakers. I just don't understand why so many people are so intimidated by me. Well, I don't understand why men are intimidated by me.
Between the ages of 17 and 19, something happened to me. I used to get the "You are so beautiful" compliment, but not anymore. Nowadays, all I hear is "You are really intimidating, you know that?". What the hell?
I used to get asked out every quarter, hands down. Perhaps Green River boys had more guts then these Western boys. Or perhaps I have had "F*** Off" stamped on my forehead since I stepped foot on this desolate campus. Well, I don't know either way.
It is not that I need guys to ask me out to feel good about myself. I know I am beautiful and I know that I am one hell of a cool chick when you get to know me. I like motorcycles, rough-housing (in the literal sense, that isn't code for sex), cooking amazing meals, spicy foods, and action flicks; I don't like shopping for myself, taking forever to get ready for events, or glitter. I don't need a boyfriend either. I am a strong and extremely independent woman and have been for a long time. However, it would be nice if the seat beside me on the bus wasn't the last one to fill every single time. Seriously, only women in their 50's sit beside me.
Western boys need to grow a pair and sit down in that damn seat!
A couple years ago, all my friends were men. Now, they run away like I'm holding a nut-cracker in one hand and their sense of control in the other. I would hate to think that men stay away because they instantly sense that there is absolutely no way to seduce me, fool me, romance me, outsmart me, or avoid a severe lashing if they piss me off. However, that is only for stupid, idiot, douche-bags with nothing out of the ordinary going on. It just so happens that there are a lot of them out there. If somebody with a little courage and extraordinary temperament (as in, interested in something other than sex and sex-related items) were to come along, they would have little to fear. I am a very warm person after you've earned my trust.
Strength, intelligence, and independence should be attractive qualities in a friend of either sex. Western boys, and men everywhere, need to recognize that and stop chasing the primped, flouncy, pushed-up, and painted tail that swarms the campus. So there.
Between the ages of 17 and 19, something happened to me. I used to get the "You are so beautiful" compliment, but not anymore. Nowadays, all I hear is "You are really intimidating, you know that?". What the hell?
I used to get asked out every quarter, hands down. Perhaps Green River boys had more guts then these Western boys. Or perhaps I have had "F*** Off" stamped on my forehead since I stepped foot on this desolate campus. Well, I don't know either way.
It is not that I need guys to ask me out to feel good about myself. I know I am beautiful and I know that I am one hell of a cool chick when you get to know me. I like motorcycles, rough-housing (in the literal sense, that isn't code for sex), cooking amazing meals, spicy foods, and action flicks; I don't like shopping for myself, taking forever to get ready for events, or glitter. I don't need a boyfriend either. I am a strong and extremely independent woman and have been for a long time. However, it would be nice if the seat beside me on the bus wasn't the last one to fill every single time. Seriously, only women in their 50's sit beside me.
Western boys need to grow a pair and sit down in that damn seat!
A couple years ago, all my friends were men. Now, they run away like I'm holding a nut-cracker in one hand and their sense of control in the other. I would hate to think that men stay away because they instantly sense that there is absolutely no way to seduce me, fool me, romance me, outsmart me, or avoid a severe lashing if they piss me off. However, that is only for stupid, idiot, douche-bags with nothing out of the ordinary going on. It just so happens that there are a lot of them out there. If somebody with a little courage and extraordinary temperament (as in, interested in something other than sex and sex-related items) were to come along, they would have little to fear. I am a very warm person after you've earned my trust.
Strength, intelligence, and independence should be attractive qualities in a friend of either sex. Western boys, and men everywhere, need to recognize that and stop chasing the primped, flouncy, pushed-up, and painted tail that swarms the campus. So there.
Monday, October 4, 2010
The Christian
Living in my little liberal college town, it is very amazing to me how far these masses of people have pushed God from their thoughts. It seems to me that God is just an idea, or perhaps a nagging afterthought that haunts the periphery of their minds, popping up in moments of reflection, but quickly pushed away. Though that ever present decision to maintain a weary yet persistent distance from a creator so alive and present makes me sad, I am aware that these choices are not mine to make for them. I do not judge. They have done their research and I have done mine. We came out with different answers and stuck to them.
I have realized that there is undeserved hostility and distinction placed by and between the "Christian" and the "Non-christian". Christians smother themselves in their people and perhaps avoid friendships with "others", while the Non-christian is instantly put off when they figure out just what that kid does on Sunday mornings. I hate this. To throw eloquent articulation out of the window: it is STUPID!!! Though the Christian needs and should seek fellow Christians for support and kinship in faith, it is not just the Christians that need their own help and friendship. Is it not the sinners whom Jesus called upon to be his disciples? It is OK to be friends with an atheist or a gay guy. It is not OK to forego your faith to better fit their description of a perfect friend, however. It is OK to share your faith with your Non-christian friends, like you would share anything else about yourself. Share Jesus because you love Him, not because they don't. It is not OK to push your faith upon people unwilling to hear it and make a big deal about it. If they want to hear it, then share it. End of story.
For the Non-Christian, it is OK to share your reasons for rejecting a relationship with God. It is not OK jump to the "Oh, you're religious" statement, let your face fall, and assume that the person standing in front of you has nothing to offer in your world. Enough with the "Religious" stereotype crap. Don't use the word until you understand what it means and where it should be applied. Purely religious people go to church because they feel they have to, they read and pray every night, perform ceremonies and traditions, and follow a set of guidelines they feel are necessary because they feel they have to. A true Christian may act like a "religious"person, but they feel quite differently about it. It is about a relationship!!! A relationship with the Father, Son, and Spirit. We do the things we do because we love God and feel His love for us, not because we feel we are obligated, or will burn in hell if we don't. Now, I understand that the Christian does not always act like the perfect little Christian that comes to mind, but what must be understood by the Non-christian is that the Christian is human. The Christian makes mistakes and is struggling with everything the Non-christian is struggling with, in addition to maintaining the extremely beautiful, powerful, yet difficult thing called Faith.
I will talk about faith in further detail later on, but until then, just realize that it is a much more complicated and alive entity than it seems from the surface.
I have failed often to keep God in my thoughts. I remember Him everyday, but not in everything I do. Though I have, by no means, lost my faith through my college years, like so many young Christians before me, I have failed to be more open about that part of my life. I am a very private person, and I believe my relationship with God to be private, but I know better. My pride forbids me to speak up lest I say something incorrect and lead somebody in the wrong direction, but I need to knock it off. I can't be perfect, but I can fight for perfection in making mistakes and correcting them. I will continue to talk about my faith on this blog, among many other, completely non-related subjects, and hopefully people (including myself) can learn a thing or two about what I (a Christian) and Non-christians are faced with every day.
I have realized that there is undeserved hostility and distinction placed by and between the "Christian" and the "Non-christian". Christians smother themselves in their people and perhaps avoid friendships with "others", while the Non-christian is instantly put off when they figure out just what that kid does on Sunday mornings. I hate this. To throw eloquent articulation out of the window: it is STUPID!!! Though the Christian needs and should seek fellow Christians for support and kinship in faith, it is not just the Christians that need their own help and friendship. Is it not the sinners whom Jesus called upon to be his disciples? It is OK to be friends with an atheist or a gay guy. It is not OK to forego your faith to better fit their description of a perfect friend, however. It is OK to share your faith with your Non-christian friends, like you would share anything else about yourself. Share Jesus because you love Him, not because they don't. It is not OK to push your faith upon people unwilling to hear it and make a big deal about it. If they want to hear it, then share it. End of story.
For the Non-Christian, it is OK to share your reasons for rejecting a relationship with God. It is not OK jump to the "Oh, you're religious" statement, let your face fall, and assume that the person standing in front of you has nothing to offer in your world. Enough with the "Religious" stereotype crap. Don't use the word until you understand what it means and where it should be applied. Purely religious people go to church because they feel they have to, they read and pray every night, perform ceremonies and traditions, and follow a set of guidelines they feel are necessary because they feel they have to. A true Christian may act like a "religious"person, but they feel quite differently about it. It is about a relationship!!! A relationship with the Father, Son, and Spirit. We do the things we do because we love God and feel His love for us, not because we feel we are obligated, or will burn in hell if we don't. Now, I understand that the Christian does not always act like the perfect little Christian that comes to mind, but what must be understood by the Non-christian is that the Christian is human. The Christian makes mistakes and is struggling with everything the Non-christian is struggling with, in addition to maintaining the extremely beautiful, powerful, yet difficult thing called Faith.
I will talk about faith in further detail later on, but until then, just realize that it is a much more complicated and alive entity than it seems from the surface.
I have failed often to keep God in my thoughts. I remember Him everyday, but not in everything I do. Though I have, by no means, lost my faith through my college years, like so many young Christians before me, I have failed to be more open about that part of my life. I am a very private person, and I believe my relationship with God to be private, but I know better. My pride forbids me to speak up lest I say something incorrect and lead somebody in the wrong direction, but I need to knock it off. I can't be perfect, but I can fight for perfection in making mistakes and correcting them. I will continue to talk about my faith on this blog, among many other, completely non-related subjects, and hopefully people (including myself) can learn a thing or two about what I (a Christian) and Non-christians are faced with every day.
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