Cone Kitty

My roses are opening very nicely. I'm going to take them home tomorrow so I can enjoy them over the weekend.

I made the mistake of looking to see whether or not I can safely take Cassie's cone off early. I can't let her run around freely because I'm worried she'll get stuck somewhere with it (she's already nearly gotten stuck under the bed and actually got stuck on the window ledge). So she's crazy every night and morning when I free her from the closet. Plus she can't groom properly (she tries, but just winds up grooming the cone as if it were her) and I can only do so much. I'd really like to take it off her, at least for a bit. BUT I googled to try and find out if cats actually will try to tear out their stitches, especially this far in the healing process, and I came across the most horrible story that makes me want to run home and make sure she's okay and cuddle her. This family adopted a cat and had her spayed. She tore out her stitches (this seems to be the only real example I've found of a cat tearing them out), so they put her in a cone. I don't really think the cone has anything to do with the rest of it, but the writer mentioned it as if it had something to do with it. One night, their beloved kitty starts crying and meowing like mad. Later the kitten's intestines explode out somehow and the poor thing had to be put to sleep. I know this has to be extremely rare and I know that Cassie's fine, but still. And EWWW...

Beyond the massive wildness and the dealing with the cone, Cassie seems to have adjusted quite well to her changed state. She's actually even friendlier than she was before. We did have another incident with her bed. I made the mistake of giving it back to her and she then had an accident on the floor. So I threw it out. No bed for you!

Four years and counting

Four years. Today is my and SB's four year anniversary. He already sent me lovely roses at work, which seemed to strangely surprise my boss. We have no big plans for tonight, but this weekend, we're going to Gadsby's. They're having carolers during the holiday on Friday and Saturday nights. It shall be tres cute.

It's weird thinking that it's been four years. Not just because it means SB and I have been together FOREVER (Who would have thought that I'd date someone four years and still not be married or engaged or planning to do either in the near future?), but because that semester doesn't seem like that long ago. I was in college, living in Collins with all my friends around me. That was the year that everyone lived in college. We had the Michelles in a room, Emily not too far, Whitney down the hall. I was still friends with Peggy and Clare. This would be the time of year for the Dicken's dinner, although junior year was the year the dinner kept being postponed until it was a weak copy of what it should have been. I was so happy then.

And now it's been four years. Poor SB has seen me go through SO much crap, enough that it really has screwed up my health. I lived in England for a while (I missed that year's Dicken's dinner, but exchanged it for a Christmas dinner in Hall where we all stood on our chairs and sang "Teddy Bears' Picnic"), finished school, graduated, tried to find my identity outside of being a student, moved home, moved away from home, got a job, hated my job, got another job, hated that job, too. And I am slowly learning to be happy anyways, even in circumstances that I hate. It's like we talked about in CSF once or twice (during the "fruit of the Spirit" session), joy is not dependent upon happiness. It's good that I'm learning this, because SB tends to feel that he SHOULD be able to make me happy, no matter what else is going on.

He has been with me through all of that and he is so sweet and tries so hard. And really. What more could you ask?

Poor kitty

Well my little kitty can have kittens no longer. She came through surgery and was up trying to play last night. It is pretty pathetic, though. They're making her wear one of those cones on her head. Not only does she have to wear it, she has to wear it for a whole TEN days. She keeps hitting it on stuff and then it scares her. This morning, I let her out of the closet for a bit. She hit it on my suitcase and then literally hopped across the room. She made it in only a few bounds, too. It would have been impressive/funny if I weren't worried about the state of her stitches. And she walks funny because it's there.

CW and I have been looking for engagement rings. Not because either of us want to get engaged, but because we want the rings.

Beyond turkey

It's funny how even my body doesn't want me to go to work. Yesterday, I had a slight fever and now my stomach's being all funny. Sigh. More reasons to leave. As if I needed any.

The whole time at home was lovely. My parents are entertaining. I read two books and finished a hat, which my mom then took pictures of to show her knitting club. It was rather nice, if I do say so myself. I did a lace pattern at the bottom and the yarn itself was so pretty. And my mom bought be really nice yarn (100% silk) for the next project, which is a shawl. I'm moving on to bigger things! My dad was funny, too. Insisted on buying a really expensive tree because he wanted me to be there to pick it out. See, Thursday we went to our usual tree farm. It's about a 30-minute drive, a place where you can cut the trees yourself, though we don't because they actually ship in the ones we like (Frasier firs). But, SADNESS of SADNESS. The tree place is closing!! Not only will they not be there next year, but they didn't even ship in our trees this year! So they only had little puny ones. It was depressing. So my dad had to work on Friday and I was leaving on Saturday, but we stopped at one nursery before I left and found a big, beautiful tree. The only thing? It was $100 MORE than the ones we got from the old place. A little bigger, a little fresher yes. But $100 more?! My parents were aghast, but I had to leave for DC and my dad wanted me to pick out the tree, so... We now own a hugely expensive tree.

I also got to see my glorious friends from high school and found out a highly entertaining story about one of our classmates (she's apparently pretending she was 'most popular' and a cheerleader when she was in high school, while currently coaching cheerleading and trying to get underage boys to let her wear their jerseys).

The only-not-so-fun thing was coming back to a crazy Cassie who may be going into heat and who is supposed to get spayed on Wednesday...

Happy Thanksgiving

The one bad thing about owning a cat is that now I'm conflicted about going home. See, I love being home. My parents are entertaining, the house is so soothing it's practically a vacation home, there are no street noises, no outside lights. Only peace and a lake and trees. But now, I miss Cassie. She's just so cute and adorable and I hate having to leave her by herself. I am going to be the most protective parent ever. And the night before I left, she slept all curled up in my arm. And then she got all frantic when I was leaving, like she knew I was going to be gone for a while.

My parents' cats, though? OMG, I think Felix is the biggest cat I have ever seen. He is HUGE! Which he was last time I was home. He weighed 21 pounds in June and he has gained weight. So he's long, muscular, and has a big belly. I keep making fun of him. Because, let's face it, a cat waddling is just entertaining. Particularly a waddling cat who keeps trying to run or jump.

SB is visiting Catholic couple who is, unsurpisingly but unwisely, now pregnant. I seriously question the wisdom of this, but I guess when you don't believe in birth control... See, the problem is Catholic husband is a vet who recently quit his practice to start his own. So he is currently out of work and trying ot start a business. She's a school teacher, so she'll at least have good health insurance, but not a large salary. It's just not a situation I'd like to be in.

Anyways, I'm off to finish my hat. I have to finish it so I can start on my new project that my mom bought me to day! Yay for knitting!!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

So I've about had it with this community's/city's/country's obsession with size. I've read a few too many blogger entries with lines such as, "ew... she's such a cow," and "what a bloated whale carcus" (last one's word for word). Yet a woman in Brazil DIES from being too skinny, and I don't think anyone would have made fun of the way she looks. In fact, I was frightened by the fact that I didn't think she looked that bad in the pictures I saw of her. Her BMI was 13, she weighed as much as a 12-year-old girl should, but societally? Looked normal. You know what, DC? I would rather be overweight than starving myself to fit your stupid, superficial ideas of what a woman should look like. Grow up and expand your mind like a centimeter...

Dar, How I Love Thee

Last night was the much anticipated, if not really talked about, Dar Williams' concert. Seriously, I love that woman. After the concert, I turned to SB and told him that if I were going to turn gay for any woman, it would be for her. Strangely enough, he was okay with that, as long as it was only with Dar. She did have a cold last night, so her voice was a bit raspy and by the end, you could tell it was shot. She kept coughing and had to pop some cough drops, moving her drug use from backstage to front. At the end, you felt like not applauding insanely just so she wouldn't have to do an encore. She did. Two. And called us pitiless. I was not pitiless, Dar! There was pity! The woman opening for her, Caroline someone, had an amazing voice, too. She kind of enraptured you. Very dark musical choices, but really good. And she just looked so nice. She did give me the skunk eye, as SB would say, while signing my cd's. I'm have mixed emotions about autographs, but opening the one I got for my dad for Christmas to get autographed means I can burn it onto my computer now. Whee! Then last night, I dreamt that I was friends with Dar. It was lovely. So yes, good times were had by all.

I was also greatly entertained by the three flaming gay guys sitting next to me, plus one girl. Though they were all too skinny, particularly the one next to SB, and I just wanted to force them to eat something. Like some bread pudding, which came [gasp] without ice cream or whipped cream. I was disappointed, although the pudding itself was nice. Would be better without the raisins. I am very anti-raisin, particularly in desserts. Let's not pretend they are healthy, people. Embrace the unhealthiness and don't ruin it by adding little chewy things! DOWN WITH RAISINS!!!

Frustration

So some of you may have noticed that I vanished recently. This was for a few reasons. One, last Friday was a holiday. Two, I realized Thursday that my boss would be back on Monday and therefore would expect several things to be done. Most of which she has not asked for, except for the one that I KNOW she thinks should be quick, but actually takes a bit of time, and so was not completely finished when she got back. So yes, Thursday was a little frantic. Three, I have had some kind of bug that has knocked me completely on my ass. Seriously, I spent like 80% of this weekend sleeping AND had to miss a birthday party last night out of sheer exhaustion.

I did read through some of my old writing this weekend. It was highly entertaining. See, I apparently am very good at starting stories. I mean, funny starts, highly entertaining writing style (if I do say so myself). The only thing is that I never get passed the first two or three pages. Mainly because my story ideas are not so much plotlines as character ideas. So I have all these characters that I love, but no idea what to do with them...

Also, my boredom has gotten so bad at work that the thought of banging my head against my desk doesn't sound so bad. I mean, the pain would be a distraction, the noise mildly entertaining. And it might relieve some frustration.

I'm also frustrated with SB for one main reason. He is going out of the country for work for a month or so in January. I'm not thrilled about this, but I do kind of understand. I still wish he would tell them no, because I'm not sure what this will do to our relationship and it'd be nice if he put us first, but I know he hasn't quite figured out how to tell work no, particularly when they really want him to do something. So that irks me, but not really. The real reason I'm upset is that he wants to get back to the States and IMMEDIATELY leave again to go to Florida to see his family. I mean like fly out again two or three days later for a week and a half. I know he loves his family, but still. I did the exact opposite thing when I got home from England because I wanted to spend time with him. I immediately left home to come to Indiana. He's all, "but I want to fly you out for the weekend," but we all know that that's different.

In happier thoughts, it is gingerbread latte season. Sadly, the two I have had so far have been a bit disappointing. I'm hoping it's the coffee shop I got them from and not a sign of my getting tired of gingerbread lattes... Because, seriously people. That would be a real tragedy.

Go vote!

I am highly amused by the fact that everyone in my office who actually has voted (all but two of us) is actually wearing the "I voted!" sticker. I'm wearing mine because I wanted to make sure my boss knew that that was why I was late. Why she's wearing one, I don't know. Maybe she genuinely wants the world to know that she voted.

This is the first mid-term election I've voted in. (Don't yell! It's the first one I've been eligible to, except for the one in 2002 and I wasn't registered then because I was a lazy college student.) It definitely is the first election I've felt like my vote counted. Voting in 2004 in Tennessee was kind of a protest vote. I still did it, but I knew Bush was going to win the state no matter what I did. Funny how I moved from one of the most competitive states now to another. I'm glad. I can't be hitting myself in the head for changing my voter registration from Tennessee to Virginia because either state could be swayed by my vote. I HAVE THE POWER!!!

Testy Goodness

So the test... It's just a load of crap. I mean, honestly, admission people. Do you really think you are learning ANYTHING about me from my scores on this test? Because, really, you're not. Instead, you are learning how good I am at taking tests. And guessing. I guessed a lot. Luckily, most of them were educated guesses. There were definitely some random, "I feel like the answer must be x" guesses, but most I could eliminate at least one or two options. The good thing is, though, I walked out of there thinking that I could not have studied more and done any better than I did. The majority of the questions were based on identification and unless you had read those exact novels by the authors, you probably weren't going to know the right answer for sure. So I did how I did and it's just going to have to be good enough.

It was very sweet, though. SB drove me down to the test on Saturday morning and waited on me while I took it. Which meant that I got that much more time to review what exactly an alexandrine is (a line of iambic hexameter) and who used it the most (Spencer). And it means he had to get up MUCH earlier than he usually does on Saturdays. Afterwards we went to Cracker Barrel, where my beloved apple dumpling was not on the menu... Stupid seasonally switching over to pies. Cracker Barrel, pie does NOT equal dumpling. The dumpling has so much more lovely crust and cinnamon goo and struesel... It's just delicious. And now I have to wait for January. Hmph.

Stupid people...

Well, it is now the 11th hour. Tomorrow is the day, people. Tomorrow I shall attack the test from hell!!! I'm not worried... not worried at all... even though my studying plans totally failed and I'm going to spend a good portion of the night curled up with my Norton and my dictionary of literary terms. It'll be great...

I have decided that living in a big city might have been a bad step. Why? Because I used to be nice. I used to always give people the benefit of the doubt. And now? Now I hate them all. HATE. Woman who shoved her arm into my waist so she could push by me and get to the metro stairs an eighth of a second faster? Hate her. Almost hit her with my paper. Stupid people who won't move on the metro? Hate them. The numerous men who are complete snots and push in front of me constantly? They are horrible and I hope they die a bitter, lonely death. I mean, I'm not saying they have to let me go first. That would be chivalrous, but I understand that the metro is crowded at rush hour and people have places to go. I'm just saying that they should not shove in front of me when it is clearly. my. turn. I do have to say, though, that ethnic men around here are much more likely to be courteous than white guys. Shame on you, white men!

I'm also not so sure anymore that I really want to be a full member of the DC blogging community. I keep trying to find bloggers that I really like and there are only a few. And I read some of the rest, but they are so full of drama and snobbery and hate. It just seems like so many of them are sitting there, thinking they are so cool and judging everyone else. It's just not my bag, baby...

Secretly Crazy

Oi. I may be saying that because Emily used to all the time and she and I joined a bookclub together last night in my dream. Or I could be saying it because I have spent the whole day running around, trying to get things set for the next couple of days for my boss and coworkers. Or I could be saying it because Cassie decided to wake me up at 2:45 crying (I think her stomach hurt. She later used the litterbox and then promptly fell asleep.) and again at 6 (I think she just wanted me to get up and play with her). On top of which, I didn't get to bed until later because SB's friend from home was in town and we wound up chatting at an ice cream place in Old Town until late. But I shall still be good and go to the gym!

SB's friend and I did have an interesting conversation about blogs. He was talking about how he and his friend found the blogs of two of the girls in his small group. He was amused by how the crazy came out in their blogs, as opposed to the calm, collected girls they usually were. I only kind of understand trying to hide the crazy. Like there was that episode of Scrubs where Eliott was trying to pretend she was normal for the guy she was dating. And she almost exploded and then, when she did act like herself, it was a big turn-on for him because she was finally letting him into her. I can honestly say, I never really tried to hide those things from SB. Because let's face it. I can only hide it for so long. If he's going to find out eventually, why not get it over with? It's like my weirdness. The only thing that hides my weirdness is my shyness. It took my former coworkers several months to find out how strange I am. And then they realized and were entertained. I do try not to be TOO weird at work. Which, actually, I kind of miss. There aren't that many people I'm comfortable being truly weird around here. And it's fun. I find myself highly entertaining.

Family friendly

Sigh. This weekend reminded me of many things. The first being that I love my family. You have gone so long without an update from me courtesy of my family reunion. My mom's side of the family (minus our two internationals - my two aunts, one of whom I have never met) all joined up in this huge condo in Myrtle Beach. This place was freaking crazy. We had 11 people there. We had two queen-size beds empty AND two pull-out couches. There was a tv in every room. There was a game room with an arcade style game, where my brother spent hours trying to get the top score on Ms. Pacman. Seriously. He was crazy-good at it. Didn't get it, but still. My mom brought me and my sister-in-law kits to knit baby hats. And no, that was not a clue, though my s.i.l. thought it was at first. There is a knitting campaign because apparently thousands of babies who die every year could be saved if they had a warm hat to wear. Her kit was cute. She had those plastic envelopes and inside was a box with sewing needles (to finish the hats), scissors, and a tape measure. She also had three sizes of knitting needles and printed instructions for three different hats. It was all very organized. And I did teach SB how to knit, so now, as soon as he learns how to purl, he has to knit a baby hat. And my family in general is just hilarious. I about died during our rounds of Catchphrase, mainly because sometimes, people were just SO bad at it.

I also remembered how much I love the ocean. It's so soothing and relaxing. You look at it and it makes you feel small. And it was late enough so there weren't tons of people. I should visit the sea more.

Kids and stuff

You know it's sad when a five-year-old starts hinting that it's time for you to get married. So, this weekend was family overload. My brother, sister-in-law, and s-i-l's family was all in town, as was SB's sister, niece, nephew, and mom. So I got to juggle all of them. Nearly literally in some cases, as his niece is 5 and his nephew is 2 and they decided I was their new toy. They were cute and I didn't mind, but by the end of Saturday, I was so tired I could hardly move. PLUS this weekend was Cassie's vaccination and therefore, I got ot be worried that she was having a reaction while running around town.

SB's mom also bothers me, in that she states things entirely too bluntly. Such as telling me and SB that if we got married, SB's sister would make us the guardians for the kids rather than her and SB's dad. I know that she is where the five-year-old got the idea to question me about when I was going to get married. It just harkens back to the first time I met all his family and they were all welcoming me. We'd only been dating like 4 months. Totally freaked me out.

I was entertained, though, by the fact that both SB and I decided, due to the madness of this weekend, that we don't want to have kids for a very long time. And my S-i-L and I talked about having kids someday (obviously NOT together), and that was a little weird, too. It was interesting to see her going through the same type of thigns I went through when she and my brother got engaged. Because I like her, I really do, and I'm glad that I was in the wedding. On the other hand, though, I didn't know her THAT well, and it's kind of awkward because she's becoming a part of your family and you want to make her feel welcome, but it's still all weird. Also the mother of the bride gave the bride feathery sex shoes, and I thought that was weird, too. NOT the relationship I have with my family, I can tell you that...

It's Almost Done.

So today was random coincidence in the blog world day. I found this one blog that is much more like this one would be if I were actually open about what I was going through. But let's face it. That's not going to happen. It's like my secret blog. I could hardly stand to have a secret blog because if I'm not willing to say something where the whole world can read it, I'm not comfortable being upfront about it even with my good friends. But yes. So she's got cats, she's close to my age, she's a former english major...

Then I found another blog (work was slow today. Can you tell?) that is written by a girl who's from my hometown (or close enough) and who works in a non-profit. Craziness.

And while I haven't been very productive at work, I have been productive in other ways. For example, I worked on graduate applications. I'm nearly done with my personal statement. I'm pretty happy with it. I think my voice comes through fairly well. I only hope Georgetown likes it. I think they are still at the top of my list, though I've heard they are stingy with funding. Crazy when they are charging $30,000+ per year for tuition. I'd just be happy to get my tuition funded. I think I can handle the debt for the rest, what with parental help and all. Without them covering tuition, though... That's like $100,000 in debt with living expenses AND I'll have an english degree, so it's not like med students who eventually make much more money. I did email a friend about how he likes NYU. He's not emailed back. My friends have developed a conspiracy theory for this fact.

I also applied for a new job today, and looked for others. It's funny how before I would consider something that was part personal assistant, but now I won't. It might be better with a different boss, but I don't care. The work irks me and I don't like people thinking my life (or at least my work life) should be spent making someone else's life as easy as possible. Again, maybe if I were working for someone I really supported, it might be different because then I would want to make their life easier. Either way, it's not worth the risk to me.

And now it's off to "Crazy insane family weekend," in which my brother, his wife, his in-laws, SB's sister, mom, niece and nephew all come on the same weekend. Plus Cassie has a vet appointment. She's not going to be happy...

Lack of Communication

I rediscovered the link to the Love Cave. Sigh. Even looking at the pictures make my shoulders want to relax some.

So the rest of this post I feel the need to say, but I'm a little afraid. People get vehement and stubborn and close-minded on all sides, and I really feel no need to have people yelling at me on my blog. With that said, I'm writing it anyways, because I want to and because when have I ever shrunk from a challenge?

And the controversial topic is... the student strike at Gallaudet. For those of you not in the area, Gallaudet is the main college for people with hearing disabilities in the country, if not the world. The old president is stepping down at the end of December. The board went through a search procedure, and picked someone who already worked for the school. The students went nuts. Really, really angry about the fact that this woman was chosen. This was all in the spring of last year. Now there has been a sudden resurgence in the anger, the students protested and shut the school down for three days, and the only thing they'll accept is the soon-to-be president's resignation.

Now I'm not going to say much about the protest. I tend to think most protests can be pointless, since frequently the protesters don't seem to know what they want to accomplish. In this case, the students seem to be claiming that they are primarily upset about the way the new president was chosen. They feel they had no voice, although there were students on the selection committee. But when the administration offered to have outsiders audit the selection process, the students refused. I have no contacts there, I haven't talked to any students, but that confuses me. Other people have pointed out that very few students have a voice on university presidential selection committees. Maybe all university students should care so much who is in charge of the university.

One of the more interesting issues that has come up, though, and one that confuses me the most is that one of the main problems students have with the incoming president is that she supports children having cochlear implants implanted. Apparently, this is a kind of betrayal in the deaf community. Now I understand that there is a deaf community. These people have faced a lot of difficulty in their lives and I admire them for their fortitude. But why would they want children to not be able to hear? People have argued that parents should wait and let the children decide for themselves, that the parents are being selfish because raising a deaf child is more complicated. But no one really complains about children who have physical deformities having them fixed. No one would tell the parents of a child missing a leg not to let him have a prothestic. I haven't heard any blind people arguing that someone who's blind shouldn't have surgery that could repair their sight. They might argue against it. I've never heard anyone, but how many blind people do I know whom I can ask? I can't think of one. Maybe they have the same arguments as the deaf community. Either way, it doesn't make sense to me. Am I missing something? To me, not having a sense makes life more challenging. I want my kids to be able to hear Beethoven's 5th, Christmas carols. I love music so much, and nature sounds, and talking, and listening, and a million other things. Why shouldn't I want my kids to have the opportunity to experience those things? When did being deaf go from being a disability to being a form of diversity?

Beauty, part deux

The Today show mentioned a new Dove video which shows how advertising companies modify the model's normal appearance so she looks like what we see in ads. It was a little crazy. Not only did they put a ton of make-up on her and make her hair big, they also electronically modified her appearance, making her hair even bigger and her neck longer. I have thus decided that Today show editors obviously read my entry on beauty earlier this week. Though when you throw the whole using computers to modify picture thing into the mix, it makes our concept of beauty all the more complicated, since now we are striving to look like people who don't exist in real life. No wonder people are so screwed up.

There is this online "What famous person do you look like" thing, where you input your picture and they scan it and compare your features to those of celebrities. I put in two different pictures and got Deborah Messing and Drew Barrymore. And it's funny. When you put my picture next to theirs, I can see some resemblance. Only in the face in Deborah Messing's case. I mean, she's so skinny, her clavical could be a weapon. It reminds me of that woman on "Last Comic Standing" who claimed having sex with her was like doing a hanger. She was funny. I was sad to see her get kicked off.

Speaking of tv and sex, Paula Deen on her new show, "Paula's Party," is a dirty little flirt. I mean, I thought the whole conversation with the French guy about her breasts on the show on her European vacation was bad. But the one episode of "Paula's Party" I've seen, she sat on a guy's lap, fed him brownie off of a wooden spoon, and licked the spoon while he was eating off it. It was highly suggestive. And a bit disturbing.

Testing, One, Two, Three

I got my official gre scores yesterday. It's one of those things that even though the score pops up on the screen before you leave, I somehow start to doubt if I saw things correctly. So I was glad to see that I did indeed remember my scores correctly, and did as well on the writing as I thought I would. My mom was very excited. Though she went to see David Sedaris yesterday, so she was just in an excited mood yesterday anyways. And my gre literature books should get in today, so that test won't entirely kick my ass. Just partly. I mean, really. I looked at some of the suggested vocab lists. Words I had never even heard of. Terms that describe word play that I'm familiar with in practice, but didn't know there was a term for. Things I cannot even pronounce. Besides the fact that Paradise Lost is the most sited work on the whole test and I haven't read any of that since high school. What makes me mad about this whole thing is that the academy is in the midst of an argument about whether or not the Canon as we know it even really exists. No one reads the same books any ,ore. I'm sure Jessica Hagedorn's Dogeaters won't be on there, though I read that for a class.

So here is my question. What is the point of this test? I'm sending these people a writing sample, recommendations from professors, my transcript from 4 years of study. How is knowing whether I can identify a passage from The Faerie Queene really going to show admissions how I'll deal with studying modern lit in grad school? Should I not get funding because I thought a passage by Shakespeare was from A Midsummer Night's Dream rather than Twelfth Night? It all seems a little ridiculous.

I did get into a fight today on DC Bachelor. Surprisingly enough not with DCB, but with some other guys who decided that all women secretly want to be dominated, and that no relationship in which the woman earns more than the man will succeed. I'm annoyed, though, because the stupid site is not letting me post my next comment (the guy claims that career women make bad moms, and that I would never marry a poor, short dude) and I really want to comment. Grr...

Only Skin Deep

"Beauty is only skin deep," will forever remind me of my friend Emily from high school. My french teacher quoted it to us. Emily paused for a minute, looked up, and asked, in all seriousness, "How deep is skin?" It made us all laugh, and my teacher looked at her askance.

So I was looking through old pictures today, and I noticed how my face has changed. I'm not entirely sure why. Change of weight, getting older, whatever. But I looked and I thought, "Wow, my skin looked great, and look at that," blah, blah, blah. And I know at the time I wasn't any more comfortable with my appearance than I am now, which is a frequent discussion with SB. I have wished before that I could somehow see myself through his eyes. Or anyone's eyes, for that matter. Just to see what I look like to everyone else.

Now this is not to say that I am all that obsessed with my appearance or that I really think it matters all that much. I know, I know, studies show that more attractive people do better in life, but I think there is really a limit to that. Because think about it. If someone is super-attractive, are people going to want to be around them? Are less attractive people going to feel anything but jealousy for the more attractive?

All of this made me think, though, not about my own insecurities. Because let's face it. Been there, done that. It bores me now. Instead I started to think about the role and history of beauty in our society. The concept of beauty has changed so much over the past centuries. Beauty once was more a symbol of wealth. Bigger was better because it meant you could afford not to work. Now beauty has been tied into cultural hegemony. As women have gained power, the concept of beauty has gotten smaller for them. As if society is telling women that they must pay for their increased power by taking up less space. The opposite is true for men.

So how much of beauty is anything beyond societal concepts? How much do we read into beauty signs of other things? That man can't be evil; he's too pretty. That woman must be dumb because of how she looks. Is beauty anything beyond a way to sort the world? To pretend like we know something about people we have no contact with?

An unraveling rug

There was a really interesting article in Slate today, called "Welcome to the Age of the MySpace Novel." The article was about the future of literature, and whether or not authors can survive in a culture as inundated with new media as we are. The authors posited that we are now living almost settingless lives. How can writing encompass the new reality that we live in?

A subtext of the article was the question of identity, a topic that very much interests me and one that I believe I will base my graduate study around. Identity formation has become a very chic topic in the past few decades, mainly because it seems to have become more complex as the world goes stronger. Whom do we identify with, and why? Am I a woman first, an American, a resident of DC, a Southerner? If I am asked to indentify with a woman from India or a man from Georgia, who will I pick? What makes that portion of my identity stronger than the other? And now we are forming new, even more nefarious identities. How many people go online and create a different persona? We have now added another dimension to our social interaction. And social interaction is crucial to identity. A person frequently doesn't associate herself wiht one group until another group is opposed to it. (Those of you familiar with Said's Orientalism will recognize this argument.) This flows into Butler's argument that by setting yourself against something, you are in fact helping to perpetuate it by helping to define it. But how does this all play out online? The rules are still there, but slightly different. It's like in space. Gravity exists, the rules still work up there, but nothing acts quite as you're used to. People have genuine relationships, real friendships online. People do have real interactions. I know that I feel it can be easier to open up in an electronic medium, because you don't have to see facial expressions. You are more seperated from the reactions. But you are also more vulnerable. Once you have typed something to someone, it's documented. Look at Foley. If he had only called pages? His case would be much different. Not only that, when you communicate electronically, you are limiting your ability to influence reactions to your words. How many bloggers have been incredibly frustrated by commenters who just don't get it? If you type something that was meant to be a joke, but the other person thinks is mean, you can't see their reaction and try and fix it. And they're more likely to misinterpret what you are saying as well. How is all this electronic communication going to effect the next generations?