NERD RAGE: The Political Rant You've Always Wanted From Me

Saturday, 5 October

So this has been me since 10 PM on Monday night, all the damn time:

Liz Lemon Understands

Why do I have so much nerd rage? Because right now is kind of a shitty time to be a political science major. It's also a really exciting time. I am perpetually hangcited—hungry, angry, and excited. I'm stoked for analyzing everything and I want to collectively punch the GOP in the face and also I am really craving a soft pretzel.

I don't usually write political rants, because I think it's fucking stupid and mostly just starts fights and you know me—I don't start things. But this is important. Because I am seriously so fucking angry. This is the last straw.

So I'm going to address some statements I've heard and tell you what's the deal behind them.

Statement Number One: I hate politicians.

Here's The Deal: Throughout my political science classes, I've been told that people have a great deal of support for our Constitution and our system of government, but don't trust the people IN said government. So what can you do?

Stop electing fucking idiots. Do your research. We as a people have the power to put people in office that represent our interests. If you don't feel your representative is doing a good job, DON'T REINFORCE BAD BEHAVIOR. If your dog bites you, you don't give it a treat; you tell that motherfucker off.

Also, NOT voting is often as bad as reelecting these people. You have no right to complain if you didn't go to the polls and things aren't going your way. That's like getting mad because your own dirty dishes are clogging up the sink. Fucking do something about it instead of letting it stagnate. House elections are next year. Get on it.

Statement Number Two: Obamacare is unconstitutional.

Here's The Deal: Seriously, just stop.

It's constitutional. The Supreme Court cleared this up last year. They made some amendments to the bill that have been put into effect. The Necessary and Proper Clause of the Constitution (which, for those of you following along, is Article 1, Section 8, Clause, aka Paragraph, 18) completely legitimizes this, and that was the majority opinion written by Justice John Roberts. The General Welfare Clause, in my opinion, is ALSO a decent backup (Article 1, Section 8, Clause 1).

It is STAGGERING the amount of people that don't know this. The internet is awesome. Alternate your cat video watching with some brief current events. It's not hard. It's like reading this, but with less profanity (sorry, I curse when I'm angry or exhausted, both of which I happen to be right now. It's been a rough year).

And if you still think a charged statement like this legitimizes your complaint against the Affordable Care Act, just get over it. This is now a purely political fight and not a legal battle. There is a distinction.

Statement Number Three: Obamacare suxs.

Here's the Deal: This is a political view that I'm going to preach. Personally, I think it doesn't suck.

Have you ever NOT had health insurance? My family didn't for about ten years because my parents were self-employed and we couldn't afford it. We're ridiculously accident-prone. When my brother was four years old, he jumped off the top of our staircase and predictably broke his elbow (you know, the cringeworthy arms-don't-bend-that-way break). We called an ambulance because he was going into shock. It took us FOUR YEARS to pay off that ride which lasted ten minutes.

Luckily, my dad's job now provides health insurance. But at one point, we were balls deep in those bills. Coverage helps so much. We're still breaking bones like we get paid to. But it's not nearly as bad.

Healthcare is a mess. The Affordable Care Act aims to make healthcare more affordable, reduce the uninsured rate of Americans, and stop discriminating against preexisting conditions.

If you already have employer insurance, Medicare, or Medicaid, you're cool. It won't affect you. You might even end up paying less. Individual states can decide whether or not to go along with the Medicaid expansion (Colorado has decided to go along, for those of you following along).

I still think that the Medicaid/Medicare needs to be more tightly regulated because unfortunately, people do indeed take advantage of the systems and that needs to stop. I'm not going to pretend to know how to do that. I'm not an expert. I'm a broke college student taking shots in the dark.

Of course it's going to cost more money. THAT'S HOW IT WORKS. But the long term trend is that it will help alleviate costs and make this ridiculous inflation of costs decrease in the coming years. And I think that'd be nice. If you want to see it in action, I'll refer you to Massachusetts, where essentially the same thing was implemented under the state government, under a REPUBLICAN (that was good old Mitt Romney, for those of you following along). Kay cool.

Statement Number Four: The Blame Game.

Here's the Deal: BOTH parties are at fault. Compromise is how this whole "politics" thing works. When people don't compromise, it's GOING TO BREAK LIKE IT IS NOW.

Republicans, I refer you to Statement Number Two. Seriously. You LOST. This has been a law for THREE YEARS AND THE JUSTICE SYSTEM THINKS IT'S TOTALLY LEGITIMATE.

Get rid of your extremist agenda. At the base of the GOP is some really good, pure ideology that I respect, and you should throw back to that, because right now you seriously suck so much and it's not even fair. Eat a Snickers, you're not you when you're hungry. Remember the days of Reagan? That's what your party is, and I wouldn't hate you so much if that is what you're getting at and not this fucking bullshit.

Democrats, I refer you to Statement Number Three. Get at the real issues. You can afford to be flexible on some issues in the Affordable Care Act. We HAVE to be flexible on some issues, because we literally can't afford anything else.

And seriously, if this is how we're acting on the spending bill, what is it going to come down to when we have to RAISE THE DEBT CEILING IN TWO WEEKS?

People ask me what I want to be when I grow up, and I am seriously so embarrassed to say that I want to be a politician because of what's happening lately.

So Congress, do your fucking jobs while you still fucking have them (I refer to Statement One), because I'm sick of the lot of you. Compromise. Work together. Do not make me hate my major and my life decisions. Because I do enough of that on my own.

Statement Number Five: We can smoke weed legally now that the government's shut down, right?

Here's the Deal: If you say this in jest, I think you're funny and we're probably friends, but if you say this in complete seriousness, I seriously hate you so much. That would be ACTUAL ANARCHY. Ever heard of federalism? Yeah, it's a thing. There is a balance between federal and state governments. And the people who throw you into jail for lighting up in public work for the STATES, which are still fairly functional.

So yeah. That's my rant. I'm just going to add one thing.

Maybe I'm just a huge fucking geek that loves this and I need to get a life that isn't so impossibly lame, but most of the issues I have with people stem from their complete ignorance. I LOVE having informed talks with people and I'm happy to discuss it with you if you're open and curious about it. But if you're acting like an authority on the subject and you're being a jerk and you refuse to open up when you don't have a clue, it isn't fun. It kind of makes me want to punch you in the face, and I'm not a violent human, usually.

So please, increase your constitutional literacy and keep up with the politics. A pocket Constitution is like three dollars. I have one in my WALLET if you want to borrow it sometime. The internet is a great resource. You can get Twitter updates. It's EASY to follow politics. Even if it's just a quick weekly update or something.

We are the fountain of authority in this nation. And we are SO LUCKY to have that. You don't even know. It's a republic if we can keep it, as Ben Franklin said. This whole thing only works with an informed populace, so if you want it to work out, you need to pull your own weight too.

Okay. I'm done.

On a lighter note, Season Eight of How I Met Your Mother was just posted to Netflix and all of my homework plans just fell to shit. So I'm off to do that.

Thanks for reading, and stay excellent. :)

Dancing in the Storm

13 September 2013

I literally couldn't have picked a more cliche title if I tried. Fuck it all.

There is a quote from Jack Kerouac's novel On the Road that goes, "I had nothing to offer anybody except for my own confusion." And that basically sums everything up.

Coming back to Boulder has simplified some things, like the fact that I can actually see my friends and go to Denny's whenever the hell I want and I've got some lovely mental stimulation from my classes and I can talk about property suits and liability (thanks, Constitutional Law!) like it's no big deal.

And yet, coming back to Boulder has also complicated a lot of things—once again, what the hell is going on? has become the central question of my life. And I'm trying to remember how to be okay with that.

I wish it was easier, and I wish I was't such a crazy person engaged in this never-ending war between her head and her heart, and I wish I could tell you these things without having to keep it all bottled up like I do.

So this is me trying to explain why my life lately has felt like the disaster my home is right now.

A lot of people that have come into my life in the last year don't know that I used to be a ballerina. Not a dancer. A ballerina. Even when I did have a brief foray into the hip-hop world, people just laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, because I was a ballerina. Tennis shoes were for tennis. Not the dance studio.

I sacrificed fourteen years of my life for dance. Sacrificed is the opportune word. I gave up weekends, any chance of a social life because I was an introvert and didn't make friends easily unless I was seeing them all the damn time, and I broke my heart, my body, and my spirit for this art form.

I first jumped on the initial bandwagon of dance, because what four-year-old doesn't want to be a ballerina? Or a princess? All my friends were doing it, so why not? I am a bit like a lemming in this respect. But it's a staple of my personality. I thought I'd try it out for about a year or so to see if I'd continue down this frankly expensive path. I wasn't entirely sure about it, either. And then one day, I found myself dancing down the aisle of the grocery store and thought, "I'm in trouble." Even at four years old, I realized this was something that I wasn't going to be able to give up easily.

I switched to Fabulous Feet Dance Academy, and the next thirteen years of my life were spent in that studio. Sometimes, it was terrible and I questioned my life choices. But mostly, it was a place where we could get past the trite problems of everyday life and become a unit dancing to a single beat, where we could be connected in a genuine way to other human beings. It was the most real thing I knew.


Which is ironic, because most people think it's superficial and stupid. Sometimes it is. Sometimes I hated it. Maybe it reads better than it lives, and maybe this is just nostalgia. But believe me. It was the most reality I'd ever experienced.

And I loved it for that. If I can ever love anything as much as I loved dance, I don't know what I'm going to do except never let it go.

But one night in February 2011, I was doing a part of the recital piece I'd done a thousand times and had helped to choreograph, and my right patella stopped bring in my patellar groove for five agonizing seconds. It was the most pain I'd ever felt in my entire life, because literally all I'd ever loved was gone in a split second. It effectively ended my dance career. Even with recovery and physical therapy, I was in too much pain and I was too scared to go at the same level I'd been at to continue. I stopped entirely after my eighteenth birthday.

And it broke my heart. In some way, I will always be cleaning up after this first radical heartbreak.

I learned a lot from it—how to be a microcosm of a universe, how to make friends, what being alive feels like.

But my entire personality was shaped by dance. The ballet studio is one of the only places in the world that if asked to jump, you ask "How high and in what position?"

You're expected to give up everything for minimal rewards.

You have to make it look graceful and effortless even though you're a crazy-awkward person that's putting literally everything into your movement. It has to look easy even when you're dying.

You have to trust people to have their shit together. You need to have your shit together because if you don't you throw off the whole form. Unity is important, so you conform to the group.

In many ways, my life has been better because of this. I am creative and I can follow orders and I can inspire people and I can see patterns and I can deal with things. Usually.

But lately, I've felt like this weather. I feel like my life is spinning out of control and that I'm not able to understand anything. I am so confused and I don't know what I want and nothing is as easy anymore. I'm so worried about everyone and I feel like in some way it leads back to me, and I apologize too much for everything and I'm terrible at feeling my feelings and I am a shitshow.

And I feel like this leads back to my experience in the dance studio. I can no longer jump so high and follow this path my life is leading down because I don't know the steps anymore.

I can't make it look effortless because I feel like I'm drowning, and I have to yell for help and that's scary. It's NOT easy anymore and I can't just plaster over it all with grace and humor.

I'm too scared to give up what I have and go for more because everything is too precious and I don't want to lose it.

I'm a shitshow, so it must affect other people in some way. It must throw off the whole rest of the form. It's so hard to see people that kind of have their lives together while I'm struggling to stay afloat. I trust that everyone else is okay and when they aren't, I'm so scared because the way I'm feeling is too fucking awful that other people feel this way too.

This is why I apologize so much. I know you people hate this, and that it's NOT my fault all the time, but I've been raised in a dance studio and my life's formative years were spent apologizing for broken things and promptly fixing things. You were doing something wrong if you couldn't quickly apply corrections. Now that everything is broken, I just have to keep apologizing. It's supposed to let you know that I'm working on it. It's my way of saying, "I'm not okay right now but it will get better. Give me some time." Being a mess was not okay growing up, and now that it's what my life is constantly, it's really hard trying to accept that's okay. Or something.

And I know Boulder's fucking underwater and life shouldn't feel like it's a mess because I still have a home and I still have all of my friends kind of safe and it's actually relatively stable, but it's so hard. That's all I can say. Being human is scary and it's awful sometimes.

I am optimistic that things will change. But in the meantime just know that I am trying so hard to get it together. That's why I'm sorry. I'm not together. But I am trying. You must know that.

And if you're in a dark place, I can't say that it'll get better with absolute certainty. But there are some lessons about unconditional love that I learned from dance. So hold onto those things that you do love, because they are precious. Don't ever forget that you're loved and you can love. They might hurt you, but for now, it's the greatest thing in the world, to love. Sometimes, it's awful, but it's not unbearable. Things suck. I know. But the sun always comes out after a rain. You can stand back up when you fall down. You keep going until the next good moment. That's what we need to stay afloat.

So thank you for still putting up with my shitshow life. I appreciate it so much. Thank you for holding me when I needed to be held and telling me it's going to be okay even if you don't believe it yourself. It means so much.

Stay safe, hold the ones you love close, and don't stop going.

Thanks for reading.

Let's Jump Some Canoes When I Shout Into the Void

Wednesday 31 July

This blog is not really going to have a coherent theme. If this was an essay submitted on the AP Language and Composition exam, I'd get like a 1 tops.



First off, HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY POTTER! Basically that series changed my life and I still spend my time scanning the skies for an owl with my stupid Hogwarts letter. I went from an awkward history nerd that read a lot of books to an awkward fantasy nerd who read a lot more books. And then I started writing, which is either the best or the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I'm awesome at essays but super introverted, which means that socializing is always just really exhausting. But I wouldn't really change it. It's broadened my mind and it keeps you dreaming. Anything supernatural—wizards, magic, alternate universes, fairies, superheroes—is going to reveal our inherent humanity, and I really think that's an important thing to keep examining, especially in the ridiculous world we live in today.

Plus it's kinda nice to get to a party and have the conversation steered to Harry Potter one way or another and basically have a nerdgasm with people you've never met. It's the greatest feeling of camaraderie. Maybe it is a granfallon (still on the Vonnegut binge), but I don't mind it.

Anyway. Moving on.



Secondly, when I heard that Kate Middleton gave birth to a son I did a happy dance at work. Ironic, since I was reading a novel on Thomas Cromwell who helped Henry VIII marry Anne Boleyn, who failed to provide a male heir. When asked what I was celebrating, I said, "THE DUCHESS OF CAMBRIDGE WON'T LOSE HER HEAD YAY!" and then had a great conversation about British succession.

Yeah I know I'm an Anglophilic nerd. I do what I want.



Thirdly, I'm not sure how the hell I'm supposed to stop binging on Netflix when I go back to school. In the last month, I've finished:
1. The Tudors—really freaking great, Jonathan Rhys-Meyers was brilliant and I'd recommend it to mature audiences that enjoy politics
2. Freaks and Geeks—I actually got my sister addicted to this late 90's cult classic and we both cried when it was over because it's SO GOOD, and also it's weird seeing young James Franco and Seth Rogen.
3. Season 3 of White Collar—because Matt Bomer. I love that show and I can't wait until Season 4 comes on Xfinity.
4. Camelot—meh. I can see why it was cancelled and a placeholder for Game of Thrones. Also, if any of you know where I can get Season 1 of Game of Thrones, let me know.
5. Sherlock on BBC—DELIGHTFUL. THIS SHOW IS PERFECT. I CRIED FOR TWENTY MINUTES WHEN SHERLOCK DIED BECAUSE EVEN THOUGH I KNEW HE CAME BACK (because it's Sherlock Holmes, duh) IT WAS JUST SO FULL OF EMOTION. And it was a brilliant modern interpretation of the classic stories—"A Study in Pink" was a fucking awesome adaptation of A Study in Scarlet, and "The Hound of Baskerville" was a great adaptation of The Hound of the Baskervilles—which, of course I've read both of those novels and thirty short stories because this is me. WATCH IT NOW.
6. Plus, I'm keeping up with the current seasons of Suits (really awesome legal drama on USA), Pretty Little Liars (my guilty pleasure show that I really shouldn't enjoy as much as I do), and Drunk History (because I like drunk people and also history).

I'm about to start either House of Cards from Netflix or Breaking Bad and hopefully finish one if not both of those series before school starts, because then I'm DONE until Thanksgiving Break (and that's not a binding contract, because if I have a bad week I'm just going to sit down and marathon Arrested Development to cheer me up).



Fourthly, I read this article as a followup to the mediocre Time piece on Millennials that my grandma sent me (since I'm too poor to afford Time).

I'm a millennial. I hate my job, but I'm so bored when I'm not working. And I hate that about myself.

When I read the Time piece, I first started thinking that I hated everyone in my generation, including myself. And then I started to write a blog about it and fully process the article and the comic, and I realized I don't actually hate everyone in my generation.

I just hate everyone in the most general sense of the word.

I realize this makes me a nihilist, and I don't give a shit. I hate Generation X for not taking responsibility for the mess we're in and instead are trying to patch things up. I hate the Baby Boomers for conforming to the capitalist bullshit that's warping our culture and destroying all sense of purpose, save for the consuming need for MORE SHIT that we don't require. I hate the Silent Generation for the Cold War and getting too comfortable with America being on the top. I hate the GI Generation because of their failure to do something about the blatant disregard for civil equality in the country until it was too late and people had to die. I hate the Lost Generation for sinking into apathy about the moral wasteland that is America and not doing anything. I hate our inaction and that we are basically just intent to destroy ourselves.

People suck.

And so on.



Fifthly, (connected to Fourthly) I read a 1996 novel by Chuck Palahniuk. It's more famous for the brilliantly done 1999 film adaptation. It has a bar of soap on the cover.

Fight Club.

Holy crap.

"You have a class of young strong men and women, and they want to give their lives to something. Advertising has these people chasing cars and clothes they don't need. Generations have been working in jobs they hate, just so they can buy things they don't really need.
"We don't have a great war in our generation, or a great depression, but we do, we have a great war of the spirit. We have a great revolution against the culture. The great depression is our lives."

And I realize me liking this book and these sentiments is kind of pathetic, because, yeah, I'm middle class and white; and boo-hoo I can actually self-actualize my existential crisis because I'm not worrying about like food and water and shelter and my first couple rows of Maslow's hierarchy is solid.

But that doesn't mean it's not important. Because this is the shit we all ask ourselves when we lay awake at night wondering what it all means and if it's all worth it.

And sometimes I do drive home from my banal (and absolutely pointless) job in this banal town and I wonder if this is what the rest of my life is going to be like. Having a flare of passion and then realizing that it's all just empty and broken and that an idea of something is never going to be anywhere near the real thing. I don't want to be disappointed. I want to get out of this great depression of life.

But when I do hang out with my stupid friends who play Bananagrams and make super shitty soda cake and shout at each other in Pit and sing off-key to "Party in the USA" and like Denny's and look at art; and when I'm able to go to classes and get inspired by new material and then prove I know what I'm doing when I get 105% on the final (yeah, fuck you stats!); and when my family can go an entire meal without getting in a fight, it's a temporary relief from the agony of living. It's a reminder that it's not all so horrible. That there are some halfway decent things to focus on and it's not all shitty. There are a few more things to focus on other than modern malaise. Like I said, it's not perfect, but it never is. That's the point.

And perhaps these are superficial reliefs, but I don't care. Live by the foma that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy, right?

So I don't know what I'd recommend for the Narrator. Everything will fall to pieces, but there's a little time in the interim to find your foma and try to live halfway genuinely. But what works for me may not work for him. I don't know. This is why I'm a scientist. I ask the questions and then try to postulate answers to them.

But what the hell is going on anyway, right?



Sixthly, I went to a small gathering two weeks ago in Boulder and had a great time hanging out with mostly Josh and Robin and Sierra and Christine. I then convinced three others to go to Denny's and SHOREH THE WAITRESS TOTALLY KNOWS WHO I AM. That either means I'm awesome or pathetic because I am literally a regular at that fucking diner. It's a weird life, but it's where I'm at right now.



Seventhly (Is that a word? I don't know), I HONESTLY DO NOT THINK I CAN MAKE IT THROUGH THE EIGHTEEN DAYS UNTIL I MOVE INTO MY NEW APARTMENT.

It's time to get back to Boulder and eat pancakes and arrive places and know there's something happening and have all of my college friends back and get away from this place that's poisoning my spirit (I know that's melodramatic, but I don't think you understand. I literally go for ten hours a day without talking to literally anyone and it's killing me. I may be an introvert, but I'm not antisocial) and be interested in things. I'm wallowing in a stagnating pool of ennui.

Summer is the bane of my existence. Why did I ever think it was a good thing?

(oh, right, because when I was young and innocent I wasn't as much of a cynic and stuff—by the way, this kind of internal monologue sometimes gets externalized, and I end up having an intense conversation with the perfumes in Victoria's Secret. I'm cool. Really.)



Eighthly (definitely not a word haha), I've climbed two fourteeners this summer and although I loathe aimless bodily exertion, I love it. I'm so stoked I live in a state where I can wake up at three in the morning and hit the trail at five and be on top of the world for about ten minutes of absolute bliss. It forces you to challenge the authenticity of your life.

Maybe that's what the Narrator meant. Climbing some mountains is vaguely related to beating someone to a pulp. It's pushing yourself to the limit of your existence and living closer to the edge. It makes everything else seem slightly less ridiculous. And that's what we need.



Lastly, I'd like to thank you for continuing to read this crap that I feel needs to be said. I don't know what it's doing, but then again, why do we do anything anymore? Epistemological crises are fun, and this little outlet is at least a little helpful for me to share the angst I feel. Thanks. You're the best, my space monkeys. :)

18 Days.

See you on the other side of July.

Basically A Rant in the Sun on English History, Because I'm Cool Like That

Tuesday 2 July

Well. The short story is that summer blows and I can't wait to go back to school in August. I'm really excited to see all my friends again on occasions other than the extremely sacred one of 2-Pi Day and not be bored out of my mind and take a class other than frikkin STATS and exist in the glorious syncopation that is Boulder, Colorado.

I don't know why the hell people ever come back to suburbia after they leave it. It's so banal. I'm sorry. Maybe that's why we're all so crazy. We weren't ever supposed to live our lives like this, amongst the white picket fences and perfectly groomed lawns and safe homes. I don't know. Maybe if you never leave, it's easier. But it's hard to be content anymore in this place.

So yeah. I work a lot. I've gotten really good at yelling at the rich bastards that park their Lexuses in the clearly labeled loading zone, tanning awkwardly (wearing a swimsuit in public is just plain embarrassing anymore...and I'm like kind of bikini ready, save for my stupid tan lines), and sweeping pinecones off the sidewalks. I've also perfected my skills with a leaf blower, which is pretty legit. Yeah manual labor!

I also got a ten-dollar tip the other day, and it was akin to receiving an earldom, because I am literally that broke.

The reason I like this job is because I get paid to read, basically. I've finished 18.5 novels whilst roasting in the sun this summer. And I couldn't be happier. I've been on a Vonnegut binge, and he's fucking awesome. Breakfast of Champions is probably the best thing I've read in two years, with Timequake a close third (ish—The English Patient changed my life, so that has to be up there). Like balls. He's so amazing. There's something just so frank and honest about his style that I just adore, and his whole worldview is fascinating and he can articulate the agony of humanity better than I will ever hope to do. I've tried some Ian Fleming, and that was decent. James Bond FTW. Now, I'm halfway through Catch-22 and that's hard to follow sometimes, but today at work I was laughing like a maniac in my perch for a good two hours.

I also got about three-quarters of the way through a behemoth of a book about Eleanor of Aquitaine, the Arthurian-applicable mother of Richard the Lionheart 12th century queen, who was basically the bitchingest lady in Europe since Morgan le Fay and until Elizabeth Tudor. She's a badass. An under appreciated, unduly forgotten female badass of history, and I think that's tragic.

I've got this really weird insane passion for English history. I love it almost as much as I love American Revolutionary politics, which is saying something.

So, it's only fitting that my current Netflix binge is The Tudors, a ridiculously raunchy, pseudo-historical drama revolving around the court of Henry VIII—you know, the fat bastard with the six wives. They are, as I explained to Ellie: The Religious One (Catherine of Aragon), The Skanky Bitch One (Anne Boleyn), The Ill-Fated One (Jane Seymour), The Lucky One That Made It Out Alive (Anne of Cleves FUCK YEAH), The Fucking Annoying One I Can't Fucking Stand (Katherine Howard—oh my god in the series I want to punch her in the throat), and The One Who's Pretty Much A Nurse For The Old Fat Bastard (Catherine Parr). English History with Maggie Rose. It'd be way better than any college course you'd ever take.

So basically even though some of it's remarkably inaccurate (like the fact that Henry had two sisters instead of just the one, and that Sir Francis Bryan came to court earlier, and that Wosley died before Margaret, and that Henry was an old fat fuck by this point in the series while he's actually kinda hot in the depiction), it's kinda cool to see it brought to life (especially since that involves Henry-"Pantydropper"-Cavill as the Duke of Suffolk, aka THE HOT DUKE, aka why isn't he single and I not a broke ass scholar with six dollars left to my name?).

I've also realized, with all this glorious history, that all I honestly want to do with my life is go to Europe and just sleep on trains and look at castles and churches and shit and maybe have a couple of good brews. Until that happens, I cannot die a happy and contented human being. It's been the only thing I've really wanted to do since I was eight years old and read my first book on Elizabeth Tudor. Like, this predates my desire to win the presidency. It's a Big Freaking Deal.

So if any of you want to go, like, get a couple beers and look at the scaffolds that historical figures were executed on, then hit me up. I'd be down with that.

However, another thing I wanted to do was be a princess, because, really, what eight year old girl DOESN'T want to be a princess. I now realize that being a princess prior to their being demoted to just head of state and nothing but a ceremonial figure would have been fucking miserable. Being a female, you had no rights whatsoever, excelling in needlepoint was the pinnacle of success, you were basically married off to the highest bidder, you were expected to be this perfect model of society when your husband could do whatever the hell he wanted, and if you didn't have a son, fuck biology; you're probably a stupid whore and it's your own fault. That is profoundly not the life for me, honestly. I need more autonomy than that, thank you very much. You can have your stupid fucking gowns and shit. I'll take my Ramen and doctoral degree.

Honestly, even being alive before the discovery of penicillin or whatever would have been fucking miserable. For Chrissake, the primary occupation was basically "DYING OF SOME TERRIBLE FUCKING DISEASE AND/OR CRUEL AND UNUSUAL EXECUTION." And quite frankly, if you weren't a wealthy man who was too stupid for politics, you were pretty much screwed one way or another. It is no wonder to me why they were such devout Christians—basically anything was better than what they were living, and even experiencing life as it was is probably enough to not want to go to  something worse in hell. Religion was literally the only source of hope for them. It's like Vonnegut said in Cat's Cradle—even if it is a pack of foma, harmless untruths, you have to live by those that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy. And religion did that for them, and even with all the things the church did to consolidate power, and even though I may not personally align with them concerning the meaning of life, there is indeed something noble in that they made people believe their lives didn't suck as much as they did.

Anyway. I like history. Especially when you really do start to look at it from a universal point of view and start to realize that your feelings are exactly the same as someone else's in this grand root system that connects us. It makes you think of why the hell we keep persevering on this swiftly tilting planet, and I think that's important.

Then again, I may have just been in the sun for too long, but you know. Maybe it's still important or something. :)

Anyway, I'm going to watch some more Netflix and study for my stats exam tomorrow. Maybe I'll blog again this week. Maybe. We never really know anymore. :)

Whoever you are, wherever you are, I hope your summer's going well and that you're soaking up the sun and that you keep moving forward and that you're staying hopeful because there are so many reasons to smile in these times. Thanks for reading. :)

Off the Grid: My Foray Into Swedish Pop Culture and Examination of Superman's Appeal

Sunday 16 June

Well hello. It’s been quite awhile. I go through periods of my life where I kind of go off like a cat or whatever, and isolate myself from social media and my friends and family and think about stuff and read a lot of books. My life is ridiculously banal in the summer and there isn’t much to report on—one of the signs you’re a gigantic nerd.

Mostly, I watch Arrested Development, read a shitload of books, and kind of cope with the fact that almost everyone I love isn’t within 3,000 feet of me.

I’ve established a sort of routine, which is really quite wonderful because I need structure or I go crazy. I wake up in the morning, take care of some business and read for awhile, then I head up to Boulder rocking out to the playlist I’ve made called “For the Metric Fuckton of Driving I’ll Be Doing.” It’s wonderful. I love to drive, and I think most people think I’m crazy, but whatever, you know?

And then I arrive in Boulder Colorado, and I can’t be happier. Coming to CU was one of the few good decisions I’ve made this year, and I’m so freaking thrilled.

However, orientation is happening on campus. Those kids are like, “Oh, hey, it’s a CU Student in its natural habitat! She must be so ambitious and full of dreams!” and I’m all like, “YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE GETTING INTO. DO YOU SEE ME? I WENT A WEEK WITHOUT SLEEP THIS YEAR. A WEEK. CAN YOU HANDLE THAT ON TOP OF YOUR DREAMS GETTING CRUSHED OVER AND OVER?”

This is why I don’t volunteer for orientation.

Anyway. Then I go to Quantitative Research Methods, which is Stats for Politicians, which is about as fun as it sounds. I mean, it’s kind of awesome since I kind of like the fusion of math and politics, but seriously, kids. It’s STATISTICS. My instructor was like, “I know this is a really complex math course, so don’t feel bad if you get a bad grade,” and I’m like, “Do not EVEN talk to me about COMPLEX MATH COURSES. Have YOU taken Calc III? NOPE, DIDN’T THINK SO. Come back when you completely lose it and pretend you’re the z-axis, and THEN we can have a chat about complex math. Kbye.”

So after an agonizing hour and a half, I eat lunch with my good friends Davis and Graham on Norlin Quad, and that’s always really fun. They usually forget their spoons for their sack lunches, which is always interesting, and we talk about how much we hated statistics and how physics is pretty cool and Harry Potter and how we’d be kicked out of Hogwarts because we’re inappropriate Americans.  It’s a good time.

Yup. Then I hop BACK in the car, jam out, and end up at my job at what I’ll refer to as “Bushwood” (aaaaand now that I’ve typed that out it just seems awkward. Fucking innuendo in Caddyshack). And there are worse ways to earn $8.25 an hour. Mostly, I read books and talk to members (one is a former senator in the state legislator and I sounded like an idiot because I’m bad at thinking on my feet when it comes to politics) and sweep pinecones.

I’ve gone through my entire reading list already, and it’s been three weeks. I’m. Fucked. I’ve read a few Gabriel Garcia Marquez, whose novels rather bored me but I still love his short stories. Kurt Vonnegut is the fucking man (Cat’s Cradle and Slaughterhouse Five fucking blew my mind—everything is beautiful and nothing hurts when you read him), and I really kind of enjoyed a book I read on immigrants in WWI. Because I’m a history Buff (haha get it?).

I’ve also decided that this is the summer of printed dresses and Swedish pop-culture. The former because I like wearing sundresses a lot in the summer (they’re the (literally) cooler, slightly classier version of leggings—you don’t have to give a shit if you wear them), and all of the ones at Target/in my closet are printed.

The Swedish Pop-Culture started when I heard Icona Pop’s single “I Love It” on the radio (you know, the “I crashed my car into the bridge, I don’t care, I love it!” jam—if you don’t I’m ashamed), and discovered I kind of love Icona Pop. Like wow. Look them up and jam.

AND THEN I READ THE GREATEST CRIME THRILLER EVER, THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO BY STIEG LARSSON. OH MY FREAKING GOD. AWESOME. I couldn’t put the trilogy down. I missed several members at work because I was too engrossed.

And then, because I’m a gigantic geek, I’ve discovered that I’m super interested in the Swedish political system, which is discussed in great detail in The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, and I am thinking I may or may not write a thesis dealing with a comparative analysis of either antidemocratic factions or constitutional law in various countries. And I totally know people currently researching in both of those fields. Fuck yeah!

So yeah. I’m that kid wandering around the library, jamming out to Swedish techno in a print sundress reading crime dramas and American dystopian tragicomedies while researching antidemocratic factions. It’s a weird life, but it’s where I’m at right now.

It’s a miracle, then, that people still kind of like to hang out with me. I’ve seen Crissie a lot (though we’re both pretty busy) and I saw The Group for the first time in literally fucking ages when we first hot tubbed at Crissie’s (thanks Crissie!) and then saw Man of Steel (which was alright—I liked the action scenes and um, two words: Henry Cavill. Also, really Zack Snyder? Lens flares are a JJ Abrams thing), and then we saw This is the End, and I almost peed my pants laughing, because it’s genuinely funny, I’m really mature, and I saw it with the group of guys that like to talk about dicks around me. Like I said, a weird life, but where I’m at right now.

But yeah. Sometimes I feel like everything is the same as it was last summer when we were young and infinite and so full of life, and then other times everything just seems so radically different because we’re all so damn tired. I just feel like I’m in some weird-ass limbo shit that I am not emotionally capable of dealing with. I don’t know how to reconcile this at all. Like ever. Does that make me crazy? I don’t know. And part of me knows that we’re never going back to what we all used to be and that it’s probably for the best since growth is necessary for survival, but sometimes I just miss how easy it used to be and the times we used to have. Okay. That’s all I have to say about that.

I also have to say I kind of like Superman. (It could very well be the rocking bod. But honestly, I like to think I’m rarely that shallow). He was the first sensational American superhero. He’s literally the quintessence of superheroism. He was first published in 1938, which was in the throes of a worldwide economic shitstorm and international conflict on a scale we’d hoped to avoid at the end of the first world war. He was a symbol of hope and social justice and fighting against tyranny.

And that just makes me wonder: Why do we need Superman today? Why do we keep remaking that particular superhero (I get the Spiderman remakes—Tobey, really? SPIDEY 3 KILLED ME)? What is it about him that makes us revisit him again and again?

Sidebar: His morality kind of reminds me of Lisbeth Salander a little bit—works alone, no compromises, no clear legal alignment, but with a clear sense of right and wrong and the need for bad deeds to be reprimanded (yeah, I really fucking loved those books). 

And I guess maybe we come back to Superman because he is the same thing as his father told him he’d be—he’s an ideal to strive toward. This is guesswork. I think it’s fascinating that we need something fictional to strive toward, because obviously the real world just keeps feeding us absolute bullshit to deal with. There isn’t much in this world we can turn to for hope. We’ve tried again and again. But there isn’t much to believe in. Maybe I’m a cynic; but hell, if I’m a political science major and am simply appalled by the political climate, there’s something deeply wrong with the world. Superman is perfect for this because he’s so much more than human. He’s literally out of this world. And yet, his morality and his compassion is the human element that we need so much more of these days. This is why I believe Superman is so iconic and we keep investing billions to make halfway decent (but not absolutely spectacular by any means) movies.

We hold onto this ideal of a man of steel because we still believe in an orgastic future that does recede before us, but we never stop chasing it, reexamining it, ceaselessly searching for that elusive something which we need. We’re hopeful, I believe, by nature. It’s no coincidence everyone we admire is someone beyond ourselves, presents some hope that our existence is not futile, that our banal existence has the potential to be so much more. We don’t stop dreaming. We’ll fight again. We’ll keep going even if we’re knocked down. And if that dream is embodied in a moral, compassionate alien who is literally invincible, then I’ll take it as a good thing.

So yeah. This is my life. Maybe I’ll post more. Maybe I won’t. We never really know anymore. Honestly. 

But in the meantime, thanks for reading :)

Adventures in Limbo: Gatsby Movie, Clubbing, And Canoes!

Sunday 19 May

I haven't had much to say. This deep thought Thursday thing is turning out to be a disaster, because in all reality, my life happens on the weekend, which is pretty sad to be honest.

Quite frankly, I didn't really leave my house all week. AND IT'S KILLING ME. I have watched 115 episodes of How I Met Your Mother, eaten virtually all of the food in my house (including some slightly expired cheese, but fuck it YOLO), gone on precisely one eight mile hike, unpacked everything I brought home, set up my summer job, saw Josh on Monday (and I missed that kid so much and catching up with him was absolutely wonderful) and even helped some younguns study for the APUSH exam on Wednesday. And you know what? IT'S NOT LEGENDARY. Basically the best thing about it was that I didn't put on pants for like four days straight.

This is why I hate Arvada. Nothing ever happens here. Basically the most exciting thing that happened here occurred over 100 years ago, when in 1904, we were declared the Celery Capital of the WORLD. Yeah. CELERY. What now, New York City?

On Friday night, I decided to stop living like a fucking hermit and I called up my best friend Crissie and told her we were seeing The Great Gatsby. And so, she got off work, picked me up, and off we went into the night. We grabbed pizza beforehand and it was pretty awesome because we missed it. She talked about her job and how most of the time, it's awful, but there are some moments that make it worth it, and I guess that's true of a lot of things anymore. Actually, it basically describes my damn life. She sounded a bit like me when I get stressed as well, which was pretty sad sounding and I just wanted to give her a hug. It's sad anymore.

But anyway then we went to Gatsby and HOLY BALLS IT WAS SO WELL DONE AND I COULDN'T HAVE ASKED FOR MORE. Carey Mulligan was fabulous as Daisy (at least, heaps better than Mia Farrow, who I wanted to punch in the throat in the 70's version), Tobey Maguire made a surprisingly awesome Nick, and Leo DiCaprio was absolutely perfect as Gatsby. The sets were lavish and over the top and blew my goddamn mind (I WILL own a Gatsby house someday, mark my words—look up Oheka Castle if you want a taste of that kind of luxury, because HOLY POOP IT'S AWESOME).

The soundtrack provided precisely the wonderful juxtaposition Baz Luhrmann is famous for and I've downloaded SO many tracks and it's beautiful. I like to cruise in the Batmobile (my dad's Mazda) and blast "Bang Bang" and "A Little Party Never Killed Nobody"and pretend I'm a badass. And I kind of hate Lana del Ray with a passion reserved for seagulls and series calculus, but "Young and Beautiful" isn't half bad. "Kill and Run" is awesome, as is "Over the Love," and "Crazy in Love" was really well done. Anyway. Gatsby Soundtrack. Download it now.

Long story short, SEE GATSBY AND THEN HOST A FREAKING RAGER IN HIS HONOR AND INVITE ME. BECAUSE AMERICAN DREAM FUCK YEAH.

Yeah. So that was fun and I needed it. A lot.

Then I came home and slept, and the next morning I woke up late and hopped in the car to head off to the first event of the annual Free-Food-and-Drink-A-Thon, AKA Graduation Parties. I saw a lot of graduates and a few kids from my own class. Everyone seemed really well and full of hope for the future, and that was refreshing to see. I caught up with my friend Alyssa and she seems well doing Geological Engineering at Mines.

And yet, she brought up the point that coming back kind of negates the whole college experience. You're both here and there, caught in the middle. She had a point—we're in the limbo between a lot of things, between terms and identities and grade levels and majors and basically everything. It's hard to relate to anyone other than the people in limbo with you and even then it's hard. You're not quite an adult anymore (because let's be real, I'd probably shock most adults in my life if I was completely honest about the college experience), but you aren't even really a teenager grounded in this place (because let's be real, I'd probably shock most high schoolers in my life if I was completely honest about the college experience). You're both within and without, as Nick Carraway so aptly puts it in the film. I still don't know how this begins to work. It's both a blessing and a curse having the reputation I did back here in Arvada any longer. And I don't know how to fit who I am right now into the image of who I used to be, which is basically what everyone seems like they want me to—my friends, my parents, my former peers, my former teachers. And that terrifies me.

Anyway. After THAT existential crisis, I ate dinner, fucked around on the internet, and then got ready to go clubbing with a couple of friends from high school. I got lost on the way to Tayler's house, rallied with the group, and hopped in the car to Beta Nightclub in Downtown Denver.

If I'm going to be entirely honest, clubbing is Not My Scene. Like, definitively. I enjoy house music in small, concentrated doses, like if we're listening to it on the way to a trailhead, or on the way to a party. Not like all night. For a former ballerina, I am an atrocious dancer in the club. I also got hit on a lot, which at first was flattering and then it turned creepy.

Attention men of the world, just because I catch your eye or politely answer and ask a few questions does NOT mean I want to fuck. I'm getting a theoretical minor in "Being Awkward in Public Spaces," so please don't take anything I do and/or say as suggestive. Cool Beans. As fun as getting hit on by random blokes in the club is, I'll probably be meeting a future significant other and/or spouse in the university library, thank you very much.

Honestly, the only thing that prevented the entire experience from being a total bust was that I was there with people I had a wonderful time catching up with and hanging out with. I also convinced them to go to Denny's. And I reiterate: shitty breakfast food at two in the morning is the greatest bonding experience of any lifetime. Score one for Maggie.

When we went outside to cool off from the incubator that is a club, Tayler said that "people mate in such strange ways anymore." And that's also really true. They get drunk, flirt with strangers in a neutral place that encourages bad behavior, and ultimately end up looking for something true and pure in a place that really doesn't inspire that. I don't understand it anymore. I really don't. Maybe that's part of this modern malaise—we really have no idea how to be a human being anymore. We don't know what we're looking for or how to go about finding it.

Yeah. And today I wasn't planning on leaving my house but ended up invited to bowling, which really ended in getting Starbucks with Dani and Davis as their irregular canoe and then watching Star Trek on Flock's couch with Kevin and Caroline joining us, just like and yet fundamentally different from old times. So yeah. That may have been a little awkward, but I don't know if it's cognitive dissonance on my part or if I'm actually, literally batshit insane. It could be both.

So yeah. This is me, now. Caught up in limbo, trying to figure it all out. Like usual. This summer should be really interesting to say the very least.

I promise these will get better once I start reading quality literature and socializing more.

So thanks for reading for now :)

Deep Thought Thursdays: Featuring Maybe Dead Cats and Gatsby Again.

Thursday-Friday 9-10 May

Someone told me I should continue blogging, and I agreed with them because I miss it and it's bloody cathartic.

I was planning on making "Deep Thought Thursdays" an actual thing, but yeah. I don't know anymore if that's going to happen considering it's actually early Friday morning. But whatever. Like really.

This is going to sound blasphemous, but before this week, I'd never watched the show How I Met Your Mother. I discovered it on Saturday when I was supposed to be studying for my physics final, because my friends are a wee bit obsessed with it.

And since then, it's practically been the fucking Fibonacci sequence of HIMYM. Like Saturday it was one episode, Sunday two, Monday three, Tuesday five, (Wednesday I decided I needed to sleep—hence missing the eight) and Thursday I watched thirteen episodes. In a row. I'm all the way through the first season.

I love it. I can understand the obsession. Rightly justified, my friends.

I disagree nothing good happens after two AM, though. I mean, I myself have had great adventures after two AM. Like philosophical talks about the nature of the universe. And meteor showers. And Denny's (multiple times). And Starbucks on the most illustrious all-nighter I've ever pulled. Let's be real, people. Two AM to dawn is IDEAL adventuring time.

But yeah. A year ago on this day, I was taking the AP English Lit exam, and it rather sucked because I was burnt out and I was tired and I was just beginning this grand existential journey I've been traveling for the last year. Oh joy. For future reference, adventures usually aren't the shit you sign up for. I'm a totally different person than I was when I was in Arvada last year. And I don't know how I feel about that. I'll probably be grappling with that whole shindig all summer, so yaaay. Just what I need. An identity crisis on top of the existential one.

Lord help me.

Well HIMYM has made me start thinking about my life again, as all good TV shows probably should, and I've just been thinking maybe some decisions have just been a few in a series of bad timings. Anachronisms. I've been thinking of all the things I could have done to make things end differently with different people, and part of me recognizes the expansive futility of these endeavors, because sometimes Schrödinger's cat is always dead when you open the box. Sometimes there is nothing you can do to make it live. Radiation kills cats. If it's not the radiation, then leaving the box closed for too long certainly kills the cat. I mean really.

Quantum physics is the shit if you ever get the chance to read up on it.

And then I started to think that maybe I really am Jay Gatsby.

Yeah, I’m usually Nick. I observe. I learn. I make social commentaries (hi, internets).

But there is some part of me that is always going to be that alienated soul staring out over the water at a green light, at a dream that’s already dead, at that “orgiastic future which year by year recedes before us.” There’s always going to be a part of me that throws these grand parties, that puts on grand charades hoping for something that may or may not happen, because there’s a part of me that is that fucking idealist that keeps hoping, that keeps dreaming, that keeps thinking. There's always a part of me that's going to hope that the cat is alive, because I want a second chance, because I want to try again. Because I want to keep going. Because I hold onto the good moments. Because sometimes, that's the only thing that’s left to do.

Okay. I'm going to sleep now. Finally. For two hours. Whatever. I'm out, homies.

Sidebar: Gatsby soundtrack is fucking amazing. Also, look forward to the MS MR album drop on Tuesday. It's gonna be legendary. Yeah. I went there.

Look forward to "Deep Thought Thursdays." Next week, it'll ACTUALLY be on Thursday (maybe—I make no promises), and maybe more coherent.

Thanks for reading (again). :)

On Being a Writer

Tuesday 30 April

So today's been interesting to say the least. That's my whole life at this point, honestly. Interesting. I'm still learning and I'm still trying to figure this all out.

I had my Norlin class this morning and watched my colleagues present. Their stories were so profound and wonderful and I'm so proud to have been in class with them. I am going to be honestly so sad when that class ends. Then came Ethics, where we talked about the projects and the ethics behind the Boston event, and it was interesting. I wanted to add some about how the US isn't entirely innocent—if people get too individualized, as Tocqueville says, we leave too much to the government, sinking into apathy and a benevolent despotism which can wage its wars where it wants and perpetuate the existing discourse on the subject or something. As you can see, my brain is not functional right now in the slightest.

Anyway. Then I ate lunch, did laundry, and watched Bates Motel, which was good I suppose.

Then I worked on my Norlin project, which I've basically been doing since 3 PM.

The topic is for us to choose a single story and either expose or defy it as the single story of you. I chose prose because I really fucking despise writing poetry and I'm terrible at rhymes. And I feel like sometimes my voice is lyrical enough to get my point across, so that's why I write prose.

So I guess, since I promised it and it embodies the spirit of this April and of this year, here it is: (you can skip to the end of this blog too if you don't want to real my drivel)

Almost Getting it Kind of Together 

On the last day of my senior year of high school, I went and talked to my favorite teacher, and after a pleasant conversation, he stared at me and said, “You are one of the finest students and individuals I’ve ever had the pleasure to teach. You’ll do great things. I know you’re lost, but you’re a smart kid and you’ll figure it out.”

I smiled, thanked him, and hoped he was right.

I honestly love school. It’s been one of the greatest sources of joy in my life. It’s never been just a series of tasks to be completed—I’m a nerd, and it’s been my vessel to pursue the mysteries of the universe boldly without fear.

Coming to CU to study both chemistry and political science as a Norlin scholar where this is celebrated was probably the best decision I’ve made in the last year. I am so glad I’m a double major in these two opposing subjects. Going to chemistry to do a lab and working through the scientific process just fascinates me, and going to politics class both infuriates and enthralls me as I try to figure out what is happening in this crazy world. I get so excited about these things that I can’t even articulate it sometimes—it suffices just to say that I freaking love what I’m able to do up here.

This has been my single story for so long—I’m a nerd and I flourish whenever academia is involved. I’ve been happy and excited in these various institutions because what I love isn’t outside getting drunk or socializing—it’s discovering more new things about the multitudinous world we live in, be it through art or science or reading or just listening.

This part of me, the rational, logical, controlled, valedictorian, Norlin Scholar, fives-on-half-her-AP-exams, involved, perfected model of society, defined me for so long, and continues to do so. I grew up a little bit angry at this, because sometimes I felt like a complete disaster and needed to be a sad and angry and angsty teenager instead of always so cool. But I conformed. I hate confrontation, so that’s what I do. I convinced myself that those feelings couldn’t possibly be that big of a deal. I detached myself from my emotions, because almost everything can be solved by an intellectual challenge. You can control any data set, or economic outcome, so long as you set the parameters correctly and account for systematic errors.

This year I’m learning a lot in college about coordination complexes splitting the electrons of their nuclei, and why Thatcherism worked so well in the United Kingdom, and I honestly couldn’t be happier about that. You would think that because I am a nerd I would have a handle on this whole “life” thing in a university dedicated to the very pursuit I admire most.

But quite frankly, if I have learned one thing in the last year, it’s that I have no idea what the hell is going on.

This entire year has been more of journey than just my intellectual one. This has been an emotional ride. It’s safe to say I have experienced the full kaleidoscope of human emotions this year, and it’s been both terrifying and gratifying. It has been an education in what it means to be a person.

Throughout the last year I have been discovering that I am profoundly angry about the dilemma that modern life puts us in. It’s intensely dissatisfying. Living has become a dull routine of existence, and I’m so over it. I’ve had too much time to myself to think this over, to become bitter and jaded about the state of the world and the path I’m being forced to take—that of a functional, well-adjusted adult with a career and a family. I don’t think I’m able to do that. I just want to experience something pure and real in this life, and modernity doesn’t seem like it presents many options, amongst the all-consuming dysfunction and superficiality I’ve seen our lives descending into.

Sometimes I sit there, be it in class when I’m having a particularly bad day, or when I’m eating lunch by myself and my mind starts to wander, or when I’m sitting in the library without the motivation to keep going on, and I just feel like screaming. I just want to howl at the world, to have someone see the desperation and the fury lurking underneath this cool and collected exterior.

Quite frankly, I’ve talked to too many highly intelligent people that are just as disillusioned, sinking into a stagnating pool of apathy. I feel like we are a new Lost Generation, morally bankrupt and continually following the ideals of a world we don’t want to live in. And sometimes I wonder, if this is so prevalent, then why can’t we do anything to change it? Is there no alternative?

People always told me everything would make sense in college, when I was older, when life had happened to me, when I got out of my head and started to experience the world. But that has not been my experience. I thought I was finally going to get some answers, but every time I seem like I’m finally on the brink of even a simple answer, something comes along and presents even more questions. They present themselves as my own personal White Whale, perpetually usurping any sense of certainty I think I’m approaching.

I am not Ahab. I cannot slay this beast with the sheer force of my will or intelligence or faith. I cannot outsmart or think through this. I am more like Ishmael, who can only watch helplessly as everything crumbles and go along for the chase, because there is nothing else to do.

Sometimes I break. I’ve been on the verge of collapse for a good week now, and sometimes I think if I do break down I will never be able to get it together ever again. I am that angry and sad and disillusioned. I am so ready to turn away and never look back, tramping a perpetual journey, trying to escape this life I’ve been forced into.

And yet...

Yet, sometimes this whole “having feelings” thing isn’t so much of a bad thing. For the first time in my life, I am opening up to some truly phenomenal people and to the universe itself, in all its beauty and all its despair. For the first time in my life, I feel completely at home. I feel like I am finally standing on solid ground instead of falling perpetually into something or another, or just drifting around like the feather from Forrest Gump. There is a chance that they will hurt me. They have. The universe has. It’s opening yourself up for pain and hurt, just because you care a little too much. But the good things are so intensely necessary for our survival as a species that we take this risk. You cannot live in your head. You’re a whole person. And yeah, it’s terrifying and intensely difficult, but it’s better than living in ivory towers. The benefits I’ve reaped have been so worth it.

I am completely unsure of anything anymore. I don't know why we all have this severe existential angst, and I don't know why we keep believing in this idea of the American Dream when none of us want to, and I don’t know why I am the way I am, and I don't know why opening yourself up to the world's beauty and joy might only hurt you in the end. These are the questions I've faced for the last year, and they have been crippling.

But then there are some days when everything is raw and beautiful and the color of the sky just draws you up with its depth and you know your sad stories are intimately connected with your happy stories and you tilt your face up to the sun and feel the earth strong beneath your feet and it's just good and pure and real. That's all I've been looking for in these times. There’s always going to be this existential angst and there’s always going to be some dissatisfaction, but these are the days where the whale won’t attack, because for now, it’s out of reach. For a moment, it’s good.

It's not perfect, but it never is. That’s the point. That’s what being human means. It means accepting that not being in control is okay and that your emotions can’t be ignored. It means that your existential angst can be managed with some cathartic talks or by just listening to the world around you brimming with life and meaning. It means that the data might not always fit the curve, but that doesn’t mean you discard it. It means that governments are made by men, for men, and thus can be flawed. It means a deeper understanding of your place in the cosmos.

And I only hope to say that by accepting both of these parts of me, I’m on the road to almost getting it kind of together. And that’s all I need right now.

So, um, yeah. I think I got it but I can never tell.

I am seriously so thrilled with what BEDA's turned out this year. It's been a helluva ride, but it's been worth it. I appreciate everyone who's made an appearance on here, everyone who's been there for me in my darker nights, everyone who's seen me on my bright days and made them even brighter with your presence. Thank you so much for the compliments. I'm happy I'm not just shouting at a brick wall and that you read this wordbarf I insist on putting on the internets year after year.

I'll just tell one more story.

When I was twelve years old, when the world made more sense, I decided that I was going to be a writer. This led to seven books (all of which were horrific), countless short stories, a few angsty musings of a teenager trying to figure out life, and the beginnings of novels that never made it past the first twenty typed pages—all for a combined total of around 40,000 pages (a rough estimate that's honestly pretty accurate). I wanted to write at first for the fame and the fortune that would surely result from such a tiny lass turning out so many pages. I thought I could, at the very least, put myself through college with these revenues.

But over the years, it evolved into something else entirely. It became my best way comprehend the stupid situations I get myself into, the best way for me to understand the world, the best way for me to convey the ideas that make up me and for me to breach the gaps to the universals and connect with the human experience. It's made me a better human being, this writing. It's made me this person that can shout into a void and never stop hoping for an answer back.

I never expect an answer back, but I've heard a lot of feedback this year, from all of my writing, and it's so inspiring for me to keep going. You have no idea how much it means to me. To know that all of these stupid musings from an optimistic cynic mean something to at least a few people in this world. That's all that any literature is trying to get across—a story about what it means to be human.

So I just want to say thank you for putting up with my shit, and for making me a better person, and for helping me through the rough times and making the good times even better. Thank you for giving this hopeless wanderer a place to rest her head. Thank you for telling me that it's going to be okay. I can't tell you how much I love you all. Sometimes, like I said, it feels like my chest is cracking open and I'm filled with everything at once and it's just so fucking beautiful that the bad times don't seem so bad.

And I guess I'm going to always be looking for that.

In other news, I'm really excited for Iron Man on Friday, and I'm excited for this summer, and I'm excited for next year, and for the first time in a long time I'm looking forward to the future with bright and hopeful eyes. So thank you for that.

And I think that's all I have to say about that.

Until next April, thank you for reading :)

One More Day of Busy Nothings

Monday 29 April

I passed out doing this Norlin project, so I'm sorry for that or something.

Yesterday wasn't too bad as far as Mondays go. I woke up and went to physics, and Connor actually made it to class (which was nothing short of miraculous). Then I left early to go grab my lab notebook from Kitt (I know, I'm such a rebel, skipping out of class ten minutes early to get MORE HOMEWORK). Anyway. I was absolutely disgusting in Western Political Thought because of the heat, and I'm really sorry for that. But anyway we learned more about Tocqueville and how he can be applied to the modern era and that was pretty nifty and I even wrote up a lab. Multidisciplinary FTW. Anyway. Then came chemistry and Vaida talked about the Ozone Hole over Antarctica, and the combination of kinetics, gas laws, and policy formation was RIGHT up my alley. I want to do something like that—something fusing the two things I am turning out to love more than anything. I just get so excited when I think about something like that and I can't articulate it and just yeah. That's how I am.

Anyway. I grabbed lunch with Sam and Steph and quite frankly, I am really going to miss our Monday lunches where we all recount our crazy ass weekends to each other and then talk about chemistry. Because they've been really great friends this last year, especially when my life fell to pieces in October and they let me sit at lunch with them and complain about Calc III and quasi-relationship drama and were just there to listen when I needed to talk about the shitshow my life was. So yeah. They rock.

Then Steph and I headed to the LAST LAB OF THE YEAR! We did a reaction with Allura Red and hypochlorite (read: red dye and bleach) and tested concentrations and temperature effects. So that was fun and I'm kind of going to miss it, as tedious as it is. Granted, I'll probably be doing that for the rest of my life, and I'm okay with that.

Yeah. So then I went back to Kitt and changed out of the fucking jeans I had to wear for lab, and then I went and grabbed Crissie. We went to Victoria's Secret to use our Secret Rewards we got back in March, and I got a super cute bandeau top that I'll wear eventually or something. Then we went to Target and I got gum, Rockstar (which are $1 there if you want to look into that haha), and chocolate. I spent $9.47 there and told the cashier this was my second cheapest Target purchase and he just laughed at me. This is my life.

But we got back to campus (after I analyzed Crissie's dreams—I'm a regular Sigmund Freud) and grabbed dinner at the Grab and Go (where we saw Evan and had pictures on our pizza boxes, which were fun) and THEN we went to bake cookies! Hallett's kitchen still has their fucking heater on, which makes no sense to me whatsoever. But whatever. We taught a girl how to make quinoa, and Crissie made bunches of Pink Lemonade cookies as well as Funfetti ones.

After that I did CAPA with Binder, and that was the fastest we've ever done that in our lives (sans three problems which we're doing tonight or something). Then I walked back to Kitt with Crissie, who was going to see Johnny because he got food poisoning (feel better, Johnny!) and kind of worked for awhile before my need for sleep overwhelmed my need to get shit done.

So yeah. It was another day of busy nothings, but I'm just left with this tangible sense that things are ending. And it's weird. I don't know if it's because LAST year was such a drastic ending, but it's meaning more to me this year. I know I'll come back in the fall and have the same friends I've made this year and have some of the same conversations and I get to live with the people I love the most and some things might not change, but it's still just going to be so different. I don't know if that's me just being existential, but these moments are never going to come again, and I'm so sad about that.

Because amongst all of the crap that's happened in April, and all of the crap that I've had to clean up in the last nine months of being a Buff, these human moments have kept me going. Not doing homework. Not going to class. Human moments.

And I think that's the key. Because I've been a nerd my whole life. And you'd think that would make my college career flourish, but it doesn't. You have to be a person, a whole person, with all of the darker emotions and angst and the joy and the hope and the fragility that comes with it. You have to let the world in.

And I know this isn't completely real life, but it's the closest I've been to having life happen to me. This is the first year I've been outside my head and really experiencing the full kaleidoscope of life. You know? Good.

Alright. I have to get my poop in a group to face the day right now, so I'll just see you later today.

As always, thanks for reading :)

I Think I've Finally Found Some Solid Ground.

Sunday 28 April

So yeah. I woke up this morning, wrote a blog, hiked with my mom and Karen, talked with my Hallett friends, and ended back in Smith. Like a boss.

I'm at a loss of what to say today. Most of the important stuff happened yesterday. Yeah.

So I'm just going to say things that are good lately.


I love to hike. It's the fucking best.

I'm glad my mom buys me dinner and I can talk to her about my life and be completely honest with her, because she's put up with a lot of shit from me over the years, even if it is just a messy room or a weekend at a dance competition or late nights from Stage Crew.

I'm happy that my parents are managing together. They worry me sometimes that they won't actually make it through the next storm—profoundly so—but somehow they always make it, and I'm so grateful for that.

I love my best friend Crissie more than anything in the world and I would be infinitely more lost on this planet if it wasn't for her. I like her more than pizza. And I REALLY like pizza.

I'm happy I have a safe zone on campus where I can break down or have fun without any judgments. The fact that the Brackett clan exists is essential to my well being, mental health, and general awesomeness.

Denny's is the greatest. Some of my best memories are coming from that stupid diner.

I fucking love my majors. I'm seriously so happy I've stuck with them chemistry because it's fascinating and I'm glad I'm doing political science even though everyone told me not to, because it's so wonderful.

My brother and sister have been the most important people to me for all the years they have been on the planet, and sometimes I worry about the two of them. But Mason's going to prom and I'm so fucking excited for him and Ellie scored two goals in her soccer game and won the game for her team and I'm so fucking excited for her too.

Nature is so awesome. Literally, it fills me with awe.

I'm so SO excited to see Iron Man 3 this Friday. I can't even tell you.

I'm so stoked for summer where I can sit on my ass and get paid to read quality literature.

People suck sometimes, but there are a few that can make me smile no matter what and they seriously don't even know how hopeful that makes me for the future.

I am so happy I'm in Boulder, because I would have been a mess if I was anywhere else with anyone else. I'm going to be really sad to move on from some of the people I've met this year. Transience kind of sucks.

I'm not sure I want to tramp a perpetual journey anymore. Because for the first time in my life I am starting to believe that I'm standing on solid ground and I'm beginning to put down roots.

I've been breakable lately, but I'm learning how to not completely shatter anymore.


So yeah. These are some good things, and I needed a minute to just sit back and appreciate those. We all do. Because there is so much good and so much beauty, and the only way we're ever going to cope with existential angst and mental breakdowns is if we hold onto these.

I'm going to sleep now.

Thanks for reading :)

Almost Getting It Kind of Together

Saturday 27 April

I just am going to preface this by saying that I had a great day yesterday and that everything seems more raw, yet also more real and more beautiful.

Yeah. I woke up in Brackett and was vaguely confused as to why that was the case again, until the events of Friday night hit me like a train. I woke with puffy eyes, a headache, knotted hair, and an overwhelming need to pee.

Anyway. I took care of all that jazz and after Davis and Dani left for breakfast, Evan turned to me and said seriously, "What's going on?"

So I just talked for awhile about how I'm so tired of being tired and I'm sick of a lot of things and yet, I love my majors and I love this place and these people and how I'm worried about people and how this blog is keeping me going. And then I asked him what's up and I just let him talk about everything. We somehow got on the subject of how people are worried about us especially, and I've been starting to think that it's because people are finally seeing the cracks in that image of perfection we have cultivated over these years. And I'm seriously so happy to get to sit down and talk about how we feel like frauds and how we're actually so goddamn breakable after all we've been through. We then made this pact that we can lie to everyone else, but we'll be honest with each other. And I think we both need that. We need people to hang onto in this shitstorm.

So yeah. It was a good talk. Then Davis and Dani came back and they played the "Walk of Shame" song by Jimmy Fallon for Dani and I since we seem to do that a lot. So then we just watched Jimmy Fallon and I seriously want to be his best friend. He seems like a really cool dude that you could like kick back with and have a couple of beers and sit and talk and laugh with. It'd be fun.

Yeah. So then I went to breakfast with Evan and Noah and that was wonderful. I also must request that the C4C put a bin of ONLY PINEAPPLE out, because the honeydew and the cantaloupe are usually really sketchy and basically just shitty. Also, you just need better fruit. I can count on one hand the number of times I've eaten an apple and actually felt good about it. So yeah. Get on that, Housing and Dining Services.

Then I went back to Kitt and showered and that was wonderful, and then I ended up going with my best friend Crissie to McDonald's because we both REALLY needed something fatty, fried, and greasy. Those fries may or may not have been the greatest thing I've ever tasted. We swapped stories of our nights and mornings post-breakdowns, and she said that Johnny was experiencing some existential angst too, and I think that it is downright awful that all of these bright young individuals I hang out are so goddamn disappointed about what the fruits of life are bearing. I don't know why we feel this way. I don't know if it is the culture up here or if it is the modern life dilemma or if it means that the American Dream dies with us, because our future looks so bleak and the present isn't giving us anything to reconcile with.

I also really like the fact that Crissie and Johnny are together. They both seem so much better because of each other and I am real proud that she picked such a quality guy that really cares about her, because I care about that girl more than I can possibly say.

So then we got onto Farrand Field and soaked up the sun with Poppy, Morgan, Mora, and Dan, and that was pretty fun. It got cold, though, so we went to Hallett and I took a nap, and then I got a pizza from Weather Tech and it was SO FREAKING AWESOME. And yeah, I ate a whole pizza to myself. Every pizza is a personal pizza if you try hard and believe in yourself. And I do both of those things.

So yeah. Then I went back to Smith and fucking watched Captain America, because that is the only thing I've really wanted to do this whole fucking week. I love Cap. And even though I think Tony Stark is a total badass, Cap has more heart, and I think that's why he's my favorite. Okay. I'm nerd-rambling again.

After that, Connor texted me and invited me over to Brackett, so naturally, I called up Crissie and said, "We're going to Brackett, grab your shit and let's go!" So that ended up happening, and we sat in Connor's room for awhile, and talked with people in there. I saw Sierra and she seemed like she was having a better night and that was good for her because I was concerned for her. So then we talked in the hallway about the better aspects of last night and the Hallett clan and that was fun.

At one point I discovered we were over there to celebrate Ramadonna*, and so THAT made a lot more sense. Finally Donna arrived and we got the ACTUAL party started. Evan made speeches and we talked and shared stories about life like we do. I ended up becoming Anna's Smith Friend, and talked more with Donna, and with Graham and Evan and Connor and Anthony (about existentialism—yeah, we're fucking cool) and Flock and Christine about Leopard Dreams**. I called Josh at one point and he's coming back on the 9th from Arizona, and I'm so happy because I miss that kid more than possibly anyone. We also called Zach, who's ALSO coming back the ninth, and I'm also so excited to see him again, because we usually have a Pretty Great Time together.

So THEN Graham, Connor, Donna, Joe, Evan, Sierra and I got to go to fucking Denny's and I was SO HAPPY because shitty breakfast food on a Saturday night is all I want from life. Like really. The walk was a little treacherous because Evan kept threatening to wander off and then everyone else was just really scattered and random, and that was pretty interesting. But we got there and we talked more and Donna fit a whole goddamn pancake in her mouth which was nothing short of amazing. We walked back to Smith and ended up in a penguin huddle in the middle of the sidewalk at one point, and it was wonderful. I got back inside and passed out.

At one point last night, everyone else around me was in a conversation with someone else, and I was just sitting there listening to everyone talk, and it was wonderful. I love to listen. I'm a bit of a wallflower, but there are some perks to it, you know? Last night I just sat around and stared at all of the people there that I have come to care deeply about and have experienced so much with that I never could have done on my own. They all just talked and laughed and seemed alive and happy for one close to perfect moment. And I don't know. Somehow it makes all the hell bearable. These almost perfect moments where you really can just sit and be. 

I am completely unsure of anything anymore. I don't know why all of us are so sad, and I don't know why we all have this severe existential angst, and I don't know why we make the decisions we do, and I don't know why we keep believing in this idea of the American Dream when none of us want to, and I don't know why opening yourself up to the world's beauty and joy might only hurt you in the end, and I don't know who or what I am most days. These are the questions I've faced for the last year, and they have been crippling.

But then comes a day like today—when everything is raw and beautiful and the color of the sky just draws you up with its depth and you know your sad stories are intimately connected with your happy stories and you tilt your face up to the sun and feel the earth strong beneath your feet and it's just good and pure and real. That's all I've been looking for in these times.

So I just want to let you know that I'm okay. It's not perfect, but it never is. I'm alive and I'm learning how to be human. I'm learning that breaking is okay, and that I can pick myself up when I need to. I'm almost getting it kind of together.

Okay. I'm sorry this was so fucking long. I just really needed to sit and understand this, because writing is and always has been the best way for me to process this batshit crazy ride we call life.

Thanks for reading :)

*my friends are awesome. Fake holidays rock.
**euphemism