A few thoughts you don't want to hear

Because it's a blog, people. I use it to air my biased, ill-formed opinions on an innocent world. That's how this deal works, yo.

It won't come as any surprise that I don't swing right, and don't have any respect for Palin as a legitimate political figure. And her reactions to this whole thing have done nothing to sway my opinion. Although, can we just take a second and realize that while the use of the term "blood-libel" was ill-judged, calling Palin anti-Semitic for that is just a tad far-fetched. I mean, come on, does anyone honestly believe she knew what the term meant? Let's not start overestimating her intelligence here, people.

Actually, let's take more than a moment to disect this "blood-libel" anti-semite moment. Because, by golly, it's bothering me. I will totally get behind the idea that it was innappropriate, but this reaction to it has a nauseating familiarity. Taking one small detail and using it to caricature someone into a horrible, anti-semitic, anti-american, satanic messenger of evil? Who does this sort of reaction remind us of, students? Hint: rhymes with Then Heck!

Honestly, children, the last thing we need is to start modeling ourselves on that type of reaction. Speaking of reactions, there were two that pretty much summed it up for me. One was Jon Stewart's opening for the Daily Show on Monday. If you haven't yet, I recommend watching it. And don't worry, it's safe for conservatives and liberals both.

The second was this dude. Because you know, when he is off he can be pretty off. But when he is on? He is awesome.

Finis et Principii

Alas, dear ones, January 6th has come. Which means, of course, that with the Feast of the Epiphany today, Christmas must finally come to a close. And you all knew that, of course. None of you have been guilty of cutting the season off early, or (heinous thought indeed!) taking the Christmas tree down on January first! January 1st, my dears, can you imagine? Why, that is only the seventh day of Christmas. Imagine, cutting off the season before the full twelve days have passed! Unthinkable, my dears. But you knew that, didn't you? Yes, of course you did. And that, my lovelies, is why are are such close friends.

Ahem, as I was saying, Christmas is now ended. One always knows, when setting up the tree and stringing the lights and finally turning up the volume on the Christmas tunes you have been listening to since September, that someday it must all come down. And that day, my friends, is today. Or possibly next week. Or sometime in February. Listen, I don't like to push these things, ok? I try to have it all packed away by Valentine's Day but don't rush me!

So, here we are. 2011. And I must say, so far it's been quite pleasant. Some of you may remember last year's resolution post wherein I described the difficulty and inherent silliness of New Year's Resolutions. And if you do remember that, well, you are obviously clogging your brain with irrelevancies and should probably knock it off. And if not, then I have just reminded you. So we are all on the same page. Excellent. Let's begin.

Despite my vague antipathy to year-long resolutions, since discovering "self-parenting" I've developed a good relationship with goals and the setting thereof. This year I've set a goal with Mr. Awesome to spend at least an hour a week doing something active together. Since we set this goal halfway through our weekend hike through the woods, it feels not only doable but natural. And when the weather is good we're a pretty active couple anyway. So this isn't a goal to really start something new so much as to be more consistent about something we already do. Also, instead of a boring (and ultimately useless) "exercise more" goal, this one has the benefit of actually being fun. Hiking, ice-skating, swing-dancing, biking, kayaking, fencing, and all the things we already do for fun, only now we get to pat ourselves on the back for doing it. So basically, our goal is to be proud of ourselves for doing what we already do. Nice.

For myself, I'm sticking with last years "lifely" goal of eating fresh produce, and I even got a shiny new veggie cookbook to help out. (Can you say steamed artichoke? Yes, yes please.) Also I'm going to spend less on books (good luck, now that I have a kindle and the ability to download books anytime, anywhere.). Truly we live in a day of instant temptation and fulfillment. Now if you'll excuse me, there are three new books positively screaming to be read on my Kindle. Adieu, dear ones, may this season-leading-up-to-Christmas be as fulfilling and productive as last year was.

Fa-la-la-la-la

I don't post as often as I used to. But let's not get greedy, people. 'Tis the season and all.

Speaking of, can we talk about that whole "Tis the Season" nonsense? I see that phrase everywhere these days "Tis the Season...to save big at (insert store name here)", "Tis the Season...for a McCafe!"

No. No it isn't. Stop using that phrase!

Meanwhile, have I mentioned that we've been called to serve in the Nursery? Yes, that's right. Undeniable proof that somebody up there hates us. And the thing is, I really do want to believe that some day (some far, far day) I will want children of my own. Spending time with other people's little bundles of joy makes me want children sooooo much less (if that's possible). Because I can only desire to want children in the abstract. When faced with the reality of what children are, I am forced to admit that I want no part of it. It's like my goal to one day climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. Sure, it sounds exotic and fun, but do I really want to train for weeks beforehand just so that I can sweat and choke and heave myself up some dumb rock? No, not really. But you know what? I'd enjoy that scenario a whole lot more than I would ever enjoy giving birth to a parasite that will spend the next 18 years sucking the life out of me.

Which brings us to the fact that my sister is pregnant with twins. It's one thing to have another human being living inside of you, but two? Two whole other people chillax'in in your abdomen? Holy. Rusted. Metal. Batman.


So, to sum up: Congrats to my sister and a big fat I-am-so-incredibly-sorry-for-whatever-I-did-to-deserve-this to whoever decided I should spend 2 hours a week surrounded by small children.

Amen.

In which I convince you that I truly am in need of medication.

Okay, so it's still a little weird to me that I'm married. I blame movies. And vivid dreams.

It's like when you watch a movie or have a particularly clear dream and you wake up the next day thinking it was real (or at least some parts of it were real) and then you have that quick realization that no, you are not actually a CIA agent in disguise (and thank heavens for that, because I would totally suck at that job). Well, I keep doing that with the whole "husband" thing. Only it turns out it is real. So it's like this twisted cycle of "Hey, I think I'm married...oh no, that was just a dream, silly me...uhhh, was it a dream? I think I did get married...woah, vivid dream again...why is there a man in my bed?!?!"

Honestly, it's tripping me out. I've been looping this cycle for over two months now. When does it end????

In other news, I had this wicked rad dream the other night wherein I had re-discovered my ability to fly and my husband was very supportive of my new skill set. Only I knew it was a dream because of the whole "husband" part. I mean, me married? That'd be soooo weird.

Standardized Anxiety

Watching me preparing to take any standardized test must be like watching someone the morning of their execution. Because, of course, this test is not merely a measure of my test-taking skills, it is an accurate and unquestionable measure of my worth as a human being. If I do not do well, the world will not end. I will die, of course, but the world will not end.

Deep down I know none of this is true, but for about twenty four hours this sort of lunacy bubbles just under the surface of my frail, silent, terrified sanity. I try chasing it away with self affirmation, but I'm so much better at sarcasm. Occasionally I can drown it in copious amounts of orange soda. Why orange soda, you ask? I honestly have no idea. But thanks for asking. This time I cried on my husband's shoulder while he affectionately told me that I am, in fact, totally insane. It worked pretty well, actually.

But anyway, I passed the GRE. Or, more accurately, I laid that sucker over my knee and spanked it.

Pity Anthro programs care so little about GRE scores.

This picture looks much cooler on my phone than it does on this blog.

There is a pond on the Mall, a memorial of some kind--something about Daughters of the American Revolution I think--which I walk by most days at lunch. Also there are trees a changin' round here. Not all of them though, just some. And lampposts, which is a funny little word with a double P for no good reason.

Today was warmer than yesterday, but colder than I'd like. Only it's not so humid now, which means my hair looks nice.

What if I took a picture with my phone everyday, and then posted it here? Who would get bored first, you or me?

I'm betting on you, since I have a pretty good attention span. I'm not like those people who apologize for having short attention spans. Mostly because I think those people are just trying to find a more polite way to say "Your existence bores me to tears", and I'm just not that polite.

Where were we? Oh yeah, the picture-per-day idea. Well, I think it's pretty obvious that neither one of us cares whether that materializes or not.

Annnnnnnnnd....done.

The Lady Amalthea

Uuuuuuu-nicorn! Uuuuuu-nicorn!

Tell me you've seen that movie, please. Tell me I am not the only one who gets the sheer awesomeness of that freaky animation mixed with a soundtrack from America. I mean, come on people, "When the last moon is cast over the last crumbling mountain, and the last lion roars over the last dusty fountain..."

Honestly, why haven't more people seen and memorized this movie? How can a movie with a transvestite song ("Now that I'm a woman, everything has changed!") not be more widely loved? Ok, so it's not really a transvestite song so much as a ballad about a Unicorn being turned into a human girl by an inexperience magician trying to save her from the Redbull (no, not the drinkable kind, the giant bovine made of fire kind) who drove all the other Unicorn's into the sea so that King Haggard can watch them in the tide only now she is falling in love with a human man and forgetting what it's like to be a Unicorn and that's bad because only she can save the other unicorns!!!! This is EPIC people! SAVE THE UNICORNS!

Fact: My mother hid that movie from me for ten years because listening to me belt the lyrics to every song ("Look and see her, how she sparkles, it's the LAST UNICORN!!!!!") everyday for a year eventually began to wear away at her sanity and it was either separate me from that movie or kill me. Friends, there were days during the first few months when I wished she had gone with the latter rather than divide me from that magical VHS. Eventually I stopped looking for it, but I never forgot the words (not just to the songs, but to the entire movie). Then when I was 20 years old, perhaps thinking it would be safe now that I had finished more than a year in college and was living on my own, my mother brought it out of hiding. Actually, I think she had forgotten about it altogether and only accidentally stumbled upon it while packing up the house to move. And suddenly, there it was. The magical VHS that had for so long evaded my searching. The movie that had shaped the child I was and defined the woman I would become.  

The Last Unicorn.

And behold, the heavens did open and the walls did shake as, once again, at the top of my now considerably more powerful lungs I belted the words to that beloved song "In the distance hear the laughter of the LAST UNICORN! I'M ALIVE! I'M ALIIIIIIIIIIVE!!!" And behold, my mother did weep bitterly.

Anywho, I obviously now own that movie on DVD, (Special edition, Suckas!) and the day my now-husband agreed to watch it with me one Sunday afternoon was a defining point in our relationship. If you've ever wondered when it was that I knew he was the one for me, well folks, I'm pretty sure it was the moment he held me as we watched King Haggard's castle fall tumbling into the sea while hundreds of glittering unicorns came out of the water and rushed forth into the world again! (What can I say? My husband has the patience of a saint.)

But seriously, I know you've only read this far because you are waiting for that moral lesson to come out where I somehow tie this into something I learned in India and make it a microcosm for some big, philosophic idea in life. And don't worry, friends, I'm almost there.

Because you see, near the end when King Haggard has discovered the Lady Amalthea's true identity and the Redbull knows ("Molly, he knows! He knows!") that she is The Last Unicorn meant to be driven into captivity in the sea, there is this short scene with really bad dialogue (which matches the dialogue in the rest of the movie), in which Amalthea begs to stay human. "Don't let him change me!...Everything dies. I want to die when you die! I'm no unicorn, no magical creature! I'm human, and I love you....Lir, I will not love you when I'm a unicorn."And it sounds so familiar sometimes, doesn't it? "Please don't expect more of me! Don't ask me to do hard things, to be something greater than I am right now! Everybody gives up sometime; I want to give up too! I am happy as I am, and I'm afraid of wanting more."

No, this isn't about choosing career over love or never making compromises or the inevitability of death. It's about being afraid to accept your true potential because if you do, then it means you are capable of more than you are doing right now. It means you have no excuse for not doing great things. It means you'll have to make sacrifices and be brave and face up to your biggest fear. It means you'll have to turn around, look the Redbull in the eye, and fight back.

It means you have to apply to grad school again.

"She will remember your heart when men are fairy tales in books written by rabbits. Of all unicorns, she is the only one who knows what regret it - and love."