i feel dead today.

i hate my early twenties. i hope i still have some kind of access to this blog when i'm in my thirties, because when i try to look back on these years with fondness, i can read this and it will be more like a slap in the face than a caress. this time doesn't deserve to soften with time and then wax nostalgic.

the only thing i want to do is move on, and that seems to be the only thing i cant do. this morning i didn't want to wake up because i would have to start thinking again. i kept forcing myself to go back to sleep, because even though my dreams usually just end up being a reflection of waking turmoil, they are at least artistic. real life right now feels like fluorescent lighting and linoleum floors.

if you have a y chromosome, avoid me at all costs today

I used to preface rants like this with the phrase "I'm not a feminist, but..." I've decided I'm not going to do that anymore. Mainly because it is offensive to the
women of the past who gave up everything to get my slack-ass generation to the point where they could take things like equal rights and a career not involving pregnancy and housework for granted. So now I am going to go off on an unbridled, feminist rant. And no, I'm not on the rag, thank you for asking.

Normally I am able to take the injustice of the world in stride. I just remind myself that I am a pampered, middle-class white kid who has never had any significant struggles in her life, and am too ashamed to do too much complaining afterwards. However, lately I have been so struck by the load of the unfairness in other peoples' lives that it has been difficult to stop bitching about it. And by other people I actually am focusing on women, specifically.

We have all heard the complaints. Why should I be the one to give up my last name? Why is that douchebag with the striped bowtie making more money than me even though we do the exact same job? Why am I expected to give up my entire career and stay home with this little brat while his life remains completely unchanged? Blah blah blah.

These things annoy me, but I have learned to live with them. I realize that even though there is a lot of stuff that could be better, it is still arguably the best time in history to be a woman (speaking as an American, anyway). Progress is being made every day. I almost feel like I've been to the mountaintop or something--I can see true equality in the future, even if it isn't my future. And I am grateful for that.

But today when I was having breakfast in the hospital cafeteria, there was a tiny segment on the news about horse breeding and racing in Kentucky. In the segment they mentioned Eight Bells, the filly from last year's Kentucky Derby who was the projected winner, but ended up being euthanized after the race when she broke both of her front legs after being pushed to the absolute limit of her ability. She came in second to Big Brown.

And then I got really angry. With the world or something, I don't know. Because the sum of Eight Bells story was this: a female was shoved into a male's world and forced to compete on their terms, then was pushed so hard towards victory that she paid for it with her life. And then some dude won anyway.

All I'm saying is that life isn't fair.

i'm one of those people that likes to try and redeem themselves by acknowledging their own idiocy.

So I'm a little over halfway into the third Twilight book, Eclipse. And I've noticed something. It's something that has escaped my attention throughout the course of the first two books, something that should have been painfully obvious. Something that people have told me many a time, and I have ignored. And that something is this: Stephenie Meyer is a terrible writer. I mean, awful. And she spells her name dumbly, but let's stay on topic.

The weird thing is that even though I know this, and notice it every other sentence or so, I still am going to finish the book. And I still have trouble putting it down once I pick it up. And I still have every intention of reading the fourth one. What kind of trickery is this? I find it so amazing that an author is able to weave such a compelling tale of heartache and woe that I am willing to subtly torture myself for 629 pages in order to know the outcome. Someone should write a thesis paper on it. Unless of course, that someone is Stephenie Meyer, in which case please don't, I think you've done enough damage.

I think this guy sort of nails it on the head:
http://www.mibba.com/journals/read/97174/

Again, let me re-emphasize that I don't hate these books. I really like them. I just feel like an idiot for liking them.

the rainbow connection

I was reading a book one time, and there was a part where the main character Kate was in a generally depressed mood over something, and she was watching the Muppet Show and started bawling because Jim Henson died. I remember thinking it was so funny and cute at the time.

Well, I have been listening to The Eagle and the Hawk by John Denver all morning long (i'm in one of those moods where I can't get enough of a song and everyone around me has to suffer because of it), and a little while ago I suddenly was SO SAD that he died. Even though it happened when I was in like, the eighth grade, and at the time the only reason I cared was that my mom was very upset about it. Just listen to the song and I think you might understand why I feel like this. It makes you want to hang glide off of Mt. Everest.



And when I searched for an image to go with this blog, I stumbled upon this beaut. Full circle.

this is a lottery fantasy day

I was walking down Calhoun today and found myself envying the guys who were painting the windowsills of the Westin Francis Marion. Let me repeat--envious...of...windowsill painters. I don't think it's helping matters that even my boss made a comment the other day that he wished he could quit his job and work at Lowe's. And my dad wants to quit his job and move to Nebraska or some shit.

sometimes i feel like the only difference between a path of self-destruction and a quest for happiness is the outcome. i really wish i knew which one i was on right now.