Night March



Last night, Devo and I went to the capital and met up with around 400 people to protest the civil war in Uganda, and the kidnapping of children to serve in the rebel army. I learned about the civil war and the march on Oprah, but she failed to mention that only teenagers were invited, so other than the few adult chaperones and parents, we were the only people there over 18.

We talked to no one, and tried our hardest not to be offended by all the incessant chattering and giggling. Quite a few stayed up all night, so that every time I turned over to try and get comfortable, which was frequently, I could hear them and I scowled. Lucky for them, my grimacing face was hidden inside my sleeping bag.

At one point, the group next to us, apparently from St. Francis although I don't know why they didn't just go to San Jose, were making fun of some girl at their school who is a midget but went to the prom with a "real" boy, and by that I assumed they meant of normal stature. Apparently, it is hysterical to contemplate dancing and who knows what else between a "real" boy and a ...fake? girl. Ha ha ha....ha. I actually didn't laugh. I tried to kill them with lazer beams from my eyes. I thought really hard about rolling over and saying something snotty, but I contained myself, for the sake of bringing peace to Uganda.

So to all my ex-students, don't be lemmings. I hate lemmings. Teenage lemmings give teenagers a bad name. Do good things because you believe in them and take them seriously. And maybe only go to protests where most people are adults, because they usually don't fall asleep giggling about midgets. Grr.

Closed Path

I thought that my voyage had come to its end
at the last limit of my power,
that the path before me was closed,
that provisions were exhausted
and the time come to take shelter in a silent obscurity.

But I find that thy will knows no end in me.
And when old words die out on the tongue,
new melodies break forth from the heart;
and where the old tracks are lost,
new country is revealed with its wonders.

--Tagore

Boys are all officially idiots when it comes to women. Even the smart ones. Even the nice ones. Just idiots. Seriously. What are they thinking? Perhaps that we are made of steel? Yes, that must be it

I just woke up from my evening nap after my midday bender. What were we thinking? I feel very odd, and now I am supposed to write my contracts outline. Meh.

I had an oddly non-offensive coversation with Mr. Darrow today. And Sam Swensen...Swanson? Sam. We talked about God and reincarnation, and the purpose of religions, and communism, and the correctional justice system. Yeah. I know! It was sorta cool. I was buzzed enough that it didn't really bother me how Matt kept spitting into a cup, yet I was still able to participate in the conversation. Sadly, Collin stayed out of the conversation. Maybe I am only intimidating to him. Maybe he sould be intimidated.

We went to a bar and drank some more. It was sort of lame. I'm pretty sure you're supposed to go to bars at night, but some people would not be persuaded.

I liked the conversation. It was my first like it in months. It'll be fun to talk to Sven when he comes. he likes to be deep, in a somewhat pretensious sort of way. Sigh.

I am listening to Brad Paisley right now. Love him. And avoiding work. I need to finish my outlines, but it's rough. I lack motivation. I need my car so I can go to Starbucks to study. I need my cats to pet. I need my clothes to miraculously put themselves away. And I need the sun to come back out so I can study in the quad, all by myself, because Manky and Devo have abandoned me for Brian and Bismark, respectively. Sad.

"I feel like it's raining you..."

"A revolution without dancing is a revolution not worth having."

Perhaps I am drinking too much. I'm no lush, mind you, but even at one drinking fest every 2 weeks or so I am drinking more than I have in my whole life. I seem to end up in odd situations, but then I leave and nothing bad comes of it. Collin is sort of making me crazy, but I think I like it. At the very least, my stress level is low. I might fail out, but I'll be relaxed as I do it. Stephanie thinks Collin is making me too crazy and we shouldn't hang out with him anymore. I say, that will come on it's own soon enough, so why not enjoy being a little crazy? She's just jealous because she's never seen James Bond and so she couldn't participate in our conversation. I say, welcome to my world Baby!


If Stephanie drops out I am doomed. I will have no one to hang out with, or to study with, or to give me notes when I miss class, or to drive me around for 2 weeks when my tire is flat, or to push me into awkward situations with boys and then haul me back out. So I guess I'll just have to make sure she does well on her exams so she isn't tempted to ditch me.

Not quite the most embarassing day of my life, but pretty damn close.

So, today, after much effort, I left the house in a skirt that came to my knee for the first time since I was in middle school. No joke. This took courage, and I felt very self conscious, but people were supportive. My fake tan made my feet look a little splotchy, but all in all I felt that things were going well. It is at this point in my story that I would like to make two important points:

1. God knows when your pride is getting a little out of hand, and at least in my case, periodically likes to spend a week or so flicking me in the back of the head as punishment.

2. I am telling this story because it is so embarrasing that I still want to curl up in a ball and cry, and in fact nearly did in class today, but I strongly believe that putting it out there will take away it's power to harm me...eventually...in a few hundred years.

So on the lawn today, sitting in the glorious sun with my friends, trying very hard to be comfortable even though I am rarely comfortable in any position for more than 1 minute, Manky informed me that I had flashed her. And then I did it again. And again. And I laughed and blushed, and played along, but I was pretty embarassed and remebering why I like pants so much. But really, I was among friends, and i knew I didn't flash her like a homeless guy in Oak Park or a hooker, so it was all good.

But then, because God could see that I was still needing a little more, he really got me. I went to the restroom, and when I came out, this chick, potentially an enemy, or at least someone who has every reason to want to tell the world, had to pull my skirt out of my supportive girl boxer briefs. And um, well, I just didn't know what to say, so I said sorry, even though I meant thank you, and I was sort of dizzy and wobbly from the shock of the whole thing. And I was thinking about how I will probably not wear another knee length skirt for another 15 years after that moment. And then I skurried out of the bathroom.

And there was Collin standing outside. I raced by and did my best too look invisible as I sat down in class, and then it occurred to me that had she not been there at that moment to notice, I would have walked out of the bathroom and turned my back to Collin with my butt showing, and he, being a mute would have said nothing, and I would have walked into class with my butt showing, and everyone would have cracked up, and I would have burst into tears, grabbed my shit and run home, and officially stopped going to class for the semester, maybe forever. Then it occured to me that in all likelihood, she had probably run over to her friends, who were sitting outside within a few feet of Collin, and told them the whole story, and so he probably knows anyway.

And then, my computer lost all my word files and I had to handwrite my notes for the rest of class. I found them later but, I spent an hour and a half in class not knowing, and quite frankly, I have no idea what the professor said during that whole time.

So Stephanie, that's what was wrong, and why I didn't say anything, and why I will absolutely die if it comes up in public EVER!!! Except for the people who read this blog, because I wanted to save you the embarassment of having a moment like this. NEVER... EVER... wear knee length skirts unless you practice at home first. And probably not even after that. They're dangeous, especially if God is mad at you.

By the way, I take it back. This was the most embarassing day of my whole life up til now.

So today, Manky told me that Watson, this irritating jerk in our section, was IMing shit about Stephanie to the girl who sits next to her. So, apparently overcome by...perhaps hormones or stress, I called him on it. Problem was, I hand't actually talked to Stephanie so I didn't have enough of the details to call his bluff when he said it wasn't him. I am actually disturbed by how good a liar he is. So anyway, he came out and made me appologize, which I did half-heartedly because I know what a dick he is. And then I got the rest of the facts from Stephanie, and it absolutely was him, so WTF? I wasted a perfectly good confrontational attack by striking too soon. Boy and girls, don't make this same mistake when your moment reveals itself. And the bad part is that he's gonna talk shit about me, and everyone will believe him because he's so good at being a liar. But then, maybe he'll just talk shit with the girls he was already talking shit to, and their opinions mean nothing to me. Hmm. Clearly there is a reason i stopped being such a hot head in high school. Ah well. Maybe they'll forget over the summer.

Alright, alright. I did get the paper done in time. It was rough there for a while, but this morning the old Mira who actually has a wee bit of writing skill came back to life, and dare i say it, she even had a bit of fun crafting what is hopefully a reasonably decent paper.

I promptly called my parents, who applauded my victory and cheered my name. I could almost feel confetti falling from the...ok, there was not confetti. I said I actually sort of thought it was a decent paper, like I might get another B on it, and they said, "Who knows. Maybe you'll get an A" reminding me to think positively. And I thought, no, that is unlikely, but how cool anyway. We chatted about Easter and getting things done, and then we sent each other love before saying goodbye.

I wanted to celebrate. I wanted thai food and to spend some time with Stephanie as a reward for our hard work. But alas, her dad had, in an effort to wish her a happy Easter, instead made her feel stupid and fat and meaningless because she isn't married yet. (Stephanie is 22, soooo not stupid, and not fat. I'd love to look like her). Seriously! "Happy Fucking Easter, Sweety. By the way, when are you coming home to visit us?" And even though it reminder to be greatdul for my parents, it really didn't feel great, because one of my friends had just been smushed like a bug by her own dad. Not just smushed; stepped on and then ground into infinitely small particles of unidentifiable bug dust. Prospective parents should definitely have to go to school and take a test. Good intentions are clearly not enough.

I just pulled some warm cranberry orange muffins out of the oven. You'll note it is nearly midnight, but hey, I'm gonna be up for hours. Before that I taped all these pictures and cards up to remind me of my friends, but the tape I used was clearly not up for the job, and so every few minutes, something falls off the wall and joins the pile of decorative rubble on the floor. They mock me.

Manky is similarly struggling to stay focused as she works on her paper. We are all posting on each other's blogs as a means of distraction. I am keeping the soothing, non-distracting music going so I don't go completely mad, but I am not sure it's working.

Rani-gato is running around on the couch because I can't handle her jumping on the keyboard and peeing on my research. Shes probably thinking that I a a horrible mom, and that I should have bought her a friend back when I thought about it.

The good news is that I have made some progress on my paper. I have 4 pages. I know that at least two of the paragraphs are ok, mostly because I futsed around with them for two days. The rest could be crap, but I am going to put off proof-reading until I have made more headway. That might be too depressing.

Whoa is me.

At the rate I am going, the world's glaciers will have completely melted before I finish this paper. I so long to be done, but I want to do a decent job, but I need a draft so I have something to edit, but I am discuouraged by my lack of progress, which in turn prevents me from making more progress so that i can have a draft. It's a vicious circle.

Perhaps not all boys are the devil, but they certainly cause trouble. Stephanie says I have major cajones because I confronted Collin, but really, I feel that my sanity was worth a few minutes of extreme terror. It's true I nearly passed out on the way to his door, but now I feel calmer than I have in 48 hours. I am not sure I really know a lot more than I did, but I feel more comfortable saying he isn't a complete ass. He even wanted to make sure that I wasn't mad at him for last night (long story), so I guess that means my opinion is of some importance to him. He is going to stay on campus next year if he get's to come back. Please let him get to come back.

The odds of anything coming of this are slim, but I keep reminding myself that even though things have never worked out for me in the past 28 years doesn't mean they never will. I mean, at some point one of them has to be the one, at least for a while... unless I am doomed to life as a spinster, which is distinctly possible.

Whoa is me.

Wouldn't it be amazing if men had more than one thing on their minds. Sigh.

No lie. I just had a normal conversation with Collin. I believe this was our second. Yesterday, he walked by and I actually didn't notice him until he was 10 feet away, whiich is practically unheard of, mostly because I am always in the process of waiting for him to walk by. Alas, he had to go to a meeting and couldn't stay and talk. But I considered even this admission a good sign because really, when does he ever stay and talk? Never when I am sitting here alone; he just says hi. So today, I saw him walk all over the place and had given up that he was going to head over my way, when suddenly he was next to me wanting to stop and chat. Clearly he is an optimist because we have never been any good at making normal conversation. My heart lept. So cute. And then we did it. We had a normal conversation where we talked about our friend Jose, who we are mutually concerned about (long story), and this led us to talk of social work and working with kids, and we even had a "Yah, me too!" moment about work. Quite frankly, I am amazed. I realized yesterday that while I hadn't completely given up on him, I was pretty confident that he and I weren't really meant to be more than acquaintances. After all, how many awkward moments can two people have before they just give up? Maybe what we have in common is persistence. Hurray for persistence!

I've decided to collect ineffective but humorous pick up lines that haven't yet become cliches. Here are some to start you off. Feel free to add.

I wanna have your baby, I mean, Hi. My name is (fill in the blank).

Let's have sex right now.

I like art.

One Pissed of Girl


I am so fed up with the way women are viewed in this country. I hate that if I raise my hand and get the answer right I am intimidating to men. I hate that If I am argumentative, I am intimidating to men. I hate that if I don't come across as easy, I am intimidating to men. Men clearly must be wimps if they can't handle a smart woman who can hold her own and doesn't feel the need to jump into bed in order to get a date. Screw that, I say.

And why is it that the more degrees a woman has, the less likely she is to get married? Why is it that even though women outnumber men in law school, men severely outnumber them in the practice of law? Why is it that playing dumb actually attracts men? What the hell is wrong with this country?

Stephanie is very good at getting what she wants. She is going to be my campaign manager in the campaign to meet Michael Buble, keeping in mind, of course, that by meet, I don't mean corner him on the dance floor or play spin the bottle. I'm hoping for coffee and a conversation. I guess I do deserve my reputation as the reasonably prudent person.

Overloaded



It's 11:30 and I'm almost done with today's homework. I could scream. I haven't watched any tv or a movie. I've been good, but I'm still not done. Why do teachers all pile it on at the end of the semester when your resolve is nearly gone? I can't take much more of this.

For the record, I haven't watched more than 3 songs on that DVD since I brought it here. Leave me alone. He's the only man I have, albeit only digitally.

Just because...

Outlining Break

I went grocery shopping and locked myself out of my apartment earlier today. Unbelievably, Jesse woke up when I called her and rescued me by calling security to let me back in. Then I put some nasty old lettuce down the drain to help limit the amount of trash I put into the landfills, and what should happen. It plugged the drain. Yes, yes it did. And so I had this mysterious green, black, brown colored water with little bits of ground up organic baby greens in it, sitting in my sink.

I have now hidden Rani/Gato so that maintanance won't find her and evict me when they come to check the sink, unless, of course, they have to go the bathroom, but I'm gonna just pretend we're safe.

I took a nap and dreamed about everyone I know getting this nasty, deadly influenza virus, and that Stephanie and I were being stalked by scary people in the street and my apartment building. I am pretty sure this is the outlet for my stress.

But, my civ pro outline is coming along (I just finished January). I took much better notes this semester so I get to do a lot more cutting and pasting, rather than writing the whole damn thing from scratch. This, at least, is cause for smiles. And since my dad got me this really huge, beautiful monitor and a kickin' speaker set with subwoofer for my ipod, I can actually see my outlines as I work on them, and listen to MB sing to me sweetly. It's actually almost better than Starbucks except I am afraid to use the sink, and all the food is free so I have nothing but willpower to keep myself from eating as a break.

As I was outlining I found this little note to myself in my notes. I just thought I'd let you know that I get bored in class too.

"I hate this class. It drives me nuts. All he does is talk, talk, talk. And we never get anywhere. It might be better if all the talking actually helped us, but at some point he’s said all he’s gonna say and it just becomes repetitive and redundant.

Professor Galves
President of the Department of Redundancy Department"

;-) Ciao!