My brain has finally figured out that the only way to convince me of its worth is to do amazing things that i have no control over. Last night it chose a dream. Not just any dream, but an epically long dream that wove together things that are present in all of my dreams into one neverending story that is still playing out somewhere in the back of my head right now. It was a dream that moved forward without pause… swapping genders of characters so they could have the same history but play a new part, inserting concise flashbacks to explain things that didn’t make sense the first time through, and augmenting anything that seemed like nonsense with tidbits of my actual life as supporting evidence. I could never explain the entire thing to you because it barely makes enough sense to me to appreciate it, but i definitely appreciate what i’m packing in-between my ears a lot more right now than i did 24hours ago.
And, on that note, i’m cutting all of my classes today.
off-topics
How many other people do you know that who wake up at 7:56 on the day class registration opens online, load up the class-add page at 7:59, click submit at 8:01, idly search for a sixth class but find that they’ve taken all of the ones that are offered, and are blissfully dreaming of their perfect winter schedule by 8:30?
Just wondering.
I was idly cleaning my room this morning in what was a vain attempt to finally distribute the last of my packed belongings from moving in last month when i ran across my notorious stash of condoms. To refresh the memory of those of you who didn’t read me way back when i had a whopping three visitors a day, i have a giant ziplock back of q-tips which conceals a sizable handful of condoms that i never spent money on and have never used. They don’t seem like the sort of thing i should throw away, so they’ve continued to live a blissfully undisturbed existence nestled in the depths of a multitude of cotton swabs.
In my haste to find these stalwarts of my bathroom collection a new home i perchanced to examine their shiny wrappers and, much to much chagrin, my abundance of free condoms all expire this month! So, seeing as there’s about a week left to go, i’m thinking their happy home in my apartment might very well be my bathroom trashcan. Actually, all of them were expired save for one, which is good until my 21st birthday.
Does your god send you messages about needing to get out of the house more through expirations dates on contraceptives? No? Just checking…
And, now that you’ve played witness to my multiple battles with social, sexual, gender, and body images, i’m off to be an honorary member of our all-female a capella group.
See, i love confusion :)
In Com Theory last week we touched upon Mead’s Theory of Symbolic Convergence, and one of the primary principals of it is the concept of the “Other,” which is the version of ourselves that we create based on society’s view of us. Without delving too deeply into the theory, basically when we refer to ourselves as “me” we are referring not to what we are, but what everyone else has labeled us as. And, in light of all of this, i just feel like i am in a constant power-struggle to keep “I” somewhere close to “me.” If you take that a step farther you could imply that people’s definitions of me inevitably reflect on my behaviour because i am either conforming to their expectations or trying to subvert them.
If you can’t see how fucked up it is for that to be imposed on a still-developing person for the entirety of their adolescence and young-adult life i’ll have to lend you my textbook sometime.