Theoretical Language

My brain to mouth filter has been on the fritz lately, especially in my romantic poetry class.

Of course, it doesn’t help much that people are constantly saying things that are so incredibly laughable. Things like, “Now, if we contemplate the subversive qualities of ‘worm’…” and “sure, I’d love to employ some scansion over here.” And they say these things and I burst out laughing and that’s really not the, uh, standard student of english response. Everyone takes themselves very very seriously. Especially the really annoying freshman who sits in the corner and says things like “when I was studying the French Revolution…” even though we all know that was in AP European history in high school, the taking of which doesn’t exactly qualify you as a scholar of the period.

Sometimes I just can’t take it. I mean, do these people listen to themselves? And, for that matter, do people who write criticism read their own stuff? Do they seriously read it and think that it makes some sort of sense? Because it doesn’t. The things that these people write are entirely dependant on what they, personally, think every word means, and if they get to redefine that all the time, then why are any of us reading it? If we have to have 20 minute debates over phrases, are these articles really accomplishing anythign? Aren’t they supposed to make things clearer, and not more confused? Is it suddenly not enough that poets can’t say what they mean? Do critics have to not say what they mean too?

The Grossest Thing I’ve Learned Today

Dear world,

They have buttered toast flavored jelly beans. That is possibly the grossest thing EVER.

Love,

m

angst is in the air

So, it seems that angst is in the air. I am having a totally angsty day, and now, at 2:51 am, I have officially decided to give in and wallow in the angst until I go to sleep and then when I wake up I will do laundry and be productive and be a good person again. But tonight, now, I’m all angsty.

See, all of my friends, and I DO mean all of them, are pairing off with each other and they’re all gooey and fuzzy and coupley and they’re just all bleeeeeegggghhhhh, And meanwhile, we have me, here with…well, let me tell you a story.

So, we have this thing here called Full Moon on the Quad (FMOTQ) where the general idea is that all the seniors and freshmen go to the quad on the first full moon of fall quarter, and at midnight, they all kiss each other, thereby making everyone proper Stanford students. However, in the years since its creation, this has devolved into “everyone go to the quad and make out” night. They have bands, and naked people and at midnight everyone makes out with everyone else and that’s just how it goes. Also, generally, I tend to end up, totally sober, following drunk people around, which sounds much worse than it is. This time, it was totally fun. So there I am, following Ph and AR (two girls, roommates, one a very old friend) around the quad. They’re actively seeking out the making out, and it’s fun and funny, and occasionally, I am, well, not saying no, to whoever’s not completely vacuum attached to Ph and AR’s lips (which isn’t many. they’re very popular ladies.).

Anyhow, the night’s fine, fun, even, and at the end of it, we’re all running out of th equad, trying to get rid of the really sketchy guys who’ve chosen AR and Ph and WILL NOT LEAVE, when we run into one of Ph’s first conquests of the night, a freshman from one of her classes, a small section. So we’re talking to him, and apparently, over the summer, he was kidnapped? In Peru? Which is very cool and crazy, and so I’m talking to him, and it’s interesting, and blah blah blah and we have the whole “where do you live? Oh, there. lovely. Charming” conversation, and then I start to walk away, and he says “wait,” and so I turn around and he goes “because it’s Full Moon?” and since it is full moon, and he’s very nice and all, I think what the hell, and I go back and kiss him and it is–not bad. And very, uh, thorough? Let it be known, this was not a courtesy kiss, not after passersby began to cheer, and he was clearly into it, and it was ALL HIS IDEA. I lay the blame squarely on his little twerpy freshman head. SQUARELY. But after all, it was Full Moon, and…yeah.

So, the next morning, armed with my incredible knowledge of his first name and residence, i set out on facebook to stalk, as is my wont. (Facebook is an incredibly source for stalking. INCREDIBLE.) And he’s not on facebook. Typical freshman move, neglecting the facebook. He’ll learn in time. And I’m right about that, because in a couple of days, he does. And I find him. And after some thinking about just exactly how crazy and stalkerish this makes me, I decide to friend him. And I do. And then I post on his wall, something generic:

Hi, welcome to facebook! It will now proceed to eat all of your free time!

This statement is true. It will eat all his time, if he’s worth his salt. It’s a fascinating stalker tool, how would it not eat all of your time? And so I wrote it, and he didn’t answer.

This is not surprising, I guess? It’s not a response required post. As you’ve probably figured out by this point, however, in classic Mary style, I’ve now developed something of a fixation on this internet interaction. I know. I know. The internet is bad. It’s really really addicting though. So I decide, at 2 am, that it would be a really and truly brilliant idea to invite him to join a group of us heading to the movies on Saturday night, to hang out and be normal movie going people and it’s not really an asking out, but it’s sort of leaning that way? I think? But anyhow I leave the classic, but if you’re not checking your email often, you might not see this, out for him. And I do understand how that would be a natural thing to do, to take the out. I would take the out. I would.

And, of course, he did. And so my weird, sketchy, sophomore self is a little miffed. I mean, I OUTRANK him. I deserve to outrank him. I worked hard for that! And…yeah. Miffed. Because he didn’t answer my totally creepy, stalker email.

And so all of my friends are gooey and delightfully dating each other and I’m here, miffed, blown off by a freshman. I’m a little…disgruntled tonight.

Beach Day

and this one has a pretty swirl of seaweed, originally uploaded by madcoolninjas.

Today, in honor of having no class, I went on a beach adventure. I drove to Muir beach, which is in the Golden Gate National Park. It was really pretty, if a bit grey, and I’ve put up some of my pictures, so head over to flickr and check them out!

Thoroughly tired of me

I finally got it to import my blogger entries! The next step is to add the (even older) livejournal entries, and finally have everything all in one place, but since I had to delete five extra copies of each blogger entry (I think because I was too dumb to get the really really really easy blogger importer to work the first five times), I’m a little tired of reading the titles of things I’ve written. So for now, even though the archives aren’t all linked out on the main page as they should be, enjoy the complete Garden, all in one gorgeous place.

New things?

I’m so tired of my blogger theme that not only have I changed it and moved the blog, but I’ve also started this one. I really like this best, but I can’t for the life of me get it to import posts, and I’ve got a TON of homework to do, so for now, this is it.

Economy Size

My roommate AD works for the SHPRC (Sexual Health Peer Resource Center) on campus. Most of her work so far involves giant economy sized bags of things. Last week she bought 3 HUGE bags of candy to take to the center, all of which currently reside in her closet, so I wasn’t shocked when she plunked down a full size garbage bag full of something in the corner of our living room a couple of days ago.

I didn’t even think about it until I came home last night to find the contents of the bag scattered on the floor. It turns out that our living room is currently the home of an entire GIANT GARBAGE BAG full of condoms (her boyfriend’s visiting from UCLA. I don’t even want to think about it. The sound effects were plenty, thank you very much.). We could single-handedly supply prophylactics to the entire dorm for at least a quarter. We could cut the birth rate in half. We could make an entire fleet of balloon animals. We could build an innovative inflatable raft. We could wallpaper the apartment.

Cause people, it is a LOT of condoms.