Stop Fucking with The Kids

Is the only way I can describe it.

Look, I don't like kids that much. I like babies even less. I can tolerate them now but thanks to some teething incidents I had when I was a kid, I just do not like kids. I have not since I was one myself. I like plants. When my maternal instinct kicks in, I buy a new one.

BUT

That doesn't mean I want to see them suffer. Kids that is.

I seem to be the only one who remembers I was a fucking child once, and the memory of my child hood is still very fresh in my mind.

When I tutor, I treat my kids as equals more or less. I do not speak down to them. I treat them like damn human beings and try to set an example for my peers to do the same. It's been proven that children are no where near as stupid as we, adults, would like to think they are.

They make mistakes. They're young. They need guidance, but they don't need to be screwed over. Let's take it from the top with the educational system.

This story pissed me off so badly I honestly could not see straight for a few minutes. This child was bullied daily, being taunted with anti-gay slurs even though he was 11 and even though he did not identify as gay. This child hanged himself over daily abuse despite his mother's pleas for the school to do something. If the school did, it proved woefully uneffective.

The thing is, this isn't the first child suicide over bullying we've heard about, is it. There have been FOUR this year according to the GLSEN article, middle school aged children. Fucking middle school when things are at such a critical stage. What are you, about 11-14 now for middle school I think. This child will never see his 12th birthday for being taunted by his peers over a perceived orientation. He was different and that's all the kids needed.

Bullying is a part of the school experience you may say, it builds character, teaches kids about the real world and what not and toughens them up. Alright, tell that to the young lives that have been snuffed out because their voices were ignored. Tough enough for you, now?

Children are cruel, but it's foolish to think that they come out of the womb screaming "fag!" and "dyke!" and "omg fatso!"

No, it's fucking us, man. Directly or indirectly, children learn from us. They learn from the outside. They. LEARN. Intolerance. You can have a personality but kids, I do not believe, are seldom born to be a bully. That's not it. That's passing off blame to shit we don't understand therefore absolving US of any guilt but fuck that, it's US.

I was bullied quite often as a child for being overweight and not the prettiest, and this seems to be commonplace in childhood. And I can only speak from my experience but my teachers seldom did anything about it. You could almost say they had just given up--because bullying occurs so often they figure kids will get over it. Well as we're finding out not all of them do.

And these are the same people who wonder why these kids are killing themselves because life is already too damn hard for them. You want to know why?

Check this out. A while ago, a month or so ago, there was a bill in TN that wanted to remove all teachings of any human sexuality outside of heterosexuality at ANY grade level. This would have effectively erased homosexuality from these kids' lives. I can't say if it actually got anywhere but I wouldn't doubt it since being afraid of TEH GAYNESS is what's in now.

Parents don't want their kids to learn about what is different. They teach the children, even if it's indirect, to mock what is different. So when someone doesn't act like you, look like you, you're bad. We don't want you. See where I'm going here?

I would go into how much I hate the images on TV with hyper-sexualized women, racism and other such bigotry but must I?

There's no guarantee that you'll just mysteriously get over a lifetime or torment, nor is there a guarantee that you'll just leave high school like "oh wow, all that shit I did? So lame. I'll be a good person from now on!" No. It doesn't always work like that. Hell I'd say rarely because I'm a misanthrope.

So, we teach the kids hate, they see hate, they hate, and...well, what DO we do about it, other than just assuming the kids will toughen up.

About that. Do none of these adults, these protectors & educators of our young, remember being kids? Or were their childhoods so idyllic that they can't possibly fathom the sort of abuse that goes on in schools? I digress...

What do we do? Stop fucking with the kids is what we should do. Stop not taking them seriously. Stop not believing them. Stop passing over cries for help. It's not that you're not doing all you can do with limited resources, money, and time, but think about what's at stake here. It's not your spare time & sanity, it's a child's fucking LIFE, man.

Let me get to the bottom real quick with the government and wrap this up--

Oh, about Wednesday night, I caught a special on HBO called Hard Times at Douglass, looking at the effects on the No Child Left Behind act on Frederick Douglass High in Baltimore. Yes, even the government is fucking with the kids for whatever reason (and the teachers let's not forget), because we know how well that improved education *coughitdidn'tcough* *coughitjustfuckedupthecurriculumand* *coughmadeithardercough* But the gubmint has been fucking with the kids for years, in all sorts of countries, what with child labor and insurance and what not. Yeeah, government doesn't seem to care bout the future much, go figure I guess.

No really though, stop fucking with the kids. I'm sure all your intentions are in the right place, and that's great! But you're fucking up and I'd like not to open my browser or look in my newspaper and hear about yet another child in danger or dead over things we should be getting our act together on, alright? Alright.

HARROWING REGISTRATION TALES

A little diversion for you all while I try to make smarty posts. This is how my day went.

Note: I use "bitch" a lot, more in reference to people that annoy me, not just women. Oh and copious blood.


So I hate undergarments when I sleep, usually, and the night before I chose to sleep in shorts and a purple t-shirt. That bit of info will become important later.

Friday, 10 AM. I wake up to the sound of someone typing on a keyboard, only to realize that I'm the only one in my room and it's actually just raining outside. Yay.

Figuring I wouldn't get to sleep anymore today, I wake up...and realize something important: I have to register for class at noon. Oh shit! Get on Gold Link and pull them classes up. I already had a fair idea of what I needed to take to get me credits & hours so I waste no time--

...except even as noon o'clock comes I still can't register. See, this has been happening for two days and no one has been able to tell me why. So I call the registrar again and they tell me that because I only have 18 earned hours (WTF?!) I have to go down to the advisement resource center and get cleared because of my developmental class. Keep in mind, I'd gotten cleared for those classes, oh, last month.

So wasting no time, at this point it's sunny outside but I grabbed my umbrella, put on some flip flops and left, angrily calling my mother & texting all the while. My period has started and I'm feeling squishy already, my back hurts and the last thing I want to do is walk up some damn stairs and shit.

I get to the Culp center and I ask the ladies at the ARC what the fuck I gotta do. They send me to the back. The girls in the back tell me to come back in an hour while one grabs my file--or so I think. Smoldering, I leave the office and go get me a paltry lunch and wait for these bitches to get it together. I walk to the 3rd floor to eat, then back down a ramp and decide I could sit in the library. It's a nice sunny, breezy day out but I'm having none of it as I'm desperately trying to keep blood from running down my legs and into my shoes. I don't really care, it's just that I have to pee every five minutes and that's a little annoying.

Exhausted, I wait in the coolness of the library, reclining in a soft chair and reading the Annotated Alice in Wonderland (need to check that out perhaps). It's easter so not a lot of people around for me to cuss out. About 1:30 I head back to the Culp and wait in the lobby a while longer, bleed on some seats, then bust back into the ARC center and head straight for the section I was at before, "undeclared" despite having a major.

Now here's where it gets fucked up. The lady I saw before--not one of the student workers--recognizes me and asks why I'm back, I say I still need to get advised. She's like "..." at me and goes to look for my file--I don't have one. Why? I'm developmental math only, so I need to go to my department (english) and see the folks there. Thing is, it's fucking 1:40 and I was supposed to have registered an hour and 40 minutes ago, I don't know who my adviser is this semester and with my aching lower back and cramping stomach THE LAST GODDAMN THING I WANT TO DO IS WALK 20 MINUTES TO BURLESON HALL WHEN YOU BITCHES JUST TOLD ME I COULD DO A WALK IN ADVISEMENT.

I didn't yell but I got testy as fuck, and eventually I met with an intern there who so happened to be in the English department as well, and she got me straightened out while I sat there in her nice comfy seat, probably bleeding on it all the while. Once all that drama was over, I texted and called in celebration and squishy-squished my bloody way back to my dorm room for a nap.

This is why I hate authority.

The Amurrrr'can Dream pt.1

Or, I'm Going to Try My Damnedest to Give Someone Nightmares

So, for the dreaded AmLit II class, I have to do a paper on the "american dream". Not so bad eh? I could write that in my sleep while skipping the George Carlin quotes and shit. Shame my professor wants to get all personal on a bitch.

You see, in addition to looking at works of literature and giving MY view of what the American Dream is, I also have to include...some of my family's history. That...changes things because, uh, I'm black. My family, both sides, are descended from slaves (as well as, you know, just oppressed minorities in general--except for that one english ancestor). Put my family history in it? That's going to be hard. But at the same time it will be wonderful.

See, it'd be too easy for me to just spew vitriol on how the American Dream is dead and we killed it, oh no. I can't imagine too many people would write that optimistic of a paper anyway, but look. My family never HAD an "american dream" and damn sure won't be/haven't attained it. We didn't sleep at night and dream of flags and apple pie (pie isn't american, fact!) and stocks and baseball or whatever that is they try to feed you.

My mother's big dream was to own a house, and now we do, and the mortgage is breaking her back. Not to mention we live in what you might call "the hood" what with drug activity all around us and our windows getting shot out and shit. You seeing it yet?

I re-read over the syllabus again and just had to laugh. The man's been teaching forever and a half so I doubt I'll say anything to shock him too much. He may even knock it down some points because that's just what he does--we never seem to meet eye to eye on interpretations, not because he's wrong and I'm right, but I never like his--but...I thought about it, and I said, I want to make it as bleak as possible. Because that's real. I'm getting my reference material and come the 24th I'm probably going to have the most fucked up psyche but I don't care.

Why so serious, you may wonder? Just because. You know my complaints with that class and a couple of days ago I just finally hit the last straw--I'll tell you about that probably later on today--and this might be the last thing for me to express all my discontent under the guise of hating America.

We'll see how it goes...

ETSU's great race survey

Blogging from school everyone. Shh, I can't afford to be seen with radicals.

Edit: Fixed formatting. I still think it's stupid.

I just noticed an email from the school...well...just read it:

Mandatory New Federal Ethnicity and Race Information Collection

Changes to federal requirements for collecting ethnicity and race information require ETSU to resurvey all students, faculty, and staff for this information.

Beginning Monday, April 6, 2009, all users (students, faculty, and staff) are required to log in to GoldLink and provide the following information:

1. Ethnic Category



Do you consider yourself to be of Hispanic/Latino/Spanish origin?

· Yes

· No



2. Race Category



Select one or more of the following racial categories to describe yourself.

· White

· Black or African American

· Asian

· American Indian

· Alaskan Native

· Native Hawaiian or other Pacific Islander

Once this information is submitted, users will return to regular GoldLink services and will not be asked for this information again.

Thank you in advance for participating in this required federal survey,

Offices of Human Resources and Enrollment Services

East Tennessee State University



....What?! NO SIR.

That survey is stupid stupid stupid! What the fuck is an "American Indian"? Why do I have to provide info on any Latin@ ancestory? Explain to me the differences between Latino, Hispanic, AND Spanish (LOL)? Why am I black OR african american like I have a choice? Why so few racial categories? Why no European? If I'm Russian am I Asian or White? Why is this information needed?!

After being called a negro by that stupid student census, the government is going to have to come to my dorm room and A) Deliver an apology B) Ask me nicely with cookies and root beer to fill out anything else ever again! I refuse! I am NOT participating in this fuckery!

To gripe or not to gripe over American Lit (to my white friends)

Sup from subspace,

It seems I've been in a bit of a posting drain lately. Oh sure I still update daily with something random as hell, but the drafts are piling up and I've just been unmotivated as...I don't know WHAT.

Saturday I was so unmotivated I had to have someone go eat with me. It was sadness. More on that in a second.

As you good folks know, either via twitter or my posts (scroll a few months for the hate), I hate my AmLit class. I unabashedly sit in the very front row RIGHT IN FRONT of the man and threaten him with my eyes. I meanmug and side-eye at the risk of going crosseyed or permanently blind. He probably senses this as we rarely make eye contact anymore. I've totally disengaged from this shit not only because of our caucasian malecentric reading list (I've seen him purposefully skip over women and people of color, just cause) but because of his...well, is it privilege to just sort of assume that everyone in the class has a grandparent that grew up/owns a farm therefore we're all instilled with intricate agricultural knowledge? I kid you not. You know what, fine. Maybe I just hate him in general.

(Okay, granted my dad IS from the country side...but that's not a farm)

The professor rambles on and on and has developed a tendency to start injecting religion where there is none indicated. I can't even pinpoint anymore the issues I have with that class, and I decided a while ago to just stop complaining and read something else, since my grade is currently invincible in that class. I fully believe in the power of a library and my ability to just find random stuff to read. I can't just wait for diversity, I gotta go get it. That's a lesson in life for everyone!

Anyway, I've vaguely touched on this issue, mostly to white friends of mine, because it seems (unfortunately in a lot of cases) white friends are all I have in the moment. Woefully unaware white friends. I haven't dared mentioned my displeasure with the whitecentric list but, oh, last week it came out to a person I don't particularly like, and she giggled.

"Who are more people going to know, Robert Frost or WEB Dubois?" she said behind a glass. Not missing a beat I laughed in turn and said, "You should know both" and kept right on going. She faltered, I glared.

Huh. Well going back to Saturday, as I was leaving with my dining buddy we stopped upon another friend of ours working the info desk. As we were talking we got around to discussing our English classes, and I again brought up my displeasure with my AmLit reading list in addition to the fact that the teacher just sucks. When I exclaimed "WHITE DUDES!" and boring not too long after, yeah I got a bit of a look. Then one of the girls just went on to say some mildly racist/fatphobic junk later on in the conversation (don't worry, I called her out...what the fuck is speaking Asian?)

I'm beginning to wonder if even soft activism is just lost on the people I tend to associate with--again I guess because I'm their safe negro--and if I should just give up. You see, I have no choice but to live my skin color daily. It kind of follows me around and the bad things that go with my skin color? Also stalk me. I wish I could just shed it and hang it up on the door every night but sadly I can't. Things stick out to me when I see myself unreflected in my most favorite of subjects, let alone when I know damn well there's a good portion of our reading dedicated to people of color. I suppose I'm impatient. I guess we'll never get to it. I suppose I shouldn't care so much since I'm going to have to take Am Lit I next semester, and I should be lucky to get slave narratives.

So I go on and on. But I'm a little tired of bringing up the itty bitty and the biggie things that irritate ME so much only to have either laughter as a result or at the least a subtle "what's wrong with you? Why can't you be quiet? What are you talking about?!" in response.

Such is the life of people of color, we seem to be the only ones that understand that. And yeah, my phrasing is correct and you read me right.

Ehhh. As carefully as I try to pick my classes, it seems I'm benefiting more and more from just tuning out of them and learning things on my own, as it usually is. Sigh.

My major's not getting me laid any time soon

Although, it seems I stand a better chance than biologists, ironically enough.

Check this out from Sociological Images.



Link or click image for full size chart.

Well isn't that fascinating...for that particular college. You'd think undeclared'ers would be out getting laid more since they're undeclared¹ but I guess no one loves a flip-flopper. Other than that it looks...horribly cliche and stereotypical. Free spirited art types are having plenty while the poor geeks are at the ends of the earth. It also leaves a bunch of questions like why would French majors get laid less or why art types would get laid more. Attitudes? Is one major more liberal than the other? More work and less free time? Wouldn't having a jobby-job and shit factor into how much you bite the headboard?

Ehhh. Like I said, interesting for that particular school. Just thought it'd be fun to show since I'm having a post-drain.



_{Note¹: I keed I keed.}

Some peeps at ETSU are gay.

When you see it, you will LOL.

GLBTies, our local glbt militia, have been making the rounds lately. Too bad the petty bastards won't change their meeting times, but I loves them anyways.

Ah, gay history erasure: Black Edition

So, for what's probably going to amount to be a pretty short post, I've thought about this a lot. What to say?

First off, I'm having a blog memory fail because I wanted to show you all a particular & interesting article I saw a few days ago that made me think of this...but now I can't find it *sad* goddamnit Xands.

AHAHAHAHAHA I FOUND IT. It's was Kai Wright's essay called "Queering Hansberry" here. The full essay is included with that link. Thank you very much Google.

That may turn out to be okay though because what I'm about to say isn't exactly new *shrug* as you may tell by the title. By damn I might just have to switch my major to history 'fore too long. It is a great interest of mine, by the way, even if I wouldn't call myself a buff. Is it so wrong to want to see all the facets of history represented equally?

History just focuses on the winners, no, and we are not the winners, that's for sure. If I had that blog entry on hand I wanted to show *sigh* this would make sense, but for the past couple of days I've been wondering about the black community and it's erasure of LGBT history. Specifically the black community because in this case, I mean we're doing it to ourselves.

When my history class last semester snuck (yeah I said snuck, do something about it) homosexuality into our lessons I was amazed and excited. Holy shit he just acknowledged the history of gays in the military. No shit! Too bad that professor gave such drama and is now gone. Then, as you know, I'm in African American history class now...

Part of our grade in that class is our ability to do oral¹ and we all more or less chose a topic in the beginning of the year--a person to give a report on. We ran a little late even for being a small class but I think everyone that needed to has performed, we've gone from Reconstruction to the Harlem Renaissance so we're about in the 50s now.

Now...the reports don't have to be terribly thorough, just THOROUGH ENOUGH for about 5 minutes. Fine. One person gave a report on Langston Hughes and I was...disturbed at a lot of info that was missing (again, thorough enough). But while I was taking notes I mused on the first time I heard that Langston is/might have been (jury's still out of course) a closeted gay. As well as his potential Communist ties, for some reason we just like to glide over that. Then another person gave a report on Claude McKay who was bisexual--again I wondered, "Huh." Then someone neglected to mention that Paul Robeson was blacklisted for alleged communist ties. WTF, pick up people.

The reports were thorough enough. I wondered after the class, a little before my migraine from hell, SHOULD the reports have mentioned Langston & Claude's respective homosexuality & bisexuality? Was it trivia or an important facet of both of their lives? Hmm.

Those are only two examples though...the blog entry I'm still looking for references Lorraine Hansberry, writer of Raisin in the Sun. Did you know she had LGBT community ties as well? If you did you knew better than I did...it seems that aspect of her life is just washed over.

It's pretty irritating and disturbing how easy it is to just wash over the gay & lesbian history of blacks. We're already marginalized for our skin color, just Cthulhu help you if you've got something else going on over there. People of color, it seems, are in general at more risk of coming out that closet than our white counterparts *shrug* it's not a great situation...with blacks especially it seems our strong community ties to the Church seem to be at the unfortunate root of it. Many of us take that "love the sinner hate the sin" garbage a little too far and people suffer.

It's a curious thing. I wonder if my African American History class will be open enough--by open I mean timewise--to include just a little LGBT history in our curriculum. As we get closer to the 60s & 70s it won't be as easy to deny it I don't think, it's got to come up in there somewhere. I hope it does.


_{Note¹: I'm actually worried about how often I can get away with saying that.}

Tutoring woes

I start back tutoring next week and I'm not sure how I feel about that. I don't know if I'm really ready to get back to it or not. I'm beginning to wonder if maybe I could request a new school.

I don't want to leave the one I'm at but honestly I don't feel like I've been doing much good there. I don't feel like I can. My site liaison's getting on my last nerve by treating me like I can't handle the student I'm working with, who does really good when she's with me until the teacher decides to come over and basically meddle. Seriously, fuck off, I've had it going since last semester and here she come *sigh* if I can't work something out, I don't know...I don't want my kid to suffer because of some external "technical" difficulties.

I guess the good thing is, that's really the only part of the job that's annoying the hell out of me, the bad part being that it's a fairly sizable part. Sigh. Next week I'm going to try extra hard to work things out...I haven't actually spoken to her about her supposed "meddling" because I'm not sure how. I mean, am I really doing badly? If so she needs to just come out and tell me. I don't think I'm doing that badly, my kid's been making great progress while I've been there, I can tell. I'm not totally serious but I don't crack around the whole time either. It's so damn frustrating, bleh!

This, folks, is why I could never teach. Sigh. I'm annoyed.

I see you don't quite get shit: Anthropology Edition

You know what, I'm bout to pop people in the face.

If you're unfortunate enough to follow my Twittering Train you may have heard that yesterday I'd gotten zero hours of sleep and proceeded to class hopped up on sugar and caffeine. Needless to say that day ended in a 10 hour marathon nap.

I tell you that to explain that I've officially been up 13 hours today about about 3 o'clock because thanks to that long kiss goodnight, I've been up since 2 this morning. Hopped up on even MORE sugar¹, AND it's sunny outside. So I'm rather hyper today :D I'm typing this blog post from upside a wall.

AHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

So proceed to my cultural anthropology class were we're a-talking about gender. I usually love my anthro class since we're such a talkative bunch and today was no different. For extra fun, our regular prof had hear graduate assistant, a sociologist, teaching instead! YEYUH!

Now...uh...here's where the title of my post comes in. I sometimes feel--while I don't like to toot my superior intelligence²--that self-identifying or belonging to not one but a few minority groups (black. female. unstraight. *shatner*) sometimes it feels like I just get shit more. I read a lot. I blog. I'm in Bloggity Blogland where I learn. And let's just say that when I hear women make way less than men for doing the same job, I don't question the validity of that shit, I can tell you it's true and I can tell you a few other things that are true.

Being "outside the box" as in neither white nor male nor straight, it seems that I can grasp the conflicty things that perhaps gender, being a social construct, isn't static. It's dynamic, it changes from culture to culture. If you tell me that some Native American tribes believed there were 3 or even 4 genders I'm past the stage where I'll boggle at you like "NUH UH THAT CAN'T BE POSSIBLE COZ THERE'S ONLY MALE AND FEMALE", I will say, "Oh really? Do tell." I think they call that open minded.

Now, that doesn't make you dumb for not understanding that gender all over the world isn't what you think it is. That doesn't mean you aren't open minded either. In all reality it probably just means you didn't know that little fact, and that's fine. I just found it hilarious watching a handful of people struggle (I guess they were struggling) with the concepts of gender vs sex and how you really have to SEPARATE THE TWO.

BUT

I'm an antagonistic bastard so I passed around some sarcastic hand claps whenever I felt someone had either grasped a concept or failed to utterly. It didn't matter to me! I had lots of fun.

The best one was, while talking about the two spirits concept, which is something I'm admittedly not that familiar with, we talked about what WE, as, uh, Americans, would call "homosexual" marriage. The thing about the two spirits concept is that, there were in some tribes males born with female characteristics, and females born with male characteristics. I mentioned in class that this might tie in to what we would call intersex but I don't know if I explained myself adequately. What happened was, though, a few folks seemed to have trouble with grasping the fact that the two spirit males & females could get married to OTHER males and females respectively and it wasn't considered homosexual because the two spirit people displayed the opposite characteristics.

Got it? Good. Because that had shit to do with anything, it wasn't a "straight" marriage or a "gay" marriage, it was a socially accepted union, or a MARRIAGE. One guy seemed to have the most problems with accepting that there was something outside the heteronomitive and our regular teacher told him that he was equating sex with gender even though we had established that you need to separate the two. He eventually seemed to get it. I clapped.

What got my blood boiling towards the end of class--and I discussed this with another girl later because it was really funny--was the GA talking about possible solutions to the fact that women DO make less money than men for doing the same work even with the same education or better, for various reasons (and I will just sum it up with my favorite buzzword PATRIARCHYYYY). What can we do about the gender discrepancies in our country? Is this a problem?

One guy in the class answered with basically (I'm paraphrasing but you can trust me here): it's not really a problem, it's been this way for years and it's going to be hard to break old attitudes.

Class: *chirp*

I clapped. And lol'd. And BANK'd my first amendment rights to call someone's opinion foolish, but I didn't actually voice this with words because GA answered too fast.

Regular teacher gave a much better and not stupid answer, and thus class ended not too long afterwards. We're going to be on this subject for a few more weeks. Goodness I cannot wait until Thursday.



_{Note¹: Sugar doesn't actually make you hyper. Fun fact!
Note²: Momma says I'm smart. Cite!}

Too random for twitter

-I need to do something about the edges of my hair. And my chops. I'm starting to look like the singer from Mungo Jerry.

Anyway, I guess because Spring is coming (I guess spring is coming?!) my hair is starting to be...drier especially around the edges and it's just making me mad all around.

-Danz went hardcore on me and got a tattoo in Russian (pravda or "truth") down in At-lanna. I think I actually mentioned this passive aggressively. I think he's looking for valediction because I never specified whether I liked the tat or not. It must be driving him nuts.

My opinion is I want to know why getting a tattoo is some sort of rite *blink* I swear everyone I know as soon as they hit 18 went off and got a tattoo (except me of course so now I'm the unique one). The mystique is just GONE now. Like so many things in life I do not care.

-I wish it wouldn't be 70 one day and 50 the next

-I really need to go get some food. Bojangle's is about to become my best friend I think.

-I have an overdue library book. One day! I need to turn it in...but I need it...and it'll be raining tomorrow! *sniffle* what do I do...

-I think I actually have TWO over due books. Um, shit, I hope they just take that off my ID/debit card and not my main account.

-This week went better than I thought. I only caught severe cabin fever once, but I settled for wandering around the 3rd floor rather than stalking the campus grounds. Mission accomplished.

Random musings on women's studies

You know what, in retrospect, my Intro to Women's Studies pissed me right off.

Backtrack. You see, I was aiming to minor in women's studies (now I'm an undecided/film studies minor). I do still want to take further courses if I'm able, though. This is also the first year, I believe, that a women's studies major has been offered.

The teachers participating in the course are basically doing it because they wanna. They already come from other departments like English and Sociology and are just teaching the course because, damnit, they wanted to. And that's great.

Going a little forward, Chally from Zero At The Bone tweeted a quizlet over Twitter and I took it, and turns out I'm Judith Butler. I was ecstatic, then paused, and an ellipsis appeared over my head.

So naturally I typed in Judith Butler in my handy dandy address bar and a Wiki article appeared. And I went through it and said, "Oh, I know her". What I meant was, I knew her theories, but not specifically her by name. Eh, that happens a lot. I have an unfortunate domino memory though and thought back to some musings I had over Christmas break about me first semester.



Now, I loved my Women's Studies course. It was great. It was one day a week for 2 hours in the evening so that meant I didn't eat dinner Mondays but it was still great. We had a great teacher and the class discussions were usually pretty good. I enjoyed taking it. So I guess "pissed" is a strong word, more like "miffed a lot". That's a phrase.

BUT

Miffed a lot it is. I was miffed. For one thing, yeah we had discussions but it never felt like we talked about anything...specific. Our book was full of influential articles and we read just about all of them, and we talked about plenty of intangible theory *sigh* but rarely ever the women themselves. It was kind of weird, now that I think about it (or thought about it a few months ago). Also, besides the odd Audre Lorde piece and mentioning bell hooks & Gloria Anzaldua literally at the very end of the class race was conspicuously absent. Uh, I was the second black student in the class and I think in total there were about 5 people of color (we had a small class note) so I never figured out if I was the only one that noticed that.

Back to talking about specific women, our final exam was to do--we chose a woman to write a short report on and presented it to the class. I did Simone Beauvoir and Gloria Anzaldua. That was as specific as we got even though, as I said, we talked about plenty of articles and women's issues and that was fine.

So I guess "miffed a lot" doesn't work either, maybe "unsatisfied" is best. It was an intro class so it's unfair for me to expect to be given a full blown course on err'thang but it just feels like even in our short amount of time we could have gone so much more in depth, not just...theory. Oh well, I guess that's what more specific courses are for.

HARROWING FOOT TALES

Or how I learned to stop worrying and embrace my infection.

/Facebook copypasta

A thrilling if agonizing jolt of pain races up my calf whenever I rotate my foot just so, unfortunately I'm starting to like it so I keep doing it.

So if you've seen me status messages/tweets about draining pus (or as Daniel called it "fluid" but I like pus) out of my foot you might have wondered what the fuck happened and why I was doing this. Other than the fact that I'm crazy. Well, the tale is MORE HARROWING THAN YOU THINK.

Yesterday afternoon my new pair of shoes arrived and so did a friend who wanted me to accompany her to dinner. I did so and to dinner we went. My new shoes fit pretty well and I hope the weather gets warm enough that I can break them in more. Unfortunately, it seems that whenever I buy new shoes something horribly wrong happens. Like yesterday.

After dinner friendy has to go to a study meeting. I walk her there since I needed to go to the library and look for a damn illustrated copy of the Jungle Book. Were none. Make own. Note to self.

But before I can even get to the library proper, as I go up the stairs there is a painful jolt in my right foot. I look down and see droplets of blood on the stair steps and a little pool on the side of my shoe. I look down and think, "Oh shit I must have scraped it." Mind you it was quite cold yesterday so it's perfectly logical that I might have hurt myself and not felt it, it's happened before. Strange but possible, I guess. Still not totally sure how I pulled that off.

So I do what any self reliant trooper would and ignored it, continuing on my merry way to the library, which soon turned into the longest walk ever as the new fake leather continually rubbed against my new wound. By the time I got to those annoying slide doors I was thinking about just abandoning my quest and hobbling myself back to the dorm room but no, damnit, I was at the doors! So I go in.

Like I said I didn't find my illustrated copy of the Jungle Book, and was sad. I did find books on teaching kids about drugs and masturbation but I would have looked extremely creepy hording those out so I left them. Such was my great pain that I wobbled to the bathroom and put some tissue between my injury and the shoe. Wasn't bleeding as bad as I thought, actually it was barely. It looked like it'd even healed up a bit and was just sore. So by the time I get back to the first floor I'm having a bit of "runner's high" and feeling little to nothing as I pimp walk back to my dorm.

Well now the fun starts. Get the shoes off, decide to bandage foot up after I have a little rest. I rest a little and look down at my foot and something is off. It's healed alright, but it looks like I've attached a tiny plastic bag to the injury. And it was filled with...something. Like, I could see damn air bubbles I thought. What the FUCK? I thought.

I decided that this wasn't natural and/or good at all so I flip my foot over the low lying, dusty sink for further investigation. It didn't look any better under fluorescent light but there's a white...thing...in the sack. I had no idea what to make of it--was it a blister? A really ugly looking wound? I can't say what really drove me to pick up the tiny manicure scissors other than disgusted curiosity and a fear that I might be getting my foot cut off soon by some over eager assistant nurse, so I poked at the white spot. It shifted. Then I poked it again. I couldn't feel anything so I tilted the scissors up ever so slightly and made a tiny pinhole...

NOTE: DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME. IT'S STUPID.

Stuff came out. Stuff. Clearish, odorless, thick fluid came out in copious amounts as I held my foot over the sink. I pushed the more bulbous part of the "sack" and more fluid spilled. I stared in a sort of reverent awe then realized my cell phone was behind me. I simply had to get fotos of this miraculous event!

So I hobbled over but in the process, duh, had to put my foot down so I ended up getting most of the gobbledygunk on the floor and no good pictures. So I settled for texting my unofficial doctor in training about my exciting events. Meanwhile I finally realized that I may have a problem here, so I cut the "sack" off using a pair of tweezers & the scissors, cleaned it, put some cream on it and a bandage, silently thanking my mother for knowing her daughter is a fearless loon.

And that's about as harrowing as it gets. I haven't even told you my dentistry story. With the same tools. (Don't worry it was before this incident.)

Alternative, Spring Break

So, week after next (as in not this upcoming week...follow?) I'll be on spring break. Yay! So where am I going? Cancun? At-lanna? Flo-ri-da? Travel across Europe following my favorite industrial bands since they never come to the States? The Virgin Islands?

Uhh.

Not quite.

Yes it's true; I, the most boring person alive, in between working and trying to make a decent paycheck, will be staying right here in my teeny tiny dorm room, probably curled into a ball of black sorrow and playing copious amounts of Depeche Mode and Bauhaus, fending off the urge to injure myself with index cards. I'm an ex-mutilator, you see *blink blink*

So all this goes on for a week of course. I know, I know, I do that all week every week can't stop won't stop, so spring break won't be much of a difference. Maybe with more Sci-Fi channel thrown in.

So, it's the weekend and my E key seems to have fixed itself, but, again, I have some woe to get back to. So I'll leave you with this random ass article from the Chicago tribune about the Clever and Good Looking Michelle Obama and her naughty naughty sleeveless dresses.

Some harrumph over Michelle Obama's sleeveless dress

Sleevelessness is next to tawdriness if you ask some citizens who spotted Michelle Obama in the audience of her husband's speech Tuesday night.

Although the first lady has been admired for her signature sheaths that expose toned arms, her choice of a Narciso Rodriguez sleeveless dress in this setting ignited some indignation.

"Does the lady not understand that these Big Speech Events are serious and important? Not a cocktail party?" e-mailed Tribune reader Janice Elges of Wheaton, who said she scanned the crowd for other bare arms and spied none. "The season is winter. The occasion is business. Dress was wrong place and time."

I know Haterade is delicious and all, but it's really not that good for you.

I see you don't quite get racism: Racism in Hip Hop

Wow, did you see that? I went a day without a post! Frankly I was busy sleeping.

...which has never stopped me before.

I just wanted to do a little post real quick, obviously I'm not dead if you've seen my Continuing Thoughts over there. Also my contact info is now at the bottom of the page in a lil box for your extreme inconvenience. Working on that.

So let me get to the meat of this. I'm going to try my damnedest tomorrow to attend a seminar the school's having about, well, Racism in Hip Hop. It has a really weak name like Racism in Hip Hop in our so called post racial era, I'll get back to you on that.

Let me just say that...I'm a punk. I don't know when, I don't know why, but when I was a youngin' I got sick of gangsta rap and the early onset of Lil Wayne (I SAW it coming but y'all didn't listen) and switched over to the local classic rock station. My life was changed. More Clash & Siouxsie Sioux than Sex Pistols, you'll often also hear me crying out, "BIRTH! SCHOOL! WORK! DEATH!" than the latest Diva Beyonce tune. I'm a punk in the deviant sense, I don't listen to the music black folks are supposed to listen to (don't get me started on how without black folks there would be no rock).

I like rock music. I like industrial, punk, classic rock. Even in the rawk & rolllll community I'm an anomaly for my tastes and, well, me skin color. It's kind of sad but what part of reality isn't. You'll hear many of my "alternative" (I'll get to that in a later day) black ladies & gents bemoan more or less this same fact: we're black, we listen to white music, white kids think we're cool in that token way, while claiming not to care. Ask your friends. I'm telling you.

So does that mean I don't know what's going on in hip hop? Nope, it does not. Recently, in the past few years or so I've more or less refound my connection with hip hop and R&B. I stuck to "old skool" but I eventually moved on up and realized that, while mainstream is garbage and always will be garbage, you know, if you look under the surface, hip hop deserves much more credit.

Hip hop embraced me much more than the rawk & rolllll community ever did and probably ever will. It seems that hanging out with the folks that shared the same musical interests as me, obviously, shared a completely different world view. Especially about the vile black hip hop which they decree as crap, racist, sexist & misogynist, and generally inferior to the Lawd Rawk & Rollllll.

Coming from both sides of the fence (did I mention I listen to baroque), I kind of laugh at the assertion that these rabid fans make about their hated nemesis, because...uhh...rock does a lot of the same things. It's misogynist, sexist, occasionally backhandedly racist, and a lot of it is crap. Don't front, yes it is. In any era. I don't care, turn on the radio right now and tell me you could stand it for three minutes.

Music differences kill me. So what do I mean when I say hip hop embraces me? I mean that hip hop can incorporate all of my interests: rock, trip hop, trance, eastern influences...as for whether or not the rawk and rollllll camp can do this as well, sure they can, but it never feels quite genuine. I suppose it's just my current reconnection with a music form I now love that's making me think this way, but I think it's true. Hip hop also, strangely enough, has a lot less annoying antagonistic "liberal progressive" head-scratching racists, and I get tired of those. Go fig.

So, the racism in hip hop seminar. I'm rather interested to see it because notice I didn't say racism doesn't exist in hip hop, but I'd like to see how the speakers address this and in what form & context. There's lots of problems with hip hop, even the underground/thinking person's hip hop and I'm curious in how we fix these things. With my long lost mistress, rawk & rolllll, I'm...less inclined, because, sometimes, some things just need to be left behind.

When/if I attend the seminar (it happens when I get back from work if I'm not exhaaaussteeed) I'll try to fix this up a bit, and I'll try to fix it up in general. I was afraid that if I stored it in drafts I'd forget all my awesome points, I'm not a good draftist :/

Would WEB DuBois condone throwing furniture?

Forgive me if this shows up like 20 times, me and ScribeFire are having a dire malfunction.

"I think he's disappointed I'm even in the class." Me to Danz via text message.

I've already told you my grievances with my American Literature II class. I don't think I expressed well enough I'm about to take down my professor.

Today we talked a little about Booker T Washington as he's the next piece we're about to read, specifically the Atlanta Compromise. I can give you all my feelings on Booker T Washington another time, but for now let's focus on this. Mind you, I got about 3 hours of sleep last night and we all know how fucked up I get with no sleep. I hear the voices louder and I'm more prone to so-called Freudian slips and paranoia. It's just how I work. Don't act like you don't want to kill people when you're sleepy.

Anyway, so we talk about Booker T and the infamous incident with Roosevelt. We then get into some of what made Booker T so remarkable and influential, that being his oratory skills. Professor starts talking about how important it is to have good oratory skills, remarking that this his how mostly how Obama got into the White House.

My ears prick but I'm busy trying to take notes and not yawn so loudly. Then...well...the inevitable Hitler comparison.

Yes, sir, that's how Hitler & Obama took power, their charisma and oratory magic. In one miraculous sentence my professor managed to link together an activist, a dictator, and a president. I mean, why not right.

Did I get outraged? Not really. I was more amused/bemused by the fact that he even went there. Strictly academically, I saw his point. In my mind though

WHAT THE FUCK

COULD HE NOT THINK OF ANYONE ELSE WITH BETTER ORATORY SKILLS THAT HITLER

OH WELL AT LEAST IT WASN'T MUSSOLINI, OBAMA'S BACK TO BEING A NAZI

Aren't we all tired of the Obama's Just Like Hitler meme? Furthermore, I want to know why, when anyone is mentioned as being a good speaker, Adolph Hitler just HAS to come up. Okay, the man had the charisma to sway an entire nation (or just about all of it at the very least). You know what Hitler also was? A psychopath & a mass murderer. Goddamnit.

Also pissing me off was my professor's seemingly lax grip of black history in total. Sure, he's a lit teacher, you'd argue that he doesn't need to know history extensively, except that's wrong because if you're going to teach AMERICAN LITERATURE you might want to edumacate y'self on some black folk writings, I don't care what part of the course you're teaching. You hear me future teachers and professors?! What is history but literature, and literature is history? Please know your shit before walking across the threshold of that room.

Lastly...this may just be me but I swear whenever I say something in class--and I'm usually pretty relevant, I don't say anything unless I think it is on topic--his responses to me feel so...condescending. That other shit is real but this may just be a psychological side effect of the fact that I was already annoyed, and then was blindly pissed when I left the class.

So other than blatantly displaying my mirth, I didn't do anything other than fantasizing hitting him with a chair. After the whole Obama = Hitler thing I rather did tune him out and just made notes all over my book. Really, professor, fuck you. We're talking about Dubois next and I suggest he gets that shit right, or I may have to beat him with a chair in the name of militancy.

"What the fuck," you say numbly. "Hitting him with a desk?! Isn't that a little EXTREME?"

And yes, yes it is, but it's been proven throughout history time and time again that people just do not learn unless something is drastic enough, and I figure hitting him with a desk is pretty drastic. Put that fucking phone down.

Take me to the river, drop me in the water

Warning: Angsting. Angsting hard.

Holla at ya person. You all know I have to go super hard with everything, including emotions.

I've been feeling homesick lately. I think it's homesickness. I really hope so because there's no excuse for random suicidal thoughts. I mean, I have these sometimes, but recently it's been sort of intense. I'm assuming it's homesickness because it's always connected to home...

I hate myself for bringing it up to my mother that I'll be home in May. It sounded more like I was trying to convince myself that I'll be home soon, not her. Sure May isn't all that far off and I'm already pretty well acclimated to dorm living as it were. Other than Housing coming after me (and I ignore them pretty well) I've been okay.

But...I dunno. I guess suddenly I want to be home right now. It's so empty & lonely here on the weekends, walking through the halls of this dorm & on the street is kind of creepy and well, depressing. Everyone's at home or out with friends, I can't go home OR go out with friends.

I've had to start sleeping with my TV on to drown out my own thoughts. My mind goes overactive usually just before I go to sleep, I think that's a normal occurrence. "What did I do today, why didn't I go to that class, wow that sushi was really awesome, did I get more than 400 calories today (no, that's why I'm hungry now)". You know, shit like that. But then you'd usually go to sleep, whereas I...well, I stay awake and think about incidents from eight, ten years ago. The memories won't let me sleep. I turn the TV on and screw my eyes shut and pretty much do the "LALALALALA~" routine. Lately I've started hitting my headboard and that rather hurts, but the pain takes me mind off...me mind.

So that's actually where the suicidal thoughts come from believe it or not. And...well, I think it was Tuesday night, as I hovered there between sleep and sort-of-sleep (I sleep like a cat), I thought of my dad. I thought of one particular incident where we got into an argument and later I ended up hugging him. I could...feel it so vividly and realized that over Christmas break I didn't get to see him much, let alone hug his tall, squishy self.

I thought my tear ducts were going to go into overload, and for about 5 minutes I wanted to die like that would have done any good. I wanted to die with that feeling of hugging his tummy. I come up to his chest, but I always end up hugging his tummy because it's all soft and familiar and secure. I wanted to DIE. I started thinking about all the stuff I'd read up until that point and wanted to die. I thought about cutting (I don't think I've ever mentioned I'm a former mutilator) and wanted to absolutely die. Then I just wanted to be at home.

And that, ladies and gents, is how hard I do with homesickness. And why I avoid it at all costs. This is actually only the second time I've felt that intensely about going home, and the first I've ever connected it with dying *blink* very weird...but this too shall pass.

AmLit is keeping it real...real American

I'm about to set upon you all a great revelation!

I think I may hate my American Literature II class.

No...hate isn't the right word. I dread going to it. I get majorly bored sitting in the class listening to my teacher drone on (then the brief moments of silence when he asks a question and no one feels like answering).

Also, the reading? Extra, extra dry.

What's irritating me most though, is an extreme lack of diversity in the writing.

I was looking through my Norton anthology and in the beginning there's a lot of Native American works. Towards the end there's a lot too. I look at my syllabus and wonder why we're not covering these hymns, chants, and stories, as well as authors like Ambrose Bierce (whose Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge trumps Huck Finn so hard I can't stand it). I look at the syllabus and for the first time, a little numbly, I note the authors.

Mark Twain. Henry Adams. Henry James. Kate Chopin. Jack London. William Faulkner. John Steinbeck.

What did you notice about all those.

...

Yeah? Yeah. They're all white. I threw in Kate Chopin to fuck with you. Make no mistake that we do cover some black authors suck as Booker T Washington & Richard Wright and Ralph Ellison.

But actually, you know what, add those names to the list and take out Chopin's. NOW what do you see? That's right, all male. Seriously, the whole syllabus looks like that, and in reality we're not even covering that much literature. I know, it's the second part of the course, but please tell me there's a THIRD.

Now for the beginning of the anthologies there's actually a pretty good reason for that make up, being that for a long time most writers in America were wealthy white males. Then they were wealthy white females. Then they were just white folks. Then blacks, and all those other wonderful minorities. We know this, and I can understand that pretty well. Except this class goes from Civil War to past the 60s, so I'm a bit perplexed as to why there isn't an increasing diversity of writers in our set out little time line.

Like, really confused, because this anthology and my Heath anthology contain a great diversity of writers for us to pick and choose from. Hell-o, professor, 'sup? Is there something you want to...tell the class?

I actually don't think my class cares. Goodness knows I barely do, and if I were another plain-jane complacent person with more time on my hands, I don't think I would. I'm keeping these books, it's just one class, I'll read what the fuck I want as long as I get them grades.

STILL

It rather bothers the hell out of me that this class seems to be content just to study a really superficial, I think, sampling of American authors. This is kind of ironic because I originally wanted to take Euro Lit, which would have probably been mucho màs blanco. But since I'm here I might as well improve my condition I guess.

So why? The simple answer is that we only have four months in a MWF class to cover the span of American Literature, so *shrug* I suppose. Pick out all the important ones, which makes sense. Too bad we don't like simple answers though, right?

I'd also like to mention that this list, strictly in academic terms, is boring as hell. It may have to due with aforementioned lack of diversity, but seriously. WE CAN DO BETTER THAN THIS. I aim to ask the teacher about it one of these days, I just wish I'd realized this sooner.

And I suppose my laundry's done. You know how it goes, it all comes out in the wash.

All Kinds o' Fur.

Yeeeeah I finally decided what story I'm going to craft for my kids! *faint* Now I just have to get busy illustrating & illuminating like a mad monk locked in a cell.

Anyway, the story I finally chose to mock up for my kids is Allerleirauh or All Kinds of Fur, or Catskin (english variant). The original story more or less is as such:

A king promises to his dying wife that he won't remarry until he finds a woman as beautiful as he is. This turns problematic when he realizes that the only woman equal to his wife's beauty is his daughter. The daughter does NOT want to marry her father, so she wishes for three dresses: one of gold, one of silver, and one white, and a coat made of samples of furs from all the animals in the kingdom. When the father gives her the dresses, she takes them and a golden ring and flees to the woods.

There in the woods she sleeps until a king from another kingdom finds her. She pleads with him and he eventually lets her stay in his castle to work in the kitchen as a maid.

Kay Nielsen, "Catskin"

It came time for that king to be married, so he has a ball. All Kinds Of Fur wants to attend the ball, so she sneaks out wearing the golden dress. The king fall in love with her and when the dance is over, she escapes and returns to the kitchen, trading in her gold dress for her coat of all furs. The next night the king has another ball and All Kinds of Fur attends, wearing the silver gown. She dances with the king and when the ball is over, she returns to the kitchen wearing her fur, and drops her golden ring in the soup for the king. The final ball All Kinds of Fur attends the ball wearing the white gown. The king slips the golden ring onto All Kinds of Fur's hand while she isn't paying attention and has the ball go on for a little longer...so that when All Kinds of Fur tries to escape again, she doesn't have time to change and tries to cover herself with her furs.

The ruse fails and the king finds her out; they get married and live happily ever after.

I think it's a nice story. It's not too involved and not too horrible, I can take out the whole...uh, incest part. I think it'll be pretty familiar, it's rather similar to Cinderella and a few other stories. I think it'll serve at least most of my purposes pretty well--I mean, the whole point of this IS to entertain, no? So hopefully my Little Heathens in Training will enjoy it.

Education Budget Cuts: Let's get ready to go brooooooooooooke!

Well, I was thinking of an interesting post, then I decided that this email I got from me school would provide something far, far more fascinating: broke ass education!

The letter goes like this:

As you well know, recent unanticipated decreases in state funding have presented East Tennessee State University with significant financial challenges during the current 2008-09 fiscal year. ETSU began the year on July 1, 2008, with a 5.8 percent ($3.6 million) reduction for the academic campus and a 2 percent funding decrease for both the James H. Quillen College of Medicine ($581,000) and Family Medicine ($114,000). In October, there was an additional one time reduction of 3.4 percent ($3.2 million) that affected all three units. For FY 2008-09, this has resulted in a $7.6 million budget reversion for the university. The potential for further reductions exists that, by July 1, 2009, could be as high as 19.5 percent depending on state financial condition and the effect, if any, of a Federal stimulus package.

In October 2008, President Stanton appointed a Task Force that was charged with developing a comprehensive plan that would address these anticipated budgetary reductions by identifying immediate and short-term strategies as well as long-term plans that would help guide ETSU into the 2009-10 fiscal year and beyond, as further reductions may occur.

Tee-hee, I like the term Task Force :D task force...

Anyway. ETSU is hardly the first school in the nation, let alone the state to get hit with budget reduction, but this shit is getting uuuuggly. You do have to factor in, of course, that next year we're going to have to pay-per-class and the fact that tuition, room & board and all the gym exercise and beer you could ever want factors into about %6000 a semester. But educational budget cuts always depress the life out of me, just a little.

Ugh. Whenever I see these cuts for my state and other states I just wonder how much decent education is a priority in this country. It feels like a joke a lot of times--schools are underfunded, teachers don't get paid nearly as much as they should, test scores, and just all this garbage. It's ridiculous and it gets more ridiculous every year. We want our kids to be smart so we force so much shit in their heads at younger ages to the point where they'll be job training in pre-school and it seems we're so concerned with test scores and raising bars that we're forgetting...what exactly are the kids learning?

And then these huge ass budget cuts. TN has gone through quite a bit with the education budget, it's almost mind boggling. And so sad...humbug ~_~