Saturday, October 23, 2010

So, I'm walking down the street, and all of a sudden, completely out of nowhere, this GIANT PRAYING MANTIS appears on the sidewalk in front of me.



I let out an extremely manly shriek of terror, and back up a few steps. It continues towards me. I turn and run. Suddenly, I stop short. I'm surrounded. It brought it's ENTIRE CREEPY PRAYING MANTIS FAMILY! And dear GOD those things reproduce like bunnies. I do what any self-respecting female would do in this situation and jump up and down, letting out small yelps every few seconds and begging passerbys to save me. The only thing stopping me from curling into the fetal position was the HOARDS OF PRAYING MANTISES (looked that one up, both mantises and mantes are acceptable) surrounding me!

A kind old man decides to try to distract the hoard with a silly dance. Just when I think it might be working, one lunges for my face. I duck, and in the process, knock down the kind old man. Oops. Story of my life. Disgusted, he leaves. With nothing to distract them, the mob attacks. I'm batting them away like a hormonal high school girl trapped in a bitch fight. One makes it past my elaborate defense system, and in slow motion, I see it coming for my eye. With no way to defend myself, I close my eyes, bracing for impact. It hits. Pain. Excruciating pain. I weep.



Ok, that story may not be 100% accurate. However, regardless of the reason, my left eye is currently swollen to approximately three times its normal size. Like this.

(btw, don't ever google "swollen eye". yuckyuckyuck.)

This, believe it or not, really fucks with your depth perception. This is the first time I have been able to look at a computer screen without getting nauseous. And I don't want to push it. So, no real entry today, thought my EPIC praying mantis narrative should be more than enough to keep you entertained for the night.

Moral of the story: Stay away from praying mantes! (Remember, either form is acceptable)

Until next time!

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Welcome!

Welcome to my blog! I have been writing a lot, mostly when I am in class and shouldn't be. So, I decided, why not publish all these huge and profound thoughts online where everyone can read them?! What a great, novel ideal, huh?? I don't think ANYONE else does this. God, I'm so intelligent.
Duh.
In other news, this blog is intended to contain my musings on music, literature, and politics, and sometimes, I'm going to review books, new music, or even movies! And, as does my life, it will contain copious amounts of sarcasm and awkwardness. But it's also going to be subject to anything else that might appear in my head. Which means, really, that any subject is fair game. I will, however, try not to do that stream of consciousness writing thing very often though. Because, seriously, have you guys read Ulysses? Not fun.
So, on that note, my first real entry!



   I was thinking about Romeo and Juliet the other day. Since Shakespeare penned this story, it has been hailed as THE love story. Timeless, tragic, and truly epic, it tells the story of two young lovers whose feuding families attempt to keep them apart. Unable to gain the approval of their parents, they kill themselves so that they can be together forever in death. Beautiful, right? Tragic too, huh?
   So, to this day, Romeo and Juliet are the poster couple for true love. Their love was so great that they would rather die than be apart. Songs and poems have been written in their honor, statues have been erected immortalizing their love, and angsty teenage girls will forever have their love as an example of what true love really means. But you know what I think? Romeo and Juliet were complete and utter idiots.
   I first read this work in 10th grade English class. This particular professor and I had already had our fair share of disagreements, most notably over William Carlos Williams poem "The Red Wheelbarrow", which was, in my opinion, the world's most useless poem. (Look it up, I'm sure you will agree. My professor, however, did not. Unknowingly, I had insulted his absolute favorite poem. Ooopsie.) However, nothing compared to the all out brawl that occurred during our Shakespearian unit.
   Let's look at little closer at the story, shall we? When we first meet Romeo, he is a horny little boy* skulking around a party, stalking the current "love of his life" Rosaline. He sees Juliet, and decides he has a better chance of sleeping with her. He charms his way into her bed, a feat which, we may add, he had no chance of accomplishing with Rosaline, since she had sworn herself to a life of chastity, and they have sex. The first night the know each other. Ok...So then, Juliet's cousin kills Romeo's best friend. Ouch. Of course then, Romeo kills Juliet's cousin in retaliation. Ohhh boy. All of this happens within a span of less than two full days.
   So, basically, what we have here is two prepubescent, horny children, one of whom is a murderer, who decided that after two days, their love is absolutely and without a doubt eternal, and kill themselves so that they never have to be apart again. And this is the epic, timeless love story that we want to use as our model for what true love really means??
   THEY WERE TWELVE! And horny! They knew each other LITERALLY 12 hours before they decide for their true love. How is this ok?! This is not love, this is lust, obsession, and insanity. Personally, these are not the traits that I hope to use when describing my own love story, as, ahem,  nonexistent as it may currently be.
   Romeo and Juliet have long been hailed as the power couple of true love. But I think it's time for a new love story. One not tainted by feuding families, murder, deception, fickleness, and lust. Well, ok, lust is fine. But not JUST lust. Seriously people, since when is it ok for twelve-year-olds to have sex??

This particular rant has actually lost me some friends, as well as the respect of my 10th grade history teacher. Look, people, it's not romantic! It's unhealthy! Sure, undying love and all that, but usually that means old people who have been together thousands of years and then one dies and they stay in love and stuff. Not prepubescent kids who were "together" for two days. And this is not in any way a diss to the Bard. I love Shakespeare. I have The Tempest memorized. It's possible he was being really ironic with this particular story. I love irony! I especially love making fun of people who don't get it.

Until next time,

*97% of literature experts agree that our titular heroes were, in fact, approximately twelve.