Work, ADD, and other random things I will write about while under the influence of sugar and caffeine!

I don't think I spelled caffeine right...hmm I guess i did...it didn't show up with a red squiggly line.

OK- so I had a rather unproductive day- I did some reorganization of the paper and then basically let everything distract me to no end (and for once, Facebook was NOT the destraction). I have an overwhelming urge to go somewhere...now. I hear South Africa is nice or even Ukraine (is there a the in front of that? is it like THE Netherlands???? These are questions of grave importance I guess I should be trying to answer, being in International Affairs and all...)

Oh and I found a funny word from urban dictionary- collateral misinformation- when someone gets the wrong information from wikipedia because someone has changed it to win an argument. Oh urban dictionary how I love thee.

Ok...enough random thoughts and all that- I have a bus to catch! WEEE SLEEEEEEEEEEEP!

Living with Other People

So I figured it was about time I started an entry about this oh-so lovely topic. I live with three people, all female, and I can say that two of my roomates, I really like a lot. The last one...I can't FREAKIN' stand. I've come to realize how small things about a person can add up to a lot. I had never really had such problems with a roomate before. My freshman year, despite our different backgrounds and way of looking at the world, D'ann and I got along great! She remained a close friend of mine even when we were not rooming together anymore (and we weren't rooming together anymore because she moved off campus and I stayed on). My second roomate was the problem though. She was a BITCH and a TYRANT. I swear, I had to wonder if that girl ever left the fucking room. She really didn't bother me all that much because I was hardly ever in the room (I was taking 17 hours in the Fall and 16 in the Spring plus the RA course....and of course, I was heavily involved). But, when I was in the room, like at night- because lo and behold, this girl went to bed at 10pm.......WHO IN COLLEGE GOES TO BED AT THAT TIME???? I guess I was stupid and should have gotten the clue that she goes to bed that early- and doesn't wake up until 10 the next day. I had never known someone to sleep so much (well, I take that back...the Disliked Roomate sleeps alot). I tried to be nice to her and she responded like a bitch. I'm sure part of it would be that she would make a statement, and I would ask "well, why do you feel that way?" (I think my favorite was when

she said "Bush is a dumbass"
Me:"Ok thanks for stating the obvious, but why?"
Her response: "UGH! He just is"
Me: That's not going to win you any debates...

I admit, that was a bit of a smart ass thing for me to do......but hey, that's life. I think the main problem was that our personalities were so different. Somehow, deep down inside, I think she is a recovering Goth. It just struck me that way.

So we parted ways, and from then on out, the rest of my time at A&M, I lived in a single room, but I had suitemates, so it was a little like living in an apartment. My suitemate my senior year was amazing! She was funny, crazy, and just plain fun.

My roomates last year at VT were great. Tiffany is definitely missed! So now this brings me to my Disliked Roomate (DR). I thought DR and I would get along- she had had similar experiences to mine and she was studying in a related field. That's where they stop though. Homegirl obviously has not had responsibilty before. She was able to spend her undergraduate days galavanting around the world, which is nice, but then you tell other people they should do the same thing? Some of us have RESPONSIBILITIES! like jobs, school, and not enough money. I shudder to think that being a TA at VT is your first REAL work experience. (and please, teaching English in another country is NOT a job- and the people who hire you to do it know that, they know you are only doing it so you can travel to another country with a pretense). And when you talk about traveling, please don't act like no one else has done it. Dont' patronize me or talk down to my friends, especially since some of them have a hell lot more experience than you. (Especially, as I see it, you go to foreign countries, spend +1 month there, and don't even learn the language??? My Spanish is better than yours and FUCK you were in India in a program where you learn Hindi and you didn't even pick that up....are you really an "international" traveler or just an American tourist?) But yeah, Patronizing tone ANY time you talk to her. And it also shows when she'll come back from a hike and say "wow, you really should go.." Pardon me for the piles of book and computer I am sitting at doing WORK. You came to grad school to work and learn some professionalism. Are you just here to play? because I can tell you, that ain't going to get you a job, especially in your field (look at your loser no-personality boyfriend...what is he doing? working for Blacksburg???) Oh and my favorite is when DR made the comment "OH! someone's being domestic today!" the first time she saw me cooking at home. EXCUSE ME?!? Just because I am cooking a meal for myself does not mean I'm "domestic" i means I can provide and take care of myself, which is the least I can say for you (Yeah, do I need to remind you that the one attempt you had at cooking dinner, I ended up having to cook for you??) I really get annoyed with these "feminists" who think that cooking dinner, knowing how to do any so-called "domestic" tasks- makes you less of a "strong woman." Face the facts- you have to know how to do some of these things in life, otherwise you will end up asking for help all the time. And besides, as a feminist, I do advocate women being able to do all these things, not so much for their husband, but for themselves. (And honestly, if you can cook well, you can def. have control over your man).

So what else does Homegirl do? Does not lift a finger to help in the maintenance of the apartment (I actually think that this is where most of my ire perpetuates from)- I have never once seen her clean our bathroom or the living room, or even take out the trash for that matter. I think the worst was when right before Thanksgiving Break she and I said "ok, we're cleaning this this weekend." Guess who got stuck with it....yeah that's right...me. And who kept walking by and not offering to help, and even went as far as to idiotically say "oh wow, someone's on a cleaning spree!" Oh Bitch...no. And EVEN more did not even take the trash that was by the door out when she went to take a bag of trash from her room that wasn't even a quarter full (this brings me to another point- she has all these obnoxious "my carbon footprint is smaller than yours" type deals- WHY THE HELL are you throwing out a half-filled garbage bag....isn't that just making more trash (in the form of another plastic bag)- fucking hypocrites). So when Homegirl realizes I'm pissed, she comes up to me and says "I really appreciate you doing this.." FUCK no you don't. You just like the fact that someone else is doing it. To which I just looked at her and thought about what to say- be a bitch or be diplomatic. I think I took the middle road and said "yeah, hopefully it will stay clean" Her: (laugh that sounds like a damn cough (she does this alot when she talks and it sounds like she is hyperventilating and its annoying too)): Oh I'm sure it will.

Will it bitch? Last I checked, you aren't doing anything to make sure it stays clean. For some reason, more than any other roomate, this girl pisses me the hell off. I honestly think alot of it has to do with the maturity level- she's still a kid at the age of 23. I have no problem with acting immature and having fun, but I also realize there is a time and place for that.

Whew- rant over. I feel like punching her face now.

The God of Small Things

More and more, I read people's facebook or blog or orkut that say one of their favorite books is The God of Small Things. And some of the people I know who have this book listed as their favorites I know hardly understand the nuances Arundhati Roy includes in this novel or fully grasp what exactly she is writing between the covers. Amazon's review states:

"In her first novel, award-winning Indian screenwriter Arundhati Roy conjures a whoosh of wordplay that rises from the pages like a brilliant jazz improvisation. The God of Small Things is nominally the story of young twins Rahel and Estha and the rest of their family, but the book feels like a million stories spinning out indefinitely; it is the product of a genius child-mind that takes everything in and transforms it in an alchemy of poetry. The God of Small Things is at once exotic and familiar to the Western reader, written in an English that's completely new and invigorated by the Asian Indian influences of culture and language."

What this fails to mention, however, is that Roy, herself, has been a prolific writer, mostly on issues of societal, cultural, and political concern. Some of these concerns are alluded to throughout the course of the novel. Environmental concerns are addressed in the manner in which she describes the pollution in the river, caused by pesticides bought with loans from the World Bank (also, in this addressing the impact of globalization on the environment), but also in the means of how she juxtaposes the life of the family with that of Velutha's- which is arguably more attuned with and at one with, nature.

The obvious "point" that people pull from this novel is the discussion of caste and the separation of people, whom love each other, because of this system. However, it is not so simplistic. It also concerns not only a division on caste, but also class, and societal affiliations. Velutha, an untouchable, laborer, with affiliations to the Communist Party, does not seem to mix with the idea of what the "respectable" Christian, middle class wants. It is not, then, just a caste issue. Overall, Roy is utilizing this family to critique the Christian community in Kerala, not just as a reiteration of what so many other writers have commented on in the past. To simplify her points to only being about caste neglects the complexity of the novel and the complexity of Roy's arguments on the positions she takes in real life.

The Amazon review states that this would be a great read and not hard to understand for English readers (read: Western readers) however, I would also argue that so much of the context and points of the story are lost because of the failure to fully understand and take into consideration the rich social fabric Arundhati Roy composes in this novel.

Perhaps, this can shed a little more light on who Arundhati Roy is and some of the issues she addresses within God of Small Things, in a way that weaves into a stirring story. In her own words, it is about power and power relations and her way of seeing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YZ2as-l_LSk&feature=related

Lost

Do you ever have those days where you wonder what you are doing and how you got to where you are...and you just feel lost and don't know what to do next- yeah, i'm having one of those days. It just makes me wonder what I'm doing and if what I felt like is what I wanted to do all along, really what I want to do?

So yeah, there's always that cliche that life is a journey and sometimes you get lost- but damn, it does not feel good sometimes to be lost- and with no direction to home.

The Bloody Fucking Double Standard

I don't ask for much, but there are certain things that when others expect them of me, I would hope they would do the same. For example, I like to study with music- but if someone comes over and I know they may not like studying to the music I like, I turn it off- or they turn it off themselves, and I make no protest. Go to their house and it is a totally different story- you want to watch some children's movie because you are thinking about your niece- ok...fine! BUT CAN'T YOU FUCKING WAIT UNTIL I LEAVE (which would be about 5 minutes later). The list goes on- you have a bad day-you are allowed that, but when I'm in a mood- it's as if I commit some crime- I know you are smarter than to make a comment that will further piss me off- seriously, if you think what I do is so easy, you do it. I've seen the way you write- you would have a hard time doing what I do- let alone understanding what I have to read- it's all relative my dear. Einstein was a great theorist on that- but it seems to have passed your notice.

Or...let's say, with blogs- you make damn well sure I read your blog, but I don't even think you give mine a passing glance...all the better for me I suppose- although a post like this may not be made public...or if it is...well.....you probably still wouldn't notice.

And please, don't play the martyr with me- it wiill not get you my sympathy nor win you any points...or leverage against me for that matter- whatever you have done in the past- hardly is made up for sometimes. And the fact you keep me dangling and make remarks that I can't stand- I make comments and it's as if I killed your mother (let's not mention when I say "your mom!"- as if it is worse than the disrespect you show your own mother sometimes. So please, don't lecture me.

Oh, and your two more years of life, certainly do not qualify you for anything special. And for someone who has seen more people in this world- you sure don't seem to be able to handle them well- or communicate- or get along with anyone. YOu were in Germany for a year and you only have 4 friends from that? and you are in Tennessee for 6 months, and do not make any friends but the people you live with? and then you place the blame on them- obviously, something is fucked up in your brain.

How much more can I write? Probably a novel. On nights like tonight, I just don't want to deal with you. I send you a message asking how your work is going, and you don't respond. Not my problem. I'll just go to friend's houses and see people that I feel would be more worth my while to see- while you wallow in your self-pity.

Happy Birthday to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

In observance of his birthday, let us remember the struggle he engaged himself in, and know that while injustice and inequality still prevail, it will never be over. Until hate and ignorance are eradicated, we must not pause, we must not stop to work for freedom, understanding, and love for our neighbors and enemies.

And to remember Dr. King, the transcript of his most famous speech, given from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, another man who worked for greater equality and justice:

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Martin Luther King, Jr., delivering his 'I Have a Dream' speech from the steps of Lincoln Memorial. (photo: National Park Service)

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

I would tell you....but I might explode

...Ok...this is the post where we find out how weird Bernie can be sometimes. I notice that whenever I am upset, writing helps me. If someone were to ever pick up my diary, they would think i'm either pissed off or depressed all the time (never mind that the dates maybe five months apart). I think giving "voice" to your feelings really does help with the catharsis of those emotions.

I think the weirdest thing I do is that when someone really upsets me, I start to write an email to them (dear Lord! not one that I actually intend to send!). It helps me, sometimes more than writing in my diary because it forces me to put more into context what I am thinking and my own actions. It temper me a bit, not only in my words, but in my thinking as well. But overall, it helps me to give voice to my frustrations when I can't say them directly to the person who is bugging me (either that is becuase they are not right there or out of phone contact or just not being communicative)....which, ultimately is usually a reason for the frustration- sometimes a simple yes, no, or how are you doing would be nice- and not really difficult to do.

Other than that, I play really loud Blood Brothers and jam out to that. Because angry music is the best way to soothe the beast in my mind. Rock 'n roll!

What are some of your ways of dealing with anger?