Public groping? Yeah, sure, why not?

Alright, so I'm going to be upfront. I joined this dating site called OkCupid earlier this week. It's pretty fun. It doesn't have any of the stipulations like paying, and it's not at all snobby like eHarmony. This site specifically says that it gives you a "compatibility" score, but that you are the only one who can really figure that out for sure.

They also have a really great sense of humor over there. While filling out some personality quiz or something, one of the questions said "If you have STDs, go here." The word "here" was a link that took you to Match.com. There are also all sorts of surveys and quizzes and stuff to help you judge who you're compatible with.

And it was while answering some of these questions that I stumbled upon this question:

"If the subway was crowded and you were packed against several people just to fit in the car, would you grope the cutest one next to you?... they would never know it was you, much less that they were groped."

Then you had to choose Yes, No, or I Don't Know. Then you have to choose what your "ideal match" would answer and how important that is. But, really, that's a question that can influence who I'm compatible with?

That's awesome!

I sat and thought about it for a second. Then I determined, that yes, I would totally do it. I've always wanted to goose someone, so why not on a crowded subway train when no one could tell either way? But then again, if they were cute, I might want them to know they were actually groped. And if they showed any sign of possibly being interested in me, then I'd want them to know it was me.

So that question is kind of loaded then, I guess. Haha. Either way, I'd totally do it.

And yes, I said that my ideal match would do it as well. How important is it that they answer it that way? Somewhat, haha.

So I guess if I groped and was groped simultaneously? Damn. A match made in naughty heaven.

Not that I like being groped in public by random people or make a habit of groping strangers, but it could be fun...

I Can Still Remember...

I wonder if this applies to anyone else:

I've always known, and yet just recently realized that my memory is, for the most part, spatially oriented. This means that I can remember certain details, certain conversations, based on my physical location at the time the conversation or event occurred. I can also recall facts based on their physical location on a page.

As far as I can remember, I've always done this. When we would have tests in school, I'd be able to remember answers to the questions based on where physically the answer or topic was in my notes or in the textbook. Was it on the back of the page at the top? Was there a doodle on the page? Maybe it was on the front of a page, but somewhere in the middle. Or if it was in a textbook, was there a picture on the page, and how did the text wrap around it? If I could remember the layout of the text, then chances were I could remember the answer, or at least remember enough information to make an educated guess.

I didn't think this was a photographic memory, but is it?

It's not just with academic stuff. I once wanted to test my new memory theory, an idea I had while studying for the AP European History test my senior year of high school. I was thinking about it as I walked into the kitchen to get a drink. I decided to try something. I opened the refrigerator door and thought to myself, "I will remember this moment for the rest of my life." And so far I have. It's an utterly meaningless moment, and yet I willed myself to remember it.

This kind of applies to my skill at memory games like "I'm going on a picnic and I'm bringing..." type games. I once played a version of this game with my friend Mary Ann (about a year ago) and I still remember that "crotchless panties" were mentioned near the gas station across from my favorite record store. A pack of batteries was listed at a traffic light, and a certain friend's crooked tooth was mentioned near, if not in, MA's neighborhood.

There's a spot at the start of an on-ramp for the Garden State Pkwy in Jersey on the way to the airport that reminds me of a conversation I had in which I mentioned "High and Dry" by Radiohead. A little further down the Pkwy in the same direction is a sign that will cue me to say "monkey" as I said it now would upon revealing my skill to my friend TJ who was driving the car.

Whenever I mention this ability to someone, they seem pretty amazed by it. Am I the only one who can do this? Or just the only who does it consciously?

School: Preparing Us For More School

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I've come to the conclusion that I have always been prepared for the pretend world -- that is, school and school-like situations. I've always received good grades. I think I've had like 1 or 2 B's, like 3 or 4 A-'s and the rest A's my entire college career. I'm well adjusted to the learning environment, and all that crap.

But, as we journalism majors seem to be reminded somewhat often, this really does not matter at all. What really matters is experience. A newspaper isn't going to care that you got an A in every reporting class you took. What they're going to care about is whether you can write. Which I suppose makes sense. Problem is, I think I'm more prepared for taking the class.

I'm not ready to be released into the "Real World" (and not just because working at a newspaper isn't my ideal job). I don't think school has prepared me for the "Real World." I know how to do work and answer questions to the satisfaction of my professors and teachers. I'm pretty good at reading them and being able to tell what level of bullshit is going to get me an A. But surely, real life can't be so easy.

Case in point: I took this one class last semester. I'm not going to reveal the name just in case any professors or fellow students or deans or whatever happen to stumble upon this. It was a journalism class, but it wasn't a writing intensive class. Now, I had this professor before, and overall I think he is a good professor. I learn a lot from him, and he's actually interesting to listen to. However, having had him a semester previous, I knew just want I had to do in this class. I knew exactly how hard I had to work, how much I had to pay attention. We had to write 3 papers in that class. I wrote every single one of them the night before they were due. In my opinion, only one of them was good. The other were complete crap. I made up theses and tried to make the research fit what I was trying to prove. I didn't make up the research, I just chose to omit what would be detrimental to my case (Note: the theses weren't complete crap, but they perhaps were full of holes, and I just plain didn't care about them).

I guess everyone does this, but the point here is that I worked only hard enough to get by (albeit, with an A... though somehow I DID manage to pull out a 100 on that final exam. I'm not quite sure how that happened, haha). But what I'm saying here is that I know how to excel at school. But I have this fear that the real world is not going to be like this. I get into classes because I register on time. I get into Honour Societies because I do well in my classes. I get all these privileges and awards for little effort, it feels. And yet, I can't find a job to save my life.

By the time I graduate, I will have somewhere close to $70,000 in loans to pay off. Probably a little more. How am I going to pay those off with no job? After 16 (17 after this year) years of schooling, I don't think I'm prepared at all to live on my own like a normal citizen.

[Though, what little hope I still have left in my being able to create a future for myself is making me seriously consider moving to Georgia when I graduate. I think there are a few career/job opportunities I can work my way through there. And can you believe I'm even thinking about going to grad school? Me -- Ms. Anti-Grad School!... heh... maybe it's so that I can keep going to school and I won't have to worry about this scary place called the "Real World".]

Achievements In Insomnia

For most of the summer, since I've been back in Charlotte, I've been having a lot of trouble sleeping. I don't know if it's the overwhelming sense of not having to do anything, or what. I don't mean to, but I stay up later and later every night, and wake up later and later every day. I have no idea what's wrong, and it seems that no matter what I do, I can't stop it.

It honestly started at the beginning of May when I made my "big" return. At school, the latest I went to sleep was probably around 2am. Lately, it hasn't been unusual for me to not fall asleep until 3:30 or 4. One day I was supposed to drive up to Greensboro with my friend. I had to be up at 8 that morning, but I hadn't gone to sleep but 4 hours before. I try to make myself tired by watching shows online, but I have an alarming attention span. I spent many of that day's wee hours watching old episodes of Ugly Betty on ABC.com.

But that's not the worst. It's gotten progressively more inconvenient since then. I've spent a few sleepless nights lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe getting up to try to read or watch more shows, or play my piano. Nothing works definitively, but I end up drifting to sleep around 6am. A couple days last week, I didn't go to sleep until after the sun was rising and I heard the alarm clock in my parents' room.

But Monday/Tuesday, was my crowning achievement in insomnia. Monday was a typical day for me. I managed to drag my lazy ass out of bed around 1:30pm. I went through the day without much excitement. But then it came time to sleep. Unfortunately, I got distracted by some episodes of Dead Like Me on a website that has a bunch of links to television shows, cartoons, movies, documentaries, and other cool things. Starting around 1am (just under 12 hours of being awake), I found one of my favorite tv shows about grim reapers, and started watching. Before I knew it, it was 4am. I thought, "I should probably try to get some sleep." So I minimized my windows so I could watch later and went and lay in my bed.

Half an hour of staring sleeplessly at the ceiling, and I decided to give the show another try. I watched for a few more hours. I tried going to sleep again at 6am, but that didn't work either. I went for a couple more episodes. At 8:20, still having not slept since the day before, I emerged from my room to make myself some scrambled eggs. They were delicious.

So now it's 9am. I'm a little tired, but I can't fall asleep. I decided to try an experiment. I decided that maybe if I hold on for 24 hours of consciousness, then maybe I could take a nap in the afternoon and then be able to sleep at night. Well, after watching the last 3 or 4 episodes of Season 2 of Dead Like Me (I watched practically the entire second season that night), I decided to try my nap. At 1:30 or 2pm on Tuesday, I napped on the couch. I slept for 5.5 hours. I got up, ate a bit of dinner, watched some more TV and I thought I was set. I was in bed by 1 or 1:30am last night, and I thought, "eggs would be nice again at 8:30," and resolved to make it an early morning to get my rhythm back to sleeping and waking at decent hours.

The trouble is, I didn't wake up today until 2pm. I slept for over 12 straight hours. Fuck me. I guess my experiment didn't work out so well.

I'm going to try again for breakfast tomorrow (this) morning. I hope to be awake in 6.5 hours. Then maybe my whole day won't be a waste. We'll see, though...

(Sorry I write so much. I'll try to cut back.)

Stressful Dream #2

I had a dream last night that my mom hid my piano from me. I don't know why she would have done that, but she did, as sort of a practical joke, I guess. When I realized that it was gone, I flipped out. I went crazy. On the verge of tears, I set out to find it, but I didn't get very far. I walked down the main road outside my neighborhood for a while, but nothing. I didn't get very far though; I didn't have a lot of time.

We had to go somewhere. Like an orientation or something. We were in this house, and there were lots and lots of people there. I think Ultimate Fighter Nigel Hudson was there, but I don't remember what purpose he served. But it was sort of a sleep-away orientation, like when you're a freshman in college, I guess. But I was in a room, and it was nighttime, and I happened to look out the window, and there was my piano, leaning against a tree. It looked like it had branches leaned against it, an apparent attempt at camouflage.

Again, I kind of freaked out. I ran outside and tried to get it, but someone was standing in my way. This is where it gets hazy. I can't remember exactly the sequence of events, but at one point I'm getting sprayed in the face with a hose. A high pressure hose, I might add. It was drowning me. I can't remember if I actually get the piano.

But then suddenly I'm Trey Parker. Or I'm watching Trey Parker tell the story of how he got sprayed in the face with hose. He was telling my story. To his daughter. Who was this like two- or three-year-old blond girl. And then I think a magazine wrote a story about it, but I really don't remember much after that.

But what's up with being drown for trying to retrieve my piano? Does this go along with my other recent dreams of being smothered? What exactly is going on? Do I need to brace myself for something, here?

Even though these dreams are somewhat amusing when I think about them after I'm already awake, I really just wish I could have a happy, non-stressful dream for once.

Modern Day Balladeers

I had this strange realization a few months ago. As far as I know, no one else seems to see this or think this, but every time I think about it, it makes me giggle. No one can really deny that the music industry is run by men. Now, before you zone out, thinking I'm this ultra femme, relax. I'd much rather be a housewife than work in an office as the CEO of some company (of course, I am extremely lazy), but that's sort of beside the point.

But, so everyone knows that men sort of run the whole music thing. Men make up the majority of singers (I'm mostly talking about the pop/rock genre, here). Yes, there have been a few female singers like Mariah Carey or, God help me, Britney Spears or whatever. But I honestly just had to sit here trying to think of their names. This is opposed to the likes of Bryan Adams, Sting, R.E.M., Radiohead, Counting Crows, Hootie & the Blowfish, Edwin McCain, Collective Soul, Live... hell, even Eminem. I could go on. Men are more widely known and accepted (and those names were just the first few that came to mind). How many female rockers can you name that have had long, fulfilling careers? Or hell, even if their careers weren't that long and fulfilling, how many of them do we still remember (and we're ignoring one-hit wonders from both sexes)?

I'm sure they do exist, but I cannot think of any of them right now. So, considering that, in our culture, men are the singers. So, what is singing? I'd define it as an emotional expression of feelings and thoughts through a tonal and lyrical medium. But wait, aren't those typically "female characteristics"? Aren't women the ones who are typically stuck with the trait of being sensitive and caring and emotional and whatever? And yet, here are all these men making a living being just that.

I'm not saying that men can't be emotional or sensitive. I'm just saying that they are traits that are associated with women, and yet are clearly visible in every single male musician. And we accept that as fact. Does anyone else see this as ironic? I'm not saying it's bad, it's just interesting. And it has been going on for centuries. Just think of the wandering balladeers. As far as I know, none of them were female. Who was more sensitive and charming and emotional than the balladeers?

And so, after coming to that conclusion, every time I really think about a guy being a singer, it brings a smile to my lips and a giggle to my throat. Singing just feels like such a female quality, that it makes me laugh whenever I think of a man doing it. (It's really the same concept as poetry being female, though there are arguably more examples of successful female poets than there are successful female rockers).

Perhaps the deeper issue I'm getting at here is this: there is a societal double standard on men, saying that they cannot be sensitive or emotional or express their feelings without being labeled "gay." UNLESS they're a singer. Then it's okay.

And it's this double standard that is ironic and amusing. It's the reason society both fascinates and irks me. Guys can be phenomenal singers. I'll take a male voice over a female voice any day (depending, of course, on whose voice, haha). But singing just seems like such a female thing. Maybe it comes from other genres of entertainment where females are more dominant. Like musical cartoon fairy tales. Growing up, I used to watch that old Cinderella movie almost daily. Ol' Cindy sang while doing chores, to the mice, to herself, whatever. In fairy tale movies, most of the singing is done by women. Maybe that's why, when I move to another genre like more popular music, the fact that most of the singers are guys is a little... off.

I don't know. I don't know how to explain it any better. It's just something that amused me. And as I'm listening to a guy I know sing in a register he's perhaps not that comfortable singing in, the irony really makes me giggle... (I still love his songs and his voice though).

Just thought I'd share.


(Here's another interesting thought: why is it that when guys are singers, they are labeled sensitive and slightly less masculine than a fireman [though still acceptable], but when women attempt to be singers in the same genre, they have to "butch" up, they have to be tough and kind of bitchy, like Avril Lavigne, or Meredith Brooks [remember that song "Bitch"? That's what I'm talking about]? Singers, it seems, can bring in both sides of sexuality to create entities that are both gender-bending and socially acceptable. Hmm...)

Death of a ThinkPad

My laptop died today (or yesterday, as it is almost 2am). It seemed to be working fine earlier today. I glanced at it/checked the time probably around 5:45 this evening, and when I came back to check my email about about quarter to 8, there was a black screen and a tiny whiter cursor blinking in the top left corner. I don't know if this could be considered "blue screening" as the screen was not blue. Then again, it may have been blue when it started its death throws, but alas, I was not here to witness it.

So, here I am, typing away on my parents' computer. Man, this thing is old. I used this thing to write my Senior Exit Paper. Talk about memories. I was on this computer about 3.5 years ago when I smelled toast even though no one had been cooking, prompting me to wonder if I had a brain tumor. It was also here, sitting at this computer, that I had a breakdown whilst doing pre-calculus homework in 11th grade. I threw my book and my notebook across the room. I still remember the ripping of paper, and how much I didn't care. But this is also the computer where I attempted my first musical mix. I recorded myself playing "Mad World" on the piano in one file, and recorded myself singing it in another, and then spliced to two together. Now, I'm not a phenomenal singer, but the end result was pretty snazzy, especially since it was the end result of Windows standard Sound Recorder and a shitty monitor microphone (and also perhaps my first experience in something that I may want to continue pursuing).

But fond or not-so-fond memories aside, it really pisses me off that my laptop died. I'm not really sure what happened. I think the fan stopped working, causing it to overheat. This happens a lot though, but the tech guy at my school (who issued me the laptop) said that my computer must have been in pretty bad shape. But, he also said that there was a really good chance at getting all my files back. Which is a good thing. Almost all my recent writing is on that computer, along with some digital songs files -- all files I've been meaning to backup on disk, but haven't gotten around to doing yet. Also, my password for online registration is on there, and as one of my classes got cancelled and I now have to register for another one, I'm going to be needing that soon. But the tech guy also said that I could send the computer to them and they would fix it, and restore all my files (hopefully), so I guess I'm alright.

I'm still pretty bummed though.

Oh, and I still don't have a job.

But, on the brighter side, I am going to see Editors in NYC in September. Heck yes!

Much love,
Christina

Cold Feet

I had a couple of dreams that I was being smothered last night.

In the first one, I was in bed with John Krasinski (Jim from The Office). It wasn't like that -- not really, anyway. We were lying kind of perpendicular to each other. For some reason he had one of his legs on top of me, just laying there. It was kind of holding me down. I have no idea what that was. I woke up, but decided that I really didn't want to be up yet, so I went back to sleep.

Eventually I had another dream. I was sitting in my house and Zach Braff was dating this girl I went to high school with. But he was actually interested in me. I was watching them through my living room window, and when they were done talking, she walked away and he came in my house. We promptly started making out, haha. I felt bad though; I don't want to be a homewrecker. The girl from high school came back and she was mad at me and probably calling me names. I really, honestly felt guilty about the whole thing. But according to Zach, it was all going to be okay. And then we made out more. But then suddenly there were feet in my face. I think they were Zach's, but I can't be sure. And they wouldn't go away. It was probably one of the strangest dreams I've ever had.

By themselves, they're just weird dreams. But together, they make me wonder why the hell I feel like I'm being smothered. I have no job (though hopefully that'll change soon). So there's no responsibility there. And that's really it. I have nothing pressing to do on a daily basis. But then again, maybe that's what's smothering me: the hopeless, useless feeling. I've started having headaches almost daily, something that I haven't experienced since my senior year in high school. But they're not just regular headaches. They're like pinching, throbbing pains almost constantly.

Still doesn't explain why I had feet in my face, though...