If You Can Play...You Can Play.

I am so proud to call myself an NHL fan today.
I love seeing Scott Hartnell and Claude Giroux in this PSA.

This weekend...warning-language.

Wow to this weekend. Just wow. I still feel like I could go on a long string about my priest. But I won't. I've made my opinion well known.
I will say that it's not just the clergy that's royally FUCKED UP in this Church. Some of the people who think they're "good" are really fearmongering, torches-and pitchforks at the ready, pompous, pious assholes who truly believe that their knowledge surpasses common sense and basic psychology.

I visited my grandparents today. I got approval from my grandfather for my financial setup, which was nice. It's good to know at least one person thinks I'm not a complete bimbo. And I found out that my hatred of milk is hereditary. He uses fruit juice on his cereal. I've never seen my father eat cereal. And I use almond milk because cow milk is nasty. I get the ketchup thing from pop too. Haha!
I also got a little slap of disapproval from my grandmother for *thinking about* getting a tattoo. (She doesn't know I have one....muhahahahahaha!)
She also said I was weird. Because...
Jello freaks me out.
I'm scared of roaches.
Centipedes make me nauseous.
Clowns and nutcrackers freak me out.
I can't sleep in rooms that have mirrors in them.

I still feel stuck on this freakin' paper. This weekend has me frazzled and distracted as hell. I'm exhausted. and really not in a good mood, despite three people breaking me out of my rut today.
Calgon, take me away. :/

Don't Stand So Close To Me.....

    Good Morning Everybody!
    So I'm on Spring Break now, but it doesn't really feel like a break because I still have like six trillion things to do. I have this one assignment for my research paper that has had me totally tripped up for about two weeks and I still can't get into the jam of it. Frustrating.
    Every morning I have two things that I usually do: go to the Keurig and make myself coffee, and log in to my various homepages so I can read my mail and the morning headlines. I was logging into my work email and saw this curious little article: Teacher, 41, files for divorce and quits his job to be with former student, 18.
     This is an odd situation. Basically, this teacher met this student when she was a freshman, and over time they became attracted to each other, now they're together. They say nothing really happened until she turned 18 and he quit his job. Her mother says that she doesn't believe that because she has records of them having around 8,000 text messages and emails. The real kicker in this situation is that this guy taught at the same school his daughter goes to. She's a classmate of his now girlfriend.
     The two things that immediately jumped into my mind here were "mid life crisis", and "wow, did you really have to go about it like THAT?" The girls mother is saying that she thinks her daughter was groomed into this, which is a possibility. If so, that's f***ing sick.
     If the two of them are being honest about not acting on anything until she was legal and he was no longer a teacher, then the only thing I can really say about that is that he really should have waited until his daughter graduated.
      Whatever this dude is going through is not his kid's problem, but now that girl's life is going to be social hell because of his actions. She's not going to be able to show her face in those halls anymore, who are we kidding? This dude claims that he wants to salvage a relationship with his kids. I really can't see that happening, considering that his daughter's life is going to be all mucked up now and she's probably creeped out. His divorce...well, nobody but the family really knows the state of that marriage. It could have been kaput long before this, who knows?  But wow.
    I'm pretty leinent about weird situations and age differences, because it doesn't really phase me in my own life. My own partner is fourteen years my senior, actually. I've always been of the school of thought that if you actually do go through a situation like these two did, it would be right to wait it out to eighteen (or preferably a bit later than that). I think it's also really important if you end up falling for somebody who's literally the same age as your kids to keep your family in mind. They came first, and it should be that way. A dude making his daughter alienated as all hell by weirding her out will wreck their relationship completely. I don't think I'd ever get involved with somebody who had kids that were my age for that exact reason. If I really liked whoever it was, I'd stay far away because I didn't want to ruin some other, long standing and really emotional part of their lives. That just isn't worth it. It's just a moral hangup of mine. In my eyes, that's just something I couldn't look myself in the eyes in the mirror for anymore.
    I don't know what's up with the couple in question. I will make a prediction though- they'll probably call it quits because of what gets said in the media.
    Thoughts?
     

I Don't Usually Write Stuff Like This...Or Post Terrifyingly Bad Pictures...

     I don't usually think much about when celebrities die, but Davy Jones has me choked up a little. When I was around ten or eleven years old, I went through this weird phase where I was obsessed with The Monkees, especially Davy. I had a couple of episodes of the tv show on an old VHS tape, and I think the second or third CD I ever bought was The Monkees' Greatest Hits. I can still picture being in front of the huge stereo in the living room playing it. I still watch the show when I catch it on Antenna TV.
     When I broke my arm rollerskating and I just got my cast put on, I remember my mom ordering out food (I had chicken fingers..big surprise) and I watched the Monkees reunion show on tv. I remember being really excited and happy because I had my chicken and I got to watch Davy Jones!
     I even have a school picture that has a little Davy tribute in it. Before I describe this sad excuse for of a picture, I want to tell you guys that I am the QUEEN of terrible school photos. Anybody reading this who's my brother or sister, or my best friends from grade school will attest. Anyway, in this particular picture I had my red and white Seuss-hat looking striped sweater on...and I was holding one of those cheap ass tambourines that you used to see in the toys section of the grocery store. (Do they even still have that section???) It was an orange plastic tambourine, and I was sitting with it and grinning stupidly into those blinding lights they use on Picture Days.
      It might be weird, but despite the fact that I was born decades after their heyday, I have really vivid memories of The Monkees from when I was little. I walked down Chestnut Street singing along to "A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You" tonight on the way home from school. And you know, just like I was happy being a kid with that cheesy tambourine, I did not care that people were looking at me weird.
       RIP Davy.


(PS...just to show you how serious I am about my awful school pictures...here's two of the BETTER ones. I'll see if I can find the tambourine one sometime soon.)

Ever have times you feel like THIS?

Student Life. Not sure if I'm showing my age or if I'm just really, really neurotic.

            I really have not decided on what it is I actually want to do. I’ve always know that whatever I ended up doing for a living would have something to do with communication, law, or education. After my disastrous experiences with my high school counselor and psychiatrist’s office, I started to think about working with at-risk teens and young adults. I don’t know how I want to do that just yet, but I really look back on my own experiences and I can’t help but wish somebody competent was actually there to help me get to the very root about what was going on with me. I had a lackluster counselor who really only had one urge: to satisfy my father and push her one solution on me. Needless to say, it didn’t work.
I have felt very much brushed aside by the school system from that moment on. I tried (twice) to go back to classes when I was in high school, after screwing around for a while.  I got really discouraged the first time I came back, and the second time I was told that 1) I could never finish on time because I was undercredited and overage, and 2) That I shouldn’t even bother trying to get into another option…that I should just drop out. (Yes…that is almost a word-for-word quote.)
             I’ve been toying around with the idea of either Psychology or Law for a few months. When I first started at CCP my major was Education, but I realized that being a teacher wasn’t exactly what I envisioned when I thought about what I really wanted to do. Right now, I’m a Social Sciences major. I’m considering taking my BA in Psychology after this, probably by doing a dual BA/MA program at Drexel or another Philadelphia-area college. After that…I don’t really know. I know that I’m going to end up with a graduate degree, but I’m not sure if I want to get a license to practice law or become a shrink. I guess that’s going to be a bridge that I’ll cross once I come upon it. Who knows, maybe I’ll end up in a job I like once I’m done my master’s and I won’t feel a need to go to go further at all.
            I’m getting the feeling like looking at the big picture right now is making me overly anxious. I still have a healthy four to five years between here and grad school. I think part of me is being impatient because I started college so much later than everyone around me. There’s probably some self-consciousness lingering around in my crazy little head because of that. It feels really weird to watch everyone else LEAVE while I’m just finishing my freshman year.  I know that really shouldn’t matter, but it’s a nagging thought.

It's funny how movies can make you think sometimes, isn't it?

     I actually don’t have anything particularly gay to talk about today, except for mentioning that I watched Kissing Jessica Stein last night. If you’ve never seen it, the rundown is pretty simple. Girl journalist has awful luck with men, and gets called out on being ‘too picky’ by her ex/boss. There’s a personals ad that her friend comes across in the paper with a quote that miss journalist had just read…only…it’s in the WFW section. On a crazy, bicurious whim she answers it. The women awkwardly traipse through a lesbian relationship; complete with the journalist covering up their relationship by saying her girl is her “friend”, etc… The pair go through the relationship, the relationship dies of lesbian bed death, and they remain friends afterwards. The journalist is kind of left ambiguous, because they set her up with her ex /boss again, and her girlfriend is seen with another woman.
     Now that’s all very gay, but the driving point of this movie has a lot more to do with how we view ourselves when it comes to human relationships. The delightfully bisexual characters in this movie really were pretty spot on when it comes to figuring out that you’re bi.
     Watching this pretty much got me thinking about my own dynamic in relationships, my types, and all that. Everybody has their preferences, and bisexual people are no exception. There are a lot of jokes out there that we’ll pretty much boink anything human that moves, but that’s never ever been true for me.  Obviously, like any responsible person of ANY orientation I steer way clear of any kind of disease I can catch, and I’m a real stickler for getting all parties involved screened for HIV before anything remotely physical happens.  The phrase “herpes is forever” should be mentioned here, too.
     All that being said, I think there’s a difference between “picky” and “careful”. Everybody has their preferred type, sure. That’s normal. For me, if the in question potential partner is a guy, he’s always older than I am (usually by enough to be noticeable) and always has dark hair. Most of the time, they’re either Italians or Nikki Sixx wannabes. For girls, I cannot get into butch chicks. Being bisexual, I don’t see the point. It’s not my thing. The other weird thing is that I don’t usually like white women. Normally we look like birds and it’s just not attractive to me. Usually.
     Having a type is not what I’d consider picky. Picky would be having this ideal person who’s absolutely perfect in every single way in your eyes and expecting every single date you go on to be “that” person. Picky would be those people who go on and on like Jack Black’s character in Shallow Hal. I think picky is also a front for self esteem issues a lot of times too. There seems to be this very real issue for people in deciphering what they admire and want for themselves, and what they want in another person. For example,  Girl A thinks that she wants to be ‘with’ Girl B because Girl B  has an outgoing, shiny personality.  The girls would date for a while, and then the traits that Girl A thought she liked about Girl B get annoying. They split, and Girl A blames the entire scenario on Girl B not being “enough”. What really happened there was that Girl A saw things in another person that she wanted to be/have for herself, and was not aware that the problem was really with herself and her self-image, not  with her “crappy” partners. I’ve had mad girl crushes like that, especially when I was 17 or so years old. It was easy to confuse what I “wanted” with” what I wanted for myself”.
That was pretty much the realization that miss journalist was given in Kissing Jessica Stein. It was pretty thought provoking because when you apply thoughts like that to all of your failed relationships, you sometimes look back and see that it really WAS you, not them.