On a Friday Night...

Was what I was going to title my blog yesterday, after I returned from the ACTC Women's Studies Conference, and then set about doing all my homework.

Which I didn't. I found Cameron in a tree in the park, and then watched How I Met Your Mother until I fell asleep... after a particular roommate hurt my feelings in relation to my sex life. "Why are you a dick?" I asked. "That's just who I am." I seriously wonder how they can find fulfillment if their, "Who they are" consistently puts people down.

Then I realized, that by calling them, "a dick" I am feeding into the gendered oppression that I hate. How is it that I can feel ok calling someone a dick, while getting mad about words like bitch, or cunt? I look forward to leaving the safe bubble of college, and seeing what color my world will take.

So I went to bed feeling bad about myself.
And woke up feeling bad about myself.
Nathan and I were going to go on an adventure today, but because it was cloudy and cold, and I had my mom mad at me about sending grandma some sheet music, and I hadn't done any work the night before... I was not in a comfortable head space. Nathan, being the gloriously understanding human he is, told me to take care of myself, and then brought me a sandwich.

Unfortunately, I did not conquer the world after eating that sandwich... instead, I fell asleep for four hours... which I want to justify as, "Well, I must have needed it..." but... argh.

Anyway. The Women's Studies conference yesterday was amazing. I presented my Occupy Wall Street research, and met some really cool people.

My other goal this week was to get into the student juried art show... but I didn't see my painting left in the gallery... soooo... maybe entering is enough to check that off my list.

Ok. Now I am going to try to write about philosophy.

Kathleen Watson

This is a tale of love, and of scorn, that began many years ago.

Many said years ago, I became acquainted with an intriguing honors classmate, Kathleen. Kathleen was in theater; she was extroverted and had the coolest friends. I became her friend, and we'd sit in Crockett's class talking shit about our fellows.

One of them talked too much, so we'd time her.
Kathy was intense, so we mocked her.
Andrew was hot, so we made eyes at him.

As our friendship grew, we did everything together. No clothes basket mountain, or car ride through Seward went unconquered. It served to reason that two fine girls as ourselves would make a fantastic home together.

And we did.

"Isn't it great that we're not dating, so we can never break up?"

And then we broke up. A whole summer of silent resentment, lead to a fall of discontent. Finally, that winter, I fled into the welcoming arms of Erica Malloy and my life took a whole new turn.

Kathleen and I weren't bitter... the relationship just had to end, wounds healed, but I never expected to really get back to the way things were.

And now, years later, we sit together on a porch, singing along to the mix tapes we made each other. We've both changed a lot. I know that I have grown more secure in myself to be comfortable being on my own, which are traits that if lacking, a shy kid fresh from the woods could easily find herself caught up in someone else's world. Kathleen also, I feel has come more strongly into herself, ready to approach life with confidence.

So this is a story of hope and assurance. Time can really change things. Especially time spent in such formative years.

Here's to a friendship renewed!

She thought of them as a 4-H Project

Proclaims a magnate that my Mom's best friend gave her.

It features a picture of a woman looking clever, with two men on horses in the background.

Lately I've been wondering if I consider my boys to be Primary Sources from the early 21st Century.

Is it ok if I too, am a primary source?

Small Town Minneapolis

My current Facebook status expresses, "Because college teaches you more than academics."

I post that in answer to my own question of, "Why shouldn't I feel bad about exercising my social energies, going out, networking and meeting people that could some day help provide remarkable opportunities."

Minneapolis is a small town.
I've seen it happen to Visser, when bit by bit the edges of your network expand to envelop more and more circles, until finally, you know everyone.

For example on Wednesday I met a girl named Cate. "Augsburg? Do you know Magdalen?"

"Of course! She's going to let my snake eat her mouse!"

Then, it's always mind blowing when you go on facebook to add your new friends, only to discover you already have 5 friends in common. One guy also on Wednesday got dropped off at Seven Corners. Cameron knows people at Seven Corners, so I said I know people there, and then, upon friend request, I find that Cameron already knows this guy because he's roommates with his friends. AND he knows Kathy, because he met her at a show once.

Thursday, after going to Tracy's with my Philosophy class, I met a successful man at the Acadia. We talked about economics, identity and the world. He gave us a ride in his convertible, and before he left, he said he could hook me up with a job at Sawatdee. That is a good connection to have, especially as I start trying to figure out how to live this summer.

My social energies are running on fumes. I wasn't going to be extroverted yesterday... but...

NOBEL PEACE PRIZE FORUM.

One can't simply hide quietly in her bed while a million socially minded college kids from the Mid-West have gathered in the living room. Ah.

It was good.

I talked to Jacqui yesterday. I said I wasn't worried about my research paper, she laughed at me. ... So today, after I Skype with Colin, I'm going to hit the books with vengeance. ... because College is about academics too.

Ear Plugs

Before practice yesterday, I stopped by target and bought a tooth brush, a four pack of Red Bull, and a 12 pack of ear plugs (with convenient travel case!).

I was excited to use my new ear plugs and consequently NOT lose all of my hearing... but it just so happens, that when you put ear plugs in, you lose all of your hearing.

I took them out half way through the first song... but I really should have just played louder to hear myself.

My rock and roll life style continues, with only a little bit of identity crisis.

On Tuesday, Rocksteady had a band meeting, where they talked about their feelings, and plans for the future. From what I was able to pick up on yesterday, their plans for the future are pretty big, as they become more and more a significant act in the Minneapolis/St. Paul Ska scene. There will be travel. There will be beer festivals. ... and it seems like I will be a part of it.

I hope.

It's still hard to tell.

There will be a follow up blog one of these days where I discuss the feminist implications of playing in a punk band.

I'll get good, and I'll learn how to tear up solos, and they will have no reason not to need me.

~~~

I'm hanging out with Axel and Petie again. House sitting over Christmas is easy, because I show up here, and never leave. This time I have school, and social obligations, so I've been run, run, running.

Yesterday for example, I slept through my first class (didn't do the reading :( ), ate lunch, and biked the 5 miles to Uptown. The dogs did their thing, and then I rode the 5 miles back. THEN, at 5pm, I rode to Lake Street for practice, practiced, and then rode from there back here. I haven't ridden my bike in weeks, and I am surprised I am not more sore than I am.

Because this weekend will contain so much physical activity-which is something my life lacks- I'm going to try to use it to kick off a spring health regimen. ... also because there is food here... a whole bowl of fruit, and a fridge full of eggs and cheese... and ice cream. So, besides the ice cream, I can be replenishing my bicycle weary body with good, substantial nutrements.

Then, by spring time for real, when I'll be playing shows in sleeveless shirts, I'll be rocking what Beth called, "Michelle Obama arms." Yes. I must also cover them in tattoos.

Maybe.

I've been thinking tattoos again, with mixed feelings. I never actually have to see my Hare if I don't want to, so I wonder what it would be like to have something on my arm, where I'd see it all the time.

What do you think though? Out line of a wall eye, on my right arm, positioned just so the pale white of forearm's underside makes the pale white of the fish's belly. His face would be right by my wrist, so even in sleeves, an angry wall eye face could peek through.

Then again, last week, without knowing of any tattoo plans, my dad said, "If anyone ever asks if you can draw a wall eye, just say no." Maybe that's a sign.

Another idea is an outline of a trumpet on the back of my left arm. This would be more balanced with the Hare, and could be symbolic of my entering the trumpet world... but I also don't want it to be pretentious. Who am I to call myself a trumpet player?

Anyway, this blog got long. I think lots of it is me not wanting to enter the cold, outside world. I need to be at school by nine for improv, which I didn't practice for. PRIORITIES!

How do you support your Rock and Roll Life Style?

Ok... well. I guess it has been a while.

There are just so many things going on that I can never decide what to blog about... so I never do.

For example:

History Major's Senior Seminar on the year 1968 with Jacqui deVries that is the only thing standing between me and my History Degree... and the work for which I should be doing RIGHT NOW!!! I've already been slacking, and this class is important. Soon, I will start researching for my THIRTY PAGE PAPER. I plan on doing it on something relating to youth organizing, perhaps even in the Twin Cities (So I can use the History Center's archives!) and then of course adding a twist of sexual politics and gender roles. Woot!

An amazing winter break, spent at home in Ogilvie, dog sitting near Cedar Lake, and many nights in Anderson bonding with my rockin' Environmental House.

Speaking of Rocking... I've also been playing a band.
The Brass Messenger rehearsals went well, but I had not yet grown the balls necessary to rip up a solo at that point, and since giving their music back, they haven't said anything. Maybe, if nothing else, I'll be on their sub list, which is better than nothing.

Because of the Brass Messengers and my fan-dom, I got connected with a trombone player from another local band, which is also pretty great called Rocksteady Breakfast. I've rehearsed with them twice, and after practicing almost every day for two weeks, I spontaneously joined in at a show on Friday. "Playing shows is like drugs," Francis said, and after playing a couple songs that I actually knew, to a crowd of screaming fans... I'm hooked.

So yeah.
I'm a rock star.

Now I need to figure out how to keep rocking, AND get homework done.

Oscar Wilde + Ms. Swenson

Even though it wasn't really Ms. Swenson who fertilized my love for Oscar Wilde, in fact, it was Mr. Borris, and only because we read "The Importance of Being Ernest", and even then only because Uncyclopedia quotes him all the time, Ms. Swenson began churning my feminist intellectual brain into the overworking queer power house it is today.

I post because I came across this website:

http://www.nyu.edu/library/bobst/research/fales/exhibits/wilde/0chamele.htm

I've only read the first part so far, but now with all of my (unexpected) women's studies training, this really gets me off, and astonishes me how the Wilde connection can be traced back to my "Youth." ... "Adolescence" if you will... assuming I've passed that.