So like, all I want to do is procrastinate for finals by spending time on the add/drop classes website for Winter quarter, but I can’t rearrange anything until my future bio professor emails me back and I am antsy
today I turned in my first logic problem set; bought coffee; met with my advisor; officially declared Anthropology; got a haircut; let them blow out my hair even though that probably wasn’t necessary; felt fabulous (took selfies); met with the principal at the elementary school where I’m running PhiNix’s after-school dance classes this year (she liked my plans yay); read for class (Nothin’ but Blue Skies, Edward McClelland — a veryvery good account of the Midwestern Rust Bowl situation); went to creative writing (academics en lieu of the first night of Recruitment); bought coffee again during our break (it’s a 3 hour class); came home to the apartment I really, really love these days… eating a mozzarella/spinach/tomato sandwich // going to finish up a grant application (first day back at work tomorrow)
I’m happy even though this morning feels like yesterday
We’ll never be the same after seeing this parody of “We Can’t Stop” on “Saturday Night Live” this week. In “We Did Stop (The Government),” Miley Cyrus plays Michele Bachmann, Taran Killam plays John Boehner, and they both show way more skin than we ever wanted to see from those Republican politicians.
"la da di da di, Republican party, reppin’ GOP, doin’ whatever we want"
“The (500) Days of Summer attitude of “He wants you so bad” seems attractive to some women and men, especially younger ones, but I would encourage anyone who has a crush on my character to watch it again and examine how selfish he is. He develops a mildly delusional obsession over a girl onto whom he projects all these fantasies. He thinks she’ll give his life meaning because he doesn’t care about much else going on in his life. A lot of boys and girls think their lives will have meaning if they find a partner who wants nothing else in life but them. That’s not healthy. That’s falling in love with the idea of a person, not the actual person.”—Joseph Gordon-Levitt (via kialavanyaa)
“Now that I’m an adult, describing Sailor Moon is a little embarrassing… but here’s the deal: Sailor Moon is a magical girl who goes to middle school by day and uses miraculous powers to battle evildoers from outer space by night. Everything about her is feminine, from her pleated mini skirt to the sparkling backdrop of her transformation sequence. She is also a clumsy gluttonous crybaby, an F-student, and as boy-crazy as a cat in heat throughout the first season. Despite all of her personal shortcomings, she dedicates her life to fighting for, as she puts it, “love and justice.”
This was a world where girls were fighters. Where they could eat all the food they wanted. Where they could cry.”—
This show/manga was so brilliant because she was, in fact, all of the above, and she was still depicted as strong. All of the Sailor Senshi presented a different type of femininity, all of them were at least a little “girly”, and they were each and every one of them warriors.
“You will hate Los Angeles." That’s what English people said to me when they heard I was heading west, to the land of low-fat milk and sugar-free honey. You’ll hate it, and be back in a week. Some of them, I suspect, were showing off their worldliness. They’d been to Los Angeles many times, seen through its glitter, tired of its ways. Others inflected their prediction with a sort of menacing imperative. You will hate Los Angeles, if you know what’s good for you.
I love you, I hate you: you might call it a mixed message, if the message weren’t so unmixed. You’re allowed to love Paris, up to a point, New York, more or less, Dublin and Glasgow, definitely, but loving Los Angeles is just plain wrong. Oxymoronic, in fact – if you promise to go easy on the oxy.
Los Angeles, and especially the abbreviated LA, has become a byword for the shallow, the ephemeral, the vain – and it is the duty of any right-thinking Englishman, properly cask-aged in rainwater, body dysmorphia and sarcasm, to scorn it. And it’s not just the British press who feel this way.
The rest of the world, and much of America, treats Los Angeles with the same weird mixture of envy and snobbery – qualities that ought to contradict each other, but somehow never do.
Well, I warn you now, I’m heading in the other direction. I’m sticking up for the beautiful city of Los Angeles. That’s right. Beautiful…”—