My Mid-Grad School Crisis.

I blame my parents and teachers.

They believed in me. They told me I was bright, special and full of potential. While they were filling my head with thoughts of grandeur, I was doing very little. I never felt like I was pushed to apply myself. Everybody around me was more than satisfied with the minimal amount work I put forth. My whole life I devoted very little effort to anything academic, yet I was still managed to rise to the top of my class. Even in my undergraduate classes, I spent little time worrying my work. I never worried about grades. Things had a way of falling into my lap. In fact, I started to push the envelope on how much I could slack before starting a project. I would get this sort of adrenaline high from completing a project just in the nick of time. I would chuckle to myself when I received my grade, "If this is the grade I got without trying, just imagine if I actually applied myself."

Now in graduate school, I find it hard to shake my bad habits. Unfortunately, people don't seem to find me nearly a brilliant as the people in my past. It's as if they want me to try harder, and I just don't know how or what they want from me. So here I am, rethinking all my life decisions.

I think the reason I never put much effort into anything is because I have this intense fear of failing. Or maybe I was never as smart as they said I was. I am fraud. I have tricked them all for the last twenty-four years, and it seems as though the jig is up. My luck has run out.

I have never quit anything. I have never failed anything. I will find a way to make things better. I am sure that smart young woman is still somewhere inside buried beneath layers of idleness and sloth. I just need to figure out a way to coax her out and teach her how to work. I need to figure out how to do this soon.

In Defense of the E-Reader

Because nothing says "procrastination" like writing a blog post.

Ah, yes. To e-read or not to e-read? That is the question. Currently there are several camps in the Great E-Reader War, and I am not talking about Nook v. Kindle (For the record, iPads are stupid and don't count). There are several groups that have strong feelings about the use of e-readers and their place in the world of literature.

 As technophile and a book lover, I often find myself at a crossroad. As cliche as this sounds, I love the smell and feel of books. When I was growing up, I found that most of the kids in grade school and junior high either too cruel or too stupid to deal with. So I used a rather escapist strategy, and fled to the different worlds within my books. Other times, I would read to escape the doldrums when I finished an assignment. There was a long period of time when my sister and I spent every afternoon in the local library. I still have dreams of one day owning a personal library like the one in "Beauty and the Beast" (rolling ladder and all). The smell of libraries and book stores has a calming effect on me. I currently have a position in the school library, and my favorite task is gathering all the books that people requested. I love to wander the musty stacks; Often times, I find more books for myself than I do for the patrons. I love feeling the pages. I even like the risk of a possible paper-cut. It's a battle scar I can discuss over a beer. "Oh, this one? I got this one from spending a late night with Aldous Huxely." I dog-ear pages and write notes in the margins of my favorite books. I love looking at my bookshelf and seeing an entire collection. So, yeah. I love books, but more than that I love the simple act of reading.

Cue my technophilia: E-readers are convenient. With out-of-copyright literature, I have my choice of thousands of classic pieces for FREE. I don't need to drive to a library or the book store. I can read the Epic of Gilgamesh, switch over to Leaves of Grass, throw in some Austen or Shelley (depending on my mood, of course), and finally settle on something by Oscar Wilde while sitting at the beach. At any given point in any given day, I carry with me several hundred books (Not to mention the PDFs of countless journal articles).  Also if I buy a newer NYT bestseller and/or "fun" book like "Chelsea Bang Bang" I can do so at a discounted price, and they don't take up my very limited space in my tiny apartment. So yeah. I love my e-reader too.

When I see internet memes like the Judgemental Bookseller Ostrich or read the comments of  the Hyper Critical "Jezzies", I cannot understand why people are trying so hard to keep this firm grasp on an antiquated past. We should be embracing this new technology, not running from it. It makes literature more accessible to both the casual and avid readers.

And have no fear, the books that truly move me will find their permanent place on my bookshelf.

How Firm Thy Friendship, Ohio?

Once again, I am glad I am living on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.  I hear talk of the beach and how bad the weather has been. Sometimes I hear talk about theoretical framework, but I tend to tune that out. I don't hear any talk of Tressel, Ohio State, or shame.

First, I am going to bore my faithful three readers with a delightful anecdote. Picture it: Columbus. Oct. 25th, 2008. The Horseshoe. A Deck. First quarter of the OSU/PSU game...
 A few of my girl friends and I were enjoying the game, cheering on Buckeyes. In front of us stood two twenty-something dudes wearing blue and white. Yeah, a couple of Penn State fans chose to watch the game from the middle of lion's den. Behind us stood (I use this term loosely) some of Ohio State's less-than-finest. They were shouting some unsportsmanlike comments at the Penn State fans. The boys in front of us didn't react, but they did look nervous. Perhaps they had made a bad decision? Not even halfway through the first quarter and the locals were restless. Sensing their uneasiness, my friend, B., turned to the inebriated Buckeyes behind us and asked them to refrain from the unsportsmanlike language. They turned their anger towards her. I prepared myself to jump in, but then this conversation happened.

B: Hey! What would your mother think if she heard you say these things?
Boy: My mom's a bitch! I don't care! *high fives bro*
B: Ok... Well, what would Coach Tressel think? *quizzical eyebrow*
Boy: Oh....
B: Would he say what you said was "classy"?
Boy: No. Not really....
B: Ok. Well let's keep it classy... for coach.
The boys immediately apologized the PSU fans and later were too drunk to noticed we had lost. They were too busy talking to the Penn State fans. TRUE STORY.

That's what Coach Tressel meant to the community. He is more than just a football coach. He was the image of classiness and sportsmanship. At some point at every single party, there was a toast to the man in The Vest.

Ever since Tresselgate broke a few days ago, I have changed my feelings about 17.6 times: denial, rage, embarrassment, rage again, hope, shame, sadness, rage again, melancholy, numbness, malaise, etc.
To say I was/am upset is a gross understatement. I was/am pissed. Pissed at Jim. Pissed at the players. Pissed at the media. Pissed at non-Buckeyes. Pissed at Buckeyes. Pissed at myself.

I kept holding out hope, that this was huge misunderstanding. Jim Tressel would never do something like that. He is a stand-up guy. He has integrity. He has class. He wrote a book about winning at life (not in the Charlie Sheen way) for, pete's sake! He is slow to anger. When he is angry, he doesn't shout. He maintains class under pressure...


I will never know what was going through his head when he received those emails. I won't pretend to ever know. No one will ever know. To speculate is wrong. Was it pressure to win? Was it paternal instinct for a few stupid kids? Was it just a "rational" decision? Some odd combination? Did he have a really good burger at Thurman's and just forget about the whole ordeal? No one except Jim Tressel will know what went through his head the moment he opened his email account and the months that followed.
What would you do? What would I do? I could bore you with story about my days as games supervisor at Cedar Point (Short story:  I let a friend get away with not shaving because I was short staffed and got in trouble).  It doesn't matter. We weren't there. Who is to say what we would ever do in a situation? We just don't know.

What's done is done. He made a mistake. He should be punished. Yes, his (and the program's) image is tarnished (for now). BUT we should not punish him because of his air of integrity prior to this scandal. He should be punished for his offense. He is human, thus fallible. We have to remember this. His punishment should only be based on precedented cases, not based on our feelings towards him a person. If we are harder on him because he is a "good guy," should we take it easy on the "bad guys" because that's what we expected from them? The shame and disappointment are already added into any punishment for the "good guys." Objectivity is key.

I am not calling for his resignation. I think those who do are blowing this out of proportion. Unless he is found to have helped set up Pryor's paypal, he does not deserve to be fired. After all, in the grand scheme of things he did NOT: hurt someone, sexually harass anyone, or pay to recruit players. He lied to protect a few dumb kids who sold things they believed belonged to them. It's bad. He should do his time for the crime, and then we should all move on and learn a lesson about this.

I believe that people (fellow Buckeyes) are especially angry because of the way information travels this day and age. Non-Buckeyes have been gloating on Facebook for the past couple days. They feel vindicated that the Great Jim Tressel has been taken down a peg. It hurts a lot. It sucks. It's embarrassing. But remember back when Woody punched a kid on television? There was no Facebook or Twitter. It sucked, but his legacy has remained mostly intact. He was inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame just five years later. Am I saying we should build a "Jim's" in the Union next to "Woody's"? Not exactly. All I am saying is that we shouldn't turn coat or call for his head on a pike as soon as something embarrassing happens. Let's take a breath and wait to see how everything turns out.

Time and change will surely show... How firm thy friendship, Ohio?...

Attention People of the World

There are major differences between marijuana leaves and buckeye leaves. It's time you learn them so you can leave me alone.

Many plants have leaves with five leaflets. The buckeye tree is one of them. "The leaves are palmately compound with five (rarely seven) leaflets, 8–16 cm (3-6 in.) long and broad" (Wikipedia 2011).
Also, it is a symbol of pride for many Buckeyes. I happen to have a tattoo of a buckeye leaf behind my ear. It was made to resemble the sticker that is placed on The Ohio University's football players' helmets.

This is NOT a marijuana leaf. I repeat: NOT MARIJUANA.

Typically when drawing pakalolo, artists give the plant anywhere from seven to nine leaflets. Also, the leaflets are much narrower and longer than other plants' leaves (eg. the buckeye leaf).

This IS a marijuana leaf.

So the next time you see a young person walking down the street  with a bright green leaf on their shirt (or a small tattoo behind her ear), count the leaves before passing judgment.


Remember one thing:

IS NOT

 










Now that you are aware of a few differences. Please. PLEASE. Leave me the fuck alone. Thanks.

"Why Are You Still Single?" And Other Things You Should Not Say Jan. 13, 2011

“Why Are You Still Single?” And Other Things You Should Not Say

Winter break = Mainland Adventures
During the few weeks I spent in Ohio, I spent several days in my little hometown in southern Ohio. As with any trip home, comes the awkward reunions with old classmates, friends with whom I have not stayed in touch, and past acquaintances (the little old church ladies are the worst). After the initial salutations, people expect some sort of short synopsis of my life since graduating high school. I give the run-down: Blah blah, Ohio State, blah blah, Grad School, Hawaii, blah blah, archaeology. In turn, I inquire about his or her life because it’s the polite thing. The response almost invariably involves something along the lines of getting tied down and/or knocked up. Then the next move is ALWAYS asking me of my relationship status, at which point I want punch the person in the throat.**
Are you kidding me?! I just told you I study ARCHAEOLOGY in HAWAII. Fucking Hawaii! And the only thing you can come up with is “Have you found someone yet?” You couldn’t come up with any other question??! Hell, ask me about the fucking weather before interrogating me about my love life! Is that what makes a person truly interesting? Will I hold your attention longer if I had managed to pop out a few brats in the last few years? Why is my worth as person defined by my relationship status and not my achievements? Is my level of success less because I haven’t managed to “wrangle a man” yet?
 
The worst, and I mean absolutely worst, is when a person asks in earnest, “Why are you still single?”
Because I am a cold-hearted bitch with commitment issues?
What do you want to hear from me? I realize that this person is trying to pay me some sort of weird compliment by asking this, but it is a really backward way of doing so. I would much prefer if the conversation went something like, “Wow, you are supah cool and like smart and stuff. I wish I hadn’t been so hasty in my decision in pledging myself to my current partner. I would totes sex you up.” At least this way I am not left questioning my self worth.
Let’s think for a moment that I am perfectly happy with the way things are. Not content… Not settling… But happy….”Single and Happy?” Blaspheme! Truly this girl must be putting on some sort of brave facade as she pretends to embrace her lonely spinsterhood at 23. She is a creature that needs to be pitied. And hopefully, one day some poor sap will scoop her up and end her misery.
Fuck. That. Noise.
Sooo… We eventually say our goodbyes and I walk away seething. Then I remember that I don’t actually care what this person thinks, otherwise I would have stayed in contact with him or her. All is right in the world again. Cue: skipping off into the sunset.
Moral of the story: If you run into an old friend/acquaintance do not ask of their love life right off the bat unless they freely volunteer the information first. Surprise! People are way more than who they are attached to.
Also, I look forward to being a cantankerous cat-lady with a clowder of kittens (how is that alliteration for you?). I will be sitting poolside, sipping gin and tonics, and harassing some pretty young thing named Javier.

**Note: I have yet to actually punch a person in the throat for this offense.

Mele Kalikimaka, Mother F*ckers Dec. 14, 2010

Mele Kalikimaka, Mother F*ckers.

I LOVE CHRISTMAS. Everything about it. I love the lights. I love the trees. I love the food, the movies, the smells. I love giving presents, and I love receiving them. I especially love the music. I firmly believe that November 1st is the official start of winter tune season.
It’s the one time of the year, I don’t mind seeing snow. In fact, I almost like seeing a winter wonderland outside; provided, of course, I am not forced to be in it for anything other than play time. There is nothing that takes the merriment out of snow more than having to march through it on your way to class, work, or the bar. Or worse, having to smoke outside in the cold.
I am stoked to see my friends and family in Ohio for Christmas. I feel like I will finally get into the holiday spirit. There is something about palm trees and 80 degree weather that seems a little off. It’s my first year here. I am sure I will get used to having awesome weather for Christmas, but I have been pretty homesick.
Oh yeah. If anyone asks me why I would rather be in Ohio than Hawaii for Christmas, I will punch them in the face. Yes. I like the tropical weather, but I miss my friends and family. The End.

Maybe next year people can join me in Hawaii so they too can enjoy looking at displays like this one… And you know, not freeze to death.

Dear Glee... Nov. 11, 2010

Dear Glee…

We are breaking up. It’s not me. It’s you. You aren’t the same show I fell in love with.                                                                                                      Sincerely,                                                                                             Jenny
Yes. I enjoyed watching people who are waaaay to old to be high school students sing covers of pop songs…
Cue flashback:  It all started when I heard Brad Falchuk and Ryan Murphy were creating another show. I loved the early seasons of Nip/Tuck and even stuck around way after the show went sour. So I was actually excited to give this new show a try. I watched the early pre-season preview of the pilot and thought, “I can get into this.” After all, I grew up in Ohio, was somewhat socially awkward, and I sang in the Varsity Singers when I was in high school.
Not to mention the eye candy is quite yummy.
Then I forgot all about the show. It wasn’t until my friends started talking about it that I decided to give it another try. The DVD of the first half of the first season had just come out so I borrowed it from a friend. I was hooked. The writing was fairly entertaining. The humor was slightly dark at times and campy at others. I loved it. Besides who doesn’t love rock songs played as a Capella show tunes?
Cue downward spiral: I watched the second half of the season with fellow Gleeks and had to hide my disappointment with each and every new episode for fear of being maimed by the people who thought the “Power of Madonna” episode was actually good. The clever writing disappeared, and the show simply became What-Pop-Icon-Can-We-Suck-Up-To-Next.  Thanks to Joss Whedon and NPH, there was one great episode. Also they got rid of Jessalyn Gilsig who had one of the more interesting, albeit insane, characters.
This last episode, “Never Been Kissed,” might have turned me off for good. Not only was the music completely over-processed (I.e. “Teenage Dream”), but the plot was just… bad. The whole giant-neanderthal-bully-is-acting-out-his-frustration-because-he-is-actually-gay thing was way too cliche, and it overshadowed the one bright shining spot in the whole episode — Kurt’s blossoming romance (Damn my weakness for gay boys). I found the treatment of Bieste offensive and not funny. The whole character is just sad: a larger, masculine looking woman coaches football and she is really good at it, but has a dismal personal life. Oh and her name is Biest (pronounced like Beast)
Really?
I really want to know what the writers were thinking. “Oh! Let’s make fun of her appearance the whole episode, then we show everyone that uglies have feelings too. Let’s make her a super pathetic 40 year old who has never been kissed. Then we make the hot teacher give her a pity smooch.”
Yes, because that’s what every single person who has ever felt ugly or like an outcast wants. Fucking pity.
Why couldn’t she be happily married with a nice husband who loves her? Why can’t she be sleeping around, getting plenty of ass? Why can’t she have an awesome life doing whatever she wants? Why did they write her as this pathetic, sad character? For that matter, how come the only other overweight character is without a love interest? Being of amazonian size myself, I would like to see a bigger character get the love and attention she (or he) deserves— without pity.
So kids, the take home message is that if you are fat (therefore hideous) you will probably die alone, EVEN IF you are a GOOD person.  If you are lucky, a good-looking person might feel bad for you just enough to look past your gross exterior and at your sexy heart.