13 April 2009

Chop, chop, chop

It's so funny how society automatically links (non/conforming to) gender roles with sexual orientation. The three (gender role, gender identity, sexual orientation) are all completely different and unique entities--they do not correlate.

I cut my hair on Saturday, and now sport a fauxhawk/betty boop head (depending on styling). Within 24 hours, I had a girl ask for my number and a friend ask "Hannah, do you like girls or boys more?"

It made me laugh. A lot.
Okay, I'm still sort of chuckling.

09 April 2009


I wish my future grew like tree leaves in late spring, spread across the blue sky in a blanket so vast that only the stars escape jealousy.

I wish my future was a series of numbers jotted down on a napkin or cave wall from some feeble existence or in the mind of an astrophysicist who will never ever let them fall forgotten.

I wish the path wasn't created from tangled curls trapping the grime and doubt at the nape of my neck in the ridiculous hope that I can brush it all aside.

I wish the path was full of Zach's stumbles that masquerade as beautiful pirouettes in a fading sun that has never seen rape, that has never felt fear, that has never wondered

what do I do next?


what do I do about this year's summer housing situation? Somehow spitting out words that don't make sense to anyone else hasn't really helped.

(in case anyone becomes alarmed, the rape references is not a reference to anything that's happened to me so far.)

05 April 2009


I firmly believe in the restorative powers of sleep. Sure, there's that whole "energy" thing--but most importantly, there's that whole "faith in humanity and the world" thing too :-) I'm feeling good about life. Below is a favorite song (guitar by Mike Mennard, vocals by his brother-in-law?).

I refuse to allow disappointments or skewed opinions to extinguish my passion--hence my insertion of "not" in the line "I will hate what I want."

I've got a friend who says it's wrong
to like fast food joints.
but I do.
I realize some people feel it's square
to dig your parents,
but I do.
And here's the key,
my parents love me too.

I've got a Christian friend who says its wrong
to love this world,
but I do.
I've got left wing friend who says its wrong
to love my country,
but I do.
When I'm gone I miss them,
what you gonna do?

I'll love who I choose and be better for it
I will [not] hate what I want
'cuz that's me.
And I think I'll make a stand
even though I know I'll fall
and pay the price for living free
I will pay the price.

If you think you can stop the drugs
If you think you can stop the guns
If you think you can stop the sex
If you've been trying to shut down Christmas
where the hell have you been the past ten thousand years?
And have you no shame for the price of our tears?

This goes out to the opinion takers
This goes out to the policy makers
This goes to the movers and the shakers
If you think that you rule my world
heyyyy heyyyy heyyyyy

I will love who chooose and be better for it
I will [not] hate what I want
'cuz that's me
and I think I'll make a stand
even though I know I'll fall
and pay the price for living free
I will pay the price for living free
freee yeah
I will pay the price for living free
free, free.


I wonder why I've been so focused on a humanitarian path. Humanity sucks. Why do I love humanity when the individuals in my life make me question global worth? Everyone disappoints, hurts, lies, drowns each other in apathy, etc. Maybe each person doesn't do it all the time, yet every second the world is filled with these actions and behaviors. And tonight, my small section of the world is certainly receiving its fair share.

If I was an alien peering into the lives of our so called "evolved/progressed" specie, I would laugh and cry at how pathetic we are.

What causes us to such lengths of patheticness? What causes people to change, or our perceptions of them, or worse--an awful combination of both?

Death dictates our lives. It's not always fear of our own lives being lost, but the death of things like relationships, memories, places, jobs, families, perceptions, and happiness alter our existances in the most profound and far reaching way.

And I can feel Death on my skin.
She is breathing rancid breath
penetrating every orifice
with her wretched poisen
spreading through my body
destroying everything beautiful
from the sparkling eyes
staring back at me
to the passion of the people
She eliminates the love
of nations
and replaces humanity's
nature with pure apathy
as shattered rose-colored glasses
line the streets and people begin
to recognize
ugly Death inside of eachother
I hide, but cannot hide the
from broken bits of
battered souls
left by friendships
She's torn apart
Perhaps the Dark Witch is
but I can still
feel Her on my skin

02 April 2009

Newbold and Plato? Yes, please.

Today was an awful day. Tonight, however, has been fantastic and exactly what I needed for emotional balance.

Zach, Sierra and I went to Crescent Moon an hour before they closed. I looked over classes offered at Newbold and grew excited (not that I'm actually going, but there is a small chance now thanks to Scott--yay for his knowledge and mad computer skills).

I'm interested in (with stars for what really gets me stoked):

  • Literary Topics: Gender and Society in Victorian England
  • Literary Topics: Women's Novels and Feminist Literary Theory*
  • Religion and Violence in Sixteenth-Century Europe
  • Topics in History: The Bolshevik Revolution from Lenin to Stalin
  • Principles of Environmental Science
  • Cultural Anthropology
  • Marriage and Family OR Marriage Dynamics
  • Social Psychology
  • Theories of Personality*
  • Sociology of Altruism and Compassion**
  • Gender Roles in Contemporary Society*
  • Social Thought and Theory
  • Religion and Ethics in Modern Society
  • Philosophy and Religious Thought

While sitting in Crescent Moon's back patio, I had film idea I'm incredibly excited about. Who ever thought a red brick wall could incite such passion? YAY! If I (& co.) ever actually make it, I may post it. I'd love to have it done for squerraldance, but I'm not sure how realistic that is.

Once Crescent Moon closed, we wandered over to the 'lark. The crowd for open mic night had thinned since our earlier stop and this time we were actually able to find a seat. On the couch, no less. The Artist was there, along with the Stoner and the Crochet Queen. I hope I didn't insult the Artist by switching seats away from him. I needed the nearby table to rest my mug of Coconut Chai tea.

I brought along Pysch worksheets to fill out, but ended up reading my new Plato book instead. When it was compiled, it was the only English translation of all Plato's collected dialogues and letters. I found it at Avol's Books in Madison, Wisc. Total stokefest.

I could have felt bad about neglecting my pile of worksheets, but as Huntington Cairns said in the introduction: "To understand Plato is to be educated; it is to see the nature of the world in which we live." So maybe it won't boost my grade in any classes, but I'll take this form of education :-) Sure, this might not be the absolute best version of dialogue forwards and of Plato's work to choose from--but it's the only one I can choose from. I'm content.

Although the grand adventures with Zach and Sierra had to end because of lameass curfew, I'm not ready to end my happy evening. I have Bach spinning on my record player, light from a tall lamp with paints splatters on it's black base, and Socrates' Defense (Apology) to dig into.

Honesty is huge for me. Near the beginning of my book, Socrates says "it becomes obvious that I have not the slightest skill as a speaker—unless, of course, by a skillful speaker they mean one who speaks the truth. If that is what they mean, I would agree that I am an orator, though not after their pattern."

In that case, I wish everyone was an orator. Then, maybe, emotional balance for everyone wouldn't be often so difficult to find.
(no drama, no you don't want no drama.)

01 April 2009

Say the word and you'll be free*

Why can't I ever find the words I need to say or for the articles and papers I need to write? I'm filling out an application for the Generation Equality Scholarship offered by the Human Rights Campaign. I just stumbled upon it, and it's certainly not in my lengthy to-do list. However, I have most of it filled out already.

If it's a distraction, and not for grades, work, or the ClockTower, somehow I'm able to find time, words, and attention to complete it. Maybe because I have nothing to lose if the words aren't completely perfect. Maybe because I won't have to face judgement, criticism, or even critiquing (which I try to convince myself that I enjoy) from anyone I know. I'm so self conscious about my writing--at least my lack of talent in that area. Some days, I feel like my ego is so big that I'm bumping into walls on the opposite side of the room. Usually, though, my self confidence in the writing realm is hidden so deeply within the depths of my being that I doubt that self confidence exists at all.

Maybe I'm pursuing the wrong degree (Communication with a double emphasis in Journalism and Public Relations). I've wanted to be a variety of things "when I grow up."

Age Desired Profession
4 Alien
8-12 Dental Hygienist
13 Lawyer, Detective, or Engineer
14-15 Cultural Anthropologist
15.5 Massage Therapist
16-18 Journalist/Editor for a snowboarding magazine
19+ Public Relations for a nonprofit organization (preferably HRC or Amnesty Int'l)
(Okay, I actually want to open a nonprofit coffee shop--PR is my fall-back)

There are days when I wonder if dental hygiene would have been the right track to follow. I cannot make a string of words sound beautiful--I leave that to vibrant sunsets masquerading as a violent stream of colors. I leave art to Zach, whose lyrics and voice send shivers down my spine. I leave my awe in the hands of Sierra, whose poems I cannot begin to describe.

See, there goes my lack of words again. Yet, I can edit. I can can feel out errors in a paper, article or sentence like a massage therapist finds knots. News articles and press releases? I can manage, sometimes even quite well.

I've taken those (in)famous career tests, and always wind up with journalism, editing, public relations, etc. Maybe I am pursing the right career--now if only I can convince my brain that's true so perhaps it'll spit out some words and work. The way things are going right now, I won't need that HRC scholarship because I'll have flunked out of school.

*Taken from "The Word" by The Beatles