I Broke My Heart: My New Year's Resolution

I'm sitting on my couch and I'm thinking of New Year's Resolutions. I'm sitting on my couch thinking about how terrible it is to be aware of another person's expectations of yourself. I'm thinking about how terrible it is to know you aren't meeting them.

I'm sitting on my couch. I'm thinking. Cogito ergo sum.

I'm thinking about how I always feel pressured into giving some snarky, bullshit answer to inquiries about my resolutions. Last year I said that I had resolved to become more conventional and take up a college cliche or two, like binge drinking.

I'm thinking.

I think that most people have their public resolutions and their private resolutions. Public resolutions are those resolutions we feel like we need to have in order to satisfy other people's expectations of us. We offer up humorous promises to develop alcoholism, or give out statements asserting a new ideal like being more positive or making sure to pay one persona compliment a day. Bullshit platitudes to makes sure people around us don't think less of us.

I'm not going to get shitfaced every night, and you're not going to remember to tell that nice lady in HR that her shoes are cute. No matter what we say, we actually have no intention of following through with our public resolutions, I think for the simple fact that we don't make these resolutions for ourselves. We never do. They don't matter to us. Why would you do something that doesn't matter?

Then again, many people spend a great deal of time doing things that don't matter to them. Working. Charity. Marriage.

I'm sitting on my couch and I'm starting to think about the snowmen.

We make private resolutions much in the same vein as we make public ones. Only, we make these promises with the intent to satisfy our personal expectations of ourselves. I promise to be conventional so that when I make half-assed attempts to be more sociable I can feel less guilty about not having any success. So I can go home at night and read a book and be alone in my room and not feel crushed under the weight of being found somehow wanting.

We make these private little agreements with ourselves in order to satisfy some intrinsic and false need to feel as though we will progress, as though we will change into something better. Into something we feel better about being.

I'm still thinking about the snowmen.

My mother brought home these two mugs from work that the staff had received from parents (preschool teacher perks). They are those kinda tacky holiday shaped ones, you know, like the ones that are invariably re-gifted right after receiving them?

These two mugs are shaped like the heads of snowmen who have for some reason been dressed in a manner that suggest they somehow feel cold, even though they have physical bodies composed entirely of frozen bits of water. Like even though they are every bit as frozen, temporary, and savage as their environment they can still feel frightened of having to face said environment. So they've put on this armor that is supposed to protect them from feeling the truth of what they are made of.

Tacky ceramic holiday mugs just got deep, eh? Just wait, there's more.

Anyway, my mom brought these mugs home. They had been filled with packets of Swiss Miss Hot Chocolate (the kind with marshmallows) and green peppermint candies.

My mom took out the goodies, and then set the mugs on the counter. I walked by, looking for a snack, and stopped. I picked up on of the mugs a looked at it for a long while. “This is cute,” I said. The hot chocolate and candy had been set on the counter next to the second mug.

“Parents from work. Your Aunt ***** gave me the one she got.” She nodded to the second mug. “I'm just gonna put them in the gift box.”

The gift box was the box of odds and ends we collected that could be feasible offered as gifts to loved ones. Soap. Candles. Children's craft sets. That sort of thing. I looked back to the mug in my hand, and then turned the second mug around and looked at them for a while.

While both of them were obvious snowmen, but one of them had been subtly manipulated into taking on a traditionally feminine aspect. And by subtle, I mean that it had large pink circles painted on its cheeks, and its carrot nose had a distinctly soft and feminine up-turned curve. I was looking at a masculine and feminine pair of snowmen mugs.

I looked at them and saw that they were in love.

I looked at them and it occurred to me that the snowmen were what I had to look forward to in life. The tacky ceramic holiday mugs were perfect examples of how the world treats people. The world, other people, look at you and then by fright or might they reach into your mind and claw into your heart the they take away anything they think has value, like taking the candy and discarding the mug you got it in. No matter how armored you've tried to make yourself, not matter how many hats and scarves you bundle on, the cold always gets to you.

And then we turn look in the mirror and discover that the brutal world we live in, the ice and chill, is what we are. We try to dress it up, and defend against it, but every single on of us is made of cold and frozen snow as cold and frozen as every other person who has ever hurt you.

I think I broke my heart a little, looking at those snowmen mugs.

Cold as they were though, something about the boy snowmen mug had put a smile on the girl snowmen mugs face, had inspired a little color in her frozen-white cheeks, even though such a biological function is not possible for her because she has no blood and is made of snow.

There was something about the boy snowmen mug that was worth smiling about, and there was something in the girl snowmen mug that was capable of smiling, even though everything that other people had judge worthy and valuable had already been ripped from them by the cold, cruel world, and then scattered about.

I saw them, and my heart broke because they were more true than any other false pretense of warmth and love I had seen this holiday season.

I'm thinking that I am going to take the snowmen mugs and put them somewhere in my room where they can be alone and in love together, simple and empty and free.

I'm thinking that my New Year's resolution is going to be to try to be like a tacky ceramic holiday snowmen mug.

I'm thinking I'm not going to bother with public or private this year.

Have a great 2013, guys. So long and good night.  

My Top Ten Most Heroic Characters

I use the term "hero" very loosely here, for a lot of the people here are closer to antihero than actual white knight, noble warrior-type heroes. 

1. Captain America/Steve Rogers (Marvel)

Captain America. He needs no explanation.

2. Harry Dresden (The Dresden Files)

http://flickumbicus.tumblr.com/post/17952577060/thegeek531-fandombrain-tdfangirl

The Dresden Files was a series I picked up out of boredom about a year and a half ago, and ended up falling in love with; mostly because how darn hard the protagonist works to do right and be a good person, despite the endless--and I mean ENDLESS--pain this causes him. In book one he manages to get off instant-death wizard probation after years of being persecuted for defending his own life, resulting in the death of his evil wizard, mind controlling foster father, and honestly it just goes down hill from there. But no matter what, Harry Dresden just keeps going.

3. Crowley (Good Omens)

http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/Good-Omens-Green-Fingers-95710313

The set up of this book is a happy little dichotomy, about a demon and an angel facing the end of the world. The demon less evil, more vaguely sinister for the fringe benefits of getting to wear black sunglasses and drive a cool car. The angel less good, more generally fond of books and tea and a little too sympathetic to the human race. But the demon, Crowley, is my favorite for the fact that among his more heroic actions in the book include taking on a pair of upper demons with spray bottles of holy water. 

4. Samuel Vimes (Discworld)

http://browse.deviantart.com/?order=9&q=sam+vimes&offset=24#/d4am2sf

Gosh. My hands down favorite Terry Pratchett characters. What makes Sam Vimes so damn heroic to me, is not just that he's pretty, much a walking bad ass but that his sheer awesomeness is in part due to the fact that he knows he's not some lily-white lawman, crusading for justice. He's a bitter, sad, angry, vengeful cynic, who is brutal in his quest to protect his city and resolute in his duty. He's not a great man. He probably wouldn't claim to even be a good man. But he is as straight as an arrow, and by God, he will never bend.

My favorite moments of him include him announcing "We can rebuild him! We have the pottery [in regard to a golem]." and him storming into battle in a dark underground passage, to which he fell at least fifty feet and then was carried by an underwater river, with the heart breaking battle cry of "THIS IS NOT MY COW!" Terry Pratchett: it makes sense in context.

5. Aragorn (The Lord of the Rings)

What's not heroic about Aragorn, is what I'd like to know. He is the reluctant hero/unknown king stereotype. In fact, barring the Bible, he practically invented this stereotype in modern literature. He's just... awesome.

6. Cyclops/Scott Summers (Marvel)

Oh, Scotty. He's a sad guy. His father was abducted by aliens, his little brother was lost to him for years, a head injury prevents him from ever controlling his lethal superpowers, his friends have several times abandoned him, his first wife was murdered after turning dark side and wrecking havoc on his loved ones, his mentor has betrayed his trust too many times to count, his people have been persecuted for years, he's now a member of an endangered species, he's now responsible for the protection and leadership of every remaining member of that species, he's been regularly going into potentially lethal combat situations since he was, like, fifteen, he's had to watch teammates die, he's had to watch his son die, and most recently he's being forced to go up against the force that lead to the death of his wife. And he's still sane, though not exactly healthy, and he still keeps fighting. Scott Summers is a tank.

7. Hellboy

He makes his own choices and lives his own life, destiny and fate be damned. What's not awesome and admirable about that?

8. Gabriel/Loki/The Trickster (Supernatural)

A minor character, but one that leaves a powerful message on this show, though he's only in like, four episodes. Maybe five (?). In Supernatural, the biggest themes of all are brotherhood and family; Gabriel's character starts out as a nameless trickster, and then is later revealed to be Gabriel, the arch angel, in hiding on earth as the pagan Loki ever since his brother's went to war in Heaven.

When confronted with the impeding repeat performance in this war in the form of the Apocalypse, he at first tries to run, to hide, but eventually finds his feet. He not only defends the Winchesters from the pagans, but defends them against Lucifer himself. To quote his dying speech "Play the victim all you want, but you and me, we know the truth. Dad loved you best, more than Michael, more than me. Then he brought the new baby home and you couldn't handle it. So all of this is just a great big temper tantrum. Time to grow up."


9. Jackson “Jax” Teller (Sons of Anarchy)

Jax is a compelling character, very much like Hamlet. He's caught between his duty to his family, the group he's pledged his loyalty to, and his own happiness and love. He's caught between the ghost of what things are, and what they were meant to be. Inner conflict is at the core of his existence, as he tries to do the "right thing" though he's never quite sure what "right" is in his world.

10. Bobby Singer (Supernatural)

Another call to Supernatural, Bobby is awesome. He's one of a rare Hunters who's actually survived into middle age and is the gruff mentor/father figure to the Winchesters. He also has a sad, tortured past. He killed his abusive father when he was still a child, and later was forced to watch his die, not once but twice, due to supernatural means he was helpless to stop. He is (was) the seasoned warrior that guided the younger heroes, and he fought until (and beyond) the end of his life. 

My Top Ten Favorite Movies

1. Rio Bravo
   
   I really love Westerns, and I really love John Wayne, and this movie is my favorite of both categories. 
   
   
2. Inglorious Basterds
   
   I'm not one to shy away from violence or gore, and I love the characters in this movie so much, and admire Tarantino's films for not pulling punches. While Kill Bill is another favorite, Basterds wins for it's fantastic dialog and excellent cast.
   
   
3. The Great Mouse Detective
   
   This is a childhood favorite of mine, and honestly was one of two Disney movies to ever actually frighten me. Rattigan was one scary savage bad guy.
   
   
4. Hellboy
   
   I just really like Hellboy. I like him a lot, and this movie is probably my favorite comic adaptation ever.
   
   
5. Captain America: The First Avenger
   
   Because Captain America.
   
   
6. Bottle Shock
   
   This movie is a fantastic gem. An independent film starring Alan Rickman and Chris Pine, among others, Bottle Shock is funny and quirky--an underdog's tale in the best sense of the word. Based on the true story of the 1976 Paris Tasting, where America emerged victorious despite the odds and prejudice against them.
   
   
7. The Song Catcher
   
   Another independent gem, this movie is wonderful, and tells the story of a woman professor of music  in the early 1900's heading up into the Appalachian Mountains and making a musical discovery that astounds her, and meeting people that confound her. A drama, so expect to me emotional. Also, has one of my favorite love stories on film in it.
   
   
8. Casablanca
   
   I'm a sucker for an old classic. What can I say?
   
   
9. Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
   
   I literally watched this move once a day, every day, for over a year of my life. The books were my obsession for years, and I still love them.
   
   
10. Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame
    
    The other Disney movie that terrified me when I was little, I've developed quite an affection for it as I've grown older. This is possibly my favorite movie soundtrack of all time, as well.

Introduction and My Top Ten Favorite TV Characters

I feel bad that I have a for realsies grown-up blog, and I don't actually blog on it. See, I don't much condone an interest in politics or current events and the public discussion of fandom is mostly relegated to my tumblr. I end up leaving myself principle-ed into a writing conundrum. What on earth do I have let to write about, if not about politics, current events, or how much I love comic books?

Considering all this, I got to thinking a few weeks back about what I should write about on here. I know in the past I've tried out my humor writing chops, told a few childhood stories, given some advice, even posted something like a journal or diary entry a time or two. Then it occurred to me: I pretty much write like a magazine for young persons with questionable priorities, except for the ads and top ten lists and fashion and pictures and actual interesting articles or valid opinions on current events.

My errors realized, I decided to rectify my lack of both top ten lists and pictures.

So I decided to write up a bunch of lists as a blogging challenge to myself. I came up with ten ideas for top ten lists. Then I realized that most of them sucked and would be too hard to write and cut it down to only six. Over the next few weeks (or months, I'm not good at this consistency thing) I'll be posting my top tens lists, with pictures for the enjoyment of whoever is bored enough or psychologically unsound enough to be interested.

The first list up is..... TV Characters!

1. Crowley (Supernatural)
   
   
   
   
   
   I love Crowley. So much. He's smart, sassy, straight up classy, and evil to boot. What more can you ask for? 
   
   
2. Bones/Dr. Leonard McCoy (Start Trek)
   
   
   
   
   
   While I have a lot of respect for a well written intelligent character, the heartfelt Leonard McCoy wins over Spock every time. Bones is just great. I love how loyal he is, and how relentlessly humane he is in every situation he every gets hauled into, no matter how alien it turns out to be. DeForrest Kelley is impossible to beat, but Karl Urban does the role justice in the reboot.
   
   
3. Daria (Daria)
   
   
   
   
   
   Considering my love of cartoons, Daria is the show I wish I had been able to grow up with. While it was a few years before my time, I identify a lot with the issues the titular protagonist encounters and I learned a lot about how to be brave enough to be myself by watch the show. Also, one of the few shows where I actually have genuine respect and affection for the main character.
   
   
4. Shore Leave (The Venture Bros.)
   
   
   
   
   
   In a show filled with characters that make me explode with liking, the one I have to say I respect the most is Shore Leave. In short, his character is a gay super spy with a sailor motif right like something out of the Village People. He's hysterically funny, competent (which is a huge bonus on this show), joyful, surprisingly deep (maybe) and just plain fun, especially as a Sphinx (Sphinx!) Agent in the most recent season. 
   
   
5. Gregory House (House)
   
   
   
   
   
   I debated a lot about including House on this list. See, I absolutely loved the show, first three seasons. But then after that.... I absolutely did not. It went down hill, in a really bad way. But I'm a sucker for a broken person, and Gregory House is most definitely broken, as well as smart, snarky, compelling, and a complete asshole. 
   
   
6. Tig/Chibbs (Sons of Anarchy)
   
   
             
   So, I couldn't decide who I adored more from Sons of Anarchy, Tig or Chibs--so I went with both. Tig is an adorably lovable psychopath, while Chibs is a sad sad sad man, with a sad sad sad history. They're both well-developed and well-written characters in a sharp and dramatic show that never ceases to impress me.
   
   
7. Captain Jean-Luc Picard (Star Trek: TNG)
   
   uff
   
   My answer to who's the better captain, every single time. Captain Picard has every other captain beat for class, ethics, intelligence and badassery. Also, he's played by Sir Patrick freaking Stewart.
   
   
8. Giles (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)
   
   
   
   Like many others on this list, intelligence is the trait I most enjoy in this guy. Giles is the very epitome of a Badass Bookworm. He's the mentor character, which is always a fun one for me, with a troubled past and a wealth of knowledge that he uses, like the wise old awesome guy he is, for kicking ass and taking names and just plain doing what needs to be done. He's the character I loved at the start and he's the character I loved at the end.

    9. Duke Crocker (Haven)



Haven was a show I didn't expect to like as much as I did. I watched it on the recommendation of a friend, and don't regret it one bit. While I debated including the show's main character Audrey Parker instead of Duke (I love all the main trio to pieces), I went with the rogue character instead for entirely shallow reasons. Eric Balfour is freaking hot and I enjoy looking at him.

10. Elisa Maza (Gargoyles)
    
    
    
    A blast from my past, Gargoyles is a cartoon that I remember being head over heals for when I was itty bitty, and then a few years ago, I ran into it again on the internet and rediscovered why I loved it so much. Awesome flying monsters, fantastic bad guy and a seriously competent, beautiful and role-model-worthy  female lead in Detective Elisa Maza.
    
    
    Honorary Mention:
    
    Harvey Specter (Suits)
    
    
    
    

Tumblr Cross Post: Why I Love Captain America

So once again I am up later than I want to be, and I want to write something.

I'd like this something to be a story, a poem, something fictional and striking and beautiful. Sadly, whatever angry and bitter muse I got stuck with at birth doesn't feel like letting me do what I want, and seems to will that I suffer writing some thing else. Anything else, really.

So I'm going to write about responsibility and what it means to me. I'm going to write about why I so love both Captain America and Steve Rogers.

Heh, you weren't hoping this would be more serious, were you?

Alright, about Cap—if you didn't already know Captain America's mild-mannered alter ego is known as Steve Rogers—I love him more deeply and more personally than I've ever loved another human being (wow, that doesn't sound creepy at all). But, I don't mean that in a if-he-were-real-I-would-throw-myself-at-him-he-is-sexy-personified kind of way. I mean it in a you-are-the-hero-that-I-most-relate-to-and-so-I-feel-a-personal-connection-to-you-that-I-rarely-feel-for-anything way.

Captain America is pure, noble, brave, strong, the American Ideal made flesh. Steve Rogers is an asthmatic art student from Brooklyn who believes in his country. I hope you've all at least seen the movie and know how those two are connected. Steve's choice to become the super soldier was also the choice to sacrifice the right to assert his personal agendas over the agendas of Captain America. While Cap and Steve are the same man, they are not at all the same person. And this is what causes what is commonly known as conflict.

I've heard it said that people dislike Cap because he is self-righteous, stupidly idealistic, has no compelling personal conflict, is boring or is just plain unlikable. That he is a tool of the government and what he does means nothing because he is what he was created for, or worse, is nothing more than patriotic propaganda. I mean, yes he's a patriot, I mean you'd have to be to undergo huge needles and radiation treatments in the name of serving your country, but patriotism isn't all he is, not in the least. Usually I swear at such people who express these opinions, then proceed to extoll the virtues of Steve Rogers as the freaking perfection that he is. I try not to be a rabid fangirl, but I fear I don't always succeed.

The thing about Steve is that he's not a hero because the government made him one, he's not a hero because the rest of the country viewed him as one, he's not even a hero because he goes around thwarting villainous plots or saving innocent lives. He's a hero because he has the courage to own the label that was placed on him.

Getting a label put on you by another, as I'm sure many of you would agree, is not often a good thing. And the worst thing about it is not that this label might hurt your feelings or make you feel self-conscious or bad about yourself; the worst thing about a label is the obligation to live up to it. It's a stressful process, whether you're just known around tow as a “good guy” or if you are called the “successful one” out of a group, or whether you're the good sibling. Unfortunately, the way other people see us has tremendous influence over us, because one thing each and every person (barring maybe sociopaths and axe-murderers [who are probably sociopaths]) hates to do is to disappoint those he or she loves and respects.

It's not that what people think of you actually matters, it's that what people you care about think of you does matter. And we will spend our entire lives trying to unify what these people think and what we think of ourselves into a single at peace individual, with very little success. I know in my life I've yet to unify anything more significant than butter and toast.

Steve Rogers has the wisdom to realize that the people of his country think a great many things about Captain America.

I've read many of the comics, and there are several points at which Steve considers retiring Cap, considers living his life as Steve. But each and every time he realizes that Captain America is more than a mask and shield. Steve recognizes that Captain America has never been a man. He's always been a symbol that means many things to many different people. Captain America is Steve Rogers' label.

Living up to what others think of us is probably the hardest thing anyone can do. It is hard because we are human. We have flaws, and we are never as good as others think we are.

Steve Rogers has time and again made every personal sacrifice so that Captain America can be as good as the people need him to be.

I use the word sacrifice a lot, not because I lack vocabulary or access to a thesaurus, but because it is the only word that really describes the choice that Steve is always facing. Let me tell you, Steve Rogers is not exactly a happy camper in his everyday life.

He's woken up 70 years (or less depending on your medium) in the future, has lost his dearest friend, lot his love, lost everything that made him Steve Rogers. To simplify an issue, Steve is a little bit depressed.

But despite the fact that being Captain America has been the cause of his greatest pains and losses, every time the question come up, Steve acknowledges the duty and responsibility that Cap has and picks up his shield, puts on that costume. He makes the choice to embrace his label.

Unlike some heroes in this day and age, I don't think Cap and Steve are one and the same. I think that Steve is not Cap, but perhaps Cap is a conscious decision made by Steve.

And that's why I love and respect both Cap and Steve so much. I confidently say that is there is one character I would most want to be like, it's Steve Rogers.

So yeah. This fan opinion/rant/sales pitch thing is over now.  

Warning: What Follows is a Rant--Proceed with Caution

So my internet connection is lagging, and my outraged crusader personality is rising and my sleep is just not doing, so I'm gonna just take a moment to rant about a little “thing” that really bothers me.

While I was performing my daily quota of obsessive cyber-stalking the blog of one of my favorite authors (http://www.ilona-andrews.com/news/publishing-news/librarians-vs-bloggers) I was alerted to a subject that I guess in making the rounds of book-oriented blogs around the web. It's a whole whole blogger vs. librarians thing that is quite interesting and that I have lots of thoughts on, but is not actually what this post is written about.

Now, I love my blog and I love other peoples' blogs. And heck, I love librarians. I've had good and bad experiences with both sources. BUT I DON'T RELY ON ANYONE TO TELL ME WHAT TO READ AND WHAT NOT TO. I don't pay any attention to recommendations when I look for new books to read. I don't really know why. If you buy me a book, I'll read it. Give me a book, I'll read that too. That just manners. But I buy books based on personal interest and individual discovery and research. Book s are the only thing I'm like this with. Just know this so that you might understand that I am utterly and totally nonplussed by this whole thing. If there was a box marked N/A I would be checking it right about now. The following is as close to being objective as I can get. I want everyone reading this to know that I am absolutely not intending to actually talk about this bloggers vs. librarians debate. THIS IS NOT WHAT THIS POST IS ABOUT. I only use this as an example.

Anywho, as I was perusing the comments and searching out more information on the matter (see, I'm sane and not creepy at all, I'm so cas' using big words my obsession isn't unhealthy...) I noticed that there seemed to exist an opinion or rather a trend really in the responses and arguments; that one side was better than the other. Both people and sides were being subjected to what I have come to think of as “quantification.”

Quantification is a name I have given to phenomena that I have observed as a grown up member of a society, where judgment and jockeying for a scrap of superiority is an accepted, and sometimes encouraged, practice. It usually goes like this:

Person A: This is this and it is good because of reasons.

Person B: I have a this, too, and it is more good because of these better reasons.

It can also go like this:

Person A: This is this.

Person B: Your this is so much good because of these reasons I don't have.

The sort of root of the argument discussed in the above blog post on author(s) Ilona Adrews site, not the root of the issue that started the argument, is that recommendations for what to read come from two different sources—blogger or librarians and that one side is the superior and deserves more.... something. I admit, I got more and more sidetracked by my brain than by the actual post and detail on what was going down. As I read I realized that what was really getting my goose about the whole issue was the need for the arguers or quantify their book recommendation source with a title and thus assign a certain amount of merit to it.

I think the end of Ilona Andrews' blog post says it all “I am so tired of this mentality of bloggers vs authors vs booksellers vs librarians vs readers. Can it just be about books?”

Why do you need to argue about which source is more valid? When did reading books become some sort of competition. Honestly, I think that behavior suggests more about your own need to be validated than the slighted honor of what you are so violently defending.

I mean, you sound like you discuss books like “I got this book recommended to me by an industry professional the librarian/an acclaimed internet book reviewer so you know it must be a superb piece of literature, regardless of whether or not I really enjoyed it”

I feel real bad for your friends if you talk to them about books like this. I have devoted two years of my life and many thousands of dollars to studying and reading books and even I don't talk about books like this. If I do, I should wonder why someone hasn't performed an act of charity and smacked me in the face by now, or checked for an alien mind control device.

Why can't you just walk up to your book buddy and say “Hey, I got this recommendation for this cool book. It was really good, you might enjoy it.”

Because honestly, where you got the recommendation doesn't matter, so long as it was a book you read and were able to form an opinion about or derive some amount of enjoyment from. Read your books, and share your joy if you feel like it.

I see this issue of quantification jump up in a lot of different areas of life. The whole “Strong Female Character” issue is another bug example of it.

Every time I see this term thrown around I think to myself—Hey, character creators, how about you stop worrying about writing a strong “female” character and just write strong characters? Why does gender need to dictate the need for strength to be emphasized or contrived? Shouldn't everyone be strong, regardless of gender? Aren't there all kinds of ways of being strong? Because I'm a girl, does that mean that I have to be “female strong?” I can't just be strong?

Or when you talk terms of success. I've been told several times in my life that I should be so proud of my accomplishments because of where I come from. Usually this is uttered in contrast to the accomplishments of another individual. It feels like a slap in the face every time.

First of all, why is someone other than myself passing judgment upon what I have done? It is or for me and me alone to determine what things in my life are worthy of pride and what are worthy for shame. I don't need you comparing my latest report card to yours or anyone else to feel good or bad about it. Do my accomplishments mean more because I'm poor? Do they mean more because I've battle my demons for them? Hasn't everyone had to battle to get what the want and need? Haven't the fought just as hard for their successes, had to suffer his or her own adversities?

Why are you telling me that my suffering makes me somehow more worthy than another? Suffering is suffering, and success is success. My business is mine, go mind yours.

Why does our society feel the need to label each and every little thing into an hierarchy of value? It is or it isn't.

If you go to a professor and hand in an assignment that's only half done and tell them “Considering my background, this is a really big accomplishment,” you are still going to be a big fat F, and probably some wired looks next class.

Or if you go to work with a presentation that is only half complete, but tell your boss that it doesn't matter that it's only half complete because the sources you drew from were really accomplished and popular personalities, so they are twice as effective as a complete presentation ever could be, you are probably going to end the day cleaning out your desk or at least taking some time off to go talk to a nice doctor who specializes in mid-life crises.

Quantification has no practical value, and really is usually a feeble and ham-handed attempt at interpersonal communication at best or a thinly veiled bullying tactic to make someone feel better than someone else.

The in-betweens do nothing, they just allow fat-headed douchebags to feel better about their own mediocrity so that they can have happy little dreams when they go to sleep at night. Assigning merit or superiority to another doesn't matter at all in the real world. Your quantification of me and my quantification of you only really matter to the person doing the quantifying and that is really kinda sad.

So yeah.

This rant is over I think. Sorry about how little sense this probably makes.

The Tragedy of the Soup: Part II

Recap: I hate vegetables and mushrooms.

The smell, the taste, the texture, the sound they make against my teeth when I accidentally bite into one... There is nothing about mushrooms that I don't despise with every fiber of my mediocre English major being. If there was a food product that embodied all the vagaries of despair, it would be the mushroom.

But that is only the origin story to our the tale. The climactic plot point in the Tragedy of the Soup was a moment when I realized the lack of fulfillment and ambition in my life. When I realized that there was no possible way $3.80 was going to feed me for six days.

So, taking into consideration my hatred for vegetables, my exceptional hatred of mushrooms, and my status as an extremely poor college student facing the end of a term and a dwindling meal plan, I got my hands on some strategically placed pity and gained possession of some canned soup.

Now, for me I have been spoiled for any soup that is not made by my mother, or other members of my family that I trust in the kitchen (which is almost all of them, as cooking is kinda of a huge deal in my family—all except my sister, she of the thrice-burnt rice). We make soup like champs, with none of this canned nonsense. But when one gets down to the state of near-starvation that awaits any student foolish enough not to budget his or her meal plan, canned soup is just dandy. Delicious, even.

Wandering back into my room after an evening of studying and friends, feeling the hungry again, I perused my food shelf and lighted upon the cans of soup. The cans looked good, or at least the labels appealed to my sense of aesthetic if not to my taste buds. One of them looked especially enticing, called “Steak & Potato.” Seriously, what is more delicious to finely chopped, beef and potatoes, smothered in a gravy-like broth? I like steak. I like potatoes. I like gravy. I had high hopes for it. But I suppose a loss of hope and the destruction of dreams is what growing up is all about.

So, after a long and arduous journey to the dining hall, I acquired a spoon and dumped my soup into a leftovers contained to eat. For those of you are of a literary inclination, this is what might be referred to as the exposition and rising action. For after I acquired my spoon and opened the can, I noticed that the soup was.... not the color I expected it to be. And it didn't smell right either.

But I was foolish, and let my stomach dictate my choices. I began to eat. It didn't taste great. In fact, it tasted kinda like crap. The potatoes were rubbery and the steak felt grainy. I thought to myself, This is disappointing, but I am hungry, and I won't let the goodwill and hard work of getting this can of soup be in vain. I took a few more bites and soon wished I hadn't.

On my fifth bite, I bit into the potato I had scooped up in my spoon and swallowed down the odd-tasting gravy-broth, when something unexpected appeared amidst the bite of soup. After a shocked pause, I delicately probed at the mysterious object in my mouth with my tongue, thinking that it was perhaps a congealed chunk of grease or something. It felt slick, slimy, with a vaguely familiar unpleasant something about it that tickled at my memory. The object slipped over the side of my tongue and the moment it settled in the bottom of my mouth against my teeth, I recognized the texture of the unexpected object.

There was a mushroom in my mouth.

I won't lie. I do this thing when I accidentally eat things I don't like. I sort of screw my face up and.... Well, no. I don't suppose it really could be qualified as a “thing.” It can't even be qualified as simply “spitting it out.” I just open my mouth and rely on gravity to remove the offending substance.

This has a rather checkered history of success for me. For example, when I was small and some cruel relation of mine would trick me into drinking coffee, I ended up walking around with a large brown splotch on my shirt and in bad need of a face wash. When I forget that there are pickles or onions or tomato on a burger, I end up getting yelled at or laughed at (depending on the depth of our personal bond) by whoever I am eating with. However, what this practice lacks in grace it makes up for in speed. It is the fastest way to get rid of something—one doesn't need to waste time performing a spitting motion.

When I discovered the espionage mushroom that had tricked it's way into my mouth, this is the technique I resorted to to get rid of it.

I ended up with reddish-brown soup broth dripping down my chin like some maddened, blood-drinking, axe-murdering psychopath as I gazed down, aghast, at the spit-bathed mushroom floating sloppily in the bowl of soup.

All the suspicious elements I had previously noted were explained—the color, the smell, the not-delicious taste.

It was no longer a bowl of soup.

It was a bowl of despair.