estrogen & epithets

Friday 29 January 2010

1) Have you ever been interrogated by frenzied lunch ladies? Not fun.
2) David ate twice his weight in pizza. He did not spew in the car.
3) Pregnant women in college are distracting...

The Top Highlights of the past couple days...

Thursday 28 January 2010

1) Kylie's hat looks like a cow bra. Really.
2) And then a pill packet descended from the heavens, delivered unto us by a orange school folder.
3) Women sparked the "let's-hunt-an-elephant-to-prove-our-manhood" movement of the late 1800s.


Tuesday 26 January 2010

1) He drives a rapist van!
2) "American girl" really is synonymous with "prostitute." Thanks, you pre-med pig.
3) Shakespearean nudity is just another type of mask....right?

I'm in a Creative Nonfiction class. I know, it sounds like a bore, right? That would be incorrect. It's great fun. Where else can you air real life issues and be accepted?

Our homework for this week? Take this clothespin everywhere you go for the next week.

Obviously, there was some confusion in the class. It wouldn't be community college if someone didn't ask, "Do we have to shower with it?!" (At this point I went out into the hall and blew my brains out.) Mr. M offered no further explanation: Just take it with you.

I clipped my clothespin onto the lapel of my jacket, a rather lofty position for a clothespin, and smiled at the clothespin. I wasn't going to over think this. Just take it with me. Everywhere.

Yesterday, 13 January 2010, I took my clothespin:

• To the Bistro, to get a hot tea. The clothespin and I are watching our health.
• Through the freezing rain, to sociology, where the clothespin learned about social deviance.
• Back through the slightly less freezing rain, to where the wild things are, or rather, to the Weese building where Maegan and David were supposed to be waiting. We instead waited for them.
• To the cafeteria with Maegan. Kylie brought me lunch from home--I neglected to share with the clothespin. Maegan and I discussed flea markets. I wondered how much I could sell my clothespin for.
• To the ceramics building. We cut through the industrial buildings, and consequently, had to avoid a lake. The clothespin reminded me not to take the shortcut after it had been raining. We sat down to throw, and I couldn't find my groove. I made a wonky-vase. Inspired if I say so myself. More to come on that later.
• To my first rehearsal for Antigone. We learned about Oedipus/Mommy love, what the word "marshaled" meant, and all about our nauseatingly pretentious co-actors. The clothespin and I agree: We hate them. I have very few lines to memorize. I never want to see the clothespin again.

I took the clothespin off of my lapel, and threw it onto my bed side shelf. I say it this morning when I woke up--I forgot it when it was time to leave for school. Unconsciously removing myself from the horrors of last nights rehearsal? Maybe. Even so, I will collect the clothespin before tonight's reprise.