Monthly Archives: May 2012

Happy Hump Day

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There is such a thing as a Chisel Toothed Kangaroo Rat and this is what it looks like. You may recognize it as the mouse that Scar almost eats in the Lion King.

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I haven’t posted in a week because I am lame. But you can look forward to two new posts coming soon:

An Ode To French Men- my final post about Paris

14. Off The Shoulder Bra Strap- the latest addition to CoughSlutCough

Happy Hump Day

It’s Hump Day. Whatever.

The Growing Up Effect

The problem with growing up is that there is always someone telling us we are not old enough. And yet, you would think that as young adults, we would finally be over it.

But even as college students, there is still one hurdle we cannot quite clear, one word that brings our youth crashing back down upon us every time – being called an undergraduate. It is the last stage of growing up that we can cling to, and the only name someone can call us to make us feel insignificant and young all over again.

As a rising senior, I have finally started to feel a little old and nostalgic while trying to figure out where exactly the last three years have gone. I suppose they are scattered about Foggy Bottom, running by the White House, stuck to the floor at The Guards, fried in the tater tots at Tonic or desperately carved into a desk at Gelman Library. But all it took was the instant feeling that I am unbearably young to make me want to rush through the next year.

The sensation hit me upon reading a post on the #whenindc Tumblr. “When I go out in Foggy Bottom and find myself surrounded by undergrads,” it read, above a photo of a man in a hospital gown saying, “I have made a huge mistake.”

Just like that, I was ready to grow up and no longer be one of those juvenile, annoying undergraduates.

Whether it be the nasty but incredibly cool eighth grader on the back of the bus, or that government official who says we cannot yet legally drink, we are always being told we’re too young.

More often than not, we find ourselves racing toward the next age deadline – until we run out of them. That Tumblr post made me realize that being an undergraduate is, in fact, the last of these deadlines. It is the last time foolishness will ever be expected of us.

The idea of taking advantage of our youth and appreciating our time in college is not a new one. But as undergraduates, we find ourselves in a rather contradictory state. We are not quite old enough to be taken seriously, but we are told we should still be pleased with our youth.

With another year of college coming to an end, freshmen, sophomores, juniors and seniors are ecstatic and distraught at the same time. Underclassmen await the day they can finally live in Ivory Tower or drink at McFadden’s, nervously realizing they will soon have to start taking college seriously. Upperclassmen are counting the days until they never have to fill out another one of GW’s bureaucratic forms, but are still in denial that graduation is quickly approaching.

When coming to college, we expect time to slow down, but instead it races by. Whether we spend four years sprinting toward the next deadline or scrapbooking every moment, our experiences as undergraduates are entirely what we make them. No one else can make our decisions – or our mistakes – for us.

We are always in a rush to grow up, but shouldn’t be. College is one of the last times we get to explore our passions and interests. It is a cluster of years during which foolishness and mistakes are actually expected, and even encouraged.

So while I expect adulthood has its perks, for now I am content with being an undergraduate. And more importantly, I suspect the person who created that Tumblr post wishes they still were one, because well, who wouldn’t?

Read this post on the GW Hatchet

Happy Hump Day

- Otters hold hands while they sleep, but not baby otters because they don’t know that yet.

- Male otters are called meowters.

- and otters are the only species that doesn’t have a muscle in the tail- it’s just for fun and decoration purposes.

Normandy: A Cold Hearted Bitch

I ventured to Normandy over a week ago, and only now have recovered enough to write about it. No, I’m not talking emotionally; I’m speaking more physically. Never did I think someone could die from wind, and then I went to Normandy.

People of the world typically travel to Normandy for the history as Omaha beach hosted the famous battle scene from World War II. My first exposure to said beach was during a viewing of Stand By Me, in which Corey Feldman’s character screams, “My father stormed the beaches at Normandy!” at the crude junk yard owner. Indeed, this beach is also featured in the opening sequence of Saving Private Ryan- so, if you weren’t convinced before this beach is a huge deal in American/French History.

However, grasping the history during my trip was difficult. Firstly because it was a weekend school trip, so I was with friends. Typically in such a situation one would try to have fun, but Normandy isn’t exactly the most appropriate setting for fun. Secondly, I exerted all possible effort possible into remaining standing. I do not kid, those winds made me stumble. Thirdly, I was furthermore distracted by our tour guide who looked and sounded strikingly similar to the witch from Sword in the Stone. (see the resemblance?)


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The first day was spent touring the various beaches and cliffs in 70 mph winds and other such life-threatening environments. But we also visited the American Cemetery which was absolutely remarkable, eerie with the thousands of perfect white marble tomb stones standing in immaculate green grass just off the ocean shore, but still remarkable. You couldn’t tell if it was raining, or if the winds were picking up water from the sea.

The food near the beaches, however, was awful- so I would suggest that you just don’t eat there. Wait until you get to Mont Saint Michel like we did. I’ve never seen a hamburger that looks so little like an actual hamburger.

At this point I realize that I am sick. I have a particularly weak immune system, but had managed to fair pretty well in Paris so far- but a little wind, a little cold, and a trench coat with a prematurely removed wool lining was a recipe for disaster. I most like would have been fine, had we not spent the entirety of the next day touring an old, drafty castle on Mont Saint Michel, in the rain. Despite my condition I was still floored by the island that’s only an island twice a day, two days a year. If ever I were an corrupt princess during the medieval ages, let me tell you, this would totally be my hangout.

That night at dinner, paid for by the oh-so-generous GW, we made fast friends with the waiter Charles in an effort to discover the island’s night life. We drank/stole too much wine only to discover that everything on the island shuts down at 10. Rather unacceptable. We were told that we had to go off the island to go out. Well, I’d seen “off the island” on our way there and was not terribly impressed, so instead we opted for buying/stealing more wine from the restaurant and bringing the bottles upstairs. Those were the world’s most comfortable beds, or so they seemed after months of sleeping on the cot-like mattress that my home stay parents provided.

We left the next morning, and drove three hours out of the way to stop for lunch in Honfleur, an adorable marine town. I can’t quite say that it was worth another three hours on a bus, but it came pretty close. Plus, after days rain and tornado-like winds, we finally got some sunshine.

 

 

Happy Hump Day

Happy Hump Day to the frustratingly single- may the weekend bring you luck!

The Ex Effect

fuckin’ drama queen

In any relationship there is a certain amount of crap we all have to deal with. Like agreeing to celebrate the two month anniversary of the first time you guys said “Hi” to each other or only doing it with the lights on. Everyone has their own set of adorable quirks, like my friend’s (my) slightly bizarre obsession with squirrels. We can all totally appreciate that, and most of the time putting up with these oddities is absolutely worth it. And yet throughout my many years of dating, there is one thing that I will simply not put up with; when people blame all their current relationship issues on their ex.

Enter: The Ex Effect.

The Ex is the person we want to know everything and nothing about. And yet, we have a relationship with them- and at times it’s a more complicated relationship than the one we are currently in. Fundamentally we hate them. This of course is not only made possible, but also fueled by Facebook and other such technologies that allow us to stalk our way through our boyfriend’s/girlfriends relationships past. Even if they are not present or even discussed, an ex always weasels their way into the present relationship- they have a sort of omni-presence. Granted, this is typical of any relationship; our boyfriends/girlfriend’s exes will always have some sort of place in their life; it’s not particularly up to us.

However, I feel distinctly comfortable at drawing the line when the ex starts to indirectly implicate the present relationship.  When problems arise, I’ve noticed that the modern day couple has a tendency to blame an ex. Allow to me to demonstrate with examples:

The most common, and widely used version of the Ex Effect has to do with commitment issues. Surprisingly, I have only encountered this once myself (probably because I have my own issues with commitment). Regardless, I’d been seeing this guy for almost an entire semester, and things finally seemed to be teetering around the exclusivity stage- I mean we’d gone out to brunch together AFTER a formal event, shit was clearly getting serious. After a couple more weeks of him chickening out, I finally gathered the balls to confront him about it. That’s when he gave me this absolute gem of a line (despite the quotation marks, this is not a direct quote), “My ex really messed me up and I’m afraid to be in a committed relationship because of her.” Well, thanks random bitch that I don’t even know for screwing up my relationship.

And another…

By far, my saddest experience with the Ex Effect was when a guy I had been dating for six months told me that he couldn’t say “I love you” because he had said it to a previous girlfriend when he was 15. Later he realized that he actually didn’t and it ruined their relationship as well as his ability to say it again to anyone else. According to him the next time he said it, it would be to the person he would spend the rest of his life with (que vomit). But oh my god, you were 15- if I had taken the things I had done at 15 that seriously I’d probably be on my way to morning prayer with Sister Maria at my convent in Mongolia.

( I realize my examples make it seem like only guys do this, but girls do it too- and honestly, we probably do it worse. I just don’t have any personal experience administering the ex effect, primarily because the only effect my exes have on me is making me want to stop dating all together.)

It’s easy to blame exes, mostly because they’re not there so they make an easy scape goat, but also who actually wants to own up to their own issues?

However, speaking as a victim of the Ex Effect, I would rather hear the truth. You’re scared to be in a committed relationship because you have a functioning penis. I totally get that. You can’t say I love you, because you don’t love me/are incapable of human emotion. It may be hard to say and it can be even harder to hear, but it’s better than being a 21-year-old scaredy cat and blaming it on your ex.

Our exes are our exes for a reason- things didn’t work out. They already ruined one relationship, so why are we letting them ruin another? There is a lot to be learned from exes, and yes, we are supposed to grow and learn from every relationship, but that’s doesn’t mean we carry all our issues from past relationships into the next one.

So suck it up, stop blaming your ex, and maybe consider getting a therapist instead.

When I See a couple all over each other in public

I just want to sing

poor unfortunate souls

Happy Hump Day

Finals are coming. Run away, run away and enjoy your hump day.

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