gay

This blog post was going to be about summer updates but you know what I feel like writing about? EFFING DYKES

Can somebody please explain to me why I love this website so much? Why do I have such a blast reading about this promiscuous lesbian?

I was thinking it had something to do with that weird study they did a while ago where scientists (probably gay, btw) found out homophobes were secretly turned on by man on man action.

But I'm not a homophobe.

I root for gay people in the way that I root for any minority group struggling for human rights.
I mean...

I don't LOVE THE GAYS because I'm SOOOOO OPEN MINDED AND OMG I HAVE A BEST GAY FRIEND WHO DOES MY HAIR AND GIVES ME SHOPPING TIPS AND IS SASSY AND AMAZING AND HE'S MINE AND I OWN HIM OH AND LESBIANS ARE COOL TOO EVEN THE ONES I DRUNKENLY KISS AT PARTIES BECAUSE GUYS FIND IT HOT.

where was I...

Oh yeah. Anyways this isn't about her being gay...actually it is. Mostly, she's hilarious and a great writer and is a pro at finding cool pictures on the internet to enhance posts. But I know a secret part of me is fascinated by this lifestyle that I will never be a part of. She loves women so much...it's flattering! Krista talks about fucking and fantasizing about women. But she's a girl, so it's not disgusting or piglike. This is not a double standard because effing dykes talks about women in a way that straight girls WISH straight men would talk about women. Is that confusing?



What I'm saying is...it's nice to be worshiped and awe-inspiring and desired and loved. So... much love to those who love.

sticks in the throat

Me: I had this really great gelato at WholeFoods the other day, it was AWESOME.

Bear: Wait, what? Like, the women's shoe?

Me:....Not stiletto. Gelato.

yuck

I don't know how I feel about this. There is nothing religious or too tree hugging about this aspect of my personality. I just feel really uncomfortable when I think about it.

I'm talking about killing bugs.

Don't get me wrong. I hate bugs. I think they're gross and creepy and if they weren't a significant part of our ecosystem and the earth's biodiversity I would be fine if they didn't exist. However, there is something unsettling about squishing a bug. I'm KILLING IT! I am ENDING IT'S LIFE. And sometimes I can't seem to shake that.

I mean, we can't be THAT arrogant to possibly think that it's okay to end a life just because they're gross. Right?

I don't know.
They are gross

in due time

Everyone is saying how boring summer is, but I feel like there's not enough time at all. I'm going to the motherland (GUATE) for a month, and that only leaves me with, well, a month more of "real" at-home summer. And this is a summer of stressful tense macroeconomic classes, so it feels like even less time. It's not like I'm entertained every second, but every time I have the opportunity to be bored, it feels kind of nice. I wonder if this is what all the rest of the summers of my life will be. I'm not complaining (ok maybe just a little bit) but it seems strange to think about. Basically, no longer will I be lounging around all summer, looking ahead into three months of complete nothingness. This is both good and bad. Mostly good, I guess.

To drive home this point, "There Is Never Enough Time," by The Postal Service:

In due time/We'll finally see/There's barely time/For us to breathe

leather-bound books and rich mahogany!

This makes me so sad.
For real, my bookcase (besides my clothes, of course) is the only thing in my bedroom that I even really consider mine, or representative of me. I don't think of my room as my room, really, it's just a place I stay in for now until I go back to school. Not that my dorm room is any homier...I just feel like it's too much effort (and too small a space) to try and make my room my own. Sure, I have posters on my walls, but I put them up knowing I'm going to take them down in a few months when I have to move again. But my bookcase is the one thing that has stayed constant ever since I moved to my current house nine years ago, and its my bookcase that I add to and rearrange with some weird sense of contentment and pride every break and whenever I'm bored. It's nothing impressive, but it's mine.
 Dreaming about my future house/apartment (I only do this SOMETIMES) I always include a small library. 
The pipe and scotch are optional. 
MAD BOOKS are not. 
Cell phones do not figure into this room one bit.

Next stop...TWITTER! JK

COMO ESTAN, BITCHES.
So I made a tumblr. Don't cry or anything. I'm still a loyal Mighty Beluga-er. It's just that my attention span is limited these days. It's the heat. I'm going to still write here. Blogger will always be in my heart to rant or talk about my day. I'm an internet woman! So don't you forget it.

Kay peas

post script: yes, I still live in this delusional world where I think people give a fuck.
GO HERE EVERYDAY:
http://junk-drawers.tumblr.com/

this coffee gives me two marginal utilities

What I've learned in my microeconomics class, and am in the process of relearning in my macroeconomics summer class:
Happiness can be measured. It's called utility. Or marginal utility? Something like that.
This is why I don't like economics. I'm also probably way off in my definition of utility but either way it sounds weird.