Shakespeare Doesn’t Suck (I have an English degree so you can trust me)

Around Thanksgiving my friend Erin texted me to tell me that there would be a broadcast of the play Coriolanus (by Shakespeare) in Salt Lake City in late February and obviously we needed tickets so we could go see it (partially because she is a big fan of Tom Hiddleston’s work, and I’ve been coming around to it, but mostly because we both enjoy all that stuff and it will keep us from bricking ourselves into our homes).

I responded with, “I don’t know what that is.”I actually did know what it was. I had read the play in college but in the context of our text message conversations I had zero understanding of what was going on.  So, after figuring everything out, I insisted that I would have to read the play before we went to see the broadcast.

Erin and I went to the bookstore and unfortunately Coriolanus is not one of the six Shakespeare plays that Barnes and Noble actually carries. I bought the big super fancy copy of all of Shakespeare’s works (I wanted the annotated version with the big margins but that one cost a lot of money) so that I could read the play before we went to see it.

(I promise this story is relevant to the actual topic of this blog)

You see, when I was in high school and college I was kind of a nerd. I’m still kind of a nerd but back then it still had a social stigma attached to it. I was one of those annoying smart kids who was always working on things during class (generally writing stories and not paying attention to what was going on in class) and the “cool kids” made fun of me. But… you know, in a good way.

Because I was kind of a nerd I was very oppositional toward those other kids who thought they were so much cooler than I was. For example, I really enjoyed the Shakespeare classes we had to take and got really annoyed when they would complain about the plays and movies or would make fun of them. I didn’t actually like Shakespeare all that much back then. Mostly (and this is hard to admit) I did not really get Shakespeare when I was a teenager (that is hard to admit because I don’t like admitting that I’m not as smart as I’ve always thought I am). That is the truth though. I pretended to like it and probably did like it more than a lot of the other people in my class but at the same time I still kind of thought it sucked.

It was always the same three plays over and over again in every English class. Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, and Julius Ceaser. JEEZ! No wonder everyone hated it. I’m surprised my English teachers could stomach those plays after years and ears of teaching them, I couldn’t stomach them after two years of that nonsense.

However, Shakespeare doesn’t suck. I came to that conclusion in college and have grown more into as the years have gone by. There are some fantastic things in Shakespeare that I didn’t catch when I was reading it just to write a paper. Things like the best way to say good luck to anyone ever (Now the fair goddess, Fortune, fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms misguide thy opposers’ swords!).

I’ve been being super pretentious this year and reading all of Shakespeare’s works (seeing as I have the book now) and the ones that are not the six that we read in college and the three that we read in high school are really great and those other ones don’t suck that much either.

Trust me I have a degree in this stuff.

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Is it Ridiculous if its Fun?

I am going to be honest with you guys I am ridiculous 98.5% of the time, its part of my charm. I make life altering decisions based on the part of my brain that is still a twelve year old. I wear pretty much whatever I want because I believe that if you like something and it fits you then you should wear it.All that is to say that I tend to be ridiculous and very rightly worthy of ridicule. Yesterday I was dancing around my friend Erin’s kitchen while she filled water glasses (or something like that, I wasn’t paying much attention because I was dancing) and she said to me “you’re being weird again aren’t you? I’m not even looking at you and I can tell you’re being weird.” Well it was true because I don’t dance so much as Balter (to dance without grace or style but some enjoyment) and I am just ridiculous. But is it really ridiculous if you are having fun?

I say it is not. I was in theater in high school and college so I think I have some authority on this matter (more on that in a moment).The fact is that fun cannot truly be ridiculed because even the cool kids want to be ther person who is having fun. 

So this weekend my friend Jen threw a Great Gatsby viewing party. She reserved the theater room in her apartment, made popcorn, was sure to have the movie this time (we’ve tried to do this before) and it was awesome. Now I knew that most everyone there would be wearing sweatpants because it is January and it was a Friday night and that is the my friends roll. That did not stop me from deciding to wear a flapper dress with a long string of pearls and pretending to be Daisy. 

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(here’s a terrible picture to prove that I’m not making this up)

Why? Well, mostly because in college I was in theater and my friends and I would always dress to theme for parties. So I looked absurd and was cold on the drive out to Jen’s apartment but it was so fun which in my book means it was not ridiculous.

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My Mom is Concerned About Me

My mom is concerned about me and rightly so, I can be an idiot sometimes. I can also be judgmental, bitter, and irresponsible. Especially irresponsible. I’m 24 and my greatest talent is snark so I don’t know what I’m supposed to add to society without those things.  I really don’t.

However, that is not why my mom is concerned about me (not this time). My mom is concerned because I have been applying to grad schools and 2 of them are in England and my family is in America (I like a good adventure). This morning we were discussing a business venture that I should try to be a part of in Washington state and I told her that I couldn’t own a business in Washington because I was going to be busy getting my PhD in London.

“I get the impression that you are not as excited about this idea as Dad is,” I said to her.

“It isn’t that I’m not excited or that I am concerned it is just that I don’t think you’ll ever come back.”

I looked at her for a second wondering how that was supposed to come across as being excited about it.

My mom is concerned about me and her reasons are probably justifiable. If I go to England I might not come back.

This is the winter of my discontent

Some of you may recall that I was planning on being 15% less hostile in 2014. Others of you may recall that I always liked even years better and therefore 2014 was going to be MY year. There might even be a few of you who remember both of those things. Well all of those ideas were total crap and can suck it! THIS is the winter of my discontent and my feelings toward the snow are no longer just “generally” negative. To be honest, right now I wish that Loki had been allowed to commit genocide and destroy all of the Jotunheim because maybe then snow would not exist anymore.

I should preface what I’m about to tell you by saying that I am okay. That is, other than feeling; humiliated, like an idiot, ANGRY, totally discouraged, and like I have said “fuck” more times today than I have in my life leading up to today (like if you add up every single time I have said it that was not today and compared that number to the number of times I have said it just today). Other than those feelings, which make me feel not okay, I am okay. I am the picture of health (just not mental health).

I would also like to preface this by saying that I am a fairly good driver. I don’t really speed, I use my signals, I plan ahead, I check my mirrors, I have never hit another vehicle or run a red light, I know what I am doing when I am behind the wheel and I am pretty safe.

I rolled my Jeep over today. Yeah, I drove a blue Jeep named The Migrator, until today. I was at the time pretty sure what had happened but it seems so unbelievable that I am not 100% convinced that it actually happened. It’s like those moments when you feel like you are watching your life. “That couldn’t happen to me, that had to happen to someone else,” you might say but when you get up in the morning your car isn’t in the driveway. I often say that this is not my real life and that I am living someone else’s life. Well… when I find whoever’s life I have been living I am going to kick there ass.

I’d like to reiterate that I’m fine (not a scratch on me) I know that most people do not walk away from rolling a vehicle at any speed but Jeeps are pretty awesome, Jeeps get the job done… I will always drive a Jeep over any other SUV.

So you’re probably wondering how I managed to roll my car. Or you don’t care but I’m going to tell you any way because I once had a professor tell me that whenever something bad happens to turn it into art, maybe not the same day because you haven’t had time to reflect but always turn it into art. My blog may not be “fine art” but I like to consider it art. Seeing as you are wondering and I did promise to tell you this is what happened.

I was on my way to work this morning. I was not speeding but it isn’t like I was going 2 miles an hour either but I was not speeding I was under the speed limit. I went around a curve in the road and hit a patch of slick snow.  I did everything right. I know how to recover from a slide and I was quite calmly turning so that I could recover. I did not swear. Not at all. I was perfectly calm right up until my tire hit a pile of snow/ice that a plow had left just off to the side of the road. My front tire hit it side ways and it was just like tripping.

I did not swear then either. I let go off the steering wheel, my feet had already been off the gas because that’s what you do when you slide on the ice. And the first thought that went through my mind was “my dad is going to be so mad at me.” The next thought that went through my mind was, “I’m glad there aren’t any other cars or people around.”

Then I got out of my car, called 911, and some people made sure I was all right. They were all SHOCKED to discover that I was. Then I started swearing and did not really stop for about an hour.

I am still so embarrassed, shocked, and not entirely convinced that it actually happened. However, I’m okay and God is good because seriously I am okay and I know that people die from making mistakes driving in the snow all the time.

Now if you’ll excuse me I’m off to destroy the Jotunheim and end this winter from hell.

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Given my life long search for irony, the fact that the song “it gets better” by Fun was playing on my radio at the time of the roll has not escaped me.

I am a total dead loss as a woman

I have noticed recently that my lip gloss does not have an expiration date. However I have also noticed that my tube of lip gloss does not work, taste, shine the same way it did when I first bought it 4 years ago. That is why I started checking for the expiration date to begin with (I am wary of putting things in/on my mouth that have gone bad). This experience has made me aware of 2 things. 1) Most lip glosses do not have an expiration date. 2) They don’t have an expiration date because no one expects you to keep track of, let alone use, the same tube of lip gloss, or chap stick, for nearly 5 years. I’m probably right about both of those.

Obviously the people who came to these conclusions have never met me. I put on lip gloss or chapstick once every 8 days or so and then immediately put it back in the same pocket of my purse. I don’t wear a lot of make up. I like to rub my eyes, sometimes they get itchy. When I wear lip gloss my hair get stuck in it. It is so NOT super hero (which is my goal in life, I just don’t know where to find a vat of toxic waste). So I just never really wear make up and that is why my lip gloss is somewhere between 4 and 5 years old and probably expired. 

I am 24, nearly 25 and I have no idea how to do my own make-up. For years it was okay that I had no idea how to do my own make-up because most of my friends were theater majors and if I went to a party and needed some make up for my look either Isabel or Alyssa would usually do it for me.

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For example. This entire outfit, hair, make-up, etc was the product of everyone who went to the Rocky Horror Picture Show but me. I simply stood there and let my friends dress me up (one of the benefits of being the size of a doll).

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All the people in the above picture are great and exactly the reason that in college I never needed to have any particular skill or sense when it came to fashion and make-up.

Unfortunately I am no longer in college (and haven’t been for a while) and all those awesome people live quite far away from me. I can’t just text someone a picture of my outfit in the morning and ask if I look like a functioning adult. I might have to leave for work before they respond. And I certainly don’t know how to get them to do my make-up for a party over Skype, someday technology might advance that far but not today. So yesterday my friend Erin, who is also incredible and a hairstylist, sat me down and taught me how to do my make-up (now when I go to the theater and comic-con I can at least pretend to be able to function).

Turns out, I am a total dead loss as a  woman. By the end of the evening I had eye liner smeared all over my eye and hands and none of it was ending up where it was supposed to. When I’m not naturally good at something 1 of 2 things happens. I either get extremely hostile (something I’m trying not to be 15% less in 2014) or I turn it into a big joke and don’t take it seriously.

It is okay though, I don’t wear make-up very often anyway and I already sort of was a dead loss as a woman, I’m a terrible cook, I’m always armed, and dresses don’t have pockets so I don’t wear them… ever. Instead I’ll just go ahead and watch Gladiator again and beat people up. That’s more fun anyway.