Friday, March 02, 2007
I just got told by an article that my generation, otherwise known as the kids old enough to go to college, is the most self-centered generation since they began the study in 1982. They're calling us the 'ME' generation.
Who else is insulted and slighty inclined towards hate mail?
It's one thing to look at people in the face and tell them they're self-centered and not have any healthy relationships as a result of being built up "self-esteem"-wize by society, but it's a completely different thing to continue by saying there's no hope to "save" the Me-generation from themselves. Oh yippie! Me and all my friends are lost causes!
I'm serious, the only 'remedy' the article discusses is to avoid future 'me' generations by not telling children that they're special... WHAT??? I'm not going to sit here and say that there's nothing wrong with the world, but I will say that every generation has it's problems. Wanna know what I think about the generation that's currently judging us? They took a look at the world and said "I think I'll try to play God and figure out whats wrong with everyone else"
Atleast MY generation is too concerned with themselves to bother figuring out other people's problems.
:) I dont feel so insulted anymore
Monday, February 26, 2007
It's a great day of discovery for me: I've finally figured out what it is about the Revenge of the Dixie Chicks offends me. (that should be a horror movie. It would scare me.) That's right, everyone had their shot at Dixie Chicks, and now it's my turn, but it's not for the reasons you might think. Here goes:
I never liked the Dixie Chicks. Not ever. It wasn't only that I am and was anti-country, it's also that they allways seemed kinda uppity to me, a little too girlie, you know? So, I discounted them from the beginning. Then the whole thing about their anti-Bush speech to France came about. In response, I chuckled a bit, and never spoke nor thought of it again. Why should I care what some trio of biatches think, especially when I don't even care about the trio in the first place? In fact, I dont remember anyone around me caring much. They didn't much like country either.
Then the girls come back, with a vengence. (seriously, I didn't even realize they'd been gone) Here's where I get offended. They write a song about how they've been persecuted, and hated on, and attacked for speaking their beliefs. Wait a minute, Dixie Chicks, you're singing like I care. I'm offended that such a thing could be assumed. Particularly when I never cared. I think i'm so offended that I'm going to boycott the Dixie Chicks. :):):)
Sunday, February 25, 2007
This dream website tells me that my dreams about various celebrities means that I'm:
a) sexually repressed (try to figure that one out. Do all dreams mean sex? I'm not consulting Dr. Frued)
b) I should incorporate into myself the characteristics of that celebrity that I admire
Go figure, its crap in my puzzler. I say I just watch House, Scrubs, and Crossing Jordan too much. And, it's a hell of a lot better than dreaming about school or aliens. If I happen to meet my chinese teacher in my dreams one of these days, it'll be a nightmare.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
6 weirdos walk into a bar...
Weird tag! Here we go! (now commencing to think up only 6 weird things to put here)
1. Listening to TOTO makes me feel nostalgic for highschool. Which was two years ago. I wasn't even alive for 'Africa' and it was my theme song for like 3 years.
2. Sometimes I get my dreams and my real life mixed up. Example: Say I have a dream that my friend orders a hot dog, when I know she hates hot dogs. It would probably subconsciously bug me till I confronted her about it, whereupon I would only remember it was a dream After I get the weird 'what are you talking about' look. You know the one.
3. I've picked up this new thing where I have to wave at strangers in my neighborhood, which is everyone because I live in a community of uppity old people that look down on me. But they smile back and talk to me. I think it's because of Ernie, he wins them over.
4. The reason the uppity bitches of the neighborhood look down on me? I wear slippers, pajamas, a monstrous sweater and my iPod 8 out of 10 times when walking my dog. They think I'm ignoring them and being a crazy teen with my slippers, which is only half true. I really can't hear them if they aren't in my face making it obvious that they're talking. Is it my fault the can't see the iPod?
5. When I first heard that Chaucer is my great uncle, my first reaction was 'awesome!' Until I read Cantebury Tales. My GOD those are some dull tales. I'd rather go back to analyzing Beowulf. (this coming from an english major. I blame it on the Wife of Bath's bitch fest. I just don't see the point of her repeating the same stupid point Over and Over and Over... ugh) Point is, I got all uppity without knowing who I was linking myself to. Weird.
6. And weirdest thing about me? I still have backstreet boys and Nsync on my playlist. Oh yeah. ;)
Hope you enjoyed delving deeper into the world I like to call 'weirdo land'. Come back soon!
Labels: weirdo land
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Hey... I just saw the chinese character for 'woman' scribed in cheese onto the bottom of my mac and cheese bowl. Wow. That's like Cheerios telling peter "oooo" but more nerdy. I wonder what it means when cheese tells you 'woman'? And to think I would have never got the message if I wasn't taking chinese. How many cheese messages do we miss in our mac bowls, just because we can't decipher them?? Its mind blowing...
Anyway, i have a funny story about a target trip I took yesterday:
I was at the checkout buying my altoids and slipper-socks when suddenly the girl at the counter over started SCREAMING her head off. Everyone jumped, I think one guy fell over, and the security ran over to see what was going on. Apparently, the cashier lady had hiccups, and her customer lulled her in close and then screamed into her face to cure them. It worked. Next time I find someone who has hiccups, I think I'll try that. And grab them, he grabbed her. Everyone had a good laugh afterwards, but I seriously thought there was some robbery going on.
'Woman' is freaking me out. Here's the character I'm talking about:
Why did it come to me? lol
Thursday, February 15, 2007
days of our lives?
When I learned that Dr. Cox's sister (on Scrubs with Zach Braff and friends) was named Paige, first I was dumbstuck, then I got a little giggly. Afterall, Dr. Cox is awesome. But then I realized something bizarre: Scrubs is my new soap opera. Or my first soap opera depending on which story you believe.
As silly as it might be to be obsessed (obsessed is such a strong word) with a sitcom, I find more healthy than to be obsessed with an actual soap opera. I've heard that people who watch Days of our Lives or The Bold and the Beautiful can get depressed just from watching a particularly unnerving episode. Scrubs wont do that to you. So therefore, I stick to it.
Dentist appt today.... blech...
Technorati Tags: scrubs, dr. cox, days of our lives, soap opera, zach braff, sitcoms
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Schooled in Life
I believe that there are lessons to be learned in life, and I also believe that I just got schooled in one of them: appreciation.
Not two minutes ago I got a big whap in the face telling me that I don't appreciate my step dad enough. There's a few factors mixed in there, I think I used to blame it on the fact that he wedged his way into my mom and I's life. For a few years, that may have been the case, maybe it still is, but there's more to the story. Not even mentioning my odd discomfort towards the male species in general, there's something about a step father.
When my real father died, I went inward to seek blame. I told myself I never appreciated him, up until the end, and I never gave him the attention and love that he deserved. I think some of that bitterness and blame deflected outward: to perhaps the man who I felt like might have tried to replace my father. Poor Malcolm never saw it coming. Well, I don't treat him any different than I used to, I might treat him better since I've matured, but I have the tendancy to like it when he's out of town. It's not really fair to him. He's never shown me hostility, never treated me like the red headed step child, although I have died my hair red from time to time so he would have certainly had the excuse ;).
I guess what I'm trying to say is that even though he's not my real father, I don't want to be standing at another father-figure funeral wishing that I'd done more to appreciate that man. Thanks, Malcolm.
Labels: lessons, the truth