She Speaks Out.

My sociology prof is a different sort of bird.  She loves to debate and argue but at the end of the day she will shoot you down and make you feel like a fool.  I have somewhat enjoyed the class by keeping my mouth shut.  It's been a very difficult process for an outspoken chick like me, but I was bursting to get my opinion in one of these days.  Well, apparently that day was yesterday.

The topic in class this week is "Deviance".  Oh fun!!  Yesterday we were discussing in particular, whether online porn or sex would be considered deviant.  The term deviant means anything that goes against cultural norms and apparently it doesn't always have a negative connotation (or so I've learned).  It's hard to wrap the brain around that, isn't it?  Here is how the conversation went between my prof and I before, oh, about 100 students or so:

Her:  Is online porn or sex deviant?

(And the regular, front row favoured types respond their typical kiss-ass response.  *Yawn*)

I think about it, formulate a response, and raise my hand at the back of the class.

Me:  Well, considering sex itself is a cultural norm, I'm not sure that online sex or porn could then be considered deviant.

Her:  People cannot have sex by themselves.

Me:  Well sure they can.  People masturbate.  Isn't that sex?

Her:  Individuals masturbate; people have sex. 

Me:  Ok.  The definition of sex is subjective then.  The fact remains that we don't generally discuss such private matters whether it be sex or masturbation, but it's still human nature to do so, therefore it's a cultural norm.  If people use online porn or sex to get off it doesn't matter because it's normal human nature to orgasm for pleasure. How can that possibly be deviant?

(And then I realized there were about 200 eyeballs staring at me.  I wanted to crawl under a rock.  Here I was discussing masturbation in front of strangers.  What's wrong with me?  But I was positive my point was a most excellent one and I wasn't going to back down.)

Her:  But you're looking at the term deviant as something negative.  Sex or masturbation isn't negative.  It's a cultural norm when the behaviour becomes ingrained in our everyday life that we don't bat an eyelash at even the mere mention of it.  Is online sex or porn deviant then?

Damn.  Good point.

Me:  (Silence....followed by a VERY reluctant nod of the head.)  Yeah, I guess it is. 

It just goes to show you that we really don't know what we think we know even when we think we know there's more to it.  You know?

Fascinating.

Bring it.

I'm feeling rather sparky these days which is pretty ironic considering I'm basically living off coffee, adrenaline and ciggs.  Went to see my optometrist last week and the first thing she said is "ooohhh...you're dehydrated.  Less coffee, more sleep."  Sure.  I will get right on that.  Bought me some Refresh Ultra to take care of the eye ball dehydration, and grabbed a Grande Americano with room from Starbucks to keep my brain functioning, and figured that should take care of that.


Seems I have a freckle on my left eye, 3 o'clock.  Nothing to be concerned about says the Dr., but it is interesting to note.  See, it's very common with brown eyes; not so common with blue, she tells me.  Fascinating.  Am I going to live?  Great.  That's all I need to know.


My eye sight has improved so I'm pleased as punch about that.  Still need to wear the suckers but not as often as I used to.  Little does she know that if I remember to even put them on it's a miracle.  But I have me a new prescription and I'm off to the races to find some new glasses.  That's always fun.  Bedazzled red frames, bring it!


*******


Are you wondering about the cigg reference above?  Yeah.  My 18th million attempt at quitting didn't quite cut it this time.  Ah well, there's always next time.  I hear the 19th million attempt is usually the successful one so that's what I'm going with.  Why stress. 


I saw my lit prof smoking outside last week.  Smokers have this funny little way of acknowledging one another, like we're part of this select little group.  It's an understanding of sorts.  Instant acceptance.  How wonderful for me that my lit prof and I share such an understanding.  The world is at my fingertips.  Literally.


*******


The boy had his very first date Saturday night. I don't think I was supposed to know but once he admitted he was going to see the new Twilight movie, the cat was out of the bag.  What 15 and a half yr old boy will admit to going to Twilight if not for a girl?  It was a blind date (well, as far as blind dates go with the likes of facebook and such), and he was being set up by his best friend's girlfriend.   


The girl's name is Brittany. She's 16.  (Oooooh an OLDER woman!!  The plot thickens.) 


Sunday morning I say:  "Sooooo!  How did it go?"


The boy says:  "She's nice." 


Ok.  Nice in what way?  Nice as in she's a nice person?  Nice in that she's pretty?  Nice in that she liked you? Nice in that she has a nice body?  What!  What!!  Oh it drives me crazy that the boy tells me NOTHING.   And I think it amuses the boy knowing that his silence drives me insane, which drives me even more insane. 


But I'm a savvy chick.  I'm a cool cat.  I'm smooooooth.  I figured I would just bide my time and get it out of him in time.


He spent the entire day Sunday applying for part-time jobs and texting on his phone with a big smile on his face.  Nothing further required.  We have success.


How... nice.

*******

Lest we forget.

It was a proud day yesterday and we have much to be grateful for.  I tend to watch the Ottawa service every year - and it's the silver cross mother that gets me every time.  I'm perfectly fine until she lays the wreath...and then the tears start.  Some things just really tug at the heart strings.

******* 

Quite the story out of Penn State this week.  There are two kinds of people that deserve to be fried:  murderers and child rapists.  There are not enough words to express my disgust.  To even say they are the scum of the earth would be giving them too much credit.  It makes me sick to my very core.  Jerry Sandusky?  I say:  die motherfucker, you don't deserve one more second on this planet.

Same to all those who knew what was going on.  Bastards.

I think what gets me even more upset is the media sensationalism.  I sat and watched the news with the boy last week and he turned to me and said "why do they have to be so graphic?  Those poor kids."

Yeah.

Sex sells I guess, even the vilest of sex.  It's a sad world we live in.

*******

The last time I saw writing on the bathroom walls was in high school, and the theme was typically about how Crystal loves Tommy forever and ever.  Or that Brittany was here.  Or that some teacher was a dickhead.

But in University the theme is more inspirational.  "Don't let a man hurt you."  (with the word "man" crossed out and the word "anyone" inserted.)  Or "follow your dreams".  Or "the future depends on what we do in the present". 

The other day I saw one that said:  "Big bitches are the bomb".

Thanks for that.  It totally made my day.  My quest for this week is to find the best inspirational quote in a bathroom stall and take a picture of it.  Stay tuned.  There's some doozies.

*******

Currently reading Boom Bust & Echo for a sociology paper I need to write.  Super interesting book.

Also doing a ton of research on whether or not sex ed in the classroom leads to increased promiscuity in teens for my persuasive writing class.  Just in case you’re wondering if it does, the answer is no.

*******

Song for the week:  No more cloudy days - Eagles.

I'd love to feel the sun on my face again.  I've forgotten what it feels like!

*******

"Mutha (Don't Want to go to School Today)" - Extreme

Ever feel like you're life could become a theme song?

Here's mine:

Sick as a Dog - Aerosmith
So Tired - Ozzy
Comfortably Numb - Floyd
Brain Damage - Eminem
Don't Stand So Close to me - Police
Getting Better - Beatles

******

Kids are rude these days.  They lack any social skills whatsoever.  I ran an unscientific study over the last couple weeks:  For every twelve times I walk through a doorway with students ahead of me, only one will hold the door behind them. Otherwise they open it just enough for them to walk through and let it slam behind them. 

Rude.

And another thing - kids in their 20's don't smile.  Ever.  Especially the girls.  They give you an up-and-down stare and sort of look right through you. And if you smile at them (which I always do because I'm just that kind of friendly, nice sorta girl), they give you a dirty look.  Well fuck you too sweetheart.

Rude.

********

I wrote midterms with a flu last week.  It sucked.

********

I started Champix this week.  It's to assist in my attempt to quit smoking.  I might turn into a paranoid maniac, but at least I won't be smoking.  Quit date is next week sometime.  Everyone say a little prayer for my husband and child.

*******

New Doors Are Opening. Or Are They?

We bought new doors for the front of the house.  Gorgeous things.  The inside door had to be special ordered - this house is so old.  Anyway, the doors are finally in and the man stayed home from work to install them. 

How wonderful.

So I'm sitting in the back room studying:  I have 3 exams, 1 oral presentation and 2 papers due in the next 3 and a half weeks.  I'm working really hard on linking social theories to each theorist, getting in a groove, words are flowing, the light bulb is on and everything is clear and making sense, when I hear the words "fucking HELL" being yelled from the living room.

me:  (yelling) What's wrong?

him:  (yelling) They measured the hinges on the door all wrong.

me:  (getting up)  Are you sure?

him:  Yah.  See?  Look.

me:  You need to shimmy it up on the left.  Here I'll help.

*pause*

Well, wouldn't you know, the door fits!!  Great door.  Been waiting weeks for the thing.  Expensive as hell but SO worth it.  It’s so beautiful!

I go back to work.  It's hazy at first, but the groove starts coming back.  I'm in a zone.  The ideas race through my head and I'm writing like a crazed person.  It's beautiful.  It's art. It's so academically out of this world that the professor will be bowing at my feet and tossing honourary doctorate degrees at me. 

"Fucking SHIT!!"  

me:  What's wrong?

him:  There's no instructions for the new door handle.

me:  You sure?

him:  Yeah.  Fuck!!!

*I go off to look*  Yup.  No instructions.  So he returns to the store and comes back with instructions.  Dandy.

I go back to study.  The ideas have stopped flowing.  I'm fading.  No problem, I will just change topics.  I'm writing an essay on how distance education is a viable option to traditional study methods.  I open up the Word document, read over what I've done and make a few revisions.  It's a strong essay - excellent use of sources - fantastic sentence structure.  I'm quite pleased. 

"FUCK"

me:  What's wrong?

him:  Oh, I just drilled a hole in the door and fucked the whole thing up.

*pause*

me:  What?

him:  Fuck!

*pause*

I get up to look.  Yeah, he drilled a hole through the door, but when I put the handle there, it covered it up.  Confused, I say, "but it's covered up when you put the handle on."

him:  I know but it sticks out.

me:  so?

him:  I'm going to get the (some sort of saw) and see if I can flush it out.

me:  I don't think so!  You'll totally ruin the door then!!

*stomping back to my room*

I go back to my essay and leave it to him to figure out.

Stupid door.

Why didn’t we just PAY someone to do this?

I go back to work.  I change subjects again.  Let's look at the Dimensions of Aging. The oldest members of the baby boomers are starting to retire you know.  Guess what this means?  By 2031 approximately 25% of the Canadian population will be over 65.  I shit you not. And since the national birthrate is down, there are fewer young Canadians to offset the increase in the elderly.  Talk about the kinds of effects this will have on our social and political institutions!  So I turn to that. It's a fascinating topic.

"FUCKING HELL!"

me:  What's wrong?

him:  There's no screws in this box.

me:  Are you sure?

him:  Yah.  Fuck.

me:  Do you have any?

him:  I'm using them but they're the wrong ones.

*pause*

He calls the store.  As long as he has his receipt, not problem, they will give him a new installation kit.  Fantastic.

He grabs his keys.

Where's the receipt?

Well, apparently when he went to the store the first time to get the instructions, he left the receipt at the store.

I told him to channel the "wrath of Michelle" and get it anyway.  He did.  I'm so proud.

He's back at it again.  We're going on the 7th hour of the New Door Installation period.

I'm blogging.  Homework?

Nah, I'm on my second glass of wine now.

*Update with Pictures!!*

See spot run.

The boy started Drivers Ed last week.  I went to a parents meeting that lasted nearly 2 hour long.  It takes 5 years for a new driver to get their licence regardless of their age.  Five years!  When I was a kid they kicked your ass into a car, told you to drive, and gave you a licence if you remembered to use signal lights when changing lanes.  Seriously.  Now though it's a gradual process --  4 hours a week of classroom time for a couple weeks until he gets his learners permit, followed by a further 4 hours a week of classroom time and 2 hours a week of driving time for another 6 weeks.  Talk about a time commitment.  He keeps his learners permit for a minimum of 9 months, followed by the road test ... followed by a year or so with certain limitations, followed by another few years with other limitations.  There are so many rules and regulations for each process that I've forgotten what they all are.  My point being is that my little boy will be driving.  Why, it was just last week he was 3 and asking for a cheese samich.  Now he's 15 and a half and....is asking for a new car.

Zoom Zoom.

The Red Rocker

I read Sammy Hagar's autobiography over the past couple days.  I had to read it fast because it's due back at the library and both of us wanted to get our hands on it. We had waited over 2 months to get it and the waiting list is still crazy long.

The first 3 chapters are so poorly written that I very nearly gave up on it.  I'm glad I didn't though. It's as though his co-author finally took over after that.  I mean, the entire book certainly isn't the finest piece of literature out there, but it's not the worst book ever written.  Did you know Sammy was into numbers and astrology?  I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but it sure sounded smart to me.  And did you know that with a few of his friends, he founded the first mountain bike business in California?  Sold that business for millions.  He invented his own brand of tequila too and eventually sold that business for a cool 100 million dollars. His chain restaurants support local charities.  His Cabo Wabo Cantinas support local rockers. But it was his relationship with the Van Halen's that was most interesting to me.  Biased?  Oh hell yeah, but it still makes for a really cool read.  Those brothers, according to Sammy, are extremely fucked up in a very fucked up sort of way.  But even he admits that when the times were good, it was magic. 

Makes me want to download everything Sammy and Van Halen now.  Isn't that what the book is supposed to do?  Well it worked.

Rock on.