Since everyone else is talking about it...

As a student of Towson University, I am acclimated to certain things: annoying daily announcements delivered via email, tomato mozzarella panini's from P-Tux, long lines for omelettes or pasta, and, of course, seeing my university in the news on a routine basis.

Now, a lot of universities get recognition for a ton of great things- outstanding faculty, sustainability projects, their sports teams, etc. and I feel as though Towson has a lot of these things. I've had some really great professors. The campus is green enough for me. Our football team doesn't suck. I mean, we have a good amount of things going for us. When people ask me where I go to school, and I tell them, "Towson University," and then they ask me how I like it, I don't sugarcoat things. I tell them that it's okay. It's basically a commuter school, and I'm really not a fan of campus life, but as far as value goes, I'm definitely pleased. It's not Harvard; it's an in-state public school, and as far as in-state public schools go, I'd say Towson is doing pretty well. For the most part, anyway. But we won't get into that.

People may also say, "Oh, Towson? I've seen you all in the news lately." To which I roll my eyes. Because we're not in the news for anything wonderful. We're in the news because of something dumb. We're in the news because of a "White Student Union."

Now, before you get on my case about freedom of speech and all that shit, I will give you a basic rundown about how I feel about this group.

I realise that there are many student unions here on campus, and I'm fine with any group that just wants to get together and celebrate their culture. That's fine. That's not hurting anyone. I don't care "what culture you're celebrating" and I don't care what you're doing to celebrate it. Like I said, as long as nobody is being hurt, there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. If you really feel insecure enough about being a white person that you need to form a group and "celebrate European history and culture" together, be my guest.

Which brings me to another point. Exactly what European history and culture are you celebrating? I emailed them with this question and they still haven't answered back. Apparently going to a conservative action conference and advocating racial segregation is considered "celebrating European culture?" I don't get it.

Next, I really don't feel the need to be escorted around by these people at night. Campus is relatively safe, and as long as you're not walking around at like, 10 pm, you're fine. If you need to get somewhere at 10 pm, there is a shuttle. Honestly, I just don't understand this group. Let's go and chalk a bunch of racist shit all over campus and then offer to escort people around at night! It just doesn't make sense to me. Not to mention, of course, every evening when I go to practice, I almost always see a Towson police officer at some point during the walk. So, I mean, they're doing their job. I really don't need a bunch of white supremacists escorting me around at night. I don't care how much "firearms training" and pepper spray you have. This leads me to yet another point.

How the hell are you going to write on your blog (which, of course, is on the internet for everybody to see) that you went to firearms training in order to establish night patrols on a college campus and not expect the entire campus to be pissed off with you? This is the number one thing that I don't understand. They have a blog with an about section that states a very vague mission: to celebrate European culture and history. Well, I would like to remind them that European history and culture is very broad. So what exactly are they celebrating? How are night patrols helping their mission? I don't understand. On said blog, they basically celebrate the fact that they have been labeled a hate group, and just continue to let people know how proud they are to be so extreme, and then the president of the club goes on the news and talks to the school newspaper about how victimised they are, and how many death threats they've received, and how everyone who is opposed to his stupid club is just intolerant and doesn't have their facts right. The president also goes on to say how if the Black Student Union decided to do night patrols, they would get away with it. Uh, news flash, they haven't been dumb enough to bring up the idea. You're not helping anyone on campus, you're just looking to get another five minutes in the news. Really, get over yourself.

To my next point. I think this White Student Union is less of an actual organisation with an actual mission, and more of a way for an insecure student to get his name in the news. Seriously, if you go to the blog, he refers to himself as "Commander." Really? You're a college undergrad, not a dictator. And also, if this really was just an innocent little club with no intention of doing any harm, then "president" would do just fine. Commander? Really? Give me a fucking break. It's bad enough you want to follow me around at night with your knowledge of firearms, but I definitely would not like to have to call you Commander every time I tell you to get out of my face.

Now, I would typically end with something about how much this group sucks, but it's giving them the attention they want. In fact, this whole blog post has given them all the attention they want. I'm not going to give them a death threat, because it's what they want. They want to be painted as martyrs. They want people to see them as victims in a cruel world of "liberal media and multiculturalism." I refuse to stoop to their level, though. I refuse to give them as much hate as they have given everybody else on campus, because it doesn't make me any better of a person. Honestly, I'm just going to hope this kid gets laid sometime soon, so that he can find something better to do with his time then run a hate group.

Blah

I've done it. I've reached the "f*** it" point of the school year.

This, I have found in the past few hours, is a pretty common occurrence on a college campus. So basically, it all started when I came back from spring break and I was immediately depressed by all of the work I have to do. It's kind of like waking up on a day where there was supposed to be snow, but there isn't, and now you've stayed up all night and had fun only to have to go to school the next day and bullshit all the homework you didn't do. It's kind of like that. Because, after all, spring break is like the Christmas of the semester. But it's different in that you blink and then it's over. That's literally what happened to me this break. I blinked. Then I came back. No fun.

So anyway, I came back, and ever since, I've been in montage mode. Like, the mode where you're like, "yeah, gonna get shit done!" and you just listen to really inspirational music, like the "Be a Man" song from Mulan, and "Eye of the Tiger." You imagine yourself running up stairs made of homework and tests and getting to the top and just punching the whole thing to hell. Yup, that's me. Except that for every five minutes I spend doing homework, I spend another ten minutes just sitting at my desk being frustrated about all of the homework I have to do. Like now.

Earlier, since I did a whole four problems of my homework, I decided to go out and practice and get food, since all I could think about was how hungry I was. Apparently everyone else and their mother decided that getting food at 9:30 pm in sweats on a Tuesday night was a great idea. Which was great, because there was no way I was gonna feel embarrassed at this one, but at the same time, I'm left wondering what Towson has put in the water...

I don't really feel like writing, but I guess I'll do it anyway

If somebody told me that on March 25th, I would wake up to this, I would have totally called you a liar. 

I have no clue what to write about today, so I'm just going to use this picture as inspiration.

This is snow.

It's also Spring.

I have honestly never experienced this.

Okay, enough of that.

So I went ahead and looked up the name of this storm, since it actually hasn't been made a huge deal (which is surprising, given the fact that it's almost April...). The name of this storm is Virgil, which I guess makes sense. According to Wikipedia, Virgil is ranked as one of Rome's greatest poets. Poets are really complicated individuals, so I guess the name for this one makes a lot of sense. Only a deep, complicated storm would decide to hit at the end of March.

I did it for the learning experience

Today I learned a very important lesson: whatever city you find yourself in, make sure to avoid route 40.

I learned this lesson today as I was riding along to my moms doctor's appointment in Baltimore... You can guess how well that went.

The appointment was in White Marsh, which is where I'm safely sitting now reflecting on this whole ordeal.

Things I've learned:
1) If your mom tells you her appointment is in White Marsh, and then hands you a paper with a Baltimore address on it, double and triple check it and basically just keep asking about it until she comes to the realisation that it's the wrong freaking address.

2) If you get to the Baltimore beltway, and you know that you're going to White Marsh, the answer is always 695 N. And if your GPS tells you to take 695 S instead, it's probably a good indication that it is taking you to that wrong address that you typed in.

3) GPS units have no soul. They have no concern for your well being and are only concerned with getting you where you need to go in the quickest way possible, even if it means taking you through the ghetto. They really do not have an "avoid ghetto" option.

4) If a GPS unit tells you to go on Rt. 40 to go through a city, it's wrong. Every city has a ghetto, and every ghetto seems to have a Rt. 40 going right through it.

5) If your mom is driving through the ghetto of Baltimore, there's really no "looking on the bright side." If you're trying to "laugh it off," you're only going to worry her and she's never going to let you leave the house again. She probably doesn't want to hear about "what a fun adventure this is."

6) If you're driving past bars that are open at 10 o clock in the f***ing morning, it's a good indication that you've reached the ghetto. It's best to turn around at this point and find some other route to take before you're to the point where you're actually considering religion.

Ultimately, now that I'm safe and I've survived, I can look back and say that it was quite an experience. I'll definitely never get that kind of mother-daughter bonding time again. But that probably has to do with the fact that she's never taking me on a road trip again... XD

Here it is, the Walking Dead post

So, as everybody/nobody may have noticed, I haven't really been blogging too much as of late. There are two reasons for this.

1) Midterms. And by midterms, I mean one.
2) Walking Dead.

It's mostly the second one.

It all began as I was perusing my Netflix homepage, and I was all like, "Hm, there's a lot about Walking Dead on facebook, maybe it's worth watching." Of course, if you've ever seen the show, you know that you're hooked from the moment you add it into your instant queue, so I think you can guess what happened. I watched the first episode of season 1 on Monday morning, and watched the last episode of season 2 the next Sunday. And now I'm sad that I have to wait for season 3 to be put on Netflix, but am also happy about the temporary sense of liberation I have until then.

Now, I feel about this show, the way that a mother would feel about her teenager. You sit on the sidelines, screaming in frustration about all the stupid shit that he/she is doing, but there's not a thing you can do about it, and at the end of the day, you're just waiting in anticipation to see what's going to happen next. That's how I feel about this show. A lot of these characters just do the stupidest shit unimaginable and sometimes, I almost can't handle it.

First of all, if you were in a coma, you woke up, nobody is around, and you see half of a zombie coming at you, I don't care how many horror movies you were deprived of as a kid, it's pretty apparent that there is a mother flipping zombie apocalypse. At this point, I would have grabbed the bike and pedaled as hard as I could have, as Rick did, but I wouldn't just chill out on a porch somewhere waiting for the rest of them to show up. You think if you see a zombie coming at you, and you go in your house to find that your wife and son had left, that there's only one freaking zombie? Yeah, Rick, your wife and kid and everyone else in the town left because that one zombie in the park was really becoming quite an eyesore. You're lucky you're the main character, because anybody else who let their guard down like that would have become walker food.

Next, you know, he decides to drive a car to Atlanta, which I guess I can kind of understand, since the CDC is located there and he was told about a safe haven and everything, but I would have at least taken gas into consideration. The last thing I want to do is be stranded on a deserted road and have to ride a horse into the middle of a zombie ridden city. Which brings me to my next point. Why the hell would you take a f***ing horse into the middle of what was once a very populated city? At least take something that goes fast and isn't spooked at everything and doesn't have to stop to shit. It really isn't rocket science to know that zombie virus (or virus of any kind for that matter) + heavily populated areas does not equal any kind of good. Just ask Asia about SARS. It's a zombie apocalypse, you really can't be too optimistic. If I would have entered Atlanta to see nothing but ruins, I would have turned my ass right around and left. I would have taken that horse straight to Wyoming.

Now, there are just so many things that really frustrate me, I really can't name them all. There's the abandonment of the buddy system for one thing. I mean, come on, 8 year old girl scouts understand that. You obviously cannot let your sister go pee during a zombie apocalypse. Nor would I just leave the door hanging open and my arm just sitting there like walker bait. These people were obviously deprived of zombie movies growing up. Really, the list of stupid stuff just goes on and on and on, which brings me to my next idea:

What I would do in the event of a zombie apocalypse:

Well, first of all, if I saw my best friend safe with my wife and son on some colony, I would obviously assume that my friend is banging my wife. It really doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. Next, I would go to somewhere very remotely populated, like the Rocky Mountains. Or maybe the desert. I wonder what a dry heat does to zombies. If anything, I will propose that the world come up with a designated "safe haven" in the event of a zombie apocalypse. Just get a bunch of people together, geographers, engineers, architects, and extreme couponers and build a city complete with everything you would ever need in the event of a zombie apocalypse. That way, nobody is running around the entire country looking for their family, you know that if they are alive, they are en route to the city and you will meet them there. Bam. Genius. Why the hell are we writing petitions about building death stars when we could be writing petitions planning this out? Now, after I am safe, I would find a very secure, stone building, fort type of thing, teach myself to shoot guns, find a dog, and live out the rest of my existence quietly avoiding zombies.

Of course, my life would not have the amount of insane drama that Walking Dead does, which is why if anyone were to document my experiences, it would not be a critically acclaimed TV series. But I'm okay with that.

If I ever find myself homeless, I can always move to Ikea

Whoever said that Disney World is the happiest place on Earth was wrong. It's Ikea.

I was actually given the privilege of being reminded of the wonderfulness of Ikea this evening. What started out as a run to Safeway for some chips turned into an "OMG WE NEED TO GO TO IKEA" moment. I don't know what it was, whether it was the meatballs, the ligonberries (spell check seems to think "ligonberries" should actually be "liberalness") or the thought of all of that cheap comfortable furniture, just waiting to be sit in, but those Swedish flags were calling to me. I felt it. 

It's the best feeling walking into Ikea. It's basically comparable to that feeling when you were little, and you walked into a restaurant with a HUGE playplace and you opened those doors and felt the rays of sunshine and glory just radiating off of that giant, plastic castle. That's Ikea. You open the doors, and you see the Swedish signs everywhere and you're just bouncing with excitement on the inside. This is your playground, only without the dirty ball pit, the tetanus and the AIDS.

Now, you are basking in the awesomeness of Ikea, but is has its downfalls. After you've sat in every single pretend living room there is, and imagined yourself living in a hip, modern downtown Stockholm apartment, you feel a minor sadness. Kind of a sadness over the fact that you will never be Swedish.

But that feeling soon subsides, because my favourite game (and probably the favourite game of everyone I know), besides hide and seek, is called "buy everything I see." I don't know what it is about Ikea, but for some reason, you need everything. You need more forks, knives, and spoons. You need a cool looking pillow. You need a lamp that looks like Medusa. You need a shower curtain. Honestly, you could have all of the potato peelers in the world, but when you pass by the modern, trendier version of the potato peeler, you need it. You could be a college student, living in a dorm, but for some reason you need a children's bed (actually hopefully you don't, for obvious reasons). This is a strange psychology, because I could go to Walmart and not give any of those things a second glance, but for some reason, if the Swedish word for it is on the tag, I want it.

So I know what you're thinking. How much damage was done at Ikea? Well, actually, I'll have you know that I was good. After carrying a cool pillow throughout most of the store, I put it aside for these KICK ASS LIGHTS. Seriously. I may not go out and party, and I don't go to clubs, and I also don't stay up until 2 am studying for tests, but I display my "college student" in other ways. Better ways. Like with how distracted I am by pretty lights. Anyway, all it took was for me to play with the colour adjusting knob for like, five seconds before I decided that I was going home with these lights. Because who doesn't need cool colour changing lights? I am a girl of complex emotions. Sometimes, I just wanna look at a red light. Other times, I need a blue one. Sometimes, I'm gonna need a mix of blue and green. They're just perfect for me, and I can't help but think of all of the wonderful times I'm gonna have with these lights. And by "wonderful times," I mean, if I ever find a place to put them, since I don't spend more than five seconds in any one place...

Anyway, after all is said and done, I have cool lights, but we never did find the chips we were looking for. 

Because I'm sure this wouldn't be encouraged in any other degree program

A while ago, and by "a while ago," I mean, "a week or two ago," I decided to retire the world map that is on my wall. Being a geography student, this was kind of a sad day for me, but on the other hand, it was torn, covered in duct tape and sticky tack, and still wouldn't stay up on my wall. If you've ever been woken up in the middle of the night being swallowed by the world, it's actually quite terrifying.

So, of course, I was left with this huge empty space on my wall that did nothing but bother me day in and day out. Maps > blank, empty wall space. So when I was out on a walk one day, I went ahead and just decided to go to the store and buy another map to put up. My intention was another world map, but I was having a redneck moment and upon seeing the US map of the same size and price as the world map, my inner AMURRICA took over, and I left the store with a map of the good ol' U.S. of A. And a really bad ass poster of a skeleton smoking a cigarette. I regret absolutely nothing.

So at this point, I'm extremely happy to be back in my routine of staring at a map before I go to sleep at night, because it's fun and it relaxes the geography nerd in me. Also, the change of scenery was nice. Instead of staring Patagonia in the face every night, I found myself gazing upon a very different sight: the southern United States. It is here that I came to a fun revelation. Yeah, the south has the highest rate of a bunch of nasty things, like poverty, teen pregnancy, obesity, the works, but they have the most interesting city names.

Besides the fact that there are three Athens (in Alabama, Texas, and Tennessee), a Rome in Georgia, a London in Kentucky, and Paris in Texas (because why go to France, when you can just go to Texas), there are these gems.

Mississippi: Picayune, Yazoo City
Alabama: Eufala, Sylacauga, Opelika, Tuscaloosa, Pascagoula
Georgia: Americus (which I presume is pronounced, "AMURRICUS")
Florida: Kissimmee
Texas: Nacogdoches
Oklahoma: Sapulpa, Tahlequah (which shows how much I've let Baltimore influence me, since I pronounced it as rhyming with "Shaneequa")

Then there's my absolute favourite.
Arkadelphia, Arkansas.

You see, in the north, there are a lot of English/French/German names for cities, like Frederick, and Gettysburg, and Westminster, and Detroit. One can most often tell the origin of these city names too. If one drives through Frederick, they will find some German culture lingering around. However, this makes me wonder, who the hell made up the names for the South? Yazoo City? These are purely American names. I mean, there's Americus. And of course, my favourite, good ol' Arkadelphia.

Sometimes I honestly wonder why I picked a geography major. Sometimes I really wonder why I'm settling for a liberal arts degree when I could be a math or science major and have a decent paying job. Sometimes I wish I had a major that trained me for a specific job. Sometimes I question my willingness to stare at maps the rest of my life. And then there are times when I find myself staring at a wall map in my pajamas, snickering over the names of cities, and those are the times that I have complete confidence that I'm definitely on the right path.

Why storms need to earn their names before they're given

This week I have hit a milestone. A minor one, but one to be remembered nevertheless. This Wednesday was my first snow day away from home.

I remember the excitement building up. Saturn was going to be the storm of the freaking century. Which brings me to ask one question that you all are wondering. Why the hell are we naming winter storms??

Well, I did what I always do, and I turned to google, that told me that it was because after "Superstorm Sandy" came through, they got the idea to start naming winter storms, because they're like, "Well, people take a storm more seriously if it has a name. It also gives each storm its own personality." I have a couple of things to say to meteorologists.

1. A name has absolutely nothing to do with how much people take a storm seriously. These people have obviously never worked at a grocery store. The forecast for the day could say "Partly cloudy with a 30% chance of a dusting of snow" and everyone and their mother is in the store buying milk and bread. This brings me to a minor tangent.

• Why are people buying perishable food items during a storm? Why is milk the first thing on your mind during a snowstorm? Why is it that when people on are telling you that there is a chance the power will go out, the first thing you think to get is an extremely perishable item? I have never quite understood this logic. Why aren't people buying logical things, like batteries? And bottled water? And room temperature food that comes in wrappers and boxes? Well, apparently because they don't go very well with cereal. 

2. Why the hell does a storm need a personality? It's not a human. It's a storm. "Here is storm (insert bad ass greek/roman name). He likes long walks on the beach, has a winning smile, and a sense of humour that just won't quit." Of course, storms never have personalities like that. They're all vengeful, evil, soulless things just waiting to unleash their wrath wherever and whenever they can. Because they're a storm, and that's what storms do. 

Now, when I heard that this storm was gonna hit, I was excited, because this is Maryland, and getting snow is like when you went to the grocery store when you were little and your mom said you could have candy. It just doesn't happen that often, so when it does happen you're like "YES. THIS IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW." So of course, me being the busy college student that I am was like, "Hell yeah, snow in the middle of the week? BRING IT, SATURN." Not to mention, I was also excited that I was being hit by a snowstorm named Saturn. It's pretty much one of my favourite planets. But it's also a pretty bad ass name. Of all things to be struck by, you're being struck and surrounded by a roman god. Pretty cool stuff.

Except it wasn't cool. It was literally an inch of snow and that's it. It didn't even rain. Which brings me to my idea of the story: If you're going to name a storm, do so after it has done something really awesome and bad ass that has earned it its name. Also, if you're going to pull the whole "storms having personality card," then name the storm afterwards. Then you can give it some really awesome name. Like snowmageddeon three years ago. That storm got me out of school for two weeks. That storm has definitely earned a name. But this past snow storm? I'm going to have the image of Saturn forever soiled in my mind. 

Actually, never mind. I saw a picture of Saturn. He looks quite fabulous. The image is actually quite comparable to the total of three snowflakes we received.  

The joys of roommates

Things that my roommates feel the need to talk about and do when it's midnight and they see me out in the kitchen doing my homework:

• Talk about weaves. Other bitches and they weaves, their own personal woes with their weaves. Just can't get that shit to stay flat? That's probably because it's not real hair. Not entirely sure why your bedroom door has to be open for that conversation.
• Talk about their savings accounts and how fast their money is disappearing. Remember this, as it comes back later.
• Come out in the kitchen and open the fridge, point to everything and talk about how much it cost. $2.99 for sausage? Glad I don't give a shit. 
• Proceed to pull out said sausages and begin cooking dinner. At midnight. 
• Decide that it's entirely too cold for them in the living room that they never spend any time in, and proceed to walk over, and turn the heat up to the highest possible setting. You know, the one that is comparable to the temperature in hell. 
• Go on a rant about how they will never eat organic food, because they like salt too much. Also because they ain't givin' up mama's pot roast, uh-uh. They will STAY with their blubber. Okay, last time I checked, going organic isn't like going on weight watchers. 
• Apparently sausages aren't enough, so they need to start making fries and scrambled eggs to go with it. Seriously, at this point, you're about 8 hours early for breakfast.

So after drowning my sorrows in ice cream, I decided that it was finally time to leave when as I was typing the word "task," it came out "taks."

My time spent as a secluded individual

Alright, I caved. I feel kind of bad for it, but it's all Bill Cosby's fault. But I'll talk about that another time.

Basically this whole "no social internet" stuff was really good for me, and in a way, I wish that I could just keep my facebook deactivated, because it was so nice, but unfortunately, facebook is just the way that my generation communicates nowadays. Actually, you know what? I may just deactivate it again. There. I've done it. It feels great. I actually kept a diary of the past few days without the internet.

Actually I just reactivated it again. I'm really having an internet identity crisis here.

Anyway, my times without social networking:


Sunday night: Within the span of about two hours, I cleaned my dorm room, I organised my bookshelf, I took out the trash, I did the dishes, and put all of my clothes away. I also sorted a bunch of stuff and I now have a bag full of stuff that I don't need ready to go home. I know people are reading this and thinking, really? How hard could that have been? You cleaned your room. Congrats, want a cookie? But seriously, you didn't see my room. Actually, I couldn't even see my room, since it was such a mess. All I saw was mess. But seriously, I got more done in two hours than I have in two months and it felt GREAT.

Monday night: I've made it 24 hours without social networking. I'm starting to feel kind of lonely. I catch myself automatically typing "facebo-" in the web address bar before I stop myself. I did, however, get a B+ on a test I was sure I was actually going to fail, so that's good. I also finished all of my homework. And I walked four miles. But I've started to feel the "deserted island" effect. Kind of like when you are at a party full of people and you just get up and leave out of the blue and then you start feeling really lonely even though you're the one who left everyone. I am going through the period now where I'm trying to justify everything by saying something like, "oh, well if I'm not happy without talking to others, then I probably should just reactivate everything and connect with reality again." On the other hand though, I did this for myself in order to catch up on everything that I was leaving unfinished. Cutting myself off for now is a good thing, it's just that my brain is still like a baby and when I can't see people, I just assume they don't exist. It's weird. But whatever. I'll get through it.

Tuesday: I decided that if I'm basically cutting myself off from civilisation, I'd better get some good books to read, so I woke up this morning and bought "The Alchemist" and "The Prophet," because they're both self discovery books with awesome reviews, which I feel would be a good thing for me. Actually, since "The Prophet" is online as well, I went ahead and read a chapter and my life is already better for doing so. After reading that, I was like, okay, since I'm on a roll, I should keep reading awesome things, so then I read "Body Ritual Among the Nacirema," which was also awesome. Then I called to get my taxes done. Then I walked three miles. Then I made four maps. Then I went out and hung out with a friend, came back, finished my homework, and it was awesome. Today I really discovered that there is a lot more to the internet than I originally thought. There's so much awesome reading material out there, so many things to learn, so many videos to watch. The internet is kind of like an iceberg actually. I only see the top 10%, that being facebook, my email, etc., but there is SO MUCH MORE AND IT'S AWESOME. I mean, there's way more to the world too, but we already knew that. I would have done more today, but there's a blizzard coming and I've reached the point (since it's 1 am and I'm not going to sleep anytime soon) that I really hope we don't have class tomorrow....

So yeah, my time without the social internet.

The fact that Snooki is allowed to mate goes against everything I ever believed in

So, I have noticed particularly in the past couple of days, that I have seen a drastic increase in the amount of girls posting pictures of engagement rings and wedding stuff to their pinterest. My first reaction, of course, is why is everyone posting this stuff on a public website that their boyfriends can see? If there's one thing I learned actually, this kind of stuff apparently freaks men out. Not every man, but young men. Like college age men. Like, men that my friends are dating. And it's unfortunate, because I think men should be flattered that women want to spend the rest of their lives with you. I mean, evolutionarily speaking, we only accept the best. We can't just have anyone fertilising our eggs; we want someone with a lot of good qualities. So men should be flattered that we are planning our future together on our internet accounts.

So why do women my age want to be married so badly?

1. Romantic Comedies
2. It's the same as being in a relationship, except with nice jewelry involved
3. We get a day all about us. 

So really, men. Calm your tits. This is the just the basic psychology of women at work here.

I actually really wanted to talk about stupid people today, so I will do that now.

I have gotten a lot of crime alerts recently on campus, mostly peeping toms taking pictures of girls in public restrooms (which is precisely the reason why I will never use a campus bathroom ever again). This is exactly why we can't have nice things. It doesn't matter how nice an invention is, there is always some douchebag out there to ruin it for the rest of us. Man invents something as nice as the camera, sure enough, someone uses it to take pictures of peeing girls. Humans were nice enough to invent the public restrooms for us, and of  course, there are the people who pee all over the seat, take toilet paper and rip it up and throw it all over the stall, people who leave used tampons just hanging out of the trash can, and worst of all, the people who just don't fucking flush. Humans invented the concept of dance, and of course, what do we do? We invent the Harlem Shake.

There is a part of me that just wants Social Darwinism to make itself a little more apparent. But since things like Snooki can have children, I don't see that happening anytime soon.