To Think of Killing People & Misogyny

It is an ordinary thought, is it not? Just think of how many less assholes there would be in society if one was freely able to kill them. Then again, we could wipe out all of humanity, thinking of all the assholes that need to be shot.
Maybe I'm not in the best mood today. But who gives a shit? More importantly, who gives a shit other than me? For this is my blog, no one else's, so everyone who doesn't like it can go fuck themselves.
Maybe I should be called an asshole for just saying that. Undoubtedly, the people I think are assholes probably think I am one myself. And so, let the killing begin, along with the destruction of our entire species!
(You notice I do not use the word bitch when referring to people. That is because I find the word incredibly offensive—more so because of the internet's recent use—misuse?—of it.)

But, seriously. My thoughts waver to misogyny. Again, caffiene high. I won't explain myself further.
Anyway, I want to talk to you about a certain culture—one that I have intimate experience with (that is to say, I used to be a part of it), in which misogyny is so inbred that everyone acknowledges it as a given. As if women are evil, and should be the lesser gender. And no one in that culture is more misogynistic than the women themselves. I have seen women who are best friends constantly and subtly put each other down whenever speaking to one another. Not to mention gossip behind their backs, all the while being completely sweet to the face. In such a culture, women who are friends (and I use the word lightly) actually follow more the role of many followers and a single leader. There is one leader in such a circle of friends. The one that everyone follows, showers with complements, try to emulate in every single way, and insult when she is not there.
In the past, I've had experience with both types of roles. First, I was (naturally) a follower. And like most followers, I was quite annoying. However, even then, I could never understand why we always did what she wanted to do. Why we always followed her wherever she went, no matter the fact that it was where I didn't want to go (namely, outside). You can tell, even then, I was starting to branch off. I was always quite the loner.
Afterwards, unfortunately, I became the leader. It was unwillingly done, I assure you, as the thought of those followers still annoy me to this day. So much so that I started avoiding them whenever I could (though a school is never large enough when you wish to avoid people). They never left me alone, they always copied what I did, and they always had a way of subtly putting me down. You can understand why I strived to avoid them.
However, I seem to have digressed. What I mean to say is, in such a culture, women are never equals to one another. All of them have been taught by society to be defined by men, and to be better than one another (in their pursuit of men). That in turn leads to a certain sort of negative competitive personality in which they view each other as obstacles that need to be taken down.
You have to wonder at the brilliance of such a society. Women cannot protest their rights, because they themselves are the largest perpetrators of misogyny.
I even see evidence of this in Western culture, when there are only two women in a certain media (a novel, a TV show, or a movie), and they are rivals for a certain man's affection. One is always portrayed as "the bitch" (mostly in high school dramas), while the other is the modest, virginal, cherry blossom (as if a woman can only be one of the two). And they hate each other.
Or the two are best friends, but they are enemies when it comes to the man of their affections (most notably, Archie Comics). And then they hate each other.
Again, I've rarely ever seen women just be friends in media. Without a man getting in the way.

Well, the point of that long and boring rant was that I'm getting really sick of romance novels.
Yes, that was what I was leading up to.
It's just that... I can never find a book where there isn't this "evil bitch" that's out to get her man, or where the woman is always this pathetic creature that strives to always be modest and virginal, or where the woman is this confident, ass-kicking girl in the beginning, but turns into this pathetic understanding creature that forgives the male anything, regardless of what he's done (because she's the pure and innocent one in the relationship), or where the only talks with the only other woman in the novel is about the man.
Maybe I'm bitter. Maybe I should "branch out." Whatever.

Sometimes, I ackowledge to myself that there's a reason I don't wish to take Gender Studies. As the mere thought of women's rights make me angry, you can imagine how I'd feel in that class.
And I don't like to be angry. It's a terrible emotion, one that brings out a very rude and sarcastic (and close-minded) version of myself.
I can just see myself say, "Fuck you and your opinions! I'm right and everyone should listen to me!" in just that very juvenile way when arguing with someone about something I am passionate about.

And, God, I'm feeling very bitter and angry today.
I think I'll be misogynistic and blame it on PMS.

Everyday I'm Shovelin'

Thought I'd start off with this picture as to how weather was today:

Yeah, it was crazy today. We had a huge blizzard, and all the universities (including mine!) were shut down for today. I guess it would've mattered more had I shown up for the other past two days...

When I stepped outside, the snow was literally up to mid-thigh. The snow plows worked hard to get the roads cleared as much as possible—priority was given to the main roads, of course. Here's another image to show you what it was like today: (Gosh, I'm chock-full of images today, aren't I?)

Apparently there were armies of them, lol. I wasn't awake when they started doing their work. Speaking of work, my supervisor called to say that my shift had been cancelled because the store was completely dead due to the weather. Well, at least someone got paid that day.

You know, ever since global warming, Canadian weather has been weird as fuck. Today, it's snowing like crazy and we have a huge snowstorm. But apparently on Monday, it's going to be 6°C, which is really warm!

In December, it rained all month. It didn't snow at all, until the day after Christmas! Then, it snowed like crazy, then it rained, then it was so hot that people wore spring jackets, then it snowed like crazy again... see where I'm going here??

You know, I used to remember a time when weather was consistent. Sure, it was always cold, but you got used to it, and you knew what to expect. I remember one time when it rained like crazy, and then the next day it was so cold that the entire thing had iced over. Everything was covered in ice—grass, roads, pavement—and, a few hours later, salt was everywhere (much to the dismay of all the kids playing on the ice).

Nowadays, I always carry my umbrella, wear my snow boots, and keep a light jacket handy, in case it gets too warm. Now tell me if that's not fucked up. During last year's march break, it was freezing, then it was raining, then it was so hot people were wearing shorts, and then it snowed.

And that's Canadian weather. No one even listens to the weather forecasters anymore, since it's always completely random.

de Français

Salut, tout le monde! Aujourd'hui, je vais écrire en français. Je veux découvrir si je peux, mais, déjà, il est très difficile. Je n'ai pas pris cette classe en... eh bien, je l'ai pris en mon dixième année. Donc maintenant, c'est quatre années. Après mes essais cette semaine, je vais utiliser Rosetta Stone pour améliorer mon français. J'espère que ça marchera. o.0 Bien que je devrais se concentrer sur mes devoirs... meh. J'ai des temps. Je veux vraiment apprendre de français. Je veux sera bilingue. Puis, je serai impressionnant! :D
Maintenant, je dois sortir. Je ne peux pas écrire plus. Je ne sais de beaucoup. Au revoir!

Rant About a Book

Okay, so instead of studying like a good little student for my physics and calculus test this friday, I decided to read some contemporary romance (mostly because I've already read every urban fantasy book imaginable). Then I realized I had read Lisa Kleypas so much that I had actually memorized passages. So it was time to go on the internet and search for recommendations of authors like Lisa Kleypas.
One author that kept coming up was Susan Elizabeth Philips. Ugh. All I can say, now that I've tried reading one of her novels, is that I wish I could somehow transport inside the internet and STRANGLE the people who said she was ANYTHING like Lisa Kleypas.
So, deciding to read one of her books, I picked up a novel about this heroine who's a Physics Ph. D, and professor at Burberry who wanted to get a baby of her own (yeah, I know—the smart girl stereotype of wanting to be a housewife—as if society can't accept the fact that an intelligent woman will want to be independent), so she tricks a football player into getting her pregnant. Then he finds out, goes all ballistic about "his child being born a bastard" (excuse me, Ms. Philips, do you know what century this is??) so he demands they get married despite them hating each other and being miserable for... well basically until the last ten pages when they "magically" fall in love and live happily ever after. Yeah, I know the plot is really stupid, but it could have been at least a little bit believable. Also, before that, he threatens to sue her ass for full custody unless she marries him—so she, being the strong and smart physics professor... agrees meekly? Cue rant.
What.... I just can't... HOW does this make sense?? If it had been me writing the story, I would have made the heroine say, "Sure, try to sue my ass for full custody. We'll see how far you get. I'm the mother of this child. Every jury in this country will go on my side—plus I have a steady career, while you're just an old football player who won't last that much longer, the way you're aging." Instead, she acts scared and trapped, as if she's some fifth century woman, and basically agrees with everything he says, "because she was wrong in tricking him in the first place."
You know, I hate books like these, where the woman always has to be the humble, modest, and the truthful person in the relationship (oh, and let's not forget being completely virginal—or just having slept with one other person). I mean, why can't she be the bitch, for once?
Nooo, because it's the bitch who always gets her comeuppance, while the chauvinistic bastard can just keep carrying on with the 20-year-olds, and he'll just sound like he "needs someone permanent in his life."
Oh, and, by the way, I am twenty years old (well, very nearly) and the thought of having sex with some guy older than 30 physically disgusts me. But, for some reason, the old assholes don't seem to understand that, continually trying to hit on me in clubs. Like, honestly, what the fuck makes you think I'd do anything with you?? I feel like playing the song "Dinosaur" by Kesha whenever one comes nearby.
I mean, I can take someone ten years older than me. But no more. My night school teacher was really hot, and he was 29—which was ten years older than me, at the time (although most of my classmates thought he was around 26—guess I'm just attracted to younger-looking guys). Okay, I'm going off-topic here. Back to the point.
Yeah. So the male protagonist keeps going on about how she's "so old" (when he thinks she's twenty-eight—oh, and, by the way, he's 36). Then gets even angrier when he finds out she's actually 34.
Seriously?? Like, seriously?? He talks about how he likes women "when they're still fresh." Just so you know how much of a douchebag the male character is. And Ms. Philips wrote him that way!
I mean, I know Lisa Kleypas writes chauvinistic heroes as well, but they're just chauvinistic in the way that they need all the control, and they like taking care of the heroine. They don't complain about the age, intelligence, whatever, about the character. In fact, they encourage those characteristics. And since romance novels are just basically porn for female readers, I don't mind the male having the control. Okay, well, most of the time. No, some of the time. Well, if I trust them enough to that point (which might take around a decade of dating). But, whatever, that's my own trust issues. The point is, I can't EVER believe Susan Elizabeth Philips was compared to Lisa Kleypas (especially in her contemporary writings—in which the male characters are far less chauvinistic than in her historicals).
So, yeah. I feel a lot better now.
All that's left is to burn that half-rate excuse of a romance book.

When You Get Caught Talking to Yourself

... Yeah. Not fun when people think you may just be a little out of it. Then again, I guess I am a bit. o.0

But, seriously. Who doesn't do it? Well anyone at least marginally sane, that is. Sometimes, I just feel like there's two people inside my head, and me:

1. The one that I rarely ever listen to—the one who always tells me to sleep on time (yeah, right—who needs sleep, anyway?) and do my homework on time, and learn how to cook so I don't waste like $300 a month (and that's on the low side) on ordering out food.
2. And the one that I always listen to (despite my better judgement—see #1 for my better judgement)—the one that tells me to read and watch TV and surf the internet when I have a crapload of work due the next day, or even the next hour.

But my responsibilities are growing ever larger (much to my dissatisfaction), to the point that I can't ignore them as completely as I could have before. Take work, for example.

Work, as in a job that provides money, is something that I literally can't take for granted. I don't know why—maybe it's the fact that, when I was growing up, money was always an issue, and independence something difficult to find without the sufficient financial support. Whenever I go to work, though I know it's minimum wage and something that's not going to last forever—something that I shouldn't want to last forever, if I'm to aim my sights higher, I work harder than I do in any other area of my life. I'm always on time, I always do as many of my required tasks as I can, and, most of all, I concentrate and work hard on doing the best that I can. Maybe it's because it's minimum wage, and therefore I know I'm replaceable—easily and affordably.

Before I ever had a part-time job, I was incredibly lazy. In fact, there were weeks on end where I would do nothing except watch TV or read.

But school... that's something that's becoming somewhat of an issue. For years, I've had a really bad habit of not doing my work until the very last second, and it's gotten progressively worse. Now that there's the issue of the government loan hanging on my head if I don't do well, the pressure is increasing.

Before, I could just fuck off homework and do marginally well, or barely pass. And even if I didn't, well, I just told myself that there'd always be the next time.

I can't do that anymore. If I fail a course, that's around $800 per semester that I'm wasting. In fact, I already failed a course, and now I'm going to have to spend another $800 to take it in the summer. For someone who's saving up for braces (I mean, I'm 19 now—I really need to get them soon), that's a huge blow.
Not to mention that if I fail too many courses, or do far too badly, I'll get kicked out of university, and have to pay off the rest of my student loan—with nothing to show for it.

I really can't fail anymore. But now I have work on top of school, and somehow I need to balance that, along with improving my bad habits from the past couple years of complete laziness (or depression, depending on your point of view)—as well as starting to work out again, because I've gotten really fat ever since losing my bike in that accident.

The voice that keeps telling me to do better is growing progressively louder—to the point that I get caught yelling at myself, and muttering what needs to be done. Thankfully, that's only when I drink too much caffeine.

As you can tell from me typing this up at 1am in the morning, I may have had too much caffeine today. Although my customers didn't mind. They were far more talkative than usual—then again, so was I. But I am surprised they understood half of what I was saying, as I was talking too fast for even me to understand myself.

Sometimes, I feel I'm more productive when I'm yelling at myself and on a huge caffeine high. I really don't know why.