Jackie's Journal

Okey dokie... and this goes for wakeupapril.com too...

There will be no more personal attacks or derision in the comment section. You can if you'd like, but I'll delete it. We can discuss politics and ideas without making things personal.

First and foremost I'm angry with President Bush and the greed and ignorance of his administration. They don't seem to care or really consider the loss of individual lives, both American and Iraqi, and the ripple effect of other people affected by the war.

I also understand that for some people with limited means, joining the military right out of high school is a pragmatic decision. Some people don't have the money or the means to go to college and the military is a stable and noble decision. I know that once you join you can't easily leave or create dissent from within the system.

But I think it's a terrible, terrible idea to join the military out of a feeling of emotional obligation or patriotism. If you enlist in the military during a time of war, and you have other options, wouldn't you want to understand the dynamic of American foreign affairs before you risk your life to uphold its policies?

Right now, I don't understand why anyone with other options would willingly join the American military. Perhaps I am biased, but I can't support American policy in the middle east, particularly our unwavering support of Israel. I think that policy is damaging to our relationships with other Arab countries.

The history of the middle east, and America's involvment in the middle east is very, very complicated. I'm currently reading "A History of the Arab Peoples" by Albert Hourani to try and get a firmer grasp on the goings on today. It's hard to keep an open mind. I have to remind myself that this is one book and one interpretation of historical events. I'd like to read other online articles to get a broader perspective of what is currently going on.

For example, I recently read about the War in Lebanon in 1982 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1982_Invasion_of_Lebanon.

Anyway, I suppose I convoluted my original point with my political opinion. I'm not saying that people shouldn't join the military at all... or even that they shouldn't join the military now. I just think that if you're going to risk your life and potentially kill others, you should understand the broader scope of your actions. You should understand American foreign policy.

If the American public were more politically aware, it would serve as a check to the administration, but people don't seem to be. They seem to be swayed by their emotions, by public opinion, and by their immediate circumstances.

Honestly, I'm motivated to learn about the middle east A. So that I can be an informed voter. B. So that I can encourage other people to be informed voters. C. A lot of philosophical reasons I won't bore you with. D. Because I want to bitch about the Bush administration... and E. So I won't look stupid in front of my friends. Not one of those reasons includes me risking my life.

So... read up potential soldiers!

I hate it in movies when aliens or robots become humans, because there is always that scene where the alien or robot walks through glass.

Aside from the fact that it's a very elaborate cliche... the concept of glass isn't particularly perplexing. I don't care how clear it is, you can almost always see it anyway because of glare. Also, why do they walk through it with enough force to shatter it? I've hit my head on glass before and nothing shattered excecpt my skull. (Er, long story).

Ok, I figured it out. I actually typed "the bi-TAIN only makes one stop: gaytown" in my journal. Then, when I googled it, I made the same mistake.

So if you google "the bi-tain only makes one stop: gaytown"... then you get my website.

Google this "The bi-train only makes one stop: Gaytown".

Booya.

I updated my real website. It has really pathetic and horribly drawn comics, a list of my celebrity crushes, and I added a bunch of pet peeves and stupid saved by the bell plots and of course, my perpetually intriguing blog. If you don't remember the address it's wakeupapril.com... and leave me an effing note or two. I'd do the same for you.

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

I parted with my website reasonably easily, but I'm not going to delete this. I've had this since I was 19 and it means a lot to me.

From now on I will be blogging at www.wakeupapril.com. Come visit me there!

I've been ass sick all weekend, and getting progressively sicker. At this rate, I will probably be dead by Wednesday. I seriously haven't been this sick since middle school. I woke up last night at 4am with crazy chills, then I went back to sleep, woke up in a cold sweat, went to sleep again, got the chills. My whole body aches. I'm congested and I have a fever. I'm really glad that I'm home. I stayed at my parent's house and my mom has been fawning over me, making me tea and taking care of me. So, really, I'm lucky to have my mom. She's one of the most genuinely nice people I know. I don't think I have this maternal instinct. I see kids and I think... "Where is the nearest can of lysol?"

Sooo000ooo000.... Last night my sister, my dad and I were watching Grey's Anatomy and Meredith had to pronounce one of her patients dead. So I was sitting in front of the t.v. quitely urging her, (the way people do when they watch sports) "Come on Meredith, hold it in, don't cry in front of your patients... save it for later Meredith, you can do it!"

So my dad interjected that the first time you have to pronounced someone dead is an extremely traumatic experience, and although he didn't cry, he still remembers it very vividly to this day. And he consoled himself with a stiff drink and a movie with friends.

Apparently there was this guy from a very poor, small village in Egypt. He was crossing the street, and got run over by a young driver, hit his head on the concrete, was in a coma for a few days, then passed away. I don't know how my dad knew this, but he said that the guy had just gotten accepted into veternary school and was leaving his village to go to school, then return and take care of them, as the richest, most educated among them. So my dad had to pronounce him dead to his whole weeping family, and apparently the guy's mother was blind and kept screaming, "bring him back to me!".

Oh...my...God.... it was the most ridiculously sad story I'd ever heard in my life. By the time my dad finished the story, Kristy and I were crying and he was teary eyed.

I think that my dad's Egypt stories are about on par with medical dramas on tv. That would be a good show... ER in the third world. Dang.

So, I felt bad missing work, but I would've been less than useless today. I'm trying to be positive about my job and think about all the skills it's given me. It's helping me to become more organized and more detail oriented. (I'm learning the fine art of being anal.) I'm no longer afraid of driving to strange places in Dallas without having been there before. (This used to be a big fear of mine, that I would get lost and literally, never find my way home again.)So, although my job is kind of easy and monotonous, it's helping me acquire some useful skills. It's also enabled me to sit down in the same place for 7-8 hours a day (which, in college, was a complete fantasy). I think that if I had worked for a year before I had gone to college, I would have done much better. But, cest la vie. I did reasonably well. I learned a lot. I made a lot of friends, and I know it might sound immature, but one of my main goals was to make a lot of friends, which I succeeded in. And I wanted to experience a lot of random things... which I did as well. I mean, walking 25 blocks through a tornado to get from HEB back to campus wasn't exactly fun at the time, but it was different.

David Bean kept saying, no Jackie, let's just stay here, Jackie I'm scared, I'm scared. And I turned around and yelled BALLS UP AND KEEP MOVING!! Then I got back to the dorm and everyone was like -- Uh, what the fuck happened to you? Since I probably had a crazed look in my eyes, my hair was disarrayed and my clothes were soaking wet. Aw, that was Thanksgiving too. Man, sometimes I miss Littlefield and I definitely miss UT.

Ok Jackie, you balls up and move on with life. Stop missing college. It's over. You're an adult now. Find a husband and a small affordable house.

OH OH, Congratuations Christine on setting up your apartment. :)

Right now I am currently occupied attempting to cough up my lungs. I have bronchitis. Again.

I was informed yesterday at the bar that, "everytime I open my mouth it's like 'blah blah blah',"

My sister's boyfriend took her to see West Side Story performed by Flower Mound High School. How did she managed to get his testicles in a jar so quickly? I'd never make my imaginary boyfriend go see West Side Story with me.

I met a guy in one of my classes this summer who knew Andy Roddick from high school. Supposedly Paris Hilton gave him a blow job and Andy Roddick has pictures of it on his computer.

I don't know if the guy was lying or not. I assume he's lying because I usually assume that most people lie about most things, but if that's true, isn't that a bad idea? If you're the least bit famous, delete your sex pictures. Then suddenly their sex shots and sex tapes are all over the place. Um, I know that if I ever make a sex tape, I'm going to know where it goes. And it will very clearly be labeled "Rangers play Yankees April 2005" so that way I will be sure that nobody will ever watch it, except me, when I'm lonely, like always.

Brian jumproping is the funniest thing I've ever seen pantomimed in my life.

So I thought I'd write an entry about unlikely friendships. People that, upon meeting, you think you'll never talk to again, then for some reason, years later, you're willing to give your right arm for said person.

I also miss hanging out with Mariam, because she and I had a habit of bringing strangers into our conversations. They'd lean over and say, "I couldn't help but overhear..." and bam! We knew people at every coffee shop around campus... like Nathan Payne, author of "The Smell of Sin".

But I'm here. In my own little cell. All by myself like Celine Dion said.

I'm sick at home today and I watched Bridget Jones's Diary again. I think that movie should be banned from chronically single women because it only encourages us to entertain absurd Darcy-induced fantasies. In fact, I'd say I've never seen a leading man more sexy than Colin Firth. All that repressed sexual fire just waiting to light her little British bum ablaze. Woo, did it just get hot in here? Oh Colin so tall with his broad British shoulders and pasty-masculinity.

*cough *cough *cough

What just landed by my feet? Ooooh!! It's one of my beautiful squishy pink lungs. I'm going to go sedate myself and crawl back into bed. Goodnight!

I thought it was obvious that I was joking in my previous post, but apparently, my subtle humor is lost somewhere on the internet. I google image searched "Clay Aiken is not gay" and I found that picture on someone's blogspot with the caption "Evidence of Clay Aiken doing something not gay."

I remember the first time I saw Clay Aiken on American Idol. In his initial audition he didn't strike me as gay-- just really nerdy and awkward. So that's what I said before his first top 10 performance.

*Clay Aiken sings "Sugar Pie Honey Bunch" with a lot of attitude*
Kristy: Your gaydar is broken.
Me: I recant my earlier statement.
Simon Cowell: That sounded like Motown the musical.

So, to quote Omar, this is how I feel about that picture I just posted.

"That's like the gayest thing he's ever done."

http://tvguide.indiatimes.com/articleshow/1384269.cms

Anyone who knows me will know how I feel about this.

Kristy got me addicted to this website myheritage.com. You upload a picture and it tells you what celebrities you look like. I already uploaded a bunch of my friends...

Supposedly I look like Sarah Michelle Gellar.

Rachel - Anna Lindh
Mary Beth - Julianne Moore
Christine - Katie Holmes
Amrin - Edward Norton
Kristy- Elvis Costello
Scott - Elisha Cuthbert
Chris - Nicole Kidman
Mariam - Diana Ross
Katherine Abdou - Ninet Tayeb
Andrew - Kurt Cobain

I didn't see the resemblance in most of them. The most uncanny was Chris and Nicole Kidman. I was like... Holy Cow!! Chris DOES look like Nicole Kidman and Scott does kind of look like Elisha Cuthbert. Gosh, my guy friends are so pretty, I'm jealous.

Mom: Where did you go eat?
Omar: We went to Mr. Chopsticks.
Kristy: Mr. Chopsticks is overrated.
Omar: Your blouse is overrated.

First thing's first, you guys need to update your livejournals and/or various blogs. What am I supposed to do all day? Read the news?? Expand my horizens??? Ugh.

Second-of-ly I'm plowing through this teacher's certificate and applying to jobs all over the place... so I'm just waiting to see what happens. I know I could be a very competent editor, though I'm not sure about my teaching ability. I will just have to wait and see and practice and learn. I might find out that I love teaching and have a passion for it. OR, I might learn that my skills are better suited away from the classroom.

I think I might also need to enact a "no crying" rule for my students, since I plan on making the wee ones cry on a daily basis. No, I kid. I remember my senior year of high school Mrs. Seeley said she was "tired of little girls crying all the time" so she gave us a "no more tears" pass-- a free homework pass we could use if we ever forgot our assignment. I don't know what I will do the first time a student cries. Probably a blank stare and a monotone, robotic, "Why are you crying? Stop crying."

Mrs. Seeley reminds me a little bit of myself...(And I think I was one of the few ppl that liked her, since she was so sacreligious, anti-establishment, and totally offensive.) But I don't think I'll be as bipolar as Mrs. Seeley. She used to take things so personally. I don't think I'll get personally offended if some sixteen-year-old dipshit doesn't understand Hamlet. I'm also getting better at keeping my emotional distance and ignoring provocation. I'm becoming zen, like Joe. Joe is so zen.

If all else fails, if my students bother me I could always use the no fail, "I am rubber, you are glue; whatever you say to me bounces off me and sticks to you." That will put the buggers back in their place. Buggers!

"Life is tough; be a man."

So I've managed to catch a few snippets of the Alito hearings (or maybe, more accurately, the "Judge Alito Murder Trial") on CSPAN, but mostly I have been keeping up via MSN, Slate and the conservative (quasi-credible) blog powerlineblog.com.

I'm not going to go on a political rant. Ok, briefly. First of all, and I'm going to throw this in real quick-- the guy is flaming. Anyway, the hearings are a complete joke. Nobody is going to make their decision about whether or not to confirm Alito based on anything discussed during the hearings. Everyone is going to vote along party lines. The Democrats know this, so basically the hearings are just a forum for Democratic leaders to say, "We struggled in vain against that evil Republican. We took a hard line fighting for your rights." Of course, the Republicans will do the same. It's all PR bullshit and in the end, everyone looks like an asshole (in my eyes anyway.)

But that's not where I'm going. The catalyst for this post had nothing to do with Alito and everything to do with his wife who left the court for a little crying break.

Of course, the next day the newspapers reported, "Alito's wife leaves hearing in tears"... and I was completely irate.

Women, don't cry. (That's an imperative not a declaratory).

My dad told me that quite a few of his employees have cried when he reprimanded them. This is not acceptable. If he had yelled at them or personally insulted them, I could kind of sympathize, (still, even then, it's a no-no) but he didn't. (And I'm not just saying that... my dad's totally not that bad to his employees. He just gave them his patented pissed-off-face-- which I've seen so many billions of times that it fails to register with me.)

But there is absolutely no reason to break down and cry when someone says "You did this wrong, now fix it". It makes you look weak, immature and unprofessional. Then it just fuels ignorant male chauvinism. They think we're too emotional to advance in the business world, in politics, and other professional fields. If you're going to break down and cry when anything minor and minute happens, you probably can't advance in any cut-throat fields (I can't imagine the emotional wreck Marc would be if he cried every time someone yelled at or insulted him.), but Jesus, you're making the rest of us look bad.

I'm not saying don't cry ever. Crying is human. People cry. But don't cry at work (of course, I'm not going to fault anyone who cries because of some family emergency or something major). Here is an idea... look your boss in the eye, apologize, and *gasp* fix your mistake.

Alito's wife should have kept it together. First of all, she was on television and her little break down was written about in a billion newspapers and blogs the next day. Have some restraint! Secondly, politics are rough. Her husband is attaining one of the most influential and important jobs possible in law. It's a high stakes position. She should have been prepared for some rude, unfair, and harsh criticism. It's part of the game. Just balls up and play it. There is a high pay-off. He didn't have to accept the nomination if he didn't want to be subject to cruel criticism.

A few weeks ago I wanted to cry at work. Wanted, being the operative word here. During lunch a guy came over to my grandparents house to clean the carpet, he tracked mud in, we had an altercation, it escalated, there was cursing, I was prepared the call the police...blablabla. I came back to work, then Scott called me and quasi-bitched me out. But did I cry? No. I qausi-apologized to Scott for whatever made him mad. Then, I went to the bathroom where I could have some privacy...and called him back and qausi-bitched out his voicemail. I wanted to cry. I really did. But I didn't... and after I was done restraining myself... I felt better. I didn't even have to go home and have a mental break-down.

--end rant--

I really want to start my own website in the near future. I want to expand beyond the narrow scope of a livejournal blog and grow into a mature adult. I mean, you can't "LJ" forever, but having your own website is acceptable at any age.

So all the domain names are taken. Imagine my dismay when I realized that philosophygirl.com is a fucking COSMETIC LINE. Ugh. Take anything intellectual, tag "girl" on the end, and it's suddenly, I don't know, make-up or tampons or glitter or pink jewlery.

I was also going to write about how women should never cry in public. Never, fucking, ever cry in public!! But I don't have time, so I'll save that rant for another day.

When I was a little girl, my mother warned me against the perils of pre-marital sex by saying, "Why buy the cow if you're getting the milk for free?"

Since then I have maintained my status: 22-year-old-virgin-extroidinarre, but have come to realize-- sex is not my "milk". Nobody wants to have sex with me.

Scott left me a message on my facebook that said he missed "telephone mental masturbation" with me--and I realized-- this is my milk. If someone wants to talk about politics or philosophy or how to reconstruct the government or morality and capitalism, I am right there. I'm an intellectual slut. I don't even have to know much about the subject; I will just listen and ask questions and argue. I like to sit back and become impressed with my array of genius friends and their wealth of knowledge.

(I'm not saying I'm a genius, so don't get up in my shizzy for being conceited. I'm just always up for any kind of challenging conversation. It's like that sorority girl that's always up for buttsex.)

So last night I was talking to Scott online and I told him I was going to withold. After all-- I'm fairly sure that intellectual conversations is the main, if not only, reason Scott and I never hooked up. (Can anyone think of another? No. I didn't think so.)

From now on, I'm withholding. I aint gonna talk smart wit no man till I see a ring on my finga!