Yes, we know this is the second whitest state in the country (yup second, Maine is the first), and yes we know that here (like everywhere else), racism exists. Yes, we know that we appear homogenous and sheltered, and maybe we mostly are. We know that we have no "ghettos" and we will never, ever have decent fashion (heels don't go well with mud).
However, if you would look past the college-student dominated Burlington (cough, out of staters, cough), and past the "rustic" farm houses and dirt(mud)-roads, past the dainty white houses and covered bridges, past the summer houses on lake champlain and past the yuppie mansions in the middle of cleared fields, you might notice that we are not as "sheltered" from the world as you like to think.
Vermont experiences all the same problems as other states, just on a different scale and in different proportion. And if you couldn't even find our state on a map before you moved out of your amazing city, maybe you're the one who's sheltered.
Love, Vermont
This has been such a resentful week, hasn't it? My next entry will be more light-hearted.
In other news (while I wait for dry, clean clothes), people are as annoying as ever. I was sitting in class today listening to someone struggling to formulate words to answer a question and I was overwhelmed with a feeling of gratefulness that my dear father always demanded "terse yet lucid sentences," and always only as few as possible to get a point across (ok, so I didn't quite master that art). But really, it's so annoying to listen to these kids try to spit out these sentences like they're a bad taste in their mouth. That, combined with awkward, unnecessary pauses and absolutely no rhythm or pacing to their speech. Plus a little stuttering here and there for dramatic effect. Learn to speak kids! And more importantly, think before you speak... It's almost like a Brecht style, it's so uncomfortable to listen to that you have to focus on the words and meaning to stay focused, because you sure as hell won't enjoy the delivery. Although, the contrast is that the kids who actually can formulate sentences naturally are absolutely refreshing. Okay... now that I've bashed all my peers once again, I can sleep soundly... In the sheets that wouldn't fit in the wash this time... Ew.
Despite all my work, the dreary raininess that was yesterday allowed me a whole day of nothing! Well.. I shouldn't say nothing, I ate breakfast downtown with the chicas, bought a fabulous pair of $20 pants, and watched tv all day. Lovely.
The low-key ending to that low-key landed me at the front desk where I was on-duty for the night, watching costumes galore drunkenly wander off in search of frats and jello shots. Good times. There were some good costumes (a banana, tasteful Greek goddesses, french fries, sailors, etc etc) and some.... not so good. One kid walked by in a middle-eastern style out fit (clearly store bought), with a fake machine gun and amo over his shoulder... As he walked by, he said to his friend "I feel so racist right now...." Probably because you are, so take off the costume idiot... Anyways, there was a lot less of that kind of offensive, and a lot more of the "you'll feel violated just looking at me" offensive. In an environment where every themed party is some rhyming version of "pimps and hoes" (eg. C.E.O's and secretary hoes, etc etc), Slutoween is the king of them all! Pretty much, the idea is to take any respectable position a woman can hold and completely tear it to shreds by making it "the hot version." Reinforcing the stereotype that, if you're at the top, you either slept your way up or you're a total bitch. Because there's no other possible option.... It's not like women can actually be smart and cunning and professional... Nope, on the inside, all women are coniving and promiscuous.... Yea not so much. Those stupid boys will learn (probably too late) that the women worth getting to know are the ones you actually have to get to know, and those stupid girls will learn that getting respect starts with repsecting yourself. I sound like a public service commercial or something, and I'm sure my dear old friend Anne would say "shut up R.A.," but whatevah, I'm right.
Assignment: read 50 pages and write a 500 word reflection on those pages.
Ten minutes later.... Done!
P.S.:The Red Sox won. Cool. But come on UVM... this isn't Boston, so sshhhuuusssshhhhh.
So why all that help during high school? Was it because I was raised in a society where it is expected that girls will ask for help on math? Or is it because I was lazy?... I admit it was the latter, although I rely heavily on the former to explain the ease with which I sought help.
I have discovered this year (as I have known all along), that if I take the time to actually look up the things I have questions about, I can figure them out on my own. The only reason I have time for that now is because I have eliminated the concept of "bedtime" from my brain. However, as there is a time for looking up answers... there is also a time for calling it quits. As fun as math is, and as much as I love studying for it, there must be an end, because: 1) you should always leave room for improvment, no one likes 100%'s and 2) you wouldn't want to spoil the thrill of discovering how much you can actually figure out without studying...
Math is interesting because I think that by being so boring, it actually inspires more creativity. People draw the most fabulous doodles during boring classes like math. I've rediscovered this old pasttime, first as a means to keep me awake (it's the only thing that works) and second, to enhance my abilities to communicate facial expressions through drawing. (Don't worry parents, I'm paying attention, you're not paying for me to draw during class).