Insomniac's blog

Holy Shiii-Biscuits. Life is getting progressively busier. Not that it is too bad...actually, I like all the action and the stress that comes with it. Nita becomes a very good Nita when she lives off of nicotine and caffeine, and then she tends to refer to herself in the 3rd person. Scary, yes? That's rhetorical, you don't need to answer.

Anyhow, my new Interesting Male Friend (forever now known as IMF) and I have been busy planning schtuff for an honor's society that we are both members of. Plus, IMF is really a fantabulously nice guy and we share some interesting views on academic things. So, anyhow, we are busy planning movie nights at the ole GVSU, museum tours, graduate school info day, tours of local historic districts, and such things. We both find it lots of fun and a goo dway to do the so-called "networking" that is going to be valuable in our careers.

Next month starts the relly hectic time. I have two conferences, a special luncheon, an important steering committee meeting, movie night, museum tour, and possible a historic district tour to plan. Yes, very busy. In the meantime, I am helping Darling Husband with understanding his English composition homework and trying to coordinate my progeny's schedules and babysitters and the like. It IS good to be queen...even just for a day (I know, a little twist on Tom Petty lyrics...plus, I am showing my age again...there, I put the age away, you can look now).

Sometimes I wonder though, what all I miss by being so damn busy. I mean, I rarely stop to smell the proverbial rose but I do get pleasure from the smell of fresh brewing coffee. I eat some horrendously bad food. Take, for example, tonight's meal. I had some red wine with little taco snackee things and crackers with warm bree at a special function I went to. Then, I stopped in Grand Haven, Michigan, at Ray's Drive-In and grabbed a cheeseburger and fries and cole slaw. Not too healthy, eh? I'll be better next week. Granola bars and yogurt and water. Yeah...right.

Anyhows, life is back to hectic busy-ness and I prefer it that way. We'll see how I handle a much slower life come December when I officially graduate.

Why, oh why do people want to know about someone's life just so they can shoot them down? Today I was at the ole GVSU working on compiling my notes for my summer research project so I can write a halfway intelligent paper on it all. Anyhow, I happened to run across Professor Bizarro. No, I haven't posted about Professor Bizarro before. This guy is absolutely the strangest person I have ever met...both in appearance and demeanor. Anyhows, Professor Bizarro stopped me in the hallway and asked me when I was graduating. I told Professor Bizarro that I am graduating in December of this year. He then asked what my plans were for after graduation. I told him that I am planning on pursuing graduate school for history and I am applying at MSU and Western Michigan University. He proceeded to then go on a rant about how I won't be able to make it through grad school and that even if I did, no place would hire me because I went to a bad school. He was generous enough to say that I might be able to maybe, just maybe get a job teaching in a community college, but that would be about it. Mind you, I have never had Professor Bizarro as a professor for any of the classes I've taken, I've never worked with him on any committees, projects, or anything else. Never mind all of that though, because Professor Bizarro knows ALLLLLLLLLL. Welcome to PhD attitude.

Combine Professor Bizarro's unprofessional and rude behavior with what I heard about the academic profession from Professor New Guy yesterday and I have determined that almost all PhDs are just whiny, baby-ass, martyrs without an audience. Why, oh why, do most people who have the intellectual ability to accomplish great things end up being some of the most anti-social, disgusting, and pitiful human beings who roam this Earth? Why can't they just realize how fortunate they are? I mean, I have lived my entire life around people in much more desperate situations than these whiny PhDs and yet those people still manage to find some joy and pleasure in life. ARGHHHHHH!!!!

So, since I have mounted the Soapbox for my inaugural back-to-school rant, I want to say to all PhDs out there...QUIT YOUR COMPLAINING AND LEARN HOW TO BE A REAL PERSON! DO NOT ASK ME WHAT I AM GOING TO DO IF YOU JUST WANT TO STOMP ON ME!

And, since I am the bitch tonight, I will tell y'all what I am going to do...I am going to prove all these fucks wrong. Yep, I am going to go to grad school and get that PhD and not be like them and land a fantabulous position at Some Important University and do great work and publish amazing things and when people ask me about my experience at GVSU with certain faculty in the history department, I'll just say that martyrdom breeds contempt and contempt breeds misery and no one should be subject to a contemptuous, miserable martyr.

Thank God in glorious Heaven that I am almost done with GVSU!

It has been quite awhile since something has pissed me off enough to mount my soapbox and have at it. Being forewarned is being prepared, so here goes...

Last night I went to a rally in my hometown to protest the bill currently being debated in Congress concerning U.S. immigration--specifically in regards to illegal immigrants. The rally was quite a sight to behold. My hometown is 22% Mexican-Americans and the rest are a mixed bag of mostly Dutch and European ancestry. Anyhow, I went on down to the rally and I was amazed at what I saw. Several hundreds of Mexican-Americans gathered with a little more than a handful of "white" Americans and protested against the bill. It was an amazing night. I did feel a little out of place though since the speakers that were there only spoke in Spanish and I don't understand Spanish. However, I was struck when the crowd began singing different songs like De Colores. While I didn't know the songs, all the voices joining in unity was amazing. I wish I could have understood the meaning of the songs beforehand. I did meet a few younger people who were nice enough to translate a few things for me. At one point the crowd starting chanting something like "Se Sequira", at least that is what it sounded like. One of the ladies next to me told me that it meant "Yes, we can do it".

Being an outsider to the group last night gave me a fresh perspective on how hard it must be for immigrants in America. First of all, everyone here expects immigrants to be able to speak, read, and write in English. Secondly, many so-called patriots stereotype immigrants (especially Hispanic immigrants) as welfare recipients and burdens on our tax dollars, which isn't true. Thirdly, a lot of Americans like to blame immigrants for their own loss of jobs---never mind the effects of globalization, economic downturns, and the shift from an industrial manufacturing economy to a technology and service economy. My brief studies in American History has confirmed that Americans like to continually blame others for our problems. The Irish immigrants were blamed in the Antebellum era for the lack of jobs in urban environments, the Southern blacks were blamed later, the Asian immigrants were viewed as "foreigners" for too many years after their legal status, and after September 11, 2001, all Middle-Easterners were suspected of undermining the government and terrorizing U.S. citizens. Frankly, all the scapegoating by Americans onto certain ethnic and racial groups just really pisses me off! I mean, seriously, America is the country it is today because we have been an immigrant country. I think some of our so-called "patriots" and politicians need to remember what places like Ellis Island stood for.

Anyhow, I support open immigration and I urge other Americans who may be reading this to contact your Senators to tell them to vote against the new immigration bill.

Why is it that on every Valentine's Day all the perky, booby-bouncy gals at my school think they need a boyfriend or flowers or some other bullshit? I mean, come on! Have they never heard of the bra-burning advocates like Gloria Steinhem or Betty Friedan? I'm no uber-FemiNazi myself, but when women put themselves in docile, need-a-man positions, well, as a fellow woman I get a little perturbed. I had the pleasure of listening to a conversation on campus today between two young women. The one was almost bawling because she had no man to celebrate Valentine's Day with. Her friend was trying to console her and offered to take her out for dinner. I couldn't help but thinking that this young woman didn't need dinner, instead she needed a kick in her ass. Men do not define us, well at least not me...too much. I will admit that my Darling does have some say in my life but for the most part I call my own shots.

I decide what I am going to do and where I will go. If he wants to join along then, most times, he is welcome. There is no way I am going to sit idly by while he decides my life for me, and believe me, if he could make all of my life choices he would!

So anyhow, women, suck it up. Do not let yourselves be defined by men and what they do for you. I would encourage you to read this list of people and look them up on Wikipedia. There are strong women out there...be one of them.

Holy Schnit! I have spent the last little bit reading my own blog. Plyuuuuuck! I can't believe I wrote some of that dribble. Well, no more. Sometimes I wonder what possesses me to bleed my personal shit out onto this thing... Anyhow, no more "poor, poor pitiful me" schtuff. Instead, I will impress you all with some more of my caustic remarks on GVSU, its faculty and students. Take for example the other day when I was getting coffee at the Java City kiosk at Kirkhof. There were two girls, yes, I shall call them girls because they were acting like they were in 7th grade, and these two girls were so damn immature. It was embarassing to admit that they were the same sex as me. Anyhow, here are these two girls...whispering behind their hands to each other and giggling! Good gawd, please grow up. The worst thing is that I knew they were talking about me. I could tell from how one would look at me, quick whisper something to the other lifesize Barbie, and then look at me again. Not only was it rude, but totally uncalled for because I knew I was looking damn good. Perhaps they find it funny that a 30-year-old is actually taking classes. Or, perhaps it was because I added half-n-half to my coffee...who knows? No one can figure out these pop-tarts. You wonder where the term pop-tarts comes from? Well, y'all can thank my FOM for his most excellent analysis of bubble-headed women. Pop-tarts are sweet and pretty but just not very filling. Now me...I'm more like a steak, eggs, and hashbrowns breakfast than a pop-tart. I have substance and I am filling...perhaps a little too fattening and greasy but overall a much better breakfast. Is anyone getting a little hungry?

Sorry, that was kinda of perverse. Anyhow, I am over the "reflections" part of my life, well, at least for now.

No, this is not some posting about Star Wars...I'm not a sci-fi geek. The title refers to the evil empire of Starbuck's Coffee, a.k.a. Preppy Coffee for Those Who Have No Idea What Coffee Should Taste Like. I was at Meijer (the store that has everything from milk to all the supplies needed to make Crystal Meth) picking up some stuff for dinner and some personal items, and I got this insatiable need for coffee. Now, you must understand, I am totally and hopelessly addicted to coffee. I love coffee. Anyhow, I had the scrumps for a decent cup of coffee. My choices were as follows; either I could wait until I got home and brew up some home coffee or I could purchase a cup at Starbuck's in Meijer. Now this really cracks me up because there is a Starbuck's in Meijer and a Starbuck's stand-alone shop just within viewing as soon as you exit Meijer. Sheesh...it is like Starbuck's has taken over in my hometown. I used to go to The Buzz for coffee. The Buzz was this great little non-preppy coffee place just a half-mile or so from Meijer. I used to go there about once a week to work on homework and suck down some really good on-tap coffee (on-tap refers to regular coffee and not those foo-foo coffee drinks). But, The Buzz closed down a few weeks ago because it couldn't compete with the Evil Starbuck's.

Where was I? Oh yes, scumping for coffee. Anyhow, I decided to once again give Starbuck's the benefit of doubt and try something there. I ordered a Latte, which is unusual for me since I normally drink on-tap coffee. Well, after I shelled out my $3.13 for a small latte, I tried a sip. Ughhh! It was warm, that is about the only positive thing I can say about it. The coffee was weak and the milk used to froth it up had a strange flavor to it. But the Dutch in me came out and I figured that since I paid so much for it I would just drink the damn thing.

I really do not know why people go so nuts for Starbuck's. I do not like their coffee. It either tastes burnt or tastes too weak. And you pay way too much for it. I once saw on television that the most expensive coffee sells for over fifty dollars a cup. The reason why it is so expensive is because of its special processing. I guess the way it is processed is that some sort of cat eats the coffee beans and then poops them out. The beans are collected from the cat-poo and then used to make coffee. Now don't get me wrong, I do love coffee, but there is no way I am going to drink something that a cat pooped out. Maybe Folger's or Maxwell House isn't so bad after all?

Anyhow, maybe Starbuck's gets their coffee from the cat-poo bean growers and that is why it is so expensive. I know that I will not be giving Starbuck's another chance to ruin coffee for me.

Man, I feel like a total ass after the last post about how my family always celebrates Thanksgiving together and how much we are there for each other. This Thanksgiving at my parents' house consisted of just me and my family, my one brother and his new girlfriend and their baby, and then a friend of her's and her children. My other two brothers who live nearby pulled a bitch. That's right...they boycotted Thanksgiving at my parents'! My oldest brother rarely comes to special family events because he lives in Tennessee and just can not come up all the time, which is understandable. But, the other two are just being asses. I think part of the porblem is because the youngest of my brother's new girlfriend is Mexican...straight from Mexico Mexican. She speaks choppy English and is a very nice woman, but she is Mexican and my other two brothers are a bit prejudiced against bi-racial or bi-ethnic relationships. So, neither of those two have seen their new nephew yet either. Just fucking pisses me off beyond all belief! How dare they get up on their high horses and act all better than her just because they are white. ARGHHHH! If I was bigger I would kick both their asses.

Okay...I think I am calmed down a bit. The other reason why I think they are being ass biscuits is because of their jealousy. You see, my three oldest brothers are actually my half brothers from my mom's first marriage. When my mom married my dad he agreed to raise them as his boys since their father was basically worthless as a parent. Anyhow, my dad did raise them as his own and they all call my dad "Dad". As a matter of fact, my middle brother is the closest with my dad. Anyhow, lately the two who live in Michigan keep saying things like, "Maybe we shouldn't get all together for the holidays" and that "Mom and Dad's house is too small for all of us" and "We would like to have our own holiday too". Granted, Mom and Dad's house is too small but we could rent a hall or have it at my house since my house is much larger, but no, they would rather not go. Ass biscuits. I think they are jealous that the youngest brother and I are Dad's, but how in the hell could we control that?!

I'm just angry that they would boycott Mom's good Thanksgiving dinner because of their jealousy, prejudism, and because of their supposed need to have their own holiday. It is not like we spend all that much time together anyway, so what does it hurt to spend a few hours together every November? Oh well. What am I gonna do? I can't force them to be part of the family when they don't think they want to be. I'll still be there for them though. I can get angry at them but, after all, they are my family even if they don't act like it.

Alright, perhaps I'm getting too pissy in my old age, but today someone told my friend that I was high maintenance. ME?! High maintenance?! I am gung-ho about things. If someone tells me they are going to do something, well naturally I expect it to get done. So if someone drags their ass after they said straight to my face that they will get something done, well then excuse the hell out of me for being high maintenance because I want it done. I swear sometimes that people really tend to exaggerate things. Ah well, what's a bitchy old woman supposed to do? Nothing. I feel like, whatever...I'll just hang back and be a boring shit like everyone else. No more high maintenance accusations for me. I'll just pretend like I don't give a fuck about anything anymore, just like everyone else.

Ya know, I just re-read what I typed and I realize that perhaps I am high maintenance, but I really don't care. Why in the world should I change my personality just because some people are rubbed wrong by it? The majority of those who know me don't seem to mind my tendencies to be a little loud, opinionated, bawdy, vulgar, and cranked out on coffee and cigarettes. I think it just comes down to the fact that I don't play well in the sandbox with the other kids. In other words, team player is a name no one would ever give me. Hmmmm. It is interesting to know what others think about me though...

I swear to gawd...the next man you refers to me as a "girl" or tries to placate me in a sexist way is going to get my bra wrapped around his neck several times and then I will light it on fire. Arghhh! Now normally I am not too feminazi-ish. I don't mind if a man opens the door for me or acts in other gallant ways, but when a man panders to me just because of the package under my drawers...well, let me just say that I get beyond irritated. In the last few days I've heard men in upper-level positions refer to me and my sisters as "girls". One "boy" even said that men are better writers than girls and implied that girls are better at organizing material than men. I had another supposedly professional man try to placate me with what he probably assumed was a smooth voice and attempted to belittle what intelligence I do have. Arghhh again!

Why is it that in the wonderful world of academia you get these types of men? Why is it that men think just because I have a bra and for a few days a month stick a maxi-pad in my panties that I am somehow less mentally capable than they are? I have never suffered from hysterics or from other "female" maladies. I am an excellent student who does not need to have my grades slanted because of my gender, which by the way happens way too often at my university. Gender-biased grading pisses me off beyond belief. Like just because I can write a lucid and concise paper I am somehow an unusual woman. I will admit though, that there are profs at my school who do not gender-bias their grading and who treat women with the respect and decency that they show their male students. But every once in awhile I run into one of these misogynistic professors and professionals and I am always amazed at what dribble comes out of their mouths.

And, since I am on a rant, why is it that ambitious women are thought of as bitches while ambitious men are go-getters and praised for their initiative? Can you tell I had a most miserable night at school? The most placating, asinine, and insulting man was in charge of the lecture and I can not stand him. He pisses me off and he actually had the nerve to call me out just because I glanced up at the clock during his lecture. I had a good reason for it...I had to make an important phone call and I couldn't call past 8:30pm. Ass-biscuit instructor made some smart-ass reference to me having to go to the bathroom and attempted to embarrass me in front of the rest of the class.

Anyhow, male-chauvanists are really grating on my nerves lately. And no, I don't have PMS right now...just some pride in my own abilities and the audacity to be angry when someone insults me because I don't have a penis.

Darling Husband gave me some money tonight to buy myself a few things. He makes the money so in order for me to spend it on myself I need to wait until he is in a giving-sorta-mood. Anyhow, I went and dumped some major bucks (well, maybe not major for some, but for me it seemed like a lot). I went shopping at the Eddie Bauer Outlet and The Gap Outlet. Yes, I am an outlet shopper because I can't afford the normal store prices. I bought a pair of jeans, a black pair of chinos, and khaki pair of chinos, a dark blue jean skirt, a sorta gold colored skirt that is dressier, a fern green V-neck sweater, an orange long-sleeved T-shirt, a new pair of black dress shoes, a black newsboy hat, and a brick red polo-style shirt. Oh, and also two comfy weekend style pants. Yes...lots of shopping.

After all this glorious clothes-trying-on in those too small and too bright fitting rooms, I decided to go to WalMart. I love WalMart...and I know it is a redneck thing to admit, but I do love it. I simply had to have a new bra. All of my bras are getting all stretched out and sloppy feeling. Nothing is worse than feeling like your boobs are about to flop out at any given moment. Anyhow, I picked out about twelve bras to try on--all different makes and models. After trying on bra number three I began to get pretty pissy. I swear, I think men design bras. Only one of the blasted things fit decently. With the rest either my boobs were squishing out or were in danger of being forcibly pushed into my chin. NOT comfortable. Plus, I can not buy cute or dainty bras. Some of the women who read this know what I mean. Any woman bigger than a 36C can not find any bras that don't have 37 hooks in the back and uber-wide bra straps. Because I am, shall I say well-endowed, I have to get the granny-style bras. Yep, that's right. You may know what I am talking about...the kind with at least four hooks, gaudy lace, gel-straps, and a little bow in the cleavage area. Ughhhhh! I just wanted your basic bra. No embellishments, no fancy crap, no special features for the fuller-figured woman...just a plain comfortable bra. Is that too much to ask for??!!! Apparently so. I ended up getting a white bra with some minor embellishments and a stupid little flower in the cleavage area. I'll cut the flower off later. At least I didn't have to buy an underwire. Underwire bras are a curse from hell. I detest the dreaded underwire. It is absolutely miserable to wear. The thing has wire in it...imagine how that feels cutting into your soft flesh?! But underwire is supposed to lift and seperate...hah! More like gouge and poke. Horrible things.

Oh well. I did get one bra. Too bad I had to spend 45 minutes searching the racks to find what I hoped would be the right size and another 15 minutes trying on the wretched things. Too bad I am too big to go bra-less. Damn A-cuppers. I'm jealous. As a friend of mine said, "Those who don't have big ones want them and those who do have big ones, don't."