So when I say “man…today was one of those days”, you should know by now that my rough/weird days are about a bajilliothousand rougher and/or, but probably and, weirder than the average human’s rough/weird days.
Hold on one sec-I hope the ridiculously loud woman with the horrifying bleach job is enjoying reading this blog entry over my shoulder as I type it in the computer lab. I can see you reading as I type these very words. Ha, goodbye, go yell in another designated quiet area please.
Ok, back to business.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006:
- Woke up late at precisely 8:43 after 2 hours of sleep. I can feel my eyeballs getting ready to strike as I head to the bathroom (i.e. where the Dreaded Hard Contact Lenses live. Now, right here as I am writing this sentence is when I come to the realization that there’s no cute little saying for green eyes. If you have blue eyes you can call them “baby-blues” and not repeat the word eyeballs again. Or if you have dark eyes you can pun it out, something like “wow, those plastic torture devices sure make my brown eyes blue” which would be so very clever and witty and, I’m going to come right out and say it, charming. What do I say about my eyes? This hardly seems fair, it’s not even like they’re hazel, the bastard child of the iris color spectrum. Sorry, it’s true. You’re either brown or green; pick a side, Switzerland. Ok before I get hate mail from a bunch of murky-eyed people, just know that this is coming from a place of extreme frustration. Today has not been good. Just blink back those tears and know that I love you-besides, I know my eyes always look even greener when they’re bloodshot from crying, so I just did you a favor. You’re welcome!).
-Switch on TV (the one in my bedroom is literally always tuned to CNN. Seriously, I don’t even know where the remote is, there’s no use for it. I know when I wake up it’s Miles and Soledad, when I get home from class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Wolf is signing off and Lou “The Bush Administration Is Going To Literally Give Me A Heart-Attack If I Don’t Calm Down And Move To A Secluded Beach Away From Wire-Taps And Arab-Owned Ports And Not-So-Sharp-Shootin’ VP’s As Soon As Physically Possible” Dobbs is coming on to raise his blood-pressure just a little bit more.). The CNN morning show is live from New Orleans. Within exactly 8 minutes of waking up I am seeing Soledad O’Brien ALONE with only a camera man on Bourbon Street, being accosted by people who are still out from the night before, never, EVER a good thing, and who are still drunk and have absolutely zero interest in the, and I swear to God this is fact, strands of green Mardi Gras beads with big white plastic disks that say “CNN” on them, that Soledad is trying to hand out. Lady, these people need two things right now: a place to throw up and a damn FEMA trailer. They don’t want your effing beads. But apparently they DO also want to show their asses on national television, which is what one winner does as he practically pushes Soledad over as he clamors to get in front of her to PULL HIS PANTS DOWN, which he succeeds in doing as Soledad just stares open-mouthed, clutching her precious “CNNecklaces”-patent pending, witness that this is mine, ya’ll. And for some reason which I’m still unclear about, the camera guy doesn’t. Change. Shots. He just lingers on this image of Soledad O’Brien on screen with a drunk man’s nether-region. Perhaps this camera man knew how much Americans like to view the ass of a stranger before their morning coffee. Or maybe he’s aware of some kind of FCC code that grants immunity from decency standards if your city is practically wiped off the face of the earth and you get no help from the government and there are dead people floating in the streets, but everyone forgets about you for months until a holiday rolls around where Snoop Dogg can show up and video-tape women exposing themselves for plastic jewelry that we were all given as kids to play dress-up with and we didn’t need to exchange our dignity for them. But who’s to say.
I had to shut off this broadcast for the record books and dash out to class just as Miles O’Brien said, referring to a man who had left Louisiana after Katrina but returned for the Zulu parade that he had attended every year since it began, “Wow, that’s really wonderful; he lost his house, but he still has the same spot to watch the parade that he’s had for years. That’s terrific.”
-Realized I might be the only ethical person in my media ethics class. It looks like in ten years my classmates will all be rich and successful and soul-less, and I’LL be the one shivering on the street corner with a Welfare check. But I’ll have my ethics and morals to keep me warm, so…I think we know who wins.
-Watched a video on small-pox AGAIN. Started scratching forearms violently AGAIN. Cursed myself for taking a class entitled “Plagues, Viruses, and Diseases” after I’d given up the good anti-anxiety meds. AGAIN.
-Had what had to have been one of the top five worst experiences of my life in my Bio-anthropology class. We had to watch 20 minutes of raw footage taken by primatologists and do a lab about it. What was the video of? Oh, you know, chimpanzees…..HUNTING, KILLING, AND EATING MONKEYS.
OH MY GOD I AM SERIOUS DID YOU KNOW THEY DID THIS?! AND IF SO WHY DIDN’T ANYONE WARN ME??! Oh GOD, I am still shook up about it, I am reliving it right now. It was seriously the worst thing I have ever witnessed-when they are hunting there’s this terrible, sickening screaming sound coming from the monkeys and this violent chase through the trees. And once they caught them…well, I won’t tell you how they killed them , because I know I’m traumatized by it, and I wouldn’t want to inflict any of this anguish on you, my friends. Except to say that they grip the monkey’s neck and suffocate it by putting the monkey’s entire head into their mouth, so the body is thrashing about until it finally just dangles there lifeless as the chimp descends the tree. Or sometimes they just, you know, start eating it alive. I don’t even feel bad about telling you that; I had to view it and I will never be the same again. For real. I don’t quote Mr. Henley as often as I should, but this truly was “the end, this is the end of the innocence”. And while we’re on the subject of prolific song lyrics, I always thought “Loser” by Beck was just crazy gibberish, until the first line popped into my head as I watched this massacre: “In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey.” GOD, Beck, I so get it. NOW I understand. If there are chimpanzees around…YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE A MONKEY YOU GUYS. Plus it was shot on a hand-held camera that was shaking and kept getting dropped like crazy. “Blair Witch Primate”. THE WORST THING EVER.
I’m off to my last class right now, and I am HOPING the weirdness of this day stops now, because really, I’ve paid my dues. We’re doing Dylan in Rock History. Thank the sweet, sweet Lord. Awww, “My Sweet Lord”…George Harrison…Beatles class. Every blog entry comes right back to the Beatles, even if it began with monkeys being eaten and Soledad O’Brien sharing airwaves with a guy’s ass.
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