[in]Decision 2008.

This is certainly a poor time to be a Republican; no matter, I remain by my fellow elephants.
I'm currently uncommitted to any particular candidate. My indecisiveness of course extends from the country's lack of support of the Republican party; but my fierce unrelenting Republican support stems from the fact that I refuse to accept the idea of a power-hungry bitch or a black supremacist as my next president. Yes, this is certainly a somber time for my party.

Anyway, I didn't write this to criticize the Democratic party or it's candidates. I just want to share a video of Mike Huckabee, which finally gave me some hope that there are some politicians [or at least one] who doesn't'/don't avoid the issue of God. The following video concerns evolution; I applaud you, Mike Huckabee:

Emotion is Dead, Pt. 1

Before anyone can criticize; yes, I realize this entry title is completely unoriginal. It just happens to be the song I'm listening to, from the album Emotion is Dead by The Juliana Theory**. Which is, if I might be so bold as to say [and i will be, because this is my blog], an extremely ironic title for an album/song from a band whose music stems from raw emotion. In fact mentioning the band The Juliana Theory in conversation immediately sends up a red, er..black, emo flag. No, I don't use the term "emo" negatively, in fact I don't quite understand where it has received such a negative connotation. If we could really sit down and decide was "emo" is, exactly, the word is EMOTIONAL. Now, I'm not sure if you've noticed [and since you're reading this, you probably have] I'm quite an emotional person.
Does this make me emo?
My favorite color is black.
Does this make me emo?
I cry. [yes, that is normal.]
Does this make me emo?
I'd like for anyone who reads this to go listen to the song Emotion is Dead, Pt. 1 by The Juliana Theory. Even if you completely despise alternative music and would rather slit your wrists than listen to anything stemming from emotion, just give it a listen. Listen, and then and only then, if you can tell me that you believe these musicians have absolutely no talent for musical transcription and composition, I will respect your discountenance.
I believe this is one of the most beautifully written, and disregarded, songs I've ever heard.

Anyways,
Enough about The Juliana Theory.
I really don't have anything specific to talk about tonight; which is perhaps why I just went off on one of my usual rants regarding TJT. I just felt the need to let off some steam via the internet blog-o-sphere. It's slightly pathetic, is it not? That we have to vent our thoughts and emotions through the internet? I can offer two predominant reasons as to why I spend more time ranting on the internet than speaking, face to face, about my beliefs.
A. Most of my friends find my interests and ideas too complex. It is very rare that I meet someone who I truly feel like I can talk to on an intellectual level. I have a broad spectrum of ideas stemming from virtually all subjects, and I could count on one hand the number of people whom I actually find myself having intellectual conversations with on a, somewhat, regular basis.
Literally;
i. my mother
ii. my grandmother
iii. my cousin; michelle
iv. tom collins
v. shaun sharma
there you have them. my intellectual [friends].
B. There are very few people who inhabit my safe-haven of person's i entrust with my raw emotion and feelings. Fewer than my list of intellectuals. In fact there are only two; my mother and my God. This doesn't leave a lot of room for me to open up to others. I'm not trying to suggest that I am going to openly display my every emotion on this blog; however, it is definitely easier for me to open up to a faceless, nameless object who does not embody the ability to judge.

Should I conclude this all now?
I. The Juliana Theory is brilliant.
II. This blog is my emotional outlet.

That's all for now.
Have a glorious evening.



[**there you go copyright enforcers. i give credit where credit is due.]

Heart-Shaped Nourishment

Well, seeing as I haven't posted anything relating to my love life, or lack thereof rather, I guess I should give some insight before entering my latest rant.
I'm currently on a break from love. Well, from relationships or any involvement with members of the opposite sex. [no, this doesn't mean I'm a lesbian.] In short, I've sworn off men for an uncertain amount of time, because i no longer believe I have the strength left in my heart to sustain further injury. Now that I've given small insight into my personal beliefs in regard to my heart, I'll begin my story.
Saturday night I wanted nothing more than to spend an evening with my girls. Mish, Vannah and I headed to Johnny Carino's for some girl time and Italian cuisine. I ordered one of the few low-fat items on the menu which I viewed as appetizing, which [though the name escapes me] consisted of a grilled chicken breast, green beans and a small amount of spaghetti. Upon receiving my meal, and in the midst of yet another conversation about how we despise the male species [yes, i consider them a species; one far below the rate of evolution of females], I stared in disbelief at the informal representation of love that was my chicken breast. I was so astounded that I stopped to take a picture.
So, as only I saw fit; i solved this problem in the best way possible.
That's correct, I cut it in half.
There you have it;
my heart.

Congratulations, Theo.. I'm an idiot.

I like to consider myself very open-minded and unprejudiced. Well, today, Theo proved me wrong.
In the midst of a conversation about how we both enjoy meeting persons of the opposite sex whom are intelligent as, or more than, us, Theo threw in an anecdote about a riddle which a college professor had once asked during class.
"A man and his son went out for a drive one afternoon. They got involved in a serious wreck. Two ambulances came. The father was taken to one hospital. The son taken to another. When the son was brought into the emergency room, the doctor looked down and said, "I can't operate on him! He's my son!!"

How is this possible?
My first response was, "It's his step-son."
wrong.
My second [and a bit more creative] was, "One of the father's is a transexual."
obviously wrong.
I sat, annoyed and brooding, about the answer to this question, having no idea that I was currently proving that I am sexist.
The doctor was his mother.

The thought never even crossed my mind. Why doesn't it enter our thoughts that the doctor could potentially be a woman? I guess I lied; I'm sexist. But aren't we all?
Congratulations, Theo my dear, you've successfully made me feel like an imbecile. Though I do appreciate you opening the door to my mind a half inch wider.
Thanks.

My vivacity stems from hope.. and poetry.

Well, this will be my first entry. I could begin with a description of myself, but I wont. If you actually take the time to read my blogs you should obtain some idea of my character, without all the messy details of an in-depth description of my every feature and flaw.

I was driven to write this post because I've just realized how perfectly I correspond with my major, English. This evening I was reading/researching a famous Victorian poet by the name of Gerard Manley Hopkins. At first I found his fabricated words and phrases to be annoyingly hard to follow. I literally complained for around two hours about how much I despised this poet. I was, once again, revisiting the poem [Carrion Comfort] and upon reading the third stanza the meaning and motivation behind it finally became clear. I was completely astonished at the profound connotation of this poem. Basically, the English major in me truly shone its colors as I stared blankly in bewilderment at the pages of my Victorian Period book.

Basically, I think this man, whom I considered two hours ago to be a complete imbecile, is one of the most brilliant writers of his time. If you are interested in the Victorian era and it's poetry, I highly recommend the works of Gerard Manley Hopkins*.

*keep in mind, without an open one you wont understand his philosophy.