Seasons may change

It has often been believed that some people never change. Unfortunately, it is usually those people that we hope will change the most. There is this guy, and for the sake of complete confidentiality and to tease my gossip girl obsession lets call him Chuck. I have known Chuck now for several years and he has always remained the same arrogant asshole since the day we met. But it is that inappropriate cockiness that lures you to him, it is what makes Chuck, Chuck, unfortunately. And now that Chuck is getting older and starting to mature my naive nature had hoped that he would adapt into a more kind, honest version of himself. The type of person I had always seen him to be over the years. However it is to no avail. It is as though I have been defending this Chuck who doesn't even really exist all these years. Saying to friends oh no he really isn't all that bad, if you take the chance to get to know him he can be really sweet. But the truth of the matter is people don't change no matter how badly we want them to.

An Ode to the Nutty Professor

The college professor. I have come to find them a strange breed of people in my recent excursion into the collegial world. Whether they be ridiculously old, impossible to understand or the dreaded harsh grader, college professor's have experienced a great deal of ridicule over the years. So I am taking the time rather to celebrate the college professor in all his or her awkward glory. To me a college professor is basically just a stand-up comedian without the microphone stand or bad polyestor suit. Think about it, they stand and talk in front of group of people hoping to generate an uproar of laughter and understanding during a "set" that usually ranges from thirty to 45 minutes. The ultimate goal of every college professor is to be seen as "cool" to a group of students who in most cases are 20, 30 or even 40 some years their minor. Often times, as a student, you find yourself giving the professor the courtesey laugh because you feel so uncomfortable in the silence after they told what you can only assume was a joke. There have been cases, however, where a professor has in fact been deemed funny and worthy of actual laughter but it is rare. So here's to you funny professor for making me laugh even at 9 something in the morning when I am my most vulnerable and hungover.

Cheating the System

The other day a guy in my class was talking about how he was in a "perfect" relationship. Nothing could shatter what he and his girlfriend had because they could equally and peacefully share starbursts. She liked the yellow and orange and he liked the pink and red. I like the pinks and yellows but that's beside the point. It seems something too simple to base a serious relationship on but it got me thinking...are relationships really just an opportunity to take advantage of the other person's stuff? Dating could be looked at more like shopping. You would pick out your mate based on their dvd collection or impressive amount of classic vinyl records rather than the person themselves. That might sound awful to say but give it a chance. It is a relationship with all the great stuff and none of the fuss. No emotional baggage or excessive drama just a simple act of tradesies and when its over you come out on top with the complete third season of The Office. Sounds like love to me.

Poetry. But not the mushy gushy love kind.

In my Creative Writing class we finally started the unit I have been dreading all quarter. The poetry unit. Now, I am no Shakespere, in fact my rhyming skills wouldn't even sell half-priced children's books. But in an attempt to be more vulnerable I am going to share with you what I came up with. For the first poem we were to write and describe an inaimate object and the second was about a time when I, or someone I know, met someone famous. So enjoy my attempt at being that dark beret wearing cool girl who snaps. So dramatic.

Fuck Me Pumps

Dark, smooth satin wrapped seductively around
a four-inch heel. The body draped in sequins.
They had complete sexiness. Total power.
Undeniable appeal and above all else
they gave way of complete vulnerability.

They appeared simple. Long narrow stilettos.
But to her they were something more. They had the
ability to transform her slender frame.
Change her into the woman she longed to be.
Glamorous and Dominant. Confident and Sexy.

She placed them tenderly on her feet and felt
their cool embrace against her skin, it frightened her
at first. Their power was overwhelming.
Her once 5 foot 7 inch form stood triumphantly
at a new height. Reflecting herself in the mirror
hoping tonight would be the night she had longer for.


Up Against the Ropes

He approached me like a strong gust of wind.
Powerful. Humbling. Strange. Unlike any I had seen
before. I hoped he could not see the fear
I tried to mask with excitement.
A monster, nearing half way of 7 feet
and what I could only image
to be 300 pounds. Hulk Hogan.
With a God-like disposition
he swallowed my hand in his own.
I felt powerless and afraid.
I heard the faintness of his soft voice speak.
The sound was slight and gentle like the
hum of a bird. He spoke with grace and
intelligence. I enjoyed to be
in his presence. Inspiring.
I know nothing of the sport. But he is
understanding. We keep each other's
company, neither wanting to leave.
Yet we part with niceties and go
our separate ways. Hulk Hogan. How Strange.

The Greatest Thing to come from Puerto Rico since Spiced Rum.

I sit next to this boy in my English class named Sebastien. (And yes, I do, on occasion, replace his head with one of a lobster. Don't pretend like you weren't thinking about it) Sebastian is terribly funny. Although it's hard to miss his Puerto Rican accent under his breath, he has Americanized himself quite well, with the use of pastel Abercrombie polos and a questionable amount of Axe cologne. His barely there 5 foot 4 inch frame only adds to his humor. Though he carries himself with confidence and is incredibly well spoken. We have conversations about feminism, racism, politics and war, and whether or not we were on Team Jen or Team Vince during the movie The Break Up. Basically I just wanted to take a little time to say thanks to Sebastian not only for making me realize how wonderful life is under the sea but for making me laugh at 9:40 in the morning. A difficult task at that.

With no parents around to tell us what to do.

Adulthood. A scary place encompassed by the grim reality that your dreams may never come true and happiness is something you have to work at. When your a kid happiness just happens. Responsibility doesn't exist and you are always taken care of. However when you are 19 you are stuck. To be cliche, that Britney Spears girl got it right, you're not a girl, youthful and innocent, but you are not a woman either. On TV and in film they always glamorize this world of adulthood as the absence of those parents of yours, those parents always around telling you exactly what you can and cannot do. Unfortunately I am not that girl who shares a love/hatred with her mother (whom, mind you, she becomes more like with each passing day) or that girl who feels abandoned by her father and thus un-loved by the entire male society. Rather I am that girl who was loved deeply by her parents. And kind of wishes they were here telling her what to do, planning her affairs, thinking her thoughts for her. I know that I have to grow up sometime. And I do want to one day be that independent woman sexy woman, living on her own, working and surviving. Proving to myself that adulthood isn't all that bad. That my dreams could one day come true and I could always have that childish relationship with my parents no matter how old i get.

My favorite time of day.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, roughly around 11 in the morning, I go on vacation. I find my seat next to an odd smelling homeless man and a power hungry business woman, and simply gaze out the window as the south-bound, brown-line train and I pirouette rhythmically through the second city. Acting as my own tour guide as we go soaring past the sites, (the Sears Tower, the Art Institute, the Bean) I am unfailingly amazed by this city, although it still remains the same city I saw just yesterday. The driver announces that we are making our descent to Library and Lake Street, where the current climate is, well windy of coarse. From a city bound expedition to a whole new world, I enter my Introduction to Islam class, where I travel to the middle eastern world, a world of religious exploration and a world of turmoil. For an hour and a half, I am surrounded by the ever growing Muslim community cerca 622 and my tour guide is the Prophet Mohamed himself. When the clock strikes 1:20 my glass slipper disappears and I am thrusted back into a city that smells of garbage and cigarettes. As I make my way back to the train station I notice that a bullish smile finds it way to my face with the simple reminder that I get to make this journey all over again next week.