Finding Myself OMG: A Bullshit Quest

Well, where do I start? I'm struggling, I suppose, to find out who I am outside of who my parents want me to be, who my friends want me to be, or who my own perfectionist tendencies (totally personified) want me to be. I don't know if this blog will really document my progress in, ahem, coming of age, or if it will just basically be a place for me to vent and blab about nothing. We shall see.

Monday, May 22, 2006

You need some wine with that.

I'm attempting to read Roland Barthes for my English class. (I'm taking a summer comp course, which just started today). It's, um, well, interesting I suppose. It's my first experience with his writings, and he's a trip.

I'm pretty excited about the class. It's not as boring as I thought it would be (damn gen ed requirements) because I have a really cool prof. I had him before for this college intro class all freshman have to take. He's crazy, fun, but also interesting and I think I'll learn something.

This Barthes, though? Wow. I just don't think it's to my taste. *bangs head against wall* I'm at my aunt's house (my mom and I are sleeping over to keep my grandma company while my aunt and uncle are away) and I've broken into the white zinfandel, which is kind of helping with the homework.

My dog is with us, which is interesting, because my aunt and uncle have this cat. It's a black and orange fat, deaf cat with six toes on every paw. And it's HUGE. My dog is a little terrier mix (Jack Russell, chihuahua, pomeranian, and pappilion) and the cat is about twice as big as Cordelia is. I don't think the cat has a name, either. It just kind of showed up at my aunt's house one day and moved in. Anyway, poor Cordy keeps trying to play with the cat, unsuccessfully. She'll approach it slowly, start wagging her tail and making little squeaky noises, and the cat will stand up with it's back hunched (like the pictures of black cats on Halloween--- I didn't know cats really did that!) and hiss and bear its teeth and claws. But Cordelia keeps trying to play anyway. Some people's children, they just never learn.

Well, I must go back to the Barthes now. And make sure the cat doesn't kill the dog. Isn't it usually the other way around?




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