A Little Too Close For Comfort...

I just took a personality test over at similarminds.com, and this was my personality trait snapshot:

craves attention, messy, open, rash, irritable, likes large parties, low self control, weird, fragile, does not like to be alone, emotionally sensitive, worrying, depressed, heart over mind, does not respect authority, dependent, not rule conscious, not good at saving money, more interested in relationships than intellectual pursuits, likes to fit in, very social, frequently second guesses self, phobic, suspicious, not careful, outgoing, vain, compassionate, aggressive, likes to make fun, hates to lose

A little too accurate, I think. I can take all that other stuff -- the "outgoing, vain, compassionate, phobic." Yeah, I think that's a pretty fair assessment of me and I don't have a problem with it.

But weird? I'm weird??? How weird? Michael Jackson weird, or Jackson Pollack weird?

A few minor changes

As you can see, I've redecorated. I got tired of the same orange and green day after day. I like the dots, but they might prove too distracting. I may change the Trants house around again and again, searching restlessly for the right combination of Funky, yet Easy on the Eyes. You'll let me know when I've found it, won't you? Oh, I'm sure you will.

In the meantime, let me tell you some news. In addition to "a-cing" (sorry, couldn't resist) my semester, I also received a suggestion from one of my professors. She liked the work I did in her class; she wants me to revise my major paper and submit it for publication to a scholarly journal. It will need an overhaul, but this can be done. And I'm going to go for it -- I mean, why wouldn't I? I'd planned on kicking ass in graduate school, and thus far, the ass has been kicked. Why not pull back my foot for a few more bruising slugs?

I have also decided to explore the possibility of National Certification, and I have a new story idea to research and write. This last would be significantly less complex than my Epic Adventure story; it's a fairly straightforward plot. Straightforward is good -- easier to write (I pray!). I'm also working on administrative tasks for Momma's business and playing hardcore tennis with my Scholar. The next round of classes start on the 31st. God, I love BUSY! This flurry of activity gives me so much energy, and I crave this kind of stimulation.

I live slightly to the south of the state of Mania, but I have friends and relations there that I visit often. You know who you are...

Graded

I got my grades for spring semester.

ALL A's!!!!

Go me! Go me! Go me!

(I'm not modest or anything)

Please don't shoot!

I have been threatened with bodily harm (as opposed to the other kind?) if I don't blog today. But I'm tired and sore from tennis yesterday, because we had this amazing volley of 67 returns and after that, I was whupped. No tennis today. Body cannot take it. I can blog, but that's about it.

Last night, I went over to the Spring Festival and met up with some sorority sisters. We fraternized (ha ha! Get it? Sorority sisters fraternizing? Pretty witty, ain't I?). One of my sisters has a relative in the rape crisis counseling vein, and she just started venting about what a crusader her sister is. "I'm sorry," she said, "but if a girl gets into a truck, takes her clothes off, and then tells the guy to stop, then maybe the rape isn't her fault, but she sure made some bad choices. And does anybody counsel her on how to stop making bad choices?"

This line of reasoning I have heard so often that it just makes me sigh now. I had plenty of well-rehearsed rejoinders, come-backs that might have shifted the paradigm a little, but you know what, sports fans?

I didn't have it in me to care.

I know how awful that sounds. I wish I could feel bad for it, but I don't. The honest truth is that people who look at you as an activist tend to discount any rational argument you could make. I read this great quote on one of the blogs I visit, and it said: "If someone didn't use logic or reason to form an opinion, you're not going to be able to use logic or reason to get them to change it."

I could have talked to her about counseling for pedophiles and rapists, which is damn near non-existant. I mean, getting into a truck might be a bad choice, and taking off one's clothes might be a bad choice, and so on, but I'm of the opinion that forcing someone to have sex with you when they have indicated that they no longer want to (or never wanted to at all) is the Mother of All Bad Choices. So maybe we should address that one first. Because the other way implies that there is only one person involved in a rape, or that rape is just something "out there," like cold or bubonic plague. That it's something smart girls protect themselves from, and stupid girls catch. With all this talk about the victim (on a variety of fronts, I might add), we're forgetting the significant half of the equation. If we didn't have rapists, we wouldn't have rape.

But I didn't say any of that. I've been tired of the talk for about three years now. I'm not so jaded that I'm giving up. I'm just not willing to sacrifice normal outings and conversations for my Cause anymore. I'm not willing to lecture my friends; they tend to avoid me after a while.

I'm tired. Did I mention that I'm tired? I'm not too proud to admit that I can't crusade for now. I hope the feminists will forgive me, but I've healed myself so much over the years that I can handle it if they don't. I now have Boundaries (a former supervisor of mine would be SO proud).

This is not to suggest that I'm out of the fight. I'm just resting.

I painted my toenails.

I just thought it would be so funny to have a title like this. "I painted my toenails" -- like anyone would care! Scholar says that blogs are for wanna-be writers who think other people are interested in the minute details of their lives.

He's right. I am a wanna-be writer, and I know other people are interested in the minute details of my life. I painted my toenails a shocking pink, because I bought cute sandals to wear. And I would never subject the general populace to bare, unpolished toenails.

So now I have cute sandals and a stirring pink pedicure. SUMMER IS HERE!

Tiny aside: I asked Scholar to paint my toenails for me, and he looked at me as though I had asked him to give me a bikini wax. I thought some guys were into the toenail thing. Apparently not my guy. He turned away in disgust, and I heard him muttering ere he fled: "Toenails. Yuck."

Oh well.