First of all, here’s a picture of a woman laughing happily with a bowl of salad:Embed from Getty Images
There is a whole blog dedicated to pictures like this, and it has made my life so much more fulfilling.
Second, It’s been a week since I last wrote anything. Let me catch you up:
The Sociology Debacle. At the beginning of the semester, my sociology professor started calling me Brianna. At first, I thought that this was just a simple mistake. I politely corrected her. She responded by yelling “TIANA?” at the top of her lungs, as though speaking louder would help her understand me better. Feeling awkward, I decided to just nod and let it go. From that day forward, I was known in my sociology class as Tiana. There were a couple occasions when I wanted to speak out and tell them that a mistake had been made, but I was in too deep: A month had already gone by without me saying anything- several people had entered my name into their phones as Tiana! It would have made the situation even more uncomfortable if I had tried to fix the problem so late in the game. So, once more, I decided to let it go.
Fast forward to yesterday: MY SOCIOLOGY TEACHER TOLD ME (IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE CLASS) THAT IT HAD ALL BEEN AN EXPERIMENT. She’d wanted to see how long it would take me to correct her. Apparently, most people don’t last more than two weeks. Everyone in my class stared at me, their faces a mixture of confusion and resentment. I averted my eyes, instead choosing to stare at my worksheet…at the top of which ‘Tiana’ was written in cursive. I HATE MYSELF.
I got into a feminist brawl! Okay, not really, but I did exchange some choice words with a horrible boy in my writing group named Chris. He kept complaining about how there are so many girls in my class and how all of our writing is so feminine. All of this culminated in him sharing a poem with the group that was literally about BEING SURROUNDED BY HORRIBLE WOMEN AND HOW THEY ARE CRUSHING HIS ARTISTIC SPIRIT WITH THEIR VAGINAS. That was the final straw: His poem was so poorly written that I found it impossible to believe that he had ever been a competent poet, even before he joined our class (and this is coming from a person who can barely write poetry herself). In a fit of righteous indignation, I took his critique sheet and wrote out a glorious feminist manifesto, rebuking him for the things that he had said and explaining, in extreme detail, what was wrong with his writing. It was all very exhilarating. When Chris looked down at his sheet his face twisted in shock. I suppose he hadn’t expected the girl who spends most of her time eating grapes silently in the corner to call him out. Who could blame him? I felt a little bit bad afterwards, but the feeling quickly passed. After all, when it comes to misogynists, you must BURN ALL THE BRIDGES.
Snakes in the house. The other day, I was sitting in my aunt’s house when I noticed a snake in the corner of the room. This event didn’t really surprise me: my aunt lives right next to a lake/swamp thing, so it’s not uncommon for a snake to sneak into her house every now and then.
“Hey,” I called out to my aunt, trying to stay calm, “Snake.”
MADNESS ERUPTED ALL AROUND ME.
My aunt began screaming and flailing her arms wildly. She accidentally dropped some dishes onto the floor and they shattered into a thousand pieces. In response to the sudden chaos, her dog started howling; that, in turn, startled the snake, causing it to quickly slither into the bathroom. I watched all of this in mild amusement…until my aunt informed me that she wanted me to catch the snake and cary it outside. The whole process took an hour and a half and caused the destruction of the bathroom, due to my ineptitude in the field of snake wrangling. Many tears were shed.
Welp, that’s it. I guess you didn’t miss much.