You Know Times Are Tough When...

Jay & I saw this in a parking lot in Raleigh yesterday:

Hurricane Ike has knocked out one of the oil reserves that services the Southeastern U.S., so some gas stations are shut down while others have raised the prices higher than New York prices and set a $40 limit per trip.

But to have to sell your Hummer and advertise it in a parking lot? Now I know just how tough times are...

Adventures in Spyware!

Spyware sucks. I got a nasty case of it last night right before Lost started & spent all freaking night trying to get rid of it, including buying some stupid program that Anthony recommended with money I definitely do not have (grrrr). Nothing's working and I keep getting lovely pop-ups (I think my first thought this morning was, "Wow that girl has to have A LOT of space in her mouth to fit that. Somebody get me some popcorn and a notebook...") and lots of great security warnings, all of which are a part of the virus. [Actually, given the explicit nature of some of these pop-ups, I was wondering if the Trojan virus that has infected my computer is not actually named after the famous horse but rather named for the contraceptive. Because I'm sure that my computer would definitely be rockin' some herpes or the clap by now.]

All my passwords have been changed on another computer; cookies, Internet history, cache, etc. have been deleted. I had to drive all the way back to Astoria from the 'rents house on Long Island tonight so I can meet up with Anthony on the Upper West Side at 9-freaking-am so he can completely restore my entire system. I think the only person happy about this is Jay since he's been begging me to let him do that to this piece of shit Dell that doesn't even get sound anymore (thanks Cal for making me bring my laptop into the office every single day for an entire year but getting everyone else laptops for work!). Meh I want a Macbook.

Soooo I may or may not have a computer ever again, depending on if Anthony is as good as he says he is. Everyone please pray that he's as good as he says he is or I'm going to freak out just a little bit.

Oh on a side note - if you're going to create Spyware, may I suggest 1) to go fuck yourself & then let Santa Claus rape your mother or 2) learning how to use proper spelling. If a "System Alert" pops up telling me to click this 'baloon' in order to "download malware removal software," it's pretty much a dead giveaway to not go click and download even more Spyware. You make thousands of dollars, maybe even millions to ruin people's lives - I'm sure you can invest in a dictionary or go to dictionary.com.

Here's the picture of what I see on my screen every time I open a new broswer. WARNING for everyone else. I think it gets bigger if you click to enlarge it.

'Cunt' Still Needs To Be Reclaimed

I know I'm a day late for my traditional V-day post, but I got up at 2:45am yesterday morning and drpve 9.5 hours to North Carolina to surprise Jay for Valentines' Day. I was going to do this while he was recording The Lost Podcast last night, but I kinda passed out right after Lost was over and didn't get around to this. So here goes:

If you haven't already heard, there was major controversy yesterday when actress Jane Fonda appeared on The Today Show with Vagina Monologues' author Eve Ensler. Meredith Vieira asked Fonda about her appearance in a benefit performance at the Hammerstein Ballroom last night to raise money and awareness for women and girls. Fonda told about her inital reluctance to do the show, because she was "asked to do a monologue called cunt." Everyone freaked out. Vieira laughed nervously. NBC made her issue an apology. Watch for yourself.

The "issue" in question:



Meredith Vieira's apology:



Now, I'm not going to go into how I feel about The Vagina Monologues. I did that last year, so you can read it here (it's honestly probably my favorite thing I've ever posted here). I wanna talk about the word cunt.

The "C-word" is a lot like the "N-word." At least, in my opinion it is. It's used as a pejorative term to describe a woman (ie "I think Hillary Clinton is a cunt."). It's used to describe a vagina (along with toadie, dee dee, nishi, dignity, monkey box, VA, wee wee, horsespot, nappy dugout, Rebecca, Mimi, split kinish, schmende, etc al.). It's used lovingly (ie "Julia, you're my favorite little cunt."). It's - well, you get the point.

Eve Ensler wrote "Reclaiming Cunt" not to be offensive or controversial. She meant it to take a traditionally negative word and reclaim it as an empowering word for women. By taking away it's derogatory connotation, Eve thinks women can make it a positive term. Instead of cunt meaning bitch or whore or weak or lowly, why not take this word and make it mean powerful or strong or woman or beautiful. After all, cunt is just another word for vagina. Yes, we call men "dicks" when they act like assholes...but then again, we also call anyone we don't like a "douche bag" - another object associated with a vagina. Not for nothing, but why are we so sensitive to that word? Dick is thrown around so casually and no one gasps in shock or threatens a lawsuit when it's used on them. Why make cunt so taboo? Yeah, it's a crude, abrasive word, but why does it have to be? The idea behind "Reclaiming Cunt" is to turn the use of 'cunt' as an insult into the use of 'cunt' as a glorification. If you don't give power to someone to deprecate then they won't have it! Take that power back, don't let 'cunt' be used as a bad word.

NBC making Merideth Vieira apologize for Jane Fonda using the word cunt is a prime example of WHY Eve Ensler included "Reclaiming Cunt" in The Vagina Monologues. It's taking a step backwards from what the V-day movement has worked to achieve the last 10 years. I'm not saying that women should start throwing that word around like a softball, but

The monologue itself is short, but always a crowd pleaser. I'll leave you all with it as I go. I think I've scared my boyfriend with my rant about cunts. Happy V-day everyone. Pussies unite.

I call it cunt. I’ve reclaimed it, “cunt.” I really like it. “Cunt.” Listen to it. “Cunt.” C C, Ca Ca. Cavern, cackle, clit, cute, come—closed c—closed inside, inside ca—then u—then cu—then curvy inviting sharkskin u—uniform, under, up, urge, ugh, ugh, u—then n then cun—snug letters fitting perfectly together—n—nest, now, nexus, nice, nice, always depth, always round in uppercase, cun, cun—a jagged wicked electrical pulse—n (high pitched noise) then soft n—warm n—cun, cun, then t—then sharp certain tangy t—texture, take, tent, tight, tantalizing, tensing, taste, tendrils, time, tactile, tell me, tell me, “Cunt, cunt,”say it, tell me “Cunt.” “Cunt.”

P.S. Hi Rachel and the rest of my lovely Vag girls who may be reading this :)

The Spirit of The Vagina Monologues

"Vagina is a dirty word culturally. Penis you can say as many times as you want but vagina's a bad word."

-Grey's Anatomy writer Krista Vernoff on the podcast 1/19/07

So, it's Valentine's Day & I'm feeling down. Why? Not because I don't have a valentine (I could care less, honestly) but because it's more of all those not-at-Marist emo feelings that keep plaguing me. Today marks the first Feb. 14 in 5 years that I haven't been gotten to talk about vaginas.

When I first auditioned for The Vagina Monologues back in Feb. '03 (freshman year), I did it because I had taken a long-needed break from doing theatre & was looking to get back on stage. When I got in, I accepted the part & did the show mainly because it pissed my mother off royally. And when I say she was angry that I would dare do something against the conservative Catholic mold she & my father had so carefully brought me & my sisters up in, I mean she was a-n-g-r-y. She came to see the show but was so mortified and embarrassed over the subject matter that she completely & totally missed the REAL point of The Vagina Monologues.

The point isn't to bash men. It isn't some giant lesbian-fest, nor is it a bunch of obnoxious hairy-arm-pitted chicks burning their bras, screaming "I am woman!" Just look at me. I'm definitely not any of those things at all. No, the message of The Vagina Monologues is both loud AND subtle. To quote one of the monologues, it's about "loving [your] woman self." Brief history/synopsis: Eve Ensler conducted hundreds of interviews with women of all ages, races, nationalities, occupations, social status, etc. about their experiences & thoughts on all sorts of subjects that women deal with like sex, childbirth, dating, marriage, menstruation, masturbation, grooming down there, the generation gap, fears, peeves, domestic abuse, being a casualty of war, favorite nicknames for their lady part, etc. And as the prologue tells us, "Women secretly loved talking about their vaginas, mainly because no one's ever asked them before." She then took the interviews and made them into a series of monologues addressing subject. Some are very funny, some are very shocking, some are extremely poignant and some are very depressing. All are very powerful.

The word 'vagina' is an interesting word. As Ms. Vernoff said, it's considered to culturally be a dirty word. Perhaps it's because it's not considered ladylike for women to discuss such things and men just get embarrassed to even acknowledge that the female sex organ even has a name (vagina=sensitivity=intimacy=freaks people out). Yet we have no problem calling people cowardly/weak people "pussies" or bitchy people "cunts". In show context, 'vagina' is used as a metaphor in many cases because it's a taboo word that gets people's attention. After all, the vagina is the ultimate sign of femininity, so why shouldn't it be used?

I participated in the show in 2003 & 2004 as a cast member. In 2004, when I was elected to the e-board for Marist College Council on Theatre Arts (MCCTA) as the Managing Director of Experimental Theatre (ETG), I inherited the task of being the liasion between MCCTA & the V-day organization. In 2005, I directed it and in 2006, I was lucky enough to do one of my favorite monologues as my swan song ("The Flood").

Back to what the spirit of Vag really is. The true spirit of The Vagina Monologues is camaraderie. It's for insecure women to know that they're not alone and for secure women to know that it's okay to feel secure & okay to have moments of insecurity. It's for all to know that they can make a difference, feel good about themselves, fight oppression, rise to challenges, speak out against things that bother them. They can define themselves in whatever way they choose. It's about girl power, but it is NOT about girl power at the expense of a man. The show doesn't bash men. Some of the subject matter may be uncomfortable for men to sit through, but it's nothing scary at all. Men: no one's going to lynch you for having a penis if you're in or around the vicinity of a performance.

To say that The Vagina Monologues changed my life is cheesy. The Vagina Monologues hasn't changed me in that life-altering, total wake-up call way. It's changed my sense of awareness and made me want other chicks to be aware. Aware, not obnoxiously bold about being a woman, running around screaming "CUUUNT!" every chance they get. My mom was wrong to be so worried; I haven't turned into a crazy liberal; I still have the same values she raised me with and many of the same views.

If my vagina could talk, what would it say? "Good luck to all my little Vag-es at Marist. Make me proud." Purple feathers, twigs and shells forever. Happy V-day.

Between my fist & my Pollyanna flower

How awesome is this picture?

Some more pictures & an article about such phenomenons. It's from July, but still crazy. Very symbolic of life in general, no? Kinda sums up the past year quite nicely, too...

There's Always the Next

2am and i'm still awake writing this song
if i get all out, it's no longer inside of me
threatening the life it belongs to
and i feel like i'm naked in front of the crowd
'cause these words are my diary screaming outloud
and i know that you'll use them however you want to
but you can't jump the track
we're like cars on a cable
and life's like an hourglass glued to the table
no one can find the rewind button now
so cradle your head in your hands
-Anna Nalick

Warning: this is going to be a bit of a downer post, since I'm in one of those moods. And it's long. Don't bother to read it if you don't want to hear me bitching about shit that makes no difference in the scheme of things, that I brought on myself anyway. Skip to my last post, it's a funny story.

You know how certain days or events can trigger 'those' types of feelings? Where you just sorta harp on things that you can't fix, particuarly because you know that you can't fix them? Well, October 20 is one of those really stupid days for me. I'm going to be ambiguous because I'm not writing this to call anyone out, since I'm of the school of thought that it takes two people to fuck up *most* situations and I'd never be so arrogant as to assert that most of the shit that bothers me isn't at least partially my fault. I can't ever leave anything alone & have the tendency to beat a situation to death, especially if I know that I can't win - and even more especially if it's something that I really, really wish was different.

Anyway, what's bothering me is bad choices, second chances & acceptance.

Bad choices: I used to let things scare me. I cared too much about stupid shit, like the "what ifs" or what people on the outside of a situation thought of it. I just didn't want people to know what I was thinking - or rather, I didn't want people close to me to know how i was feeling. I know now, years later, that "what ifs" & the paranoia of opening yourself up are just excuses to run away from something you want but you're not sure of. I don't think that anything is ever black & white. Nothing is either "this" or "that". You just have to be brave enough to try something out because you never know if it will be the best thing of your life. As Gilda Ratner said, life is "delicious ambiguity." And if it doesn't work out, yeah that sucks, yeah it'll sting for a while, but we all float on. In hindsight, I know now that the right choice was made by someone. I wasn't a sure bet. I was angry & hurt over feeling not good enough for a long time - probably, honestly, til this summer. But time & maturity lets you rethink what happened. I can't say that if the situation was reversed, I wouldn't have done the same thing. It just happened to me but it changed me. It made me a little less afraid each subsequent time. Then again, nothing else really meant as much to me after, but it's ok. I think that the right choice was made & I'd even say it in person if it ever came up (not that it ever will, but I'd be man enough to admit it - I can actually write about it, even if it's very vaguely).

Second chances: I'd like to think that I'm a good person. I just get a little carried away sometimes. I'm passionate. But I try, I really do. And I wish that I had had a second chance with certain things, most recently something that happened this summer. (Or didn't happen, depending on how you look at it, haha - oohhh I hope I never lose ability to make small jokes like that to keep myself from going crazy in general.)

In any case, I blame karma. I've been in the reversed situation before ( see above!), so there was a moment when I just knew that there was no hope for me. I just did. And I want to say a great many things right now, but though I'll probably never get to say them, they're not for public forum. I barely talked about it to anyone - even Julia, Randy, Cassidy kept hearing, "I don't want to talk about it, it's not you, I just don't want to."

Even now I'm kinda considering taking this paragraph out because I'm terrified that anyone reading it will know what I'm talking about & roll their eyes at me for sounding lame. I'm just very sorry that I took my own disappointment & unhappiness out on my friends who have always been around for me, like Brian, Ian, Bobby, etc. Thank God for Claudio & Frankie, even in their somewhat buzzed state, for seeing I wasn't all rainbows & butterflies at Joe's party & not letting me leave until they were certain I was fine, even though they just sat in my car with me in silence cause I didn't want to talk about what was wrong. They cared when I needed it. And though I was pissed at CJ (Cassidy) for taking my phone at my grad party & making a phone call that I did not know about until afterwards, she & Claudio were amazing at taking care of me one night in July. Seeing that I needed to just be upset for a night to get a shitty day out of my system, they really were good friends that night. Especially because I again "didn't want to talk about it." CJ, Brian & Ian whisking my hungover ass away to Splish Splash the next morning at the ass-crack of dawn was just what I needed too: to be reminded that I have friends who care, even when I don't think that I deserve it or am selfishly wallowing in my own disgusting self-pity. They'll always give me second chances & for that, I'm truly grateful. Golio was a godsend too. He was the one who really gave it to me straight without even asking me any questions for details or info. I wouldn't have gotten myself back on track as quickly without Chris Golio's tough love, ha. Matero, too. He got me out of a bad situation towards the end of the summer, even if it wasn't quick enough. He tried though; I just was too stupid to listen to him to get out of there sooner. I was drunk & had to see where the train was going to crash. I wish I had listened to him. I wish to God I had. I knew I wasn't getting any second chances before that night, but after that, I think that the first chance was pretty much tainted forever.

The moral of the story is that I need to stay off the Facebook for at least 2 weeks. I hate randomly checking people's profiles & discovering shit that I don't know about & never would've known. Cause now it'll bother me, which is completely & utterly retarded. I'll know it's lame & then get pissed at myself for being lame & pathetic. It's a terrible cycle. But certain things have hurt my feelings & it's all the Facebook's fault. The end.

Acceptance: During one of the Mets games at Matero's house this week, his cousin told him & Ian that "she's a chick, but she's more of a man than both of you," because I held my own in the pizza/donut overindulgence (UGH I'm TOTALLY paying for it now though) & had no problem screaming obscenities at the screen, arguing about baseball strategies & letting them fart in front of me. Despite my apparent "one of the guys" qualities, I'm still a girl. And I don't like to accept that something is over, especially when it's not on good terms. Hence why I was angry for almost 4 years over ^, still wish that I was at Marist like woah & had to make sure that I must've totally looked like a fucking crazy person this summer. I just don't. I don't generally hold grudges. I hate knowing that there are things that I can't fix, won't get closure for, can't change, can't at least talk about to find some sort of peace. One October 20 I finally gave in to something I always wanted & now I'm reminded that because I waited so long...it was too late. And that was the hardest thing I've ever had to accept, hands down. But I did & I survived to finally talk (write) about it.

One last confession while I'm at it: Honestly, I've been putting up all those Facebook pictures & blogging about good times a lot more lately as more of a way to convince myself that everything is okay in the end, I can have a good time even if I'm not totally feeling it & you just have to keep chugging thru. Obla-di, obla-da. Life goes on. Sometimes I wish that I was included in other people's fun times or that they were included in mine, but I'm grateful for what I've got going on & the friends I've got.

I doubt anyone's still reading this, but if you made it down this far, I came across this postcard from PostSecret. PostSecret is this amazing website where people write down their secrets on a postcard & mail it in anonymously. It's absolutely incredible - I'd totally love to start my own version of it. Imagine getting whatever's bothering you off your chest but no one has to ever know it's you. Check out the site. Anyway, I found this postcard & it especially applies to something that I think is at the core of what's really making me so emo, though I'm not sure why it matters so much. It just does, probably because I know I made some bad decisions, I'm not getting any second chances, and I'm just going to have to accept it:

I'm so silly. Silly, silly Colleen! At least I know that anyone referenced but not identified by name in this probably isn't reading it. And if they are, then they can holler at me if they have a problem, question or comment. Really. I'm quite harmless. Peace.


"You know what? You're the first person I ever told about this...and I feel a little bit better."

Don't Burn the Day

True story:



[Source]

Take Me Back...

Dear Friends at Marist,

I'm so incredibly jealous of you all right now. In fact, I think that if I had to take 8am classes, 5 days a week just so I could go back and not have to be in the real world, I would be ok with that. So, kids, here's my advice:

1. Go out and have fun. After freshman year, I didn't do nearly enough partying (no matter how much Randy tried to tell me that i should go out & be fun) until tech week of Festival. Unfortunately, I decided I liked it so much that I've spent much of the past 3 months livin' like it's 1999. But that's not the point. My last month at Marist may have very well been the best time I had at school & it's what's making me want to go back so much more, haha.

2. Listen up, MCCTA: It's JUST fucking MCCTA. I know that statement makes me THE MOST hypocritical person on the planet right now but the show will go on. But please, don't let Crissy have a heart attack. Someone drag her away from the theatre once it hits 11pm. 1am is acceptable for tech weeks. Dunkin Donuts runs are your lifesavers. Yuhas will always be up for one. Oh, & make the new beer fairy do something totally unfair at least once. And fuck you for getting to do "Crazy for You," which is still my favorite show that I've ever done.

3. Irish nachos at Darbys. They're your best friend.

4. Riverfest is the greatest night ever.

5. The wall in Gartland is the best spot on campus.

6. Enjoy it. It's going to be gone soon. And before you know it, it'll be the end of Aug, 3 months after you've graduated & you'll wish that you weren't in the real world, but rather in your common room with your fantastic roommates (xoxo), laughing about hand drawn penis pictures, watching tv on dvd & having everything's silly time. And you'll be really missing all places, good times & the great people that changed your life.

Love,

Colleen

P.S. I really wanna go back.

maybe a bright sandy beach is gonna bring you back

Being that I had almost the exact same "conversation" today with two different people, I feel the need to include the away message of Brian Sabella, the second person to bring the 'not-going-back-to-Marist' topic to my attention today (not that it wasn't already on my mind/brought up by almost everyone i've ever met in the past few weeks).

StamosIsLife: Finishing up packing for Marist...

Oh wait, Im old.

You little bastards better enjoy it.

Muffin is right. Katelyn actually said to me the other night, "You know, it's really scary that you graduated. I don't like it. It makes me realize that it doesn't last forever." Damn right it doesn't. I'm not going to get into it now cause it's late, but sometimes you really don't know what you've got til it's gone. But I was lucky. After a somewhat rough year (that had good moments, I'm not complaining), I had a very, very, very, very awesome last month of school. Starting with Festival then Banquet then Riverfest then Yuck then Senior week then Senior Formal then graduation; I feel incredibly lucky & blessed that I ended my time at Marist on such a high note.

I guess that's why this has been such a frustrating summer for me. Some things that I wanted to last...didn't and some things that I wanted to happen...haven't. But that's neither here nor there & this is not the time/place to analyze my summer. Maybe another time. Life is funny. I'm a very intense person but I'm an understanding person & not unforgiving. People never give me enough credit: I'm good at brushing things off my shoulders simply bc I don't want the weight of being angry or hurt or hating someone/having them dislike me. It's not worth it. Ok, shut up, Colleen. Just shut up.

Anyway, I did a first for me today: went to the beach by myself. Now, I absolutely love going to the beach but it's been the one thing that I've never really considered doing before. I've seen movies by myself (working at a movie theater desensitizes you to that), eaten by myself (granted, not at a restaurant, but I've gone into places like Panera or Dunkin Donuts or Quiznos, etc al & eaten alone), i've sat at concerts by myself (even if I had friends who were there, just sitting in a different section - DMB @ SPAC 2003 for example) and i've gone to see plays alone. Bottomline: I don't have a problem with a little 'me' time. Anyway, I've never considered going to the beach alone & especially this summer with certain 'circumstances' - so to speak - have caused me to always feel it necessary to have a beach buddy. Cassidy & Claudio have gone to the beach by themselves before & it's quite relaxing & peaceful & gorgeous there, so it shouldn't be a big deal at all. Soooo after an absolutely AMAZING day yesterday at the beach with Julia, Brian, Chris Golio, Ian face & Joe Matero, I decided I wanted to go again today. I woke up and it was gorgeous out so I thought to myself, "Self, just go do it."

So I did. And I relaxed with a book then walked around for over an hour. Said a hello that wasn't as awkward as I thought (I guess? from my POV but what do I know about anything?). Oh yeah - I also saw an old naked guy pissing into the ocean.

Basically, at Smith's Point, if you go all the way down to the right, there's a nude section. I remember walking down there in like 11th grade or something with either Claudio or Tricia or someone bc when you're like 16, the idea of naked people at the beach is still funny. Anyway, I remembered it being alot further than it actually is. At first I was like, "Ok, that dude's naked. Don't stare, just walk a little bit further, it's not crowded." I'm an idiot but I didn't feel like turning around and going back yet. So then I walk about 3 more minutes & see more saggy ballsacs. This time, I'm kinda getting the feeling (especially when I see some naked fat old lady) that it's time to go back. The clincher was when I look up from finding a song on my newly created playlist & see some guy standing by the sea. "Ok, Colleen, don't stare," I say to myself. Then I notice that he's NOT JUST STANDING THERE. NOPE. OLD GUY. NAKED. PISSING INTO THE ATLANTIC OCEAN.

Yup. That was great. I did not go swimming after I got back from my walk.

Ok, this post is long & I have to go find stories for StarkedNY.com for tomorrow since I have work at AT 3-close & I have to go back to the mall so shit's gotta be done early. Thanks to everyone who's been going there & reading it. I really, really appreciate it.

P.S. Snakes on a Plane was awesome. Just awesome. Audience participation. I got to say, "Oohh, what's a trouser snake?" when the guy got bit in the crotch & Matero yelled out, "It's a trouser snake!" My favorite part (other than *the* line) was some guy from the audience yelling, "Why isn't William Shatner in this movie?!"
P.P.S. I'm going to put up videos from the Counting Crows concert as soon as I figure out how to load shit onto YouTube. Adam Duritz is fantastic.

*I finally unloaded like a month's worth of pictures from my camera; this is one from Aug 2, when Danny & I went with Brian to his gig in Hartford. We met up with Bri's friend, Tim, watched Brian play, then stayed up all night playing in Tim's pool, drinking & then having an insane game of "Never Have I Ever." But to kick off the night - aka Happy Hour - Brian bought us all pints. Look how tiny I am next to Danny & the pint haha.