Mouseketeer Roll Call

So it finally happened—I got scheduled for a cultural diversity class. I probably could have handled it better, but there is just something happening with me lately. It’s odd. I feel like part of me has been switched off for a very long time and suddenly…my wiring is starting to spark back to life. Which is great, except that when I am full-on I think I might just be a full-on bitch. On the bright side, I am more active and happy, so maybe it works out?

This gradual muting of who I was started happening when my biological father died, but I really didn’t realize it until my mother had her stroke, and I lost her as a daily companion. When that happened, I stopped doing anything—stopped creating, stopped writing, stopped drawing, stopped even listening to music, but probably most detrimental to who I am…I stopped just opening up on people and speaking my mind.

I am the rant. The rant is me.

Anyway. So I have to take cultural diversity, which I think is just flat out stupid, and I am sure I will end up posting every assignment online somewhere because I won’t be able to do it without making a joke out of the assignment. Below is part of my “biography” in which I was supposed to say what I hoped to get from the class and other blah, blah, blah.

__________________________________________

I don’t expect to get a lot out of this class–anything really. I may meet some people, I may make some friends, but as far as learning anything new goes, no. Cultural diversity courses are probably the worst sociology courses you can take, in that the bulk of the coursework IS opinion and feeling based. There are statistics that people like to use to base their feelings on, but in the end, it’s all one group’s ideas of how things should be said and how people should react and feel, versus another’s.

As for what I expect from this class, I first of all think it is an incredible waste of resources (my money, my time) that focuses on our differences as a people rather than our common bonds–as most politically correct efforts do. I’m not racist or prejudice in most anything, and in fact you may have a hard time pinning down what I truly feel about anything in broad general strokes, because I just don’t think that way. I welcome all debate to my convictions, which can be shifted with proof and further analysis. I’m not afraid to change my mind, and I rarely have any preconceived notions about something I know little about. I have always believed in being completely open to new people and new ideas, so the concept of reeducating me for the purpose of equality enlightenment is just offensive. That being said, after reading the book sent for this course, and going through and reading each and every assignment, if I could take basket-weaving right now instead of this I’d do it in a heartbeat.

If you’ve ever seen the book or even the poster “All I Ever Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten”, and you took any of it to heart, then you don’t need this class. I’ll tell you what I could use though, for the money we spent on this. I could really appreciate another storyboard class, or maybe an illustration class that actually covers illustration and not just Illustrator the program. Of course, we don’t get a say in the classes we take here. How’s that for diversity? 🙂

Additionally, it’s bad enough we have to have a social engineering class at all mandatory for our degree, do we really have a class scheduled at 10AM on a Sunday when a good number of us are supposed to be in church?

I won’t be attending a single Sunday class. 


Neh….

I live like a rat. It wouldn’t matter if my house was worth a million bucks…my study would always always be clutter..
I work best in a nest. All my shit in piles all around me, order in disorder, post-its all over the walls, on the desk and the cat with things like “Dr. Sanderson Nov 21 3:30” and “You want to smoke his pole!”(that last one I found under the desk, appropriately enough) and these are what I use to remember everything from when I need to see my Neurologist to whole scenes between characters in a story that I didn’t have time to write, but that I know will be triggered by a strong catch phrase from the scene. Point is, clutter is my thing, you mess with my mess and you mess me up beyond repair. I can’t function without my mountains of books and notes and gadgets and porn.

Yes…porn. I collect porn.

Penthouse, Playboy, Gallery, Heavy Metal(doesn’t really count bet neh…), these are my chief art reference staples. However, occasionally I get something interesting. This doesn’t count the manga and stuff I get of an anime Yaoi sort of variety of which I am similarly addicted but only got turned onto AFTER I became a penniless bum again…many many many years ago. The real gem of my collection…is the bondage fetish porn.

Now I didn’t buy the stuff, but it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t, it just means I’ve never had that kind of cash to throw away, and while it’s all very pretty(except the stuff with yellow latex which for some reason makes me…very ill) it’s not where my personal tastes fall the strongest. It’s mostly heterosexual stuff big guy/little girl, compromising positions, ball gags and lots of whips and leather. Cute, but…not entirely my thing. So it got bottomed shelved.

Where Widget for a short while considered having her kittens, unbeknownst to me.

Today I am cleaning, knowing we’re possibly going to have an inspector come by soon checking in every nook and cranny, and I get under my desk to find….bits of women all tied up…looking horrified, missing limbs. Heads here, arms there. It was a massacre.

Apparently kitty thinks bondage porn makes the bestest bed eva! She shredded the hell out of it. Battered woman confetti.The floor under my drafting table looked like a scene out of Seven or some other psychological horror flick, and I could just imagine what sort of insane serial killer in the making the inspector would have thought me if he’d shined a light under there first.

So I gathered them all up… and burned the bitches.

I’m a little worried about that though too. I’ve got a history with that sort of thing back firing. For example when I was pregnant, I ate a lot of chicken.

I mean…buckets. All I ate was chicken…no vegetables, no beef…chicken chicken chicken. It was all I could keep down. So living on a farm my husband took out the trash daily, all those chicken bits, and put it on the burn pile. Fast forward two months after moving here, my father and brother-in-law show up with a few other members of my family and they are helping scrape the burn pile(you do this ever so often, bag up what doesn’t burn down and take it to a landfill) and they come across chicken bones.

Piles and piles of chicken bones.

Soooo the rumor becomes…Nick is sacrificing puppies and kittens to the debil!!!!

I shit you not.

You’d think my family would know better, but I come from the biggest herd of self-righteous self-absorbed gossip hungry wackos the south can produce. It doesn’t help that I’m not Christian. In this area if you aren’t Christian you are a baby sacrificing, gris gris carrying, heathen.

I have never been so embarrassed for eating chicken in my life. I didn’t touch the stuff again for near a year…

KFC is the debil….true story