i am rupert murdoch's private mistress.

i do not have a myspace, facebook, or any other sort of social networking account. word on the street is that one or more of my friends may have created a page for me on one of these sites. these are pages created by my fans who love me dearly, and wish to have their names dropped in my blog. not going to happen. this kid has no web dedications aside from this ever famous publication.

i don't want to support rupert murdoch in any way (aside from his occasional tryst), have no desire to waste more time on my computer, already communicate with friends on the level i can handle, am a closet neo-luddite, and find a delicious self-righteous gratification in excluding myself from activities everyone else i know does. oh yeah, being a self-righteous asshole is still rad!
furthermore, i don't have any "friends back home" who need to find me in the either.

i realize it is libelous to admit my affairs with my pet rupert, but it's only because he will never admit it.

so, am i a sociologist yet?

i don't actually care to answer that question. as many of my faithful readers know, i find these lines we draw between sciences and disciplines to be quite problematic.

i completed my final two courses to earn a "bachelor of arts in sociology with a minor in black studies" degree this afternoon. i guess i am officially graduated, although i am not attending a ceremony and my diploma will not be mailed to me until a few months from now.

supposedly i am excited. this is what everyone tells me anyhow. the truth of the matter is that i can not tear my mind away from getting into graduate school long enough to enjoy this moment. between finding a descent occupation to bide my time and waiting for the disappointing letter carrier's delivery every day i can not force myself to get excited about graduating. and it's not only that. the extreme devaluation of the bachelor's degree in our post-modern society is really getting me down. it doesn't have much of an affect on my getting a job. it is essentially portrayed as the new high-school diploma for people in my demographic, and we all know what those are worth these days. i'm so focused on the carrot at the end of the stick that i am missing sight of the process of reaching it. we call this progress, but it feels more like numbness.

then i hear how pessimistic and defeatist this all reads, and begin to realize that i don't need to let anxiety get the best of me. i'm going to enjoy this if it kills me! i worked my ass off for the past four years, and should be proud i found the top of this hill. four years ago i went to college because i wacked off my index finger and did not have any desire to work any longer. it was college or houselessness for this cat. no way did i believe it would last. i have the faith in phenomenon i would imagine an earwig to hold (not ten times their weight). i am more intelligent for it, more understanding, articulate, ready, and willing to chew through buildings. this blog will hopefully not be as celebratory as this thing gets (my countless readers know how i feel about internet activism and celebration). there should be a gathering and incinerating of various articles of furniture and clothing in the near future. this will likely be followed by some "i love you" and the reciprocal "i love you too" statements. or so i would only expect. for now this business should come to a close. i have big things to get in my mix of! that is not code for "diapers to change". although, that is also true. L'Chaim!

stop!

it will come and go, and i will miss it-
miss it because i am looking for something else-
or have no notion of what to be looking for-
likely because i give it a specific name before it exists-
i paint it before it is able to be conceptualized-
i listened to the cues of what i "should" be feeling-
and for the remainder of time in this life i will think it is in the future-
never wondering if it went by unnoticed-
it will-
the best day of my life will likely not be acknowledged-

(*&^%

as they said it would be, she traded her notebooks for foreign film collection and the newest of coats-

painted old walls to rename spaces and when dry applied a second and forth-

seeing old statues with pock marks galore, mold growing places we’d never explore-

she had a want to keep a fist in the air-

overlooked by the comfort of waiting room’s conditioned air-

Regarding: "Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center" by bell hooks

in her chapter on revolutionary parenting, bell hooks wrote about public ideals toward motherhood and love. she addressed the societal belief that every woman is expected to have a natural love for and connection with children. on the contrary, some mothers do not love their children, some fathers love their children more than mothers, some children do not love their parents, some people have no desire to relate to children in any way. hooks was writing about the sociology of love and emotions in this section, and made a clear point that gendered assumptions regarding children and love are often bias and false. the fact that you are related to someone does not enact love, nor does being a parent or child. some people feel love through the obligatory connection of blood relationships, some need time and experience to feel love for another person, and still others have their own personal parameters which create what they consider a loving relationship. as it is a bonding agent of some of the most intimate forms of social integration, i appreciate it when theorists address ideas of love in society.

i honestly enjoyed this book, and have recommended it to several friends. It does not hold a definite answer to the centuries old issues of sexist oppression, however, bell hooks, in her genius way, writes a foundation to build further theory and active participatory movements on.