Virtue of a Vixen

Virtue of a Vixen

alicethepickle

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So on and so forth.	[Sep. 18th, 2006\|11:02 pm]
If you haven't figured it out by now, I've stopped posting on livejournal and have moved to a much broader voyeur audience on myspace. If for some reason you care what I have to say, read my blog there: http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=100503340 mwah
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The Truth All Too Familiar	[Jul. 29th, 2006\|09:56 pm]
Most of you have heard, in one form or another, that the year after college is the hardest you'll ever have. I didn't believe it at first, nor did I understand why everyone said this. But tonight I know. I know what they meant and I know it is true. This is the hardest time because we are somewhere between a community that knew us, friends that accepted us in all our strangeness, celebrated our idiosyncrasies, webs and webs of support -- and whatever comes next. We aren't there yet -- to "life", to whatever comes after college-- because these places where we are (more school, home for a year or more, working in a foreign country or a foreign city) are transitory. For the same reason the human soul longs for whatever is next -- the afterlife or whatever altered state -- we long for a home to build, friends and community that we can rely on. But for now... we simply exist. The friends we make may in years to come know us better than those before -- but years and years of experience have been shared and struggles overcome with and through those friends we had in college. And our hearts ache. My heart aches being away from the love and encouragement and familiarity found only in those friends who helped free me. This feeling is exacerbated by the realization that it will be many months -- perhaps many years before we are "home" -- and that home is what we will have created. We are all the prodigal sons and daughters. That's what growing-up really is. It's not about responsibilities or jobs or cars. Growing-up is realizing you can never go back.
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(no subject)	[Jul. 24th, 2006\|06:35 pm]
I made a new box today. Covered with heavy packaging paper, neatly folded at the edges. Many people in my life have had their whole existence confined to a small unimpressive box -- remnants remaining behind long after they are gone. Some have filled their box with more air than memories I would want to remember. They serve first as collections -- jewlery, cards, pictures, clothing -- and then as tightly sealed catacombs. The box-tombs are closed and tucked away, until the contents have no meaning, and then are given away to whomever will have them. But each time a new box is made and an old one emptied, a piece of my life goes with it.
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(no subject)	[Jul. 13th, 2006\|11:10 pm]
A Woman is seated at a kitchen table while a Man pours coffee. They chat about mundane daily occurences. Woman: (laughing) It is, but she does make it more difficult. Pause. Man: (Suddenly serious) Why are you seducing me? Pause. W: For reasons you could never understand. M: I love my wife. W: You did love her. M: I do. She is everything I need. W: She was everything to you, enough of everything, until I came. M: Until you seduced me? W: Until you were willing to be seduced. I'm feeling horribly disillusioned tonight -- but what is more -- I am disillusioned by my self. I have discovered a new truth in my actions. It used to be easy to say that it was about feeling sexy, powerful, getting attention, whatever. But those reasons are too simple now because they do not elucidate the complexity of my actions. Why has my focused changed from the obtainable to the taken? It is to prove to myself and to them, that love isn't real. That I can break their complacency because there was nothing there to begin with. Obviously, this is a bitter, cynical product of being told lies for who only knows how many months or years, and intellectually I know that love exists and that not all love is violent and destructive -- but on a practical, experiential level, for me it is. And so I am the ultimate saboteur: I seek to destroy to reveal the inherency of destruction. Right now I am seeking that violent destruction -- to prove to myself that all this fairy-tale romance is pure illusion -- because believing it is real, and trusting that it will be there tomorrow when I wake up or ten years from now is much more dangerous -- much more damaging. Because in the end, I am afraid to love, because the moment my guard is down, and I have lowered my defenses -- that's when the knife's aim is deadly accurate. And so I read words of love and caring over and over again... trying to cement them in my brain... in a place I can neither destroy nor disbelieve. And I do not seek significance or romance in the arms of another, but in the absence of the one who loves me for who I was created to be and in the presence of hundreds willing to use me but whom I fight against -- I am left to battle these demons of doubt and violence. In this new place I have been force to confront my most formidable enemy: myself. I am beginning to see that this path was forged from the time of my birth.
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What I Learned In Grad School	[Jul. 6th, 2006\|07:33 pm]
So I come to find out, that there is something harder than Cornell. It's name is grad school, particularly Clinical Anatomy. Now conceptually, it's a piece of cake: this goes to this and does that. But capacity wise, it's like childbirth: trying to squeeze something the size of a watermelon out of (or in this case, into) something the size of a small lemon. I just can't do it. I feel like I'm shooting in the dark trying to "choose" things to remember and hope that they are some of the obscure anatomical anomalies they put on the test that determines my future. So it sucks. A lot. And not in that pleasant sort of way. As a result of today's test, you won't be hearing from me for a while: neither letter nor email nor phonecall shall escape me until the end of this month, when G-d willing, this class will be a vague memory. Don't hate me... cause I know exactly where to hurt you. :)
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The Son My Father Never Had

[Jun. 27th, 2006|07:51 pm]

[	Current Location	\|	Waukegan, IL	]
[	mood	\|	I have a home.	]
[	music	\|	Freebird... damn it's good.	]

Today I made a brief presentation to my Professional Issues and Ethics class of about 90 or so people. My speaking was apparently impressive prompting someone to comment to my roommate that, "Alice should be a politician's wife."
And I thought, why do I have to be the wife? Why can't I be the politician? Why can't I be the bread-winner? I'm not a feminist in any traditional sense, but sometimes I think: I'm an amazing woman, but I'd be a mediocre man. Because I'm a woman I'm "argumentative" not "persuasive". Because I'm a woman I'm the helper and not the chief executive officer. Sometimes I think I'm compelled to succeed just to say, "what, you thought my breasts (be they spectacular miniatures or not) somehow inhibited my ambition?" There is a wedding vow that says, "That a woman not ask a man to leave meaningful work to follow her. / That a man not ask a woman to leave meaningful work to follow him." --(Denise Levertov)

Sometimes I wonder about having children (these subjects connect in my mind... you'll see). I mean, I have an intense biological drive to have children NOW! NOW! But, that aside, I wonder if A) I should subject a child(ren) to my genetics, B) I would somehow be improving the world by having children of my own and most importantly C) would I be satisfied and fulfilled loving the children of the world rather than having my own. There have been times I have resented my womanhood because I felt like I have to choose between pursuing a successful career that I have spent inordinate amounts of time and money on in order to be a good mother. But the conflict is that I want both. I want to nurture and coddle and love but I also want success. BUT I would never not have children because of a job or money, the question is, are children what I am meant to bring into this world? I have kind of resigned myself to the 1% method of deciding: that is, birth control is only 99% effective, so if G-d deems it appropriate for me to conceive (within a loving marriage of course), He should find that 1% more than adequate to slip one in.

Gross... I know.

Oh, la di da.

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We Are Still Together In Our Dreams	[Jun. 20th, 2006\|10:58 pm]
... You touched my heart, you touched my soul You changed my life and all my goals And love is blind and that I knew when My heart was blinded by you I've kissed your lips and held your head Shared your dreams and shared your bed I know you well, I know your smell I've been addicted to you Goodbye my lover Goodbye my friend You have been the one You have been the one for me ... I've seen you cry, I've seen you smile I've watched you sleeping for a while I'd be the father of your child I'd spend a lifetime with you I know your fears and you know mine We've had our doubts but now we're fine And I love you, I swear that's true I cannot live without you Goodbye my lover Goodbye my friend You have been the one You have been the one for me And I still hold your hand in mine In mine when I'm asleep And I will bare my soul in time When I'm kneeling at your feet ... "Goodbye My Lover", James Blunt
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If Only You Could See, It's Not Just Me That You're Losing

[Jun. 13th, 2006|05:07 pm]

[	Current Location	\|	Waukegan, IL	]
[	mood	\|	manic	]

Alice’s Rules of Love

1. When I walk into a room pause whatever sport, video game or email you are occupied with and greet me. Examples of acceptable forms of greeting include kissing, hugging, pulling me into your lap, or pushing me against the door with your gyrating pelvis. If the period of time between visits exceeds one week, please see the latter accepted greeting.

2. Kiss me in public. I abhor tongue-in-each-others-face, I’m-going-to-hump you type PDAs, but a good, old-fashioned, closed-mouth but full-lipped kiss is okay anywhere (excluding churches and in front of my parents, unless you have just heard the words, “I now pronounce you man and wife,” in which case, church-tongue is permissible).

3. Kissing sessions are not inherent preludes to fooling around. Kissing can be fun, dare I say satisfying. Just because I want to slobber on you, doesn’t mean I’m inviting you into my skirt.

4. Sex can wait. You’ll live… I promise.

5. There will be no living together before there is an exchange of rings. Exceptions are considered in the case of an immanently impending marriage, but again, this is not an invitation into my skirt.

6. If my mom and little sister don’t like you, you can stop reading here.

7. Tokens of affection are a necessary part of demonstrating that I am, in fact, important to you. I have little need for fancy or expensive things, but massages without request, scraps of paper with sweet-nothings scrawled on them and complimenting me or my cooking are more than sufficient substitutions.

8. Don’t believe me when I say I’m not into that romance crap.

9. If I do something nice for you, don’t complain. Dumb ass.

10. Show me I’m worth the effort. I won’t ask many sacrifices along the way, but those I do are the ones that mean something to me.

11. When I push you away, pull me back in.

These rules are a post-Jesse-breakup artifact and come after I realized that I have, over the course of my dating career, made a lot of "concessions" to the men in my life. To avoid going into the dramatics of it all, I simply haven't demanded anything of men. Because how could I demand something if I wasn't *worth* having standards? What made me realize there are men out there who are willing to treat me with respect and put forth the effort was a quote actually: "If a boy really loved you, he'd wait a year to kiss you." Stacy's friend told it to her and she told it to me and now I've told it to everyone. But, the point being, it speaks to a fundamental truth that I have long since abandoned: I am not public property. I am someone's future wife (G-d willing), my children's mother! Would I want my children to make concessions to men who weren't willing to give them anything in return?

Absolutely not. So GIRLS and BOYS alike! Start demanding respect!

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This is Going to be Reality; You Can Never Dream It Down

[May. 29th, 2006|08:46 pm]

[	Current Location	\|	Waukegan, IL	]
[	mood	\|	needy	]
[	music	\|	Pandora.com	]

Today was bad. I had a great time at Stacy's grad party -- way too many sweets and teasing underage boys with my womanly wiles -- but it was like I was part of a family (I miss emmy). But Stacy brought up so many things that I can easily repress when not discussing them. So on top of the immense drop in serotonin levels, the sadness that comes from moving to a new place with none of your intimate friends, and the overwhelming confusion that is my heart, I left depressed. Not crippled. Just depressed. Then I talked with Jesse -- I guess "with" is an overstatement -- I talked "at" Jesse. At first I kept things ambiguous but finally I couldn't help but let the flood of tears overwhelm the fear of being "emotionally needy" or not being "strong" like he needs. I cried because I absolutely need to know unequivocally that I am missed, that his life is not the same, is not complete, without me there. I told him that he needs to remind me that he feels my absence less I "throw something away because I've forgotten". We all know what this means. But I feel tortured -- if not Jesse, if not T., if not my father or every other male in my life -- I am too fucking afraid to reveal that I feel anything. Men don't want someone with a guilty conscience, or who loves them more than they love her back, or who need someone to be their rock or shoulder to cry on. Are there exceptions? OF COURSE! But for me? Who will be my rock? I'm not a mess like I used to be. C.C. was unfortunate enough to have me when i was a mess, before I could stand on my own to feet, fight for what I deserve, demand more, and not depend on anyone for my emotional health. But now I am not a mess -- at least no more than every other damaged woman out there. I'm strong -- fucking right I'm strong. But I'm also strong enough to demand the support I need, at least strong enough to say what I need. Maybe not strong enough to walk away when I'm not getting it. Who will be my rock? I seem wonderful from an arms reach away -- but when you have me in your arms... I'm always too much for men to "deal with". Tonight I'm just hormonal... in three days I'll be better. But in three days I'll have to hold those whom I'm leaving behind. G-d this hurts.

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This Brave New World

[May. 28th, 2006|07:08 pm]

[	Current Location	\|	Waukegan, IL	]
[	mood	\|	pensive	]
[	music	\|	Pinback (ala Kyle)	]

I thought I should update my livejournal for those of you who waste your precious lives reading it, since I have gone through a momentous occasion in this road of life. I have matriculated into graduate school and am in my first apartment (which will leave me so poor I will undoubtedly drop 20 or so lbs!). My roommate is awesome; her name is Amanda and I hadn't met her before we moved in together in our lavish apartment in Waukegan, Illinois. It's like living with a politically indifferent version of myself. We even look alike -- strong norwegian women -- a.k.a. poster children for the Arian race! But even with her company it is lonely right now, since without any classwork to do, and no one around to hang out with... I mostly just unpack.

Class starts on Tuesday for the summer. 80-90% of the course load will be Gross Anatomy (which will also cost me a small fortune because I have to buy scrubs and gloves and a dissection kit), and the rest consists of Histochemistry, Medical Terminology, and Professional Issues & Ethics. Putting on my first pair of scrubs the other day was like having a tiara placed on my head -- I felt like "This is it. I've accomplished something." One of the truly self-satisfying things about my program is that it had only an 18% acceptance rate.

There have been a few minor catastrophes since moving in. The worst was when a shelf that was put up in my bathroom gave way (cheap drywall) and the glass jar on top of it hit the toilet, shattered and sent shards of glass into both my feet. My roommates parents came running in and all I could say among the blood and glass and broken shelf was "I'm fine!" A little blood loss never hurt anyone! Well maybe a hemophiliac.

Today is Jesse and my 1 year anniversary. Ironic, considering he's seven hours away from me and the last I heard from him it was 3:09am and he was drunk. I'm not big into quasi-celebrations (1 yr of dating is a quasi-celebration) but I would have liked a "hey babe, I've put up with you for a year". Right now I just need him to let his indifference down for one damn minute so I can feel like I'm missed, that I'm wanted. Ugh...

Graduation is in less than a week. I'm excited to see several people (I'd say everyone, but... come on... I'd like to throw a punch at one girl in-particular... and you all should know who I'm talking about). The only problem is, I feel like I've moved on with my *new* life (though I should say not at all replacing my friends) and have already had my closure. I'll have homework that weekend for Pete's sake!! But, there will be a lot of tender hugs... I can't deny that I need it... touch.

Enough for now. Onward Voyeur soldiers!

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Crushed

[May. 12th, 2006|08:56 pm]

[	Current Location	\|	Jesse's	]
[	mood	\|	crushed	]
[	music	\|	Depressing music I compiled following Erin Kluk's death.	]

It's an unbelievable feeling... when the rock you have always clung to suddenly is that which crushes you. Tonight, my mom rejected me. Withdrew her love from me it feels. I'd give up everyone and everything for the love of my mother. And here it is, barely over a week before I move, and she has all but said, "leave". Why, you may ask, did all of this happen? Well, forgiving the quarter bottle of bourbon I have had (I'm an alcoholic, I know) I'll tell you. My parents and I were out to dinner and I was admittedly on my father from the get-go. He was telling me how he *knows* Eve had sex with the devil; he's concerned about my sister's vulnerability when it comes to unrestricted computer use, etc. I admit, I wasn't watching what I said. I told them that it would only make things more precarious to be more strict. My father gave the example of my mother's parents one phone in the living room when they were dating -- my retort was "yeah, and look what happened"... my mother took that as a direct and fatal assualt on their marriage. But those who know, know it was more to say, "no amount of supervision prevents children from misbehaving". Then my dad and I got into it about Eve. I called him a misogynist (which he is)... my mother took this as an assualt on her choice of husband. To save a long story, basically my mom said, "So we're the wrong religion; we have the wrong politics and ..." I forget what else... damn bourbon. She got up from the table crying. I tried to stop her because at that point I had no idea she had interpreted anything personally (because it wasn't meant as a personal attack). I followed her out to their car and when I got in she said something like "don't even start Alice". This is one of the most hurtful things she could have said because it is to imply that I am always an attacker, an adversary. So I tried to apologize. But she blew-up... and defended her choice of husband... and defended herself. And she said, "if you don't like my choice of a husband, then get out of the car". But then my father came to the car so I had to leave. And I came here... to Jesse's... to drink away my tears. It is extremely unhealthy, I know this, but otherwise I would just sit here and cry. My mom is right. I don't like her choice of husband. But I'm her daughter. I don't get a choice. I just want someone to say "it's okay". I want to know it's okay to view the world differently. To believe different things. A week and a half and I'm gone. But I love my mom more than anyone, save maybe my little sister. So what do you do when the one person you want to love you, doesn't?

I want to be free.

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Sometimes it fucking hurts.

[May. 4th, 2006|03:26 pm]

[	Current Location	\|	Minnesota	]
[	mood	\|	Infinite	]
[	music	\|	Rufus Wainright, "Halleluiah"	]

I guess this is the perfect end to everything. On my drive home to Minnesota, I prayed, not to hard, but still, I prayed for the end. Not because I have any desire to leave this life, but what a crescendo... to leave this world so full of love, so full of every conceivable emotion: anger, love, resentment, happiness, desire. But, alas, there was no triumphant exit for this one. I suppose someday I'll go out with a whimper. But here I am. Torn, resigned, happy, dissatisfied. Whoever said that the human psyche can not be home to mutually exclusive conditions never lived. Part of me wants none of this; part of me wants to leave everything behind so the tragedy, the elation of supreme loss can be felt. But that part of me is small. The rest of me, what remains, is utterly conflicted -- but not. And so in hindsight every memory changes, every seemingly innocent moment is imbued with new light. In a way, this is poetry. And in another way -- tragedy.

The purest form of love, is that which has never seen the taint of daily life.

"Fuck, this hurts so much."

"Yeah, I know.
But that is life.
If nothing else,
that's life, you know.
It's real. Sometimes it fuckin' hurts.
To be honest, it's sort of all we have."
How are you feelin'?"

"Safe.
When I'm with you,
I feel so safe.
Like I'm home."

-Garden State

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The Climax	[Mar. 29th, 2006\|02:06 pm]
Today I am re-concieved. I am an infinitesimal sperm, ejaculated once again in a fit of lovelessness into the vast womb of life and death, creation and destruction. We will be reborn. If you ever feel like a failure, just remember, YOU beat out 1.5 million other sperm to make yourself. You’re a winner!
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Irrevocable	[Mar. 27th, 2006\|12:26 pm]
He's recinded. My trust is shattered and it's as if the oxygen has been instantaneously sucked from the room in which I stand -- and I'm left collapsed on the floor. He's not coming with me. If there were a signal, solitary, substancial reason perhaps this wouldn't kill me as much as it does. But there isn't. It's a million little things. But I can tell you now what my mother will say: "you're worth the effort" and right now... he's not putting forth any. My heart aches today, so much so I think I might throw-up. I have the overwhelming urge to curse and throw things and grit my teeth... I should never have given up my myriad of self-destructive habits. Now I'm left to actually confront my emotions. Damn. Why oh why is this life one vicious cycle of trust and hurt, love and distance?
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(no subject)	[Mar. 26th, 2006\|08:28 am]
I was never this way before. I was never so anti-US government, so angry at actions over which I have no control. But knowing that the oil industry turned a 300% profit in 2005 (compared to 2004) while foreign countries donated heating oil to the poor in New York because they couldn't afford to keep warm makes me so vehemently appalled. How can we spend nearly $300 billion dollars (billion with a B!!!) on a war with no definable end? I just don't get it. http://nationalpriorities.org/index.php?option=com_wrapper&Itemid=182 I'm not long-haired hippy freak, but I don't think logic is confined only to the radicals.
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(no subject)	[Mar. 22nd, 2006\|11:56 pm]
"Every girl needs to find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep. Wait for the boy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends, who thinks you're just as pretty without makeup, the one who always reminds you of how much he cares and how lucky he is to have you. The one who turns to his friends and says: that's her. " -unknown and yet no one ever will.
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(no subject)

[Mar. 21st, 2006|08:21 pm]

[	mood	\|	indescribable	]
[	music	\|	Library-Silence	]

The giant sign on the OC reads: “Learn how to have great sex” sponsored by the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, the subtitle: “Learn why sex is better in marriage”. Of course I have to go to this tomorrow. Why you may ask, would I of all people go to something like this? To provide perspective of course. Come on, what kind of debate could ensue if everyone nods in agreement about the evils of sex. Of course I’m not going to advocate rampant promiscuity (and not because it’s a sin, but because it is very damaging to one’s self-worth) but I’m simply going to ask the speaker: “did you have sex before marriage?” This banner has already prompted numerous conversations among my acquaintances and friends. I have many thoughts and feelings about this and closely related subjects, but to discuss them means revealing my devastatingly-lacking self-worth… but who reading this doesn’t already know about that?

So here goes: I think sex should be reserved for marriage/partnership. Why? Well, I think that there is something truly special about waiting. Now, I’m also not an advocate of living together before marriage (a rule I am soon to break when I move to IL with my boyfriend) and I’m an even stronger opponent of sexual ignorance and/or self-hatred for deciding to explore your sexuality. But, there are solid psychological benefits to not giving it up: foremost you don’t feel used.

Even if you are in a loving (or perceived as loving) relationship, there is often the sense that if you withheld sex (or sexual acts) he or she would leave you for someone willing to give it up. Obviously you should choose a partner who you know would not be so shallow and conniving, but who among us has not thought – even momentarily-- this very same thing? I asked my wonderful man tonight (half in jest… but only half): “If I stopped giving out the milk, would you buy the cow?” His answer (as one should not be surprised) was: “I hope you’re kidding toots.” And this is a man whom I do not for one second doubt his love and commitment to me… and yet… and yet… there is that sense that I as a person other than the sex-kitten that I am, am not good enough to withhold myself sexually. Perhaps this is why I have embraced modest eroticism; it is my means of withholding some part of myself.

Now here is a conundrum I have often considered (although now it is irrelevant because I am very much in love… but I continue): they say that a good man is waiting for a good, chaste girl. But, what if you’ve never been exactly chaste? Are you damaged goods? I know many-a good “born-again virgins”, but does there come a point when that shit just ain’t good for anything anymore? I mean, can a prostitute be a born-again virgin? And if so… what virginal, woman-respecting man would want her? I would have her… and love her, because I would understand her.

Frankly, as we all know I am frank, I wish I could know that I am loved. People can say it. People can hug you. But to know that one is truly loved is ineffable…

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We're Still Fighting

[Mar. 12th, 2006|02:57 pm]

[

mood

Old-Maidish

]

If anyone knows of the coolest, not for profit job in Kenosha, WI or North Chicago, IL... let me know. The quest for a job that will make Jesse happy continues. My biggest fear now (now that he has said, verbatim: "I am not reluctant to move.") is that he will get frustrated over finding a job and I will internalize and personalize that frustration.

Being the last block here at Cornell for me, I'm rather apathetic. I'm sad when i think about leaving my friends behind, but then I remember the friends who *left me behind* and how much they still mean in my life... even if our conversations are weeks apart. It makes me realize that if someone is truly important in your life, they can't just disappear (or you can't disappear as the case may be). In a way it sucks because there is always the inevitable pain of separation, (and I, as others, have questioned whether it would have been better not to have loved at all) but it's stupid to regret all the good times just because they're over.

On another note, I've been planning my wedding. Not *who* I'm going to wed, just the actual routine of the ceremony. I'm so amazingly creative it's mindblowing. So here's where this all came from: I don't want my dad to walk me down the aisle and "give me away". For one I think this is a patriarchal and antiquated practice that demeans women's individual value, but mostly it's because my dad and I are about as close as Jane and Henry Fonda ("On Golden Pond" people... come on). So here's my solution: first, I want my little sister as my one and only bridesmaid (for so many reasons), but I want both my and my groom's families (through siblings and siblings-in-law + children) to walk down the aisle ceremoniously and stand to their respective sides on the altar with the groom on "his" side and my family on "my" side. THEN, I want to walk down the aisle (although not to that song that I hate) and stand with my family. Then the officiant will talk about what marriage means to me and my groom, then he or she will talk about how are families are to support us and hold us accountable and the families will say "we do" and then kiss us and sit down, leaving... ahh... me and my groom locked in blissful eye contact. Then he'll reach out and take my hand and we will get married... sigh.....

But, we all know what the issue is here: who'd have balls enough to marry me?!

Anyway, for all of my girlfriends out there who don't want their daddies to walk them down the aisle... consider my alternative.

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(no subject)	[Mar. 9th, 2006\|02:58 pm]
“While the earth remains, Seedtime and harvest, Cold and heat, Winter and summer, And day and night Shall not cease.” I am dead. No. I feel dead. Like where my heart should be, there is a vacant cavity. Why do I feel this way? My grandmother has been in Intensive Care for four days. I've known this since Sunday, but haven't thought about it until my sister called upset. I love my Grandmother, but in the way I love my father... with a lot of hurt but a desire for reconciliation. So my Grandmother lays in the ICU with tubes into her heart, an infection poisioning her blood, pneumonia in her lungs... and I feel nothing. Am I dead?
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Censorship

[Feb. 6th, 2006|04:49 pm]

[	mood	\|	Dissent-ful	]
[	music	\|	DRIVE 105!!! Wooo!	]

Last week (or two weeks ago) I submitted a letter to the Cornellian. Now, keep in mind that of the six or so letters I have ever submitted, none have ever gone unpublished. In fact, my writing was complimented in the newspaper office. Interestingly though, when I wrote a letter criticizing someone who is now engaged to the Editor of the opinions section, my letter wasn't run... Hmm. Then, this is the best part, I was sent an email today at 1:00pm saying that if I wanted another letter run, it was due by today at 5 pm... oh, and it could only be 150 words. For fear it will again be censored, I'm publishing it here. G-d bless free speech!

Silencing Subversion
By Alice Wagner

There is a conspiracy brewing on Cornell’s campus. You would never know it if you had no reason to, but the moment you try to raise your voice in dissent: silence. First, there are Senate Exec members voting to disallow students from speaking in a meeting. Conveniently in the same meeting students there with concerns were "overlooked" (or as the last issue of the Cornellian portrayed it, it was the students fault for being ignorant of when to speak). Then there is censorship of what can be written about Senate in the Cornellian – is it free speech if Professor Rich Martin has to squelch criticism? Now, Senate is looking to pay its Exec members for their services. Or how about limiting your voice to these 150 words? There is a lot of talk of cronyism on Capital Hill but maybe the hill to be concerned with is our own.

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