I just finished A Room of One's Own, watching this time instead of reading, and I really need to write about it. I was maybe going to discuss it earlier and I got distracted (as is wont to happen).

Virginia Woolf seems to me a classic case of a woman that doesn't want to accept that she's a woman. What I mean by that is, her goal, for writer's at least, is androgyny. She claims this is necessary because if you exist as man or woman purely, if you speak in any way consciously of what you are, it will be fatal. Your work, what seems brilliant and relevant in the moment will "wither and die by nightfall." I ask you, how can discussing things from the perspective of myself doom me by dent of my being one gender instead of two? I know what Woolf is trying to say, that we must each of us be dialogic, aware of not only ourselves but all others and how we all relate, but the way she does it with the exclusion of characteristics instead of the working with/through said characteristics leaves me sad and disheartened.

I am a woman and will never know what it is like to be a man, not truly. There are socially-gendered activities that might be considered "manly" that I have and will partake in, but that does not make me a womanly-man or show me what it would be like to be male. We can, and I think we should, work to abolish the constructed roles we place around gender, but we should not forget that it is different to be a man than it is to be a woman and that is natural. And I think, furthermore, that if one strives for androgyny instead of inclusiveness that it is a sign that some of society's constructed gender roles have been internalized. What does it mean for me to take issue with misogyny, much as Woolf does even as she argues for androgyny, in my writing? Does that weaken me as a writer truly? I understand that persuasiveness is more appealing that argumentation, but can I not argue sweetly and persuasively that society should treat men and women equally?

What I am trying to say, I think, is that everyone's experience is different. Man or woman, none of us experiences life the same way. These experiences are shaped by our age, culture, era, and, yes, gender. For better or worse if we are to understand each other, we must first understand ourselves. If I am to transcend understanding of women to an understanding of society, I must first understand women and society. Just because I do not acknowledge the effect of society upon my thoughts does not mean the effect is not there.

I am struck most by how Virginia Woolf seems to precede her time in thought and philosophy and how that very genius seems to be what dooms her. I see her espousing the philosophy of the Enlightenment, especially at the end as she discusses how we, women, must prepare for the next coming of Shakespeare’s sister. We must embrace “reality” instead of only the male/female binary. I agree with her completely, but it seems to me she is arguing for dialogism--not a search for the truth, but an understanding of all truths.

I can't help but think of the attitudes expressed in my own family and how so many female acquaintances in my life, much like Woolf attempt to "transcend' their femininity by ignoring it. This accounts I would say in part for my sadness when I read this. I come from a family of tough people and tough women and to show emotion is to show weakness. You can show happiness to a degree, anger in spades, but no sadness. No pain. Such tender emotions are "women's" emotions and strong people don't feel them, let alone show them. It seems for some members of my family the obvious answer to misogyny is to simply do away with femininity. I can't, and won't, believe that is true.

I've watched people in my life take this attitude to the extreme--never crying in public, rarely admitting to crying at all. Holding back grief and boasting of their ability to resist tears even at funerals. I've watched those same people steadily lose their grip on reality. In their on-going struggle to be strong, they have begun to fight themselves. Human beings are not emotionless creatures; even the most staid of us feel something. To ignore these feelings or not acknowledge them is not to strengthen ourselves but to hurt ourselves, to repress and struggle with all we don't like. I've watched people descend into insanity because of it, losing touch with the humanity their fighting so desperately to perfect.

This is all of roundabout way of saying that I’m glad I finally read this text because it’s an important reminder of why I must embrace all that I am, not just the parts that I like best.

Why do I do this to myself? Why do I read these articles knowing what my reaction will be and then burden you all with my reaction? I wish I had an answer. I have so much to do--books to read, a class to plan, a paper to type, but instead I'm on msn reading silly comments by silly people. Canada is going to instate a "one person, one fare" rule next year that, along with only requiring obese air-plane passengers to purchase one ticket, also states that someone with a severe disability, even one resulting from obesity, that must fly with an aide need only pay one fare. America's reactions are found here: http://boards.msn.com/MSNBCboards/thread.aspx?boardid=512&ThreadID=537907&BoardsParam=HIPDelay%3d1

The disability associations are ecstatic; after all, now if you have a disability you don't have to pay double for it. However, all of skinny America is horrendously appalled because fat people crowd others on airplanes and now fat people who need help will be getting two seats for the price of one. It's un-American I tell you, which is probably why Canada is the country that passed the law.

I know fat people are annoying on airplanes, I'm one of them. Part of the reason I always request an aisle seat is so that I can sprawl into the aisle away from whomever is sitting next to me. I don't spill over on an airplane, but I certainly fill my seat to capacity. What bothers me, though, is that a person's size has become an issue of manners. It's a personal affront when you are too fat for the seats that, everyone by the way agrees, are too small. This doesn't surprise me. Much in the same way no one wants to sit next to a crying child or a loud, out of control retarded person, anything that increases discomfort in an uncomfortable situation is frustrating.

I would say, however, that no one suggests (at least out loud) that a child or a retarded person be muffled so as to improve the comfort of those around them.

It's all part and parcel of my ongoing disillusionment with the American dream. It is consistently the consumer's fault and never the businesses. If airplanes are uncomfortable then we need to do whatever we can to improve the situation ourselves, we shouldn't demand larger seats or more leg room. We accept this because the air line is out to make money and we shouldn't impede them. Does that logic make no one else a little sick to their stomach? I'm not talking specifically about obesity here or bigotry towards fat people, but rather a shift in our beliefs that the customer is never right, at least not when the customer inconveniences us. When we, as a culture, accepted that all problems with the services provided were caused by customers instead of companies abilities to deal with customers and meet their needs, our "dream" made a very disturbing shift. If my problems with your services are my fault then the service is no longer at fault and the public must change to fit the demands of the business instead of the other way around. That's not so much a free society at that point.

And yes, I know fat people don't have to fly. We all, supposedly, have freedom of choice. But another issue that bothers me is that we still think of fat as something that can be quit cold-turkey, like smoking, drugs, or some other morally depraved behavior. What if the fat person is on a diet? What if they're just fat? Nobody cares what the reasons for the fatness are or even if the fat person is in the process of losing weight, the holiest of activities in American society at the moment. All anyone actually cares about is that they are sitting next to a "Walrus". The derogatory terms applied to people that classify them wholly on their appearance bother me. Because we all believe that fat is a choice (or at least something that can be changed in the privacy of one's own home before it affects the rest of us) we feel entitled to call people names like "walrus" and whatever else is on that message board.

There was a time when white people didn't want to sit next to black people because black people were dirty. Is the difference really so great?

Our sense of personal entitlement outweighs everything else. I'm entitled to my space. I'm entitled to my comfort. I'm entitled to not have to share my space or comfort with an unattractive person. Stinky is annoying, fat is annoying, sick is annoying, nasal wheeze is annoying. All of these things are annoying, but no one makes a stinky person buy two seats because they smell do they? Maybe they do, it wouldn't surprise me. When our comfort is brought up against someone else's comfort there is rarely a situation where compromise seems acceptable. If you weren't so fat we wouldn't be in this situation people might say. And, perhaps, they are right. But I am fat and this situation is where we are. So what makes a better person, to accept it and make do, or to roll his eyes and smirk at his friend then write the airline and demand that I and others like me pay for two seats?

I'm not saying that others should be inconvenienced unduly for fat people, though, it might bear some thought that being fat is generally uncomfortable on a plane all the time, not just when we sit next to ourselves. What I am saying is that, for better or worse, America is getting bigger. Not just fatter, but bigger. But we hate each other instead of demanding that our economy react appropriately. We call each other derogatory names instead of attempting to understand that the one making us uncomfortable is just as uncomfortable, if not more so. We judge based on appearance because ugly things carry no worth any more. And yes, I think we think of each other, more often than not, in terms of "things."

So nobody wants to sit next to the fat kid on the airplane, but why shouldn't the airplane have to make bigger seats?

Here's another moral/ethical dilemma for you. This comes from Beauty and the Beast and is shocking because it doesn't have to do with issues of bestiality and also, that this show could provide any moral conundrum of any report.

A man is on trial for killing his son. An indisputable physical abuser it is known that he beat his wife and his children, but the elder child maintains he was with her during the time the crime was committed. The wife is unable to testify after she breaks down on the stand. All she gets out is that she originally lied to the cops when she told them her husband had been gone. We the viewer know this man is guilty, but putting myself in the place of the juror, is there reasonable doubt there?

The credibility of the elder child is suspect after it is revealed that she too was physically abused by her father and that she lied when asked previously if she knew he was abusive to his wife and son. That lack of credibility might be enough not to believe her when she maintains that he was with her all night, but interpreted another way it might also be stronger proof that she was. It all depends if she is scared of her father or seeking revenge. Because of the way the character was portrayed I didn't get the impression (even though I knew I was supposed to) that she was clinging desperately to an obvious lie. The worst part was in the closing statements our heroine, also the prosecuting attorney, asked the jury to ignore the lack of evidence in the case and decide with their hearts what they knew to be "true".

It's entirely possible, and when I say entirely possible what I mean is it is true, that if this show were better written many of these issues wouldn't come up. You would know more obviously the girl was a victim and clinging to a lie, you would have a much better case for the defense that didn't rely completely on the emotions of the jury. But the show is what it is and I am left asking the question, do we want a jury to decide a murder case based on what they "know to be true" or on what the evidence shows to be true? I am very hesitant to put my justice system in the hands of pure emotion.

Emotion isn't bad. Emotion plays in part with context and you have to have more than logical deduction to understand how context plays into human interaction. However, courts are supposed to decide, beyond a reasonable doubt, if someone is innocent or guilty and while you might "know" someone is guilty is there still a reasonable doubt that you might be wrong? How often are we so sure we know what we know only to be proven wrong? There are countless times in my life that I have been sure I was correct and when challenged I have sought out the answer via internet or encyclopedia, not because I had to prove I was right, but because if what I believed so whole-heartedly was wrong I really needed to fix myself. The stakes are lower in those situations, but isn't that all the more indicative of how we should be extra careful when in court rooms?

Our need to mete out "justice" has led to us being one of a handful of countries in the world that administers the death penalty to children, or adults for crimes they committed while under fifteen. We try nine year olds as adults for certain crimes. We keep such illustrious company as Iran, Pakistan, and Saudi Arabia, the very countries we hold up as examples of what not to do as we continue fighting this ridiculous war. That our criminal justice system is broken isn't my point here--I think that one is fairly obvious. My point, rather, is what do you do as a juror in this situation. Is it better to go with what you know to be true and risk putting an innocent man in jail, or go only with the evidence and risk letting a wife-beating, child-abuser free? Blackstone is credited with saying that it is better to let ten guilty men go free than to imprison one innocent man.

Is that true? And if so is there a cap on guilty men that should go free before we risk imprisonment of one innocent? Even if there isn't if we agree with the 10:1 ratio we are stating that good of the one outweighs the good of the many. That is, assuming the guilty men continue doing illegal things or even accounting for the victims of whatever crimes the guilty committed, we are placing the good the unjustly accused innocent above all of that. I should probably mention at this point I wouldn't put a cap on my guilty number as I would always error on the side of the innocent--at least I think I would.

And so I'm back to my conundrum. The only way to prevent putting an innocent man in jail is too look at the evidence and so, even if I'm sure the man is guilty, the reasonable doubt tells me I must let him go. But sometimes the evidence, as gathered and presented by human beings, is flawed and so only looking at that might also result in the conviction of an innocent. There doesn't seem to be, therefore, an answer.

What is that crap? I hate questions without answers. That's not true, I love them, but usually I can ferret out some answer, at least for myself. Here, as with last time, I have no idea how it should be done.

I should remark on the previous post that the best line of the show was when the judge told the man that his reparations would be legal not equitable and she would never order a woman to have an abortion. I think she was right and I think it true that a woman should be convicted for the misuse of sperm (or whatever we want to label it) as I also want to clarify that I don't believe the court should order abortions.

The wheels in my head go round and round. Perhaps I will present some of these issues to my students to sharpen their skills of cognition. But I can already see at least one of their answers: throw his ass in jail. Their justice is swift and without mercy. I would feel better about that if I didn't know that many of them, if given the chance, would shoot a kid to ensure a utopia.

Ah the youth of our country.

I'm really tired, but I really want to talk about this. We'll see how it goes.

I just finished an episode of Boston Legal and, like all such episodes, it was entertaining and witty. However, this particular one addressed an issue that I've been wrestling with most of my life--abortion rights. Not rights for the woman, at least not only rights for the woman, but specifically rights for the man.

The situation set up in the show is as follows: crazy woman seduces man into allowing her to perform fellatio on him. She spits his semen back out into a test-tube, takes it the fertility clinic and, unbeknownst to him, impregnates herself. He, not wanting to have a child with this woman and not wanting to be an absentee father, sues her for an abortion.

I know, I know--you can't let the courts go around ordering women to have abortions, that's akin to ordering women to not have abortions. I get it. But it does raise an issue that I feel has become lost in this great debate over whether we should or shouldn't--the man's rights. And yes, I do think the man has some rights.

Part of the problem with this topic in America is that we still argue over the legality of it; so stuck are we on whether it should or shouldn't be allowed that there is no room for deeper more evolved ethical thought. We can't begin to consider the issue of male rights because they might jeopardize the female's right to have an abortion. But assuming we can put all the theological stuff on the side for a minute--what should the course of action be when a woman unlawfully takes the sperm of a man? While the fellatio might have been consensual, I think I would consider this act something akin to sexual assault at least. But more importantly, are his only options to be an absentee father or tied for life to a crazy woman? He could sue her for custody once the child was born, but what if he doesn't want a child yet? And if you don't want a child but aren't prepared to be a poor father figure does that mean you are simply out of options?

At no point am I claiming that anyone should be able to make a decision for another human being's body, but I'm disturbed by the ethical dilemma here. Disturbed because I refuse to accept "the man just doesn't count." While it is the woman's body that is gestating the child, the child is half his and will affect him for the rest of his life as it will her. To rule out any civil rights on his part seems as wrong as it is to rule out any civil rights on her part. To cut the man out of the conversation is to, in fact, cut out half of the conversation. This isn't a situation that concerns only her--the pregnancy yes, the actual raising of the child, no.

It would be different if they had sex, vaginally that is. But when engaging in oral sex there should be no chance of conception there. If a man has to consider any ejaculation in the presence of a female as possible means for a pregnancy what ramifications does that carry? Because the technology allowed for her to do what she did her pregnancy is unnatural to some degree to begin with. All-in-all I wouldn't say this is an easy question and I, surprise surprise, don't have an answer for you.

What I do know is this: an increase in civil rights for some cannot come at the loss of civil rights for others. I don't mean the loss of a white man's right to ride at the front of the bus, or a man's right to beat his wife. I wouldn't consider those things civil rights. But while concessions might have to be made, affirmative action, abortion resting solely in the hands of the woman, shouldn't we be looking forward to the next step? To a better solution? A time when race and class are no longer so connected and a man has a say in whether or not a child is born?

I know it won't ever be completely fair; after all, you can't ever make a woman carry a baby to term and I'm pretty sure you shouldn't ever make a woman abort a fetus, but shouldn't there be some legal ramifications for a woman stealing a man's sperm? Shouldn't he have some recourse?

That's as far as I've gotten. What there should be, but no idea what that "should" entails. I don't know that it matters exactly, it's just a thought resparked by a television show, but it bears consideration. I think sometimes in our rush to point out how men objectify women we forget that men objectify themselves as well. Who knew men were people too.

I didn't know if I was going to write tonight or not, but now it looks like I'm gonna. Heath Ledger died today and I was torn between mentioning it, not mentioning it, or just not writing. I guess I'll just say it is tragic and unexpected and move on.

The other topic that moved me to write was an article I saw on msn. I know, try to hold back your shock. The article is titled "Obesity Surgery May Cure Diabetes" and is found here http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/22787261/ Now, before you get irritated and close me down for ranting about obesity in America again I promise my problems aren't what you would think. Well, they are but not wholly.

It's become a pet peeve of mine that article titles strive to hook the readers, often with false information. The article labeling the new strain of staph as the new "gay disease" did it and now so does this one. In both articles it is clarified, in this case that the surgery doesn't cure all diabetes only particular types and that the study (which isn't much of a study yet) shows people who've undergone the surgery are five times more likely to cease needing diabetes medications than those participating in dietary plans. That's a lot different than surgery curing diabetes.

This bothers me because, frankly, the surgery bothers me. I consider Victorian women having ribs removed to make their waists look smaller, needing fainting couches because their corsets were too tight, Chinese women binding their feet and other beauty fads and wonder how history will look on our modern society of plastic surgery and obesity surgery. On the one hand I understand why the extremely obese might opt for surgery and even why it might be helpful or necessary. On the other hand it is mutilation of a body and that never sits well with me.

Often after having the surgery patients can't eat--subsisting on protein shakes for days they eventually move up to small portions of food that are very controlled as their stomach won't tolerate normal American-fare anymore. Perhaps to those who see fat people losing weight this all seems like a wonderful thing and I'm not arguing the principle of the matter, but the reality...what is truly accomplished by looking to surgery so quickly and completely? What does it mean that we would rather cut ourselves open and reform our stomachs than work with what we have? What does it mean that we would rather pay for one single operation that forces weight loss on the fat than offer acceptance of their obesity?

It's a simple question of self-mutilation. When I was a teenager I used to dream of the day they would invent a pill I could take that would turn me into Jessica Rabbit. Wouldn't that be spectacular I thought to myself? If I could just take a pill that would make my body what it was supposed to be then all the hot guys in high school would want me, and then I would be loved, and then I wouldn't be unhappy. Well now they've done it. It's not a pill, but it's almost as good. The only problem is, after surgery you have to be willing to starve for a little while until, like an anorexic, you are no longer hungry much of the time. Why the surgery? Why not just put the obese on the diet prescribed to post surgery patients? Because without cutting up the stomach it isn't doable? What does that tell us? What does that mean for how we're treating the patients?

In the end, what I'm getting at is this: we accept that the people who are marginalized are the cause of all our society's ills--the fat, the smokers, the immigrants. To that end we support whole-heartedly whatever our society does to deal with these problem-causing miscreants--loss of civil rights, mutilation, deportation. But we never stop to wonder if everything we're told is true, or if those we hate are just convenient targets. What has a fat person done to you lately really? Been unattractive? Sat next to you on a plane? Eaten your baby? Smokers I get, walking into a smoky restaurant is annoying and hard on non-smokers, sometimes even on fellow smokers. But what about bars that want to include smoking? What about people that like smoking or don't mind places where people smoke? We let the KKK gather peaceably, why can't smokers? And when is the last time you lost a job because an illegal immigrant swooped in and stole it from you? There you were, just dying for that phone call from MacDonald's but instead you stopped by and saw Paco sweeping out behind what should have been your counter! That's what I thought.

But hey, it's cool. Fat people need intervention or they wouldn't be fat, so the surgery is a good thing. And every dollar they cost the insurance company is a dollar you could have saved. But to that I have to ask, is that the fat person's fault, or the insurance companies? Is so much easier to hate and blame each other than it is to accept responsibility. This society we've created, this place that worships the holy dollar--is it really what we all thought it was when we were kids? Is anything really okay so long as it's "just business"? When did people cease to carry worth that couldn't be measured in loss/profits?

I've got a ten minute window so we'll see how much comes out. I'm back into the swing of school and that means my mind is once again contemplating the great thoughts of a contemplator (yes that sentence was on purpose).

While talking with a friend of mine today we were discussing the necessity of dress codes in the work place and also the freedom of stereotyping allowed in society due to said dress codes. This got me thinking about what it means to look "professional". People don't want to be served food by someone with piercings and companies don't want you to associate them with a receptionist covered in tattoos. I've long since stopped really questioning the right or wrongness of these actions since it all comes down to business. We hold the mighty dollar sacred in our capitalist society and justify some of our more egregious behaviors in the name of "business." In fact, we've excused ourselves with this for so long that we have stopped wondering if this is how "business" should be run.

If you said you don't want to be served your food by a black man or a Pakistani you would be called, rightfully, racist. If you said you don't want to see a waiter at a fine establishment spouting tattoos and piercings people would mumble understandingly. To some degree there is a difference in that you choose a tattoo or a piercing, but judging someone based on their appearance is still stereotyping. After all, what do you know about someone spouting tattoos or an eyebrow ring? What do those facial markers really tell you about the person?

But we are given the choice in our country of where to work. And so if choose to work for a company you choose to obey their dress code. If you don’t want to than you can choose to work elsewhere. This is all true. But we don’t allow racist shop owners to ask that their employees also be racist. So when an employers standards are ludicrous the government puts a stop to it. The question then becomes, are dress codes ludicrous or understandable? Does dress tell you something more about a person than that they know how to conform to standard strictures of society? I’m not sure that it does.

I’ve thought about this for most of the day now and I’m beginning to see how so many of our horrendous cultural behaviors, sexism, lookism, classism, have been driven from the popular discourse and forced into the refuge of the business world. Pretty people sell more so pretty people get hired more. It sucks, but that’s the way it is. But is that the way it should be? By allowing companies to enforce dress codes (speaking specifically of dress codes that have nothing to do with the job being done or inhibit said job) on their employees? Are we, as consumers, just perpetuating the stereotypes and more inhumane beliefs of our culture by continuously supporting this separation of people based on looks, dress, and actions?

I tell my students every semester that they will be judged on how they speak. I also dress “appropriately” for class and for job interviews. I understand the game; I conform. But what am I doing when I do so? I need a job, I don’t really, realistically that is, have the option of engaging in behavior that keeps me from employment. And, if I am forced to engage in specific behavior to achieve the means to support myself is it really a free choice how I dress and act?

This is still a thought process at work and I’m sure I will revisit it soon. In the meantime I offer this as food for thought. Is it really justification when it’s “just business”?

Vacation is over, school starts Tuesday and it's time for me to get back into the swing of things. I know for many of you there isn't much sympathy since your vacation ended the day after Christmas, and I'm not asking for any, just stating the obvious.

I've been a bit incognito the last two weeks--little email, fewer phone calls, and not much interaction with those I know. During that time I vacationed in the southwest like it was going out of style; I saw all of Las Vegas, some of it twice, L.A., San Diego, the Grand Canyon and more. As tired as I am now at the end of it all I am also rejuvenated, ready to enter back into the world at large. And I'm not unexcited for school to start, but neither do I relish the idea of hashing out my class, writing a syllabus, and beginning my next academic semester. I didn't really have a good first semester; it wasn't bad, but it wasn't my best. The question I'm faced with now is whether or not this semester will prove any different.

So what is the point of all of this rambling? Twofold--first to get back in the habit of blogging and second to try and find a thought that is worth rambling about. I'm not having very good luck.

In Thailand they seized a shipment of rat snakes from a plane, the second such shipment to be seized in the past year. I would like to point out the extreme negligence of the media in reporting that there are actually snakes on a plane--in fact, the very, very last thing I ever need to know is that snakes are ever shipped aboard a commercial flight. Very, very last thing I need to know.

Also there is a new strain of antibiotic resistant staph that is being labeled the new "gay disease". That one's a bit more disturbing since half-way through the article they finally acknowledge it isn't a "gay disease" at all, but the title and the first half of what is written doesn't make this clear. As a reporter you know people read the taglines for information, doesn't it seem a bit irresponsible to use a misleading, not to mention damaging, heading like that?

And I have finally seen both Evil Dead movies. I feel as if a large part of my movie education has been fulfilled now. It does behoove me to mention, however, that being raped by a tree, vines, or any other foliage is really uncool. It isn't as graphic and obvious in Evil Dead II and it was in Evil Dead, but that didn't make it less disturbing. I'm very anti rape by plant life. Aside from the wrongness of the situation there are other matters to consider like bark, little limbs sticking out on all sides, and possibly thorns. These are all issues a person doesn't have to worry about with normal rape, even rape of a demon variety. I can take tentacles, I can even take people, but don't be showing me possessed trees. Maybe the only thing worse than that is aliens.

Which brings to mind Aliens vs. Predator Requiem. In case some of you missed this masterpiece I really can't recommend you see it. It isn't all that good and it breaks the rules of horror movies for little more reason than the sake of breaking rules, something I'm never in support of. I thought of this because while no one is ever raped by the aliens in the traditional sense, there is some disturbing eating of one woman's uterus, and some even more disturbing use of a pregnant lady to hatch more aliens. This movie doesn't just kill kids, it kills babies and pregnant ladies. And it doesn't just kill the pregnant ladies (in labor no less) it corrupts their bodies and pregnancies to hatch more aliens (because of the predator/alien hybrid as seen at the end of the first AVP apparently has a completely different reproductive system). All of this could be very scary and very disturbing, but because there isn't really any point or reason to the decisions the writers or director makes it really just ends up being an exercise in horror movie masturbation. And to top it all off, in a moment which truly shows the ignorance of this movies education regarding women's bodies, the queen lays her eggs in the pregnant lady via the mouth and the aliens hatch out of her formerly fetus filled uterus. Aside from the ridiculousness of this scenario there is the very simple fact that women's digestive tracts don't connect to their reproductive system. Unless the director was figuring on the eggs somehow traveling through the placenta, but that's just dumb. Just like a stupid person to think that women are nothing but a giant cavity of emptiness waiting to be filled via vagina or mouth. I mock them all from afar and scoff at them for ruining what should have been a perfectly fun gore-filled adventure.

And that prompts me to jump to my last thought of this somewhat unconnected rambling--where have all the good action-horror movies gone? I'm not talking scary like The Ring or The Grudge or incredibly disturbing like Saw. I'm talking good old fashioned some thing monstrous kills a lot of people in a fairly entertaining, slightly frightening, but always ludicrous way. And the good guy wins. I miss those movies. I miss movies that sought to entertain, not always to disturb. And I miss movies that carried the capability of frightening the audience without permanently scarring the audience. Any more it seems the industry is more interested in the shock value, what can be shown that you would never want to see? What can be done to these characters that you'll wish you hadn't seen? How can the monsters do more than just kill people, but violate them as well? I see more and more of a trend that relies less on storytelling or really cool effects and much, much more, on grotesque images. That's just laziness.

Anyway, that's all I got right now. All I'm really doing is trying to put off schoolwork but the time has come. Next time I have a truly brilliant thought I'll do what I can to share it with you. Until then, same bat time, same bat channel.

I'm in a special place right now. I took in a double feature tonight with a viewing of Phantom at the Venetian followed up by a midnight viewing of Cloverfield. It was somewhat of an odd combination for shows I'll admit but they both carry a sort of survival theme to theme. That is, how would you survive if your life was threatened?

As to Phantom that's an easy one--I would totally die. We've already discussed this. I have horrible taste in men that happen to also be pathological murderers and so my survival instincts would do nothing for me in that case. But Cloverfield, that's a more interesting question to ponder.

I will do my best not to give away any parts of the movie so you need not worry about spoilers. I will say only this: I became very involved in the movie and acted nearly instinctually while still in my chair. I believe, therefore, that I could use my reactions as a starting point in guessing what I would do should a giant monster attack my city and threaten my life.

I have an amazing flight response. My need to survive astounds even me sometimes. It isn't that I fear death, and it isn't even my fear of pain (though my aversion to being killed has everything to do with the pain it will cause me and little to do with the death itself) but I have a nearly overwhelming need to survive. Maybe it's the writer in me; I want to live so that I can tell the story. Maybe it's because I genuinely like living and so want to continue for more than simple instinctual reasons. But, whatever the case, I would run like hell and do my best to get myself and my friends out of there.

Sometimes, however, you can't simply run. If you live in Manhattan, for example, you're on an island. Living in Las Vegas I would be totally screwed cause I'm in the middle of the desert. That's almost as good as living on an island. Also, if there are people in town you love you can't just leave them. Until you know for sure they are dead you need to attempt to get everyone out.

However, if someone is most likely dead when is it okay to leave them behind? I'm not sure I would want my friends to come back for me even though if they did and we all somehow survived that would be really awesome. I would probably go back for my friends, but not if I thought they were dead. But maybe so--my need to survive is tempered by my need not to be a complete and utter asshole. So when is an appropriate time to assume someone is dead?

These are all questions that plague me when considering attacked-by-giant-monster scenarios. I do take comfort, though, in the knowledge that the first thing I would do would be to grab a baseball bat or weapon of some kind. I really should get a bat--it's a handy thing to have in one's house, and perhaps an axe as well. Both are excellent weapons that suit my particular fighting abilities well. I'm not much of a swashbuckler, but I played softball and I know I could beat the crap out of something.

I think in the end, that I would find a good defensible position, several useful weapons, a stockpile of food and water, hole up and wait it out. This strategy would be useful for not only attacked-by-giant-monster scenarios, but also vampires, werewolves, zombies, and human mobs. I am still plagued by the question of whether or not I would leave my excellently defended position to come save my friends, however. It's hard to give up a safe place for possible certain death (if such a thing as "possible certain death" is possible) but if you don't go for your friend how do you live with yourself? And I know what everyone is thinking right now. You're all thinking "I would totally come for you Jess" but let's be honest, none of us actually know what we would do since we have yet to be attacked by a giant monster, and even if you did come for me there's no guarantee you would make it and what good does that do anyone?

Once, while watching The Day After Tomorrow the friend next to me turned during the scene everyone was freezing to death and starving and said, "you know if that happened I would kill you and eat you so as to survive." I was horrified, still am actually, but I appreciate his honesty. On the one hand it shows me that my taste in male friends is as horrible as my taste in male romances, but on the other hand it's comforting to know that I have a friend that concerned with survival. That shows me that, assuming I kept him from killing and eating me, if I stuck with him we could survive. And that's a comforting thought.

So there you have it, whatever "it" is. What would you do if the world ended tomorrow? And does one put a catch-all plan in place or do you try to work up a plan for different scenarios? It isn't an easy question and not one that will be answered any time soon. Perhaps I will work up a list of survival plans to share with you all. Then if I don't come back for you in the heat of things, at least you'll know what I'll be doing.

It's a special night my friends. Tonight we don't dine in hell. No, nor do we stop the forces of darkness from over-running the good and free peoples of Middle Earth. Tonight we gouge evil out of its shell. That's right. Gouge evil. Out of its shell. That is just one of many life changing quotes from my cinematic experience this evening.

I just saw In The Name Of The King and it is perhaps the greatest, most astounding piece of epic medieval sword-fighting cinema ever to grace that delicate silver screen since Dungeons and Dragons. I know it seems like a ludicrous claim to you, after all, nothing could be better than Dungeons and Dragons and in all honesty, until tonight, I thought nothing was. Except perhaps Kull the Conqueror. But In The Name of the King puts them all to shame.

This movie has sword fights, magic fights, and magic sword fights. This movie has a farmer known simply as "Farmer" because he believes "people should be known by what they do." This is only a piece of his wisdom, but you only need a piece of the wisdom because Farmer farms turnips and knows kung fu. How does he know kung fu? We don't know. It's inherent because he is a great man and all great men know kung fu. But more amazing than any of the fighting or the magic, or the fantastic dialogue...is Burt Reynolds. That's right. Burt Reynolds plays the king. Why is Burt in this movie? I don't know--maybe he was bored, maybe he was hard up for cash, maybe he was inspired by the script.

But the cast doesn't stop at Burt Reynolds. There is John Rhys-Davies, Ron Perlman, Leelee Sobrieski, and the incomparable Ray Liotta. Ray Liotta who is dressed like Liberaci for most of the movie, and carries all the evil weight of a magic card player gone bad. I'm confused as to how this movie came to be. It perplexes me how these people were talked into starring in it. Did some say it would be like Willow? It would be if there was a midget and it was good. At times they seem to steal footage from LOTR, not to mention the battle between the old mages at the end that doesn't just bring Obi-Won and Darth Vader to mind, but very nearly plagiarizes the scene from of Obi-Won's death.

But I laughed--I laughed through the whole thing. And the really weird part was the music wasn't half bad. But it didn't always fit the mood exactly, and often times was so sweepingly melodramatic that you felt like the movie must be a comedy. In fact, as a comedy it almost works. I would buy it as a spoof of a swords and sorcerers movie. But as a serious movie? While it does get better as the movie progresses it doesn't get that good. You get the impression that Burt Reynolds isn't laughing in some scenes because it's in the script, but very specifically because he can't keep a straight face.

And I really shouldn't forget Matthew Lilliard. He is the star of this little production. He plays the sniveling, backstabbing nephew to perfection, even going so far as to produce flying spittle in multiple scenes. It's a thing of beauty and he really does a lot to make the movie incredibly enjoyable.

It was a good time. I feel like anytime I'm presented a story set in a medieval world where my hero is a scimitar wielding, boomerang throwing, kung fu farmer named Farmer I can't help but be entertained.

I had planned multiple times over this weekend to share many life changing moments with you. I've been to L.A. and San Diego. My car has officially driven coast to coast, and I have been in the Pacific Ocean now along with the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico. I've seen the Hollywood sign and talked taken a stress tests from scientologists. It's been a busy weekend and I've got another week of fun before things calm down. But I give instead of all of that this musing on In The Name of the King.

Go now and gouge evil from its shell.

I apologize for my laxness these past weeks. I've been vacationing you see. Granted said vacation has been happening in Vegas, but since I have yet to really "do it up" as it were, myself and my guest have been touring like only mad tourists can. And it is a shame for I have much to talk about--Donnie Darko, Freedom Writers, I Am Legend. All of these things deserve to be considered and I have considered none of them. I actually started a post on the flight back here and thought to entertain you all with thoughts thousands of feet in the sky, but I'm not sure how those thoughts are going to be reformulated later.

I thought I would first remark that the "balls in face" scene from Borat was incredibly funny and I wouldn't say anyone was weird that liked it. Would I willingly walk into it again? I don't know. But I did laugh and upon retrospect it seems less disturbing. That could also be because something inside of me has broken and will never heal right again.

Also, it occurs to me today after having visited some of the western mountains around the valley that if I could live outside Las Vegas in the mountains I think I might be happier with my situation. I would be more cut off from everything, and should zombies attack less likely to survive, but it is beautiful there. Absolutely gorgeous, and while it is still a desert, it doesn't feel dead. It's vibrant and alive. The mountains are magnificent, craggy, towering, and unforgiving. The grays blend into amazing reds, oranges, browns, and sometimes yellows. Right now snow litters the peaks and the plant life abounds in shades of green, yellow, and sometimes red. All in all, it doesn't feel so false, so needy, as the city itself. Vegas sucks the life out of you, bit by bit, it makes you hard. In the constant struggle to stay alive, stay who you are, stay normal all the softer parts of you have to be tucked away and protected. Out in the mountains life wouldn't be easier because the mountains are as unforgiving as the desert valley is, but the civilization itself, the place where I would make my home if I lived out there isn't based on neon, gambling, and false hope.

I'm desensitized to sex billboards and flashy signs and people who try to sell me stuff as I walk by. I don't even notice homeless people like I used too. I'm less self-aware, but more self-conscious at the same time. Vegas demands that you accept it. It demands that you be aware of it all the time. It's a strange sensation, almost like another world, certainly its own country. I like it more now than I did before Christmas, but while I feel less claustrophobic, at least for the moment, I have no idea where this coming semester will take me. Living my life as a student/teacher I find my year has become broken up into sixteen week chunks. What's most scary about that is that everything changes so much each semester and so now I look on with trepidation not only because I have more work to do, papers to grade, write, and texts to read, but also because I know I will continue to change. And I think maybe, because I've changed so much since I started this back to school adventure two and a half years ago, that I would really like to just have a simple semester.

How egotistical does that sound? Maybe it doesn't make sense at all. But I wasn't ready to talk about any of the aforementioned movies and did feel I needed to get back in the habit of sharing thoughts so this is what you get. This is all part of my continued attempt to understand the land that is Las Vegas and my place within it. It continues to amaze me how much of it still is "the Wild West" in a true sense of the phrase and maybe it's all as simple as me just trying to find my place within it. I am, after all, just a farm girl--even if I didn't grow up on a farm.

So I think that's a good place to start the year. It's inquisitive. It is without resolution because I despise New Year's resolutions. But I might share some pictures of the mountains so that you all might understand. Or you can just come to Vegas and see for yourself. I recommend that.