Happy Halloween!

My favorite holiday... today on campus I saw someone dressed as a giant Pikachu.

Allow me to explain...

Many of you have heard me declare, time and time again, that I'm not ever getting married, nor do I have any desire to. And then I'm confronted with a barrage of skepticism and sarcasm, ranging from the unfathomable, "What?! You don't want to get married?" to the dismissive, "Oh, you'll get married some day." And this is what I have to say in response:

First of all, marriage is a completely cultural institution. Are humans even naturally monogamous? Do we truly just seek one mate for the rest our lives? Well, those of you who have taken a few psych or anthropology courses know that there is persuasive evidence that suggests that in terms of parental investment, it makes perfect sense for a woman to be with only one man for the rest of her life. Since it is the traditional male duty to physically and financially care for his partner and their offspring, the woman can thus ensure that she and her children are provided for, and so it makes biological sense for her to have one partner for the duration of her life. But look at it from the male biological perspective: if the ultimate goal of humanity is to reproduce, then men should theoretically be with as many partners as they can, sowing their seed far and wide. Times have changed, though, and women are fully capable of providing for themselves, and so this sense of dependency is greatly diminished (sorry, boys). You could, of course, argue that humans are much more complex than their simple, biological urges, and that monogamy is a manifestation of the human capacity to love.

That being said, love is multidimensional, it's amorphous, and it's dynamic-- one's relationship with love comes in a variety of forms, as do the people and things that we, as individuals, love and are loved by. So let me pose this question: why, then, does romantic love have to be the only source of lifetime fulfillment? Why can't family, friends, and community take that place? I believe that if you have a strong support system, you can lead a perfectly fulfilling life sans spouses.

What my defense boils down to is not some oversung feminist rant about the virtues of being a woman (though I could just as easily supply this if requested)-- rather, my sentiments toward marriage can be summed up as such: I don't need a life partner to make me happy. As long as I have a strong support system consisting of my family and friends, I don't see the need to commit myself to someone for the rest of my life. To me, marriage is not about "till death do us part." At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I see the very act of marriage as a form of death-- a slow demise of one's individuality and one's sense of self. The concept of interdependence has never really appealed to me. I'm not saying that people who get married are weak, or that every married couple morphs into a single identity (a la TomKat and Brangelina), but many do. Maybe this sounds selfish, but I could never abandon my goals or my dreams simply to conform to the expectation that I should commit my soul to someone for the rest of my life. I'm not scared of dying alone, or even of being lonely-- I have a much deeper fear of time running out to accomplish everything that I want to. And that, my friends, is why you will never see a ring on my finger.

Winning...

...feels awesome. Due to my marginal victory over Nick at the Dawg Dash 5K, I officially am off the hook for a weekend-long Lord of the Rings movie marathon. Nick, on the other hand, has to watch two full seasons of Veronica Mars, with no other Netflix rentals until he's done. Ah, victory is sweet-- even if it's only in the form of a 25-second lead.

Check out the results.

Teacher Marisa

So I'm in a ninth grade Language Arts class this week, and tomorrow I get to teach my first lesson! I'm doing a quick review of the parts of speech through a Mad Lib and then dividing the class into groups so they can come up with a quick commercial to advertise a mysterious object that they will randomly select from a bag. In their commercial, they're required to correctly use as many vocab words as they can. It should be fun (I hope). We'll see how it goes tomorrow...

Blog Banners

Just to give credit where it's due, thanks to Nick for creating my previous blog banner and thanks to my little sis Hannie for creating my current blog banner. They either really love me (or my blog) or have too much time on their hands (I'm guessing it's the latter).

Back to High School Part II

This week I'm back at another high school-- except this time, instead of just sitting in the back of the classroom observing everything the teacher does and taking copious notes, I'll actually be involved in more of a teacher role. And, I get to teach my first lesson this week! I won't find out what the lesson will be about until I talk with my supervising teacher, and I don't even know what grade classroom I'm in-- but I guess tomorrow I'll find out everything. The weirdest thing about all this is being called "Miss." That's definitely gonna require some getting used to.

Somethin' smells funky...

There are certain common courtesies you come to expect once you reach adulthood, and in particular within the walls of a campus building at an expensive private university. Could someone please tell me, then, why the women's bathroom on the third floor of the College of Education constantly smells like a giant turd? Assuming that it is predominantly adult females who use the bathroom, and a relatively small number of them at that, why must a perenially disgusting, I-just-took-a-crap-and-stunk-up-the-whole-damn-bathroom odor infiltrate the entire restroom? And who the hell is taking a dump at 9:30 in the morning? I'm paying $30,000 for tuition-- I don't think I'm asking too much for $1.50 of that sum to go toward the purchase of a Glade scented oil plug-in, or a bottle of Febreze.

Making whoopee across the way

On Friday night, directly across from my apartment complex, I walked past a foggy, steamed up car and saw only the shadowy silhouettes of two people totally going at it. It was highly reminiscent of the infamous scene in Titanic, where Rose and Jack get it on in the back of a car somwhere in the bowels of the ship and Leo, all trembling and sweaty, reaches up to make a handprint on the fogged up window.

V-Mars by the numbers

"Wow, Marisa, you must be pretty busy with school and homework."

Well, to some extent...but I can't honestly say that my free time has been entirely devoted to furthering my education. Here's a look at what I've been up to when I'm not in class:

Veronica Mars: I watched a total of 44 episodes in 31 days, or, in other words, two full seasons in one month. That averages out to about 1.5 episodes a day, or approximately 66 minutes of solid V-Mars time. I spent, on average, 15% of my total waking hours watching the show. This does not include the amount of time spent re-watching favorite scenes, staring at images paused on the TV, and daydreaming/thinking about the show.

Multiple intelligences (or lack thereof)

Earlier this week, in my educational psych class, we took a little survey in order to figure out which of Gardner's "8 multiple intelligences" we showed strength in. I found that I'm very linguistically and musically-inclined, but I have essentially no bodily-kinesthetic or spatial intelligence. My defecits were further corroborated by the fact that I melted my contact lens in a puddle of hot water in the sink yesterday morning after accidentally dropping it, and then later that afternoon spastically flailing my arm and hitting a pillow which consequently tipped over a full glass of water, splattering it onto the floor. I repeat: no bodily-kinesthetic or spatial intelligence.

I guess I do live in the city

I know Seattle isn't the biggest city, but occasionally I have those moments where I am reminded that yes, I do in fact live downtown. Case in point: the other day I was leaving for school when, as soon as I stepped out the front door of my apartment building, saw that the street was roped off with police tape. Apparently there'd been a bomb threat at the abortion clinic across the street from my place. Great...

Do I look like I smoke? No, seriously...

Within the past week I have been approached twice and asked if I had a cigarette. Honestly, do I look like I smoke? I'm personally a little offended. Though in all fairness, I'm also mildly encouraged that I at least look like I'm old enough to buy cigarettes.

Yes, Mr. Cashier, those Superman fruit snacks are for my five-year-old

I went grocery shopping earlier this evening (which I absolutely detest, in spite of my undying love for food and eating in general, because I find it to be too overwhelming and stressful). Anyway, as I was approaching the checkout line, I glanced into my shopping cart and took a quick inventory of my food. Here's what I saw: a box of Fruit-by-the-Foot, two boxes of Fruit Roll-Ups (Berry Blast flavor, no less), a Spider-Man box of Kraft macaroni and cheese, a box of GoGurt with a big picture of Shaggy and Scooby-Doo on it, and some Froot Loops (family-size, I think). What the heck is this? Is this what I seriously eat? I think all that was missing from my shopping cart was a pack of Pampers and a Dora the Explorer coloring book.