Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Dear OK Cupid

A lot of you already know that I've been playing around on Twitter a lot, because I love Twitter. I mean, I love it more than almost anything. There is so much WEIRD on there, like Dogs Doing Things  or Death E-Books or Harry Finch. Twitter is where all the odd people go to babble surreal nonsense into the void and hope it comes back as prophecy, it's basically a bunch of Cylon hybrids all hooked up into the nets and screaming. It's a living breathing subconscious death trip. Also, there was that time the tsunami ate Japan? And I was up late at night watching it live with a million little icons chattering away about it, and it was a social high like you've never felt before, disaster and immediacy and man, I feel bad if you're not using Twitter correctly and all you've got in your feed is a bunch of friends and food trucks.

So my own very inferior contributions are BridgetCallahan and Dear OK Cupid. The latter is my ongoing conversation with the insanity demon that is free online dating, and since I worked on writing samples all day for other things and haven't got a lick left in me for the blog, I'm just going to give you some of my thoughts about that whole Vortex of Inferiority Complexes with some cut and paste. Whatever, it's the day after VDay, you are all bitter anyway, even the happy ones. We are romantically hungover. We need to drink some orange juice.


Dear Ok Cupid: "Staff Robot thinks you'll like them." Staff Robot sucks at this game.


Dear OK Cupid: Why do they keep asking if I like black guys? Does my profile pic look racist?


Dear OK Cupid: Once upon a time there was a guy who wrote ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT in his profile, in all caps, all by itself.


Dear OK Cupid: The more obscure the bands you put on your profile, the more I assume you cannot drunk fuck.


Dear OK Cupid: If you list Pulp anywhere on your profile, then I know all you DO is drunk fuck.


Dear OK Cupid: when I see that someone in the bathroom at the bar has been cutting their pubic hair cause it's on the floor? I think of you.


Dear OK Cupid: how about a sister site where all members' profile pics have to be of the last person who bothered to love them?


Dear OK Cupid: how about if I ignore or stop replying to someone, you have them killed so I never have to run into them at a bar ever?


Dear OK Cupid: If you are a middle aged white guy who's into Zen Buddhism, you might as well just say "divorced".


Dear 22 yr old Hook Up Artist: Maybe you are shirtless because you are trying to guilt me into buying you a shirt? In which case...smart.


Dear OK Cupid: How about a feature where you offer to sleep with someone only after they complete 3 dares of your choosing?


Dear OK Cupid:So you listen to "everything"? You'll like my friends band. Experimental noise rock on Casio with Korean lyrics & cat samples.


Dear OK Cupid: I'm no longer talking to boys who have numbers in their profile names. I think you're all robots.


Dear OK Cupid: Is it okay to run promotions for myself, like "If you buy me drinks, I'll let you talk about The Hobbit"?



Dear OK Cupid: I had a nightmare that you started to allow people to post videos on their profiles.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Sex in Motion


I had two things happen in the last 24 hours that had me contemplating sex. No, nothing like that. And if that kind of stuff happened, I don't talk about that here.

 The first trigger was I met a guy over the weekend, a friend of a friend, one of those very lucky people who has sexual charisma just glowing from him. I had met him briefly before, in a sort of hi, who are you, how are you, nice to meet you sort of way. And in that first drive by I had seen what my friend had told me about him, saw how he could very well be the kind of guy who could get any girl he chose to. He's cute, but he's not like, super model boy. It's never super models who have this power anyway, it wouldn't work if they looked perfect. This time I got to observe him at a party, and actually talk to him, and the way he did it came through clearly. He made eye contact. He paid attention. He gave everyone attention, he touched your hands, shoulders, back. He stood close to people. He asked them things sincerely. He was quite wonderful, and it was pleasant even to watch him flirting with a girl, because it was so seamless and smooth, it was just how he treated all people around him. I told my friend this guy was the Incarnation of Flirt, a real witch. I meant it in jest, but it's true nonetheless.

 I've met a few people who have this Glow, the ones who ARE sexual in every aspect of their being, so that there is no strain or falsity to their interactions. I've dated two of them. I think a long time ago, I had that power myself for a minute, but I let it fall apart during a long relationship, and it's gone for now, I just don't have enough attention to give to others like that, I no longer care enough. I find I only have it with people I've already known for a while. Now I just appreciate watching others practice it. I was going to write you a list of the sexiest people I knew in real life, the people who when you look at them it's impossible to not think of things that are illegal in Missouri, who make you feel that you would be immediately comfortable with them in bed and with anything they did. But I hate the word sexy so much, I couldn't get past it. If you call it mojo, I will stop talking to you immediately, don't do it. Charisma sounds like a word boys came up with to call it when they meant it about another boy but didn't want to seem gay. It's just, this thing, you know when you see it, or when it stands close next to you. It's beautiful, the Pure Flirt.

 Anyone who thinks being sexual has anything to do with your actual plain straight of the box attractiveness is an idiot, and you should never sleep with someone who thinks that, they are terrible in bed. Pretend we are all dolls, deactivated and lying still in a showcase. In that scenario, then sure there are the pretty people and ugly people. But once you put in the batteries in, well then it depends on who keeps themselves charged up best.

 The second trigger was that I went to go see Pina, a film which is a collection of dance pieces by this choreographer I had never heard of, because I'm not the sort of person who knows choreographers. The film had faults, but the dances were amazing, and I had a revelation about the experience of watching modern dance. I think when I had seen performances prior to this, I was looking at the dancers' bodies as moving sculptures, visual art. But sitting in the theater with my silly 3D glasses on and wrapped up winter clothes, I finally understood that modern dance is supposed to be about physical empathy. That when the dancer stretches their legs, or writhes on the stage, flips and flies and stomps, you are supposed to feel that motion in your own bones. As if it is your own skin against skin, your own muscles pulling and chest heaving with breath, your own toes on that cold floor. I could feel the water splashing, and the smell of the studio's glass and concrete, how that wisp of transparent cloth would feel on my torso. I don't know, maybe this choreographer in particular was just that good, maybe the dance company was that good, but it worked. I get it.

 If you're looking for something to do on Valentine's night, I suggest this movie. Because it makes you want to be physical, to really use your body, and you'll come out of that theater into the dark February ice feeling keenly every movement you now make and the textures of your own clothes will feel heavy and burdensome. What could be a better feeling for the end of a date? Certainly not an expensive dinner, or a box of chocolates, or even some half thought out promises. Real romance is this, the connection between bodies, this transcending of judgement and perfection. When you can just be yourSelf, not the self you catalogue in dating profiles or even private diaries. A Self that is your body and mind working together, unaware of fear or expectation. We call it raw, but it isn't some newborn scar of red and pink, it's a whisp of clear elemental, air or water or dirt depending on who you are. I hesitate to call it familiarity, though that would be the easiest way to say it. Maybe familiarity with everything in the universe, yourself, others, things, feelings, that strong comfortable familiarity with the entirety of creation. Imagine how you were in bed with your longest term lover, in the mornings, on your best days, when you stayed in bed for hours just moving your limbs around each other. Now imagine if you felt that way all the time, about everybody. You would be the most powerful person on the planet.

It would figure I would be my most spiritual only when talking about sex.



 Other Valentine's Day posts:
  Cleveland is my Valentine
Happy Valentine's Day, St. Valentine!

Friday, February 10, 2012

Plastic Wrapped Girl




"What is that?" his friends asked, pointing towards the large metal box that sat at his side next to the bar. It was strangely not sinister looking, though person sized and being a large person sized metal box at a bar should have been inherently sinister. The metal was a soft burnished gray, rubbed down and kitten colored. 

"That's just something I bring with me, in case there aren't any girls at the bar." They all laughed. 

"Well there's certainly no one good here," his friend glanced bitterly at a group of young butterfly girls at the other end of the bar, one of whom had decisively shrugged him off by the bathrooms. 

"I don't know, it's early. You never know who might show up."
"Whatever dude, just do it."
"Well, okay...give it a minute to warm up," he said as he pressed a button on his key fob. A little red light glowed on the door. They had another beer. 

Ten minutes later, the light flicked off, and he unsealed the door. Inside was a figure nested tightly in a cocoon of plastic wrap. He carefully, affectionately, unwrapped her. 

She was a nice looking girl, average height, average build. Her shoulder length hair was brown, her clothes were casual, a cardigan and jeans, so average. But when she opened her eyes, they were a deep warm hazel, and when she smiled she suddenly became very pleasant looking. She reminded every boy there of their 1st grade teacher.

She was visibly confused for a minute, her eyes darting over the scene around her in animalistic fright, and then she saw him. She clung to his eye contact like a life preserver. "Hi! How are you? I haven't run into you for a while. How are things?"

"Oh, they're good. Just out with these guys. Worked today. How are you?"

"I'm peachy. Just had dinner with the girls, cause Sarah, you know Sarah who works over at Eastwick? She just got engaged, so we had to do the whole listen to her blab about it thing, look at the ring, ect. I don't know where they all are right now, but they should be back..." and she glanced around again as if unsure where she was exactly. 

"Would you like a drink?"
"Oh um yeah, ginger and Jameson. And actually, I'll be right back, I have to make a phone call. But I'll be right back." She walked off towards the bathrooms, stiffly and slowly, peering around at people surprised, remembering how to move her legs. 

"DUDE"
"No, c'mon, it's not a big deal."
"But doesn't she get upset?"
"No, she doesn't know. I met her at this other thing, and you know, she's cute and we've got a ton of stuff in common, I really like talking to her. But she's not exactly hot. And she's older than I usually like them. But I figured, what if in 5 years I still haven't found someone better? You know, when I'm ready for something like that. But she would be even older then, or she might have met someone. So this way, she just stays exactly the same. And I manufactured a bunch a memories for her, so it's just like she's been living her life for real. Cause otherwise, you know, she'd be so boring."
"What are you going to do with her if you do meet someone?"
"I don't know. Probably keep her around until I know it's going to work out. And if it does, then I guess I would just let her go."
"You should totally give her to me."
"Dude, don't be a dick. I can't just *give* her to someone."
"No, I know, it would be weird. But you could let me have a chance with her."
"Whatever, you're totally not her type."

She came back from the bathrooms. The brief panicked look was off her face and she had reapplied her lipstick.
"It's so weird, my phone isn't working. Also, did you see Krista over there? She looks so much older, I don't think that new hairstyle is doing her any favors. I...I...I wonder where the girls ran off to..." He handed her the drink and turned away from the boys to talk with her, putting his hand on her shoulder and leaning in, as if they were the best of friends. 

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp

I don't know, I feel weird pimping stuff on this blog, because everyone I know is trying to sell something or sell themselves or pitching events, and it's like dude, this is not that kind of blog. So I feel like if I mention some of my friends shit, but don't mention others, people are going to have hard feelings. And this is Not That Kind of a Blog. It's not a tame blog. I don't have some sort of plan here folks, or theme, or whatever. I love ending sentences with "whatever". But these are all February-centric things, so maybe that's sort of a theme? This is exhausting already.

Listen, here are some things you should do because I like these people a lot:

1) Donate money to this Kickstarter project: Nightingale by Cath Gulick


Cath is a girl I went to high school with. She was the weird Quaker girl in the army jacket who listened to British bands, and totally got As in everything. She is also one of the smartest people I know when it comes to narrative. She has been literally killing herself in NYC trying to make this movie, so much so that probably someone should have made a movie about her trying to make this movie. No, I'm not joking. Like living in squalor and eating rice to make this film. So if you can send 10 or 15 bucks her way to get this fucking thing done, please do it. Because I'm relying on her to get successful, so I can ride on her coattails. 


I first met Erin when she won a Lit Award for her blog, and I went up to her all shy and was like "heeey, I'm Bridget, I read your shit, congratulations" and she knew who I was! I can't tell you how much love and support Erin has given me for my blog. She wrote an article about me. She even wrote me a goddamn letter of reference for colleges. So I owe her. Also the book is really good, and really funny, and SWEET in a way that is very particularly Cleveland Sweet. ALSO her publishing company is a local start up Red Giant Books, so hey Support them and Maybe Someday they will Publish Me. Below is a quote from the book. I'm not gonna lie, I took it from her site because with no context at all, it's even better and also I didn't have to retype anything. 

"Any consenting adult is duly encouraged to use any vegetable matter as a marital aid. Please carefully consider the following guidelines for a safe, convenient and enjoyable experience. Choose firm, high quality organically grown products. Wash vegetable matter first. Carving/peeling vegetable matter into realistic shapes can make the experience whimsical and more satisfying. Any person who has used the vegetable matter as a marital aid is welcome to consume the vegetable matter after a thorough washing (of vegetable matter). DO NOT, however, serve the vegetable matter in question to parties who are unaware of the vegetable matter's previous employ, no matter how thoroughly they have been washed. Said practice is considered uncool. "




Since I pimped out those two (they deserve it, give them money), I might as well mention all this other stuff happening this month too.

3) Come to  Brite Winter 2012 

You should already know about it, but I feel like too many people have been asking me when it is, SO HERE YOU GO Not this Saturday but the NEXT. Plan on it. Buy a mug from their website and get some free liquids.



BRITE WINTER: Saturday, February 18, 2012, 5-10pm Ohio City (W26th and Bridge Ave)
 Cleveland’s Third Annual Winter, Art, and Music Celebration:
The community-organized BRITE WINTER festival takes place at West 26th    and Bridge Avenue, in Ohio City, on Saturday February 18th from 5-10pm. Entrance is free and open to the public.

4) Come to Pechakucha this Friday

There are two reasons to come to this event: 1) Almost every single new person I've met in the past year has been to one of these, which is to say all the coolest most interesting people in town show up. 2) You never know what you're going to learn about, or who, or if you're just going to see me and my friends doing shots (that happened at the Higbee one). Oh and 3) It's free.

WHAT: PechaKucha Night Cleveland - Volume 14
WHO: Public (anyone interested in any variety of the topics listed above)
WHERE: House of Blues Cleveland, Main Music Hall
WHEN: February 10th, 2012
7:00pm - Doors Open (and of course the bars open)
8:20pm - Presentations Begin
9:10pm-9:30pm - Beverage Break
9:30pm-10:30pm - Presentations
10:30pm-?? - Music and Beverages
HOW MUCH: FREE (cash/credit bar)

 Other Things Happening in Town You Can Check Out:

Cash Mobs - an ongoing event put together by my friend Andrew, who has been getting a ridiculous amount of press for it.

Love Lounge - This girl Elana pretty much knows every decent single person in town by now. Also my sister will be there, since she made some list of Sexiest Cleveland Singles. So I can promise, if you come, Carrie will hit on you.

Fundraiser and Film Screening for my friend Erin's organization Drink Local Drink Tap. The film is about their recent trip to Uganda designing a project to bring clean drinking water to a local school there. That's cooler than anything you've done in your life ever.  Hey guess what? She did a Pechakucha presentation at one of the events I did. Also I met her through Cash Mobs Andrew. ALL THESE THINGS CONNECT.





Monday, February 6, 2012

5 Rules for Living

1. Never get into a fight with a Brazilian who is at least a foot taller than you. 

Sure you are tough. I'm sure you're really tough. Tough like a fucking horse made of nails. You asshole, you probably get drunk and then secretly talk to your girlfriend about how you could have totally taken that guy. Hey, maybe you could have, maybe among your social circles you are actually the biggest and strongest and if so good for you cause that's hot.

A 7ft tall Brazilian is not to be fucked with though. I don't care if he spits on your girlfriend. No wait, actually I do, you should totally fight him then. But with the knowledge you will lose. Because his knees will come up to your waist, and he'll just kick you over and over again until your pancreas explodes and you fall to the ground spitting blood. I could lie to you and tell you that girls will still love you if you don't get back up, and just lie there submitting. That there's another kind of nobility in admitting you can't win and getting out early. Maybe there are some much smarter more rational more evolved girl creatures out there who would still respect you. I am not one of them. If you start the goddamn fight, you better keep going until you win or you get knocked out and lie there in a pool of your own blood tinged spittle. I will respect you for trying and losing horribly. I will respect you sussing out a situation and retreating before things come to blows. I won't respect you for getting involved and then trying to back out of it once you realize you are bleeding and you might get hurt.

Which is why you shouldn't get in the fight in the first place. Or pick them very very carefully. Because people like me are horrible, but we're watching.

2. Remember the Rule of Numbers before you curse out that car who didn't use it's turn signal. 

The Rule of Numbers is that there are so many people on this planet, a very large portion of them must be pretty similar to you.

Sure, we like to complain that everyone in the world has lead poisoning, and should not be able to have children or a drivers license or vote. And yes, there are some incredibly stupid people out there. You may have met one or two of them. But they do not constitute everyone at the grocery store or everyone at your workplace. You are not smarter than everyone else. You are not in the top fifth percentile of having your shit together mentally.

I've never had a car accident. Do you know how many times I've almost had an accident though? A LOT. So when I was driving down 65th today, and this SUV braked suddenly and then turned without signaling, I had zero right to say "mother fucker" out loud. Maybe it didn't hurt anyone cause no one heard it, but maybe also I was passing through some sort of Curse Sensitive Zone in Time and Space, and my cursing unnecessarily caused an orphanage in India to collapse. WE DO NOT KNOW. What I do know is it's extremely unlikely that poor woman fucks her mother. She might be a totally fine driver every other day. Most people are, which is why we aren't all being killed in car accidents all the time and traffic is basically predictable. The majority of people are decent drivers.

There are also like 17 million cars on the road at any given time. So with that many drivers, it is almost a given that .25 of them are having bad driving days. And are going to make a small mistake, like almost passing the road they meant to turn down and having to make the turn super quickly without using their signal. Like you yourself have done twenty thousand times.

So chill out, relax, stop being so quick to completely condemn a stranger because they do one stupid thing in front of you.

But if they do it twice, kill them.

3. Do not use words that are not verbs as verbs.

For instance, the word Bone.

"But Bridget, doesn't it become a verb as soon as I decide to use it that way, and don't you agree with total creative freedom to shape language, something you are guilty of at least three times a day?"

No. I don't care if I fucking do it too, it's horrible.

Also not a verb: Workout.


4. Keep the age limits on your dating life to within 7 years of your own age. 

I don't know why 7, but it works. In my case, it would mean I shouldn't date anyone younger than 25 or older than 39. That's totally true.

Obviously you all want to argue exceptions, people who have gotten together with a guy 20 years their senior or 10 years younger than them. Whatever, I don't know those people, I don't know what's wrong with them. It's a pretty safe bet for me to say something is, because every couple is basically super fucked up in at least one way. So if I wanted to be a real dick, I could just start listing off what must be wrong with them, and like any good roadside psychic, something I throw out there will be right and correct. I'm not gonna cop out like that though. I just think if you are dating with an extreme age gap, then there is a very big separate issue happening. Rescuing, escaping, ect. Doesn't mean you don't love each other I guess, doesn't mean you can't be happy. But exceptions only work once a situation has actually happened. In the meantime, we need to speak in generalities to help ourselves out. And in general, you are not going to be happy dating someone who doesn't remember the same Saturday morning cartoons as you, or has yet to have a heating bill in their name, or whose daughter was only a year behind you in high school.

Also, the Rule of Numbers does not apply to people below 23. They are all emotional morons. It's like we were all little blind kittens until 24, 25, and then we were finally able to open our eyes to the existence of other people not just as things which feed us but actual empathetic individuals. Which means for you Oh Intrepid Philanderer, first of all, you are just sleeping with them to make yourself feel better, and second, if you really want to keep them around (sucker. SUCKER.), you are going to have to put up with at least three years of frustrating selfish stupidity before anything changes, and even then it's a crap shoot, because lots of people just suck for a long time. Sucker.

I guess this is just a very good rule for filling out an online dating profile.

5. Do not refer to the Energy of the Universe.

When people talk about the Universe's Plan for them, or tapping into the wisdom of the Universe, of becoming one with the flow of the Universe, I want to slap them. The Universe is not some soft happy ample hippie mother's bosom, which will make you tea and listen to you cry about your ex boyfriend. If that were the case, cows would be the dominant species on this planet. But they're not. We are. Because we were the best predators. The Universe prefers predators. In fact, if you wanna think of this whole God thing as the Universe, or the Universe as God or WHATEVER, and you're going with that whole Made Man in His/Her Image ect, then the Universe is the most bloodthirsty horrible leering tooth and claw creature ever and that's what we're modeled after. The Universe eats it's young, and not just cause they are sick, but because it WANTS to. It licks it's lips and tastes murder. So yeah sure, go ahead, call on the Universe for guidance. Just pray the Universe doesn't hear you, or see any sudden movements, because if it notices you it will rend you from head to toe, without even thinking about it. The Universe doesn't think, it just kills and eats. It is a monster hurtling through existence and you should just stay very very still and for heaven sakes don't TRY to get it's attention unless you have a very big gun.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Looking at Factories Does Weird Things to Me


This is how I know I am a great girlfriend, but would make a terrible mom. The old cat went on a piss rampage last night, pissed in every single spot that Young Cat likes to hang out in. As I was stuffing ammonia soaked workout pants and childhood blankets into garbage bags, I was furious. When I was done, and settled on the couch to watch Sherlock, Old Cat came over looking for love, and I had very little in my heart for her at the moment, but I cuddled her anyway. Because she's a cat. She acted out because she was angry, like a 2 yr old bites. If I were to yell at her or try and punish her? She's not going to get it, the two events won't be connected in her mind at all, she'll just be more upset. So I just loved her. But also, see she doesn't know this part, I'm making plans to give her away to a home where she'll be happier. So the lesson is, I won't yell at you, I'll put up with you until an opportune moment to give you away. You can give boys away, but you can't give children away.

 The no yelling part is a development for me. I used to yell all the time. Now I understand that if you're doing something that warrants me yelling at you, you are actually just distracting me from paying attention to things that aren't you.

 The other day some friends and I went by the Ford complex, to look at the demolition of one of the plants. Whenever I go peeking around someplace I'm not really supposed to be, I like to have a cover story in my pocket. I've never had to use one, but the most convincing lie is the one you've already thought up. There were big signs all over the fence about not taking photos, so I imagined a scenario where I told the cops that my boyfriend's grandfather used to work at the plant, and he's in a nursing home now, so I was just taking photos to show him because we try to keep him interested in things, or encourage him to talk about his life. I don't have a boyfriend, and there is no mythical grandfather (I say mythic, because I've never had a grandfather and I can't even imagine what THAT whole thing is like), and also I don't know that showing an old dying man pictures of the place where he worked for forty years being torn down is exactly an altruistic maneuver.

 But, as it happens with stories I make up, I thought a lot about what this fake grandfather's life might have been like. Working in the Ford plant is a pretty awesome job to get, particularly in Cleveland. The entire city of Brookpark was built up by guys working at the Ford plant, and the Tank plant, and their families who would save up for above ground pools in the backyard, and send their kids to Kent State or OSU or Tri-C. Then all their kids would be like, FUCK working in factories, let's go be marketing majors or teach preschool. So then new people would come in to work at the plant, and later move into the now old ranch homes and shotgun two bedroom houses, and all the old people would retire and work on their show cars in their backyards and complain about the neighborhood going downhill. Suburbs are crazy like that. My experience with Brookpark is basically only when I was a young girl dating David, and used to hang out on his parent's wooden back patio singing Wilco songs with him, and that one time I went with his Mom, Dad, and Grandfather to Olive Garden for Sunday dinner.

 I think there's something special about the old American post war suburb. It's got a beige and blonde beauty of it's own. It isn't poor and falling down (though they are getting there), but it's also not tree-lined and intellectual. It's the vague place in between where neilsen boxes go and car dealerships clone themselves and everyone's daughter is healthy, leggy like a colt, and squirrel cheeked. I love Brookpark Rd, which is a stretch of cheap bars, cheaper restaurants, cemeteries, auto repair shops, strip clubs, roller skating rinks, and manufacturing. Manufacturing is the thing that built the South Side. It's all so very normal and American Dream Potholed. Us city kids, we don't pay enough attention to the South Side. Probably cause it's more interesting if you don't let the people who live there start talking about what they hate.

 That's true of all of America though. Stop telling me what you hate America, tell me what you love. Cause I hate your hate, and I don't see how we're ever going to be friends if you don't let it go.




The other thing I thought about, looking through the barbed wire at the rubble of a foundry, is the College Dream. I don't think everyone should go to college. I think it's unrealistic. Not everyone is going to get a great job because they put themselves in debt. If you don't want a 4 year degree specifically for a particular career, then why not trade schools? Why not certifications? My friend and I disagreed on this, she thinks everyone should go even if it's just for a general liberal arts degree because it makes them more cultured. Oh man, that gets me rankled more than anything. I say, look, I don't have a degree, I'm cultured. I'm arguably more cultured than a lot of people with degrees that I've met. It's because my childhood made me love learning, so I'm capable of doing it independently, I seek it out. If you want everyone to be more cultured, then focus on the kids, teach them how to want to be curious and smart. That way even if they can't afford college, they can enjoy being interested in life, they can have PERSPECTIVE. Teach them to love to read, that's basically the key to everything. Three of the most financially successful people I know don't have degrees. How you do in life depends on what kind of person you are, qualities defined and settled when you are very young. People who want to go to college will. Don't assume everyone should. There are a million ways to have a happy life. If you are a shitty unimaginative person, getting a degree just makes you a shitty unimaginative person in debt.

 What I'm saying is that there is a set of general qualities it's assumed you get from college no matter your major, and I think we should be teaching these qualities a lot earlier. How to network. How to focus. Time management. Goal setting. Listening. Rational, logical thought. Why spend 80,000 dollars on a communications B.A. you don't really care about, just so you can end up working the same mid range white collar job with health benefits I do now? That's stupid if you don't have 80,000 to spend. That insurance company didn't hire you and your degree because they think your knowledge of Early American history is useful to them. So let's define those qualities they did assume your degree meant, and give those to everyone without selling our young people into slavery to the banks.

 I'm not arguing that college isn't great, I think all learning is great. I wish every single person in this country could afford to go college. That is never going to happen. I just spent a lot of time and effort myself applying to go back to school, because what I want to do is be a better writer. That's something you can go to school for. But we can't afford to get a college degree in just anything at all, because we're supposed to. Wait till you know what it is you want it for, till you have a purpose for it. Or make it a hell of a lot cheaper, one of the two.

 I feel that we spend too much money on expectations of life. College. Weddings. Cars. Houses. The expectation that everyone can be the same kind of middle class. That is a dying thing, a short lived post war fantasy. The creation of the label of middle class is an inherent acknowledgement that there will always be a lower class. There are not that many openings in the middle class, folks. It's a lifestyle that has an occupancy limit. And here's where I might go on a rant about socialism, but let's leave that be. Point is, look where it's gotten us, the tv dream. Look how unhappy and stressed out everyone is, how depressed and desperate and struggling. Look at the black hole of credit we live in.

 I mean, really what's happening here (emotionally I mean, to me, why I'm on about this) is when you find out I don't have a degree, and you're surprised? And I see that judgement enter your eyes, your expectations of my intelligence lowering? It's insulting and it makes me sad. Because intelligence and credentials are not the same thing, you should know that. I want to go to school because I have a specific skill I want to learn, not because it's going to make me a superior person. I am already a superior person, because my parents took pains to make me that way. Doing that for every child when they are young is the next step to be a better society, not because it will get them all to college but because it will make them better people.

 This post did not end up where I thought it would. Also, now probably an admissions person will read this and think "she thinks college is not necessary!?". Oh Admissions Person, you have no idea how necessary college is for me, right now, promise. Do you see the sentence structuring in this post? Horrid. I'm just saying, I don't regret the fact that I waited until I had a clearly defined endgame. Because now I understand how the world works, a little better anyways. PERSPECTIVE.