UGH, COLLEGE.

James Devaney

Over the past years of unwilling contact with other humans, I’ve learned (the hard way) of what not to talk about in a conversation, the “conversational taboo” if you will. To the universal list, we know its politics and religion, but did we ever think that Beyonce would enter that list? Unless you’re in a conversation with me, she is not.

In class learning to journalistically write about arts and culture, we were assigned to review Beyonce’s album (which I do on a regular basis anyway as my primary hobby).

In regards to Beyonce’s album, one kid claimed not being able to comfortably watch her music videos because they featured so many themes about “sex.” He then went on to criticize Beyonce for preaching feminist values, which he thought was contradicted by her revealing “too much skin.” So I said, “Who the fuck do you think you are, shithead?” Of course I didn’t say that, and I never would. But I certainly thought it.

He then claimed that women who “believe in feminism” (as if feminism was Santa Claus) should not show skin or be sexy. I then asked, “Why not?” to which he did not respond.

His completely naive and invalid argument, however, was made solely on the basis of personal judgement and stereotype. It is embarrassing that a supposedly educated student is allowed to make such asinine statements.

It turns out, that I would be the only unabashed Beyonce fan in the class and a vocal one at that, but I should not be the only who believes that women should have equal pay and wear La Perla lingerie at the same time. The exchange I had with this other student did not matter that it was about Beyonce, but rather how women are allowed to behave. Let’s just disregard the fact that he was speaking about Beyonce, but he could have had the same opinion or generalization about any woman.

People like this kid still exist.

He then asked, “Is Sasha Fierce her real name?”

Please stop.

NEW HAIR, NO HAIR, NEVER AGAIN!

Pixie Cuts Galore

There is a chair out there that I dread more than the electric chair itself. I have never had a good experience in that chair, and it has somehow scarred me for life. As far back as I can remember, I always left it crying, sometimes even sobbing. It is the ever so ominous chair at the hair salon.

For the past four years, I have had the same haircut at the same salon once a year. I should note, and not to brag, that I don’t blow dry, straighten, or curl my hair, so it has been relatively healthy my whole life. You think that’s a good thing. You don’t know how jealous my perfectly pin-straight, thick, Asian hair is of your curly, dry, split ends. My hair is like liquid. I try to do one style to it, but it just reverts back to its natural state: bor-ing.

Still after every horrible haircut experience, I have always wanted my Princess-Mia-takes-off-her-hat moment. It has yet to happen. Growing up watching movies where the nerd takes off her glasses at prom and everyone realizes how hot she is, didn’t make it easier on the pressure I felt every time I visited the salon. (Those movies made me want glasses, too. Unfortunately, I have 20/20 vision.)

Every woman has a fantasy of what it would be like to completely chop off all her hair. Will I end up looking like a 12-year-old boy? Or will everyone notice my cheekbones like Natalie Portman? In shows or movies, getting a pixie cut usually signifies a change of heart or utter disaster, almost a terrible impulse decision. You’ll be utterly and inevitably criticized for the new do, but in the end we all just wanted to be like the nerds in the makeover movies.

So last week, I revisited the chair and got the long bob. I didn’t go Miley Cyrus crazy, but I feel a style change coming. I feel surprisingly good. I guess the only way to feel good about a haircut is to just not look in the mirror and realize that we will never look like Beyonce.

When it comes to haircuts, instead of feeling like Princess Mia in Princess Diaries, I am inevitably feeling Fantine in Les Miserables.

How I Feel About Haircuts

How do you feel about haircuts?

signout

PEOPLE I DON’T #FF

twet

Five years ago, I would come home to Facebook like it was my on-and-off boyfriend. Now, I’ve abandoned it for the newer, cooler model that’s ready for a long-term relationship. Even 13-year-olds aren’t exactly privy to the cultist status that Facebook used to have. Also, I’m just not having it with the subtle “my life is better than yours” photo albums.

Now that Twitter and I have established ourselves, I am in a point in our relationship where I am comfortable with pointing out its flaws. (Disclaimer: There is never a safe time to point out each other’s flaws; I am just describing a website!) Let’s be honest, there are people we follow on Twitter that can make or break our day and timeline. It’s time to call them out.

Here is a list of people you should try to avoid being on Twitter. And the safest boundary to be on Twitter is always a funny lady. Or Horse_ebooks.

  1. The Hypochondriac: The Twitter status box is not the WebMD symptom checker. Do not feel free to list your health symptoms or feelings. Your followers are not your doctor…unless your pediatrician really is following you.

  2. A Life Coach or Tony Robbins: You’re the people who post motivational/inspirational/religious quotes in the hope that you’re making someone’s day. That’s what the comments section of FOX News is for, my friends.

  3. The Subliminal Tweeter: I get it. That tweet you just tweeted was directed towards me. Can’t you just text me?

  4. Tweeter Before Texter: I texted you, then you tweet something instead of replying to me. Bitch.

  5. ThEsE PeOpLe or TH1$ P3R$0N

I’m certainly not here to tell you how you should tweet. I’m just someone who wishes that everyone will have the same television viewing schedule as I do, or that Beyonce would reveal her new do hours before I decide to sleep. Since the world will most likely NOT sing Destiny Child’s Cater 2 U as an ode to me, I won’t dictate your Twitter habits.

Twitter is my Narnia, don’t ruin it for me.

signout

P.S. Follow me on Twitter? Did I miss anyone?