hellocalamity

Not that anyone here but you would understand.

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Now try How and Why.
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Dist. of Columbia, United States
Interests: (49)
alison brie, anthropology, autodidacticism, avocados, betty draper speaking italian, clear eyes/full hearts/can't lose, clothing, community, crossover crackfic, deputy leo d'amato, dillon high school football, ellie linton, feminism, fiona apple, freckles, frozen yogurt, goat cheese, haruki murakami, iris chase griffen, iris chase griffen/alex thomas/eternity, jal fazer, joan didion, joni mitchell, lizzy caplan, logan echolls's mumbled lines, lorde, mad men, mallory ortberg, marathoning dvd box sets, margaret atwood, mashups, max greenfield, metric, my so-called life, neko case, ohnotheydidnt, peeta mellark, requited love, ron/hermione, salvatore romano cruisin' dudes, sexual ambiguity, shoes, soccer, sterling cooper draper pryce, tegan and sara, the logic of lulz, the tomorrow series, the world cup, yoga
Bio
What possesses them, these young girls with a talent for self-immolation? Is it what they do to show that girls too have courage, that they can do more than weep and moan, that they too can face death with panache? And where does the urge come from? Does it begin with defiance, and if so, of what? Of the great leaden suffocating order of things, the great spike-wheeled chariot, the blind tyrants, the blind gods? Are these girls reckless enough or arrogant enough to think that they can stop such things in their tracks by offering themselves up on some theoretical altar, or is it a kind of testifying?

- Literary HBIC Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin



I am not a person who keeps a journal. Instead, I'm inclined to catalog my experiences and turn them over in my head until some kind of theme emerges and I feel I can link the personal banalities to something larger and worth telling. This may be the reason I often have difficulty remembering events as they actually happened. No doubt it is a symptom of my aforementioned point, which concerns the tendency of contemporary human beings to live not actual lives but simulations of lives, loving not actual people but the general idea of those people, operating at several degrees of remove from what might be considered authentic if we weren’t trying so hard to create authenticity through songs and clothes and advertisements and a million other agents of realness.

- Meghan Daum, My Misspent Youth

In other words, I am basically an exercise in postmodern 20something angst. (Cf: Tumblr.)
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