Stuck in Postmodernity.

Ok, so I'm fed up

I'm fed up with literally not having the minutes in the day to blog

I'm fed up with having to plan out every single hour of my day

today's agenda?

4-6pmSociology paper about brands and postmodernity

6-9pm library time & psychology study guide

9-10pm pilates (a possibly futile attempt at relaxation)

10-11pm more soc

11-1am more psych studying

there isn't even time for dinner in that mess

maybe I'll have cornflakes in a cup

cups of cereal, I've just discovered,

are ten times better than bowls of cereal

speaking of cereal,

and other sources of happiness...such as consumerism

I know it's bad

I'm writing a paper about how postmodern and amoral brands are

but I just cannot help but love the best brand of them all:

Coldstone

when I was home, I trekked all the way to the brand mecca:

Times Square

to visit the 4 story abyss (Forever 21)

and the enormous happy-making factory (Coldstone)

I didn't just like it, or love it,

I got an Ours

for the "coolness impaired"

(thats what Coldstone calls those who don't get their sizing)

thats a whole quart....

of birthday cake remix love

and yes...I took pictures with my Coldstone shopping bag

on Times Square and in the Subway

yes, I was that elated

although I may have looked like a loopy ecstatic tourist,

should I have cared?

tourists are naive and happy

(which might be the perfect state of existence)

should I care that Coldstone fills my postmodern void?

apparently taking the place of relationships, morals and piety

(as the good ol' sociologist Lyotard taught me?)

nope,

I stashed my leftover ice cream behind a pile of frozen peaches

to elude any predators (ie. my brother)

and ate it over a few days while I watched Everybody Loves Raymond

ahh how postmodern: vicariously living through sitcoms,

and eating a branded, romanticized commodity

obviously, I've become delusional

unable to separate social theory readings and reality

either which way, that was the life,

now alls I have are 6 stale ice cream sandwiches

I stole from the dining hall

and a few more pages of my paper to write.

Learning to Drive & Escaping Avant- Garde Torture

So there I was, sitting in the

art history lecture hall

watching odd avant garde films,

think race cars, scrotums,

claustrophobic uteran imagery,

a tap dancing satyr, and ambiguous

asexual creatures with pink wigs and drag queen makeup (seriously)

which is basically the most

disturbing thing

that could possibly be happening

to a fragile girl

who still needed to do the footnotes

on her Dutch art history research paper,

a sad, poor girl who did not know just how long making footnotes actually takes

we were confined to that room,

for 3 whole hours

a fate my friend just couldn't deal with

so she utters these magic words, "I'll take you to Cold Stone"

(basically, with these words anyone could get me to fall at their feet,

and be at their every whim like:

oh haiiii, will you wash the dishes?,

and mind you I do not wash dishes, but I'd gladly comply

oh, will you rub my feet? yessir! what scent of lotion would you like?

clearly I'm a sucker)

specifically she said "If we leave, I'll take you to Coldstone"

with that sentence, the bells and whistles went off in my head

and we broke out only an hour into the torture

under the piercing gaze of our banshee-esque professor

off to Cold Stone we went, to get Birthday Cake Remix

it felt so good to finally have real ice cream

that wasn't being squeezed out of a machine in the Deec

real, creamy, nom ice cream, it was heavenly to experience

brownies, sprinkles and cake batter ice cream all over again

I don't think there's any better food than ice cream

spaghetti, pad thai and omelets are almost as good

anyhow, after the ice cream my friend suggests that I get into the drivers seat

of her nice, shiny, new car

mind you, I have never sat in the driver's seat of a car

and even more importantly, have never put my hands on a steering wheel

she is crazy, but she tried to teach me how to drive

and dammit! it was difficult, I'm surprised most people

can think about that many things at once

look to the left, look to the right, check the mirrors, gas pedal, brake, merge into a turn

I also never knew that a car moves without you pressing the gas

which honestly was quite off putting and a bit troubling to me

and the steering wheel can be turned all the way around

it was a whole new world

my gosh, it was overwhelming

and sometimes my feet had trouble finding the gas

and I apparently have a British tendency to drive in the left lane

but nonetheless I drove, learned not how to break violently

and didn't crash into Men's Warehouse

I wasn't blasting My Humps

but at this rate, that dream is becoming a possibility.

Birthday Cake Remix [The Song of my Heart]

When I sit alone at Vassar

with only the solace of a sometimes working fro-yo machine

that emits "fro yo" that just tastes like bad vanilla soft serve

not the tart tangy goodness that I'm used to

the kind that goes with chopped bananas and strawberries

and kiwis and pineapple 

[its sad when you're at college and the one thing you crave is fruit]

because all the dining hall has is

half sweet oranges, not quite ripe bananas, and apples :/

so my heart yearns for Cold Stone

the creamy, yummy, almost sexy goodness of 

those ice  cream confections

and when I think about the combination

of cake batter ice cream, brownies and sprinkles

my heart sings a ballad

a lamenting melody

because, what can be worse than impostor fro yo?

absolutely nothing... except not having Cold Stone...or fresh fruit

so basically, when I got Cold Stone

and ordered that Gotta Have It! Birthday Cake Remix

my heart no longer sang its sad ballad

but it began to bump

some electro beats

and I filled that empty Cold Stone 

on that cold winter day

with music, loud music, and smiles

and now, as I watch Iron Chef from 5 years ago

I'm craving ice cream

for it is my one, true love.

P.S. I hate college food, I'll never go back.