I was driving over to the Glen Garage a few hours ago after getting out of Chaucer, and a fellow in a spiffy Civic was hugging my ass for most of the way. From what I could see of him in my rear-view mirror, he was your typical macho white guy: backwards facing ball-cap, sunglasses, earing, blah-blah-blah. I’m sure he had some gold chains and tattoos, too. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a Garden State license plate on his car.

He looks a lot like those idiot freshmen I see in the “perspectives” section of the Towerlight: all the Guidos on campus — all the ones I run into, anyway — tend to sprout the same “if men were meant to have sex with men, they’d have vaginas” crap, coupled with the “yeah, lesbians are cool … as long as I can watch.”

So I got the idea in my head to post this to my bumper: “If you hug my car’s ass this close, you’re demonstrating through a Freudian technique your homosexual desires to fuck me, so back off before I yank the parking brake.”

Clearly, the phrasing needs work, but I’m not above playing off someone’s homophobia to drive without fearing being rear-ended.

(When I say “autosexual”, it’s a play on the words “automobile” and “homosexual”, I don’t intend it in this way.)

Perhaps you might have seen this article from October:

The highest court in South Africa has overturned apartheid era laws criminalising homosexuality.

The laws criminalising sex between men had remained on the statute books despite the post-apartheid constitution of 1994, which made South Africa one of the first countries in the world to outlaw discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation.

South African gay rights groups have welcomed the ruling.

The National Coalition for Gay and Lesbian Equality said it could open up adoption, marriage and other rights for homosexuals.

“The court has said that lesbians and gay men … have a right to equality and dignity and privacy,” said Zackie Achmat, the group’s director.

South Africa is a country which, until the early 1990s, was ruled under the system of apartheid, designed to segregate the people of the country and surpress racial groups who weren’t white. You can read about apartheid here — suffice to say, it was a nasty system. But the point I’m trying to make here is that in fifteen years, South Africa has completely overhauled its society. Equality, where value is based not on the color of one’s skin, or the gender of whom one wants to engage in various lustful actions, but on a person’s character. It’s amazing to see how quickly this has happened over there. I won’t pretend or say that South Africa is a paradise, but I think it would be hard to deny that the place is a lot better than it was.

Meanwhile, it took nearly one hundred years after the Civil War ended for American blacks to recieve full citizenship rights. As far as civil-rights for gays in this country, the battlefield there is the fifty individual states. Some states are making moves to ensure that a person’s civil rights don’t come to a screeching halt dependent on who they enjoy fucking. Some states are doing the opposite.

I was watching a documentary on the assassination of President Lincoln last week, and I thought how sad it was that he died. Not for the “little” reasons, of course — not for the grief of his family, or his country. Rather, I thought about how different life might be today, if he’d lived. If Andrew Johnson hadn’t become President, if Reconstruction had gone forward as Lincoln envisioned. If the South hadn’t been allowed to form their segregationist policies and effectively halt black voting.

Can you just imagine? If instead of equal rights for forty-years, we’d had equal rights for a hundred and forty? Can you?

And all because of an assassin’s bullet.

The classroom is open, and about eight of us are in here. Most reading silently. Every now and then a burst of discussion — what is the rhyme meter of Sir Topaz? Rhyme royale? No, a “sing-songy” …

Behind me, two girls are talking about leaving space open on next semester’s schedule to retake the class. I’m about to tell them it isn’t being offered. My plan is to take Shakespeare Tragedies if I fail this course.

I’m not religious, so I feel stupid for asking this, but, y’know. Pray. (Or send the prof money).

UPDATE:

Well, I’m over at 7800 York Road now. Just got here. I feel confident about the exam — mostly. I only got five of the seven deadly sins, which actually makes me regret (slightly) not being a practicing Catholic anymore. There’s nothing more I can do — here’s hoping I got a C for the class.

Last night, I took a break from studying to swing past my friend Chris’ house to play a few games of pool. He’s in the second section of Folklore — his exam is Thursday — but I needed some relaxation. Overall, I play a pretty lousy game of pool, but it worked out where he would sink all but one of his balls, whereas I had sunk none of mine, and then he would be unable to get his last into the pocket, while I would begin making some incredible amazing and absolutely unintentional shots, downing all of mine. He kept jokingly calling me a hustler without realizing that it was just plain-dumb-luck on my part. Seriously, one shot — where I sunk three — I hadn’t even bothered lining up because his little fucking rodent dog was trying to nip my ankle. I just let fly and then watched in amazement. In every case, he wound up rallying, sinking his last, then getting the drop on the 8-Ball. It was nice relaxation, particularly as the rest of the night found me curled up with the Cole book on folktales.

I just wrote a very-long essay on “witch riding” and its place in Lousianna French-Roman Catholic black culture. I theorized that it stems from the days of slavery, where men sleeping on their backs and women on their stomachs presented “targets of opportunity” for rape-minded white owners and overseers. I supported my argument from the readings in Brunvand and what I remembered from lecture. I don’t feel so hot on the other essay, the purpose of “John and Massa” stories, but I did get a good four paragraphs on that. My studying was incomplete: I felt completely befuddled when asked to list two characteristics of “Russian/German Houses.” I blanked and wrote “European” for the first, and “brothel” for the second. My hand is cramping (not for the reasons I’d like), and I’m glad I’ve got three hours until my next exam: the dreaded Chaucer, with its two dreaded essays.

There’s this strange silence that has descended upon campus. People walk through the empty halls silently. A few students, myself included, sit on the corridor floor reading books or notes, typing on laptops, crying inconsoleably in one case. I got here at 6:30 this morning and if not for the day light it could have remained 6:30am in perpetuity. Part of the explanation is the easy one: the way the University has scheduled finals, only half the normal number of students are in Linthicum Hall right now. Some classes don’t have finals, with professors preferring an end-of-semester paper or alternate semester: the girl that I studied* Chaucer with last night had to go to a “poetry orgy” (the actual name of the event) and read two poems last week in place of an actual final.

My COSC class is similar. We don’t have a traditional final — we had a take-home writing assignment, and then a group presentation. I largely put the latter together (and thanks for all your help, readers) and my favorite slide, on the value of team management, boasts a photo of Captain Kirk and a caption admonishing team managers to supervise, observe, and sleep with hot aliens. Sometimes, you’ve gotta go for the cheap laugh, and I’m pretty sure the Professor will enjoy that line. Also in the presentation? A photo of a Lego iPod.

Three hours to go until Chaucer. As soon as that exam is over, I’m heading over to Bateman’s and getting a beer. A Bass Ale, I do believe. Then I’m going to take a nap, because, those green couches in 7800 York Road are surprisingly comfortable.

(*And when I say we “studied” together? I mean we read over the major plot points of Troilus and Cresyde, and damn this class, because now I want to see Troy again. What did you think I meant?)

You are The Sun

Happiness, Content, Joy.

The meanings for the Sun are fairly simple and consistent.

Young, healthy, new, fresh. The brain is working, things that were muddled come clear, everything falls into place, and everything seems to go your way.

The Sun is ruled by the Sun, of course. This is the light that comes after the long dark night, Apollo to the Moon’s Diana. A positive card, it promises you your day in the sun. Glory, gain, triumph, pleasure, truth, success. As the moon symbolized inspiration from the unconscious, from dreams, this card symbolizes discoveries made fully consciousness and wide awake. You have an understanding and enjoyment of science and math, beautifully constructed music, carefully reasoned philosophy. It is a card of intellect, clarity of mind, and feelings of youthful energy.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Stolen from Charissa’s blog, who stole it from Julie’s.