Your all just a little off your rockers.

I've notice something very interesting in fandom lately, that tells me a lot about the world. These are not good things, and in fact have had the interesting affect of severely pissing me off. I'm going to focus on just one for the moment, though.

First thing I noticed: Being a feminine is always bad.

Can someone tell me why this is? Didn't we go through that whole feminist movement so being seen as feminine WOULDN'T be a negative thing? I thought that was the point of it, anyway. To make us equal, right?

Seems to me all that happened was it made being 'girly' worse. Not just for guys, but for girls to. I can't even wear ribbons in my hair without someone telling me I'm "giving into the pressure put on me by a patriarchal society".

WTF mate, maybe I just like ribbons!

If you are a tough girl who likes shopping: You are immediately dismissed as being to feminine. You are there for not worthy to be a role-model for girls today.

If you are a smart girl who also likes to take pride in her apperance and wear make up and stuff: You are not worthy to be a role model for girls today, as you obviously have self-confidence issues.

I could go on like that for a lot longer, but it's midnight so I won't. The basic conclusion is that the only acceptable role model for young girls is a man, and that makes no sense at all!

Heaven forbid you should want to be a mother. I've been called unambitious and opressed so many times that I think I'm just going to deck the next person that says so. I have dreams and goals, many of them. Just because the one dearest to my heart is to have children doesn't mean I don't have others. Ar-tards.

So, riddle me this, Batman: why is it so threatening to EVERYONE to have a person that is both strong and feminie?

Seems to be most people's theory as to why guys won't ask me out on dates, and seems to be the reason a lot of female characters are despised by fans. It's always the female traits, not the male ones, that are called out on and critisied, too. In female characters.

There's no sense to it at all.

Vacation for Myself

I needs one.

I type this as my Coke is bubbling out the top of my straw. Why does it do that in bottles, but not in Fountain drinks? Carbonation levels?

Irrelevant. The point is I need a way to remove the narrator from my head for like...24 hours, so I can get some peace up there.

Yes, I have a narrator in my head. Go ahead and laugh, it's all very amusing when it's not you that has to live with her. She sits up there and supplies all the things I would like to say but can't-- either because they're too mean and I don't have the heart to, or because they're too weird even for me.

You ever seen the show "Burn Notice"? You know how Mike narrators stuff like "When you're a spy you do x best by doing c"? Stuff like that.

"When you're me, you learn quickly that setting foot outside is a calculated risk. To get anything done, you have to do it, but chances are good something odd and/or terrible is going to happen once you do. So, you spent your first five minutes of consciousness every morning deciding if what you want is really actually worth it."

For the record, there has never been a day when food has been worth it. Maybe that's part of the problem.

Today, class really wasn't worth it either. I got up, went to work, and then hid in a dark corner of the Union because the last place I seem to want to be lately is my apartment.

It tends to be like that when I go home for short periods. Not long enough for them to get sick of me (come on guys, I know you do), just long enough to remind me how much I miss...I miss having friends. I miss having people I could actually hear laughing at my jokes, and I miss that feeling of walking in the door and knowing I have somewhere I belong.

I'm an independent person, by nature. I think I always have been. A dreamer. All of my favorite songs are talking about flying and flying away.

But even eagles don't fly forever, and every once and a while I need something besides myself to keep me up. My family always loves and supports me and I know that. But the difference between knowing and feeling is rather extreme.

That's another thing the narrator in my head does. She tells me what I'm feeling, and that seems to be enough for me.

Everyone else however...I've discovered that the vast majority of my acquaintances think I don't feel anything at all. Which is horribly untrue.

They've come to this conclusion because when something catastrophic hits my life, it is rare that I react with more than a shrug, or-- worst case scenario-- a few silent tears. When I'm excited about something, or something great just happened...I still react with little more than a small smile and a shrug.

This is, of course, only where people can see me. It's not that I'm against showing emotion in front of others. I don't think it's a weakness or anything, exactly. I just...I feel like people need me to be solid. They expect me to be steady. Good ol' reliable Aubrey. I've seen people's faces when I do break down, and they get even more upset than I am. It's not a comfortable feeling, because then I know I let them down.

I can't stand letting people down.

All of this has been a ridiculously self-aware (I pride myself on being so), supplied oh so helpfully by my narrator who does nothing but analysis of what I'm doing and why I'm doing it every second of every day.

I really just want it to shut up. I want that annoying little "You're lying. Why are you lying? Normal people wouldn't lie about that. You don't even *need* to lie about that?" and the "Wow, that was awkward, why to kill the conversation by choking on your foot", and "Why are you trying to play ninja? Are you really that lame and paranoid. Yes, you are." to just stop.

Come to think of it, my narrator is very critical.

Normally I can ignore her and really just not care two cents about what she says, but she's been getting louder lately (happens when I'm tired and stressed, I think). It wears on you, after a while.

So...anyone know how to book a flight to Miami for you brain?

The logic of my shoes, and other such things.

I noticed something today.

Well, no, that isn't quite right. I've noticed it before. I've just never cared to remember it or think about it before.

I like bright colors.

I'm not talking a nice shade of blue, or deep red. I'm talking bright neon I'm-going-to-go-blind-if-I-stare-at-that-too-long colors. Not only do I love these colors, but I'm happiest when wearing them.

This is ironic, as I both love getting lost in a crowd and being the person everyone notices. If I could do both at the same time, that would be nothing short of the greatest thing ever.

Nobody ever said I wasn't one big walking contradiction did they? If you did, you stand corrected.

It isn't news to me that I prefer to wear clothes that can cause seizures, but as I was looking down at my new lime green shoes and neon blue TMNT shirt, I had to ask myself one thing. Why?

Most people don't dress the way I do, that's for sure. They all seem content with their blacks, browns, and grays-- colors I will avoid whenever humanly possible.

My conclusion?

SO I DON'T GET HIT BY FREAKIN' CARS!

Those of you who make fun of me for my phobia of crossing the street-- and you know who you are-- don't understand that it is a daily hazard I have to face. 6 out of 10 times when I'm crossing a road, or even a driveway, parking lot, or the entrance to a parking place, some car is going to shoot out of no where and try and take me with it.

Today's example? I had a close encounter with a fire truck.

I don't know if he wasn't paying attention or if he wasn't. All I know is I heard a honk, looked up, and found myself staring at the front end of one of those big red engines less that two feet from my face. I looked up, all wide eyed and trembling with Ice Age 2 quotes flashing through my brain (if you don't know the one I'm talking about, you haven't watched that movie nearly enough). Staring right back at me is this guy that can't be much older than me, looking just as terrified. I waved at him, he waved back, and we continued on our paths (me first, obviously).

Not two blocks later, this van tried to run a red light while I was crossing!

WTF, mate? Have I got a 'Please hit me and end my semester of misery' sign on my back or something (not a bad idea, if it comes to it).

I'm not sure that the florescent clothing helps with this or not, but since I put on those shoes and this shirt, no cars have tried to cut short my existence. I had to shake hands with a homeless guy, who shook hands like a dead fish (different rant entirely, there), but the cars have temporarily left me in peace.

I wonder how long I can wear this shirt...

Vive Le Toure

Okay, I admit it. Before yesterday, I hadn't looked all that much at the history of the biggest cycling race in history.

I'd figured that watching it for five years running was enough to let me claim myself a fan-- even if I, admittedly, sleep through all but the last half hour of the stages.

You can all tease me about this later, but I'm going to say it.

I was wrong.

There, satisfied? I was wrong to never have really studied it before. I shouldn't call myself a fan if I don't really understand what I'm watching. I suppose this means that I should look up Hockey next.

Moving on though...

Researching the Tour has lead me to the conclusion that I was very much right in my assumptions that the guy in the Polka Dots is by far the coolest rider. No, really! All you Lance fans ca say what you want (don't get me wrong, I love Lance, he is awesome and inspires hope in a bunch of people), but Rassmussen will always be my man.

My reasoning for this? "Stages in the mountains almost always cause major shifts in the general classification. On ordinary stages, most riders can stay in the peloton to the finish; during mountain stages, some lose 40 minutes. The mountains often decide the Tour. Mountain stages bring spectators who line the roads by the thousands." (Thank you Wiki.)

I mean really, think about it! A lot of cyclists just don't have what it takes to be a good climber. Even the greatest of the greats struggle with the Alpe d'Huz and other equally breath taking peaks.

Which is why the King of the Mountains is the lone wolf. Because in the places he will get the most points, his team cannot keep up. He has to struggle and fight against others on his own. No slipstream to depend on. No one to protect you. It's you and that mountain. You either have what it takes, or you are found wanting.

If you haven't seen the history of the Toure de France, and other such races, you need to check it out. It will not only increase the esteem in which you hold the riders; it will help you realize things you never noticed before. Besides that, it's a lot of fun.

VIVE LE TOURE! (Inspite of the French)

Memories that Remain...

Just got back from our first family vacation...pretty much ever. Well, no, that isn't totally true. We went to Disneyland when I was in 5th grade, and Lake Powell several times, but it's been probably close to 8 years since my family went somewhere new just for the sake of getting away.

This time we went to Solvang, California for the final individual time trial of the Amgen Tour of California.

Coolest. Town. Ever.

Before we got there, though, allow to complain about how much of my weekend was spent in a car.

From Salt Lake to St. George- 4.5 hrs.
Running errands around Hurricane- 2 hrs.
From Hurricane to St. George - .5 hrs.
From St. George to Prim- 4 hrs.
From Prim to Solvang- 7 hrs.
From Solvang to Marina Del Ray - 5 hrs.
Marina Del Ray to Long Beach- 1 hr.
Long Beach to Baker- 4 hrs.
Baker to Hurricane- 4 hrs.
St. George to Salt Lake- 4.5

TOTAL = 36.5 hrs. out of 96 hrs. or almost 40% of my weekend.

That's actually a slightly smaller number than I expected. That's a good thing, really.

As always, traveling with my family was a blast. We either spend the time singing as loud as we can (S.O.S. is a huge hit with my younger siblings and myself) or laughing hysterically at something or other. Like someone thinking that a work-visa was a credit card we gave foreigners. Or my saying "do speakers even know how engineers work?" instead of the other way around.

I think that's one of the best things about my family. No matter where we are, we're laughing.

The first night we stayed at a casino in Prim. It should have been a clue when the amenities said "Terrible's" on them that it wasn't the best of hotels. Actually, I think walking in was the first clue. Still, it wasn't the worst place I've ever been, and we watched "Burn Notice" which I had never seen before, but may start watching on USA in my free time.

I also played on my first slot machine! Yes, I know, we're not supposed to but...well, my dad always plays about a dollar in the 1 or 2 cent machines, and since I'm old enough now we thought it would be fun to do it together. I got my dollar up to $3.78, and then my Daddy lost it. I don't blame him though. I'm not even sure how the machine I was playing on worked. I just hit randomly lit buttons.

We got up at 3:30 AM (Pacific time) to start our drive to Solvang. The stage started at noon, but we wanted to be there in plenty of time to check out all the fun stuff going on. The drive up wasn't so bad, as we missed the worst of the LA traffic. We drove passed Santa Barbra, which was fun for me since I'm such a ridiculous Psych fan.

As I said previously, Solvang was awesome. It reminded me of Belgium, with the style of buildings and the sidewalks made of bricks. There were so many things to look at. I'm really bummed we didn't stay longer. I would have loved to go to the Hans Christian Anderson musuem.

The stage itself was cool. I'm not as into cycling as my dad and sister, but I admire their work ethic, and I got to wear my awesome polka-dot hat without getting any weird looks. I love my polka dot hat, since to me the King of the Mountains is the coolest rider in any tour. He can't rely on his team the same way the others can. He has to win it himself, though sheer willpower and strength. Which is, quite frankly, freakin' awesome.

Seeing the cyclists up close was fun. We actually saw Lance Armstrong, in real life, as well as Levi (who's last name I obviously cannot spell), Davy Z., George Hincappi, and so many others it almost made me dizzy. These are guys I've watched ride for almost five summers in a row now. It was awesome.

After stopping to get the yummiest treats ever (and me my new Solvang hat for my collection), we headed back down to Marina Del Ray to visit my Aunt, who I haven't seen in about 8 years.

The traffic was a nightmare to say the least. And then the Bomb Squad drove by. And then we saw a blimp that my mom thought looked just like a UFO (which freaked her out more than the Bomb Squad truck). We were all a mass of hysterically giggling idiots by the time we got to the resturant to meet her. It was so much fun, though, and the food was good.

We stayed a nice hotel that night, and I got to watch the Psych season finale on TV, instead of having to wait until today when I'll get it off iTunes. Which was great, because it was cool and intense.

The next morning we met up with my Aunt again and ate at iHop. Strawberry Banana Pancakes = my new favorite thing. No joke. And her husband snuck and paid for all of us, which was totally cool of him. He seems like a really great guy. I'm happy for her.

They gave us very simple instructions as how to find first a beach-- which we stopped at to watch some surfers and just enjoy the waves-- and then find the right road to take us back to I-15. We ended up in Long Beach heading to San Diego, which wasn't really where we wanted to go (this trip, anyway). We bought a map and found out back the right direction, settling in for the long drive home.

We did stop in Baker and ate at The Mad Greek. From what I've seen on the internet, experiences there vary from terrible to outstanding. I'd say over all the food was normal-ish (I had a burger, and while better than most fast food it wasn't the most amazing thing I'd ever eaten). The fresh strawberry shake though? Oh. My. Gosh. It was THE best thing I have EVER had. I'm going to be craving the stupid thing for months now.

Nothing particularly exciting to report about the rest of the drive home, but overall the trip was a blast. I hope we get the chance to do it again before we all grow up too much.