Hannah Rosenbaum performing her original song, OCEANA, at The Clubhouse in the Bronx
We had a children’s anthology of Greek and Roman myths. Today, I can tell you they were raped Disney versions of the great tales of Hesiod and Ovid. Yes, they sparked my interest in ancient history and archaeology, and molded my capacity for writing dramatic and epic fiction when I was younger. They widened my understanding of the vastness of human belief systems. While I might not have been a little girl pondering the neural networks of ancient Greek brains, performing imaging scans on them now to observe the volume of belief, language, and storytelling regions would be lovely :). Alas. These neurons died with the tales of Zeus.
As of late… driving. I’m almost ready to tackle the stereotypically fatal Manhattan roads–I’ve mastered the cut-off, the Innocent Female smile, the aggressive wave of the hand, and the obnoxious horn tooting when the light turns green. I’ve invented new terminology and slogans for every sloth or road-etiquette felon out there. I’ve screamed at the guy in the other lane in an empty vehicle, and with a full house. I survived Hurricane Sandy.
My car is Gigi Corolla, and she is one tough bitch.
But the irony of road rage is everlasting… why do we compete so viciously to reach the next red light?
I want to blow the brains out of this assignment. One more literature review and I’m out.
People, stop competing with me for your MA’s and MS’s, and go conquer the world of SciD, PhD, and AudD so I don’t have to fucking pull my toe hairs out trying to find literature to review. Maybe it’s MY fate to reciprocate all of my internalized education and push it out into the community of research.
Except I am so not about that life at this point in… life.
In any case, WHERE IS ALL THE EVIDENCE FOR OUR EBP?!?!
My co-worker violently congratulated me for getting into the NYU MS program … With a screech, a tackle, and a, “You Gemini are always successful!”
Needless to say, I had to bite my tongue, cheek, knock out my teeth, and stagnate my neural impulses to argue that my fate does NOT lay in the stars; rather, I’ve worked MY ASS off for this and no celestial body of gas combined with my time of birth will stop or aid me!
I said thank you.
And moved on.
Hypocrisy corner–> my sign is, in fact, FUCKING AWESOME.