(no subject)

Today is day 4 in a row of wearing a t-shirt from a concert. Getaway People on Sunday, Arlo on Monday, Indigo Girls yesterday, EFO today. I could conceivably wear a band shirt every day this week. Maybe that's my thing. Brent always wears swimming shirts. Doug always wears political shirts. Nate always wears ugly shirts. (These are people I work with, and I'm kinda kidding about Nate, hehe.) So maybe my thing is the band shirt. I love not having a dress code. It's nice that for once I have an employer who realizes that if no one is going to see you, it doesn't matter what you look like. Really.

On the subject of dress codes...I always thought the one-inch tank top strap rule at AHS was such BS. I mean, I understand the logic behind it - it was all about reducing the skank quotient, but when you're a size 12, and you squeeze your booty into a size 8 dress, it doesn't matter how thick the straps are - you're going to look like a corner whore. In the meantime, people who respect their own bodies (and the limits of their attractiveness) like myself, can look perfectly respectable in a spaghetti strap tank top that actually fits. So I propose a change to the dress codes across America. Instead of arbitrary limits on the thickness of straps and the number of acceptable inches above the knee for a hem, schools should just impose a simple, one-line policy: Don't come here looking like a skank. It will be subjective by nature, but that's good - that eliminates the loopholes. And these teenyboinkers need to be told they're acting like sluts. They probably already know, really, but someone needs to grow the cahones to be able to say "No, I'm not asking you to change because your bra strap is showing and that's 'offensive;' I'm making you change because looking at you in that pathetic cry for attention of an outfit makes me want to vomit and cry for your mother." Honestly, I'm all for free expression, and I certainly donned a fuck me outfit or two in my teen years, but now that I'm older and wiser, I wish someone had put it to me straight when I was 16. Instead of teachers pussyfooting around the issue and making excuses about exposed bra straps, I wish they would've just said "You can get laid if you really want to without dressing so provocatively. In the mean time, you look stupid. Really." But that's a lawsuit waiting to happen. It's a shame there are so many restrictions in place that keep teachers (and adults in general) from just being honest with kids. And I don't think kids are any better for it. Sigh.

Peace.

I wanna MMMBop you like an animal

There are few better feelings than finding a song that perfectly suits my mood, and then rocking out to that song. When I walk to work and back to my car in the evening (I park over a mile away from the office, so it's a good long walk), I always put my headphones on and I love the feeling of just walking. And I think there's something magnetic about a person who is just totally enjoying him- or herself. Or maybe it's because I'm kind of dancing as I walk (if I am, it's subconscious, but I wouldn't really be surprised). But regardless, people tend to watch me when I walk. Shit, maybe my fly's always down. I don't know. But that's not my point.

It just amuses me to think the people watching me know I have headphones on - but they have no idea what's playing, and what that means about what's going on in my head. Outwardly, I have an expression of peace. I am happy with my music. I am happy walking. I look like I have a purpose. This morning on the way to work, I was listening to NIN's "Closer." A minivan with a whole school of Jesus fish on it stopped to let me cross the street, and a wholesome-looking soccer mom smiled and waved. And a wholesome-looking Meg smiled and waved back. But in my head, I'm hearing "I wanna fuck you like an animal" to a lovely industrial beat. I couldn't help but giggle. If soccer mom could hear my music, she might have wanted to run me down with her minivan and curse me for being so heathen. Then this afternoon, I was in a totally different frame of mind, and I'm walking down the mall, silently jamming to some Hanson. I walked by the cluster of goth kids, who scanned me over and gave me the nod of acceptance as I passed them. Heh. If only they knew. I feel almost as if I'm lying to these people by letting them think I'm cool. Or maybe they don't think I'm cool at all and I'm giving myself too much credit. But it's an amusing thought.

Now I'm going to the gym, where EVERYBODY wears headphones, and I can laugh to myself as I imagine that the old ladies are all listening to gangsta-rap and the cutest guys are listening to Kelly Clarkson and Britney Spears. :)

Peace.