So I was in the gym today, as is my habit, sweating out the alcohol of the previous evening and reading a magazine, which, well, I know, I know, how anti-feminist can you get. But really, while I am trying to pretend I enjoy exercise and that the stairmaster is fun and exciting rather then being like a medieval torture device in it's build and execution, I really do need a magazine. It just, it helps. The mindless advice on enhancing my eyes and the thousand words they find for hairstyle somehow soothe me as I am pretending my body isn't in pain and that I wouldn't rather collapse on my bed and start drinking early. So I read stupid things. But I have to say, today's reading choice was especially idiotic. As I pursued the magazine section of the convenience store I realize that the only new magazine was cosmopolitan. Not my first choice on a bad day, but fine, screw it, Cosmo it was. So I bought it.
Okay, the thing is, I have a huge amount of haterade I am ready to spill all over this issue of cosmo. First of all, this particular issue for the month of March was deemed "the sexy issue". Really? Seriously? As opposed to every OTHER issue of this magazine? This gem of a publication that has gifted me sage advice such as "text your guy sexy things like how you aren't wearing underwear but thinking of him" and "ask your guy what his ideal vacation is to open up his emotions". I mean, this is a job? People pay you to think this up? Honestly, can I please be a part of this? If I can think up ten ways to describe hair I could totally pay my way through grad school.
Another article featured in this deep and contemplative tome was "50 things you can do when naked". Really? You're giving me permission? Thank you so much! I would NEVER have been okay with taking my clothing off had you not told me I could do so! Oh, really, I can light candles in the nude? That DOES sound exciting! Gloria Steinem could not be more proud of me right now! I do find it amazing that this magazine assumes that I would need these tips and tricks to feel sexy. What, was I waiting all year to feel good about myself? Thank God this came in March, wait another month and who knows what I would have gotten myself into. Crack is only wack for so long...
This evening as I walked into my dorm room here at not-Yale I saw a young man with a very large sword dancing around the green. He was twisting and turning around in the dark as if he was auditioning for Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon Two, The return of the flying Chinese guy. He flew around like some kind of bird, his sword shining and glowing in the night. I stopped, amazed, rather intrigued, wondering if this was a struggle or a triumph. And then I realized, this guy has a sword in his hands. It's whatever he wants it to be.
Leah Franqui is a fairly interesting person/director/writer/reader/eater/drinker. She likes ugly dogs and dislikes her hair in the morning. She's a sucker for environmental causes and plays hardball with deals on chewing gum. She is a struggle.