Opinion

I feel like I forgot how to write. I think it's because I'm no longer chilling out next to the newspaper crease, which is making me feel out of my element.

Alice, the girl I had a crush on for two years, was the first one out of all of us to do weed in high school. Five years later, we're at McDonalds - somewhere she only agreed to go to because it was Filet-O-Fish Friday - and she's telling us about ayahuasca, a root drug she took during her trip to Peru last fall.

A new season is about to begin and hope springs eternal. The familiar stalwarts from yesteryear are gone, and its time to evaluate the fresh crop of hopefuls. Yes, the ballot season is upon us, and it's time to break out the voter information guides.

How can this be? How can you already have The Aggie in your hands? Did you even have a spring break?

As I sit with my Macbook in my lap, biting my nails and racking my brain for any little idea on how to start my column, my boyfriend Arthur feels a dire need to be of some assistance. He turns to me and flashes a crafty smile. Sometimes he's just too cute for words.

Finals week is almost upon us, there's no dead day and you're stressed to the max. The last thing you need is a moralizing tale from someone taking 12.5 units. So today, we'll take a little vacation - a safari, if you will. You're about to get a glimpse into a dark, mysterious and sometimes odiferous place: the secret world of the California Aggie Marching Band-Uh!

After the third inmate asked my housemates and me if we were waiting for Paul, it occurred to me that it was because we're Asian. "You waiting for Paul?" one of the inmates from East 33 asked us. He was re-lacing his shoes, because before arrest, the guards take your shoelaces so you don't hang yourself with them.

The only three books that matter in life to me are the Bible, Harry Potter and the Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism. Read all three, and you're almost set for life. (No, the Bible and Harry Potter are not contradictions.)

People sometimes get the impression that feminism at its foundation means hating white, heterosexual men. I've discussed before how the patriarchal structure of our society tends to favor people with these characteristics over those without them. Unfortunately, with this tiny bit of misinformation, people then draw the conclusion that I have it out for straight, white men in general. This is wrong. I happen to be in a long-term relationship with a straight, white man. Many beloved friends and family members of mine are straight, white men. My problem is not with individuals, but with a system that benefits them at the expense of others.

Students and members of the community criticized methods used in last week's Mar. 4 protest, such as blocking bus terminals and pulling fire alarms. Yet, these disturbances should not overshadow the purpose of the protest to restore funding to higher education. In fact, it was the protestors' ability to cause this discomfort that made the protest a success. In causing so much disruption, protestors intended to force a response from people in power, such as state legislators or UC regents. Even though we do not support breaking the law and endangering lives, attempting to block a freeway is one action that officials cannot ignore.

Ah, Hollywood. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. As I've mentioned before, I'd like to write in L.A. and carve out a niche for myself down there somewhere in the near/distant future. So, of course, I watched the Academy Awards so I can be hip to all that goes down. I was impressed by the Oscars this year, in that they weren't the most boring they've ever been. Alec Baldwin and Steve Martin snubbing George Clooney was more fun than watching Wolverine sing songs and tap dance, and The Hurt Locker was a pretty good film. (I liked A Serious Man and Inglourious Basterds better, but not everyone has such exquisite taste.)

If someone told me that I couldn't defeat the Jabberwocky to save some opium-induced fantasy world, I wouldn't believe it. That's because I survived Catholic school. After that, taking out a Jabberwocky would surely be a cakewalk. I probably did miss out on the typical high school experience by opting to go to school with 700 chicks and flurries of Hail Marys, but Catholic school - like most things in life - had its moments. I shall never forget being told off for showing cleavage because the top button on my Oxford shirt wasn't buttoned.

This week's column is dedicated to all the males that roam this Earth, especially you Aggies. So enjoy, boys!

College living situations are never perfect. For example, I thought the dorms would be the greatest thing to ever happen to me. My meals were cooked by NOT me, I'd be on campus and I'd meet lots of cool people to do lots of cool things with.

They used to call me Bug Girl. In elementary school, I ran around at recess catching ladybugs in sandwich-baggies and poking grasshoppers with sticks. I used to go out in the backyard and catch bees in old pickle jars. Heck, I even had pet African millipedes - the black, coiled creatures that tickle as they crawl up your arm.