Ode to the Inner Anthropologist

(tree vines in the Philippines)

AAAANNNTHROPOLOGY!!!! 

I dedicated the last 4 years of my life to the study of Anthropology. Talk about a discipline that broadens your mind and narrows your capacity to find a post-college career related to it. But, alas, I wouldn't take back one hour that I dedicated to the study of Anthropology. Studying Anthropology felt a lot like walking through the wardrobe into an alternate universe. It strikes close enough to home but is ever-mysterious, surprising and provocative. It felt familiar enough that I wasn't scared to stick around yet mysterious enough to keep me intrigued. On the surface it seems so simple and straightforward, but there is an intellectual and philosophical depth to the subject that is so satisfying to the inquiring mind. I'm finished with college but I'll never be finished with Anthropology. Nu-uh. Bring it on. This is my declaration of commitment to my continued anthropological education! 

Tribute to the provocative Bell Hooks:

"I still think it's important for people to have a sharp, ongoing critique of marriage in patriarchal society — because once you marry within a society that remains patriarchal, no matter how alternative you want to be within your unit, there is still a culture outside you that will impose many, many values on you whether you want them to or not. " — bell hooks

"The transformative power of love is not fully embraced in our society because we often wrongly believe that torment and anguish are our ‘natural’ condition." 
— bell hooks

"as females in a patriarchal culture, we were not slaves of love; most of us were and are slaves of longing-- yearning for a master who will set us free and claim us because we cannot claim ourselves" 
— bell hooks

"In a culture of domination, preoccupation with victimage is inevitable." 
— bell hooks

To all Austinites!

You know the truly wonderful thing about Austin? I do. Austin is a place where you can be, become, or aspire to be whatever you DREAM of. In other words, its a town for people who believe in their dreams and are willing to work towards being the person they want to be. I meet people here who aren't completely settled into a life for the next forty years. No, no... people here are on their waaay somewhere. That is to say... they're part of the only magical process in life that we can choose to participate in or sadly not. The process in general. The finding out, the figuring out, the process of working through the mysteries of life. But better than all of that, get this: They are enjoying the journey. These are the people I want to spend my time with. The ones who walk the path of life without knowing the purpose, without knowing quite what their destination will be, but are content with the journey regardless. Austinites are my travel companions. (Though they might not know it...ahem..)

Since I've moved here, Ive been inspired to be the person I am (and want to be). I've already learned a few lessons and gained a few clarifications. One of which is particularly nagging....

The Post-Graduate Conundrum: Dreamer or Delinquent?

You know... I've always resisted getting a blog for the SOLE reason that by writing my thoughts online I would be essentially pouring my soul into a lifeless computer instead of a personalized traditional journal. I've always noted the differences. The difference between typing my thoughts and writing them on paper. The difference between blogging and journal scripture. My immediate thought: you write blogs for the world to see and write journals for "just you." But... the question I face now is, what is truly worth keeping from the world? And more intriguingly, why, if something is worthless, would I want to share it with other people anyway? Our lives cannot be so infuriatingly boring that we accept the unimportant, commonplace banter that far too many people rely on for brief entertainment value. We're individuals dammit! And that language is moribund.

Jack: "Hey. How are you?"
Jill: "I'm good, how are you?" (What's his name again?)
Jack: "Good. Good to see ya!"

They used less than 10 words to say what they didn't mean...Tisk. Tisk. But...I'm a culprit too. So, I guess that's precisely why blogging is so damn useful after all. Writing my thoughts by hand, in colorful ink, in a journal, when I really need to let out my worst and most pitiful character flaws, has always served as a form of expression and release. But. It never gave me the courage to tell other people exactly who I was and what I felt... even when I really needed to. I knew I could come back and feel better by pouring myself like ink into the vast, never-ending pages of my journals. Not this time.
Here I am world! A post-graduate 22-year old with (excuse the language) no shittin-clue where I'm headed in a no-hope recession for a undergrad grad, and no fucking worry in the world that I can't bag a dead-end office job with the threat of thousand dollar loans looming over my head. Nope!

There's another way to live, and I'm going to start living it today. Am I an idealist? Hell yes. Call me anything but the sad, praised reality of a "realist."