dream country

Yesterday was the annual Easter Rock in my home town, a night of mini-concerts by local bands. It had the potential of being a lot of fun, and it was in the beginning - the vorspiel* and the first concerts. I only drank a couple of beers at the vorspiel, and so became pretty sober after a short while. I soon also got very tired, because I had just come home from a two-day road-trip to Eastern Norway and Sweden.

The rest of the crowd got drunker, and during the latter half of the evening I was trod on, pushed and spilled beer on. I usually wouldn’t be too bothered by it, but I was tired, and when random men decided they were allowed to fondle me, all the fun went out of the evening. I don’t care how drunk you are, what the hell makes you think it’s OK to stroke the arms or pinch the bottom of a girl you don’t know?

It was made worse by the fact that I knew it wouldn’t have happened had my boyfriend been there. Girls should be able to go out partying without a chaperone, for fuck’s sake! It’s not 1950.

* = drinking in someone’s home prior to going out

Yea, so between this and this, I’m tempted to go back to sleep and hope to wake up in a world where appearances aren’t all-important and women aren’t treated as objects.

I mean, sure, I like to dress up and look decent, but the minute I feel that it’s something that’s expected of me, and that my appearance is more important than - say - my intelligence or my personality - that’s when I get angry.

I envy my mother the 70’s (though I’m well aware things weren’t feminist bliss back then, either). They could actually fight for women’s rights, without about 50% of the women going “oh, but we have equality now, what’s the point of feminism?”. That’s a sentence I’ve heard a couple of times too many, and it makes me feel like beating the person over the head with Simone de Beauvoir or Susan Faludi.

An excellent way to embarrass yourself and humour the people around you: Belt out at the top of your lungs that the reason your exam-answer doesn’t fit with what the solution-paper says, is that the solution-paper is wrong. Then proceed to explain why the paper is wrong, proving to everyone that you haven’t really understood the difference between adding and multiplying when it comes to significant figures. Gah.

I got 96,9% on my midterm in Chemistry, hurrah! I answered wrong on one question, once again proving that limiting reactants are my Achilles heel. I am however not complaining. It’s a nice feeling to know I’ve chosen the right major.