a day in the pub with some of my favorite people.

Oh, symposium! What is there to say about it except that I think it went fabulously! I was a little apprenhensive about it being disorganized because for awhile our class was a little indecisive about what we wanted our presentation to be like. But at the end, I think everything came together. Most of us were really well-prepared and well-versed about our topics - and were excited to talk about them! I think because it was such a beautiful day, there weren't as many people as some of the other presentations might have gotten - I think I remember a friend of mine in another class saying that Friday's sessions all had pretty good turn outs. But Friday had not been as sunny and beautiful as our Saturday! However, the people that did come to our session were really nice and really, really polite. They asked questions but were never rude or condescending. They were genuinely intent on trying to learn more about our research. I had one lady professor come up to me and ask some really great questions, which helped me to expand my topic even further to her. We even discussed how universal blogging had become, and it seemed like I had really convinced her of my argument. Her last question was "So are you a blogger?" - to which I answered, "Yes! Of course!" and laughing, she said she was too! It made me feel really good that I had chosen a topic that people could relate to.

As for the rest of the class, I couldn't have been more proud. I know a lot of us have been saying how much we adore the bonding our class has done over the semester, but I haven't felt this close to a class since high school, and it really means a lot to me. So I was really, really proud of how well everyone presented at the symposium. Another thing I'm not sure that you mentioned but that you should know, is that since the turn-out was a little low and we had almost no one walk through towards the end, a lot of us started to leave our stations to walk around and ask each other questions or have one another present to each other. I am pretty sure almost everyone wandered around at least once to ask questions or ask to see other people's powerpoints. This impressed me and made me so proud to be a part of this class. It showed that we are all not only respectful for each other's work, but that we care enough about each other's efforts to want to hear about them. Everyone worked really hard to put their symposium presentations together, so it was nice that our class acknowledged that and wanted to acknowlege each other. I love our class! But more on that in tomorrow's entry.

I also attended your other class's presentation. I admit to being a little intimidated by them - I had heard so much about them from so many people and it was as if I was finally getting the chance to see them up close! They turned out to be actually really lovely. Besides what I shared with CJS in class, they were also very well-prepared and extremely knowledgable in the things they were presenting. You could tell that they all really loved their topics too. Plus, the way they chose to present - a powerpoint, in chronological order -was super creative and really well-organized. They really impressed me. Majority of them got some pretty tough questions too but they all rose to the challenge and answered very eloquently. I was glad to see a couple of them attending our presentation, so that they could see the contrast of topics in the two classes. I hope they enjoyed our presentation as much as I enjoyed theirs.

And most importantly, why didn't we do karaoke? Can Ian send us that playlist? It was so perfect.

chapter one: a pair and a snare.

Wow. After reading the first couple of pages of our assigned reading from Stephanie Klein's Straight Up and Dirty, all I could think was "wow." That and "how can I start writing a book like this?"

Not in the content, mind you. I don't really live a "straight up and dirty" kind of life right now, mind you. But the style. Goodness. She writes in the style that my mind wishes it functioned in. Witty. Blunt. Brilliant. Eloquence in the simplicity of just describing a metrosexual man's closet. The Wasband. I swear, maybe I can be Stephanie in another life. Whoever terms the word "wasband" ranks as an idol in my book. But there's more to her than snarky remarks, that much is clear. The book itself is a riotous adventure, unfolding at a dizzying pace, as if to warn you that if you can't keep up, you weren't meant to read it in the first place. That is how life moves, after all. Dizzying. Catch up or move aside, move along. Stephanie happens to be one of those people who looks life in the face and stands her ground, saying, "That's all you've got?"

It's written like an anthem. It's empowering without being feminist, brutally honest without being (too) rude. It's a blog-follower's dream. Why? Because essentially, it's real. It's a diary. Every friend, alcoholic drink, or occurence actually happened within the hustle and bustle of a city many people live and thrive in right now. It's not a fairy tale. Her story is raw, passionate, chalked with emotion and anger and sadness and disappointment, but scattered with hope. It's an anthem to any woman who has ever been angry or sad or disappointed - toss the fact that she is a divorcee aside. You don't need to have a failed marriage to be able to relate to what she's trying to tell. Who hasn't felt those things before? Finally, in an age where so many modern female writings revolve around the "healing after the pain," there is a story about the "fun during the healing."

It's real life. The beauty of it is that it's not a fairytale. Because, come on, do we really need to hear about how the prince scored a perfect bride at the ball one more time? Not really. Give me the newly single and awkward sex stories anyday. Because it happens. It's real. It's happening to you, to me, to everyone we walk past on the street and everyone we wait with at line in Starbucks. They're the kind of stories that you hear from your girlfriend while you inhale Mediterranean takeout on Thursday nights and wait for Grey's Anatomy. They're the kind of stories that men recall while knocking back (root) beer and complaining about women, or their lack thereof. They're the kind of stories that you would share with your friends. This is life. It's a shitshow, for lack of a better term. Unpredictable, whirring, and a complete pain in the ass. The modern fairytale books publishers try to sell? I'll pass.

I said something terribly blunt on Monday to one of my best friends. He's a dude, for the record. He looked at me, completely surprised that I had said something bordering on rude. "What?" I asked him, making one of my trademark faces, "I'm no fairy princess." And he did that sort of grunt laugh things that boys do when they pretend like they're incapable of laughing out loud. "I know," he said, shaking his head, "But I forget that sometimes." Thank you, Stephanie Klein. Thank you for not sugar-coating your memoirs and conforming to becoming a princess locked away in a tower searching for her perfect prince. Thank you for recognizing that those kind of stories aren't real. They're not life. Bad dates, weird hook-ups, disappointment, and a whole lot of hope. That's life. And until I can score some kind of six-figure publishing deal where I can write a book like this, I'm completely content reading hers.