| I wrote this for a Jonathan Swift imitation assignment in 12th grade. It's giggleworthy. |
[Mar. 27th, 2007|08:49 pm] |
Rosemary Melia
Per. 2
4/6/05
The Other Team:
A Modest Proposal in Favor of Sex in the Schools
Much can be said about the decline of the American
high school education. Though reading and writing are
all well and good, they are not, arguably, vital to
the survival and physical well-being of the average
adolescent. There are, however, two subjects whose
mediocrity has jeopardized the livelihood of the
American teenager: physical education and sex
education.
As of a year ago, 2.1 million teens exhibit evidence
of dangerous medical complications due to obesity, a
situation to which lackluster PE programs are a
contributing factor (webmd.com). The pregnancy rate
among women ages 15 to 19 is 97 for every 1000. Each
year, 1 out of 4 sexually active teens aquires a
sexually transmitted infection; 25% of the same
demographic used no protection for their first
intercourse (agi-usa.org). Clearly, something is
wrong with the way PE and health are taught.
The only logical approach to solving these problems
is to follow the precedent set by other school
subjects under duress: combine them into a single
course. Studies have shown that when subjects are
taught in an integrated manner (i.e. economics with a
calculus component or art history taught in the
language of the featured artist), students will find
the course more engaging. This trend will be even
more true in the case of physical sex education, due
to teenagers’ natural curiosity and enthusiasm
surrounding the subject.
The plan for physical sex education proposes that
high school students will spend one class period every
day having vigorous, aerobic sex with their
classmates. Class time will also be devoted to the
study a variety of sexual techniques and safe sex
practices, which will be drilled into the minds of
students through multiple exercises and exams. The
semester would culminate in a group project displaying
mastery of the topics covered. Classes would be
taught and supervised by trained instructors, who
would coach students and make sure nothing got out of
hand. If successful, physical sex education could be
expanded into a school sport. Student athletes would
practice safe sex all year to order to make the
varsity sex squad, and then spend the season screwing
opponents from the other team with the hopes of
becoming state champions and winning the title of Most
Valuable Lover.
The health benefits to students would be immense,
possibly surpassing those of a normal PE class.
Unlike an average hour-long session of humiliation and
smelly tube socks that is typical of high school gym,
frequent sexual activity has been proven, according to
expert Ava Cadell, Ph.D., to boost the immune system,
lengthen life span, act as a painkiller, PMS reliever
and anti-depressant, and even decrease the likelihood
of disability after a serious physical injury. In
addition, the average high school student could burn
170 calories per hour during sex (according to
healthweightforum.org); that’s more than twice the
calories he would burn taking ping pong class, not to
mention infinitely more than he would burn sitting,
dejected and bored, on the bench during a basketball
game, or skipping an African dance class to get stoned
in the alley behind the YMCA. Physical sex education
would also fulfill and surpass the abilities of the
common tedious health class by providing something
unique: hands-on experience and instruction. It is
no wonder current sex ed classes don’t work: would we
expect teenagers to effectively learn to drive without
sitting in a car? A banana is hardly a satisfactory
demonstrational aid.
But these benefits are only the beginning. Physical
sex education would reach beyond the mere education of
students. Firstly, the general happiness and morale
of the student body would increase. As with any
school sport, a winning sex team, with its trophies
and cheerleaders and proud parents in the stands,
would increase school spirit and pride. Especially
skilled student sex athletes could win college
scholarships and participate in NCAA sex.
Physical sex education will, perhaps most importantly
to many school board and state government officials,
decrease school costs. The combination of two
subjects into one will mean the redundancy of any
number of experienced PE and health teachers and the
hiring of a much smaller number of inexperienced
teachers at a lower salary, which will mean the
freeing up of funds to put into more important sectors
of education. Of course, some of this money will need
to be spent on condoms, dental dams, and leather
bustiers for the phys-sex-ed program.
Certain critics of my proposal might question the use
of coaches to supervise the sex education students.
Perhaps due to their own sick, deep-seated desires,
they might argue that sex coaches might turn out to be
pedophiles, that anyone who would nobly aid in the
active sexual education of young people must want to
do so to fulfill voyeuristic fantasies and not to
create a happier, smarter, more cost-effective student
body. Though it would be nice if our culture were not
one of fear and obscenity, if degenerates did not
exist, but it is, apparently, not so; and so I offer a
reasonable solution.
An article recently published in the Utne Reader
reported that, according to a survey conducted in the
UK, one percent of people “have never been attracted
to or aroused by anyone.” These individuals, known as
asexuals, are becoming an increasingly vocal minority
with their own civil rights movement, demanding
acceptance and recognition within society. Herein
lies their use: because asexuals could not possibly
be sexually aroused by the sight of two teenagers
wantonly fornicating on an erstwhile wrestling mat
under glaring fluorescent lights, they would make
ideal, and completely objective, instructors.
Naturally, a rigorous screening process would ensure
that only true asexuals be hired. To critics who
would hastily point out that asexuals may become bored
teaching a subject they know little or care nothing
about, I would reply that many math teachers have made
successful careers out of doing so.
Other critics, particularly the zealot reactionaries
of the religious right, might see this proposal as
going about a dozen steps too far in down the spiral
of indecency. This notion must be rejected out of
hand. The reason is that, though morality and modesty
might be pleasant ideals, they are just not practical.
It would be lovely if we could simply serve all
students healthy cafeteria lunches and offer them
appealing, non-competitive PE options like yoga and
swing dancing, if we could instill self-confidence,
self-esteem, and conscientiousness in every
adolescent, if we could prevent obesity and sexual
distress in the teen population by giving them good
food, good instruction and good knowledge; but sadly,
that would be impossible. There is simply not the
money to handle this in a “healthy” manner. With the
nation in such an urgent and meaningful war, and with
multimillion dollar corporations in desperate need of
welfare, there simply are no funds available to put a
Planned Parenthood representative, a yogi and a loaf
of whole wheat bread in every high school. In light
of this predicament, we must resign ourselves to a
future world full of late nights spent studying for
the AP Masochism exam, married couples telling stories
of meeting in remedial Applied Fellatio II, and the
cheers of an ecstatic crowd and the ring of a
game-ending buzzer echoing through the gymnasium amid
the cracking of a dominatrix whip. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 3rd, 2006|03:31 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | quixotic | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Actually pretty good metal from Kilpat | ] |
Maybe I'll start writing in my livejournal like it's an actual journal, make up for lost time in middle school when I didn't realize the internet existed. Highlights:
I won a mountain bike.
I will probably be moving to Portland this winter to work for Microcosm Publishing, unless they move their operation, in which case I will follow them like a puppy to Indiana.
I chilled with the band Lake last night and they were very sweet human beings, and their music is like P:ano but American.
DB Live is coming up, and though I didn't manage to get myself involved in the performance, I plan to hang out backstage like the perpetual kid sister that I am and knock back some brewskis with some chill heads.
Deertick is playing tonight, and I have especially been hankering for some melancountry.
There are paper ghosts in Welling, which pleases me immensely.
A prospective stu. is sleeping in my room Sunday, and hopefully she will be also a chill head. The last one wasn't so hot.
Ulysses is a dope novel.
Edgar Dahl is a dumbfuck.
I got an illustrated poscard from Erica in the mail today, which pleased me in a heart twisting little way.
I also got a vintage Quaker Oats t-shirt from ebay. Look out world.
Materialism is really pretty lame, but when you think of your wardrobe as a kind of art show, how is buying a cute new pair of shoes so different than buying a tube of paint? |
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| stupid shit, as always, but not a bad idea, should the biopic of my life occur. |
[Nov. 3rd, 2006|02:36 am] |
IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?
So, here's how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend your cool...just type it in man!
Opening Credits: full of ai or full of love or full of I - Nikaido Kazumi
Waking Up: Pueblo (Beach Boys) - Pavement
First Day At School: El Sol - Zwan
Falling In Love: We Live NE of Compton - Liars
Losing Virginity: I Was Made To Love Magic - Nick Drake
Fight Song: Settle Down - Zwan (Why all the Zwan? Did Billy C. produce this film or some shit?)
Breaking Up: Twenty Four - Jandek
Prom: A Snapshot - TJO
Life: Off Your Face - My Bloody Valentine
Mental Breakdown: Golden Lights - The Smiths (That just seems demented.)
Driving: Understanding Salesmen - Eels
Flashback: I Felt My Size - Microphones
Getting Back Together: Professor Heezen - Stem Cell Research
Wedding: I Believe - My Bloody Valentine
Birth of Child: Lo How A Rose E'er Blooming - Sufjan Stevens (ew?)
Final Battle: Black Foliage(itself) - Olivia Tremor Control
Death Scene: Trees In The Ground Outside The Window - Thanksgiving
Funeral Song: Love und Romance - The Slits
End Credits: That's Not Me - The Beach Boys (true dat) |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 5th, 2006|08:11 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | I need to pee | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Rick munching chips in the kitchen | ] |
#8 is optional.
Leave your name and:
1. I'll respond with something random about you
2. I'll challenge you to try something
3. I'll pick a color that I associate with you
4. I'll tell you something I like about you
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you (in my case, it'll be, like, last week)
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of
7. I'll ask you something I've always wanted to ask you
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on yours |
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| Mom and Cathy at their fist place, Easter 1975 |
[Apr. 20th, 2006|08:14 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | crushed | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Let's Spend The Night Together - Rolling Stones | ] |
mom and cathy; aren't they adorable?
mom and jill, cathy's friend from Antioch
jill and cathy horsin' around |
|
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 15th, 2006|11:41 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | none | ] |
| [ | music |
| | none | ] |
One thing I've really learned how to do well is type while wearing archival white gloves. |
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| that's what she said |
[Dec. 21st, 2005|02:37 pm] |
Open iTunes/iPod or Windows Media Player to answer the following. Go to your library. Answer, no matter how embarrasing it is.
Sort by song title:
First Song: "Come On Petunia"- The Blow
Last Song: Zurich is Stained- Pavement
Sort by time:
Shortest Song: Unnamed- The Blow
Longest Song: Der Abschied- Mahler
Sort by album:
First Song: Waiting Room- Fugazi
Last Song: Words Cannot Describe- Mirah
Sort By Artist:
First Song: Leaf House- Animal Collective
Last Song: Leave Me Alone-Thanksgiving
Top Five Most Played Songs:
1. I Found A Reason- Cat Power
2. Viva La Persistence- Kimya Dawson
3. Lullaby for the Taken- Kimya Dawson
4. (I can't get no) Satisfaction- Cat Power
5. Wild as the Wind- Cat Power
First song that comes up on Shuffle: Seen Yr Video- The Placemats
Search ....
"sex", how many songs come up? 1
"love",how many songs comeup? 113
"death", how many songs come up? 3
"you", how many songs come up? 152 |
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| slap my sides and call me tibbs |
[Jul. 27th, 2005|11:29 am] |
I guess this is just what happens when drew isn't around to keep me busy.
Anyone read that Daniel Clowes comic book Like A Velvet Glove Cast in Iron? I wasn't that impressed with Caricature, but this shit is off the hook. Can I get a holla, anyone?
In tandem with that, I read Little Bear's Friend while babysitting tonight, which, coincidentally, is the first book I remember reading out loud as a kid. Is it weird that the 6 year old I was watching couldn't just read it herself, though? I didn't want to push the issue.
I'd also like to exhalt the merits of kleenex. Heat makes me sneazy. |
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| I'm starting again |
[Apr. 17th, 2005|05:23 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | Throat polyp! | ] |
| [ | music |
| | none... | ] |
Yeah man, fuck this shit, 'cos live journals are a waste of time. but nonetheless. I was reading Jon's and I got all excited.
There is something red and angry on the back of my throat and I'm kind of concerned. I really hope it isn't a disease, and that it's just a result of my week and a half long cold and my constant coffing.
I don't know that I have anything to really write as far as frivilous things. and I don't want to be too serious with this since that would be creepy.
To take a page from Jon:
Reasons I hate Jon Schill:
He thinks Amy Hellickson is hotter than me, though she is a hyperactive weasel of a girl.
He likes cars too much.
He thinks Drew sucks, which is understandable, but... actually I can't actually hate him for that. He needs the hatred to console the lost love of his #4 crush.
Actually, I can't really hate Jon Schill. I was just trying to jump on "the band wagon".
God, this thing on my THROAT!
I saw Fred Thomas last night, and made a fool of myself with my fannish blabbering. He truly is such an HONEST songwriter, and I have this perfrectly Fred-shaped place in my soft heart where he fits perfectly. The guy went on before him was cool, very, very Mt Eerie, in the awesome sense of an old time trubador who plays the same songs as every other trubador but injects his own little trubadoriness into it, though the end result is largely the same. |
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| My cover's blown. |
[Oct. 17th, 2004|03:10 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | lascivious | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Julie Doiron- "The Songwriter" | ] |
Hi, "DV', in case you are reading this in following through with your threat. It's not too bad, really, for a livejournal. You probably disagree with the bit about not liking "seymour", but then I was sick, and you can't blame me for not being able to follow it.
Emm...
I'm doin' some homework, critiqueing a really, really shitty peer essay for AP comp. Really shitty. Like, spotty noun/verb agreement shitty. How do they let these fuckers in the class? It is so sad.
Somebody reccomend to me something to read. I lost my two existentialist purchases before I got a chance to read them, and I feel very superficial after not reading in a while.
Here is the product of 6 weeks of french class:
Je m'appelle Sabine-Thérèse. J'aime aller au les concert, faire les magasins, lire et basier. Je n'aime pas faire du sport. Je préfére dormir.
That's it.
God, this is silly. I doubt I'll ever write in this again. Call me, DV. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 6th, 2004|12:17 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | "other" | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Insect Eyes- Devendra Banhart | ] |
I got better, and just in time to take the way ghetto Greyhound bus up to Seattle to see BELLE AND SEBASTIAN, with the fucking DECEMBERISTS opening!!!! B&S really are the greatest band of all time. You forget sometimes, since what they do is so basic, but it really can't be beat. They played the trinity of songs that embody me as a bookish schoolgirl (Expectations, She's Losing It, and Beautiful), so that was nice. And DV and I saw Stuart and Bobby on the street in front of J. Crew, and we waved, and they said hi, so we wandered down Pine street quite star-struck for a while afterwards.
After the show we saw an indie boy holding a bundle of balloons.
The ride home was uncomfortable, since it was all night and on the shitty bus, but there was a niceness to it anyway. I curled up against DV's chest (as a poor pillow substitute), but though I had to twist around in my seat at an awkward angle, I could hear his lungs moving up and down, full and empty. It's very comforting to listen to someone breathe. |
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| lazy days of malaise |
[Apr. 26th, 2004|03:30 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | rumpled | ] |
| [ | music |
| | "Glue"- the Gerbils/Neutral Milk Hotel | ] |
so after two and some weeks of being sick, I still feel like shit, but less so. My friends are continuing to be dandy about lavishing their attentions upon me, though I am continuing to fall behind in schoolwork (like a mofo). My constant lying around has caused in me a certian lazy, depressed sort of boredom (there's a specific word for it, but I don't remember). I need to do my fucking schoolwork, but I don't think I've had a real academic thought for the past two/three weeks, so it's awfully difficult to get into the mood.
I reread "Seymour–An Introduction" last night in a fit of nocturnal "couldn't sleep at night because I nap too much" distress. It really isn't so fabulous of a read. There are some nice images, but the whole style of it is tedious, though self-conciously and self-depricatingly so. Just thought I'd mention it.
It was lovely having DV visit earlier today... I know hardly anyone reads this, but nonetheless, i won't discuss details.
I'm also sorry I missed an ice cream appointment. It would have been nice, but I wasn't quite in the mood.
I will now jump on my trampoline, take an icy shower, and pretend to work on my Literature project! Pip pip!
ML: Did you ever get a copy of those history paper instructions? May I have them maybe? It's getting fairly urgent. |
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| Petty illness turned way stupid (lying around) |
[Apr. 15th, 2004|12:18 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | mono-ed, lonely | ] |
| [ | music |
| | "Long Song"- Devendra Banhart | ] |
I have been struck with one of the most banal viruses (mononucleosis). This means that I will be forced to hang around my house in moderate, nonspecific pain for about a month. This is trés lame.
ML suggested that I keep a "mono-log", which was very clever, and I commend her for.
As you could tell by my last post a couple weeks ago, I was quite torn up about being separated from DV. It got even worse, of course, that weekend, when he was in town but was too tired to frolic off somewhere and listen to Mirah and kiss for a couple hours. The weekend afterwards, however, we had the good fortune of having a French New Wave Film slumber party, so that was a nice amount of lying around, ogling at how irrepressibly hot Anna Karena is in "My Life To Live" as a record shop girl turned prostitute.
Oh, fond memories!!!
But now I will be contagious with this fucking virus for the next 2-3 months which means an extended lack of kissing, etc.
I also have papers to write, schoolwork to do, sorts of shit. But fuck that, that will not go down at the moment. I'm not in much of a position to think coherently (as is evidenced most likely by this entry).
Cat Power is so fucking brilliant, especially since she doesn't technically know how to play any instruments. Why don't I own any Cat Power albums? I'm just relying on occasional mixed tape songs. So fucking brilliant!
But seriously, this mono thing is really terrible. I'm too out of it to do anything creative and worthwhile, and I can't leave the house to rent movies or anything (I have a massive Annie Hall craving right now), and all the TV is shit. All I can stand TV-wise is the cooking channel, which is only torture since I can't eat any real food because of my ravaged rotting throat. Plus, I'm massively lonely. My parents and my little brother (my housemates) are getting irritating, though well-intentioned (don't they know that the question "how are you feeling" is pretty much irrelevant in regards to an illness that lasts for weeks?) ML stopped by on Tuesday to talk and share some muffins with me, which was much appreciated. And DV's been calling every night, which has been nice, but not as nice as seeing him. I'm especially frustrated at the thought that it will be two to six weeks until I'll be well enough to laze around with him. It was all working out so perfectly (the last day I saw him, he scooped up a handful of plum blossom petals from the ground and and dusted them over my head like snow), and this goddamn mono has to come along and put everything on hold. Oh, raspberries!
Excuse the rantiness of this entry; you must understand that I am practically unable to carry out a conversation due to my sore throat (and have been since Sunday), so I have a fucking lot of things to express and no concept as to the limits through which to express them. |
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| this is the end of the week (the beginning of something?) |
[Apr. 2nd, 2004|10:24 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | frightened; rabbitish? | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Bright Eyes- Poison Oak | ] |
About a year and a half ago I was talking to this girl Q who is a very quirky girl, i.e. she identifies everyone she sees with a fictional or historical character. According to her, I was Emily Dickinson, on account of the fact that I'm not precisely a social butterfly, I write poems (or did then) and posess "ginger beer" tendancies (I don't wear only white or live in an attic [I wish]). All this is to say that her odd prediction has come true, and I totally feel like ol' Emily. Today I attended school and walked around town for a while, shopping and things with my compatriot (I hesitate to use the word friend) P, but I still felt completely isolated from everyone around me, and not entirely disappointed about it. I'm sure I must be horribly stuck up, but I really feel like no one around me is worth talking to. I get annoyed really easily (especially by P; more on that later); just people's being vapid pisses me off, or at least makes me smirk.
A boy at the pizza shop today was insulting mushrooms, and then he dropped his two slices of pepperoni pizza on the ground.
I'm sorry my writing style is so ornate and forced and affected. It's just coming out that way from the combo of too much reading/not enough relaxed conversation.
My partner-in-crime DV has been out of town for the past few days, which might be contributing to this current state. I don't want to admit that my emotional state is so closely tied to his being near me, but it really is. The boy means quite a bit to me (I won't give you an extensive three-year back history; we've been intensely close friends for that long). In fact I got all teary the other night thinking about how much I love him.
I feel horribly embarrassed writing all this down; does anyone else get that way about this livejournal business? I'm just sort of shy usually.
How do you like the Peter Rabbit picture? I thought it was a cute touch.
Also, shout out to my friend ML, as she travels the outback of eastern Washington (U.s.a.) |
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| The First Post |
[Mar. 31st, 2004|04:25 pm] |
|
This is the first post on Silver Mount Crayon, the only live journal with a name inspired by a Canadian post-rock band and a child's art supply. |
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