I have been negligent: I apologize. In the past two weeks, so much has happened. A bomb threat unleashed panic on campus; my family returned to Louisiana after a glorious two weeks in the northeast; I began my senior thesis research in the Hughson lab. It has been really exciting to put into action the experiments I proposed in my junior paper.
I feel extremely grown up. I am living off-campus with three roommates: two are molecular biology majors and one of which is a chemical and biological engineer–I know, we’re a very scientific assortment. Yesterday, I woke up around 9AM, late (it’s a long story), skipped breakfast, made it to the lab around 9:30AM and immediately began my miniprep of the pETDuet vector.
Sidenote: I’ve been having quite a bit of trouble with these and today I completed two additional minipreps of pETDuet which seem to be much, much better. Finally!
I ate a delicious taco salad a la Frist and went back to lab to complete some experiments, prepare an agarose gel, and it started to pour. I am not being hyperbolic. It was pouring. Although it may be comical, I won’t detail how long I ran in the rain; major thanks go out to Sierra who actually picked me up, dripping wet, from the psychology building. Later, one of my best friends (Alicia), two of my roommates (Jasmine and Sierra), and I spent far too much time listening and dancing to musical stylings of One Direction, Bruno Mars, Austin Brown, Miley Cyrus, Carrie Underwood, Kelly Clarkson, and Fifth Harmony.
Somewhere down the line, I mentioned that I am an unashamed ‘little monster.’ That term hasn’t been thrown around lately so I’ll elaborate–little monster (noun): an individual who adores all things Lady Gaga. The conversation that followed was interesting (hence the post). I remember when I was younger and my parents told me that it’s good to be weird, it means you’re different. Special.
I think that a lot of artists (e.g. Nicki Minaj, Picasso, Johnny Depp) are undoubtedly weird and in my eyes, this strangeness is the unbridled creativity that seeps from their souls. I understand that. Afterall, I’m an artist of sorts: a self-proclaimed writer. I think it’s easy, as a writer, to be accepted regardless of how quirky you may be, due to the absence of authors in the media. Authors are esteemed in academia and ignored everywhere else. Lady Gaga is on cover after cover of the magazines. Her eccentricies are hardly unnoticed and far too often criticized.
I’m just going to say it: I love it. I love all of it. Lady Gaga reminds me of Michael Jackson in a lot of ways. She treats life like a performance. She doesn’t want to be seen as Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta, instead, she lives her life as her stage identity. She works unbelievably hard. She writes her music so that there is substance. She is an activist. A feminist. An extremely strong woman who doesn’t allow herself to be sexualized in the way of most female artists; she presents her sexuality and her body in a way that is raw, confusing, discomforting. Declamatory.
Not everything makes sense to me: the meat dress, the Kermit ensemble, or even her makeup upon occasion. Regardless, I appreciate the strength it takes to be yourself, especially when you know millions of individuals will judge you for your hairstyle, your body, or your clothes. I like that she is unapologetic. I understand why she feels the need to distinguish herself from her famous peers.
Okay, so maybe she is eccentric. Maybe she is weird. Whatever: it’s nice to see someone real in the blinding glitz Hollywood Hills.
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