I'm a 20 year old Anthropology student with a modicum of interesting things to say. I'm queer, Latino, and very distrusting of what I have to say. It'd be better if you not listen to what I have to say.
"If you’re poor, the only way you’re likely to injure someone is the old traditional way: artisanal violence, we could call it – by hands, by knife, by club, or maybe modern hands-on violence, by gun or by car. But if you’re tremendously wealthy, you can practice industrial-scale violence without any manual labor on your own part. You can, say, build a sweatshop factory that will collapse in Bangladesh and kill more people than any hands-on mass murderer ever did, or you can calculate risk and benefit about putting poisons or unsafe machines into the world, as manufacturers do every day. If you’re the leader of a country, you can declare war and kill by the hundreds of thousands or millions. And the nuclear superpowers – the US and Russia – still hold the option of destroying quite a lot of life on Earth."
"I don’t really like people, but it’s difficult to get comfortable with loneliness. I mean, I’ve tried to have friends, but it never works out. And I’m tired of going out alone. I’m ok staying in at my place. It smells good when I burn incense and I have a lot of records and I can just play video games.”
The bus she was waiting for arrived. “Do you need to go?”
"It’s ok. Another one will come in ten minutes… But then, you know, sometimes I just want a partner— a relationship. It would be nice to share this part of my life with someone. I’ve been single for years, and you know, there are people I could call if I wanted to. But people always end up saying things that rub me the wrong way, or if I open up to them, suddenly they want me to be their best friend, and I don’t want people to have expectations of me. I don’t want to waste anyone else’s time if I’m not interested in being close to them."
Another bus came and went while she told me about the loneliness, wiping tears from her eyes. Then another. “I’m sorry, I’ve talked too long.”
"It’s really ok. Sometimes we just need to connect."
Inuit Throat-Singing: A Gutteral Game Gets a Cultural Resurgence
“It’s a friendly competition between girls, something they would do while the men were out hunting,” said Kathy in at interview at the conference. Karin added: ”It’s part of Inuit culture. It’s an oral tradition, it’s something that can’t be written down, it has to be learned from someone else,.”
A “game” of throat-singing begins with two women facing each other, standing close and sometimes holding each other’s arms. One begins to sing, while the other follows. The game can last up to a few minutes, and ends when one loses her breath, laughs, or breaks concentration in any way. Some sources, such as Pulaarvik Kablu Friendership Centre, cite that it was once practiced with their lips practically touching, the women using their opponent’s mouth cavity as a sound resonator.
I try to feel bad for feeling honest when I say that I want to see the world more than I do get a college degree. I’ve been saying for the past year that I want to drive cross-country across the nation and explore the recesses of nature, and I really do want to take myself seriously and laugh this aspiration off as a day dream or joke.
but i’m pretty tired of covering up my disgust for academia and the capitalist machine that shapes many of students’ endeavors within it (too, the machine that subjugates me here)
I might have to drop outt of my Anthropology of the Middle East class. I’ve been underperforming in the class and, if I cannott gaurantee myself at least a B, I’d be better off withdrawing than anything.
I’ve been entertaining the idea of abstaining from relationships. Instead, I’ve been imagining a life of free love, fantasizing myself at the epicenter of a mass of lusting bodies, moving from person to person not to make an intimate bond but to enjoy difference.
But, also, I realize that my best nights have been with people who are simultaneously tender and distant. We end up speaking freely, full with care, but knowing or caring for one another not a moment past that of orgasm. I like that.