I don’t know what’s wrong with being funny. What’s wrong with cracking a joke every now and then? So I’m a little sarcastic, nothing wrong with that. Having a sense of humor will keep a relationship together more than the sex will; at least, that’s what I’m told but maybe those people just aren’t getting any. Nevertheless I am a little peeved by the fact that men want a serious woman. Or maybe they just want a slave. A sense of humor shows that we have a brain and – dare I say it – we can think for ourselves. I may seem a little feministic but it’s not my dream to cook, clean and birth babies for the rest of my life. Of course I want those things in my life but I don’t want them to be the summation of my life. I want other things in my life. Specifically speaking I want humor in my life. I want the humor that I have now. I want the jokes at the office, in my apartment and while I am on dates. I think men fear women with a sense of humor because they’re scared a woman will show them up. They don’t want to be outsmarted by a woman so they marry a submissive bimbo; at least, they think they are marrying a empty headed subservient woman who will address her husband as “your highness and your greatness.” Its only after they’re married for years that she finally starts showing her true colors. They find out that their woman has a mind of her own. This may not be the greatest reason for divorce but it may factor into it. I’m a woman and I act like a woman but I’m not going to lick some man’s floors, shoes and…other things clean. I expect our relationship to be equally balanced. I want respect and I will give him respect. Alas this won’t get me married but it will keep me from marrying some chauvinistic male.

When I graduate in a year I will probably—almost hopefully—be single. As a member of the LDS community this is a lot different for me then for someone else. Once I graduate I hope to go back to Maryland, get an amazing job in D.C. and pay off my college date. When I originally came here, the freshman year that I dread to look back at, I was a dreadfully, hopeless romantic. I didn’t know what I wanted to do but I hoped to fall madly in love and live happily after. That ridiculous and foolish dream was shattered after my first year. I pulled myself out of my reclusive shell and obtained what I call “a life” which consists mostly of working and homework but its better than what I had before—a bunch of crazy dreams or I should call them nightmares. I’m glad that I didn’t get sucked in by some guy who wanted a man to cook and clean for him, luckily I was looked over my freshman year. I became, through work and dating, an independent woman. Of course I still want to get married in the temple and have a family but I realize that there’s more to life then living some lame romantic life with no purpose. I’ve discovered purpose in my life. Journalism, friends, family and making people happy have become a common running theme in my life. I have goals, not goals to fill in for parts of my life that are lacking things, but goals that I truly want to accomplish. When or before I graduate next year I want to learn to dance, perform stand-up comedy in front of an audience, ride a horse, jump out of plane (with a parachute of course), climb a mountain, ride a horse, stick my face in a cake, road trip across the U.S., go to Korea and learn to cook Korean food. I have goals. I want to enrich myself. I want to keep reaching beyond my boundaries and overcoming the things that scare me, because so much scares me. I don’t want to live in fear because fear is just another part of pride. I’ve given up my conventionally romantic ways for something that I think is more sophisticated. These goal are a little grand but they keep me going, keep me moving, give me something to look forward to. I may not know what the futures holds but I know that because I try to reach further every day that it can only be better than what if could’ve been.