A 22-year-old experiential education facilitator by-way-of art school, employee of an Ivy, vegetarian, procrastinator, and rock-climbing wilderness first responder living in picturesque rural New Jersey. She's holding her breath as she tests her clumsy legs post-college.
This semester I've been taking RAD, which is Rape Agression Defense Systems self-defense class for women. First of all, it's weird that rape is the first word in their company/system name. I'm not like Heather MacDonald, who recently wrote a Los Angeles Times op-ed piece "What campus rape crisis?" I know not a lot of women self-report, and that the scum that does commit rape and assault has done it 16 times by the time they're caught by law enforcement. I'd like to believe that the number one fear of women should not be to be raped. And I'd like to think that that's not the worst thing that could happen to me, but I guess not much else could top that. Either way, I'm super pumped about my RAD simulation next Tuesday, and I think that every person should have these basic self-defense techniques in their belt. I was never petrified of walking around Baltimore at night, but now I know that I'm a force to be reckoned with.
Unless that person has a gun or knife, in which case I don't know as well how to confront that situation. Oh well.
The hair is finally starting to grow out, I overdyed it pink because it was looking a little ashy/mousy, and every time I sweat or sleep there's pink everywhere. D'oh.
And now, for excessive quotation marks, care of Parkhurst at MICA.