"I hate peas."

So Heath Ledger is dead. And that's sad, truly. But the death of yet another celebrity doesn't have that much impact on my life. So I leave my commentary on him to the fact that a talented man is gone from this world and we are at a loss for it.

Don't expect me to offer my sympathies to his zillions of famous friends, or his daughter, though it is a shame that she is growing up without her biological father. But, knowing the celebosphere, mommy Michelle Williams will have a new boytoy soon enough.

I've had my fill of transparent condolences and disconnected sympathy.

You see, I attend Virginia Tech. Yes, I was there that day. It's not something I care to relive, ever, thank you. And every time the media is around, it unnerves me more.

But for the days and weeks and months afterwards, I was disinclined to wear anything with my school's logo or to tell people where I went. The inevitable questions of "Oh my gosh, were you THERE?" (um yes, it was a school day, and I lived on campus) and the sympathies that followed just felt fake, like they were saying what they felt they needed to so they could get their gold star for the day and move on.

Yes, I'm bitter, and I resolved to never do that myself. For my good friends and family, I am truly sorry and help them out, and it's sad that people die every single day. But celebrities? You have got to be kidding.

I don't understand why people obsessively follow the famous. For the most part, they are just like the rest of us: they get up, they go to work, they bring home a paycheck. Yes, theirs is considerably larger than I will ever see totaled, in my whole life. But that's all they are. Why the fascination? They eat, sleep, work, have fun, love the same as all of us.

Maybe it's just after years and years of hearing "news" coverage about these people, thanks in most part to a combination of my sister and my last two college roommates all having insatiable needs for E! News and MTV. If I ever have to hear mention of any member of the Spears family again, I might vomit. And frankly, that's how I feel about most celebrities. Leave them alone people. Our strange worship for them is what keeps them from being normal like the rest of us.

Maybe if there was no such thing as a "public eye," these people wouldn't commit suicide at the alarming rate that they do.

And while I'm at it: Media, leave my school alone. Go back to only focusing on our kick-ass football team.

I thought this would be a good day to start

So today is Blog for Choice, in honor of the 35th anniversary of Roe v. Wade. I thought it would be a good day to start this blog, since I've been putting it off.

I'm not really a blogger. I don't really enjoy reading blogs, and I'm not crazy about writing them. But this is a good reason for me to write.

I am pro-choice because I think that I, as a woman, and women everywhere should be trusted to make their own decisions regarding their bodies. There's so much pro-choice and pro-life rhetoric, but I think being pro-choice includes your personal decision to be pro-life. That's why it's called a choice. You can choose to do whatever you want to your body. If you need to have an abortion, for whatever reason -- you were raped or a victim of incest, there was a birth control failure, you simply cannot afford to have another child...I don't care what your reason is. You should have the right to make the decision yourself.

There's a joke that if men got pregnant, there would be no question about abortion. I don't know how much I agree with that, but a valid point is made. The United States government is still disproportionately white and male, and many of these men are making decisions that affect more than half the population.

I wish I could speak more eloquently on this right now, but believe me, I will be revisiting this topic. In two of my courses this semester, I am doing research projects related to abortion, especially Roe v. Wade and the Global Gag Rule, as well as other legislation pertinent to this topic.

Until then...Lizzy.