I'm taking microbiology this semester. It's two five-hour classes a week, and it's pretty hard, but I'm enjoying myself. I love my lab partner, and the hot marine MP looking to get his nursing degree is totally talking to us and making the other women jealous.
I'm not the oldest person in the class. I'm not even close. More than half the class is older than me. A lot of them already work for medical facilities. All of us want something else, something more.
I've applied to volunteer at a zoo, and I want to apply to volunteer with a rescue of some sort. I really need to start getting involved in my field. It's what I need.
I can't say how much I love school. It's fun. The labs make me geek out. We're using agar plates! We have bacterium that we inoculate slants with! It's so much fun! It's a lot of work, too, but it's fun work.
I keep trying to envision my life in ten years, me doing what I want, maybe working on a Master's or PhD. Maybe I finally will get married, or maybe I'll just go for that villa in Spain and take that spate of European lovers that I keep daydreaming about. Maybe I'll have ten cats by that point and be totally alone. Who knows? The future's wide open!
I do know that I'll be doing what I love. Maybe I'll finally move to the South and be closer to my family and my friend Kim (who I will be marrying as soon as the laws allow us to ;-P). It's going to be great. I can't wait 'til it happens, but I don't want to cut the journey short, either. I just hope I finish college before this blog has to change its name to College at Forty.
Showing posts with label me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label me. Show all posts
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Thursday, October 11, 2012
But is it ableism?
I've mentioned that I'm heavy on this blog more than once. I'm a healthy girl. I have DDD boobies and size 16 jeans. I'm pretty comfortable in my own skin for the most part, and I think I'm pretty.
Of course, lots of people tell you I'm not because I'm heavy.
I'm not going to act like I wouldn't like to be smaller. Not skinny or anything, just smaller and more fit. More solid, less flabby.
Now that I'm working nights, I feel like I mostly sit or sleep throughout the day. I walk at school, but I can't take walks during work any more because it's the middle of the night in the Downtown District (any district, really), and I can't do it.
Things I do do on my own, though, are yoga and jogging (on the treadmill), and I've signed up for the aerobic kick-punch class at the community center. It's a great class, and it's three days a week, though I can only attend two because of my schedule. I really like the class. The teacher is awesome and he seems to care about people. Not money or how big/small they are. He cares about you. If you have a fitness goal, he wants to help you achieve it. He does this job as a volunteer. I doubt he makes any money at all.
The part I don't like about the class are some of the people. Not all of them. Just some of them. There are two ladies there who have been going to this class since George Burns was a little boy, and they think they just know everything there is to know.
Obviously, I don't like them. I mean, I don't like much of anyone, but I really don't like them. They make class miserable for me, and they're a huge reason why I'm not sad to not be able to go Saturday mornings. If the instructor is talking to you, they get in the middle and start trying to separate you two because really, they're all he needs! No, really!
But they're neither here nor there. That up there is just venting. This down here is what I'm talking about.
So, when you're heavy and you decide on an exercise routine, you suddenly get people involved in what you're doing. My friend Susan is a stick figure, has a routine of her own, does one with me every now and then, no one ever bothers her. If I go to my mom's gym for an afternoon with her instead of using the one here at my apartment complex, I always get some jerk walking up to my treadmill to try and find out what it is I do. I get people who move to the treadmill exactly next to mine who try and keep up with my jogging, though they could just be rude because there are literally fifteen other treadmills that they could get on (no, really, there are), and these people all feel the need to comment on what I'm doing.
"Oh, I saw you running last week too! You're doing such a great job!"
Uh...thanks?
A blogger who is curvy like me (are we curvy now? Is that what they're calling us? I like it better than BBW, but is it curvy?) say that this sort of thing is ableism. I have issues with that because that sort of intimates that being fat is a disability, but I think in a way, she's right.
There was a Little Person in our class for a while. She was pretty cool. She just wanted to work out, do her own thing and go home. When we would leave, people would do the same thing to her.
"You're doing such a great job in there!" they would gush to her.
"Uh..thanks?" she'd say in return.
On Saturday mornings, if we were practicing our kicks one at a time, they'd all clap when she was done. I started clapping for everyone else because I felt for her, being the only one who got clapped for. Well, besides me. They clapped for me too.
She started going first to kick across the floor, and then she'd stand by me and we'd both clap for everyone.
I never knew her name. She's not there any more. I hope it's just that her schedule couldn't permit it anymore, and not that she's tired of being singled out by people who think they're doing good.
The fact that people think they're doing good is really the only thing that makes it bearable for me. They really honestly believe that their comments to me are just going to inspire me and make me say, "Yeah! I need to do more!" when in reality, I feel awkward and singled-out. They aren't saying it to anyone else.
It's like when you meet someone who's never been clinically depressed and they feel like telling you, "Oh, we all get sad sometimes." They don't know what it's like to be born to this body. They don't know what it's like to see pictures of themselves, looking freakishly large next to normal-sized humans. I always wonder if these people who feel the need to comment, to offer suggestions, ever have that happen to them? What do they think of it?
The next time someone says, "Wow, you were doing so well in there!" to me, I'm going to say, "Yeah, you too! Can you believe it?" and see what happens.
So, one last thought: a part of ableism is focusing on the disability (or percieved disability) rather than on the person. When people tell me how "good" I'm doing and admonish me to "keep it up!" I feel like they are attempting to conform me to their ideals of what I should be. They see my body as being fixable despite the fact that there is no scientific or medical evidence to support a fat person losing and keeping weight off for any satisfactory amount of time. I'm "fixing" myself by being there, despite the fact that losing weight is not my goal. In that sense, I can see how this might be ableism.
Of course, lots of people tell you I'm not because I'm heavy.
I'm not going to act like I wouldn't like to be smaller. Not skinny or anything, just smaller and more fit. More solid, less flabby.
Now that I'm working nights, I feel like I mostly sit or sleep throughout the day. I walk at school, but I can't take walks during work any more because it's the middle of the night in the Downtown District (any district, really), and I can't do it.
Things I do do on my own, though, are yoga and jogging (on the treadmill), and I've signed up for the aerobic kick-punch class at the community center. It's a great class, and it's three days a week, though I can only attend two because of my schedule. I really like the class. The teacher is awesome and he seems to care about people. Not money or how big/small they are. He cares about you. If you have a fitness goal, he wants to help you achieve it. He does this job as a volunteer. I doubt he makes any money at all.
The part I don't like about the class are some of the people. Not all of them. Just some of them. There are two ladies there who have been going to this class since George Burns was a little boy, and they think they just know everything there is to know.
Obviously, I don't like them. I mean, I don't like much of anyone, but I really don't like them. They make class miserable for me, and they're a huge reason why I'm not sad to not be able to go Saturday mornings. If the instructor is talking to you, they get in the middle and start trying to separate you two because really, they're all he needs! No, really!
But they're neither here nor there. That up there is just venting. This down here is what I'm talking about.
So, when you're heavy and you decide on an exercise routine, you suddenly get people involved in what you're doing. My friend Susan is a stick figure, has a routine of her own, does one with me every now and then, no one ever bothers her. If I go to my mom's gym for an afternoon with her instead of using the one here at my apartment complex, I always get some jerk walking up to my treadmill to try and find out what it is I do. I get people who move to the treadmill exactly next to mine who try and keep up with my jogging, though they could just be rude because there are literally fifteen other treadmills that they could get on (no, really, there are), and these people all feel the need to comment on what I'm doing.
"Oh, I saw you running last week too! You're doing such a great job!"
Uh...thanks?
A blogger who is curvy like me (are we curvy now? Is that what they're calling us? I like it better than BBW, but is it curvy?) say that this sort of thing is ableism. I have issues with that because that sort of intimates that being fat is a disability, but I think in a way, she's right.
There was a Little Person in our class for a while. She was pretty cool. She just wanted to work out, do her own thing and go home. When we would leave, people would do the same thing to her.
"You're doing such a great job in there!" they would gush to her.
"Uh..thanks?" she'd say in return.
On Saturday mornings, if we were practicing our kicks one at a time, they'd all clap when she was done. I started clapping for everyone else because I felt for her, being the only one who got clapped for. Well, besides me. They clapped for me too.
She started going first to kick across the floor, and then she'd stand by me and we'd both clap for everyone.
I never knew her name. She's not there any more. I hope it's just that her schedule couldn't permit it anymore, and not that she's tired of being singled out by people who think they're doing good.
The fact that people think they're doing good is really the only thing that makes it bearable for me. They really honestly believe that their comments to me are just going to inspire me and make me say, "Yeah! I need to do more!" when in reality, I feel awkward and singled-out. They aren't saying it to anyone else.
It's like when you meet someone who's never been clinically depressed and they feel like telling you, "Oh, we all get sad sometimes." They don't know what it's like to be born to this body. They don't know what it's like to see pictures of themselves, looking freakishly large next to normal-sized humans. I always wonder if these people who feel the need to comment, to offer suggestions, ever have that happen to them? What do they think of it?
The next time someone says, "Wow, you were doing so well in there!" to me, I'm going to say, "Yeah, you too! Can you believe it?" and see what happens.
So, one last thought: a part of ableism is focusing on the disability (or percieved disability) rather than on the person. When people tell me how "good" I'm doing and admonish me to "keep it up!" I feel like they are attempting to conform me to their ideals of what I should be. They see my body as being fixable despite the fact that there is no scientific or medical evidence to support a fat person losing and keeping weight off for any satisfactory amount of time. I'm "fixing" myself by being there, despite the fact that losing weight is not my goal. In that sense, I can see how this might be ableism.
 |
| This poster is on the wall at the Community Center. I like to think that Thor and his manly biceps are rooting me on. Also, I pretend his favorite song is "If I Had a Hammer." |
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Where the heck have I been?
Ahmagerd, I can't even tell you.
I've been adjusting to the Graveyard Shift and not having weekends (I get off during the week now), and I've been here, there and everywhere.
I feel like Mr. Rogers because I have so much to share!
First things first. I've been thinking about the retort "Ur jus jellus!" a lot because I think sometimes something happens and if you have a negative reaction to it, people think you're just jealous about it.
Case in point, I broke off a relationship at the beginning of the year and it was sort of sad and ugly, but I've been better since it happened. I wonder every now and then if my former friend thinks I was just jealous of her when in fact, I'm not. In fact, I really think our lives took different paths and we just could no longer be compatible at all.
It made me think of EL James and how I'm tearing apart her Magnum Opus: Ode to a Narcissist AKA Fifty Shades of Grey. I'm sure there are people out there that see that and think, "Oh, she's just jealous."
As with my dissolution of my friendship, my issues with EL James don't stem from a place of jealousy. I'm not jealous about her piss-poor writing, characterizations, or even the fact that she got published. These aren't goals that I have. My goals are to read good literature and to enjoy it. I didn't enjoy reading her, but I sure am enjoying tearing her work apart.
Speaking of both bad writing and EL James, I found out that a blogger called The Slactivist has torn apart the Left Behind series in the same way I'm going at Fifty Shades. Now, I'm not even going to pretend that a work of heresy such as Left Behind has anything in common with a work of heresy like...wait. Wait.
Left Behind is dangerous because it paints an unreal picture of what Christianity should be.
Fifty Shades is dangerous because it paints and unreal picture of what relationships should be.
Neither work is actually representative of any sort of reality other than an abusive one...
Both works are held up quite often as being important cultural phenomena that people are using to shape themselves and their decisions regarding the way they react to those around them...
Hmmm. I don't know, it's up to your interpretation.
Anyway, all that to say that I feel a grateful energy towards The Slactivist for going through these books (long ago, but never mind) so that I don't have to. I've wanted to read them just because I'm a Christian and I wanted to see what the hooplah was about, but then Kirk Cameron was in the movies and I said, "No way, Jose!" Jose said, "Dios mio!" (Just kidding. There's no Jose.) So, I'm not going to read the books, but I am loving the commentary on Left Behind and the sound orthodox Christianity behind The Slactivist's comments. I think with the election and the Republican Party being what they currently are, it's important to remember that there is a fringe sect of Christianity that is trying to make itself more mainstream and take over the nation. They are the people who read books like Left Behind, but never question the fact that they're trying to turn the country into a Christian Theocracy so that...what? The Antichrist can take over? I mean, what's the goal? There's no reason to do what they're doing. It's so very odd and weird, and I can't get their doctrines to mesh with each other.
Speaking of BDSM....
When I started with Fifty Shades, I made sure to say that I do not know much about the lifestyle, and that I did a little bit of research to understand what is considered an acceptable norm when it comes to BDSM. Now, I acknowledge that BDSM is not considered a cultural norm, though I do think it's more pervasive than some people realize, and that as human beings, we should be more open and honest about our sexuality and accept that there are things that we do that we like and that we shouldn't have to apologize about them. I think that if BDSM were considered more normative and if there were more knowledge about it, then this horrible book would never have been written.
So, to that end, I did publish in the early chapters of Fifty Shades of Grey some "norms" that I found according to my research, and that one of the norms was that people who are BDSM don't necessarily always mix sex with BDSM. I'm sure that this is not true with everyone. I'm sure that there are people out there that always combine the two. I'm also not saying that I think the two things are separate or different. I think, from my limited outside point of view, I see them as both means to the very same (or maybe similar?) end. Just because you don't engage in traditional PIV sex, that doesn't mean to me that you didn't have a sexual experience or a sexual release. And I do totally acknowledge that someone could want to have totally "typical" sex after a BDSM episode, or even during (which starts getting into grey areas anyway because PIV obviously doesn't fly with all GLBT partners) a BDSM episode, but I'm trying to debunk a really stupid and frankly dangerous book, not start a political debate.
So, I wanted to give you guys someone to turn to who is being open and honest about her sexuality and her experiences with BDSM. Clarisse Thorn blogs, and she wrote an excellent piece on BDSM Vs. Sex, and here is part II which I particularly enjoyed because I felt like I could really hear her "voice" for this one more than the first one.
I particularly liked this:
I'm not even going to touch on the fact that if Ana had used the safeword, Christian would still be a sociopath and Ana would still be stupid.
So...there you go. That's what I've been doing.
Oh, and I've been sending my friend little short stories and getting some back in return. It's been a lot of fun.
I've been adjusting to the Graveyard Shift and not having weekends (I get off during the week now), and I've been here, there and everywhere.
I feel like Mr. Rogers because I have so much to share!
First things first. I've been thinking about the retort "Ur jus jellus!" a lot because I think sometimes something happens and if you have a negative reaction to it, people think you're just jealous about it.
Case in point, I broke off a relationship at the beginning of the year and it was sort of sad and ugly, but I've been better since it happened. I wonder every now and then if my former friend thinks I was just jealous of her when in fact, I'm not. In fact, I really think our lives took different paths and we just could no longer be compatible at all.
It made me think of EL James and how I'm tearing apart her Magnum Opus: Ode to a Narcissist AKA Fifty Shades of Grey. I'm sure there are people out there that see that and think, "Oh, she's just jealous."
As with my dissolution of my friendship, my issues with EL James don't stem from a place of jealousy. I'm not jealous about her piss-poor writing, characterizations, or even the fact that she got published. These aren't goals that I have. My goals are to read good literature and to enjoy it. I didn't enjoy reading her, but I sure am enjoying tearing her work apart.
Speaking of both bad writing and EL James, I found out that a blogger called The Slactivist has torn apart the Left Behind series in the same way I'm going at Fifty Shades. Now, I'm not even going to pretend that a work of heresy such as Left Behind has anything in common with a work of heresy like...wait. Wait.
Left Behind is dangerous because it paints an unreal picture of what Christianity should be.
Fifty Shades is dangerous because it paints and unreal picture of what relationships should be.
Neither work is actually representative of any sort of reality other than an abusive one...
Both works are held up quite often as being important cultural phenomena that people are using to shape themselves and their decisions regarding the way they react to those around them...
Hmmm. I don't know, it's up to your interpretation.
Anyway, all that to say that I feel a grateful energy towards The Slactivist for going through these books (long ago, but never mind) so that I don't have to. I've wanted to read them just because I'm a Christian and I wanted to see what the hooplah was about, but then Kirk Cameron was in the movies and I said, "No way, Jose!" Jose said, "Dios mio!" (Just kidding. There's no Jose.) So, I'm not going to read the books, but I am loving the commentary on Left Behind and the sound orthodox Christianity behind The Slactivist's comments. I think with the election and the Republican Party being what they currently are, it's important to remember that there is a fringe sect of Christianity that is trying to make itself more mainstream and take over the nation. They are the people who read books like Left Behind, but never question the fact that they're trying to turn the country into a Christian Theocracy so that...what? The Antichrist can take over? I mean, what's the goal? There's no reason to do what they're doing. It's so very odd and weird, and I can't get their doctrines to mesh with each other.
Speaking of BDSM....
When I started with Fifty Shades, I made sure to say that I do not know much about the lifestyle, and that I did a little bit of research to understand what is considered an acceptable norm when it comes to BDSM. Now, I acknowledge that BDSM is not considered a cultural norm, though I do think it's more pervasive than some people realize, and that as human beings, we should be more open and honest about our sexuality and accept that there are things that we do that we like and that we shouldn't have to apologize about them. I think that if BDSM were considered more normative and if there were more knowledge about it, then this horrible book would never have been written.
So, to that end, I did publish in the early chapters of Fifty Shades of Grey some "norms" that I found according to my research, and that one of the norms was that people who are BDSM don't necessarily always mix sex with BDSM. I'm sure that this is not true with everyone. I'm sure that there are people out there that always combine the two. I'm also not saying that I think the two things are separate or different. I think, from my limited outside point of view, I see them as both means to the very same (or maybe similar?) end. Just because you don't engage in traditional PIV sex, that doesn't mean to me that you didn't have a sexual experience or a sexual release. And I do totally acknowledge that someone could want to have totally "typical" sex after a BDSM episode, or even during (which starts getting into grey areas anyway because PIV obviously doesn't fly with all GLBT partners) a BDSM episode, but I'm trying to debunk a really stupid and frankly dangerous book, not start a political debate.
So, I wanted to give you guys someone to turn to who is being open and honest about her sexuality and her experiences with BDSM. Clarisse Thorn blogs, and she wrote an excellent piece on BDSM Vs. Sex, and here is part II which I particularly enjoyed because I felt like I could really hear her "voice" for this one more than the first one.
I particularly liked this:
Although Part 1 was all about how the divide between “BDSM” and “sex” is often nonsensical, or purely political, or socially constructed … that doesn’t mean that the divide does not exist. I once had a conversation about ignoring social constructs with a wise friend, who noted dryly that: “One-way streets are a social construct. That doesn’t mean we should ignore them.” Just because the outside world influences our sexuality, does not mean that our sexual preferences are invalid.Her insights are great, and I did read other bloggers, but her voice was the one that really spoke to me. She goes into detail about times that she was and wasn't turned on, and she also talks a great deal about ending BDSM relationships, which as I understand (again, this is my understanding, from the outside), are way more intense than "typical" sexual relationships. And that makes sense to me. The thought of allowing someone to hurt you for mutual pleasure would take a great deal of trust to me. I couldn't imagine doing it myself, mostly because of the huge trust factor I would need. When I take this into account with Ana and Christian's relationship, I am always struck by how much neither of them really knows the other very well, or seems to trust the other very well. This is especially glaring to me in light of the most recent chapter post where Ana kicks herself for not using the "safe word" and Christian similarly is pissed off at her for not using it, but neither of them bring up how wrong Christian was to not look after Ana more carefully as he was punishing her.
I'm not even going to touch on the fact that if Ana had used the safeword, Christian would still be a sociopath and Ana would still be stupid.
So...there you go. That's what I've been doing.
Oh, and I've been sending my friend little short stories and getting some back in return. It's been a lot of fun.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
I got a new job...
What this means for you: A delay in my Fifty Shades Darker commentary. But I have begun it! And it's really awful. OMG is it awful.
What this means for me: I will be in a different department here at the law enforcement agency I work for, and I will be working the graveyard shift. This will be great for my college career as I will have more daylight time to devote to classes. I'll probably be able to write more for this blog, too, since I won't have to sneak in writing at work or wait until after work/weekends to write stuff up.
I'm really happy because I was at a place where I either needed to quit this job, or work something out regarding hours. A promotional opportunity came up (so more money!) that fit the hours I need, so it's great. I'll also be able to really throw myself into volunteering when I'm not working or at school. A lot of people tend to volunteer on weekends, so places that depend on volunteers tend to really suffer during the week. I'm glad that I'll be able to find someplace to help with that.
What this means for me: I will be in a different department here at the law enforcement agency I work for, and I will be working the graveyard shift. This will be great for my college career as I will have more daylight time to devote to classes. I'll probably be able to write more for this blog, too, since I won't have to sneak in writing at work or wait until after work/weekends to write stuff up.
I'm really happy because I was at a place where I either needed to quit this job, or work something out regarding hours. A promotional opportunity came up (so more money!) that fit the hours I need, so it's great. I'll also be able to really throw myself into volunteering when I'm not working or at school. A lot of people tend to volunteer on weekends, so places that depend on volunteers tend to really suffer during the week. I'm glad that I'll be able to find someplace to help with that.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
I'm done with the shame
I have decided to stop body-shaming myself. I've made a concerted effort to love my body, no matter what it looks like, to get out of yo-yo dieting (and dieting all together) and just be...me.
Unfortunately, there is still a rather large world out there that has been brought up on body shaming, and they still look at me and think, "there goes someone who could stand to lose fifty pound."
Kate Middleton was scrutinized for days after the royal wedding for being too thin, but if she had been even a pound heavier, she would have been called "Weighty Katie" instead of getting everyone's sympathy. This is just the way the world works. Heck, Alicia Silverstone was called "Fat Girl" in a tabloid when she started looking like a normal person rather than an anorexic Hollywood actress. And now recently, Ursula from The Little Mermaid has been slimmed down. Because she needed it.
So here's the thing: no diet works. Weight Watcher's criteria for what constitutes "successful" weight loss is so lax that all you have to do is lose five pounds and keep it off for a few months to be considered a success story by them. Even famous people like Rickie Lake and Carnie Wilson had great success after gastric bypass, but ended up gaining it all back. I was surprised when someone as thin as Gunnar Nelson decided to go on Biggest Loser to lose a few pounds, after already admitting to having liposuction, despite the fact that he was pretty much an ideal size. Heck, even Jared from Subway gained back quite a bit of weight.
When gastric bypass came out, it was the miracle cure-all, which is one of the reasons why I think Al Roker, Rickie Lake and Carnie Wilson gaining their weight back was so upsetting to everyone. Here are famous people who have chefs at their disposal! How is a normal person who will rarely have anything like a normal schedule supposed to do this if these guys can't? Not to mention, there are huge, life-threatening consequences to the surgery.
What's a person supposed to do? The media tells us that we're less than human if we're not stick-figures and we are surrounded by fatophobes and body shamers, and a lot of those people are heavy themselves! We can't win.
So, I just stopped. I took The Fat Nutritionist's advice and just stopped dieting. I also stopped caring. Then I started looking at myself in the mirror and trying to love what I see. I stopped seeing myself through society's eyes, and started looking at myself as whole. Yes, my breasts are DDD-large and not some size C-cup perkyness. But they're actually really pretty and well-shaped and not flat and floppy. I've started not worrying about what I'm eating and found that it's actually helped me to eat better. I don't feel like I "have" to eat a treat when it's there because I don't know when I'll have another one. I was in the south and I ordered pecan pie because that's what you do, and I only ate a few bites and saved the rest for later. It lasted me three days. In my dieting phase, I probably would have eaten it all and then felt horrible about myself afterwards.
I do yoga when I get home from work (with Mr. Checkhov, who's idea of yoga is rubbing around me while I'm in various poses, trying to see if I can both balance and pet him at the same time) and I jog on the treadmill when I feel like it. Since I've stopped looking at exercise as a means to be thin and started looking at it as something I enjoy doing, I want to do it more often and for longer. I want to be healthy, I want to be me. That means giving up the idealization of what the media and you and everyone else in the world thinks I should be.
Unfortunately, there is still a rather large world out there that has been brought up on body shaming, and they still look at me and think, "there goes someone who could stand to lose fifty pound."
Kate Middleton was scrutinized for days after the royal wedding for being too thin, but if she had been even a pound heavier, she would have been called "Weighty Katie" instead of getting everyone's sympathy. This is just the way the world works. Heck, Alicia Silverstone was called "Fat Girl" in a tabloid when she started looking like a normal person rather than an anorexic Hollywood actress. And now recently, Ursula from The Little Mermaid has been slimmed down. Because she needed it.
 |
| Poor unfortunate soul |
So here's the thing: no diet works. Weight Watcher's criteria for what constitutes "successful" weight loss is so lax that all you have to do is lose five pounds and keep it off for a few months to be considered a success story by them. Even famous people like Rickie Lake and Carnie Wilson had great success after gastric bypass, but ended up gaining it all back. I was surprised when someone as thin as Gunnar Nelson decided to go on Biggest Loser to lose a few pounds, after already admitting to having liposuction, despite the fact that he was pretty much an ideal size. Heck, even Jared from Subway gained back quite a bit of weight.
 |
| Gunnar is the one on the right. Like you'd really kick him out of bed for eating crackers. (Hi, Matthew. I still have that crush on you.) |
What's a person supposed to do? The media tells us that we're less than human if we're not stick-figures and we are surrounded by fatophobes and body shamers, and a lot of those people are heavy themselves! We can't win.
So, I just stopped. I took The Fat Nutritionist's advice and just stopped dieting. I also stopped caring. Then I started looking at myself in the mirror and trying to love what I see. I stopped seeing myself through society's eyes, and started looking at myself as whole. Yes, my breasts are DDD-large and not some size C-cup perkyness. But they're actually really pretty and well-shaped and not flat and floppy. I've started not worrying about what I'm eating and found that it's actually helped me to eat better. I don't feel like I "have" to eat a treat when it's there because I don't know when I'll have another one. I was in the south and I ordered pecan pie because that's what you do, and I only ate a few bites and saved the rest for later. It lasted me three days. In my dieting phase, I probably would have eaten it all and then felt horrible about myself afterwards.
I do yoga when I get home from work (with Mr. Checkhov, who's idea of yoga is rubbing around me while I'm in various poses, trying to see if I can both balance and pet him at the same time) and I jog on the treadmill when I feel like it. Since I've stopped looking at exercise as a means to be thin and started looking at it as something I enjoy doing, I want to do it more often and for longer. I want to be healthy, I want to be me. That means giving up the idealization of what the media and you and everyone else in the world thinks I should be.
Friday, July 13, 2012
The ADHD of our lives
I found out just before we left that Triple C was diagnosed with ADHD. I have no idea what her parents are doing about it, but it actually helped me out because she sort of scared me a few times with behaviour that just didn't jive with normal eight-year-old strangeness.
We went to Carrowinds amusement park which is a combination water-and-roller coaster park. It ended up being at that point a record breaking hot day, with, like, 110% humidity, so naturally by the time we were ready to leave, all of us were heat sick and dehydrated, despite our best efforts at buying tiny bottles of water for three bucks a pop every hour or so. Triple C put up a fight when her dad told her to drink water and would only take a few sips grudgingly while the rest of us were sucking that stuff down like it was liquid gold. Since my mom and Little Bit stayed in the cabana the entire time, they were actually the only ones who didn't get dehydrated, though they were both pretty heat sick when we left.
Triple C and I would go on a few water rides, and then I would want to go back to our cabana for some rest. Tripple C would argue with me and get really belligerent. It started to seem like she was getting more energy with every step we took instead of it wearing her out like the other kids around us.
Finally, my brother decided we were ready to go home, so I showered off and changed, and then my sister-in-law decided that she would ride The Intimidator with my brother because I guess he was giving her grief about how his sister would ride it but she wouldn't. I believe the word "chicken" was used. Anyway, Triple C decided that she wanted me to take her on a roller coaster while her parents went on theirs, so my brother said that we could.
By that time, I was actually water-logged and needed something with salt in it and I am actually still retaining water right now, though it's getting better now that I'm doing Yoga regularly again. But this is my niece. She is seriously the love of my life and I would do anything for her, so I said yes and we went to this ride. For whatever reason, Triple C started telling me that her daddy said we could ride the roller coaster as many times as we wanted. This was news to me so I said, "No, he didn't." She seriously started arguing with me. By that point, I was trying to figure out where she got the energy from. I mean, we had been at the park for six hours at that point, surely she had to slow down at some point?
I finally told her that I didn't care what her daddy said, I was going on the ride once and once only, and then we were walking back to the front of the park where Grandma and Little Bit were waiting for us. End of story. I felt like I was being mean, but there's only so much abuse a body can take and I needed to get out of the park and suck on a lemon with some salt for a few minutes. I get heat sick regularly, so I know the signs and how to handle getting water logged. I mean, I was starting to get chills, which is a hugely bad sign, so I knew I was probably only good to get to the car before I passed out. Unfortunately, Triple C had other plans.
"Aunt Heidi, I'm so sick!" she suddenly wailed while we were walking under the blessed shade of a roller coaster track combined with trees. "I just want to sit down in air conditioning!"
What could I do? If I sat down, I knew I could not get back up. I stood her on a park bench and took her on my back, walking towards the entrance until I saw a store. I figured the store would be air conditioned because the heat was just so oppressive. I was so wrong. This place was not air conditioned at all. There was, however, a fan by the door that was blowing moderately cool air, so I took Triple C there and stood. The minute I put her back on the ground, she left the coolness of the fan and started looking at the stuffed toys. I...I sort of freaked out. I mean, why was she acting this way? How could she possibly want the toys when there was a fan there? What happened to the kid who had just broken down and started crying not five minutes ago?
I got myself nominally better (I still had chills, but I had started sweating again which was a relief since I had stopped at some point) and escorted Triple C to the front of the park where my sister-in-law was throwing up more from heat exhaustion than The Intimidator, though it was probably a close call. My brother asked me if I was going to throw up, and I said that I honestly didn't know, but I needed to sit down in the car with the AC blasting. He poured water over my head, and I felt better for as long as it took me to get to the car and get the AC blasting. Triple C on her part, was suddenly refreshed and new again and begging to go on another ride. We all just stared at her like she was crazy, and my sister-in-law finally took her hand and said she could go on a ride in the car.
We had taken separate cars, so I didn't find out until later that she got sick on the ride home and that all of us stopped for drinks on the way. I alternated drinking tea with lemon, and Dr. Pepper. I figured the Dr. Pepper had sugar that could help my body heal, and tea is a natural diuretic while lemon has electrolytes in it. The big thing right now is coconut water, because it has all of that in it, but so does Gatorade. We didn't think to bring either of those things with us.
Anyway, the end here is that when I found out that Triple C is ADHD, it all made sense. The boundless energy, the distraction, the belligerance, the crashing the minute we had no stimulation around us. I know there are people who think ADHD doesn't exist, or that it's code for "My kid is a brat and I don't want to discipline him," but it's real. I saw it. I was scared by it. Triple C's mind is betraying her, and it can make her sick. I know how that feels, and I'm so glad that my brother and his wife will do everything they can for her.
We went to Carrowinds amusement park which is a combination water-and-roller coaster park. It ended up being at that point a record breaking hot day, with, like, 110% humidity, so naturally by the time we were ready to leave, all of us were heat sick and dehydrated, despite our best efforts at buying tiny bottles of water for three bucks a pop every hour or so. Triple C put up a fight when her dad told her to drink water and would only take a few sips grudgingly while the rest of us were sucking that stuff down like it was liquid gold. Since my mom and Little Bit stayed in the cabana the entire time, they were actually the only ones who didn't get dehydrated, though they were both pretty heat sick when we left.
Triple C and I would go on a few water rides, and then I would want to go back to our cabana for some rest. Tripple C would argue with me and get really belligerent. It started to seem like she was getting more energy with every step we took instead of it wearing her out like the other kids around us.
Finally, my brother decided we were ready to go home, so I showered off and changed, and then my sister-in-law decided that she would ride The Intimidator with my brother because I guess he was giving her grief about how his sister would ride it but she wouldn't. I believe the word "chicken" was used. Anyway, Triple C decided that she wanted me to take her on a roller coaster while her parents went on theirs, so my brother said that we could.
By that time, I was actually water-logged and needed something with salt in it and I am actually still retaining water right now, though it's getting better now that I'm doing Yoga regularly again. But this is my niece. She is seriously the love of my life and I would do anything for her, so I said yes and we went to this ride. For whatever reason, Triple C started telling me that her daddy said we could ride the roller coaster as many times as we wanted. This was news to me so I said, "No, he didn't." She seriously started arguing with me. By that point, I was trying to figure out where she got the energy from. I mean, we had been at the park for six hours at that point, surely she had to slow down at some point?
I finally told her that I didn't care what her daddy said, I was going on the ride once and once only, and then we were walking back to the front of the park where Grandma and Little Bit were waiting for us. End of story. I felt like I was being mean, but there's only so much abuse a body can take and I needed to get out of the park and suck on a lemon with some salt for a few minutes. I get heat sick regularly, so I know the signs and how to handle getting water logged. I mean, I was starting to get chills, which is a hugely bad sign, so I knew I was probably only good to get to the car before I passed out. Unfortunately, Triple C had other plans.
"Aunt Heidi, I'm so sick!" she suddenly wailed while we were walking under the blessed shade of a roller coaster track combined with trees. "I just want to sit down in air conditioning!"
What could I do? If I sat down, I knew I could not get back up. I stood her on a park bench and took her on my back, walking towards the entrance until I saw a store. I figured the store would be air conditioned because the heat was just so oppressive. I was so wrong. This place was not air conditioned at all. There was, however, a fan by the door that was blowing moderately cool air, so I took Triple C there and stood. The minute I put her back on the ground, she left the coolness of the fan and started looking at the stuffed toys. I...I sort of freaked out. I mean, why was she acting this way? How could she possibly want the toys when there was a fan there? What happened to the kid who had just broken down and started crying not five minutes ago?
I got myself nominally better (I still had chills, but I had started sweating again which was a relief since I had stopped at some point) and escorted Triple C to the front of the park where my sister-in-law was throwing up more from heat exhaustion than The Intimidator, though it was probably a close call. My brother asked me if I was going to throw up, and I said that I honestly didn't know, but I needed to sit down in the car with the AC blasting. He poured water over my head, and I felt better for as long as it took me to get to the car and get the AC blasting. Triple C on her part, was suddenly refreshed and new again and begging to go on another ride. We all just stared at her like she was crazy, and my sister-in-law finally took her hand and said she could go on a ride in the car.
We had taken separate cars, so I didn't find out until later that she got sick on the ride home and that all of us stopped for drinks on the way. I alternated drinking tea with lemon, and Dr. Pepper. I figured the Dr. Pepper had sugar that could help my body heal, and tea is a natural diuretic while lemon has electrolytes in it. The big thing right now is coconut water, because it has all of that in it, but so does Gatorade. We didn't think to bring either of those things with us.
Anyway, the end here is that when I found out that Triple C is ADHD, it all made sense. The boundless energy, the distraction, the belligerance, the crashing the minute we had no stimulation around us. I know there are people who think ADHD doesn't exist, or that it's code for "My kid is a brat and I don't want to discipline him," but it's real. I saw it. I was scared by it. Triple C's mind is betraying her, and it can make her sick. I know how that feels, and I'm so glad that my brother and his wife will do everything they can for her.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
I'm back! Too bad about my luggage...
First of all, I really did touch down in the land of the Delta Blues in the middle of the pouring rain.
I touched down an hour and a half after I was supposed to because there was a lightning storm in Charlotte that started the minute the cabin doors closed.
I had a layover in Memphis of one hour and five minutes.
That I made the plane to LA at all was a miracle. I guess I shouldn't have expected my luggage to be there as well. I did, though. I really did. It wasn't. My laptop is in my suitcase because I didn't want to carry it around. Stupid me.
Anyway, in answer to my last post, no one upgraded me to first class. Boo. I wish.
I miss my little nieces and even my brother...I can't say I miss the humidity, though. Of course, after the lightning and rain, it might have gotten nicer in Charlotte. I refuse to look at a weather map just in case it's a balmy 75 with only 50% humidity or something in the south. Of course, now I'm in sunny Orange County, so I can't complain.
Anyway, it's always better to be home than anywhere else in the world. Except Scotland.
Oooh, ooh! ETA: Guess what I did while I was gone? I caught up with the Kartrashians! Scott is still a douche, Kourtney is still annoying, Khloe is still awesome, and Kim is still a wax figurine. My life is complete!
I touched down an hour and a half after I was supposed to because there was a lightning storm in Charlotte that started the minute the cabin doors closed.
I had a layover in Memphis of one hour and five minutes.
That I made the plane to LA at all was a miracle. I guess I shouldn't have expected my luggage to be there as well. I did, though. I really did. It wasn't. My laptop is in my suitcase because I didn't want to carry it around. Stupid me.
Anyway, in answer to my last post, no one upgraded me to first class. Boo. I wish.
I miss my little nieces and even my brother...I can't say I miss the humidity, though. Of course, after the lightning and rain, it might have gotten nicer in Charlotte. I refuse to look at a weather map just in case it's a balmy 75 with only 50% humidity or something in the south. Of course, now I'm in sunny Orange County, so I can't complain.
Anyway, it's always better to be home than anywhere else in the world. Except Scotland.
Oooh, ooh! ETA: Guess what I did while I was gone? I caught up with the Kartrashians! Scott is still a douche, Kourtney is still annoying, Khloe is still awesome, and Kim is still a wax figurine. My life is complete!
Monday, July 2, 2012
My bags are packed, I'm ready to go...
I hate leaving my cat behind. Back when I had guinea pigs, I hated leaving them behind, too. Pets are capable of only so much reasoning, so when their masters leave and don't come back when they're supposed to, it adds stress to the pet. What makes it worse with Chekhov was that he was abandoned outside of a school in a cat carrier, and then he was schlepped around first to a kill shelter where he was then rescued by a no-kill shelter, and eventually was placed in a foster home. When I got to him, who knows how many homes he had lived in?
His first reaction to our house was casual indifference. He found a place he liked, under my mom's bed, and only came out at night when we were asleep. It took him about three weeks before he started hanging out in our vicinity. He liked the cat tree I got him (seven feet, three platforms, and a "jeffrey's tube" down by the bottom) and would climb and sharpen his claws, but if he wasn't in the tree, he just wasn't in the living room.
Finally, one night, he jumped on my bed and slept on top of me. I think it was because he was cold, but then he did it the next night. And the next night. He started hanging out in my room, but then, that's where the food and litter box was. I had to take him to the vet for a booster shot, and I watched him deflate. All the time I spent with him came apart in the office. We were home for about two hours before he finally realized that we were still together and that I hadn't left him behind. That night, he slept next to me and held my arm in both his paws. I don't know how long he stayed that way, but he was still on the bed in the morning.
In December, I visited my family for a week. I was excited to go since I had only seen pictures of the baby until that point. I hated leaving Chekhov, though. I packed and got everything ready to go. I explained to the pet sitter that he was sort of shy of men, and the pet sitter said he understood and would try to be quiet and not make quick moves. I still worried. Chekhov stood by the door when I left. I leaned down and put my hand under his chin. He looked up at me with his huge green eyes and I said, "I will be back. I will be back." I have no doubt that I project feelings and emotions onto him, but my goodness cats can look pathetic when they feel like it.
When I got home, he was happy to see me. He rubbed around my legs and gave me his little burrr-purr. Then that night, he came and laid down beside me. I petted him and he put his paw on my hand. And then, very quickly, he shoved his sharp claws into the back of my hand and before I could yell or do anything, he withdrew them and gave my hand a lick. I probably should have gotten mad at him. But I couldn't because I couldn't imagine how he felt while I was gone, and if that was the worst he was going to do (my old cat would ignore me for a whole day before she would even deign to speak to me or let me pet her), we would be okay.
His first reaction to our house was casual indifference. He found a place he liked, under my mom's bed, and only came out at night when we were asleep. It took him about three weeks before he started hanging out in our vicinity. He liked the cat tree I got him (seven feet, three platforms, and a "jeffrey's tube" down by the bottom) and would climb and sharpen his claws, but if he wasn't in the tree, he just wasn't in the living room.
Finally, one night, he jumped on my bed and slept on top of me. I think it was because he was cold, but then he did it the next night. And the next night. He started hanging out in my room, but then, that's where the food and litter box was. I had to take him to the vet for a booster shot, and I watched him deflate. All the time I spent with him came apart in the office. We were home for about two hours before he finally realized that we were still together and that I hadn't left him behind. That night, he slept next to me and held my arm in both his paws. I don't know how long he stayed that way, but he was still on the bed in the morning.
In December, I visited my family for a week. I was excited to go since I had only seen pictures of the baby until that point. I hated leaving Chekhov, though. I packed and got everything ready to go. I explained to the pet sitter that he was sort of shy of men, and the pet sitter said he understood and would try to be quiet and not make quick moves. I still worried. Chekhov stood by the door when I left. I leaned down and put my hand under his chin. He looked up at me with his huge green eyes and I said, "I will be back. I will be back." I have no doubt that I project feelings and emotions onto him, but my goodness cats can look pathetic when they feel like it.
When I got home, he was happy to see me. He rubbed around my legs and gave me his little burrr-purr. Then that night, he came and laid down beside me. I petted him and he put his paw on my hand. And then, very quickly, he shoved his sharp claws into the back of my hand and before I could yell or do anything, he withdrew them and gave my hand a lick. I probably should have gotten mad at him. But I couldn't because I couldn't imagine how he felt while I was gone, and if that was the worst he was going to do (my old cat would ignore me for a whole day before she would even deign to speak to me or let me pet her), we would be okay.
People think cats are really independent and aloof, but they aren't. They're just not in your face like dogs are. They're quieter about their affection.
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| Ai howldz ur hand nao, k? |
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Getting ready for a vacation, or, Look how long I can procrastinate!
Monday night, I will drive to LA, leave my car at a car park run by persons of dubious criminal backgrounds, and board a flight (piloted by persons of dubious criminal backgrounds) to North Carolina, where my family and my friend Kim live. I have known about this vacation for about a month already. So far, I have:
Bought and wrapped a gift for each of my nieces
Managed to make a huge mess on the kitchen table
Not vacuumed the floor
Hired a pet-sitter (hey, there's one good thing!)
Not cleaned the bird cage
Not cut the cat's claws
Not groomed the cat
Not cleaned out the refrigerator
Not dusted at all
Not sat down to compile a list of things to pack (hint: underwear)
Whenever I pack, I always do it at the last minute. I'm usually up the night before I leave, cleaning, scrubbing, putting shampoo into little tiny bottles, and writing out a permission letter for the pet sitter should anything happen with the pets while I'm gone. Just once, I'd like to do things a little less frantically. But...I have to be honest...I don't think that's my thing. When I plan ahead, I always forget something, but when I do my frantic dash through the medicine cabinet, I always make sure I grab all the right stuff.
Does this come from my being visual? I think it could. I think that maybe when I'm looking through my closet and drawers, I get a better idea for how to put outfits together using only two pairs of pants and three shirts. (the variety comes from tanktops and undershirts that you layer. Really.) I think that when I'm looking at the medicine cabinet, I see all the stuff I use on a daily basis much better than when I'm writing out a list from memory.
Anyway, regardless, all of that stuff up there needs to get done, and it probably won't get done until sometime Sunday night or early Monday morning.
Kim, get ready, 'cause here I come!
Bought and wrapped a gift for each of my nieces
Managed to make a huge mess on the kitchen table
Not vacuumed the floor
Hired a pet-sitter (hey, there's one good thing!)
Not cleaned the bird cage
Not cut the cat's claws
Not groomed the cat
Not cleaned out the refrigerator
Not dusted at all
Not sat down to compile a list of things to pack (hint: underwear)
Whenever I pack, I always do it at the last minute. I'm usually up the night before I leave, cleaning, scrubbing, putting shampoo into little tiny bottles, and writing out a permission letter for the pet sitter should anything happen with the pets while I'm gone. Just once, I'd like to do things a little less frantically. But...I have to be honest...I don't think that's my thing. When I plan ahead, I always forget something, but when I do my frantic dash through the medicine cabinet, I always make sure I grab all the right stuff.
Does this come from my being visual? I think it could. I think that maybe when I'm looking through my closet and drawers, I get a better idea for how to put outfits together using only two pairs of pants and three shirts. (the variety comes from tanktops and undershirts that you layer. Really.) I think that when I'm looking at the medicine cabinet, I see all the stuff I use on a daily basis much better than when I'm writing out a list from memory.
Anyway, regardless, all of that stuff up there needs to get done, and it probably won't get done until sometime Sunday night or early Monday morning.
Kim, get ready, 'cause here I come!
Friday, June 22, 2012
The coworker issue
I was actually going to post about something else today, but something just happened and I need to write about this because it's bothering me.
Okay, so I have this coworker. CW#7. He's an okay guy. I would dare to say that I don't mind his company. But he has some odd behaviors, like he's one of those people who will tell a story where he did something and then everyone clapped for him. He also exaggerates stuff that happens in the office to create even more drama when there is enough drama, trust.
He started with me really oddly. He would come to my cube, where I have two counters that are about the right height to lean your elbows against and talk to someone. He would come here, lean against my counter, and take a packet out of his pocket. From that packet he would produce a tiny little pill. He would bring it to my attention. "Look at how small this thing is." So, thinking he wanted to talk about it, I said, "Oh? What's it for?" And then he would hedge. "Oh...it's just something I need."
I am not someone who is dying for information about other people, so I started ignoring him, and he eventually stopped taking his pill at my desk. Apparently, though, my silence got to him so he finally told me it was for blood pressure. Big whoop.
He will also come to my counter and prop himself up and then just stare at me. When I finally say, "Yes?" he'll say, "Oh yeah?" back. I've started just igorning him, and he'll go, "Fine!" and then slap my counter and leave. He does this several times a day.
About two or three weeks ago, he told me that a position would be opening in the Emergency Operations Unit of the public agency I work for. I said, "Oh? That sounds interesting." He asked me if I would apply for it and I confirmed that when it opened, I would submit an application. (HoweverI believe I'm on the list for that position and will probably be asked if I want an interview.) Last Friday, he called me into his office. He does this a lot. He'll call, "Hey, Heidi!" from his desk and expect me to walk to his office. I usually say, "Yes?" and he'll say, "I need to ask you a question, so I say, "Okay." and ignore him because I know he wants me to stop working, get up, walk to his office, and then either look at something really stupid and inconsequential or ask me a question that isn't a huge privacy killer that he totally could have asked from my desk. Anyway, one of my other coworkers was in his office and said, "Can you come here?" so I went. CW#7 asked me again if I would go for this position.
"Oh, is it open? I'll go apply," I said and I turned to leave.
"No, Heidi, come here," he said. I turned around. "It's not open yet, but are you going to apply when it does?"
"I might as well," I answered. "I mean, why not?"
"Well, if you want the job, I'll put in a good word with you to [Manager]."
I said, "Oh, okay, that's nice of you." and turned to leave again.
"Heidi," he said, and I had to turn back. "But do you want the job?"
I don't know if I want the job, but I may as well apply for it. Right? I mean, what could it hurt? So I said, "I will apply for it. If you want to tell [Manager] about me and put in a good word, that would be nice."
"But do you want the job?" he asked again. Okay, what's his thing?
"Yes, I will apply for the job," I said and left.
Later that day, he asked if I would go for a walk around the block with him, so I got my walking shoes on and went with him. He broached the subject of the job yet again.
"So, are you going to apply for that job at Loma Ridge?" he asked for the hundredth time.
"Um...yes. I've already told you that I would when it opens."
He then started telling me that I would not have a flexible schedule there and that it was a really long drive and a few other bad things about the job. He didn't mention the scorpions and snakes that other people who work at Loma Ridge have to deal with, but maybe he doesn't care about that. I dont' know. I do. Anyway. I just really hate it when people pull crap like that, and then he kept on about putting in a good word for me.
"I'll totally talk to [Manager] about you if you want me to."
"Yes," I said, feeling really frustrated and surly, and trust me, that's not a hard thing to do, but in this case I really do think I was past the limit that most people would have cracked at. "If you want to put in a good word with [Manager] for me, it would be very nice of you."
I went home and told my mom about the conversation and how it, combined with the other stuff, was making me feel "fifty shades" of creepy (see what I did there?). My mom was totally on my side as all moms should be and even thought maybe he was expecting favors in return from me.
Honestly, I don't think that's what he's after. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to have clandestine romances with coworkers, and he certainly should know that I'm not the kind of girl who has romances with married men. I do think he wanted me to jump up and down and make a big deal about him offering me the job and putting in a good word, like he was giving me a huge gift or something.
So, anyway, this week started out really badly. There were some issues with some things and I was getting really upset with my coworkers who talk all day and with myself for making a mistake, and I just wasn't in the mood to deal with this guy. I finally confided in Coworker #5 on tueday, who is a nice person and business savvy although she can be a bit sanctimonious at times (I'll have an example of that in a minute). She nodded and told me he pulls the same crap with her, but that like me, she's just started ignoring him. She said she gets uncomfortable with people when they watch her work, but if she asks him if he wants something, he just says, "no," and goes back to staring.
It's important to note that he does not do this stuff with Coworker #6, who is a guy. He does other stuff to him.
On Wednesday, CW#5 said, "You know, Heidi, I think CW#7 is just insecure."
"I know he's insecure, but I don't care, I just want him to stop this behavior," I said back.
"Yeah, but insecurity is a really big thing. Like, I know I earned my job, but I think he feels he didn't earn his, you know?" (See what I mean? She literally said that.)
"Um...I don't think it's necessarily a work-related issue, his insecurity," I answered. "I think he just is insecure and he thinks that if he doesn't talk to us every five minutes, then we aren't going to like him any more or something." I mean, honestly, it's not my job to make everyone in the world feel good about themselves.
Anyway, she said that since she's in the office a few hours before me, and so is CW#7, that he goes to her when I'm not there, but after I show up, he leaves her alone, and she said she just wanted me to know that it really is apparently me he wants and he uses her as a crutch when I'm not available. This is even weirder. And even creepier. And I'm even more ready now to get out of this office.
Yesterday, CW#6 (the dude) asked me if I wanted to go out for Pho today. I said, "Yeah, that sounds really good! Should we ask CW#5 to join us?" CW#7 was not supposed to be in today. CW#6 said we should ask her, and we all three said it sounded great.
Today, it was just the three of us and we were discussing how Pho just sounds really good today.
And then about an hour and a half ago, CW#7 walked in. Immediately after he came in, I went for a walk with the other two. #7 couldn't come because he had just walked in. #5 said, "Well, I was having a really good day, and then something happened to make it bad. But, I'm going to stay positive and say that this is still a good day." I thought she had read the e-mail I sent to her when he walked in that said, "WTF?? I was totally looking forward to a quiet day today!" No, she didn't see it until she got back and we had a quiet laugh about it. "I thought so too," she said to me.
Okay, maybe you see where I'm going with this. But come on, this is crazy! Why is he here today? Is it really because we were planning on going out to lunch together without him? Is he here because of me, or is it some other huge thing that I only factor in in a small way? I'm just really feeling confused, and my desire to leave this job is getting stronger.
Anyway, I don't know what to do. I just don't.
*******update*****
Okay, we went to lunch. CW#7 was all up in my grill. He kept just making inane jokes, like if you say "We're going for Pho", he'll come back with, "You're going to flow? Where?" like that. No, it's not funny. But he does that shit all the time.
Anyway, CW#5 is Peruvian and loves futbol, so when she saw that the restaurant had the futbol game (Germany against Greece) playing on the TV, she decided to sit at this ginormous table by the TV. There were tons of seats. CW#7 decided he absolutely had to sit next to me. He kept commenting that I just didn't think he was funny today or something, and...no. I don't. I don't think that taking something someone says and turning it into something else not even remotely funny is funny at all. Anyway, #5 is like, "You need to just go with it." and I was like, "FU." So I started swearing in German at the TV everytime the guys missed the goal and talking smack about the Greek team. (Oh, they're greasy? Huh! Did you say those players were greasy? Or did you say they greased the field?--CW#7)
So, anyway. I think...I think this guy is okay in small doses. But he's been overdosing me lately, and I'm just not in the mood. I just want to get my work done. That's all.
Okay, so I have this coworker. CW#7. He's an okay guy. I would dare to say that I don't mind his company. But he has some odd behaviors, like he's one of those people who will tell a story where he did something and then everyone clapped for him. He also exaggerates stuff that happens in the office to create even more drama when there is enough drama, trust.
He started with me really oddly. He would come to my cube, where I have two counters that are about the right height to lean your elbows against and talk to someone. He would come here, lean against my counter, and take a packet out of his pocket. From that packet he would produce a tiny little pill. He would bring it to my attention. "Look at how small this thing is." So, thinking he wanted to talk about it, I said, "Oh? What's it for?" And then he would hedge. "Oh...it's just something I need."
I am not someone who is dying for information about other people, so I started ignoring him, and he eventually stopped taking his pill at my desk. Apparently, though, my silence got to him so he finally told me it was for blood pressure. Big whoop.
He will also come to my counter and prop himself up and then just stare at me. When I finally say, "Yes?" he'll say, "Oh yeah?" back. I've started just igorning him, and he'll go, "Fine!" and then slap my counter and leave. He does this several times a day.
About two or three weeks ago, he told me that a position would be opening in the Emergency Operations Unit of the public agency I work for. I said, "Oh? That sounds interesting." He asked me if I would apply for it and I confirmed that when it opened, I would submit an application. (HoweverI believe I'm on the list for that position and will probably be asked if I want an interview.) Last Friday, he called me into his office. He does this a lot. He'll call, "Hey, Heidi!" from his desk and expect me to walk to his office. I usually say, "Yes?" and he'll say, "I need to ask you a question, so I say, "Okay." and ignore him because I know he wants me to stop working, get up, walk to his office, and then either look at something really stupid and inconsequential or ask me a question that isn't a huge privacy killer that he totally could have asked from my desk. Anyway, one of my other coworkers was in his office and said, "Can you come here?" so I went. CW#7 asked me again if I would go for this position.
"Oh, is it open? I'll go apply," I said and I turned to leave.
"No, Heidi, come here," he said. I turned around. "It's not open yet, but are you going to apply when it does?"
"I might as well," I answered. "I mean, why not?"
"Well, if you want the job, I'll put in a good word with you to [Manager]."
I said, "Oh, okay, that's nice of you." and turned to leave again.
"Heidi," he said, and I had to turn back. "But do you want the job?"
I don't know if I want the job, but I may as well apply for it. Right? I mean, what could it hurt? So I said, "I will apply for it. If you want to tell [Manager] about me and put in a good word, that would be nice."
"But do you want the job?" he asked again. Okay, what's his thing?
"Yes, I will apply for the job," I said and left.
Later that day, he asked if I would go for a walk around the block with him, so I got my walking shoes on and went with him. He broached the subject of the job yet again.
"So, are you going to apply for that job at Loma Ridge?" he asked for the hundredth time.
"Um...yes. I've already told you that I would when it opens."
He then started telling me that I would not have a flexible schedule there and that it was a really long drive and a few other bad things about the job. He didn't mention the scorpions and snakes that other people who work at Loma Ridge have to deal with, but maybe he doesn't care about that. I dont' know. I do. Anyway. I just really hate it when people pull crap like that, and then he kept on about putting in a good word for me.
"I'll totally talk to [Manager] about you if you want me to."
"Yes," I said, feeling really frustrated and surly, and trust me, that's not a hard thing to do, but in this case I really do think I was past the limit that most people would have cracked at. "If you want to put in a good word with [Manager] for me, it would be very nice of you."
I went home and told my mom about the conversation and how it, combined with the other stuff, was making me feel "fifty shades" of creepy (see what I did there?). My mom was totally on my side as all moms should be and even thought maybe he was expecting favors in return from me.
Honestly, I don't think that's what he's after. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to have clandestine romances with coworkers, and he certainly should know that I'm not the kind of girl who has romances with married men. I do think he wanted me to jump up and down and make a big deal about him offering me the job and putting in a good word, like he was giving me a huge gift or something.
So, anyway, this week started out really badly. There were some issues with some things and I was getting really upset with my coworkers who talk all day and with myself for making a mistake, and I just wasn't in the mood to deal with this guy. I finally confided in Coworker #5 on tueday, who is a nice person and business savvy although she can be a bit sanctimonious at times (I'll have an example of that in a minute). She nodded and told me he pulls the same crap with her, but that like me, she's just started ignoring him. She said she gets uncomfortable with people when they watch her work, but if she asks him if he wants something, he just says, "no," and goes back to staring.
It's important to note that he does not do this stuff with Coworker #6, who is a guy. He does other stuff to him.
On Wednesday, CW#5 said, "You know, Heidi, I think CW#7 is just insecure."
"I know he's insecure, but I don't care, I just want him to stop this behavior," I said back.
"Yeah, but insecurity is a really big thing. Like, I know I earned my job, but I think he feels he didn't earn his, you know?" (See what I mean? She literally said that.)
"Um...I don't think it's necessarily a work-related issue, his insecurity," I answered. "I think he just is insecure and he thinks that if he doesn't talk to us every five minutes, then we aren't going to like him any more or something." I mean, honestly, it's not my job to make everyone in the world feel good about themselves.
Anyway, she said that since she's in the office a few hours before me, and so is CW#7, that he goes to her when I'm not there, but after I show up, he leaves her alone, and she said she just wanted me to know that it really is apparently me he wants and he uses her as a crutch when I'm not available. This is even weirder. And even creepier. And I'm even more ready now to get out of this office.
Yesterday, CW#6 (the dude) asked me if I wanted to go out for Pho today. I said, "Yeah, that sounds really good! Should we ask CW#5 to join us?" CW#7 was not supposed to be in today. CW#6 said we should ask her, and we all three said it sounded great.
Today, it was just the three of us and we were discussing how Pho just sounds really good today.
And then about an hour and a half ago, CW#7 walked in. Immediately after he came in, I went for a walk with the other two. #7 couldn't come because he had just walked in. #5 said, "Well, I was having a really good day, and then something happened to make it bad. But, I'm going to stay positive and say that this is still a good day." I thought she had read the e-mail I sent to her when he walked in that said, "WTF?? I was totally looking forward to a quiet day today!" No, she didn't see it until she got back and we had a quiet laugh about it. "I thought so too," she said to me.
Okay, maybe you see where I'm going with this. But come on, this is crazy! Why is he here today? Is it really because we were planning on going out to lunch together without him? Is he here because of me, or is it some other huge thing that I only factor in in a small way? I'm just really feeling confused, and my desire to leave this job is getting stronger.
Anyway, I don't know what to do. I just don't.
*******update*****
Okay, we went to lunch. CW#7 was all up in my grill. He kept just making inane jokes, like if you say "We're going for Pho", he'll come back with, "You're going to flow? Where?" like that. No, it's not funny. But he does that shit all the time.
Anyway, CW#5 is Peruvian and loves futbol, so when she saw that the restaurant had the futbol game (Germany against Greece) playing on the TV, she decided to sit at this ginormous table by the TV. There were tons of seats. CW#7 decided he absolutely had to sit next to me. He kept commenting that I just didn't think he was funny today or something, and...no. I don't. I don't think that taking something someone says and turning it into something else not even remotely funny is funny at all. Anyway, #5 is like, "You need to just go with it." and I was like, "FU." So I started swearing in German at the TV everytime the guys missed the goal and talking smack about the Greek team. (Oh, they're greasy? Huh! Did you say those players were greasy? Or did you say they greased the field?--CW#7)
So, anyway. I think...I think this guy is okay in small doses. But he's been overdosing me lately, and I'm just not in the mood. I just want to get my work done. That's all.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
My book reviews
I read a lot, and I usually like to talk about what I read, so I've started posting about it here online. My reviews are not by a professional critic, but by me, a lover of books. I don't like some books. I love other books. I'm on the fence about some. Some are great books, but aren't my cup of tea.
Why do I bring this up? Because over at OTF_Wank, there have been several author meltdowns at people who, like me, leave reviews depicting books that they're either so-so about, or just didn't enjoy. One author got all over a reviewer (a person who's blog is even solely dedicated to reviews) for pointing out horrible writing, syntax, grammar, punctuation, and spelling. Despite samples being passed around and other commenters pointing out what was wrong with the writing, the author maintained that she was absolutely correct in everything and the reviewer was just being mean. Another reviewer had on their blog that they will read up to fifteen mistakes before putting the book down, and she barely got in ten pages before she put the book down. Honestly, these are reasons why I would not read a book. I am glad that these reviewers point this out so that I don't waste time or money buying the books and being disappointed. I go by what other authors recommend, and I enjoy reading reviews, even after I have read the book.
For me, talking about a book after I read it is a way to continue to connect with it. I would feel bad if an author felt sad that I didn't like their book, but I would hope that since they are an author, they know that not everyone is going to like what they have to say. I would also hope that they would know better than to come to someone's blog and start attacking the blogger for being honest about a book.
I want to tell authors that people want to like their books. We're readers, those of us who review, and we enjoy reading. We enjoy the worlds authors can create. But we also get upset when a world doesn't manage to make sense, or when text does not live up to its intended design. I know we currently live in a world where every child gets a trophy for participation whether they're a good soccer player or not, and your high school diploma is now just one of many diplomas you've received over the years, so accomplishment and achievement are no longer unusual occurrences. Everything is now rewarded, both failure and accomplishment. But at the end of the day, I read what I enjoy (and yes, I include Fifty Shades in that category).
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| Pictured: My cup of tea (no, this joke will never get old) |
For me, talking about a book after I read it is a way to continue to connect with it. I would feel bad if an author felt sad that I didn't like their book, but I would hope that since they are an author, they know that not everyone is going to like what they have to say. I would also hope that they would know better than to come to someone's blog and start attacking the blogger for being honest about a book.
I want to tell authors that people want to like their books. We're readers, those of us who review, and we enjoy reading. We enjoy the worlds authors can create. But we also get upset when a world doesn't manage to make sense, or when text does not live up to its intended design. I know we currently live in a world where every child gets a trophy for participation whether they're a good soccer player or not, and your high school diploma is now just one of many diplomas you've received over the years, so accomplishment and achievement are no longer unusual occurrences. Everything is now rewarded, both failure and accomplishment. But at the end of the day, I read what I enjoy (and yes, I include Fifty Shades in that category).
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
A post about nothing
I know I should be posting more about Fifty Shades because I want to get it over with, but I have to re-read it at this point and make notes. I was making notes while I was reading at first, but then I had to give up because it was really breaking my concentration, so now I'm making posthumous notes on a second read. I'm not sure if my future posts will be as good because I'll have more information now, and it won't be as "real" as my previous posts, but I think I can get it funnier.
I interviewed a cat sitter last night. Chekhov consented to let the lady pet his ears and his cheeks, but watch the chin, woman. We aren't that closely acquainted yet. My bird loved her, though. Mostly because she spent her first ten minutes admiring him and saying how cute his face is. My bird is a sucker. I also predict that Chekhov will absolutely love this woman by the third day, if not before.
I read a really interesting article a week ago about children who present with psychopathic tendencies and the psychiatrists who are trying to intervene before these kids grow up to ruin people's lives. It was very thought-provoking, and it followed one family in particular who had three sons, and the eldest was the one with the presumed psychopathy. The reporter's observations were really chilling, like, the boy would get upset with his younger brother (who idolized him) about something, maybe a taken toy or taking the elder's game off of pause and affecting his score, etc., and the cold, calculating manner that the eldest would use in order to exact his revenge.
You think of kids as being more impulsive and less patient when it comes to retaliation, but this young seven-year-old boy bid his time and exacted his punishments in such a way as to try and deflect everyone from thinking he was taking revenge from the earlier infraction. When he realized that the reporter wasn't buying his act, he simply said, "As you see, I don't like my brother very much."
The worst part of the article, though, was in the comments section, when people actually started judging the parents for having more children after this one. I didn't get that. And people were liking their comments! As if it's any of their business! But it made me feel bad, because I thought that once about a family. They had six biological children, and all six had some sort of disability, including four with autism which is a statistical anomaly (Read: bullshit). My first thought was, "Munchhausen by Proxy" (probably correct) and my second thought was, "After the second, they really should have stopped. That's just wrong." Was my thought right? It feels right. It still does. That doesn't MAKE it right, but it still feels right. But I can't think that about the other parents. They have a child who will more than likely bring them heartache later in life, unless this early prevention works of course, and they deserve two kids who might actually make them happy. But what about the kids? They have to deal with an abusive older brother. How much can he hurt them? How much will their lives change because of this kid? And yet, at the end of the day, it's the parent's decision to have more.
Speaking of narcissists, my dad drunk dialed me the other day and then proceeded to tell me everything my brother has been doing since about October of last year, and no matter how much I tried to explain to him that I've actually seen and talked to my brother regularly since that time and know exactly what he's been up to, my dad just kept talking at me and telling me what was going on which was ridiculous. I mean, he called me while I was vising my brother at Christmas, and he kept getting upset that the baby was "talking" while he was trying to talk to me, so he had to know that I'd be aware of what my brother is doing! Sometimes, I get really mad at my mom for having children with him, and sometimes I get mad at God for allowing it to happen.
Anyway, that brings me to my trip that I'm about to take in a month (!!!!!!!). I have booked the plane and the rooms, now I just need to find us a car. It's my niece's first birthday! I can't wait.
I interviewed a cat sitter last night. Chekhov consented to let the lady pet his ears and his cheeks, but watch the chin, woman. We aren't that closely acquainted yet. My bird loved her, though. Mostly because she spent her first ten minutes admiring him and saying how cute his face is. My bird is a sucker. I also predict that Chekhov will absolutely love this woman by the third day, if not before.
I read a really interesting article a week ago about children who present with psychopathic tendencies and the psychiatrists who are trying to intervene before these kids grow up to ruin people's lives. It was very thought-provoking, and it followed one family in particular who had three sons, and the eldest was the one with the presumed psychopathy. The reporter's observations were really chilling, like, the boy would get upset with his younger brother (who idolized him) about something, maybe a taken toy or taking the elder's game off of pause and affecting his score, etc., and the cold, calculating manner that the eldest would use in order to exact his revenge.
You think of kids as being more impulsive and less patient when it comes to retaliation, but this young seven-year-old boy bid his time and exacted his punishments in such a way as to try and deflect everyone from thinking he was taking revenge from the earlier infraction. When he realized that the reporter wasn't buying his act, he simply said, "As you see, I don't like my brother very much."
The worst part of the article, though, was in the comments section, when people actually started judging the parents for having more children after this one. I didn't get that. And people were liking their comments! As if it's any of their business! But it made me feel bad, because I thought that once about a family. They had six biological children, and all six had some sort of disability, including four with autism which is a statistical anomaly (Read: bullshit). My first thought was, "Munchhausen by Proxy" (probably correct) and my second thought was, "After the second, they really should have stopped. That's just wrong." Was my thought right? It feels right. It still does. That doesn't MAKE it right, but it still feels right. But I can't think that about the other parents. They have a child who will more than likely bring them heartache later in life, unless this early prevention works of course, and they deserve two kids who might actually make them happy. But what about the kids? They have to deal with an abusive older brother. How much can he hurt them? How much will their lives change because of this kid? And yet, at the end of the day, it's the parent's decision to have more.
Speaking of narcissists, my dad drunk dialed me the other day and then proceeded to tell me everything my brother has been doing since about October of last year, and no matter how much I tried to explain to him that I've actually seen and talked to my brother regularly since that time and know exactly what he's been up to, my dad just kept talking at me and telling me what was going on which was ridiculous. I mean, he called me while I was vising my brother at Christmas, and he kept getting upset that the baby was "talking" while he was trying to talk to me, so he had to know that I'd be aware of what my brother is doing! Sometimes, I get really mad at my mom for having children with him, and sometimes I get mad at God for allowing it to happen.
Anyway, that brings me to my trip that I'm about to take in a month (!!!!!!!). I have booked the plane and the rooms, now I just need to find us a car. It's my niece's first birthday! I can't wait.
Monday, June 4, 2012
I hate summer
When I was in school, I always hated summer. Something I found really comforting after I graduated was that I didn't have to deal with summer any more, I would just work full time.
Now that I'm in college, I hate summer again.
I'm taking a class this coming summer (starting in a few days), so maybe I'll feel differently once that starts, but since part of this blog is to help me with my therapy, I'm going to discuss why I hate summer.
I'm not sure, I guess.
Wow, that was anti-climactic.
Okay, I don't like summer because when I'm in class during the school year, I feel like I'm moving forward, but in summer, I feel like I'm stagnating. Also, I have to deal with people who are graduating onto other things, and I'm really jealous of them. I'd give just about anything to be graduating right now.
Also, every semester in college is so much fun, I really like my classes, and I always meet one or two people to be my homegirls during the class, and I miss that when summer comes. In highschool, I lived pretty close to my best friend and could walk to her house when I wanted over the summer, and then she got her car and we could drive places which was fun, and now I'm an adult with my own car and my best friend lives really close to me and I see her a lot, but it's just always different when you're in a classroom environment. I don't know what it is for me, but it's something different. I like it better when I have a class to go to. I feel like I have purpose.
Now I'm in summer, and it just seems like there are so many months ahead of me, and they're all empty.
The hardest part of having a chemical imbalance that leads to profound depression is that nothing really triggers it. You just start feeling depressed and empty, and then you feel guilty because your life is actually okay and pretty cool, you don't know why you can't just be grateful like other people.
Well, this is making me sad, so I'm going to stop, but this is how I feel in the summer. It's always harder.
Now that I'm in college, I hate summer again.
I'm taking a class this coming summer (starting in a few days), so maybe I'll feel differently once that starts, but since part of this blog is to help me with my therapy, I'm going to discuss why I hate summer.
I'm not sure, I guess.
Wow, that was anti-climactic.
Okay, I don't like summer because when I'm in class during the school year, I feel like I'm moving forward, but in summer, I feel like I'm stagnating. Also, I have to deal with people who are graduating onto other things, and I'm really jealous of them. I'd give just about anything to be graduating right now.
Also, every semester in college is so much fun, I really like my classes, and I always meet one or two people to be my homegirls during the class, and I miss that when summer comes. In highschool, I lived pretty close to my best friend and could walk to her house when I wanted over the summer, and then she got her car and we could drive places which was fun, and now I'm an adult with my own car and my best friend lives really close to me and I see her a lot, but it's just always different when you're in a classroom environment. I don't know what it is for me, but it's something different. I like it better when I have a class to go to. I feel like I have purpose.
Now I'm in summer, and it just seems like there are so many months ahead of me, and they're all empty.
The hardest part of having a chemical imbalance that leads to profound depression is that nothing really triggers it. You just start feeling depressed and empty, and then you feel guilty because your life is actually okay and pretty cool, you don't know why you can't just be grateful like other people.
Well, this is making me sad, so I'm going to stop, but this is how I feel in the summer. It's always harder.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
"God loves you, and that's the only thing you need to know."
Those words were spoken to a friend of mine at a church when she asked a lady her name. Now, there is a bit of background to this that I don't want to share because that's her story, but let's just say that people were praying for other people, and my friend wanted to know "Who are you, oh woman who is praying for me?" and the lady was like, "God loves you, and that's the only thing you need to know."
I'm a Christian, which is something I don't always advertise because some people out there also claim to be Christian, but behave like they actually think they are The Trinity rolled into one person, and are able to dictate everyone's lives and beliefs to them whether those people appreciate it or not. But as a Christian, I am told time and again that my only relationship that needs work is the one I have with God. This rankles me, because I have not seen much evidence of this in the Bible. In fact, what I find in the Bible is a bunch of people, up to and including Jesus, exhorting me to love my fellow man.
When I was little, we would sing the "I John 4:7-8 Song" which said, "Beloved, let us love one another. For love is of God, and he that loveth is born of God and knoweth God. But he that loveth not, knoweth not God, for God is love." When I was little, John 3:16 was also the most quoted scripture. Nowadays, it's "Judge not lest ye be judged." (Mat 7:1). I can't help but think that if we were busier loving our bretheren and getting to know them, then we wouldn't have to worry about judging them because we'd be too busy loving them to judge them harshly. It's funny, but the more you love someone, the more you excuse their shortcomings and overlook it in favor of the whole person in front of you. Yes, there are times when it gets to the point that you don't want to be their friend any more, but that doesn't necessarily mean that you're sitting in judgement on them, and saying that everything they do is wrong. You can not like someone and yet not judge them.
So, my friend was at this church, and it was a terrible church. I don't know why she persisted in going there; I think she was going through a masochistic phase or something, and this lady said that to her, and she lost it. She wanted to know why Christians are always trying to make it seem like all you need is God when they themselves have a huge support network. I don't get it either, especially when I feel that the Bible is so explicit about this. So many of us want to pawn off our duty to our fellow man to God when He isn't available for hugs and afterwork drinks, He isn't going to take them shopping for new shoes or drag them to a massage parlor for some "me" time when they need it. He isn't going to roll up His sleeves and help someone change their oil, or accompany them to an auto dealership to make sure they don't get taken advantage of. Even if God had a corporeal form, it would still be up to us to do these things because that's how we demonstrate love, and in demonstrating love, we demonstrate God.
Well, a few weeks ago, I was at my weekly "home group", which is basically a group that you meet with outside of church, and you pray and read from scripture, and basically try and form a support network of other people. The lady who leads the group said that we need to have a closer relationship with God, and that when people are "struggling" (life is sucking for them), that we need to remind them to hold onto God.
When we broke up into smaller groups to pray, I told my group that it was a cop-out, and that I feel we need to be there for each other to demonstrate the love of God to people and to prop them up. I didn't put the lady down or anything, I just said that for me, I wasn't going to turn away from someone and just tell them to "seek first the kingdom of Heaven!" when they can't pay the rent because they had to choose between the rent and feeding and housing their grand kids, I'm going to help them out. Guess what? That's what the Bible says to do. The Bible says that if we see someone in need of clothing or food, then we are to feed and clothe them (by Jesus Himself). In the story of the good Samaritan, he didn't say, "Maybe you need to work on your relationship with God." No, he picked the guy up and put him in a house and got him a doctor.
Now, I want to make it clear that I don't think you should just walk up to homeless people and start bringing them home. But you can go to Costco and buy a huge box of granola bars for about ten bucks and hand those out when you see someone who looks hungry. Some of those people are going to get mad at you because it's not money. I even had a guy tell me he had a gluten allergy the other day, so I took the bar back. And then he realized that his allergy wasn't that bad, and decided he wanted it after all. And then he told me I was an uppity white girl (he was also white), but that's not going to stop me from giving people food.
The thing that bothers me is that folks from other religions and non-religious folks all get this. They understand that our fellow man is what's important. Nowadays, a church will hardly move towards any sort of charity unless they can advertise upfront that it's X Church, and THIS is what we believe, and you have to listen to a long speech by a pastor before we'll give you your new shoes and sandwiches. I do know many churches that have quiet charities and have often surprised patrons when those people found out that it was a Christian organization, because there weren't crucifixes all over the place, and no one gave a huge sermon.
Anyway, I want to do my duty as a fellow human. I want to help people, not just preach at people. I want to be proud of my religion again. I want people to stop being selfish.
That's all.
I'm a Christian, which is something I don't always advertise because some people out there also claim to be Christian, but behave like they actually think they are The Trinity rolled into one person, and are able to dictate everyone's lives and beliefs to them whether those people appreciate it or not. But as a Christian, I am told time and again that my only relationship that needs work is the one I have with God. This rankles me, because I have not seen much evidence of this in the Bible. In fact, what I find in the Bible is a bunch of people, up to and including Jesus, exhorting me to love my fellow man.
When I was little, we would sing the "I John 4:7-8 Song" which said, "Beloved, let us love one another. For love is of God, and he that loveth is born of God and knoweth God. But he that loveth not, knoweth not God, for God is love." When I was little, John 3:16 was also the most quoted scripture. Nowadays, it's "Judge not lest ye be judged." (Mat 7:1). I can't help but think that if we were busier loving our bretheren and getting to know them, then we wouldn't have to worry about judging them because we'd be too busy loving them to judge them harshly. It's funny, but the more you love someone, the more you excuse their shortcomings and overlook it in favor of the whole person in front of you. Yes, there are times when it gets to the point that you don't want to be their friend any more, but that doesn't necessarily mean that you're sitting in judgement on them, and saying that everything they do is wrong. You can not like someone and yet not judge them.
So, my friend was at this church, and it was a terrible church. I don't know why she persisted in going there; I think she was going through a masochistic phase or something, and this lady said that to her, and she lost it. She wanted to know why Christians are always trying to make it seem like all you need is God when they themselves have a huge support network. I don't get it either, especially when I feel that the Bible is so explicit about this. So many of us want to pawn off our duty to our fellow man to God when He isn't available for hugs and afterwork drinks, He isn't going to take them shopping for new shoes or drag them to a massage parlor for some "me" time when they need it. He isn't going to roll up His sleeves and help someone change their oil, or accompany them to an auto dealership to make sure they don't get taken advantage of. Even if God had a corporeal form, it would still be up to us to do these things because that's how we demonstrate love, and in demonstrating love, we demonstrate God.
Well, a few weeks ago, I was at my weekly "home group", which is basically a group that you meet with outside of church, and you pray and read from scripture, and basically try and form a support network of other people. The lady who leads the group said that we need to have a closer relationship with God, and that when people are "struggling" (life is sucking for them), that we need to remind them to hold onto God.
When we broke up into smaller groups to pray, I told my group that it was a cop-out, and that I feel we need to be there for each other to demonstrate the love of God to people and to prop them up. I didn't put the lady down or anything, I just said that for me, I wasn't going to turn away from someone and just tell them to "seek first the kingdom of Heaven!" when they can't pay the rent because they had to choose between the rent and feeding and housing their grand kids, I'm going to help them out. Guess what? That's what the Bible says to do. The Bible says that if we see someone in need of clothing or food, then we are to feed and clothe them (by Jesus Himself). In the story of the good Samaritan, he didn't say, "Maybe you need to work on your relationship with God." No, he picked the guy up and put him in a house and got him a doctor.
Now, I want to make it clear that I don't think you should just walk up to homeless people and start bringing them home. But you can go to Costco and buy a huge box of granola bars for about ten bucks and hand those out when you see someone who looks hungry. Some of those people are going to get mad at you because it's not money. I even had a guy tell me he had a gluten allergy the other day, so I took the bar back. And then he realized that his allergy wasn't that bad, and decided he wanted it after all. And then he told me I was an uppity white girl (he was also white), but that's not going to stop me from giving people food.
The thing that bothers me is that folks from other religions and non-religious folks all get this. They understand that our fellow man is what's important. Nowadays, a church will hardly move towards any sort of charity unless they can advertise upfront that it's X Church, and THIS is what we believe, and you have to listen to a long speech by a pastor before we'll give you your new shoes and sandwiches. I do know many churches that have quiet charities and have often surprised patrons when those people found out that it was a Christian organization, because there weren't crucifixes all over the place, and no one gave a huge sermon.
Anyway, I want to do my duty as a fellow human. I want to help people, not just preach at people. I want to be proud of my religion again. I want people to stop being selfish.
That's all.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
And now it's summer
I took my final on Monday, and my lab final the week before. I don't have school tonight or for the rest of the summer. I'm taking an online course for American History, which I'm pretty burned that I have to take.
Well, it's my fault. I had filled out this form of all the classes I needed to take for the university, and I also had to fill in any prerequisites or classes that needed to be taken to graduate Community College. World History fulfilled my "arts and humanities" requirement, and there were two classes. History of the World Part I, and History of the World Part II: Hitler on Ice. (My teacher actually said that at one point, and I was so tempted to say, "We're at now now. Everything that is happening now is happening now." "But what about then?" "We passed then." "When?" "Just now." "When can we go back to then?" "Soon." but it never happened.) (Did I ever mention that he looked like Harrison Ford and always wore a three-piece suit and a fedora? I miss that class.) (Where was I?) (Oh, right, I took both classes.) Only I didn't have to take both classes. I needed to take American History (X) instead of History of the World Part II: Hitler on Ice.
It's not that I don't care about the history of America. I do. I've learned about it all my life. Besides, World History included America, so why couldn't I just go with that?
Oh, no dice, said my counselor. It's a requirement.
And so, I am taking American History now in the summer semester just to get rid of it. Plus, it'll give me something to do so I don't get all caught up in my usual summer depression. And I still have my kick-punch class to look forward to.
Oh, and Bitterblue by Kristin Cashore has been sent to my Kindle! It's been on there since April 30th, but I've been busy getting through the fourth Green Rider book, so I haven't noticed until just now. I'm almost done, and it's not disappointing me so far.
Naturally, I still have the Cat Stevens song stuck in my head. But that's okay.
Well, it's my fault. I had filled out this form of all the classes I needed to take for the university, and I also had to fill in any prerequisites or classes that needed to be taken to graduate Community College. World History fulfilled my "arts and humanities" requirement, and there were two classes. History of the World Part I, and History of the World Part II: Hitler on Ice. (My teacher actually said that at one point, and I was so tempted to say, "We're at now now. Everything that is happening now is happening now." "But what about then?" "We passed then." "When?" "Just now." "When can we go back to then?" "Soon." but it never happened.) (Did I ever mention that he looked like Harrison Ford and always wore a three-piece suit and a fedora? I miss that class.) (Where was I?) (Oh, right, I took both classes.) Only I didn't have to take both classes. I needed to take American History (X) instead of History of the World Part II: Hitler on Ice.
It's not that I don't care about the history of America. I do. I've learned about it all my life. Besides, World History included America, so why couldn't I just go with that?
Oh, no dice, said my counselor. It's a requirement.
And so, I am taking American History now in the summer semester just to get rid of it. Plus, it'll give me something to do so I don't get all caught up in my usual summer depression. And I still have my kick-punch class to look forward to.
Oh, and Bitterblue by Kristin Cashore has been sent to my Kindle! It's been on there since April 30th, but I've been busy getting through the fourth Green Rider book, so I haven't noticed until just now. I'm almost done, and it's not disappointing me so far.
Naturally, I still have the Cat Stevens song stuck in my head. But that's okay.
Monday, May 14, 2012
What you define as attractive
I'm just going to come out and say that I love a guy in drag.
I don't know if it started with Tim Curry, or if there was some other beginning to my fascination with transvestites, but I do know that when I see Eddie Izzard strutting his stuff, I love it. Those sky-high heels, the skirts and leggings. So sexy.
I also appreciate the androgyny of people like David Bowie and Annie Lennox, though I don't quite find it as appealing as Bowie in full on Jareth clothes.
Bowie has never really shied away from the use of makeup, though, and I think that's one of his appeals. He's also pretty gorgeous. So is Eddie.
I was sad when Eddie started wearing menswear more often. I mean, I'm glad for him that he continues to wear what he likes when he likes it, and he doesn't care what anyone says, but his blue eyes just cry out for liner and mascara, and why shouldn't he obey that call?
I'm not really into the whole RuPaul Drag Race, though. I think that what those people do is incredible, and that having men live out loud in their preferred choice of clothing is helping other men turn to their own predilections, and that's a wonderful thing.
I am, however, a straight woman, and when it comes to romantic entanglements, I like straight men. Straight men who aren't afraid to wear women's underwear under their trousers. I envision a relationship where my guy and I go lingerie shopping together, for each other.
I don't know why I am this way. I mean, assuming that this way isn't normal, although it must be...I don't see how it's not normal. Clothes are clothes, and for some reason, most clothes have gender associated with them. Women wear frills and soft lines. Men wear military cuts. It's the way of the world.
Yeah, whatever. I know what I like. I like the military cuts. I just like silk and frills underneath it.
I don't know if it started with Tim Curry, or if there was some other beginning to my fascination with transvestites, but I do know that when I see Eddie Izzard strutting his stuff, I love it. Those sky-high heels, the skirts and leggings. So sexy.
I also appreciate the androgyny of people like David Bowie and Annie Lennox, though I don't quite find it as appealing as Bowie in full on Jareth clothes.
I was sad when Eddie started wearing menswear more often. I mean, I'm glad for him that he continues to wear what he likes when he likes it, and he doesn't care what anyone says, but his blue eyes just cry out for liner and mascara, and why shouldn't he obey that call?
I'm not really into the whole RuPaul Drag Race, though. I think that what those people do is incredible, and that having men live out loud in their preferred choice of clothing is helping other men turn to their own predilections, and that's a wonderful thing.
I am, however, a straight woman, and when it comes to romantic entanglements, I like straight men. Straight men who aren't afraid to wear women's underwear under their trousers. I envision a relationship where my guy and I go lingerie shopping together, for each other.
I don't know why I am this way. I mean, assuming that this way isn't normal, although it must be...I don't see how it's not normal. Clothes are clothes, and for some reason, most clothes have gender associated with them. Women wear frills and soft lines. Men wear military cuts. It's the way of the world.
Yeah, whatever. I know what I like. I like the military cuts. I just like silk and frills underneath it.
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