Made a few edits to the FAQ, minor adjustments for the most part, but I did add one link, to John Scalzi’s take-down of trolls who try to invoke First Amendment rights to justify hate speech and other violations of comment policy on other people’s blogs.
Go ahead and read it, if you haven’t come across it already. It’s pretty much all there.
… after a Really Long Day on Not Enough Sleep, I had to do something that made me feel better.
So, may I present, a cute puppy outside:
I am beautiful. Right now.
Theriomorph has broken my heart, because every word is true. In the estimation of myself, as influenced by the porntastic patriarchal diatribes traveling on waves from screen and speaker and mouth to ear, I’ve been too-thin, too-fat, too-everything, never right. And at the root of it all is this pernicious pervasive thought: You are the only one. You are the only one who doesn’t fit it, who isn’t right, who needs fixing.
That is the great lie.
Women are set up to fail at being beautiful, at being sexy, at being everything we are ’supposed’ to be in order to be of value. If we fail at conforming, we supposedly fail at being human beings. And non-humans are fit for only consumption. Indeed, fi, cannibalism is alive and well.
I refuse to be fit only for consumption, although my opinion in the matter counts for little in much of the world’s estimation.
I had this thought last night: Thank god I’m fat, so I can be a feminist.
This is also a lie of sorts. I am only sort of fat. I am only sort of willing to call myself that. I am only sort of sure that weighing more than I ‘ought’ to and being classified as sort of obese is protecting me at all from the false visibility of the patriarchy-conforming. I am still have the approved facial structure, the approved height, the approved legginess, and I still practice some of the approved femininity. I do not conform to size, and I purposefully neglect makeup and gym workouts, ultra-sexy clothing, push-up bras and hobbling crippling footwear. I am still white and blue-eyed. I still appear relatively young.
It takes all my ferocity some days to carve out a space for myself, in which I am both around people and beautiful. Beautiful because I’m strong. Beautiful because I am smart. Beautiful because I care about myself. Beautiful because I am and do all these things in defiance of the dominant culture that says I must be deferent, polite, not take up too much mental emotional spiritual physical space. The culture that says because I do certain things like eat, I don’t care about how I look.
What I am struggling daily not to care about is the expectations of how I should look in order to be deemed human, and the opinions of those who require me to display fuckability and play into my own oppression.
I guarantee you, I am beautiful right now.
Once I have other women to compare myself to, the struggle will begin. Divide and conquer, the winningest strategy.
“At last, a rich white man will be in power!” - Montgomery Burns, “The Simpsons Movie”.
No dragons, no treasure, no dwarfs, and no wizards.
Just mountains, coffee shops, a little cottage and quiet. Read the rest of this entry »
A few days ago I posted in regards to my role as witness to the small happenings in life. Now, thanks to a contest on Joel’s blog I am realizing this goes for tales of the paranormal as well….
One of my cousins claims to have seen the ghost of a small boy standing next to her bed in the old house on Thomas St. in Jonesboro (they lived there for many years, and we rented the house after they had moved elsewhere.) She said (if I recall correctly) that he was standing there just looking at her, dressed in ‘old clothes’ (old-fashioned clothes?). She blinked her eyes and he dissapeared.
The only actual scary experience I’ve had was with a Ouija board. I was at Nikki’s dorm room with Kortney (and I think Kit, but I’m not sure there) and we were doing the usual deal. It started spelling for us at one point “Look behind Jo…”
Once it got to the O in Jo, I freaked out and refused to participate anymore. Once I gave up my willing suspension of disbelief the ‘game’ stopped (didn’t go to any letters, no longer spelled anything out, that sort of thing).
That was just too close to home for me. Too weird.
So maybe I’m not just a spectator. Still, I think I prefer that role anyway.
random wastes of time
Foss had a ton of quizzes up yesterday. I just couldn’t help myself.
Congratulations! Your quiz score reveals that you feel strong, confident and in control. Maybe you recently found the love of your life, or perhaps your boss is finally rewarding you for the all the extra business you’ve been bringing into the office. Whatever the case, you feel secure with yourself and ready to take on any future challenges. Just remember, there are some things in life that we can never control — so if you slip from your pedestal of power from time to time, don’t be too hard on yourself.
the third wave: reclaiming ourselves
Today’s food for thought came courtesy of an interview with Debbie Stoller from Ennui Magazine. The article brings up a good point: how to balance second wave feminism (”women must have careers to be fulfilled”) with traditional women’s roles, which may very well bring fulfillment.
I am an independent woman. I am also a homebody. There are very few things better to me than spending a Saturday at home, taking care of the place I live, and cooking a meal for myself and whomever else. I feel better with a clean house, and I get a sense of accomplishment from both the cooking and cleaning, traditional “women’s-work”.
There will be more thought on this later. I am certain of it.
post-modern expressionism
… and the first thing I run into today is cat connor talking about ‘inline tags’. I %acutally% hadn’t seen anything like them. How out of the loop am I? Enough that I don’t much care if there is a loop, ~thank you very much~.
I miss creative emoticons, myself. when was the last time you saw a good punk-rocker smiley? or the pope? or santa claus?
= 
real punk rockers don’t smile.
