Some things stay the same

A word to any man thinking about committing suicide in order to draw attention to the plight of women in ANY country: FORGET IT!. Okay, I guess that was two words. Nonetheless, the comment stands. Your suicide does not help any woman anywhere. In fact, the end result is this: you’re leaving those same women behind to face their fates without your help. It is the single most egotistical and patriarchal thing you could ever do. Shame on you, from here to eternity! Stay and fight for women. Don’t check out like a little chicken shit and leave the women alone with all the assholes who will continue to persecute and use them. This Iranian guy who committed suicide shouldn’t be in the news. Or if he IS in the news, it should be with all I just said. That he was weak, he did NOTHING to help ANY woman, and that if you feel women are being treated poorly, fucking get up off your lazy and scared asses and DO something about it.

Yeah. That one really got to me. I’m glad there are men who care, but I’m totally disappointed with their damned half hearted response – as usual. I mean, I can’t be the only person on the planet who noticed that Biden was fairly quick to shove a law down the throats of everyone in the US stating that people (ie: MEN) can marry whomever they want. He still hasn’t introduced anything with language about protecting women’s basic rights. Nope. He’s overseeing the most massive shut down of women’s reproductive rights ever and he’s saying nothing about it.

Oh. And here’s MY two cents. I think that males should be forced to get vasectomies as soon as their junk starts to produce sperm. IF they ever want to have children, they can have the vasectomy reversed. Now THAT is the equivalent of forcing women to bear children rather than having the right to terminate. I’m all for it. I think women in the US should start to push this idea. Push and push and push. Every time reproductive rights come up, this should be brought up.

I am sick to DEATH of men blaming women for everything.

I suppose a lot is coming up lately because T’s bought loads of old entertainment. We recently watched Raw from Eddie Murphy, who did an entire slew of jokes in his set about women and how they should be grateful for anything men give to them. Specifically, he went off on the no-fault divorce clause in a lot of states. While I wasn’t thrilled to sit thru that tirade – or maybe I should call it a tantrum – I recognised it as a symptom of the time more than a statement on Murphy’s real feelings. No one discussed how society was set up to keep women, particularly single women, in poverty. How we were paid so much less and how everything, from our personal hygiene items to our clothes, cost more than that of men. It’s a lot like how I remember my dad. Dad went off on his rants. Absolutely. And he said things that were just as bad as what I heard in Murphy’s stand-up. But I think both men were intelligent enough that had the facts been explained to them, they would have cut that shit out. Maybe I give them more credit than they deserve. But it’s how I see it. Or, more literally, it’s how I feel it. Just instinct. And hope.

Cause that’s all we got in the end, ladies, right? Hope. Hope that if we continue to point these differences based on sex out to our male counterparts, we’ll eventually teach them.

Goddess! Sometimes it feels like we’re trying to teach brick walls, right?

And Xmas just doesn’t help. Because Xmas means holiday films and specials. I’ve had a glut recently of older films. Right now I’ve got South Pacific playing. Yikes! One song was literally about paedophilia. The young lieutenant was singing to his island girlfriend. First he called her a ‘kid’ and then he sang a song with lyrics that stated she was ‘younger than springtime’, etc. etc. Yikes! We should all be glad that the times, they have a-changed. Seriously.

But I think it’s also important to remember where we came from. Just looked it up; the film South Pacific was done in 1958. And the setting of the story is obvious; the South Pacific during WWII. Less than 100 years ago, this was totally acceptable. In fact, it’s billed as a romance. So this child bride set-up? It was okay only 80 years ago.

…Ugh. We fight the good fight. Whether or not it’s in the news, whether or not we have basic human rights, we fight the good fight. Slowly. Child by child, we build.

My sleep hasn’t been good. Our noisy neighbours continue to be assholes. I lay in my bed at night, totally tensed up, waiting for the next loud scream or bang or shout. Last night was bad. I almost got up because I could hear it over my sound generator. Mostly I just lay there, trying to work out how to get my revenge without causing me any trouble. I’ve considered pelting their door with rotten eggs or dropping a bag of dog shit on their doorstep. Writing ‘assholes’ across their door with spray paint. Sending dog shit thru the post as a package. A lot of what I imagine includes dog shit, which is better than when I spent all my time imagining how I could set up the perfect spot to murder them all via a good rifle. Anyway, that’s what’s been the problem. I’m keeping my sound generator fully charged. And I really hope it backs off, because I don’t want to have to stay up waiting for the police. I just want to effing sleep.

Meanwhile: my hair is looking a bit straggly. I really need to spend the time in front of a mirror with my hair gel and try to get it looking neater. Doesn’t mean I don’t love it; I still do. And I found yet another reason to love it: it holds my hair so WELL! When I did some baking, all I had to do was pull all the braids back into a ponytail. Did I get any stray hairs falling out of my head? Nope. Did I worry one BIT about dropping one of my long hairs into the batter? Nope. Didn’t need to, ’cause it’s in box braids. A regular ponytail? Well, that can be problematic. My usual long, single braid? Also a problem that too easily allows loose hairs to fall from my head. Not my box braids! I have NO fear of my hair doing anything it shouldn’t. Man! I love this! Trying to keep it up until late January. Then I’ll take a few weeks to allow my hair to relax, ’cause my hair will be kinky for awhile. I’ll get M to cut the layers into my hair that we talked about. And then, before it gets too warm, I’ll get more braids put in for summer. It’ll be perfect. Gotta say, I am worried that I’ll encounter prejudice if I wear box braids to a job interview. I’ll try to work around that. Get a job with my hair down and then get the braids done later on. Or maybe I won’t. I shouldn’t HAVE to. But I’ve seen the older white Dutch: they don’t look at me, they look above me with this hair. I don’t know. I DO know there’s prejudice out there and I may shoot myself in the foot if I wear box braids and get dismissed out of hand due to it. But even the thought of it makes me angry. I should be able to go out and interview no matter what.

Truthfully, it’s the same argument as whether or not I wear make-up when I interview. And I’m just as wishy-washy in my feelings about it. I know it could happen. Sooner or later, it’s bound to happen. Then again, if a firm or employer feels that way, I don’t want to work for them anyway because there’d be other shit as well.

*sigh* I still don’t know how to approach any of this. Cave in to this social pressure? I’d maximise my chances. But I’d also let myself down. I’d feel like I caved. Or do I stand against it and go out there with box braids in my hair and no make-up? And if I want to be accepted as I am, don’t I have to have the courage to put myself out there ‘as I am’? The answer, of course, is YES.

Okay. So I’m scared shitless of doing just that. Heading out with no make-up and my hair the way I want it to be. I shouldn’t feel that way. I head outside every day looking like that, with no make-up and my hair proudly displayed. But that’s because I also know most people don’t spare me a glance because I’m older. It’s the idea of being under scrutiny, which one IS during a job interview, that makes me feel uneasy. Those half-hidden biases that everyone has comes into play in situations like that. Is the person across from you finding you attractive? Then you’ve got the job. I hate to say it that way, but that’s been my experience. Ugh. I suppose that actually says more about ME than anything else, right? It was my experience. I got jobs when the people interviewing me liked me. Simple as that. Or that’s the way I always felt…

Who knew growing old would take so much courage? No one tells you THAT! But it’s true. You gotta face your fears when your health goes to hell. Face your own mortality. And you gotta deal with a society that, by and large, doesn’t respect you.

And I know! I should be used to that, right? But I’m not. For as much as I always bitched about not feeling attractive, I knew I was. To a certain percentage of men, anyway. I suppose in truth, I can still say that. But that percentage continues to decrease. I can no longer walk into a crowded club and immediately get served. I can’t partake of all the little things that came my way because people found me attractive.

Whine, whine, whine. C’mon, Beeps! It isn’t like you ever felt okay or beautiful. Yes, you know a certain amount of men found you attractive. It was very useful when your car got a flat tyre. Never had to dirty your hands, did you? You knew a smile would get you a free pass to a lot of things and you enjoyed them. Get over it. If you can’t, write a damned book about it.

Oooooooo! Man! I can really slam myself, can’t I?

Just goes to prove that no matter how much things change, some things stay the same.

Hackles

Absolution. Wasn’t looking for it this morning. But when an American protester came on tv to spout his home grown wisdom that ‘everyone has the right to believe whatever they want’, I realised his argument gave me ample fuel to not only feel good but right in my opinion that the world would be a better place if someone killed people like him.

Maybe I’ve been watching too much Dexter…

Query that has nothin’ to do with much of anything other than the story just flashed on the tv: Why the FUCK are all the big designers for women’s fashion men? You men wouldn’t ask a woman to design the world’s best cup to cover and protect your balls during high contact activity. We wouldn’t know what’s uncomfortable. So why have so many men ended up designing women’s fashion? No wonder so much of it hurts! FUCK! Let’s stop this right the fuck now.

And that little rant was a nice temporary distraction from my original thought. Truth is, I think I’ve always felt this way. Get the trouble makers out of the equation. Experience has backed me up on that, too. Too often in school I was put into groups that had to work together, and the weakest link was always the fucking problem. They always fucked it up, they always brought the average down for the rest of us. They didn’t listen, they didn’t do things right, and they were always a problem in communication and problem solving because they didn’t cooperate with others. That’s true of society, as well. It’s the dregs that drag the rest of us down. How did we get here? The dregs. Why is there so much crap out there? The dregs. Why is the lowest common denominator SO fucking low? The dregs.

Honestly, that fucking social experiment has been going on for fucking forever yet it seems that very few are willing to admit what I’m ranting about. Seriously. My shit was going on back in the 70s. Who of you out there DIDN’T have to work in a group in school? I guess if you were the dregs of the group, you might not recognise this pattern. But the rest of you should. This has been done in schools. In governments. In every level of society. And still we do it. Still we put up with the fucking dregs, allowing them to take us all down in the name of equality.

But equality is a human concept. There is no equality in nature. The biggest, baddest wolf is the Alpha. The biggest, baddest bear doesn’t have to put up with shit from anyone. The biggest, baddest tree grabs all the light and nutrients so nothing else has a chance to grow. THIS is truth: there is no equality. There is no equality among humans, either. We talk about it. Some places even make laws saying everyone has to have equality. But we haven’t actually GOT equality anywhere. Not between the sexes. Not between the races. Not between countries. It’s a fucking illusionary thing that has no concrete basis in reality.

I’m all for across the board IQ testing. And psych evaluation! I imagine there are a hell of a lot of people in the US who are bright but also so fucking sadistic that they should be thrown out of the bell curve. If you’re not smart enough, you don’t get a say. You don’t get a vote. You don’t get a lot of stuff, because you’re proven to lack the capacity of logical thought. We don’t give kids any rights. Some of them would actually qualify under my system because it says nothing of age. I’m asking for the basis to be founded on comprehension and intelligence. Frankly, I would have qualified rather young myself under this system.

Grrrrrrr.

News or the lack of it: Hm. Are the Dutch news outlets following my blog? Joking, naturally. Pretty sure I have zero Dutch readers. But odd how many of my statements about the lack of news and hard numbers are all over the headlines today. Today is pretty much what I said yesterday: infection numbers around 50,000; schools unsure or unable to fully open; personnel dropping like flies from exhaustion in many vital industries; inflation, inflation, inflation.

lol. T just got a call from yet another energy company asking him to switch providers. He gave the best answer I’ve ever heard and I didn’t even have to effing know what the guy on the phone said because T put it so damned well: Yeah, that’s true everywhere. Everyone on the planet is gonna be paying more for energy because costs are rising. Boom, mic drop. The call ended pretty quickly after that.

Cookies today. Gotta get the butter out and softening. I’m looking forward to the simplicity of it. Watching the butter cream. Getting the right look to the dough. Baking the cookies, enjoying the smell. And then waiting, because these cookies are best once they’re totally cooled. It’s a simple ask.

Not such a simple ask: music. Pull everything out again, hook it up, start work. T will help me, naturally. But there’s plenty I just have to do. Listen to the songs again. Think about what sound I might use; both the guitarist and the drummer asked me about different sounds. Figure out what I need to add and where, then try and transpose it into whatever key the band is playing. A lot of sloggy work.

A bit of this, a bit of that. Still trying to roll with the punches. Telling myself that the system of doing a bit every day WILL eventually get me there, no matter how many stops and starts I’ve got. Telling myself that I need to keep my cool, too. I can feel that antsy sort of irritable feeling going inside me. Talking back at the telly, sniping over this or that issue.

My hackles are up.

Whatever the fuck hackles are.

House of Mirrors

My purely internal rant yesterday came to fruition today: I heard how I shouldn’t be so damned angry, how there was nothing I could do about it anyway, how I should just let go of this feminist anger because all it does is upset me. Pretty much a verbatim repeat of what I wrote. That doesn’t show I’m prescient, it just shows I know my bro very well. It also shows I’m in a rut. This is a rinse and repeat of my life and it’s getting me nowhere.

Really bridled at the ‘you can’t do anything about it anyway’ bullshit. Oh, my heels dug in on that one! Yes there IS something I can do about it. I can move ahead with my determination to combat it every single moment from now on in my own manner. NOT wear make-up. NOT add to that bullshit. Speak up when it happens and point out the hypocrisy. And never, ever again buy into the ‘you can’t do anything about it’ standard line from men who are just fed up with hearing about my all too righteous anger.

My mind has been wandering. Thinking about sexism in all its manifestations.

Girls are stupid. Is there one female out there, particularly in the US, who hasn’t run into this line while growing up? Didn’t we all hear it from our male companions in school at one point or another? That pat dismissal of simply being a female that begins way before puberty. Maybe it was an era thing, maybe that’s gone from modern kid communication, but somehow I doubt it. Little boys do that because they don’t understand girls’ intelligence. It’s well documented that girls far exceed boys at that age in both intelligence and understanding. But even then, we are dismissed as being ‘stupid’ simply because our male counterparts aren’t up to our level. Now, if boys were severely reprimanded for that shit, if it was publicly pointed out that no, the girls consistently scored higher than the boys and this was just the boys acting out in fear against the girls, maybe I’d let it slide. But like so many things in society, it’s glossed over. Nothing is said, nothing is learned, and those same boys grow up to be the sexist assholes who try to hold women back at every turn. Boys’ egos need pruning as they grow up; girls’ egos need assistance – and that’s just to combat all the other shit going on 24/7. The continued image presented on every glossy photo. The continued ‘dumb blond’ running gags, or the bad women drivers gags, or any of the other inbred, daily discrediting of women as a whole. It’s got to begin early on, too. No blue for boys and pink for girls; let’s ditch that completely. Let kids play with whatever they want to play with: dolls, action figures, sports equipment or mom’s high heels. Snip early bullshit from boys right away; don’t let them get away with calling girls stupid or smelly or whatever else they come up with to put us down. And it’s GOTTA come from the schools because you can’t trust parents to actually teach this.

You know, some things you just don’t get until you get older. I didn’t even know what questions to ask my mother when she died. I was in my early 20s. Now, as an older woman, I have a long list of stuff I should have asked about. But back then I was way too tied up in my bullshit to even know what was bullshit and what was worthwhile. Plus, my parents were right wing hardliners (with notable exceptions, like the abortion issue). I’m owning up to that these days. Just like I’m owning up to the fact that children, in my family, were something to be worried and disappointed over. If I’d become pregnant in my youth it would have all been negative. Those videos of mothers being excited when told their children are going to have children are so fucking foreign to me I can’t even begin to imagine it. Even when my eldest brother’s first wife became pregnant, while they were fucking married, no less, it was greeted with less than enthusiastic responses. Worried looks. Is this the right time? Are you ready for the responsibility? Children cause so much stress. They cost so very much. They’re not fun. They tie you down, they demand your attention 24/7, they pester you for your attention… They are so much WORK. Then my parents’ reluctant acceptance. Oh, C was happily excited over a baby in the family. No doubt. But the thought of it growing into a real child was a total downer. The reality in my family was that upcoming childbirth was nothing to celebrate. We girls learned that lesson well; none of us reproduced – even among my further cousins. Only the boys impregnated their non-family raised females.

What I could have been, had I been raised in another family! I know it’s one of those moot issues I shouldn’t give any energy to, but I can’t help it from time to time. That’s one of the saddest parts of this whole thing to me: it took me a really long time to break my programming, and once I did, the question Why? became so damned important for me to understand that I lost yet more years figuring it out. I know I had to do all that to get here. I know the journey is the thing. Still. If none of that had been in my way…

At least I’m old enough and wise enough to know I would have had other issues. The grass may seem greener, but once you get there you find it’s got just as many weeds and potholes as the other side of the fence.

It all comes down to how happy you are, right where you are.

I could be happier.

I could also be more miserable.

Sad to say, but it’s true: sometimes that’s what it comes down to for me. Not happiness, but the least miserable option. Or that’s the way it feels. Does that mean I’m not grateful for what I have? I sure as hell hope not. I feel all too aware, more and more poignantly every day, how lucky I am to be here in my life. And by ‘here’ I mean it all: the Netherlands, Rotterdam, my age, my self acceptance, my flat, my life.

Damn. You know what I REALLY feel like? That Afghan refugee who tweeted about his small meal. Everyone went ballistic over that, saying he was so ungrateful for what he’d been given for free. But it was painfully obvious that what he was given was inadequate and he was totally right for speaking up. I can so relate! I know I’m luckier than billions of women all over the planet. But I also feel I’m in the right to continue to be irritated, to continue to fight for equality when it’s so fucking obvious that women are treated as second class citizens even in the ‘advanced’ western world.

… And, yes: I know. I know this feeling is being reinforced in my mind by T’s behaviour over this issue. I also know I continue to set up these incidents in my life that echo back to me precisely what I think they will. Somehow, I’m creating this over and over.

I’m wandering around in a House of Mirrors.

Pause

Saturday: an easy, breezy day no matter how you slice it.

Took a break from my heavy reading last night and just worked some sudoku before sleeping. Felt like I needed that pause before continuing.

Like it or not, I’ve begun some half hearted searches for the information I feel I’d need to answer my many questions. It’s not been encouraging. ‘Historical’ copies of women’s ‘zines only seem to go back to the early 2000s. I want info from 1960 to 1975 or 1980. Have found JPEGs of ‘zine covers, which at least show me some of the articles included therein.

Must admit, I feel like I’m beginning with a prejudice. My mind is fairly set on the idea that cultural and social influences during my formative years were still the source of the predominating propaganda spooned down women’s throats. In addition to the heavy influence of reading material, my generation had something new to contend with: music videos. Suddenly, we were inundated by vids with scantily clad women draped over cars and men; the antithesis of the feminist view. Social and cultural influences turned the 50s housewife into the 80s video girl – and girl is the correct term. Females were not portrayed as women, but girls. They still are for the most part. The softness of Allie McBeal’s parted lips as she struggled through ‘a man’s world’ was hailed as ground breaking; view it now, and it’s offensive. When Murphy Brown, another female role model of that time, became a single mother on tv, both the show and the actress attracted personal attacks for such a portrayal. And recently, we have culminated our ‘feminist journey’ with the release of WAP (Wet Ass Pussy). Women have taken the mantle of ‘freedom’ and simply turned it back on its head, once again. We have been told our ‘freedom’ comes these days in the form of sexual freedom. That’s been pushed at us for a long time now. You can see evidence of it even in children’s programming; how often are young girls sexualised? And what damage was done by people such as Brittany Spears and Madonna, who perpetrated this sexualised version of womanhood?

Even while it was happening, I knew. I knew women’s magazines were largely headed by men. I could see and understand what was going on while, at the same time in my youthful ignorance, I took part in it – mostly due to the fact that I truly believed that path would lead me to rewards not offered to my mother’s generation. But the promises were empty, as empty as the brain washing material fed to us every month in a new issue. We garnished no praise for what we did. Instead, we faced the backlash of being called whores by the conservatives. Those of us who grew up with headlines such as ‘How to Please your Man and Keep Him Pleased’ or fluff stories stuffed between the glossy ads that told us it was chic and new to have two lovers at the same time experienced a different reality than what we were fed on. We could only be that sexualised version if we were thin and blond and wore black and heavy make-up. We must grow our hair long, to entice the sexuality of our men. We must gyrate and simper; we must be the sex bunnies. We must take diet pills and see and explosion of eating disorders in younger and younger girls. And even our own sex told us these things; wear make-up to feel better about yourself. Those high heels will give you added height when confronting your male counterparts. It’s great that young girls are expressing themselves by wearing sexy clothing, make-up, and doing sexualised dancing on videos.

Can’t get the old Virginia Slims ad line out of my head: You’ve come a long way, baby. That was supposed to empower us. The ads showed a young, slim, smiling woman smoking a cigarette. But no one questioned the use of ‘baby’. No one questioned what we were supposed to have won by this image, yet it remained in use for many years and became, for me at least, a rallying cry. Really? You’ve come a long way, baby. Smacks of the male patriarchy to me. The condensation towards the female sex is unquestionable.

Television did nothing for women during my childhood, either. I am old enough to remember a few 60s shows that were still in production while I was young: The Flying Nun, That Girl, and Room 222. While dated, these shows attempted to fulfil the desire to see young women in the world, working, and making their own way. But then came the Aaron Spelling spew of Charlie’s Angels, The Love Boat, and eventually Dynasty and 90210. The image of the 60s woman was wiped away by the new glamour and softness: a woman could be ‘hard’ to a point, but must never become less than feminine. The fighting was laughable, the moral stances taken by the characters shallow and worthless. American women were shown what I like to call ‘the Emma Peel’ perspective: fighting women who looked fabulous, wore the latest fashion, and never lost their femininity. They were hollow role models, but they were all we had.

The first time I saw a real female character kick ass was in the 1996 film The Long Kiss Goodnight. This is a film shown often on EU programming; it’s one of the Christmas films that aren’t really about Christmas. However, I noticed even before I left the US in the late 90s that it seemed to be blacklisted in America. It wasn’t shown, or pushed, or easily available. Whether that was due to the portrayal of women by Geena Davis or the underlying plot, which portrayed a rogue American servant planning a terrorist attack on US soil in order to get more money for the military, I couldn’t say. But I can tell you it was damned difficult to hold of a copy in the US. Much easier here. As far as I know, it’s a largely forgotten film in the US. And that’s a pity. Davis is outstanding in it. But it took ’til 96 to get this portrayal of women out into the public. And then it suffered a very harsh back lash.

…That’s all whirling around in my head. All those thoughts and ideas. I’m impressed my fingers were able to keep up with me.

Meanwhile, NL news: We’re still in tight lock down. Scuttlebutt is that we may remain in tight lock down for several more weeks. Infection rates are skyrocketing and hospitalisations are up. The UK and the SA variants have been detected here. Border patrol turned away a dozen British citizens trying to get in. The vaccination process is moving slowly and getting a lot of negative press, saying it’s too slow or the health officials feel they’re being used as guinea pigs. Snow and ice warnings are out for much of the country.

Hunkering down in the cold. The sun is shining, but between infection rates and the temperature, I don’t want to go out. Still controlling what I can control and taking care of myself.

I’ve too much to process right now; that much should be evident by the above.

I think I’ll stay on pause for a while.

I treasure it

Forty years. For 40 years, I’ve chased the memory of a German bakery’s cake. It was in the town near my parents’ home when I was a child, and was invariably my favourite cake asked for on every birthday. They called it a Bavarian Cream cake: white cake layers split by a thin layer of bavarian cream and topped by whipped icing. Little did I know when I was young how much I’d have to learn and experiment with before I cracked it. I finally have it. It’s not a perfect match; my attempt is far more amateur than the bakery’s. But I think in my own kitchen it’s as close as I’ll ever get.

On the heels of my discovery came another: my 55 year old stomach can’t handle a large slice of said cake like I could when I was 15. Ugh. I’m still full from the piece I had last night. M’s gonna walk away with several slices to save my waistline from exploding more than it already has.

And, by the way, it’s not always true that more sugar = more sweetness. I used more sugar in this thing than any other cake I can remember, but it doesn’t come off as super sweet. Creamy would be a better word than sweet. I’ve definitely found THE white cake recipe; never have I worked with a cake so easy to cut and handle. I suspect it’s the use of egg whites rather than whole eggs that makes the difference. If I was decent at cake decorating I think I could do well with it in my own little bakery. Alas; I’m not great at decorating. But this is a wedding cake type thing. A bit tricky to make well, but oh so worth it in the end. I mean, the layers didn’t even have that rounded top on them. They baked totally flat topped. In other words, there wasn’t a top I had to shave off in order to put the cake together. WOW!

NL news: Coronavirus infections have dipped below 5000 for the first time in days. And that’s as good as it gets right now. Seeing more and more articles regarding domestic abuse and deteriorating mental health. Both are on the rise. Not surprising. Nor do I find surprising the articles stating equality is suffering as women are expected to pick up most of the slack in domestic situations. I mean… Did anyone really think that shifted? I didn’t. I have first hand experience with that one, as T won’t even do dishes before I have a big baking day to get all the dirty crap out of my way. I have to do it. And I have to do dishes multiple times during the day when I bake in order to get all the bulky items clean and put away. Oh, he’ll come out of his room and polish up one or two items in the drying rack. But I have to finish it off and put everything away. Every time. *sigh*

Finished Crime and Punishment last night. I’ve got to say, I was more intrigued by the last paragraph’s hint at the on-going story than I was by the entire novel. Ach! Too many chapters spent on inconsequential dialogue. And honestly, if the point was to write about mental health, I don’t think it was handled well. I’m not sure distorted mental health can actually be written by someone who’s not experienced it. Perhaps Dostoevsky did experience depression; certainly some of the footnotes seem to indicate that. But full blown understanding of deeply held depression? No. I don’t think he captured it. Close, but no cigar.

Then again, I’m irritated by all the people going on the news talking about their lock down depression. Oh, get real! These people are talking, smiling, their hair is brushed, they’ve got make-up on. All signs that their ‘depression’ isn’t like the depression I and others I’ve known have experienced. Gimme someone who’s still in their pjs, unkempt hair, with non-stop crying. That’s what I call depression. Not feeling a bit lonely or bad for a day or two.

But I’ve noticed that trend, too. The people you hear about in stories or news items – whether they’re ‘disabled’ or ‘depressed’ – often are the people who ‘suffer’ on the light side. I mean… Great that so and so, in a wheelchair, managed to go out and learn how to play basketball. But look at the resources and support of that one person. It’s the exception, not the rule. The people who are really suffering don’t want to be shown on tv. They have a difficult time every minute of every day. They don’t have a team of people helping them nor unlimited resources or ‘proto-types’ of experimental hardware/software. They’re in the shit, and no one wants to cover that.

And real depressives know that. We know how much of a downer we can be. But I don’t think it does anyone any good by holding up the exceptions as examples to us all. Frankly, it just makes me feel worse. It’s like the world is saying ‘look at this person; why can’t you be more like them?’. Because. Just because. If you don’t get that, you’re just being a twat.

Ugh. One other thing as the tv blares ad after ad at me. I’d give a LOT to see a couple of new ads. I’d like to see a boy play with Barbie dolls and a girl play with action figures. Just once. Aren’t we at that point yet? No. Apparently not. All I hear is ‘you can be anything’ (tag line of the Barbie ads), indicating that girls can be whatever they want – as long as they’re thin, blond, and look like Barbie.

And why isn’t there a pregnant Barbie? Just asking. Seems like that should be in production, doesn’t it? Instead, we get mermaid Barbie. That changes colours in water. For fuck’s sake!

You can be anything. My ass you can.

How can we ever reach true gender equality when the crap we feed our children on continues to reinforce gender stereotypes? Am I the only one angry about this?

… A bit of tidying today, a quick shower (not doing my hair!) tomorrow morning, and that’s it. M is coming to see me, not pass judgement on how clean or dirty my home is. In other words, tidy up but don’t worry too much about it. She won’t care. I am planning on a huge bear hug and may not let her go anytime soon. I love this girl: she is one of the most positive, wonderful people I’ve ever had the occasion to meet. Most of all, she doesn’t see the age difference between us. We’re just friends. None of that awkward silence stuff; we’ve too much in common and too much to talk about. That’s a wonderful, wonderful thing.

I treasure it.

I’ve at least learned to do that

The appointment is made. February 3, come what may. Taking the rest of the day off because that’s enough stress for one 24 hour period.

Took the bike out for a spin yesterday. Seemed no matter what direction I turned, the wind was in my face. A bit stunned how such a light feeling breeze can hold me back on that bike, but it’s true. I can feel the extra push. Didn’t stay out as long or go as far because of it. Came back with wobbly legs, so I did my part.

…My body is dealing with the stress of everything, tho I’ve pushed it so far into my head I’m not registering it. But my tummy’s been upset and every once in a while I break out in a cold sweat, like I’m going thru a panic attack. Kind of like registering pain: I push it so far away that people are amazed I’m not screaming in agony. Seriously. The dentist was gobsmacked that I said I really wasn’t in pain. But that’s me. So much pain in my past that it really has to hurt to even get on my scale. Taking paracetamol on a regular basis, knowing that it’s meant to ease discomfort and relieve irritation. Brushing regularly, like a prayer: See? I’ll take care of my teeth! Please don’t hurt me again.

Fu-u-uck.

Made up my mind, too. I’m walking into that appointment and gonna be fully straight with the doc: If you hurt me, I’m screaming. I’ve experience enough pain from this area. Got it? You may want to put me under a general. Or give me the superstar drugs. Just. don’t. hurt me.

…As for the world… Can we just be honest for once? I’ve been inundated with stories about child sexual abuse. How it’s been tolerated and ignored. Can we just tell the truth? There’s a certain percentage of humans that think paedophilia is okay. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be so many stories of cover ups. Of ignoring the pleas of abused kids. I mean… I saw a story about a 70s French author who was famous for publishing books about his having sex with under age boys and girls. Once and once only was he confronted during his heyday for being an abuser of children. By only one woman on a panel, who was then crucified for her statements. Everyone else just chuckled at the comment because he was such a charming older man. Every single one of those panel members and journalists that hounded the single woman who spoke up supported an environment of sexual child abuse. Where are these people now? Why are we not holding these assholes to account?

And while we’re on honestly, let’s talk about the environment. There’s an awful lot of  ‘we have to do something before the point of no return’. Um…We reached that point of no return on the environment years ago. Decades ago, actually. And why? Because once again, humanity cannot be honest even with itself. Dollars were put ahead of children and grandchildren. Ahead of the whole human race. And it’s still going on. I feel bad for the youth who are gonna have to face it. THIS is why I never had kids; I wasn’t gonna bring someone into a world I knew was already going down. And I was ridiculed, put down, dismissed, and shunted aside for saying what I said.

Frankly, if you’re under 30, I think you should start killing everyone older than you right now. I’ll opt for an easy overdose, thanks. But you go right ahead and massacre all the old fucks who killed the world and made you live through it. I won’t blame any of you for it.

What I will hold you responsible for is indiscriminate ageism, particularly when it comes to women. Saw a film last night, The Boy Scout’s Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse. It was hella-funny, no doubt. But I’ve gotta gripe. The great Cloris Leachman was in it, playing a neighbor. She stopped the main guys on the street to complain about the kid’s dad leaving his bins in her driveway, mentioning at the time that she had a herniated disk and it hurt her a lot to move them. After she left, the boys called her an old hag. Even my bro said she was an old witch. WHY? If she really had a herniated disk, you BETTER BELIEVE it hurt her to do anything. It was a legitimate complaint. But because she was (a) old and (b) a woman, she became an old hag, a witch, a bitch for saying anything. On the flip side, as I tried to get off the metro today after making my appointment, an old woman with a walker did her best to cut me off and make everyone wait for her to cut cross-wise across the foot traffic. Now, THAT’S an old witch, a bitch, a hag. There was zero reason for her actions, other than to be a bitch and get in everyone’s way. My point is: make sure you get things right. Just because an older woman has a legit complaint, it doesn’t make her a hag or an old witch. People who are purposefully assholes can get named that, no problem. Just make sure you call out an equal number of men as women, and don’t be subtle on your condemnation of the men (’cause you sure aren’t subtle in your condemnation of the women).

In fact, suggested old man put down: shrivelled penis. Or lady tits. Or balding knob.

I can keep ’em coming.

Today: sit. Do my best to ease the anxiety I know is in my body. If I’m too angry, I know how to channel it: write. Same with fear.

I’ve at least learned to do that.

Ready to fight

WARNING: UNCONTROLLED RAGE AHEAD.

Let’s get into it, shall we?

There is only ONE marginalized group on this planet that can lay claim to more members than their persecutors: women. Women make up 51% of the population. Not that you’d know that. Our attention is constantly being shifted to look at the color of skin, or the method of prayer, as the reason for persecution. But let me say this clearly: there’s only one thing you need to do to be persecuted on this planet, and that’s being born female. Full stop.

I’m sick and tired of hearing men get up and moan about being marginalized. I’m sick and tired of every concern women bring up getting shunted aside because it doesn’t matter if it happens to a woman. I’m sick and tired of this divisive behavior, that turns women against women.

Men, men, men. Anchors on tv, the people they want to interview, world leaders, experts: all men.

It is time for women to begin tearing the throats out of certain men. Don’t shame them, don’t yell at them, don’t try logic on them. Kill them. Full out. This is WAR, ladies. Always has been. Never kid yourself otherwise. That male whom you think will stick by your side will turn on you in a SECOND. All it takes is one too many drinks, a little bit of drugs, not jerking off this last week, or any allegation – true or simply hinted at – that throws men into the light they SHOULD be under.

We are slaves to men. We tell ourselves we are being sensitive to the male ego. In truth, we are sheltering their behavior. We are allowing it to continue. And we do ourselves no favors by losing our cool and shouting at them.

Isn’t it obvious? Since the first caveman picked up a stick to hit his female companion into submission, we’ve been under their thumbs. We “allow” them to win arguments so we don’t rock the boat. We assure them that yes, they are the best. Best husbands, lovers, providers – meanwhile, their language to us often centers on negativity.

This morning I almost want to get sent back to the US. Hip, hip – I’ve got a plan. Buy a gun, maybe several. Load up on ammo. Pick my target(s). Kill. It’s time these fuckers realize women are serious about equality. We’ve asked them, begged them, sought justice among their halls of the unjust run and ruled by their sex. Laws have been passed and ignored. Rape is, as it always has been, commonplace. Yeah, you heard me. Commonplace. If you haven’t been raped, you’re in the minority. Still, not much has changed.

Listen to me, sisters. This is serious shit. It’s gone on for thousands of years. It is the most base, the FIRST manner in which humanity discriminated against each other. Not race, not religion, not language, but SEX.

And why? Well, fear, of course.

This group of people who bled every month but didn’t die. This group of people who could create life out of nothing and give birth to it. Men. fear. women. Always. To early man, women were magical. Unique. Awe-inspiring.

Now, we are cunts and broads and chicks. We are whores and sluts. We can’t be trusted, because our hormones make us unbalanced. We are gold diggers and manipulators.

Thousands of years of this behavior and language. Thousands.

I’m so fucking angry!! How can you not be?

Men are a scourge on this planet. Their ego concerns over their dick size makes THEM unbalanced, but in typical (and yet oh so effective) psychological warfare, they’ve projected that trait on women. They’ve brought up generations of females brainwashed to believe that if you wear a short skirt you’re asking to be raped. They’ve hit us, raped us, killed us, silenced us, shamed us. We have sought and never received justice at their hands.

Fifty-one percent. My head just can’t wrap itself around that. We’re the majority, but due to the seeds of ignorance and male domination sowed into us from before birth, we bow down under the yoke. We take it. We feel lucky if we have a man in our lives. We tell ourselves this is the way it has to be because it’s the only way we know.

I don’t know how to shake you out of your complacency. I wish I did. I wish I had the words that would trigger that revolution. Someday, maybe…

But I know how it goes; I’ll do the same thing. I stop short of driving my point home with my brother because of the rift it causes. It happened this morning. I had to stop when I bitched about him cutting me off mid-sentence (a scant 3 seconds earlier) and he denied cutting me off. Sound familiar, anyone? This sort of behavior has been profiled by many studies. Men interrupt women. All the fucking time. Then they deny interrupting us, and tell us we must be having our periods or a hot flash because our claims are just nonsense. And what do we do? I usually go silent because it’s at that point I realize I can’t get anything across to this person. They’ve shut down completely. In a way, they win. And we molly-coddle them by not pushing it.

But, then, there’s also the argument of just keeping your sanity. It’s far better to back away from an un-winnable situation than to bang your head against a wall. And we each have to deal with the day to day. Women are masters at compromise. We are the ultimate pragmatists; we do it every minute of every day.

…But this shit has GOT to stop. And to stop it, we’ve got to band together like never before. We cannot scream or cry our way through this. We must stand, as one. Dignified.

And ready to fight.

Off Time

Strange to live in a country that celebrates its own holidays. Yesterday was King’s Day – the celebration of the King’s b-day and a general piss up for the public. Had to keep reminding myself it was just another Thursday for the rest of the world.

Tersely answered my long-term FB cyber pal after another prompting message from him. I just said I’d been ill – which, between my hearing and back problems is pretty much the truth. It’s not the whole truth of why I haven’t written back to him. I still haven’t grown up enough to deal with his voting for 45 as anything other than a betrayal to everything decent in the world. I may never be that grown up.

While on FB, I noticed a comment from someone I used to know. Someone who was a real bitch to me. And she says “so how are you doing?” like she never froze me out, tossed away our friendship, or turned the female members of the town against me. Ignore. Again.

Why do people think that time and silence will make me forget what assholes they’ve been?

Saw the US courts have made it legal to pay women less than men. BRAVO, you fucking bastards.

You can all suck my balls.

I really think I’m beginning to hate men. All men. If they have a dick, they are a dick.

In fact, I think I should run for public office on the platform that the vast majority of rapes are committed by men, so in order to curb this violent aspect of society, every man’s penis should be cut off by the age of 12. Chop, chop. Problem solved. I think that’s as clear cut and well thought through as some of the shit I’ve heard from politicians lately.

Let’s see how all those 45 voting men feel about THAT platform. Oh! You’re upset? Why? I’m not talking about you. I still care about you. Don’t you get that?

How’s it fucking feel, assholes?

Need a good session at the gym to burn out all this anger. Don’t know that my back is up to it yet. Been walking more, and longer – but a gym session? Do not want to send my back into spasms from overuse.

Reminding myself of positives. It’s preventing me from screaming at the top of my lungs.

That, and a J.

Wanted to give myself some down time before hopping on the next writing assignment, but I’m beginning to wonder if that’s smart. Maybe I should just dive in. Forget about the world for a while. Fuck you, go away, I’m busy.

Trying to stay away from that headspace ’til post script read through. Walking into a reading with my writer’s cap on is NOT the way to have a pleasant evening. It’s a way to pick people apart, stare for minutes on end, smile, make notes, and put people on the spot. That’s not my goal.

…Ugh. The drag of off time.

 

You Bet Your Burqa

This is a woman, with loves and hates, opinions and thoughts. See her.

Been wondering if I have enough hate stirred up to write a post. How silly! Of course I have enough hate stirred up. I’m awake, aren’t I?

Current target: all this ongoing bullshit about burqas and burkinis. Or let me state this a bit clearer: all this ongoing bullshit about what women wear. Because that’s what we’re really talking about, isn’t it? One more chance to weigh in one what’s appropriate for women to wear or not wear.

Get your fucking opinions off my body.

Why aren’t we focusing on the men who rape? The men who hate? The men who bully, who blow shit up, who lie and cheat and threaten? Why are we talking about what a small group of women choose to wear?

Sounds like a fucking attempt to shame us once more.

Let me make myself very clear: in today’s climate, I do not think anyone should be able to fully cover their face up 100% of the time in 100% of public places. No way! But why are we outlawing women’s outfits? Why are we focusing entirely on women? Why?

The Netherlands introduced a law about covering up your face. These days, if you’re asked to show your face, you’ve got to. I’m okay with that. I understand people of devote Muslim faith may have an issue with it – but can’t we accommodate those few? Are you telling me it’s really so much of a pain in the ass to provide female officers who could take the burqa-clad woman in question into a private room so she’d remove her veil? I mean, we do it for strip searches (or should; I know plenty of places in the states where women are regularly assaulted by men under the guise of ‘strip searches’ – it’s illegal, ladies).

If anyone’s created the climate of hate towards the Muslim religion’s poster children (and that’s women in full burqas), it’s the media. Why do I continually see pix of fully clad women? I’m living in one of the most integrated cities in Europe and let me tell you, I don’t even think I’ve seen one. I’m sure there are a few out there, but there sure as fuck aren’t as many as the goddamn media will have you believe.

Once more, it’s all women’s fault. Why not just brand us with a big ‘W’? Make us wear stars on our sleeves. You already treat us like second class citizens. You already cut our pay in comparison to our male counterparts. You already tell us we’re wrong if we choose to stay at home and raise children because modern women work for a living, but we’re equally wrong if we go out and get a career because then we’re neglecting our children. And don’t even get me started on women who don’t reproduce. We’re just taking up space.

I am so right there with Trey and South Park when Butters said women are pissed off, ready to lock all the men away in a basement, and milk them for semen.

You bet your burqa.

Day 2: 3 Day Quote Challenge

Cheers to socialworkerangela from iammyownisland.wordpress.com for nominating me. Anyone willing to step up to the challenge is most welcome to do so!

For day 2, let’s talk about sexism. I received this in my email the other day:

It was sent to me by my uncle, who probably thought this was complimentary towards women. Can you spot the sexism in the text? No? Let’s see what this says about women. We make babies. We make ‘homes’. We make meals. We love easily. All sexist concepts. Not all women fit this description, and of course the kicker line is just that put-down hidden behind a joke that’s been done to us for ages.

Let’s move on, shall we? How about this gem: “Straight men just can’t imagine the bliss of being in a relationship with someone who finds farting as funny as they do.” – Graham Norton. Whoa! I expected a bit more from that effeminate icon. But, no. Women are women and seemingly deserve putting down, regardless if it comes from hetero- or homosexual men. For the record, I laugh my ass off at a good fart.
Do we need more? Sexist quotes are easy to find:

“While physics and mathematics may tell us how the universe began, they are not much use in predicting human behavior because there are far too many equations to solve. I’m no better than anyone else at understanding what makes people tick, particularly women.” – Stephen Hawking

“Relationships are made of talk – and talk is for girls and women.”- Deborah Tannen

“Were there no women, men might live like gods.” – Thomas Dekker

“Women are frightening. If you get to 41 as a man, you’re quite battle-scarred.” – Hugh Grant

“Ah, women. They make the highs higher and the lows more frequent.”- Friedrich Nietzsche

“Any time women come together with a collective intention, it’s a powerful thing. Whether it’s sitting down making a quilt, in a kitchen preparing a meal, in a club reading the same book, or around the table playing cards, or planning a birthday party, when women come together with a collective intention, magic happens.”- Phylicia Rashad

“Nature makes woman to be won and men to win.”- George William Curtis

“No doubt exists that all women are crazy; it’s only a question of degree.”- W. C. Fields

“Women will never be as successful as men because they have no wives to advise them.”- Dick Van Dyke

“Emancipation of women has made them lose their mystery.”- Grace Kelly

“Clever and attractive women do not want to vote; they are willing to let men govern as long as they govern men.”- George Bernard Shaw

All of that from a simple search on ‘sexist quotes’, and only 2 pages out of 43 on one site. Some of the people quoted above are well known sexists. Others are, as you may have noticed, women themselves – something I find terribly disturbing. We are lumping ourselves into these boxes, saying all of us are this or that. Simply because I have the physical capacity to bear a child does NOT mean I want a child, nor does it mean if I did have a child that I would suddenly become a ‘motherly’ type of person – a scenario that is, sadly, often portrayed in films. And why do we even say ‘motherly’? Shouldn’t it be some parental instinct present in BOTH sexes? But no. Put a baby into a woman’s arms and we’re all supposed to go gooey and begin that baby talk. That view of women IS sexist.

Sick. Not in the cool sense of the word. In the original sense: unwell, diseased. Sick.

The sickest thing is the blindness of people to this subtle sexism. And the reaction that if any protest is lodged, well, you’ve got to be some man-hating neo nazi feminist. After all, they and the dykes are the only people who really have a problem with this, right? The ugly women, in other words. The ones that can’t catch a husband. You know all the phrases; I’ve heard them ad-infinitum for the past 50 years.

I’ve got a real problem with this, and I’ve never been called ‘ugly’. I’m not a dyke. Nor a neo-nazi. Those are YOUR labels.

And I’m not against a good joke. I like to laugh. What I’m against is this MOUNTAIN of ‘jokes’ against women. This tsunami of narrow thought. This pervasive idea that women are a side salad in life, draped over a car and taken at a man’s whim.

Men, is that REALLY what you think of you mothers? Because there’s no real difference between your mommy and the woman you encourage to dress provocatively and gyrate all over the hood of your vehicle. That’s your mother dry humping the car. Your mom showing her tits off and spreading her legs. Your mom being a bimbo, your mom being raped, your mom getting backhanded across the face.

Women do not become sainted after giving birth. You’d rarely know that from men, though. How often do we hear in real life and in film, ‘don’t say anything about my mother’ as a point of argument? Men somehow think their mommies are the virgin Mary, pure as the driven snow. Mothers never flashed their v’s or fucked in a back alley. That’s what whores do. Right back to that virgin/whore thing again. Why? Because it’s so deep in our society and culture you can barely extract yourself from it.

Sick.

When you counter a woman’s argument by telling her something about her looks, you’re being sexist. When you fail to listen to a human being because they have tits, you’re being sexist. When you lump all women into any category, you’re being sexist.

This isn’t a hard concept to understand, is it? I’m not using too many big words, am I?

The only mystery a woman has is the innate silence of thousands of years of holding our tongues when you put us down. The only reason that ‘women are from venus and men are from mars’ is that this simple concept isn’t understood. That look we give you…Want to know what it is?

We’re thinking what dickheads you all are. We just don’t say it.