I am going to my twenty year college reunion this weekend.
TWENTY.
As in, TWENTY YEARS AGO I GRADUATED FROM COLLEGE.
Which would mean that I started college TWENTY FOUR years ago.
How did that happen? I don't feel that much older. I'm sure I don't LOOK that much older. My hair is still red*. I have no wrinkles**. I may have gained a little weight***, sure, but hasn't everyone?****
Fine, I probably look every day of my 42 years, but since I am an artist who lives in Granolaville, I don't even think about that most of the time. If I want to feel pretty, I just go to Walmart***** for twenty minutes.
But I honestly don't feel that much different than I did the day I graduated, or even the day my parents dropped me off at the Vassar farm and I realized I was alone in a state where I literally did not know one single person. I was a clueless 18-22 year old with very little idea of what I wanted out of life, and I spent the next five or six years going to school for a degree I finally realized I did not want. So I spent another year in school to get a degree in library science. With my MLS, I partially supported myself for the next decade and a half. Unless you are married, independently wealthy, or enjoy living in a wigwam made of empty packing crates, there is no way to support yourself on a public librarian's salary. But the nice thing about being a public librarian is that the whole time you are thinking about applying for food stamps, you can keep telling yourself "But My Job Is Important. I Am Helping People. I Am Making A Contribution To Society".
I was able to be a librarian Contributing To Society mainly because my parents were contributing to my bank account.
Being a librarian was possibly the only time in my life since I was 17 that I viewed the future without ongoing nameless dread. I hated college at first. I was homesick, I missed my family, my friends, and most of all my boyfriend. Eventually I settled in and by my sophomore year I loved it, had friends, was involved in activities, and was sorry when winter and summer breaks interrupted my life. Junior year was more of the same, but by senior year I realized, "Hey. This ENDS."
I had no idea what to do next. Hence, the misguided grad school years, and falling into my library career mostly by accident.
Now, packing for my 20 year reunion, I still don't know what to do next. I thought I'd have accomplished a lot more by now. I definitely did not think I would be living in my parents' basement without any appreciable income, single, childless, and somewhat crazy. My classmates all seem way more advanced in Life than me, but then, on some level, they always did. The whole time I was at Vassar I kept looking around me thinking "Who are these beautiful, self assured people? Has there been some kind of mistake? Why am I here? Did the admissions committee just need someone from the Midwest for this class?"
You'd think that someone who felt that way then, and still feels a lot like that now, wouldn't even bother to go to a reunion. And believe me, I've agonized about it plenty. Part of me is dreading it. But that's why I feel like I have to go. If I don't do, aren't I just admitting that I never did fit in at Vassar, and it was all a big mistake that ruined my life?
I do not believe "Things happen for a reason", in fact, I think that's one of the most offensive statements ever invented, and mostly amounts to blaming the victim.^* So I don't think that I Went To Vassar For a Reason, because if so, that reason might just as well have been to destroy any thoughts of a musical career and ruin my self confidence almost beyond repair as anything. And when people say that things happen for a reason, they usually don't mean something icky as the end point. They mean that something bad happens to clear the way for something good....well. Maybe it just hasn't happened yet, but I still think this concept is bullshit.
But I do feel the need to reconnect with my alma mater at least one last time, and see if I can figure out exactly how it fits....or doesn't.... into the rest of my life. After I lost my job and realized I'd have to sell my house and move home, I re-evaluated my life as harshly as possible, and I did not like most of what I found. It scared me to realize that most of my failures could possibly be traced back to Vassar. Such as quitting the cello, because of an asshole music professor with an inferiority complex. And quitting acting, because I wasn't pretty enough to be taken seriously. And never taking a studio art class, because the artsy things that interested me were sneered at as crafts. Giving up on singing, when I'd always wanted to be in an acapella group, because I had one bad audition and never tried out again. Never taking a writing class, because I was too scared.
College is supposed to be a time to expand your horizons, but I felt so insecure at Vassar that that the main expanding I experienced was that of my waistline. Which only made everything worse, since I now felt out of place, untalented, AND ugly. And, after years of being one of the top students in the class, suddenly I was near the middle at best. I'd never felt stupid before. I'd never written a paper longer than three or four pages, and had it not been for taking classes at I.U. my last semester of high school, I think the academic work load alone would have sent me home.
What I did do was develop a political consciousness, and I spent most of my time on some form of political activism, which I don't consider a complete waste.....except, I'm not sure if it's done anything except make me an angrier person. I did make wonderful friends who I treasure. But I wasn't much of a friend to myself during college. So I guess I'm going back to see if I can figure out what made me stop liking myself, and if its too late to start again.
*As red as the first time I dyed it...actually, probably redder now. Seeing as I used to put the color over dark brown hair instead of white.
**I highly recommend extremely oily skin and being fat if you want fewer wrinkles with no botox. Works like a fucking charm.
***Hey, at least I don't have wrinkles, haters.
****At least those of us who can't afford lipsuction, personal trainers, or surrogates to bear our three or four sets of twins
*****No, I don't buy anything. Not only do I hate Walmart and think they are the devil, I also don't have any money.
^* Yes, I do have a standard, full blown rant on this topic. Please contact me if you need the full version. Especially if you feel like getting smacked.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Why no, I don't agree to disagree.
Unless you live under a rock, or in a country that treats humans like humans even if they aren't billionaires*, you might have noticed that political sentiments are running high these days. Personally, I think this is a good thing, but then again, I've lived my entire life like this pretty much since before I understood what politics were.
When I got to college, I realized that all of my opinions weren't just called opinions, they were actually part of larger cloud called Politics. And by Politics, I don't mean, things involving government or at least, not just those things. At Vassar, in the late 80s and early 90s, your politics were much more than democrat or republican. Were you a capitalist or a socialist or maybe a Marxist? What about feminism? Moderate, militant, or separatist? Gay rights? What about bisexuality: just a stage or not? What about animal rights? Environmentalism: were you species-ist? "Politics" wasn't limited to how you voted; your politics were how you viewed the world.
In other words, as we learned over and over again, The Personal Is Political. Your politics and your self are not two separate entities. You are your politics, because they are your personal philosophy and way of connecting to the world.
It amazes me that in this day and age, I still have to explain this concept to people. Although, usually the people who don't understand this have never had to understand it. Politics become personal very quickly when, say, you have to sit at the back of a bus. Or you can't marry the person you love. Or when you need a medical procedure and can't get it because a group of zealots have chained themselves together in front of a clinic.
As most young people do, I assumed my college experience was fairly typical. Of course, it wasn't then, and it certainly isn't now. I think the one thing all Vassar grads agree on, especially as we get farther from it, is how atypical our education was. There are people who graduated from college around the same time I did, who even went to small liberal arts school, who hardly gave politics a thought. And since I graduated in 1991, young people seem to have moved farther and farther from politics as student activity. I've lived in college towns all of my life except for when I was actually in college, and the activism seems to be almost non-existent. Which, if it isn't needed, is great. Although I'm not sure that's the case.
I fell out of my strident political activism sometime after the mid 90s, when I finished grad school. I got a "real" job and played at being a grown up for a decade or so. I thought it was time for the next generation to take up the banners for a while.....but apparently they didn't. I was shocked when I started reading "feminist" magazines again a few years ago and discovered that in the 21st century, the main issues twentysomething feminists talked about had to do with the politics of bikini waxing and knitting in public. No more Take Back the Night marches, apparently.
Maybe part of the reason politics were so important at Vassar at the end of the 20th century was because, after years of being the most liberal of all the Eastern schools except for maybe Brown**, Bennington***, and Sarah Lawrence****, we were inundated with a a new breed of students. These were people who apparently couldn't make it into their first, second, or even fifth choice schools. By which I mean, schools where you could be rich, mean, loud, conservative and fit in seamlessly. At Vassar, you could definitely be mean and rich, and you could even be Republican and mean and rich. But combine all of the above, and you stood out so much that your only hope was to create your own clique so you could have some friends.
You think I'm joking? Do the names Richard Miniter or Marc Thiessen ring a bell? No? What about Liz Murdoch? Her dad's first name is Rupert, by the way.
I cut my political teeth at Vassar, and it should be no surprise that then, as now, I was on the opposite side of the barricades as my wealthier, more infamous classmates. While Rich and Marc wrote for The Vassar Spectator, a newspaper funded by Liz's pop, my friends and I wrote for and published a feminist newspaper called Womanspeak. We didn't have any billionaire dads helping us out, so our little rag wasn't as slick as the Spec. What we lacked in funding and layout programs, we made up for with intelligence, good writing, and sheer obnoxiousness....and for our trouble, got smacked down in many a Spectator editorial. It might have been all in good fun, except, those people have been and still are shaping the political discourse of the far right.
So maybe I've had a little longer to think all this through than everyone else, because I came up against their hateful rhetoric earlier than most. We were college kids back then, and we were all, quite honestly, kind of assholes. The difference is, the members of Womanspeak aren't feeding the right wing monster that's destroying our country.
Which brings me, at long and tortured last, to my point.
So often, I hear liberals/progressives***** say things like "Oh, well, we can agree to disagree!" or "Let's just not talk about politics!" or something like "No matter what you believe, I'll always love you!"
And I honestly want to smack those people.
Not the Teapublicans. No. Their need for smacking should, at this point, no longer even need saying. The Republican party has made it very clear that they hate gays, that they wish to restrict not only access to abortion but to health care for women in general, that no one but the wealthy deserves to have health care anyway and now, with their blatant union-busting, they've made it all too clear that in this America, working for a living means that you should scramble for the few crumbs the corporations are willing to toss your way, and you should be delighted and eternally grateful for the privilege.******
No, the people I'm annoyed with in this instance are the supposed liberals, or should I say, progressives.
Side note:
I've noticed that those of us who still use the word "liberal" tend to be a lot less apologetic about our politics. Maybe that's because we're old or something; I don't know. Maybe it's because we just think "progressive" has too many s's. Maybe it's because "progressive" doesn't always mean "progress" in a good way, it can also just mean going forward in time, without any real benefit. Like a cancer that progresses, because it is growing, but that isn't a positive kind of growth.
End of side note
Whatever word you use, I'm just plain, flat out tired of always being expected to act as though ALL points of view are equally valid. Because, newsflash: THEY ARE NOT.
I know. I have just broken an essential rule of liberalism, which is to always respect other points of view. But, guess what. If you're a bigot, and hateful, and spend most of your time trying to keep other people down, then I reserve the right to tell you to fuck off, no explanation needed, and NO APOLOGY.
I'm done with other liberals making me feel like I'm somehow not liberal enough because I don't want to play nice.
Why the hell SHOULD I play nice with people who would like nothing better than to see me and most of my friends even worse off than we already are?? And in the name of all that is decent and right, why the hell would I want to be FRIENDS with people who believe the things I enumerated above? There are lots of things you can agree to disagree about: Sports teams. White after Labor Day. Spit or swallow. Beatles or Rolling Stones. Toilet paper over or under. Beets as a food.
But why in the world would you want to be friends with people who disagree with you about basic tenets of life? Why would I want to be friends with people who think poor people don't deserve to have health care? Who hate gay people? Who think Glenn Beck has anything worth saying to anyone, anywhere??? What possible redeeming quality could someone like that honestly have that I would want near me by choice?
I understand that you don't get to choose your family. But, you CAN decide how much contact you have with your family. Because, you see, I also know plenty of people disowned by their own families. So, because their families didn't agree with them, in this case usually their sexual orientation, they were unchosen by their families. Because it is more important to please an imaginary man in the sky than, you know, love your own son.
And you don't get to choose who you work around. I am all too aware of working in close quarters with fucking crazy ass republican fundamentalists. Even I tried to keep my mouth shut, but in my case, I would have had to remove my entire head for that to help.
But all of that is different than having friends you choose.
Now, I hear lots of you saying "But...but...but". Let's look at your butts. I mean, your buts.
BUT
".....what about learning from each other?"
"...what about reaching across the aisle?"
"....what about working together?"
Really? Do you see Republicans as being willing to do any of these things?? Ever? This is a party built upon lies. This is a party filled with hate, and which sees nothing wrong with discounting enormous groups of people based on nothing except bigotry. Why would you WANT to learn from them?
And, again, if there are people who still call themselves Republicans when by doing so they throw themselves in with the worst of their kind, yet who don't necessarily agree with some of the most radical views, well, in the words of Martin Luther King Jr:
He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.
So, lets look at those "buts" again, and see where you can agree to disagree:
BUT:
"What about my jogging partner, Susie, who thinks all fat people are stupid and lazy? Can't we agree to disagree, even though my best friend is overweight and I know she's not lazy or stupid?"
"What about my friends I have coffee with on Tuesdays who all talk about how Jews control the media? Can't we agree to disagree about that, even though I think anti-semitism is wrong and horrible?"
"What about my neighbor's friend who is running for office on a union busting platform? Surely we can agree to disagree on this, even though I belong to a union and without it, I'll lose all the money I've paid into my pension?"
"What about my friend Joe, who thinks gay people should be sent to camps? Can't we agree to disagree on this, even though I have a gay son I adore and support?"
"I know WalMart is responsible for the destruction of the mom and pop grocery store, like the one that my family friends ran for 40 years until WalMart came to town. Can't we agree to disagree, and they won't be angry with me for shopping there now that they're homeless and live in a van?"
"What about Aunt FooFoo, who works for Operation Rescue? Can't we agree to disagree, even though I would have died if I hadn't been able to have a mammogram at Planned Parenthood?"
If you are one of those people who can, somehow, agree to disagree, well, good for you. Know that I am not one of you, and I never will be.
And I'm fine with that.
*Hint:not this one.
**lots of drugs,but still an Ivy
***very, very rich; student body mostly expelled from everywhere else because of drugs
****close enough to Manhattan to get really serious drugs; also,too small to matter
*****whatever term we're trying to use to not upset conservatives too much these days
******Oh, and just in case you want to have one of those "discussions" where you tell me that I shouldn't paint all Republicans with the same brush, because it isn't fairrrrrrr because they arrrrennnn'tttt ALLLLLL like that, and how maybe I don't know that because I'm a complete idiot who needs to have things explained to her in words of two or fewer syllables, well, just don't. Because I guarantee you, I've had that conversation with other people AND myself about seventeen million times. Starting about 20 years ago. And I've probably thought about it in way more detail than you have, because I'm totally comfortable with it, and you're still trying to "discuss" it. When a party has become so crazily far to the right, if you stay a part of it, well, you ARE tarred with their brush, and you deserve to be. If you aren't part of the solution, people, you most certainly are part of this problem.
I can go on about this. At great, unwanted, frighteningly mind numbing length. Way, way longer than this, and I can tell you're already annoyed. Believe me. This is nothing. Stop now, while you have a chance to escape.
When I got to college, I realized that all of my opinions weren't just called opinions, they were actually part of larger cloud called Politics. And by Politics, I don't mean, things involving government or at least, not just those things. At Vassar, in the late 80s and early 90s, your politics were much more than democrat or republican. Were you a capitalist or a socialist or maybe a Marxist? What about feminism? Moderate, militant, or separatist? Gay rights? What about bisexuality: just a stage or not? What about animal rights? Environmentalism: were you species-ist? "Politics" wasn't limited to how you voted; your politics were how you viewed the world.
In other words, as we learned over and over again, The Personal Is Political. Your politics and your self are not two separate entities. You are your politics, because they are your personal philosophy and way of connecting to the world.
It amazes me that in this day and age, I still have to explain this concept to people. Although, usually the people who don't understand this have never had to understand it. Politics become personal very quickly when, say, you have to sit at the back of a bus. Or you can't marry the person you love. Or when you need a medical procedure and can't get it because a group of zealots have chained themselves together in front of a clinic.
As most young people do, I assumed my college experience was fairly typical. Of course, it wasn't then, and it certainly isn't now. I think the one thing all Vassar grads agree on, especially as we get farther from it, is how atypical our education was. There are people who graduated from college around the same time I did, who even went to small liberal arts school, who hardly gave politics a thought. And since I graduated in 1991, young people seem to have moved farther and farther from politics as student activity. I've lived in college towns all of my life except for when I was actually in college, and the activism seems to be almost non-existent. Which, if it isn't needed, is great. Although I'm not sure that's the case.
I fell out of my strident political activism sometime after the mid 90s, when I finished grad school. I got a "real" job and played at being a grown up for a decade or so. I thought it was time for the next generation to take up the banners for a while.....but apparently they didn't. I was shocked when I started reading "feminist" magazines again a few years ago and discovered that in the 21st century, the main issues twentysomething feminists talked about had to do with the politics of bikini waxing and knitting in public. No more Take Back the Night marches, apparently.
Maybe part of the reason politics were so important at Vassar at the end of the 20th century was because, after years of being the most liberal of all the Eastern schools except for maybe Brown**, Bennington***, and Sarah Lawrence****, we were inundated with a a new breed of students. These were people who apparently couldn't make it into their first, second, or even fifth choice schools. By which I mean, schools where you could be rich, mean, loud, conservative and fit in seamlessly. At Vassar, you could definitely be mean and rich, and you could even be Republican and mean and rich. But combine all of the above, and you stood out so much that your only hope was to create your own clique so you could have some friends.
You think I'm joking? Do the names Richard Miniter or Marc Thiessen ring a bell? No? What about Liz Murdoch? Her dad's first name is Rupert, by the way.
I cut my political teeth at Vassar, and it should be no surprise that then, as now, I was on the opposite side of the barricades as my wealthier, more infamous classmates. While Rich and Marc wrote for The Vassar Spectator, a newspaper funded by Liz's pop, my friends and I wrote for and published a feminist newspaper called Womanspeak. We didn't have any billionaire dads helping us out, so our little rag wasn't as slick as the Spec. What we lacked in funding and layout programs, we made up for with intelligence, good writing, and sheer obnoxiousness....and for our trouble, got smacked down in many a Spectator editorial. It might have been all in good fun, except, those people have been and still are shaping the political discourse of the far right.
So maybe I've had a little longer to think all this through than everyone else, because I came up against their hateful rhetoric earlier than most. We were college kids back then, and we were all, quite honestly, kind of assholes. The difference is, the members of Womanspeak aren't feeding the right wing monster that's destroying our country.
Which brings me, at long and tortured last, to my point.
So often, I hear liberals/progressives***** say things like "Oh, well, we can agree to disagree!" or "Let's just not talk about politics!" or something like "No matter what you believe, I'll always love you!"
And I honestly want to smack those people.
Not the Teapublicans. No. Their need for smacking should, at this point, no longer even need saying. The Republican party has made it very clear that they hate gays, that they wish to restrict not only access to abortion but to health care for women in general, that no one but the wealthy deserves to have health care anyway and now, with their blatant union-busting, they've made it all too clear that in this America, working for a living means that you should scramble for the few crumbs the corporations are willing to toss your way, and you should be delighted and eternally grateful for the privilege.******
No, the people I'm annoyed with in this instance are the supposed liberals, or should I say, progressives.
Side note:
I've noticed that those of us who still use the word "liberal" tend to be a lot less apologetic about our politics. Maybe that's because we're old or something; I don't know. Maybe it's because we just think "progressive" has too many s's. Maybe it's because "progressive" doesn't always mean "progress" in a good way, it can also just mean going forward in time, without any real benefit. Like a cancer that progresses, because it is growing, but that isn't a positive kind of growth.
End of side note
Whatever word you use, I'm just plain, flat out tired of always being expected to act as though ALL points of view are equally valid. Because, newsflash: THEY ARE NOT.
I know. I have just broken an essential rule of liberalism, which is to always respect other points of view. But, guess what. If you're a bigot, and hateful, and spend most of your time trying to keep other people down, then I reserve the right to tell you to fuck off, no explanation needed, and NO APOLOGY.
I'm done with other liberals making me feel like I'm somehow not liberal enough because I don't want to play nice.
Why the hell SHOULD I play nice with people who would like nothing better than to see me and most of my friends even worse off than we already are?? And in the name of all that is decent and right, why the hell would I want to be FRIENDS with people who believe the things I enumerated above? There are lots of things you can agree to disagree about: Sports teams. White after Labor Day. Spit or swallow. Beatles or Rolling Stones. Toilet paper over or under. Beets as a food.
But why in the world would you want to be friends with people who disagree with you about basic tenets of life? Why would I want to be friends with people who think poor people don't deserve to have health care? Who hate gay people? Who think Glenn Beck has anything worth saying to anyone, anywhere??? What possible redeeming quality could someone like that honestly have that I would want near me by choice?
I understand that you don't get to choose your family. But, you CAN decide how much contact you have with your family. Because, you see, I also know plenty of people disowned by their own families. So, because their families didn't agree with them, in this case usually their sexual orientation, they were unchosen by their families. Because it is more important to please an imaginary man in the sky than, you know, love your own son.
And you don't get to choose who you work around. I am all too aware of working in close quarters with fucking crazy ass republican fundamentalists. Even I tried to keep my mouth shut, but in my case, I would have had to remove my entire head for that to help.
But all of that is different than having friends you choose.
Now, I hear lots of you saying "But...but...but". Let's look at your butts. I mean, your buts.
BUT
".....what about learning from each other?"
"...what about reaching across the aisle?"
"....what about working together?"
Really? Do you see Republicans as being willing to do any of these things?? Ever? This is a party built upon lies. This is a party filled with hate, and which sees nothing wrong with discounting enormous groups of people based on nothing except bigotry. Why would you WANT to learn from them?
And, again, if there are people who still call themselves Republicans when by doing so they throw themselves in with the worst of their kind, yet who don't necessarily agree with some of the most radical views, well, in the words of Martin Luther King Jr:
He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.
So, lets look at those "buts" again, and see where you can agree to disagree:
BUT:
"What about my jogging partner, Susie, who thinks all fat people are stupid and lazy? Can't we agree to disagree, even though my best friend is overweight and I know she's not lazy or stupid?"
"What about my friends I have coffee with on Tuesdays who all talk about how Jews control the media? Can't we agree to disagree about that, even though I think anti-semitism is wrong and horrible?"
"What about my neighbor's friend who is running for office on a union busting platform? Surely we can agree to disagree on this, even though I belong to a union and without it, I'll lose all the money I've paid into my pension?"
"What about my friend Joe, who thinks gay people should be sent to camps? Can't we agree to disagree on this, even though I have a gay son I adore and support?"
"I know WalMart is responsible for the destruction of the mom and pop grocery store, like the one that my family friends ran for 40 years until WalMart came to town. Can't we agree to disagree, and they won't be angry with me for shopping there now that they're homeless and live in a van?"
"What about Aunt FooFoo, who works for Operation Rescue? Can't we agree to disagree, even though I would have died if I hadn't been able to have a mammogram at Planned Parenthood?"
If you are one of those people who can, somehow, agree to disagree, well, good for you. Know that I am not one of you, and I never will be.
And I'm fine with that.
*Hint:not this one.
**lots of drugs,but still an Ivy
***very, very rich; student body mostly expelled from everywhere else because of drugs
****close enough to Manhattan to get really serious drugs; also,too small to matter
*****whatever term we're trying to use to not upset conservatives too much these days
******Oh, and just in case you want to have one of those "discussions" where you tell me that I shouldn't paint all Republicans with the same brush, because it isn't fairrrrrrr because they arrrrennnn'tttt ALLLLLL like that, and how maybe I don't know that because I'm a complete idiot who needs to have things explained to her in words of two or fewer syllables, well, just don't. Because I guarantee you, I've had that conversation with other people AND myself about seventeen million times. Starting about 20 years ago. And I've probably thought about it in way more detail than you have, because I'm totally comfortable with it, and you're still trying to "discuss" it. When a party has become so crazily far to the right, if you stay a part of it, well, you ARE tarred with their brush, and you deserve to be. If you aren't part of the solution, people, you most certainly are part of this problem.
I can go on about this. At great, unwanted, frighteningly mind numbing length. Way, way longer than this, and I can tell you're already annoyed. Believe me. This is nothing. Stop now, while you have a chance to escape.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Back from the dead; also, Social Pointers for Assholes
In the interest of trying to keep my dollmaking blog a little less profane and bitchy, I'm reviving this blog for its original purpose: venting here so that I do not kill people. I might do some of that at my other blog. And, I will still hate on Republicans openly both places, because that is necessary. Everyone should hate them everywhere, always. But sometimes, like today, I will need to vent about things like why people are such dicks at art shows, and sometimes customers/dealers/etc are all like "Please don't call people dicks" on your business blog. Whatever. Like dicks want to buy my shit anyway.
So, in honor of this Revival (I must need a thesaurus or whatever that thing is with all the words in it this morning since I can't think of another word), let me start things off with a bang with the following list of helpful hints:
How NOT to Behave at an Art Fair, Craft Show, or Mostly, Anywhere in Public
1. Do not assume that artists spend seventeen million hours on their work for the express purpose of giving your sticky, stinky toddler something to manhandle. Really. Most of us call what we do ART specifically as a hint for children to STAY AWAY.
2. Do not assume that your child is cute to anyone but you and possibly other blood relatives of the child. While I usually try not to give outward signs of revulsion and have even been known to coo a bit, I'm really there to sell stuff, not to congratulate you at length on performing biological functions. If doing so made you spend money, that would be one thing, but I have noticed that the more you wish to discuss your biological functions including but not limited to childbirth, lactation, and digestive processes, the more likely you are to think that dolls should be made of recycled sweatsocks, be childsafe to the point of digestability, and also be free to you just because you have achieved reproduction. I don't care. Go to an outsider "art" fair where people do care, and where you can find poorly made items of "upcycled" acrylic felt once used as bird cage lining.*
3. Even if you honestly DO believe than my items are overpriced, I'd much rather you tell me so openly rather than passive aggressively "tell" your friend in a really loud voice, just daring me to say something. Because now you've shown me that not only are you not a customer, and are ignorant, cheap and classless, but you've also tried to manipulate me. What do I gain from responding to you at all?? Nothing, except giving you license to create even more of a scene and alienate customers. What do you gain? Making me feel like crap? Looking like a boor? Go for it. Just get out of the way of the people standing in line to pay.
4. I am sure that you could make something "just like" any one of my items if you wanted to. Go home right now and do just that, because if that was really true, you would understand how rude, defensive, and sad you sound-- and you might have a booth here, too. But, you don't. And I am sure you couldn't make anything "just like" my dolls, since you're not me.
5. Please do not take photographs of my booth without asking. See how my things have pricetags on them?? With numbers?? That means these items are for SALE. I did not spend all my waking hours for months working on them so you could snap some pictures for your own purposes that don't benefit me at all. If you're a reporter, identify yourself as such, and I'd be delighted for you to shoot all day. If you're not, why are you taking photos? So you can try to reproduce something later? So you can own an image of my work without paying for it? This isn't a museum. I don't care what your personal interpretation of copyright is. If you want to look at one of my pieces every day, you can buy it. Please don't try to profit from my work without paying for the privilege.
6. If you have children who are not old enough to understand basic rules of, um, anything, please don't turn them loose to roam around by themselves or in packs. This is a public place. We're not here to watch them. Also, I'm not sure if you know this, but no one thinks they're cute/amazing/delightful but you, and maybe their grandparents. [Maybe not. How far away do they live? You might want to take that personally.] Also, and this might be earth shattering for you: Children Do Not Always Behave In The Way You Might Hope When They Are With Their Friends. I am a former child. I know this. Why don't you?? And frankly, I probably like kids more than most people, because they're honest, interesting, and often very funny. What I don't like is your assumption that your decision to become a parent is somehow anyone else's problem or responsibility. When your kid is walking around in tears because they can't find you, that does become my problem because in spite of evidence to the contrary, I'm not a complete heartless bitch. But,I'm here for a reason, and I can't leave my cashbox and booth unattended, and these are YOUR children! Wait, am I repeating myself here? Oh well. Judging from recent experience, I don't think I can restate this enough.
7. If you haven't been accepted to the show, please do not walk around it selling your art to people out of your backpack or off your arm. This recently happened at a local show. Aside from the fact that the show organizers have purposely selected vendors to appeal to their particular audience, those of us with booths? Have actually PAID to be here. And you didn't. So now, you're not only thumbing your nose at the show organizers, but you're taking away money from them and the vendors....and, you're just rude. And hopefully, now you'll never get in to ANY shows.
8. Please, even if there is no sign expressly saying so, do not eat or drink over my booth. The time to smear greasy kettle corn hands across a doll's face is once it becomes yours, not before. Because now no one else wants it. So you've just cost me the price of that doll. I don't come over to your office and wipe tomato sauce/snot/melted butter on your work. Why do you get to do it to mine?? Also, please don't set any drink, especially those consisting of milky, sugary, staining substances, down next to the art. I know you're very, very careful, but there are other people who might not be.
9. I am sure that your cell phone conversation is vital to your survival. But it is not vital to mine, and when you stand directly in front of my booth yelling at your husband about whether to get McDonald's or Taco Bell on the way home, you drive other customers away. Don't give me a filthy look when, after ten minutes, I ask you to politely move, and then yell "I'M ON THE PHONE HERE!" in my face. Yes. I see that. So does everyone else. That's the problem. Also, which McDonald's will you be patronizing? I want to call them and offer them a percentage of my day's profits if they'll spit in your drink.
10. Finally, most artists really do enjoy talking about our work. The thing is, we're trying to sell it today, and we only get to do that once in a while, not every day unless we're lucky enough to be in a gallery or have a shop--in which case, we'd probably not be here. Also, note the word "sell". So please do not become offended and huffy when I will not spend forty minutes out of the three or four hours I have here explaining my entire artistic process to you in hopes that you might spend $10, because it does say right on my business card that I am available to teach workshops, and because that's my business card, maybe you might realize that as part of my BUSINESS, I might wish to be PAID for my knowledge. I know that we all think everything should be free, especially if its on the interwebs, but actually, it isn't. Also, please don't ask me where I get all of my materials and how much I paid for them. Not only is that rude, but why am I going to tell you that? So you can go buy all the same stuff, use all my ideas, and become a direct competitor??
This list will be added to as needed.
*Might be slightly exaggerated. But not as much as one might hope.
So, in honor of this Revival (I must need a thesaurus or whatever that thing is with all the words in it this morning since I can't think of another word), let me start things off with a bang with the following list of helpful hints:
How NOT to Behave at an Art Fair, Craft Show, or Mostly, Anywhere in Public
1. Do not assume that artists spend seventeen million hours on their work for the express purpose of giving your sticky, stinky toddler something to manhandle. Really. Most of us call what we do ART specifically as a hint for children to STAY AWAY.
2. Do not assume that your child is cute to anyone but you and possibly other blood relatives of the child. While I usually try not to give outward signs of revulsion and have even been known to coo a bit, I'm really there to sell stuff, not to congratulate you at length on performing biological functions. If doing so made you spend money, that would be one thing, but I have noticed that the more you wish to discuss your biological functions including but not limited to childbirth, lactation, and digestive processes, the more likely you are to think that dolls should be made of recycled sweatsocks, be childsafe to the point of digestability, and also be free to you just because you have achieved reproduction. I don't care. Go to an outsider "art" fair where people do care, and where you can find poorly made items of "upcycled" acrylic felt once used as bird cage lining.*
3. Even if you honestly DO believe than my items are overpriced, I'd much rather you tell me so openly rather than passive aggressively "tell" your friend in a really loud voice, just daring me to say something. Because now you've shown me that not only are you not a customer, and are ignorant, cheap and classless, but you've also tried to manipulate me. What do I gain from responding to you at all?? Nothing, except giving you license to create even more of a scene and alienate customers. What do you gain? Making me feel like crap? Looking like a boor? Go for it. Just get out of the way of the people standing in line to pay.
4. I am sure that you could make something "just like" any one of my items if you wanted to. Go home right now and do just that, because if that was really true, you would understand how rude, defensive, and sad you sound-- and you might have a booth here, too. But, you don't. And I am sure you couldn't make anything "just like" my dolls, since you're not me.
5. Please do not take photographs of my booth without asking. See how my things have pricetags on them?? With numbers?? That means these items are for SALE. I did not spend all my waking hours for months working on them so you could snap some pictures for your own purposes that don't benefit me at all. If you're a reporter, identify yourself as such, and I'd be delighted for you to shoot all day. If you're not, why are you taking photos? So you can try to reproduce something later? So you can own an image of my work without paying for it? This isn't a museum. I don't care what your personal interpretation of copyright is. If you want to look at one of my pieces every day, you can buy it. Please don't try to profit from my work without paying for the privilege.
6. If you have children who are not old enough to understand basic rules of, um, anything, please don't turn them loose to roam around by themselves or in packs. This is a public place. We're not here to watch them. Also, I'm not sure if you know this, but no one thinks they're cute/amazing/delightful but you, and maybe their grandparents. [Maybe not. How far away do they live? You might want to take that personally.] Also, and this might be earth shattering for you: Children Do Not Always Behave In The Way You Might Hope When They Are With Their Friends. I am a former child. I know this. Why don't you?? And frankly, I probably like kids more than most people, because they're honest, interesting, and often very funny. What I don't like is your assumption that your decision to become a parent is somehow anyone else's problem or responsibility. When your kid is walking around in tears because they can't find you, that does become my problem because in spite of evidence to the contrary, I'm not a complete heartless bitch. But,I'm here for a reason, and I can't leave my cashbox and booth unattended, and these are YOUR children! Wait, am I repeating myself here? Oh well. Judging from recent experience, I don't think I can restate this enough.
7. If you haven't been accepted to the show, please do not walk around it selling your art to people out of your backpack or off your arm. This recently happened at a local show. Aside from the fact that the show organizers have purposely selected vendors to appeal to their particular audience, those of us with booths? Have actually PAID to be here. And you didn't. So now, you're not only thumbing your nose at the show organizers, but you're taking away money from them and the vendors....and, you're just rude. And hopefully, now you'll never get in to ANY shows.
8. Please, even if there is no sign expressly saying so, do not eat or drink over my booth. The time to smear greasy kettle corn hands across a doll's face is once it becomes yours, not before. Because now no one else wants it. So you've just cost me the price of that doll. I don't come over to your office and wipe tomato sauce/snot/melted butter on your work. Why do you get to do it to mine?? Also, please don't set any drink, especially those consisting of milky, sugary, staining substances, down next to the art. I know you're very, very careful, but there are other people who might not be.
9. I am sure that your cell phone conversation is vital to your survival. But it is not vital to mine, and when you stand directly in front of my booth yelling at your husband about whether to get McDonald's or Taco Bell on the way home, you drive other customers away. Don't give me a filthy look when, after ten minutes, I ask you to politely move, and then yell "I'M ON THE PHONE HERE!" in my face. Yes. I see that. So does everyone else. That's the problem. Also, which McDonald's will you be patronizing? I want to call them and offer them a percentage of my day's profits if they'll spit in your drink.
10. Finally, most artists really do enjoy talking about our work. The thing is, we're trying to sell it today, and we only get to do that once in a while, not every day unless we're lucky enough to be in a gallery or have a shop--in which case, we'd probably not be here. Also, note the word "sell". So please do not become offended and huffy when I will not spend forty minutes out of the three or four hours I have here explaining my entire artistic process to you in hopes that you might spend $10, because it does say right on my business card that I am available to teach workshops, and because that's my business card, maybe you might realize that as part of my BUSINESS, I might wish to be PAID for my knowledge. I know that we all think everything should be free, especially if its on the interwebs, but actually, it isn't. Also, please don't ask me where I get all of my materials and how much I paid for them. Not only is that rude, but why am I going to tell you that? So you can go buy all the same stuff, use all my ideas, and become a direct competitor??
This list will be added to as needed.
*Might be slightly exaggerated. But not as much as one might hope.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Twelve Steps for Dealing with the Republican Menace
Note: I originally published this on the "Notes" section of my Facebook profile. Since then, many people have forwarded it around, and since there are still people without FB accounts, I thought I would post it here as well.
My thanks to real twelve step programs for their inspiration. Feel free to forward and repost as needed, just leave my name attached. I wouldn't want anyone else to get in trouble for my smartassery.
TWELVE STEPS FOR DEALING WITH THE REPUBLICAN MENACE
by Wendy Bethel
A friend of mine wished that there was a 12 step program for her to do so she could stop trying to argue with Republicans. I agree that this is a vitally urgent issue, and so I've tried to oblige. These steps are only the beginning.
You must:
1. Admit that you are powerless over using logic on Republicans. You cannot argue with people in a language they do not speak.
2. Come to believe that powers not possessed by Republicans can restore you to sanity, including but not limited to compassion, intelligence, and reason
3. Turn over your energy wasted on speaking to Republicans to a high power, such as to the electoral college, or really, any college.
4. Take a fearless moral inventory of yourself.
For instance, do you believe that gay people are the same as pedophiles, those who practice bestiality, and rapists? Do you think that poor people are poor because they made “bad choices”? Do you believe in less government except when it applies to your enormous tax cuts? Do you care passionately about the rights of the unborn until the cord's cut? Do you believe that access to health care for every citizen is a big socialist plot, since you and everyone you know has really good insurance?
No? Then you don’t have to worry, because you are NOT a Republican and therefore you HAVE morals.
5. Admit to yourself the nature of your wrongs: You CANNOT reason with a Republican. See Step One.
6. Ask your higher power to remove the desire to reason with those who have defective characters, such as Republicans
7. Ask your higher power to remove Republicans from your life.
Trust me. It’s better this way.
8. Make a list of those who have been harmed by Republicans. This will be a long list. It may be quicker to simply make a list of Republicans, and then write at the top of it “Everyone except the following:”
9. Now, instead of wasting time, breath, and energy trying to speak to Republicans, make amends to those who have been harmed by them, including yourself, through volunteer work, community organizing, years of painful psychotherapy, living with compassion and integrity, and obviously, voting for Democrats.
10. Continue to take personal inventory and when you are wrong, admit it. It will not be easy to stop speaking to Republicans all at once. Sometimes, they seem almost normal until you’ve known them for a while. You may have to move, get a new job, find new friends, disown a child or two, and/or obtain a divorce. In the end, it is worth it.
11. Continue to practice empathy, reason, and love in your daily life. You could ask God what he wants you to do, but all too often he claims you should vote Republican, carry concealed weapons, hate the gays, bomb the brown people, and prevent women from entering clinics to get cancer screenings. Therefore, do so at your own risk. If I were you, I'd just make sure I was working on Step 10.
12. Now that you know how to free yourself of the Republican menace, carry your knowledge and support to others seeking to free themselves of the struggle.
And remember to take it one day at a time.
My thanks to real twelve step programs for their inspiration. Feel free to forward and repost as needed, just leave my name attached. I wouldn't want anyone else to get in trouble for my smartassery.
TWELVE STEPS FOR DEALING WITH THE REPUBLICAN MENACE
by Wendy Bethel
A friend of mine wished that there was a 12 step program for her to do so she could stop trying to argue with Republicans. I agree that this is a vitally urgent issue, and so I've tried to oblige. These steps are only the beginning.
You must:
1. Admit that you are powerless over using logic on Republicans. You cannot argue with people in a language they do not speak.
2. Come to believe that powers not possessed by Republicans can restore you to sanity, including but not limited to compassion, intelligence, and reason
3. Turn over your energy wasted on speaking to Republicans to a high power, such as to the electoral college, or really, any college.
4. Take a fearless moral inventory of yourself.
For instance, do you believe that gay people are the same as pedophiles, those who practice bestiality, and rapists? Do you think that poor people are poor because they made “bad choices”? Do you believe in less government except when it applies to your enormous tax cuts? Do you care passionately about the rights of the unborn until the cord's cut? Do you believe that access to health care for every citizen is a big socialist plot, since you and everyone you know has really good insurance?
No? Then you don’t have to worry, because you are NOT a Republican and therefore you HAVE morals.
5. Admit to yourself the nature of your wrongs: You CANNOT reason with a Republican. See Step One.
6. Ask your higher power to remove the desire to reason with those who have defective characters, such as Republicans
7. Ask your higher power to remove Republicans from your life.
Trust me. It’s better this way.
8. Make a list of those who have been harmed by Republicans. This will be a long list. It may be quicker to simply make a list of Republicans, and then write at the top of it “Everyone except the following:”
9. Now, instead of wasting time, breath, and energy trying to speak to Republicans, make amends to those who have been harmed by them, including yourself, through volunteer work, community organizing, years of painful psychotherapy, living with compassion and integrity, and obviously, voting for Democrats.
10. Continue to take personal inventory and when you are wrong, admit it. It will not be easy to stop speaking to Republicans all at once. Sometimes, they seem almost normal until you’ve known them for a while. You may have to move, get a new job, find new friends, disown a child or two, and/or obtain a divorce. In the end, it is worth it.
11. Continue to practice empathy, reason, and love in your daily life. You could ask God what he wants you to do, but all too often he claims you should vote Republican, carry concealed weapons, hate the gays, bomb the brown people, and prevent women from entering clinics to get cancer screenings. Therefore, do so at your own risk. If I were you, I'd just make sure I was working on Step 10.
12. Now that you know how to free yourself of the Republican menace, carry your knowledge and support to others seeking to free themselves of the struggle.
And remember to take it one day at a time.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
It's My Birthday, Bring On the Bad News!!
I have not had good luck with birthdays for much of my adult life. The bad luck streak started in 2000, where two days before I turned 31 I received an e-mail telling me to get myself to Chicago ASAP if I wanted to see my friend Jim* again. I got on a plane the next morning, and I was lucky enough to see him while he was still conscious. Against my better judgment, I left the hospital that night, and when I came back in the morning, he'd just died.
Which was SO typical of him. Dying on MY birthday, so that it would always now be all about him. And not waiting for me to get there before he died. He always did things when it was convenient for him, like graduate from college the year before I did, leaving me to face my senior year without him, and moving to Chicago and insisting that I visit him continually there during the winter months.**
I loved Jim fiercely, and even though we'd grown apart somewhat in the three or four years before his death, he was still one of the best friends I've ever had.
A few years later, my grandfather died only a week or so after my birthday. He was also named Jim, and he shared the same birthday with my friend Jim.
A couple of years went by and no one died on or near my birthday, which was considerate of my friends and family. Naturally, they've all been warned that if they're feeling under the weather in the month of January that they can just hang on til February. And then, of course, last year my job went to hell in a handbasket two days before my birthday.
So it should be no surprise that I'm a little edgy this time of year. Either people die, or there's another great loss. And so it really shouldn't have been shocking that I found out yesterday, only 3 days after my birthday, that my yarn shop is probably closing in another month or so. Meaning that now I have to find another job. And since I have no skills and no talents and no training except in librarianship, I'm not sure what this mystical job might be.
My parents keep telling me to go back to school. But I hate school. I have a remarkable amount of education, especially considering how much I hate school, and none of it has ever seemed to help. What could I go to school for, anyway? My father has suggested nursing at least 5 times. Except, I'm not really all that nuturing. Plus, if I can't handle library administrators, I'm not sure I could put up with DOCTORS.
Also nursing seems to involve things that have to do with science. And science and I are not friends. We're not even on speaking terms. The last science class I took was my senior year of high school and involved dissecting a fetal pig for an entire semester. I can still remember the horrible fingernail-y texture of the skull, and the icky smell of fetal pig juice that clung to my hands for hours.
Ugh. I really wish I hadn't remembered that smell.
And worst of all....did I mention that I just turned FORTY?!
*I used to have two gay best friends named Jim. In the past, I used a variety of descriptors to differentiate between them, including Slutty Jim and Not-so Slutty Jim; Filthy Jim and Even Filthier Jim, and Financially Irresponsible Jim and Financial Trainwreck Jim. Now, I just refer to them as Dead Jim and Living Jim. So much easier.
**Chicago is bearable between May and early September. My sister has lived there for the past several years. Because I am a bad sister, I have visited her precisely once. Its not that I'm trying to avoid her, it's just too fucking cold there.
Which was SO typical of him. Dying on MY birthday, so that it would always now be all about him. And not waiting for me to get there before he died. He always did things when it was convenient for him, like graduate from college the year before I did, leaving me to face my senior year without him, and moving to Chicago and insisting that I visit him continually there during the winter months.**
I loved Jim fiercely, and even though we'd grown apart somewhat in the three or four years before his death, he was still one of the best friends I've ever had.
A few years later, my grandfather died only a week or so after my birthday. He was also named Jim, and he shared the same birthday with my friend Jim.
A couple of years went by and no one died on or near my birthday, which was considerate of my friends and family. Naturally, they've all been warned that if they're feeling under the weather in the month of January that they can just hang on til February. And then, of course, last year my job went to hell in a handbasket two days before my birthday.
So it should be no surprise that I'm a little edgy this time of year. Either people die, or there's another great loss. And so it really shouldn't have been shocking that I found out yesterday, only 3 days after my birthday, that my yarn shop is probably closing in another month or so. Meaning that now I have to find another job. And since I have no skills and no talents and no training except in librarianship, I'm not sure what this mystical job might be.
My parents keep telling me to go back to school. But I hate school. I have a remarkable amount of education, especially considering how much I hate school, and none of it has ever seemed to help. What could I go to school for, anyway? My father has suggested nursing at least 5 times. Except, I'm not really all that nuturing. Plus, if I can't handle library administrators, I'm not sure I could put up with DOCTORS.
Also nursing seems to involve things that have to do with science. And science and I are not friends. We're not even on speaking terms. The last science class I took was my senior year of high school and involved dissecting a fetal pig for an entire semester. I can still remember the horrible fingernail-y texture of the skull, and the icky smell of fetal pig juice that clung to my hands for hours.
Ugh. I really wish I hadn't remembered that smell.
And worst of all....did I mention that I just turned FORTY?!
*I used to have two gay best friends named Jim. In the past, I used a variety of descriptors to differentiate between them, including Slutty Jim and Not-so Slutty Jim; Filthy Jim and Even Filthier Jim, and Financially Irresponsible Jim and Financial Trainwreck Jim. Now, I just refer to them as Dead Jim and Living Jim. So much easier.
**Chicago is bearable between May and early September. My sister has lived there for the past several years. Because I am a bad sister, I have visited her precisely once. Its not that I'm trying to avoid her, it's just too fucking cold there.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Resolutions redux
I'm pleased to report that I accomplished one of my new year's resolutions already!!
I cleaned the basement!!
Except, I'm not sure I deserve much praise for this one, seeing as it was actually last year's resolution. Still. DONE.
I hired someone to come and help me cart loads of things upstairs, and then I hired someone else to haul it all away. It's amazing how much better I feel about life in general knowing now that if I die suddenly, my family's main regret will now simply be, Who takes the damn dog? rather than Jesus Fuck, WHO is going to deal with that damn basement?
I wouldn't refer to my basement now as "clean" in any normal sense. Instead, it just looks like the basement of someone who won't throw things away, but who at least understands that they should be stacked neatly along the walls in some kind of order. I found several boxes from my last move, which was in 2001, where I'd clearly just dumped an entire drawer into the box and then moved it, meaning to sort it out later. Apparently, that's where all my makeup went. I thought I used to have a somewhat normal girly amount of face paint that was for humans and not dolls. Well, I did, it was just in a box labeled "BATHROOM DRAWER" underneath about seven other boxes in the far corner of the basement.
I also found a few boxes from when I cleaned out my office at my penultimate library job, where I'd occupied the same office for almost 8 years. Wow. I hope that library managed to replace its stock of paperclips and ballpoint pens with what they saved on my salary.
Aside from getting rid of so much stuff, I remembered just how many books I have that are in boxes and not on shelves. I would venture to say there are at least 20 boxes [and we're talking copier paper sized boxes that hold probably 40-50 books each] down there. Many of them are from my days as a medievalist, and I can't quite bear to part with them, because they're probably out of print and were hard to find in the first place. I've told myself that I'm going to start going through the boxes and sorting out things to take to Half Price Books. The only problem with that is I always trade them in for credit, not cash, which is probably not the best idea as it just means more books.
I've also started my doll blog, which is called, genius-like, Year of Dolls. Located at http://yearofdolls.blogspot.com. So far it has one doll on it, with hopefully many more to come. I intend to use that blog as a space to write about important crafting issues such as what kind of stuffing to use and which fabric is best for needlesculpting. Because I apparently have quite a lot to say about those things, but the seven or eight people who read this blog are most certainly not among them.
I cleaned the basement!!
Except, I'm not sure I deserve much praise for this one, seeing as it was actually last year's resolution. Still. DONE.
I hired someone to come and help me cart loads of things upstairs, and then I hired someone else to haul it all away. It's amazing how much better I feel about life in general knowing now that if I die suddenly, my family's main regret will now simply be, Who takes the damn dog? rather than Jesus Fuck, WHO is going to deal with that damn basement?
I wouldn't refer to my basement now as "clean" in any normal sense. Instead, it just looks like the basement of someone who won't throw things away, but who at least understands that they should be stacked neatly along the walls in some kind of order. I found several boxes from my last move, which was in 2001, where I'd clearly just dumped an entire drawer into the box and then moved it, meaning to sort it out later. Apparently, that's where all my makeup went. I thought I used to have a somewhat normal girly amount of face paint that was for humans and not dolls. Well, I did, it was just in a box labeled "BATHROOM DRAWER" underneath about seven other boxes in the far corner of the basement.
I also found a few boxes from when I cleaned out my office at my penultimate library job, where I'd occupied the same office for almost 8 years. Wow. I hope that library managed to replace its stock of paperclips and ballpoint pens with what they saved on my salary.
Aside from getting rid of so much stuff, I remembered just how many books I have that are in boxes and not on shelves. I would venture to say there are at least 20 boxes [and we're talking copier paper sized boxes that hold probably 40-50 books each] down there. Many of them are from my days as a medievalist, and I can't quite bear to part with them, because they're probably out of print and were hard to find in the first place. I've told myself that I'm going to start going through the boxes and sorting out things to take to Half Price Books. The only problem with that is I always trade them in for credit, not cash, which is probably not the best idea as it just means more books.
I've also started my doll blog, which is called, genius-like, Year of Dolls. Located at http://yearofdolls.blogspot.com. So far it has one doll on it, with hopefully many more to come. I intend to use that blog as a space to write about important crafting issues such as what kind of stuffing to use and which fabric is best for needlesculpting. Because I apparently have quite a lot to say about those things, but the seven or eight people who read this blog are most certainly not among them.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Happy New Queer!!!
Yay! Suck it 2008, you're dead!!!
I am so freaking glad that 2008 is DONE. OVER. FINITO. A bug smashed and drying on the windshield of life!!!
I started 2008 with a cloud of gloom swirling about my head, made up of equal parts paranoia, depression, and nameless ongoing dread. Two weeks later, all of that made perfect sense when my library life came crashing down around my ears. I spent several months immobilized with grief, then anger, then fear......really, it just sucked all the way around. Things settled down a bit after I started working full time at the yarn shop, which I'm still doing. I've had some rocky times lately, because I still fall prey to my old habits of 1)making my job my whole life and 2)procrastination. I adore working at the yarn shop, but it is very easy not to look up and separate my life at large from the shop, because so many of my friends are customers or co-workers.
And procrastination.
Hmm.
[pause]
Sorry, I just had to get up, walk around the house, get a diet Pepsi, and flip channels for a moment.
What was I talking about? Oh yeah. Procrastination.
I think procrastination is my main trouble in life. I waste so. much. time.
Here are a list of the things I meant to do over the past year that i didn't do:
1. Quit smoking [ok, in all fairness, I did have a pretty stressful time, which doesn't make purposely putting oneself in a horrible mood the best choice]
2. Get my house under control
3. Exercise more
4. Produce more dolls
5. Write regularly
6. Deal with the shame hole of the basement
I'm sure there were more, but I've forgotten what they are since I put them off for so long.
At any rate, as I examine all my past resolutions/vows/plans, one theme connects them all, and that's procrastination. I am soooooo good at putting things off, and making excuses, and all of that---it all comes down to procrastinating. And now that I'm going to be FORTY in two weeks---well, it seems like maybe I should stop living for the future and live in the NOW. Instead of planning out things and making lists, I need to follow though and DO things, not just think about doing them.
Meaning, if i'm going to write a book---WRITE IT. Stop thinking of ideas, and writing plot sketches, and thinking about it. Sit my ass down for at least 30 minutes a day and WRITE. Stop worrying about having a full finished project.
And as for my dollmaking and other arty things: I need to stop thinking about it, and looking at stuff on the internet, and buying supplies. I need to MAKE THINGS. One of the only things that really keeps my spirits up and fufills me as a human being is making stuff, especially dolls. I do love knitting, but it doesn't hit me in the creative part of my soul like dollmaking. For me knitting is more of a nervous habit to do with my hands; it's not yoga, which heals you body and soul. Its more like a nicotine patch that enables me to sort of get through the day but that doesn't leave me feeling more refreshed and like I've grown when I come out on the other side.
So this year my only New Year's Resolution is this: STOP PUTTING SHIT OFF.
To this end, I've already hired someone to help me clean out my basement, on Saturday.
I'm also setting up a few other rules for myself, because without structure, i'll be back to my old habits in about ten minutes.
1. Write every day for at least 20 minutes. It can be on this blog, or another blog [more about that in a minute], or it can be stream of consciousness crap, or it can be part of a piece or a story. Just fucking WRITE.
2. Make at least one full, finished doll per week. The doll can be a tiny, pancake unembellished form, or it can be a fully costumed 36 inch something or other. And of course, some dolls will take way longer than one week, but I still must have one finished SOMETHING per week. I will include bears and other soft sculpture animals or pieces in this, but I am not allowed to count any other items, like a knitted doll, a mixed media collage, or anything towards this. If I make a paper doll that has elements of other art in it, that's ok. Just have to get my dollmaking focused again, because it is sooooo much a part of how i define myself, yet I don't do it enough because dollmaking takes much more time, energy, and creativity than anything else.
I have some other rules I'd like to put in place, like only using my own patterns and designs, but i'm going to wait on that one for a while. Right now my goal is to just get myself working. I am going to let myself take dolls in process and finish them, those can count towards the total.
2a. As part of the doll goal, I'm going to set up a doll blog where I write about and post photos of the dolls. Unless i feel like I have something/someone to report to, I know I'll let myself fall behind. i'm setting up the blog and working on the first doll TODAY.
3. I am going to quit smoking, once and for all, for good. I've done it before, so I know I can. I'm going to do it the way it works for me: by tapering down, making it inconvenient for myself, and then using the nicotine patch for a couple of weeks. I'm tired of the expense, the smell, the hassle, and the constant feeling of guilt. I have not set the official date, but I may decide on my birthday as the actual no more cigarettes and switch to the patch date. I really don't want to be a forty year old smoker.
4. I'm going to pick up my exercising again, which right now consists of walking the dog and using my mini trampoline*.
Those are my main three rules for right now. I also have plans eating better, and dealing with my weight, but those, esp the last, come after smoking is conquered. I was going to lose weight first, but re-gaining it and then losing it again doesn't make sense.
Sigh.
I'd love to waste a little more time writing some lists, but I have SHIT TO DO.
*Before you laugh, try it. I guarantee that after five minutes your calf muscles will be screaming for mercy. It really works, it's fun, and most importantly, can be accomplished while watching TV.
I am so freaking glad that 2008 is DONE. OVER. FINITO. A bug smashed and drying on the windshield of life!!!
I started 2008 with a cloud of gloom swirling about my head, made up of equal parts paranoia, depression, and nameless ongoing dread. Two weeks later, all of that made perfect sense when my library life came crashing down around my ears. I spent several months immobilized with grief, then anger, then fear......really, it just sucked all the way around. Things settled down a bit after I started working full time at the yarn shop, which I'm still doing. I've had some rocky times lately, because I still fall prey to my old habits of 1)making my job my whole life and 2)procrastination. I adore working at the yarn shop, but it is very easy not to look up and separate my life at large from the shop, because so many of my friends are customers or co-workers.
And procrastination.
Hmm.
[pause]
Sorry, I just had to get up, walk around the house, get a diet Pepsi, and flip channels for a moment.
What was I talking about? Oh yeah. Procrastination.
I think procrastination is my main trouble in life. I waste so. much. time.
Here are a list of the things I meant to do over the past year that i didn't do:
1. Quit smoking [ok, in all fairness, I did have a pretty stressful time, which doesn't make purposely putting oneself in a horrible mood the best choice]
2. Get my house under control
3. Exercise more
4. Produce more dolls
5. Write regularly
6. Deal with the shame hole of the basement
I'm sure there were more, but I've forgotten what they are since I put them off for so long.
At any rate, as I examine all my past resolutions/vows/plans, one theme connects them all, and that's procrastination. I am soooooo good at putting things off, and making excuses, and all of that---it all comes down to procrastinating. And now that I'm going to be FORTY in two weeks---well, it seems like maybe I should stop living for the future and live in the NOW. Instead of planning out things and making lists, I need to follow though and DO things, not just think about doing them.
Meaning, if i'm going to write a book---WRITE IT. Stop thinking of ideas, and writing plot sketches, and thinking about it. Sit my ass down for at least 30 minutes a day and WRITE. Stop worrying about having a full finished project.
And as for my dollmaking and other arty things: I need to stop thinking about it, and looking at stuff on the internet, and buying supplies. I need to MAKE THINGS. One of the only things that really keeps my spirits up and fufills me as a human being is making stuff, especially dolls. I do love knitting, but it doesn't hit me in the creative part of my soul like dollmaking. For me knitting is more of a nervous habit to do with my hands; it's not yoga, which heals you body and soul. Its more like a nicotine patch that enables me to sort of get through the day but that doesn't leave me feeling more refreshed and like I've grown when I come out on the other side.
So this year my only New Year's Resolution is this: STOP PUTTING SHIT OFF.
To this end, I've already hired someone to help me clean out my basement, on Saturday.
I'm also setting up a few other rules for myself, because without structure, i'll be back to my old habits in about ten minutes.
1. Write every day for at least 20 minutes. It can be on this blog, or another blog [more about that in a minute], or it can be stream of consciousness crap, or it can be part of a piece or a story. Just fucking WRITE.
2. Make at least one full, finished doll per week. The doll can be a tiny, pancake unembellished form, or it can be a fully costumed 36 inch something or other. And of course, some dolls will take way longer than one week, but I still must have one finished SOMETHING per week. I will include bears and other soft sculpture animals or pieces in this, but I am not allowed to count any other items, like a knitted doll, a mixed media collage, or anything towards this. If I make a paper doll that has elements of other art in it, that's ok. Just have to get my dollmaking focused again, because it is sooooo much a part of how i define myself, yet I don't do it enough because dollmaking takes much more time, energy, and creativity than anything else.
I have some other rules I'd like to put in place, like only using my own patterns and designs, but i'm going to wait on that one for a while. Right now my goal is to just get myself working. I am going to let myself take dolls in process and finish them, those can count towards the total.
2a. As part of the doll goal, I'm going to set up a doll blog where I write about and post photos of the dolls. Unless i feel like I have something/someone to report to, I know I'll let myself fall behind. i'm setting up the blog and working on the first doll TODAY.
3. I am going to quit smoking, once and for all, for good. I've done it before, so I know I can. I'm going to do it the way it works for me: by tapering down, making it inconvenient for myself, and then using the nicotine patch for a couple of weeks. I'm tired of the expense, the smell, the hassle, and the constant feeling of guilt. I have not set the official date, but I may decide on my birthday as the actual no more cigarettes and switch to the patch date. I really don't want to be a forty year old smoker.
4. I'm going to pick up my exercising again, which right now consists of walking the dog and using my mini trampoline*.
Those are my main three rules for right now. I also have plans eating better, and dealing with my weight, but those, esp the last, come after smoking is conquered. I was going to lose weight first, but re-gaining it and then losing it again doesn't make sense.
Sigh.
I'd love to waste a little more time writing some lists, but I have SHIT TO DO.
*Before you laugh, try it. I guarantee that after five minutes your calf muscles will be screaming for mercy. It really works, it's fun, and most importantly, can be accomplished while watching TV.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Holiday Greetings!!!!
Merry Christmas to You Know Who You Are!!!!
I thought I'd send you all a nice holiday greeting and update you on my life in the past year!!! After all, I'm so thankful to you all for helping make 2008 such a great, great year in my life!
Let's go back a year to December 2007! What a fantastic month that was!! I remember worrying that my depression was spiraling out of control again, because I felt soooooooo paranoid and unhappy. What a bummer!! I was sooooo depressed, and I had the strangest feeling that people were talking about me, but wrote it off to my natural paranoia and the fact that I've got crazy on both sides of my family, ha ha, that is so fun!! Anyway, I didn't have to worry!!! Yay!! Because I wasn't paranoid at all! Because you guys were TOTALLY talking about me, and going to other coworkers and telling them all this funny, crazy stuff that was completely out of your heads!! Sheesh! You guys kill me!!!
So anyway I had a really depressing Christmas in 2007 where I was soooooo down I cried every day, and thought, oh my, that's it, I'm completely nuts, even when things are going great I just worry myself to death. Silly, silly me! Why can't I be more upbeat? Why do I have to be such a poopypants all the time??
After the holidays, though, I went back to my lovely job that I loved soooooooo much, with my employees who I'd spent about 150 hours making gifts for, and who I cared about as people and for whom, as a supervisor, I bent over backwards! And it was so cool because every day you'd all smile at me and chat with me like we were buds!! Just like everything was great and half of you hadn't spent the last month actively trying to come up with a plan to get me fired!!!! You guys are such sneaky little buggers, ha ha!!! And soon my birthday was coming up and I teased everyone about it, pretending like you were planning some kind of party, and everyone was all secretive, like you guys were planning a great big surprise or something!! Gosh! I just LOVE surprises!
Then one day my boss called me in the office for our normal afternoon chat! And the nice thing was, it was only two days before my birthday and the special surprise I knew eveyrone was planning!!
So imagine my delight at getting my surprise two whole days early! I walked into my boss's office and there were HR AND the Director!!!! Wow!!! What a treat!!!! The whole administrative staff at once!!! I figured they were going to tell me something neato, like the time my boss and HR called me in to tell me they were giving someone a great big raise that I had nothing to do with! Oh, wait, you guys thought that was ME?? Sillies!!! I had no control over anyone's salary!
But no!! The cool thing they had to tell me was that "some" of my employees had been complaining about me!! Luckily, I know exactly which employees they meant, because after I left my beloved job sobbing in disgrace never, ever to return, and went home to fall into a near suicidal depression, well, you guys thoughtfully sent me BIRTHDAY cards!!! Thank you thank you!!!! What an unusual moment that was, opening a large brown envelope from the library and expecting to see a dismissal notice but instead seeing BIRTHDAY CARDS!!! It takes a special kind of person to try and get someone fired yet STILL remember to wish her a happy birthday!!! I'm just so lucky to know FIVE people like that!!!
Anyway, then I found out that not only had been employees been complaining about me, they'd been speaking to other department heads, including someone I thought was a good friend!!! I guess he just didn't want to worry me by giving me a heads up or anything crazy like that! He is such a great guy!!! Always thinking of others!!!
And it turns out, apparently the administration went on a witch hunt!! Which was kinda funny cause it wasn't even Halloween! And they managed to make up a whole bunch of stuff that wasn't true, and then, as my special birthday gift, they announced that I'd be on suspension for two days and then--yay!!!--when I came back I would get to be on a special performance plan and if I did anything they didn't like at all, I'd be summarily dismissed!!!
Wow!! What a great surprise!!!! I don't know how to thank you guys enough for making my 39th birthday SO MEMORABLE!!!
Anyway, after about three weeks I stopped crying constantly, and only cried about three times a day. Golly, that sure was a relief!! Of course, I couldn't read a book for another couple of months because for some reason the sight of books reminded me of libraries, and that reminded me of my job, and for some reason, that made me have funny feelings in my tummy and my eyes would start watering. So weird!!!
I was real excited to get back to work until i realized that huh, maybe when people make up lies about you and tell them to everyone that maybe they might not WANT you back. And then I realized, huh, I think if I do go back, that maybe some people might not be NICE to me. I know!!! Isn't that strange?? So, I sent in my resignation! Oopsy-daisy!
The great thing about all of this is that I didn't just quit a job!! No!! You guys helped me see the light about my whole life!! I realized my career was totally unsuited to me!! And that my whole life was wrapped up in the library, and the people there!! And that without my job, not only had I lost my financial stability, my professional standing, my social outlets, and my insurance---I'd actually lost my entire sense of self worth!!! Now THAT is a gift that keeps on giving!!! You guys helped me to realize that I was a piece of shit barely worthy of oxygen!!! That my entire life up to this point was a misdirected waste trying to fit in with people who were never, ever going to like me or respect me because I can't ever be a quiet mousy librarian and use my tongue to clean out administrators' assholes!!! When I think of all you've done for me, I can hardly even speak!!!
Anyway, it's been almost a year and I just wanted to let you know how great things are going for me!! I've got a new job! I really love it, but I work my ass off for about a quarter of what I made before, with no benefits, but what's that compared to being able to stay in one's home and buy groceries??? Wendy Whiner, that's me, ha ha!! It's not like I'm not allowed to get COBRA right now for a mere $450 a month!!! And, even better, when that runs out I'll be able to save sooooooo much money, since I won't even be able to buy my own health insurance!! Those wacky pre-existing conditions!!! I thought about selling my house, but oh, this nutty economy!! whoopsies!!!!
And now its the holidays again!!! That special time of year when we connect with old friends, and look back on the past year, and get together with our families, and remember that Christmas is about love, and giving, and thinking about someone besides yourselves for more than possibly two seconds. It's a time when we should be happy, not so depressed we can hardly move, and it's definitely not a time when you should have to be reminded, every year, of how treacherous and disgusting other humans can be. But thanks to you guys, I get to do just that!!! Yay!! Thanks for filling my holiday season, not to mention my whole year, with such special memories!!!
Merry Christmas!!!!
I thought I'd send you all a nice holiday greeting and update you on my life in the past year!!! After all, I'm so thankful to you all for helping make 2008 such a great, great year in my life!
Let's go back a year to December 2007! What a fantastic month that was!! I remember worrying that my depression was spiraling out of control again, because I felt soooooooo paranoid and unhappy. What a bummer!! I was sooooo depressed, and I had the strangest feeling that people were talking about me, but wrote it off to my natural paranoia and the fact that I've got crazy on both sides of my family, ha ha, that is so fun!! Anyway, I didn't have to worry!!! Yay!! Because I wasn't paranoid at all! Because you guys were TOTALLY talking about me, and going to other coworkers and telling them all this funny, crazy stuff that was completely out of your heads!! Sheesh! You guys kill me!!!
So anyway I had a really depressing Christmas in 2007 where I was soooooo down I cried every day, and thought, oh my, that's it, I'm completely nuts, even when things are going great I just worry myself to death. Silly, silly me! Why can't I be more upbeat? Why do I have to be such a poopypants all the time??
After the holidays, though, I went back to my lovely job that I loved soooooooo much, with my employees who I'd spent about 150 hours making gifts for, and who I cared about as people and for whom, as a supervisor, I bent over backwards! And it was so cool because every day you'd all smile at me and chat with me like we were buds!! Just like everything was great and half of you hadn't spent the last month actively trying to come up with a plan to get me fired!!!! You guys are such sneaky little buggers, ha ha!!! And soon my birthday was coming up and I teased everyone about it, pretending like you were planning some kind of party, and everyone was all secretive, like you guys were planning a great big surprise or something!! Gosh! I just LOVE surprises!
Then one day my boss called me in the office for our normal afternoon chat! And the nice thing was, it was only two days before my birthday and the special surprise I knew eveyrone was planning!!
So imagine my delight at getting my surprise two whole days early! I walked into my boss's office and there were HR AND the Director!!!! Wow!!! What a treat!!!! The whole administrative staff at once!!! I figured they were going to tell me something neato, like the time my boss and HR called me in to tell me they were giving someone a great big raise that I had nothing to do with! Oh, wait, you guys thought that was ME?? Sillies!!! I had no control over anyone's salary!
But no!! The cool thing they had to tell me was that "some" of my employees had been complaining about me!! Luckily, I know exactly which employees they meant, because after I left my beloved job sobbing in disgrace never, ever to return, and went home to fall into a near suicidal depression, well, you guys thoughtfully sent me BIRTHDAY cards!!! Thank you thank you!!!! What an unusual moment that was, opening a large brown envelope from the library and expecting to see a dismissal notice but instead seeing BIRTHDAY CARDS!!! It takes a special kind of person to try and get someone fired yet STILL remember to wish her a happy birthday!!! I'm just so lucky to know FIVE people like that!!!
Anyway, then I found out that not only had been employees been complaining about me, they'd been speaking to other department heads, including someone I thought was a good friend!!! I guess he just didn't want to worry me by giving me a heads up or anything crazy like that! He is such a great guy!!! Always thinking of others!!!
And it turns out, apparently the administration went on a witch hunt!! Which was kinda funny cause it wasn't even Halloween! And they managed to make up a whole bunch of stuff that wasn't true, and then, as my special birthday gift, they announced that I'd be on suspension for two days and then--yay!!!--when I came back I would get to be on a special performance plan and if I did anything they didn't like at all, I'd be summarily dismissed!!!
Wow!! What a great surprise!!!! I don't know how to thank you guys enough for making my 39th birthday SO MEMORABLE!!!
Anyway, after about three weeks I stopped crying constantly, and only cried about three times a day. Golly, that sure was a relief!! Of course, I couldn't read a book for another couple of months because for some reason the sight of books reminded me of libraries, and that reminded me of my job, and for some reason, that made me have funny feelings in my tummy and my eyes would start watering. So weird!!!
I was real excited to get back to work until i realized that huh, maybe when people make up lies about you and tell them to everyone that maybe they might not WANT you back. And then I realized, huh, I think if I do go back, that maybe some people might not be NICE to me. I know!!! Isn't that strange?? So, I sent in my resignation! Oopsy-daisy!
The great thing about all of this is that I didn't just quit a job!! No!! You guys helped me see the light about my whole life!! I realized my career was totally unsuited to me!! And that my whole life was wrapped up in the library, and the people there!! And that without my job, not only had I lost my financial stability, my professional standing, my social outlets, and my insurance---I'd actually lost my entire sense of self worth!!! Now THAT is a gift that keeps on giving!!! You guys helped me to realize that I was a piece of shit barely worthy of oxygen!!! That my entire life up to this point was a misdirected waste trying to fit in with people who were never, ever going to like me or respect me because I can't ever be a quiet mousy librarian and use my tongue to clean out administrators' assholes!!! When I think of all you've done for me, I can hardly even speak!!!
Anyway, it's been almost a year and I just wanted to let you know how great things are going for me!! I've got a new job! I really love it, but I work my ass off for about a quarter of what I made before, with no benefits, but what's that compared to being able to stay in one's home and buy groceries??? Wendy Whiner, that's me, ha ha!! It's not like I'm not allowed to get COBRA right now for a mere $450 a month!!! And, even better, when that runs out I'll be able to save sooooooo much money, since I won't even be able to buy my own health insurance!! Those wacky pre-existing conditions!!! I thought about selling my house, but oh, this nutty economy!! whoopsies!!!!
And now its the holidays again!!! That special time of year when we connect with old friends, and look back on the past year, and get together with our families, and remember that Christmas is about love, and giving, and thinking about someone besides yourselves for more than possibly two seconds. It's a time when we should be happy, not so depressed we can hardly move, and it's definitely not a time when you should have to be reminded, every year, of how treacherous and disgusting other humans can be. But thanks to you guys, I get to do just that!!! Yay!! Thanks for filling my holiday season, not to mention my whole year, with such special memories!!!
Merry Christmas!!!!
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Crazydog
Now that I am working full time again, my poor dog spends most of the day alone. which means, when she's out of her crate, she has a lot of energy.
And by "a lot" I mean that she is like a canonball of yellow fluff that has been shot at full force into an atmosphere of low gravity so that it never reaches the ground.
Here's my normal morning these days:
Wake up at crack of 9am. Feed dog.
Let dog out.
Slump on sofa for 45 minutes until dog barks wildly at door
9:58. Let dog in and head back to sofa, where dog has already leapt and stands, quivering with anticipation that I might drop some food, take her for a walk, or simply do something that cues her to bark wildly and leap about like the maniac she is. Head instead back to bedroom, where, instead of gathering possible clothes for day, I collapse on bed.
9:58and a half. 75 pounds of furry insanity does four legged leap directly on my head.
9:59. Decide may as well get dressed. Which cannot be accomplished with dog in room, as she believes that clothes being pulled out are wild animals that she must attack, bite, and shake wildly to break their poor little necks.
10:01. Manage to simultaneously push dog outside of room and close door before she lunges back through it.
10:03 Tear jerkingly intense whining and pawing commences. It sounds as though she's being tortured. I stagger about room trying to assemble pants, shirt, and hopefully underwear while trying to harden my heart again the dog drama going on outside.
10:04 Cannot stand it anymore and so let dog in, who goes from depths of dog-despair to wild exuberance in .3 seconds.
10:04-10:10 Dog engages in burst of "Crazydog". This is when dog leaps on bed, smacks front paws down, and then suddenly begins leaping from bed to floor and back again without actually touching the floor. It's completely insane and makes me laugh so hard I fall over, which excites dog even more and forces her to incorporate wild frenzied barking into crazydogging.
10:11 Realize have exactly 19 minutes to corral beast, finish dressing, and get to work. Start yelling "STOP IT LUNA" which means that the crazydog is ratcheted up at least two notches until I have to leave bedroom and shut door as she might accidentally kill me in her frenzy.
10:11 and a half: Horrible, heartbreaking whines.
10:12 Open door. Explosion of yellow fur heads directly for my head; I step aside so that she can careen into kitchen and scrabble across the linoleum, hoping that she will hit her head and pass out.
10:13 Run back into bedroom, harden heart against whines, and throw clothes on in one minute or less.
10:14 Re-emerge to dog standing on hind legs and pawing at me with utter delight as though she has not seen me in months and not just 45 seconds.
10:15 Tell dog "Time for bed!" which means it's time for her to go in her crate* and which words evoke in her the immediate response of slumping to the floor and turning onto her back and doing that thing with her eyes that Puss in Boots does in Shrek. She also puts her paws under her chin and tilts her head at me so that I am immobilized with sheer love at her complete adorability, which is part of her plan.
10:15-10:20 Coo and cuddle the sweet little puppy baby. Oh how sweet she is.
10:21 Announce that it is time for "Mommy to go to work". Magically, dog enters crate, immediately lies down with nose between paws, and does the Puss in Boots thing with her eyes until I am nearly in tears. I back out of the room offering promises of walks, treats, and bones as soon as I return.
10:22 Run around house gathering purse, keys, shoes, various knitting projects which will never actually leave my knitting bag as I almost never actually knit at work, and check myself to make sure all pieces of clothing made it on to appropriate body part.
10:25 Leave house. Thank goodness shop is less than 5 minutes away.
*To anyone who might be tempted to give unwanted and ignorant advice about crating my dog: Don't. People who don't crate dogs that are not fully trained are like the assholes who let their cats go outside: asking for trouble and not watching out for their animals. There is nothing that pisses me off more than someone who says "Ohhhhh, you put your dog in a CAGE???"as though it's the most inhumane thing possible. Golly, why don't I just let a 75 lb mildly retarded ruminant loose in my house all day, free to ingest various craft supplies, canned goods, and socks? Cause THAT's safe.
And by "a lot" I mean that she is like a canonball of yellow fluff that has been shot at full force into an atmosphere of low gravity so that it never reaches the ground.
Here's my normal morning these days:
Wake up at crack of 9am. Feed dog.
Let dog out.
Slump on sofa for 45 minutes until dog barks wildly at door
9:58. Let dog in and head back to sofa, where dog has already leapt and stands, quivering with anticipation that I might drop some food, take her for a walk, or simply do something that cues her to bark wildly and leap about like the maniac she is. Head instead back to bedroom, where, instead of gathering possible clothes for day, I collapse on bed.
9:58and a half. 75 pounds of furry insanity does four legged leap directly on my head.
9:59. Decide may as well get dressed. Which cannot be accomplished with dog in room, as she believes that clothes being pulled out are wild animals that she must attack, bite, and shake wildly to break their poor little necks.
10:01. Manage to simultaneously push dog outside of room and close door before she lunges back through it.
10:03 Tear jerkingly intense whining and pawing commences. It sounds as though she's being tortured. I stagger about room trying to assemble pants, shirt, and hopefully underwear while trying to harden my heart again the dog drama going on outside.
10:04 Cannot stand it anymore and so let dog in, who goes from depths of dog-despair to wild exuberance in .3 seconds.
10:04-10:10 Dog engages in burst of "Crazydog". This is when dog leaps on bed, smacks front paws down, and then suddenly begins leaping from bed to floor and back again without actually touching the floor. It's completely insane and makes me laugh so hard I fall over, which excites dog even more and forces her to incorporate wild frenzied barking into crazydogging.
10:11 Realize have exactly 19 minutes to corral beast, finish dressing, and get to work. Start yelling "STOP IT LUNA" which means that the crazydog is ratcheted up at least two notches until I have to leave bedroom and shut door as she might accidentally kill me in her frenzy.
10:11 and a half: Horrible, heartbreaking whines.
10:12 Open door. Explosion of yellow fur heads directly for my head; I step aside so that she can careen into kitchen and scrabble across the linoleum, hoping that she will hit her head and pass out.
10:13 Run back into bedroom, harden heart against whines, and throw clothes on in one minute or less.
10:14 Re-emerge to dog standing on hind legs and pawing at me with utter delight as though she has not seen me in months and not just 45 seconds.
10:15 Tell dog "Time for bed!" which means it's time for her to go in her crate* and which words evoke in her the immediate response of slumping to the floor and turning onto her back and doing that thing with her eyes that Puss in Boots does in Shrek. She also puts her paws under her chin and tilts her head at me so that I am immobilized with sheer love at her complete adorability, which is part of her plan.
10:15-10:20 Coo and cuddle the sweet little puppy baby. Oh how sweet she is.
10:21 Announce that it is time for "Mommy to go to work". Magically, dog enters crate, immediately lies down with nose between paws, and does the Puss in Boots thing with her eyes until I am nearly in tears. I back out of the room offering promises of walks, treats, and bones as soon as I return.
10:22 Run around house gathering purse, keys, shoes, various knitting projects which will never actually leave my knitting bag as I almost never actually knit at work, and check myself to make sure all pieces of clothing made it on to appropriate body part.
10:25 Leave house. Thank goodness shop is less than 5 minutes away.
*To anyone who might be tempted to give unwanted and ignorant advice about crating my dog: Don't. People who don't crate dogs that are not fully trained are like the assholes who let their cats go outside: asking for trouble and not watching out for their animals. There is nothing that pisses me off more than someone who says "Ohhhhh, you put your dog in a CAGE???"as though it's the most inhumane thing possible. Golly, why don't I just let a 75 lb mildly retarded ruminant loose in my house all day, free to ingest various craft supplies, canned goods, and socks? Cause THAT's safe.
Monday, September 29, 2008
The Bigot Next Door
So on Saturday I came home after a horribly hectic week, and did the one thing I've wanted to do for several months now: I put my Obama sign in my front yard. I finally managed to score one at a local farmer's market in a neighborhood much hipper than mine. While I poked the metal rods into the ground, my republican next door neighbors jeered and made some unpleasant noises from their front porch which seemed, at the time, mostly goodnatured. I said "Oh, come on now, you're not really going to vote for someone running with that idiot Palin, are you?"
To which my neighbor replied "Well I sure as hell ain't voting for no n-word Muslim!"
His wife laughed as though that were funny.
Only he didn't say "n-word".
He said "nigger".
In broad daylight.
To my face.
In Columbus Ohio, 2008.
I honestly stumbled back a step and spluttered "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????"
He explained "Oh, I didn't mean it towards YOU". As though, duh, obviously, that's okay. It's okay to SAY that word, as long as it's about someone else????
I just stared at him and said "Um, he's not even a Muslim. Although i'm not sure why that would matter. And I didn't know anyone actually still used that word in this century. Wow".
And I went in my house. I was shaking with fury, and disgust, and, I'm not ashamed to admit, fear. Because someone who can throw off the n-word that easily is someone I don't even want to have to look at, ever, let alone LIVE next to. And did I mention that he spewed this hatred in front of his 2 year old granddaughter??
Of course, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. After all, this is the same creature who, when I had just bought my house and was driving around looking at it before I took possession, I caught pissing in the alley, pants around his ankles, in front of his ten year old daughter. It's also the same thug who slashed Lazy Homophobe Boy's truck tires once when they got into a disagreement about the fact that LHB was tired of hearing Toby Keith blasting day and night from the redneck's garage. Not to mention the fact that this dickwad has been arrested more than once for beating his wife, and that his "job" is that of housepainter, which means that he drinks in his backyard all day while his painting van rusts in front of my house on its four flat tires. Basically, he's a complete waste of skin. Which I knew, but still, I was, as the Brits say, completely gobsmacked at his little racist outburst. I mean, do I look like someone you can just say "nigger" in front of?? What about me would make you think that was acceptable on any level?? What about ANYONE would make you think that was an acceptable thing to say, anytime, anywhere???
And did I mention that I live in an otherwise nice neighborhood? I bought the cheapest house in the most expensive neighborhood I could afford, and it's a fairly exclusive neighborhood. In spite of the flagrant redneckery of my neighbor, my house has increased in value to the point that I could never afford it now if I didn't already own it. The schools are excellent; we have our own library; gourmet restaurants, and a nice little downtown area. I can see the skyline from the second story of my house. It's mostly a fairly progressive, well educated neighborhood. Except for the house next door, where West Virginia would be too refined for a vacation destination.
My only comfort is this: these repulsive people have a teen daughter who is way beyond tomboy. I mean, she makes Rosie O'Donnell look like a simpering girly girl. She is the butchest kid I have ever seen. And I spent a lot of time at women's music festivals in the 90s.
And someday soon, she's going to bring home a girl to meet Mom and Dad. A girl that probably looks like a linebacker, and hopefully, can kick Dad's alcoholic ass.
I can't wait.
To which my neighbor replied "Well I sure as hell ain't voting for no n-word Muslim!"
His wife laughed as though that were funny.
Only he didn't say "n-word".
He said "nigger".
In broad daylight.
To my face.
In Columbus Ohio, 2008.
I honestly stumbled back a step and spluttered "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????"
He explained "Oh, I didn't mean it towards YOU". As though, duh, obviously, that's okay. It's okay to SAY that word, as long as it's about someone else????
I just stared at him and said "Um, he's not even a Muslim. Although i'm not sure why that would matter. And I didn't know anyone actually still used that word in this century. Wow".
And I went in my house. I was shaking with fury, and disgust, and, I'm not ashamed to admit, fear. Because someone who can throw off the n-word that easily is someone I don't even want to have to look at, ever, let alone LIVE next to. And did I mention that he spewed this hatred in front of his 2 year old granddaughter??
Of course, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. After all, this is the same creature who, when I had just bought my house and was driving around looking at it before I took possession, I caught pissing in the alley, pants around his ankles, in front of his ten year old daughter. It's also the same thug who slashed Lazy Homophobe Boy's truck tires once when they got into a disagreement about the fact that LHB was tired of hearing Toby Keith blasting day and night from the redneck's garage. Not to mention the fact that this dickwad has been arrested more than once for beating his wife, and that his "job" is that of housepainter, which means that he drinks in his backyard all day while his painting van rusts in front of my house on its four flat tires. Basically, he's a complete waste of skin. Which I knew, but still, I was, as the Brits say, completely gobsmacked at his little racist outburst. I mean, do I look like someone you can just say "nigger" in front of?? What about me would make you think that was acceptable on any level?? What about ANYONE would make you think that was an acceptable thing to say, anytime, anywhere???
And did I mention that I live in an otherwise nice neighborhood? I bought the cheapest house in the most expensive neighborhood I could afford, and it's a fairly exclusive neighborhood. In spite of the flagrant redneckery of my neighbor, my house has increased in value to the point that I could never afford it now if I didn't already own it. The schools are excellent; we have our own library; gourmet restaurants, and a nice little downtown area. I can see the skyline from the second story of my house. It's mostly a fairly progressive, well educated neighborhood. Except for the house next door, where West Virginia would be too refined for a vacation destination.
My only comfort is this: these repulsive people have a teen daughter who is way beyond tomboy. I mean, she makes Rosie O'Donnell look like a simpering girly girl. She is the butchest kid I have ever seen. And I spent a lot of time at women's music festivals in the 90s.
And someday soon, she's going to bring home a girl to meet Mom and Dad. A girl that probably looks like a linebacker, and hopefully, can kick Dad's alcoholic ass.
I can't wait.
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