Last night at the hotline, we watched Dreamworlds 3: Desire, Sex & Power in Music Video, which was fascinating in all sorts of ways.
The cover of the video on that page is a scene in a Limp Bizkit video of a song delightfully titled "Eat You Alive." In the video, Fred Durst has a bullhorn and is yelling at a girl who hasn't returned his lust and forces her to sit there and listen to him screaming out his anger at the situation.
Hey you, Mrs. too-good-to-look-my-way and that's cool you want nothing at all to do with me.
But I want you, ain't nothing wrong with wanting you cause I'm a man and I can think what the hell I want, you got that straight?
No doubt that (no doubt) I'd love to (I'd love) sniff on them panties now....
This is, of course, only up until the sweet part of the song where he romantically sings about just wanting to look at her until she gets a cute sparkle in her eye and is loving it. And then, we return to screaming at her. If you youtube the video and watch it, please take note of the beautiful flowers sitting next to the girl who is out in the forest with a band full of angry musicians and Fred Durst screaming in her face. Gives it a nice, romantic feel, don't ya think?
This is the part where I think, "I'd like to not listen to any and all music that is such complete shit." But holy hell, I'd have to boycott everything but Christian music. In the video we watched, from pop stars to country stars to hip-hip stars, each and every video revolves around the idea that women are:
a. unproportionately physically hot
b. there to please a man
c. incapable of functioning until a man swoops in and fixes things
d. nothing more than something with an ass crack that you can swipe an ATM card through for a laugh (there are a frightening number of videos in which this is done)
e-z: any and all of the other objectifications one can come up with for women
In one scene, we watched different women stand against the wall of a tour bas in either bikinis or entirely naked, while band members and roadies threw lunchmeat at them and laughed and giggled when they stuck to their asses.
Lunchmeat, people. It's apparently the hip rock 'n roll thing to do to open a package of bologna and throw it against some woman's bare ass. It's entertaining. And funny. And a good time. But really, all it is is taking something that's about as non-sexual as it gets and making it sexual in what you really can't argue is anything but a degrading way. Kind of like Led Zeppelin fucking a woman with a frozen fish. Whether the entire thing was shoved in her as some sources state, whether it was shark meat, whether it was just the nose of the fish, whether she was lovin' it or not...whatever happened, I've never nor will I ever, believe it was done for the sexual gratification of that woman. It was done because a bunch of coked out rock 'n rollers thought it'd be fun to use a woman and frozen fucking fish to get their rocks off.
But the point in the video that affected me the most was a single photograph, which I've managed to find online, taken in 2001 during Seattle's Mardi Gras celebration (something I'm embarrassed to say I hadn't even heard of until this video). I'm posting it here because it's been altered to at least protect her identify. And it's powerfully repulsive.
Check out the horror here
Then we cut right back to music videos where the people singing are doing the exact. same. thing. Sure, in videos, the women have bikinis on but really, the touching is exactly the same as in this photograph. It's amazing. Yet in the videos, it's overlooked. Nobody raises concerns when they see rap stars slappin' the asses of strippers and Snoop talkin' about "breakin' those hoes"? Where's the outrage there? In the Puerto Rican photos, a lot of them involve water and women being sprayed with hoses and water bottles, etc. Cut to music videos where women are constantly being sprayed with fire hoses or more often, champagne bottles. Seriously, music industry, I get it...your semen is the most valuable fucking thing out there and there are tons of things you can use in place of it since you can't actually cum on my face to music and sell it as a fucking video. I get it. The entire fuckin' world gets it. Knock it the fuck off.
This is the shit that baffles my mind and leads me to question those things like, "how do I do whatever I need to do to combat that?" What can I do other than write about it and maybe start ignoring most of any music even remotely mainstream (which I kind of do, simply because I don't listen to radio nor watch music videos). I can't boycott everything. And I can't shut myself off to the world nor do I want to. But if that's the case, how do I go about trying to fix it? What the hell can I do to even attempt to start chipping away at something that is so cemented into our culture?
I feel good after I hang up after taking a call at the hotline. I feel good when someone says, "thank you" before we hang up. Because I feel like I've helped, like I've done something. I can't look at that photograph without fighting back tears and I'm not really sure if it's purely because of the image and my inability to understand why the horde of men surrounding the woman look nothing but content and happy. Or because of how absolutely powerless it makes me feel.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
perhaps I'm losing my mind...
but lately on the my alumni board, the big "to do" has been this mess about Obama and his pastor. About which my basic feelings are:
- Since when is it my responsibility to make sure someone else thinks the same way I do?
- I have some family members who don’t think the same way I do. Should I write off any and all of their good qualities because of their bad ones? Or because I should be afraid of what other people may think of me for being associated with them?
- Why hasn’t the Catholic church crumbed to the ground in the wake of a bunch of priests jerkin’ off little kids behind the lectern? Because as warped and dangerous as I think it may be, there are plenty of people out there who believe in the message of the church despite whomever "god’s representative" is who is giving the message.
One of the responses to me today was:
Go to Obama's church website, www.tucc.org, then go to the about us, read that, then tell me that it doesn't sound similar to a Ku Klux Klan message.
To which I responded with:
Easy enough. It doesn't sound similar to a Ku Klux Klan message. The message of the Ku Klux Klan is based on the idea that whites are the ones responsible for building the greatness that is this country and that whites should be the only ones to benefit from said greatness. A concept that is inherently false, thanks to the fact that for a period of time, those who did build this country’s foundations were forced to until someone finally spoke up and said, "oh my god, black people are people, not property." Nowhere in the "about us" section did I get the impression this church thinks blacks should be the ones running the show because they deserve it and because they're the superior race. Which is pretty much the opposite of Ku Klux Klan thinking."
Yet another person responded to me with:
So what do you think the headlines would be if a white candidate was a member of the congregation that "trust in God through cultural expression of a WHITE worship service and ministries which address the WHITE Community" It is exactly KKK-ish. It also runs against the premise that the black/African-Americans have been demanding. Equality. Yet this church seeks to specifically separate blacks from other individuals. Apparently, after all this fighting for equal rights, they found out that it was a case of the grass being greener on the other side of the fence - now that the fence was taken down, they found out its only greener because of the weeds.
What the hell? Am I the only one who sees some similarities here with the whole Bush / Hitler comparison? The simple sight of W’s face makes me violent and I think he’s the most incompetent president this poor country’s ever seen. But I think the Bush / Hitler comparison is kinda nuts. Kinda like this one. In what world does comparing this guy’s church to an organization who, throughout history, has used pure violence to accomplish their mission of racial purity, make any sense?
Is it just me? I’m entirely open to hearing other arguments here so hit me with whatever you’ve got. But right now, I’m just not understanding.
- Since when is it my responsibility to make sure someone else thinks the same way I do?
- I have some family members who don’t think the same way I do. Should I write off any and all of their good qualities because of their bad ones? Or because I should be afraid of what other people may think of me for being associated with them?
- Why hasn’t the Catholic church crumbed to the ground in the wake of a bunch of priests jerkin’ off little kids behind the lectern? Because as warped and dangerous as I think it may be, there are plenty of people out there who believe in the message of the church despite whomever "god’s representative" is who is giving the message.
One of the responses to me today was:
Go to Obama's church website, www.tucc.org, then go to the about us, read that, then tell me that it doesn't sound similar to a Ku Klux Klan message.
To which I responded with:
Easy enough. It doesn't sound similar to a Ku Klux Klan message. The message of the Ku Klux Klan is based on the idea that whites are the ones responsible for building the greatness that is this country and that whites should be the only ones to benefit from said greatness. A concept that is inherently false, thanks to the fact that for a period of time, those who did build this country’s foundations were forced to until someone finally spoke up and said, "oh my god, black people are people, not property." Nowhere in the "about us" section did I get the impression this church thinks blacks should be the ones running the show because they deserve it and because they're the superior race. Which is pretty much the opposite of Ku Klux Klan thinking."
Yet another person responded to me with:
So what do you think the headlines would be if a white candidate was a member of the congregation that "trust in God through cultural expression of a WHITE worship service and ministries which address the WHITE Community" It is exactly KKK-ish. It also runs against the premise that the black/African-Americans have been demanding. Equality. Yet this church seeks to specifically separate blacks from other individuals. Apparently, after all this fighting for equal rights, they found out that it was a case of the grass being greener on the other side of the fence - now that the fence was taken down, they found out its only greener because of the weeds.
What the hell? Am I the only one who sees some similarities here with the whole Bush / Hitler comparison? The simple sight of W’s face makes me violent and I think he’s the most incompetent president this poor country’s ever seen. But I think the Bush / Hitler comparison is kinda nuts. Kinda like this one. In what world does comparing this guy’s church to an organization who, throughout history, has used pure violence to accomplish their mission of racial purity, make any sense?
Is it just me? I’m entirely open to hearing other arguments here so hit me with whatever you’ve got. But right now, I’m just not understanding.
Monday, March 10, 2008
what's it worth to ya?
I try to keep up a bit with politics in New York simply because they affect people I love. Even if that weren't the case, I would have still heard about the latest political scandal: Eliot Spitzer having had some involvement in prostitution.
Usually, I can't even articulate how little I care about what other people do in their bedrooms (or whatever rooms in which they decide to get freaky). I care in the sense that it fascinates me the way others view and relate to sex but I don't care in the sense of, "oooh, did you hear what those two did?" What the fuck do I care? My general outlook on all things sex-related is "if it's consensual, have at it." This applies to everyone, including those constantly in the public eye. Actually, especially those in the public eye. Before we're anything else; mothers, daughters, fathers, sons, political folk, celebrities, employees, etc...we're people. People with parts that feel good when they rub up against someone else's parts. They don't feel good because they're about to make a baby, they feel good because that's just the way our bodies work. Hell, even if good ol' Bill had shoved cigars up the bajingos of every intern in the place as part of a white-house-wide orgy, I wouldn't have cared less, provided each and every one of those interns was capable of making the decision to take part in that orgy. Had he and Hillary been in a marriage that they had agreed would be monogamous, it would have perhaps been...less than classy of him to have a white house orgy, but it wouldn't have been anybody's business but his, Hillary's, and whomever else part of the orgy.
I do, however, have mixed emotions about prostitution. I used to think it should be legal. I understand the idea of its regulation helping toward de-stigmatizing it but I don't necessarily think paying someone to spread whatever hole you pay them to spread should be de-stigmatized. And I understand that perhaps if it's regulated, prostitutes wouldn't be at such risk when it comes to their health. But to me, my mental health is equally as important as my physical health. And for society to tell me day in and day out that my time and my body and the person I am is only worth the orgasm it can help someone else have is absolutely damaging to my mental health. I'm not about to place that little value on myself and I'm surely not about to support society doing the same.
Even though I can understand the arguments given by those who think it should be legal, I'm no longer able to wrap my head around the idea of placing monetary value on my naughty bits. Which is a belief that can sometimes be difficult to stand by because I'm not against porn and let's face it...porn's all about what some woman's snatch is worth to a consumer and what seeing a gazillion different things happening to that snatch is worth to that consumer. During our rape crisis training, I said very little on the anti-porn day because I was the only woman in the room who doesn't think it's heinous. I read quite a bit about the anti-porn movement, thinking that perhaps I'm not understanding something or perhaps I'm just not as knowledgeable as I should be but I haven't changed my views on it yet. It'll always be something I'll question but I'm not sure my views on it will ever change much. Whether or not it's logical to separate my views on porn from my views on prostitution, I don't know. But for right now, I do.
To physically go out and say to a woman, "this hole is worth this much to me, that hole is worth this much to me" makes me want to wretch. I hesitate a bit to make the comparison, but it seems like we fought a pretty significant war over the idea of placing monetary value on human beings. To me, prostitution isn't much different than slavery. You're still putting me up on a block, showing off what you consider to be the worthiest parts of my body and auctioning them off to the highest bidder. At which point, they now own me, those body parts they thought were worthy of cash, and can use me, share me, or toss me aside in whatever way they see fit. Any way you look at it, it's pure cash for pure cunt. And any time you say that's perfectly acceptable, you're telling me a living, breathing human being can be broken down into nothing more than dollars and cents. Which I cannot. Nor should any woman. Nor should any man.
Had he gone out and simply had an affair that the media discovered, I wouldn't really care. I'd perhaps feel sorry for his family if sex outside of marriage wasn't something he and his wife had agreed upon beforehand. But it still wouldn't be my place to judge his choices.
But he didn't. Prostitution is illegal in New York State and personally, I think it's revolting. The fact that he actually put away people for taking part in the same thing in which he takes part is what I think is most revolting.
Usually, I can't even articulate how little I care about what other people do in their bedrooms (or whatever rooms in which they decide to get freaky). I care in the sense that it fascinates me the way others view and relate to sex but I don't care in the sense of, "oooh, did you hear what those two did?" What the fuck do I care? My general outlook on all things sex-related is "if it's consensual, have at it." This applies to everyone, including those constantly in the public eye. Actually, especially those in the public eye. Before we're anything else; mothers, daughters, fathers, sons, political folk, celebrities, employees, etc...we're people. People with parts that feel good when they rub up against someone else's parts. They don't feel good because they're about to make a baby, they feel good because that's just the way our bodies work. Hell, even if good ol' Bill had shoved cigars up the bajingos of every intern in the place as part of a white-house-wide orgy, I wouldn't have cared less, provided each and every one of those interns was capable of making the decision to take part in that orgy. Had he and Hillary been in a marriage that they had agreed would be monogamous, it would have perhaps been...less than classy of him to have a white house orgy, but it wouldn't have been anybody's business but his, Hillary's, and whomever else part of the orgy.
I do, however, have mixed emotions about prostitution. I used to think it should be legal. I understand the idea of its regulation helping toward de-stigmatizing it but I don't necessarily think paying someone to spread whatever hole you pay them to spread should be de-stigmatized. And I understand that perhaps if it's regulated, prostitutes wouldn't be at such risk when it comes to their health. But to me, my mental health is equally as important as my physical health. And for society to tell me day in and day out that my time and my body and the person I am is only worth the orgasm it can help someone else have is absolutely damaging to my mental health. I'm not about to place that little value on myself and I'm surely not about to support society doing the same.
Even though I can understand the arguments given by those who think it should be legal, I'm no longer able to wrap my head around the idea of placing monetary value on my naughty bits. Which is a belief that can sometimes be difficult to stand by because I'm not against porn and let's face it...porn's all about what some woman's snatch is worth to a consumer and what seeing a gazillion different things happening to that snatch is worth to that consumer. During our rape crisis training, I said very little on the anti-porn day because I was the only woman in the room who doesn't think it's heinous. I read quite a bit about the anti-porn movement, thinking that perhaps I'm not understanding something or perhaps I'm just not as knowledgeable as I should be but I haven't changed my views on it yet. It'll always be something I'll question but I'm not sure my views on it will ever change much. Whether or not it's logical to separate my views on porn from my views on prostitution, I don't know. But for right now, I do.
To physically go out and say to a woman, "this hole is worth this much to me, that hole is worth this much to me" makes me want to wretch. I hesitate a bit to make the comparison, but it seems like we fought a pretty significant war over the idea of placing monetary value on human beings. To me, prostitution isn't much different than slavery. You're still putting me up on a block, showing off what you consider to be the worthiest parts of my body and auctioning them off to the highest bidder. At which point, they now own me, those body parts they thought were worthy of cash, and can use me, share me, or toss me aside in whatever way they see fit. Any way you look at it, it's pure cash for pure cunt. And any time you say that's perfectly acceptable, you're telling me a living, breathing human being can be broken down into nothing more than dollars and cents. Which I cannot. Nor should any woman. Nor should any man.
Had he gone out and simply had an affair that the media discovered, I wouldn't really care. I'd perhaps feel sorry for his family if sex outside of marriage wasn't something he and his wife had agreed upon beforehand. But it still wouldn't be my place to judge his choices.
But he didn't. Prostitution is illegal in New York State and personally, I think it's revolting. The fact that he actually put away people for taking part in the same thing in which he takes part is what I think is most revolting.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
when the road gets dark and you can no longer see
I'm reading To Love, Honor and Betray: The Secret Life of Suburban Wives because it was a bargain book and looked interesting. And it is.
My mom called Thursday night and told me that my dad had sent her carnations (her favorite) to work that morning and in the afternoon, called her and told her not to start dinner until he got home that night. He came home with salad, dinner, and dessert for them to share from our favorite restaurant in Rochester.
Neither of my parents are big on celebrating the people they love simply because of the date but he never forgets her birthday, never forgets Valentine's Day or Mother's Day. He does dishes for her, he vacuums, he helps her clean the house. Every now and then, she tells me what a good man he is and he tells me how lucky he knows he is to be with my mother, which, even though I've seen the more unpleasant sides to the both of them, I've known that goodness in the both of them since day one.
The drive home from my grandfather's funeral was about 3.5 hours, most of which my parents and brother and I filled with talking. At one point, my dad said, "your mother and I are in it for the long haul." I was driving and as he said that, I looked in the rear view mirror and saw my mom reach over and put her hand on his and her head on his shoulder. That night when we got home, Mom & I went out for a cigarette (we caved for a few weeks), I asked if I could ask her a question, which my mom always replies to with "you most certainly can." I asked if they're in it for the long haul because they have debt or because they feel like they have to or because they want to be. She replied with a smile and said, "that last one." And I believe her.
I saw on some commercial or read on a greeting card or in a book somewhere that the best love a father can give his children is to love their mother. As I get older, I realize the truth in that more and more. My parents are good people. They're fallable people, they can be unhappy, they can be miserable. Hell, they can be whatever they want to be but they're still good people. And the times they're good to each other far outweigh the times they aren't.
Every now and then, I wonder what kind of person I'd be had my mother moved out when she said she was going to when my brother and I were younger. I remember sitting in their bedroom and her telling the both of us that she was going to look for an apartment of her own. I remember feeling horrible for her and I remember thinking, "what will Dad do?" He'd been unemployed for quite awhile and depressed for most of it. He used to say, "I'm gonna go for a drive" and I used to sit in the chair knowing that when he did that, he drove around Keuka Lake and I would sit there in the chair and try not to worry that he was gonna just drive right into the lake and that'd be it. But it's all I could ever think about.
My mom never did leave, my dad wound up getting a job, and despite that and tons of other rough spots, I do believe they're in it for the long haul because they want to be. As I'm reading this book, I smile now and then and think about how even if my mom had found herself wanting to have an affair, she hasn't. And I don't believe she ever will. I don't believe she resents my father, I don't believe she feels like she missed out on a better life, I don't believe she wishes she were someone else or married to someone else or not married at all. And I don't believe my father feels any of those things either.
When I start to wonder about what a different person I'd be had different things happened as I was growing up, I eventually remind myself that it's entirely pointless to do so. I believe in nurture more than I do nature. I grew up in a home with parents and a brother who have always loved me (even if I questioned that love, at times, I know it was there) and whom I've always loved. I don't think it would have been nearly the nurturing environment it was had my parents not been in it for the right reasons. And even if there were points where they wondered whether or not the "long haul" was in the cards for them, somewhere deep down, I think they knew it was. And is.
My mom called Thursday night and told me that my dad had sent her carnations (her favorite) to work that morning and in the afternoon, called her and told her not to start dinner until he got home that night. He came home with salad, dinner, and dessert for them to share from our favorite restaurant in Rochester.
Neither of my parents are big on celebrating the people they love simply because of the date but he never forgets her birthday, never forgets Valentine's Day or Mother's Day. He does dishes for her, he vacuums, he helps her clean the house. Every now and then, she tells me what a good man he is and he tells me how lucky he knows he is to be with my mother, which, even though I've seen the more unpleasant sides to the both of them, I've known that goodness in the both of them since day one.
The drive home from my grandfather's funeral was about 3.5 hours, most of which my parents and brother and I filled with talking. At one point, my dad said, "your mother and I are in it for the long haul." I was driving and as he said that, I looked in the rear view mirror and saw my mom reach over and put her hand on his and her head on his shoulder. That night when we got home, Mom & I went out for a cigarette (we caved for a few weeks), I asked if I could ask her a question, which my mom always replies to with "you most certainly can." I asked if they're in it for the long haul because they have debt or because they feel like they have to or because they want to be. She replied with a smile and said, "that last one." And I believe her.
I saw on some commercial or read on a greeting card or in a book somewhere that the best love a father can give his children is to love their mother. As I get older, I realize the truth in that more and more. My parents are good people. They're fallable people, they can be unhappy, they can be miserable. Hell, they can be whatever they want to be but they're still good people. And the times they're good to each other far outweigh the times they aren't.
Every now and then, I wonder what kind of person I'd be had my mother moved out when she said she was going to when my brother and I were younger. I remember sitting in their bedroom and her telling the both of us that she was going to look for an apartment of her own. I remember feeling horrible for her and I remember thinking, "what will Dad do?" He'd been unemployed for quite awhile and depressed for most of it. He used to say, "I'm gonna go for a drive" and I used to sit in the chair knowing that when he did that, he drove around Keuka Lake and I would sit there in the chair and try not to worry that he was gonna just drive right into the lake and that'd be it. But it's all I could ever think about.
My mom never did leave, my dad wound up getting a job, and despite that and tons of other rough spots, I do believe they're in it for the long haul because they want to be. As I'm reading this book, I smile now and then and think about how even if my mom had found herself wanting to have an affair, she hasn't. And I don't believe she ever will. I don't believe she resents my father, I don't believe she feels like she missed out on a better life, I don't believe she wishes she were someone else or married to someone else or not married at all. And I don't believe my father feels any of those things either.
When I start to wonder about what a different person I'd be had different things happened as I was growing up, I eventually remind myself that it's entirely pointless to do so. I believe in nurture more than I do nature. I grew up in a home with parents and a brother who have always loved me (even if I questioned that love, at times, I know it was there) and whom I've always loved. I don't think it would have been nearly the nurturing environment it was had my parents not been in it for the right reasons. And even if there were points where they wondered whether or not the "long haul" was in the cards for them, somewhere deep down, I think they knew it was. And is.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
ah, the new year
Christmas this year was...different. Parts of it put it on my "worst of" list, parts of it put it on my "best of" list.
Everything went...as expected in regards to my grandfather's passing. My mom and Aunt Nan were the daughters closest to him and many times over the years he told me, "I only keep fighting because of those 2 girls," which I know is the absolute truth. When my grandmother died six years ago, he was ready to go right with her. Ever since, any time he'd bring her up, it was obvious how much he missed her every single day. For my grandpa and I, that was a...shared bond between us. My brother has always and will always be the favorite of both of my grandfathers and I've always been the favorite of my Grandma Marion (the one who died six years ago). He knew that and he's always known the relationship we shared, so it's been one of those "little things" we shared. I've never wanted anything from him or my grandmother but my grandmother left me her engagement ring and he told my mother to make sure I get any and all of the photos I wanted that were in his apartment. He had his and my grandmother's wedding photo on his wall in a beautiful frame, which is now hanging in my apartment. My grandmother could be a miserable, mean woman and I think very few people loved her unconditionally...my mother, my grandfather, and myself. The rational side of me thinks that when we die, we die. That's it. We don't float up to heaven or hell, we don't haunt the people we didn't get with in life, we don't look over those we leave behind; we're just gone. But the only way for any of us to really get through losing him is to imagine he's with grandma, which is the only place he's ever wanted to be.
I did pretty well hanging on until we got up North for the calling hours up there and the funeral and burial, the latter of which is where I really lost it. I'd never been to a military funeral before and as soon as taps started playing, my aunt just lost it, which was fucking gut-wrenching. When they folded the flag, the guy walked over to my mom and gave her the "this is presented to you on behalf of the President of the United States in honor of Jack's honorable service to his country" speech and handed her the flag. At which point, she got up, turned to my Aunt Nan and told her it was for her. From that moment until we all got in our cars to drive back home, she never let go of it. She was the baby in the family and although he often told my mother "you're my first born," (one of my other aunts wasn't his biological daughter but my grandmother's), I think there was a special place in Grandpa's heart for his baby girl and my aunt and uncle were the ones who took care of him. My dad and I were talking about it at one point and for almost all of their adult life, my aunt and uncle had someone living with them. They took care of my uncle's mother for 7 years and my grandmother and grandfather lived there for a good many years, my grandfather having moved back toward the end. As difficult as it was to lose my last grandparent, watching both her and my mom deal with losing their other parent was ten times worse.
Since it was the middle of December in the Adirondack region, it was fucking freezing and there was snow on the ground. So after the burial and while people were...consoling and hugging and all that, I went over to their tombstone, brushed the snow off my grandmother's side to see her name and talk to her, and just stood there and cried. At which point, my brother came over, put his arm around me, and cried with me. I told him how I hate the thought of not having any grandparents left and the thought that most likely, that means my parents are next, which is not something I can even remotely begin to comprehend happening. And he said he thought the same thing and feels the same way. Which was one of the moments that put this year in my "best of" category. My brother lost a good friend...a couple years ago now, I think, and ever since, it's really obvious that he's a changed man. He'd never been someone to show emotion, he'd never been one to really say "I love you." When I hugged him goodbye as he was getting into his car, I told him I loved him and he told me he loves me. Not in the joking around or the half-assed "love ya" kind of way but in a way that I can't really describe. Before we'd headed up north, my dad told me how grandpa never failed to ask about us kids when my parents were up there and one time, he asked about Andy and my dad filled him in that the restaurant was going well and things are going well with Chelsea (his girlfriend) and Brianna (her daughter) and my grandfather looked at my dad and said so matter-of-factly, "he's a man now." My dad told him that story at the funeral home and I think it made my brother proud. In my Christmas Crossword puzzle last year, my clue for him was "the #1 thing I feel for my brother," the answer to which was "proud." I think it's something my brother hasn't felt a lot of. He fucked around a lot when he was younger and in school and was in trouble often and has never been one to really apply himself in many way. But as he's getting older, I think he's realizing what a phenomenal individual he is and I think he takes pride in the fact that my dad brags about us kids and Grandpa thought the world of him, and that his family loves him, whether he's a fucked up kid or a fantastic 35-year-old man. I think he's finally decided to let people give a shit about him and I think he realizes it's because we genuinely care. And I think he genuinely cares in return.
The weekend after the funeral, we took Briana for the weekend and as shocked as I am to say it, I adore the little girl. She's 6 and a bit of a pisser sometimes but when she's at my parents' house, she is the best kid I've ever met. We played with Play-Doh and we played on her little learning computer, and we watched holiday specials, and if I didn't know better, I'd almost say my uterus skipped a beat here and there. Her and Chelsea put her school picture in a frame and painted it blue and glued the word "family" on the bottom and it was among the bestest ever presents my parents have ever received. It bothers me a bit that she's getting to really form relationships with my parents and even with Aunt Nan and my cousins but I'm probably always going to be "Andy's sister" who she sees two or three times a year. My brother seems genuinely happy with where he is in life, which is so fantastic.
Last Christmas, my mom pulled me aside one afternoon and gave me back the engagement ring my grandmother left to me when she died. Although she had left it to me, my mom had asked me if she could just wear it for awhile, which was of course, perfectly okay. But last year, she felt it was time to give it to me but I couldn't wear it because it was too big and there wasn't really enough time to get it fixed before coming back to Chicago. And I didn't want to put it in my purse or stash it away anywhere while traveling, so I left it at home. But this year when I got back to New York, we took it over to the jeweler's and part of my Christmas present was my mom paying to have it re-sized for me. So I now get to wear it (on my right hand, of course) every day and it was the best Christmas present ever.
I've decided I'm going to start taking a week's vacation every summer to go back to New York and go to the camp my grandparents built when they got married. It now belongs to my mom and her 3 sisters and my parents are going to start spending some time there, along with hopefully, Andy, Chelsea, and Briana. In the summers, my grandma and I used to sit at the kitchen table and play rummy and Sorry and Uno and Scrabble, in between baking. Every morning, we got up early and walked around the lake and stopped at the little store on the way home where she let me get whatever toy caught my eye. I love the idea of giving Briana that same experience. It's a peaceful place, surrounded by trees and water and very few people and I think going every year with my family will be a really great way to...I don't know. I think each one of us appreciates every day what we have as a family but I cherish those "special" times that are thrown in here and there. So I intend to make sure there are as many of those as possible.
I hope all of your holidays were delightfully...I'm finding alliteration a bit difficult tonight. I hope they were lovely for all of you :)
Everything went...as expected in regards to my grandfather's passing. My mom and Aunt Nan were the daughters closest to him and many times over the years he told me, "I only keep fighting because of those 2 girls," which I know is the absolute truth. When my grandmother died six years ago, he was ready to go right with her. Ever since, any time he'd bring her up, it was obvious how much he missed her every single day. For my grandpa and I, that was a...shared bond between us. My brother has always and will always be the favorite of both of my grandfathers and I've always been the favorite of my Grandma Marion (the one who died six years ago). He knew that and he's always known the relationship we shared, so it's been one of those "little things" we shared. I've never wanted anything from him or my grandmother but my grandmother left me her engagement ring and he told my mother to make sure I get any and all of the photos I wanted that were in his apartment. He had his and my grandmother's wedding photo on his wall in a beautiful frame, which is now hanging in my apartment. My grandmother could be a miserable, mean woman and I think very few people loved her unconditionally...my mother, my grandfather, and myself. The rational side of me thinks that when we die, we die. That's it. We don't float up to heaven or hell, we don't haunt the people we didn't get with in life, we don't look over those we leave behind; we're just gone. But the only way for any of us to really get through losing him is to imagine he's with grandma, which is the only place he's ever wanted to be.
I did pretty well hanging on until we got up North for the calling hours up there and the funeral and burial, the latter of which is where I really lost it. I'd never been to a military funeral before and as soon as taps started playing, my aunt just lost it, which was fucking gut-wrenching. When they folded the flag, the guy walked over to my mom and gave her the "this is presented to you on behalf of the President of the United States in honor of Jack's honorable service to his country" speech and handed her the flag. At which point, she got up, turned to my Aunt Nan and told her it was for her. From that moment until we all got in our cars to drive back home, she never let go of it. She was the baby in the family and although he often told my mother "you're my first born," (one of my other aunts wasn't his biological daughter but my grandmother's), I think there was a special place in Grandpa's heart for his baby girl and my aunt and uncle were the ones who took care of him. My dad and I were talking about it at one point and for almost all of their adult life, my aunt and uncle had someone living with them. They took care of my uncle's mother for 7 years and my grandmother and grandfather lived there for a good many years, my grandfather having moved back toward the end. As difficult as it was to lose my last grandparent, watching both her and my mom deal with losing their other parent was ten times worse.
Since it was the middle of December in the Adirondack region, it was fucking freezing and there was snow on the ground. So after the burial and while people were...consoling and hugging and all that, I went over to their tombstone, brushed the snow off my grandmother's side to see her name and talk to her, and just stood there and cried. At which point, my brother came over, put his arm around me, and cried with me. I told him how I hate the thought of not having any grandparents left and the thought that most likely, that means my parents are next, which is not something I can even remotely begin to comprehend happening. And he said he thought the same thing and feels the same way. Which was one of the moments that put this year in my "best of" category. My brother lost a good friend...a couple years ago now, I think, and ever since, it's really obvious that he's a changed man. He'd never been someone to show emotion, he'd never been one to really say "I love you." When I hugged him goodbye as he was getting into his car, I told him I loved him and he told me he loves me. Not in the joking around or the half-assed "love ya" kind of way but in a way that I can't really describe. Before we'd headed up north, my dad told me how grandpa never failed to ask about us kids when my parents were up there and one time, he asked about Andy and my dad filled him in that the restaurant was going well and things are going well with Chelsea (his girlfriend) and Brianna (her daughter) and my grandfather looked at my dad and said so matter-of-factly, "he's a man now." My dad told him that story at the funeral home and I think it made my brother proud. In my Christmas Crossword puzzle last year, my clue for him was "the #1 thing I feel for my brother," the answer to which was "proud." I think it's something my brother hasn't felt a lot of. He fucked around a lot when he was younger and in school and was in trouble often and has never been one to really apply himself in many way. But as he's getting older, I think he's realizing what a phenomenal individual he is and I think he takes pride in the fact that my dad brags about us kids and Grandpa thought the world of him, and that his family loves him, whether he's a fucked up kid or a fantastic 35-year-old man. I think he's finally decided to let people give a shit about him and I think he realizes it's because we genuinely care. And I think he genuinely cares in return.
The weekend after the funeral, we took Briana for the weekend and as shocked as I am to say it, I adore the little girl. She's 6 and a bit of a pisser sometimes but when she's at my parents' house, she is the best kid I've ever met. We played with Play-Doh and we played on her little learning computer, and we watched holiday specials, and if I didn't know better, I'd almost say my uterus skipped a beat here and there. Her and Chelsea put her school picture in a frame and painted it blue and glued the word "family" on the bottom and it was among the bestest ever presents my parents have ever received. It bothers me a bit that she's getting to really form relationships with my parents and even with Aunt Nan and my cousins but I'm probably always going to be "Andy's sister" who she sees two or three times a year. My brother seems genuinely happy with where he is in life, which is so fantastic.
Last Christmas, my mom pulled me aside one afternoon and gave me back the engagement ring my grandmother left to me when she died. Although she had left it to me, my mom had asked me if she could just wear it for awhile, which was of course, perfectly okay. But last year, she felt it was time to give it to me but I couldn't wear it because it was too big and there wasn't really enough time to get it fixed before coming back to Chicago. And I didn't want to put it in my purse or stash it away anywhere while traveling, so I left it at home. But this year when I got back to New York, we took it over to the jeweler's and part of my Christmas present was my mom paying to have it re-sized for me. So I now get to wear it (on my right hand, of course) every day and it was the best Christmas present ever.
I've decided I'm going to start taking a week's vacation every summer to go back to New York and go to the camp my grandparents built when they got married. It now belongs to my mom and her 3 sisters and my parents are going to start spending some time there, along with hopefully, Andy, Chelsea, and Briana. In the summers, my grandma and I used to sit at the kitchen table and play rummy and Sorry and Uno and Scrabble, in between baking. Every morning, we got up early and walked around the lake and stopped at the little store on the way home where she let me get whatever toy caught my eye. I love the idea of giving Briana that same experience. It's a peaceful place, surrounded by trees and water and very few people and I think going every year with my family will be a really great way to...I don't know. I think each one of us appreciates every day what we have as a family but I cherish those "special" times that are thrown in here and there. So I intend to make sure there are as many of those as possible.
I hope all of your holidays were delightfully...I'm finding alliteration a bit difficult tonight. I hope they were lovely for all of you :)
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
The Bottom Line: The Chicago Transit Authority
I’m a Virgo so I’m a list girl. So let’s go through a list of the most ridiculous things about this clusterfuck that is the CTA situation in this city.
- This sentence in my "get ready for next week" email. We are asking all of our customers to avoid the rush hour whenever possible by leaving early or late.
This burns me because I fucking hate when people assume that perhaps because they can do something, others can too. I’m lucky enough where I can do this if I wind up needing to. My bosses generally don’t care if I’m here at 7 a.m. or 10 a.m., as long as I get my shit done. But the majority of people in this city, I don’t believe, have bosses that say, "hey, get here whenever ya can, okay?" Most people can’t just stroll into work later in the morning because it would be easier on their commute. Lots of things could make commutes easier for employees but most employers don’t give a shit about that. For those of us with employers who do, we’re really fucking lucky.
- The fact that everyone is blaming Springfield. Personally, I think Springfield does tend to fuck over the city whenever they can because they know they can, which blows. But I don’t necessarily believe it’s Springfield’s responsibility to fund our transportation system. I think they should play a major part, sure. But it’s not "their fault." If Douchebag Daley wasn’t busy putting cameras on every other corner and having parties at his plaza when the Cubs win a game that’s like 6 games removed from actually getting them to the World Series and bending over for any and everyone with any say about where the Olympics will be held, perhaps we wouldn’t be having this problem, hmm? If anybody who was anywhere near the top of the chain of command here had their fucking priorities straight, this wouldn’t be such a serious issue for so many people.
- The bus routes they’re cutting. Are they the bus routes that connect the burbs to the city? No. Are they the bus routes that connect north side neighborhoods to downtown? Not really. Are they bus routes that connect southsiders to downtown and connect areas of downtown and the Loop to each other? Mostly, yes. When shit like this happens, it almost always has the greatest effect on people who are the least capable of managing it and who have the fewest resources available to them in order to help try and manage it.
- The idea of charging more during rush hour. This seems like a fairly obvious and easy decision but to me, really just screams, "you may be going to work so you can live the American dream (which we encourage, go USA!) but we’re going to make that a little harder on you because we can’t work a fucking budget." Thanks to my handy-dandy DVR, I watched a documentary the other day about Wal-Mart and its effect on society and the economy and one woman who worked there basically worked her 20 hours a week to get a paycheck and then turned around and gave it right back to Wal-Mart so she could buy shampoo for $.25 and socks for $.10. I don’t believe people should have things handed to them. I believe in hard work and I believe in taking some sense of pride in whatever work it is you do. But it only gets harder and harder for people to give a shit about what they do for a living when at every turn, someone is trying to take a little more money out of you or telling you to work just a little bit harder for a bit fewer perks.
I’m bitching and moaning about it and the whole thing is going to have a fairly minimal effect on me. The #22 bus (one of the very last routes I think they would cut) and the #145 bus (which could possibly be cut in January) are pretty much right outside my door. I could also walk under a mile to one of two Brown Line stops and be dropped off right across the river from where I work. So if I have to change it up from my usual #22 bus ride, I can. Although I’d rather not, I am, fortunately, one of the people who can change up her work hours too. Hell, come January, I’ll probably avoid much of rush hour anyway since I work in a field where from January to April, I may as well have a tattoo on my ass that reads "Property of the IRS." I also can afford to use the Chicago Card and have it reload to a credit card when it needs to, as opposed to paying more with cash or a transit card, which saves me a few cents.
So really, others will suffer much more than I will but hell, it still pisses me right off. I hate to think of the people whose bus routes will be cut entirely and for those whom tacking on $.50 or a $1.00 to their commute will have a serious affect on their finances.
The Bottom Line: Get your priorities straight. Figure out that in order to support your city, the people who live in it need to work. And in order to work, they need to get there. You’re a major city, for god’s sake. Get your shit together.
- This sentence in my "get ready for next week" email. We are asking all of our customers to avoid the rush hour whenever possible by leaving early or late.
This burns me because I fucking hate when people assume that perhaps because they can do something, others can too. I’m lucky enough where I can do this if I wind up needing to. My bosses generally don’t care if I’m here at 7 a.m. or 10 a.m., as long as I get my shit done. But the majority of people in this city, I don’t believe, have bosses that say, "hey, get here whenever ya can, okay?" Most people can’t just stroll into work later in the morning because it would be easier on their commute. Lots of things could make commutes easier for employees but most employers don’t give a shit about that. For those of us with employers who do, we’re really fucking lucky.
- The fact that everyone is blaming Springfield. Personally, I think Springfield does tend to fuck over the city whenever they can because they know they can, which blows. But I don’t necessarily believe it’s Springfield’s responsibility to fund our transportation system. I think they should play a major part, sure. But it’s not "their fault." If Douchebag Daley wasn’t busy putting cameras on every other corner and having parties at his plaza when the Cubs win a game that’s like 6 games removed from actually getting them to the World Series and bending over for any and everyone with any say about where the Olympics will be held, perhaps we wouldn’t be having this problem, hmm? If anybody who was anywhere near the top of the chain of command here had their fucking priorities straight, this wouldn’t be such a serious issue for so many people.
- The bus routes they’re cutting. Are they the bus routes that connect the burbs to the city? No. Are they the bus routes that connect north side neighborhoods to downtown? Not really. Are they bus routes that connect southsiders to downtown and connect areas of downtown and the Loop to each other? Mostly, yes. When shit like this happens, it almost always has the greatest effect on people who are the least capable of managing it and who have the fewest resources available to them in order to help try and manage it.
- The idea of charging more during rush hour. This seems like a fairly obvious and easy decision but to me, really just screams, "you may be going to work so you can live the American dream (which we encourage, go USA!) but we’re going to make that a little harder on you because we can’t work a fucking budget." Thanks to my handy-dandy DVR, I watched a documentary the other day about Wal-Mart and its effect on society and the economy and one woman who worked there basically worked her 20 hours a week to get a paycheck and then turned around and gave it right back to Wal-Mart so she could buy shampoo for $.25 and socks for $.10. I don’t believe people should have things handed to them. I believe in hard work and I believe in taking some sense of pride in whatever work it is you do. But it only gets harder and harder for people to give a shit about what they do for a living when at every turn, someone is trying to take a little more money out of you or telling you to work just a little bit harder for a bit fewer perks.
I’m bitching and moaning about it and the whole thing is going to have a fairly minimal effect on me. The #22 bus (one of the very last routes I think they would cut) and the #145 bus (which could possibly be cut in January) are pretty much right outside my door. I could also walk under a mile to one of two Brown Line stops and be dropped off right across the river from where I work. So if I have to change it up from my usual #22 bus ride, I can. Although I’d rather not, I am, fortunately, one of the people who can change up her work hours too. Hell, come January, I’ll probably avoid much of rush hour anyway since I work in a field where from January to April, I may as well have a tattoo on my ass that reads "Property of the IRS." I also can afford to use the Chicago Card and have it reload to a credit card when it needs to, as opposed to paying more with cash or a transit card, which saves me a few cents.
So really, others will suffer much more than I will but hell, it still pisses me right off. I hate to think of the people whose bus routes will be cut entirely and for those whom tacking on $.50 or a $1.00 to their commute will have a serious affect on their finances.
The Bottom Line: Get your priorities straight. Figure out that in order to support your city, the people who live in it need to work. And in order to work, they need to get there. You’re a major city, for god’s sake. Get your shit together.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
oy vey
Janelle's entry connecting the Michael Vick scandal with rape in general somehow made me think of the news stories about teenage boys and the hot teachers that have sex with them. Could we please stop calling this rape? It devalues the victims of violent rape, IMHO.
"Willing Participant" is the default value for most teenage boys (including myself, moot as it was). Women who are violently raped often don't report it out of shame (whether misplaced or not), whereas banging the 24 year old hottie teacher is bragging rights material. When we hear about the elderly English teacher with the horn-rimmed glasses having sex with teenage boys, then maybe "rape" would be a more appropriate term.
I know when he referred to "victims of violent rape," he was referring to those who walk away from the situation physically bloody and battered and bruised. But I think it still somewhat indicates the general idea a lot of people have that rape usually happens when some crazy man jumps out of the pushes, shoves a gun in your face, and pummels you while he rapes you.
Does it happen? Sure. Are most reported cases of rape that kind of rape? Nope.
I consider all rape violent. Any time a person takes away another person’s power and control over his / her own life, I consider that an act of violence. Power-reassurance rapists tend to consider themselves to be "lovers" of their victims and will often talk to the victim while it’s happening and won’t use an awful lot of physical violence. But to me, if someone shoves himself into me without my having asked for it…I don’t care how "nice" he treats me or that he’s not punching me while he’s doing it, he’s still being violent and I’ve been a victim of violence.
I’m also seeing two paragraphs full of words here but all I’m reading is "teenage boys are unrapeable."
Which I think is an entirely crazy and dangerous mentality. I think believing any group of people is "unrapeable" is dangerous. Hell, until the 1970s, most states believed wives were unrapeable. In some states, there are still specific requirements that need to be met within spousal situations in order for it to be considered a crime and in quite a few instances, the wife needs to have reported the rape within a certain amount of time. Because as we all know, rape victims usually run directly to the police station immediately after being raped so that they can get down to business re-living it and fighting the good and easy fight of punishing a rapist. How quickly do you think a woman in an abusive marriage is going to run to the police after her husband rapes her? Yeah. Not too quickly. Some people still believe men in general aren’t rapeable. If there’s no vagina, how can a person be raped? It’s simply amazing to me. It’s similar to the "but he was hard" or "she was wet" argument. How do you think sex works? Certain physiological things happen when two people are going at it…that’s partly what makes fucking so fun. A biogical reaction doesn’t equate to consent.
Teenage boys. Teenage girls. I don’t care who they are. And I don’t care how attractive the teacher is. If one takes advantage of the teacher / student relationship, breaking whatever laws the state may have regarding it, it’s a crime. It’s not something to be overlooked because of the "eh, boys will be boys!" mentality.
Bottom line: the "men have a penis and are therefore up for sex at any time" theory is completely retarded.
"Willing Participant" is the default value for most teenage boys (including myself, moot as it was). Women who are violently raped often don't report it out of shame (whether misplaced or not), whereas banging the 24 year old hottie teacher is bragging rights material. When we hear about the elderly English teacher with the horn-rimmed glasses having sex with teenage boys, then maybe "rape" would be a more appropriate term.
I know when he referred to "victims of violent rape," he was referring to those who walk away from the situation physically bloody and battered and bruised. But I think it still somewhat indicates the general idea a lot of people have that rape usually happens when some crazy man jumps out of the pushes, shoves a gun in your face, and pummels you while he rapes you.
Does it happen? Sure. Are most reported cases of rape that kind of rape? Nope.
I consider all rape violent. Any time a person takes away another person’s power and control over his / her own life, I consider that an act of violence. Power-reassurance rapists tend to consider themselves to be "lovers" of their victims and will often talk to the victim while it’s happening and won’t use an awful lot of physical violence. But to me, if someone shoves himself into me without my having asked for it…I don’t care how "nice" he treats me or that he’s not punching me while he’s doing it, he’s still being violent and I’ve been a victim of violence.
I’m also seeing two paragraphs full of words here but all I’m reading is "teenage boys are unrapeable."
Which I think is an entirely crazy and dangerous mentality. I think believing any group of people is "unrapeable" is dangerous. Hell, until the 1970s, most states believed wives were unrapeable. In some states, there are still specific requirements that need to be met within spousal situations in order for it to be considered a crime and in quite a few instances, the wife needs to have reported the rape within a certain amount of time. Because as we all know, rape victims usually run directly to the police station immediately after being raped so that they can get down to business re-living it and fighting the good and easy fight of punishing a rapist. How quickly do you think a woman in an abusive marriage is going to run to the police after her husband rapes her? Yeah. Not too quickly. Some people still believe men in general aren’t rapeable. If there’s no vagina, how can a person be raped? It’s simply amazing to me. It’s similar to the "but he was hard" or "she was wet" argument. How do you think sex works? Certain physiological things happen when two people are going at it…that’s partly what makes fucking so fun. A biogical reaction doesn’t equate to consent.
Teenage boys. Teenage girls. I don’t care who they are. And I don’t care how attractive the teacher is. If one takes advantage of the teacher / student relationship, breaking whatever laws the state may have regarding it, it’s a crime. It’s not something to be overlooked because of the "eh, boys will be boys!" mentality.
Bottom line: the "men have a penis and are therefore up for sex at any time" theory is completely retarded.
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