I said the world don't owe me no living
The band America is on constant play on my record player now. That album is just SO good. I have no idea what the symbolism in any of the lyrics is supposed to be about, but the music, the melodies, the sounds are just SO good. I'm hoping to find more America albums at some point. Job first. Then comics. Then America albums. That's my finding order.
So the past few days I've taken to finding people I used to go to school with or know from somewhere on LiveJournal. Only one of them doesn't have a blog. Incredible.
But it was also sort of a depressing venture for me. I can't really explain why. It's not like any of them are doing better than me. Maybe a small part of me still believes that the internet is my playground, and no one else sees this shit every day, like I do. I can be so deluded sometimes. I'm not going to try to contact any of these people, nor am I going to regularly stalk their LJ's. (Or at least, I don't plan to.) I'll go write in my blog or something.
Today was Ken's birthday and he called me drunkenly. It was still nice to hear him, drunk or not. He had a good birthday, though, so whoohoo! I'm glad. Part of me was hoping he'd come down, but the other part knew that it would mean he was fighting with his girlfriend, and I don't want that. They seem to be getting along today, so I suppose that's better than nothing. He says he'll be in the area this weekend and wants to come over on Saturday, but he was drunk, and I never trust my friends. I'll call him Friday and remind him, I think.
I got another letter from Aunt Mary today. She's so cryptic. Between her bad handwriting and her loose train of thought, I can hardly decipher the words, let alone the meanings. Apparently, someone named Karen is coming to visit her. I don't know who Karen is. And Mary's buying me clothes and leaving them at my Aunt Dorothy's house because no one's home at my house. How awkward, but sweet. She's such a nice, well-meaning old lady. I wish people wouldn't go out of their way to avoid her like they did at the reunion. She's a gabber, though. Talk, talk, talk...it brings her joy. If I had the opportunity, I'd go visit her at her home and listen to her for a while. I like doing that, hearing stories, learning about people's lives and interests and whatnot.
Years ago, our neighbor, Truman Wood, got married to a woman named Mary Collins. (Marys seem to pop up in my life chattily) I'm not sure why they married, but they were fairly mismatched. I don't know what to think of Truman. I remember he bought my sister and I a video (All Dogs Go To Heaven) once, and it was a strange offering, just out of the blue. We appreciated it all the same, but really didn't hear about him again until he was married. Mary, though, I loved. She was this Catholic, Italian, chatty grandmother whose kids and beloved grandkids lived in Boston. She loved to talk, loved to cook, did beautiful artwork (I still have some of her beautiful decopage work. She did paintings as well.), and raised big beautiful goldfish. Everything about Mary was interesting. My sister and mother HATED to listen to her for so long, but I thought it was great. She had so much to tell, so much to teach me, and she gave me cookies and art supplies, so how could I not listen? I wish she was still my neighbor. I'd love to spend some time with her.
Am I just a person with time on my hands, that I want to listen to elderly ladies recount the glory days of their lives? I don't know. I like doing it, though. I know they appreciate it, and I like to listen. You get some of the best stories sometimes. I'll write Aunt Mary a reply soon. I've just got to figure out what I'm replying to.
I know I should work on a comic for ComeTogether at some point, but I've really been enjoying not doing anything for it. If Mea asks, I'll do it. They're all inked; they just need to be colored and scanned and texted. *shrug*
I feel less and less enthused by ComeTogether lately, but I don't dare share the sentiment with Mea. I don't feel it's really my place, or really even necessary to make a stink about it. Inside, I feel like it's not a porn site for "real" people, so much as it is a porn site for people who haven't had their particular fetish done tastefully yet. I'm white, straight, and whatever else. My porno spot is filled. I don't really feel like it is, but that's the way this whole thing comes across. It's like, "I know you like this, but that's been done, what about the trannies, and the transgenders, and the lesbians, and the people who like this or that? We need to think of them first."
I guess I just feel like I don't belong. Sure, I like BDSM, but it's not something I explore openly because I don't want to jeopardize my relationship with Dave. He's not into that, and I don't see him that way. And the people who are into that, and I do see that way, are far away and really only want me because I'm already taken, and therefore a conquest, something to be stolen from someone else's tower. I have the sneaking suspicion that they'd get bored with me as soon as they saw me. My self-esteem is just soaring these days. So, I can't fit in with the BDSM people. Beyond that, I don't know as much as everyone else, so :p on me. I wonder what will be censored in this next run of comics, especially the lesbian one. I don't want to step on toes; I just want to fucking exist and enjoy these things and not have to pretend I give a shit about whether or not what I said turns me on will offend the tranny down the street. I won't talk to Mea about this stuff though, because I'm the kind of person who's easily talked down from an argument. I get flustered and can't defend my position right away, so I back down, rather than deal with a confrontation.
I think the ComeTogether issue bothers me a lot because I don't know what to say about it. Let me put that better. I've been reading arguments on LiveJournals about rape, and about the images presented by the Dove "real beauty" advertisements. (these are separate subjects.) In the discussions of rape, there will be people popping up and claiming, "But men get raped too!" Ginmar smites this quite effectively by asking, "Why would we discuss the 1%, when we're trying to fix the 99?" or something like that. The Dove "real beauty" campaign discussions were about the ads where they show women fatter than normal models, or women with wrinkles, or women with freckles, and Dove says it's real beauty. They're still hawking a beauty enhancement product, though. A lot of people lauded the presentation of "real" women, or fat(ter) women (than the models). But a few disgruntled skinny chicks popped up to say, "Why do women have to be bigger than a size zero? I'm a size zero and people pick on me all the time." The other posters put it into perspective for them nicely, I think, or at least offered a good counterpoint to their argument, saying that the size zero models are seen as the norm, whereas most (there needs to be a word closer to all) women don't have the ability to be a size zero, and are forced into unhealthy lifestyles trying to reach an unnattainable goal. Beyond that, even if you are a size zero getting picked on, the picking done on you is nowhere near the magnitude, ferocity, or as constant as a fat woman gets.
So here's my dilemma: While it's sort of refreshing to be on the right end of those arguments, both a woman capable of being raped, and a fat woman fighting to exist and be seen as beautiful, I'm on the fighting end of the conflict at ComeTogether. While I feel singled out to be left out so that others' may not be offended, it doesn't mean that they're wrong. Those people should be thought about, and I am part of a very big majority that in this argument ought to be ignored for the sake of getting the rights of the minority. I guess that's why I don't speak up about how I feel. What's the point? I would be the person saying, "But men get raped too!" and utterly ignored for being the exception to the site's rule.
After all that, I still can't help but hate skinny women who whine they get picked on. "But people tell me to eat a sandwich all the time! They tell me I'm not a "real woman!" I have problems too!" Wah, bitch, wah. Have you ever been left out of riding an amusement park ride because the operators didn't want to find out if you could fit? (Didn't happen to me, I saw it.) Have you ever had people heckle you just walking out of a Wendy's with a bag in your hand? Have you had anonymous people tell you they didn't want to talk to you because of how you look? Have you heard children saying, "Oh mommy! Look at that woman!"? I could go on, princess. How SAD, how utterly fucking SAD it must be to able to find jeans in your size at every store except Lane Bryant. How SAD it must be to be able to order enough food to make yourself full and smile cutely about where you put it. How SAD and TRAGIC is must be to have people tell you you're beautiful and ask you out and shower you with gifts because of your beauty and not expect you to find a job or to be able to model because you're SO FUCKING BURDENED by your thinness. Oh yeah, and you're BEAUTIFUL...not "beautiful in your own special way", beautiful. End. Period. Beautiful. Fuck you, princess, and all your Twiggy little minions who make my life a living hell. Don't anybody kid yourself trying to argue with me about this either. Between direct interaction with them, and their effect on the public en masse, they've ruined my life.
Moving along, my friend Philip is such a sweetheart. He's sending me the newest Harry Potter book. I feel a bit bad accepting such a generous gift, but I'm desperate to read it too. He's sent me GTO before. I really don't know what to think of this. Part of me believes that he's just a sweet friend, doing a sweet thing like Peter used to do all the time, and another part worries that he's trying to win me over. Hmph. It could almost work, if trips and cuddles and listening were included. But no. I'm not that shallow. The more I think about it, the more I think he really is like Peter. Peter was just a giving kind of person. He didn't just give me things, it was everybody who was friends with him. I bet Philip's like that too. I guess I'll find out. All the same, it's WAY too awesome that he's buying me the book. Thank you, Philip. You rock.
I feel the need to draw. Probably fairies. But lord, I hate skinny people.
So the past few days I've taken to finding people I used to go to school with or know from somewhere on LiveJournal. Only one of them doesn't have a blog. Incredible.
But it was also sort of a depressing venture for me. I can't really explain why. It's not like any of them are doing better than me. Maybe a small part of me still believes that the internet is my playground, and no one else sees this shit every day, like I do. I can be so deluded sometimes. I'm not going to try to contact any of these people, nor am I going to regularly stalk their LJ's. (Or at least, I don't plan to.) I'll go write in my blog or something.
Today was Ken's birthday and he called me drunkenly. It was still nice to hear him, drunk or not. He had a good birthday, though, so whoohoo! I'm glad. Part of me was hoping he'd come down, but the other part knew that it would mean he was fighting with his girlfriend, and I don't want that. They seem to be getting along today, so I suppose that's better than nothing. He says he'll be in the area this weekend and wants to come over on Saturday, but he was drunk, and I never trust my friends. I'll call him Friday and remind him, I think.
I got another letter from Aunt Mary today. She's so cryptic. Between her bad handwriting and her loose train of thought, I can hardly decipher the words, let alone the meanings. Apparently, someone named Karen is coming to visit her. I don't know who Karen is. And Mary's buying me clothes and leaving them at my Aunt Dorothy's house because no one's home at my house. How awkward, but sweet. She's such a nice, well-meaning old lady. I wish people wouldn't go out of their way to avoid her like they did at the reunion. She's a gabber, though. Talk, talk, talk...it brings her joy. If I had the opportunity, I'd go visit her at her home and listen to her for a while. I like doing that, hearing stories, learning about people's lives and interests and whatnot.
Years ago, our neighbor, Truman Wood, got married to a woman named Mary Collins. (Marys seem to pop up in my life chattily) I'm not sure why they married, but they were fairly mismatched. I don't know what to think of Truman. I remember he bought my sister and I a video (All Dogs Go To Heaven) once, and it was a strange offering, just out of the blue. We appreciated it all the same, but really didn't hear about him again until he was married. Mary, though, I loved. She was this Catholic, Italian, chatty grandmother whose kids and beloved grandkids lived in Boston. She loved to talk, loved to cook, did beautiful artwork (I still have some of her beautiful decopage work. She did paintings as well.), and raised big beautiful goldfish. Everything about Mary was interesting. My sister and mother HATED to listen to her for so long, but I thought it was great. She had so much to tell, so much to teach me, and she gave me cookies and art supplies, so how could I not listen? I wish she was still my neighbor. I'd love to spend some time with her.
Am I just a person with time on my hands, that I want to listen to elderly ladies recount the glory days of their lives? I don't know. I like doing it, though. I know they appreciate it, and I like to listen. You get some of the best stories sometimes. I'll write Aunt Mary a reply soon. I've just got to figure out what I'm replying to.
I know I should work on a comic for ComeTogether at some point, but I've really been enjoying not doing anything for it. If Mea asks, I'll do it. They're all inked; they just need to be colored and scanned and texted. *shrug*
I feel less and less enthused by ComeTogether lately, but I don't dare share the sentiment with Mea. I don't feel it's really my place, or really even necessary to make a stink about it. Inside, I feel like it's not a porn site for "real" people, so much as it is a porn site for people who haven't had their particular fetish done tastefully yet. I'm white, straight, and whatever else. My porno spot is filled. I don't really feel like it is, but that's the way this whole thing comes across. It's like, "I know you like this, but that's been done, what about the trannies, and the transgenders, and the lesbians, and the people who like this or that? We need to think of them first."
I guess I just feel like I don't belong. Sure, I like BDSM, but it's not something I explore openly because I don't want to jeopardize my relationship with Dave. He's not into that, and I don't see him that way. And the people who are into that, and I do see that way, are far away and really only want me because I'm already taken, and therefore a conquest, something to be stolen from someone else's tower. I have the sneaking suspicion that they'd get bored with me as soon as they saw me. My self-esteem is just soaring these days. So, I can't fit in with the BDSM people. Beyond that, I don't know as much as everyone else, so :p on me. I wonder what will be censored in this next run of comics, especially the lesbian one. I don't want to step on toes; I just want to fucking exist and enjoy these things and not have to pretend I give a shit about whether or not what I said turns me on will offend the tranny down the street. I won't talk to Mea about this stuff though, because I'm the kind of person who's easily talked down from an argument. I get flustered and can't defend my position right away, so I back down, rather than deal with a confrontation.
I think the ComeTogether issue bothers me a lot because I don't know what to say about it. Let me put that better. I've been reading arguments on LiveJournals about rape, and about the images presented by the Dove "real beauty" advertisements. (these are separate subjects.) In the discussions of rape, there will be people popping up and claiming, "But men get raped too!" Ginmar smites this quite effectively by asking, "Why would we discuss the 1%, when we're trying to fix the 99?" or something like that. The Dove "real beauty" campaign discussions were about the ads where they show women fatter than normal models, or women with wrinkles, or women with freckles, and Dove says it's real beauty. They're still hawking a beauty enhancement product, though. A lot of people lauded the presentation of "real" women, or fat(ter) women (than the models). But a few disgruntled skinny chicks popped up to say, "Why do women have to be bigger than a size zero? I'm a size zero and people pick on me all the time." The other posters put it into perspective for them nicely, I think, or at least offered a good counterpoint to their argument, saying that the size zero models are seen as the norm, whereas most (there needs to be a word closer to all) women don't have the ability to be a size zero, and are forced into unhealthy lifestyles trying to reach an unnattainable goal. Beyond that, even if you are a size zero getting picked on, the picking done on you is nowhere near the magnitude, ferocity, or as constant as a fat woman gets.
So here's my dilemma: While it's sort of refreshing to be on the right end of those arguments, both a woman capable of being raped, and a fat woman fighting to exist and be seen as beautiful, I'm on the fighting end of the conflict at ComeTogether. While I feel singled out to be left out so that others' may not be offended, it doesn't mean that they're wrong. Those people should be thought about, and I am part of a very big majority that in this argument ought to be ignored for the sake of getting the rights of the minority. I guess that's why I don't speak up about how I feel. What's the point? I would be the person saying, "But men get raped too!" and utterly ignored for being the exception to the site's rule.
After all that, I still can't help but hate skinny women who whine they get picked on. "But people tell me to eat a sandwich all the time! They tell me I'm not a "real woman!" I have problems too!" Wah, bitch, wah. Have you ever been left out of riding an amusement park ride because the operators didn't want to find out if you could fit? (Didn't happen to me, I saw it.) Have you ever had people heckle you just walking out of a Wendy's with a bag in your hand? Have you had anonymous people tell you they didn't want to talk to you because of how you look? Have you heard children saying, "Oh mommy! Look at that woman!"? I could go on, princess. How SAD, how utterly fucking SAD it must be to able to find jeans in your size at every store except Lane Bryant. How SAD it must be to be able to order enough food to make yourself full and smile cutely about where you put it. How SAD and TRAGIC is must be to have people tell you you're beautiful and ask you out and shower you with gifts because of your beauty and not expect you to find a job or to be able to model because you're SO FUCKING BURDENED by your thinness. Oh yeah, and you're BEAUTIFUL...not "beautiful in your own special way", beautiful. End. Period. Beautiful. Fuck you, princess, and all your Twiggy little minions who make my life a living hell. Don't anybody kid yourself trying to argue with me about this either. Between direct interaction with them, and their effect on the public en masse, they've ruined my life.
Moving along, my friend Philip is such a sweetheart. He's sending me the newest Harry Potter book. I feel a bit bad accepting such a generous gift, but I'm desperate to read it too. He's sent me GTO before. I really don't know what to think of this. Part of me believes that he's just a sweet friend, doing a sweet thing like Peter used to do all the time, and another part worries that he's trying to win me over. Hmph. It could almost work, if trips and cuddles and listening were included. But no. I'm not that shallow. The more I think about it, the more I think he really is like Peter. Peter was just a giving kind of person. He didn't just give me things, it was everybody who was friends with him. I bet Philip's like that too. I guess I'll find out. All the same, it's WAY too awesome that he's buying me the book. Thank you, Philip. You rock.
I feel the need to draw. Probably fairies. But lord, I hate skinny people.
posted by sweetnfat at 1:30 AM
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