bonnie

Lady Links, This is a Woman

Lady Links 2.10

Um. So. This is late. Because last week I maybe kinda forgot a little? *cough* thank god I’m cute.

I feel like this isn’t timely since this is what everyone was talking about last week and not so much now. But it’s not like these issues have gone away.

So this little thing with Woody Allen happened and polarized the world, basically. His daughter, Dylan, came forth after his appreciation at the Golden Globes and reminded everyone about that time he was accused of molesting her when she was a child. Then this guy who sort of knew Woody Allen professionally made a reply to Dylan’s accusations and I won’t even link to it because it’s disgusting. The author very carefully used words and phrases and reasoning that people ALWAYS use to silence victims. Girls are lying liars who lie! Dare not question the Artist! He’s the victim here! (I paraphrase for the snark.) But good things have been written in Dylan’s defense as well. This is an excellent piece which I would quote for you but all the best parts are the entire thing and I think that might just be plagiarism. And there’s this one: Are Children Supposed to Document Their Abuse? Because. I mean. Really. The title speaks volumes. But it goes on to point out that, if indeed, people in America are considered innocent until proven guilty, and if indeed, we will never know what really happened – why are we demonizing the child here and making the potential abuser out to be a saint. If we truly cannot prove who is lying then lay the fuck off Dylan. Because when you disregard her abuse, you simultaneously disregard the abuse of every other victim in the world, too. When you demonize her, you simultaneously demonize every other victim in the world, too. So don’t do that. Just don’t.

And then there’s Phillip Seymour Hoffman. And I know he’s not a woman. But it’s not like addiction doesn’t ever strike women. And what it is about is changing the way we think about things which is one of the fundamental aspects of the Lady Links. So we’re talking about this today. We heard this news while visiting a tiny mountain town to celebrate my birthday. To be honest I’m still kind of in denial about it. But then Jared Padalecki tweeted out that Hoffman’s death wasn’t a tragedy and we discussed this. And I don’t know why, maybe it was the wine, or the sugar high combined with the higher altitude, or maybe I just really like the sound of my own voice more than being reasonable and compassionate (I do tend to process things slowly in my mind, but my mouth never gets the message to hold off), but at the time it seemed like a good thing to agree with, although I felt like it was a shitty way to have put it. But as I was driving home that night – even before I’d read the opinions about this on Tumblr – I realized how stupid that is. And as much as I tried to make excuses for my own stupid agreement with the comment, I just could not figure out how addiction isn’t a tragedy. Lord knows I’ve seen it enough in my life. And some people can recover, but they struggle every single day with it. Russell Brand once wrote a really great piece about this. But some people don’t ever conquer addiction. My grandma had lung cancer twice and wasn’t ever able to put the cigarettes down. And I don’t honestly know if that even compares to hard drugs – I just know that it’s a fucking tragedy when addiction rules your life. And it’s a fucking tragedy when the entire world blames a person for their own struggles. Because the thing is that no one sets out to lose control of their life. No one consciously chooses to struggle with addiction every single day for the rest of their lives. Whatever led them to that point is a tragedy and it is heartless and inconsiderate and unacceptable to not try to understand that. Again, Brand speaks up and poses this question, “Would Hoffman have died … if we weren’t invited to believe that people who suffer from addiction deserve to suffer?”

Just Life, Random

Clearly I Need to Get Out More

SPARKLE!bunny

I am not one for hanging out in bars. I mean. I’m not against them or anything, it’s just that when you grow up in a family of closet alcoholics, you tend to avoid drinking. At least I did until I discovered that I was probably sane enough not to become an alcoholic myself. And for some reason people don’t seem to want to take non-drinkers out drinking with them very often. Which, really, is fine because I was born 60 and too old to be dancing all night. Instead, my early 20’s were spent driving around town at night looking for mythical local landmarks and convincing myself that we found them. If this makes me sound like a total nerd, I’ll have you know that we often stayed out past midnight.

So last night I went to this vaguely Wonderland-themed wine bar for a friend’s birthday. It was a beautiful bar (indeed, the call it a “spirit and wine parlor”) with walls covered floor to ceiling in greenery, hanging lamps made out of twisted branches and beads that reflected and refracted the low lights, and the occasional steampunky clock thrown in here and there. The sangrias were perfect and the bartenders kept the birthday girl well provided for with drinks named for innuendos. The clientele were mostly your average Gaslamp mix of women in form-hugging dresses and hipsters with epic mustaches. Except us. We were all dressed as characters from Alice in Wonderland. Because we are awesomer than your average Gaslamp mix.

Also except for these two couples in particular that seemingly had fallen directly out of an SNL-sketch and through the rabbit hole into this bar. Couple number one was made up of a woman channeling 1980’s Sarah Jessica Parker wearing an entirely cream-colored outfit, her curly hair tacked up into some sort of “French ponytail” she probably found on Pinterest. Her date was the male version of 1980’s Sarah Jessica Parker, but his hair was less curly. It was clearly a good match. The Hipster was strong with the man in the second couple. He was wearing round glasses and had an overly-large scarf on as though he were trying to convince everyone he was the librarianiest librarian around. I’m not entirely certain his date was his girlfriend because we felt pretty sure he didn’t swing that way. In any case, she was entirely unremarkable. I spent a long time trying to mentally remark upon her, so that I could remember to write this down today, but I could not do it. There was zero remarking to be had with her.

At some point in the night normally well-past my curfew (I think it might have been 9pm) a DJ started playing and all the cool kids (except for us who were actually way cooler) went and smooshed themselves together on the small dance floor. I know there was massive group smooshing happening because at one point I decided to go to the bathroom and for some reason the way to the bathroom was through the smoosh floor. I mean dance floor. (Strangely, the way back from the bathroom was much simpler and less smooshy.) (I feel like I should say “smoosh” a few more times to get it out of my system. Smoosh smooshy smooshed smooshers. It’s so fun! You try it! Smoosh!) These two couples were having none of the smooshing. They decided to create their own dance floor. Right next to our table in the corner near the bar. And that was kinda weird. And it was kinda weird that they kept, like, bumping into us when no one else in that area was doing much of the bumping into. But the really strange thing was the style of dance itself. I feel like it’s totally okay for me to make fun of them because 1908’s Sarah Jessica Parker clearly stole my dance moves. The ones I made up in high school when I was really into 10,000 Maniacs and thought that if I just threw my arms out a little wider and more randomly I’d actually literally turn into Natalie Merchant. 1980’s SJP, in her entirely cream-colored ensemble was throwing her arms back and up and out and I really don’t know a lot about how the cool kids dance (today or, like, ever), but I am fairly certain it’s not like that. Male SJP seemed to really dig it, though. He was way into her smooth moves.

Possibly Gay Librarian and Unremarkable Lady Date, however, stole the actual show. I am fairly certain that with a large enough grant it can be scientifically proven that they fell out of that one party scene in Douglas Adam’s Life, the Universe, and Everything, and they’d have been showing off their trophy for the most gratuitous use of the word “Belgium” if they could have been heard above the music. Instead they had to communicate their Special Uniqueness to the world through dance. It went like this: grind, swing dance, grind, grind, completely stop dancing for 45 seconds to perform an obviously-trademarked move where Unremarkable overdramatically ran her fingers through Librarian’s Bieber-esque hairstyle, resume grinding. In the words of the wise Dave Barry, I SWEAR I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP.

At some point Librarian left the other three alone at which point 1980’s SJP and Unremarkable hooked up and did some combination of the two dances while Male SJP looked on helplessly and while we took bets on how soon until the girls started making out. But we could not have been more wrong. When it came time to split up the foursome for whatever reason (probably something Extremely Unique you’d never understand) the two men gave each other a hug. And not just a, cool-see-you-later-dude-hug, but an I’m-so-sorry-to-hear-your-dad-died-you-can-lean-on-me-hug. And then a kiss. On the lips. And the thing is that two guys kissing is not weird. But pecking anyone goodbye who isn’t your actual mate on the lips is just as weird as they way they danced.

I will never understand hipsters.

But I will always find them endlessly amusing.

Smoosh.

Random, The Zebra

A Rather Petulant Open Letter to Pandora (the Entity, Not the Hard-Working People Who Provide Such a Fantastic Service to the World)

Fine, Pandora, don’t play me “Mayonaise” when I ask for it because for some reason it’s not on my computer and the actual disc I own is all the way across the house in a box under my bed which is moderately pretty easy to get to actually, but I’m really lazy thankyouverymuch. I get that you want me to “discover new bands related to the music I like” n shit, but if you thinking playing six Oasis songs interspersed with Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and the Foo Fighters is me discovering new music you can think again. Turns out I was actually alive in the 90’s. So, fine. Withhold “Mayonaise” from me. Whatever. See if I even care. I’ll just sing all the words to these songs I’m just discovering.

Lady Links, This is a Woman

Lady Links 1.24

field o' daisies
an unrelated picture of flowers for you

~TIAW on Tumblr and Pinterest.
~”But this also hints that as much as self-proclaimed progressives wantto exist in a world where looks don’t matter to the point where they can be ignored, they still matter.”
~If you haven’t seen this yet, you really need to see this.
~Here’s a thought – let’s stop picking other women’s choices apart and just support everyone. LOVE.
~This is a beautifully done music video which shows that people on screen are not always what they seem.
~Speaking of retouching photos and video, you absolutely need to click on this link. Just make sure you aren’t drinking anything while you read through it because the hilarity will make you spit your drink all over you computer

Lady Links, This is a Woman

Lady Links 1.17

Is "I'm sorry professor but god wouldn't let me study because sunset" a good excuse? #nofilter
Pretend this amazing sunset is particularly feminist in some way.

OH LOOK. A LADY LINKS POST. WHAT.

~TIAW on Tumblr and Pinterest.
~One of the things that comes up from time to time on SOAM is that women tend to stress about what their bellies look like when they are on all fours. I remember when my second baby was a newborn and I had mastitis and was given the prescription of nursing him on the floor while leaning over him to let gravity help clear out the blocked duct. And I noticed that my boobs looked really weird from that angle. Because here’s the thing: BODIES ARE REALLY WEIRD. They are smelly and gross and do things that are wholly inappropriate. But we cover and hide all of that part of humanity so we are only regularly exposed to one aspect of human beauty. I love this link because it compares bodies in a flattering pose right next to one in an unflattering pose so you can see exactly how weird the bay actually is, and to help you remember how arbitrary it is that we decided only one of those poses is a flattering one. In either case the body is equally as disgusting and amazing if you really stop and think about it.
~A very SOAM-relevant post.
~Geena Davis solves Hollywood sexism for you.
~Mormon women pose nude FOR FEMINISM!

Philosophy, Political, The Zebra

Thanks Be to the Vogons

I know I complain about the Vogons* a lot. And they deserve it. In fact just this week I’ve spent 3 hours on the phone trying to sort one problem and another 20 minutes on the phone not even speaking to ANYONE AT ALL to sort another problem.

But the thing is that my kids have always had good and reliable medical care through the state. It makes the Vogons worth it. Very, very worth it.

And now, as of this month, I finally have insurance I can actually afford to use and keep. I have insurance that I don’t have to consider dropping so that I can keep affording food when paychecks are low. I have insurance that I can afford to get basic blood work or other labs without having to make payments for the next six months (or just avoiding altogether). I have insurance where I can afford to get an X-ray if necessary for this wrist that’s been fucked up for months. Or an ultrasound, if necessary, for this pain in my side that’s almostbutnotquite gone.

I’ve heard a lot of people unhappy with this new Affordable Care Act, and some have even wondered who could ever have wanted such a thing. So I wanted to write you to tell you who could want such a thing. Me. I could.

I make a point to be grateful to be American. Because truly my country protects its citizens with rights not afforded to people in other places on the globe. And I hope it doesn’t sound trite or privileged to say so, but I am well aware that everything down to my clean water readily available is something I am lucky to have access to and to benefit from. But then I remember how my country, for so long, literally did not give a shit if I lived or died. I consider health a basic human right (wacky, I know) and medical care was just not available to me for a long time at all, and then only at costs so high I could not afford to make regular use of them (and I was lucky enough to mostly not need it). Sometimes the US breaks my heart.

I’m not going to debate health care here. I may not even approve comments that debate it. Don’t get all weird about freedom of speech, either. Because that mean the government has to grant you free speech, not me. And while I normally love the exchange of information, even (especially?) in the form of debate I’m simply too tired and busy right now to sponsor such a thing here.

I’ll also add that I see flaws in this program for sure. And I do have sympathy for those who are frustrated by it, or for who it may be failing. But I wanted to write this to put this out there: it isn’t all bad. It’s working. We can keep ironing out the kinks, I hope. And, someday, I hope we move on to fully sponsored government health care. So that any person can walk into any hospital and just, like, get care. Madness, I know. But it’s where we really need to be to ensure that everyone actually does have access to health.

So, thanks Obama. Really. I’m not mimicking that hilarious meme at the moment, I’m being genuinely grateful. Thank you. So much.

(I’ve got to run. Here’s hoping the typos aren’t too bad!)

*”Vogons” used here to describe Earthling Human government organizations that make me so frustrated I want to stab puppies. The actual term refers to Galactic Alien government organizations that make people/other creatures so frustrated they want to stab puppies. I assume. Douglas Adams never wrote about stabbing puppies. That’s not canon. Except to this blog. It’s canon to this blog. I should stop talking now.

Review, This is a Woman

Frozen is possibly the best princess movie ever.

(This was supposed to be some Lady Links but I uh, ran out of time. Um. Sorry about that. Go see Frozen.)

frozen_poster

So I’m way late to the Frozen party. I don’t know why. I just assumed it was Yet Another Disney Princess Movie and I felt really meh about that. Cause we’ve seen that story and I’m over it. It wasn’t until my friend Summer took her nephew to see it and came back and told me that it had similar themes to those in Brave that I realized it was something I should spend my time and money on.

AND IT WAS.

I wrote a whole review of Brave when it came out and it’s really kind of late to do that for Frozen so I’ll just say one thing about it. After a warning about spoilers. If you don’t want to be spoiled, don’t read the next paragraph!

SPOILERS:
Romantic love is definitely an important kind of love, but it’s not the only important kind of love. Unfortunately our culture devotes an unbalanced amount of time to romantic love over every other kind of love – especially in princess movies. So when this movie started going on and on about an Act of True Love, I saw forward and crossed my fingers that it would turn out to be a different kind of love. AND IT WAS. In this movie there was a romance and a choice between two men. There was love at first sight and there was the kind of love that develops by working together with a friend. But the love that saved the day – the True Love – was a sister’s love. And I jumped up, tears streaming down my face, cheering and clapping and wanting desperately to hug all the people who wrote this movie. Well. Most of that I did internally. But there may or may not have been copious amounts of tears involved.
/SPOILERS.

So basically. GO SEE IT. Take every child you can find to go see it. Just grab random children on your way in* and tell their parents you’re teaching them important life lessons. I’m sure they won’t mind.

So if you’ve been wary of seeing this because Princess Movies, let it go (OH YES I DID JUST DO THAT) and go see it. You won’t be sorry.

*The views expressed by the blogger are not endorsed by the owner of this blog or your local police authorities.

Edumacation, Geek, The Zebra

Where I say the word “literary” too many times in one paragraph.

Happy Thing: Reading Harry Potter to Margie

I sometimes get frustrated with my daughter when I recommend a book to her knowing she’ll like it, but she brushes me off or otherwise ignores the suggestion. Have I mentioned my daughter is an ornery Taurus?

But then, if I’m being honest, I have to admit she gets this trait from me (and I’m not even a Taurus). It took me at least 25 years to finally read Anne of Green Gables even though I knew I’d love it. Instead I reread The Ghost at Dawn’s House 647 times.

The interesting thing about the internet is the impressive nerd community. We are in our element here. We can connect with other nerds and correct the grammar of non-nerds while bonding over our intense and sometimes life-destroying love of fictional characters. This is accomplished via various means such as Tumblr, or image posts on Facebook, or Tumblr posts made into image posts and then posted on Facebook. It was through these that I gradually became aware of the fact that normal people, apparently, don’t get overly attached to fictional characters. I assume this must be true based on these posts themselves loudly proclaiming they’re sorry-not-sorry about loving fictional characters. In my personal life most of the people I know have just been like, “Oh you have a crush on Ford Prefect? What? That’s normal.” But I assume that if an entire community online has to support each other in this sense, then we must be alone in this trait.

And so I started examining why I sometimes avoid reading new books and it finally hit me: I have enough fictional friends already. My heart can’t always take the vulnerability of meeting new people who might get hurt and will, at the very least, definitely leave me by the end of the book. And I know I can always reread the book, but that is a different experience which is wonderful in its own way. In any case, that is sort of the point, isn’t it? That I keep rereading the old ones rather than new ones. This isn’t to say I’ve been reading the same six books my whole life – I do read new ones, quite often even. This is just the reason that I find myself magnetically repelled from books I know I’ll love.

When I was in high school (during the 90’s when everyone was a shitty beat poet in Doc Martens and thrift store flannels) my favorite English teacher sort of crushed my soul a little by declaring that you can tell a literary person because they are always in the middle of a bunch of books at once. But I never was. I’m extremely monogamous with books. I think it’s due to my attention issues. And maybe loyalty. I can’t cheat on a book, you know. So I assumed I must not be literary and my occasional hesitancy to avoid good literature reinforced that opinion. Now that I’m an adult I know better (although my inner self needs constant reminders). Literary people can read however the fuck many books they want at once. And the reason I avoid new books sometimes is, I think, an incredibly literary reason. After all, who else by shitty beat poets in Doc Martens and thrift store flannels becomes so attached to fictional characters that they literally cry at the words “the end”?

I mean. Except I don’t write shitty poetry anymore. I mean my inner 90’s grunge hipster teen. And yours, too. You know you have one.

Random, The Zebra

I don’t think I could have come up with a more accurate view of my life if I’d tried.

I keep trying to write some inspirational shit about the end of the year and new beginnings n shit but you know I don’t plan these things ahead of time like a grownup blogger probably does and this morning I woke up to a Sad Menstruation Day and felt like a squishy sack of person so I huddled on the couch and whimpered a lot and read Out of Oz and obsessively clicked on things over at Pottermore.

tumblr2013

But then this came across my Tumblr dash tonight (you can get yours here) and I tried to just reblog it like a normal person but there was a glitch and then I couldn’t get it to go back and so I just took a screenshot and NOW YOU GET A YEAR’S END BLOG POST SORTA. I really think this is a literal reflection of my soul. Let me rewrite it in a poem for you.

Fuck people

Doctor time! fucking LOVE
Actually probably shit

Look life
Feel world
Makes little read
Person mean

Women tell

So happy New Year! And I’m still holding out hope that I may come up with something actually inspirational, but no matter what, at the very least Fuck People.