Ideas? What are those, Again? >___>

The Scarlet B Posted on by

Hola world, I am short of ideas for you this mutable day. I kind of had in mind to point out some humorous differences in American versus British culture, but i apparently can only thing up two examples at this exact moment. Oh sure, I could Google around and find other examples and credit them, but that kind of defeats the purpose, doesn’t it? Still, at least I’ve got myself a little text file with those two examples in them taunting me, so perhaps more ideas will come in time to join them.

And mutable, of course, has to do with the weather. It’s mainly gorgeous sunshine today, but random bits of storm keep blowing in suddenly and severely. It’s pleasing, insomuch that I adore severe rain – the sound of it slamming against a building is incredibly soothing to me. And really, today is a day for slackertude and relaxation; I don’t really feel like doing anything that requires effort. Funnily enough, that includes this, hee hee…

I guess I can take a second to point out a few interesting bits in the news, then. Firstly, the government is doing a bit of a rollback on the DNA database malarky here in the UK. I’m still wondering how I’m supposed to be convinced that 80% of the people already on the roster need to remain there, but it’s a step in the right direction. Whatever one can say of the current British government, I think you’d have to be a daft fool to claim that they’re trying to keep people scared and quiescence. That, or have completely missed the 13 years of Labour governance…

By that token, the incredibly ridiculous and insulting barring and vetting scheme is being pared back, too. I don’t know what is so fundamentally flawed about modern society that makes people think that governments/corporations/etc can make life 100% risk free, but I’m sorry… it just doesn’t work that way. Perhaps if people put down the pork pies and took a bit of responsibility on their own shoulders… but then, that’s a bit cruel of me as well. I can understand that many people insist on living a ridiculously jam-packed life and don’t want to have to think about anything as they dash about in a constant state of panic from points a and b and c (and d, if they’re so lucky!), but that’s a whole ‘nother thing…

I also spotted a suggestion that people ended up in the ER (A&E) for booze-related incidents should be forced to cough up (in Scotland, at least). I’ll be curious to see how that works if they give it a go; as a former serviceperson, I don’t understand ending up in hospital for drinking (y’know, ’cause we’re all invincible to the bad side of drinking in the Armed Forces *cough*), so I don’t know if the stereotypes of abusive drunk are true in that case. I kind of feel bad for people who are drinking that heavily anyways, or eating themselves into obesity – governments and organizations moralize against all the fun sins, so no wonder people pick a vice and go extra mad with it. Can’t drink ’cause you’re obviously demented if you do, can’t smoke ’cause it means you want to kill babies, and god forbid you eat anything junky, ’cause you’re obviously just a parasite. Good thing people don’t legislate on our sex lives… oh.. wait. <__<

That’s more than enough, so I’m going to run off screaming!  YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH, yup yup. Have a good weekend, folks!

A Day in the Life: Today >

The Scarlet B Posted on by

Geeebus, what a day. First off, the tiny one decided that last night was the night to have a complete and utter refusing to sleep breakdown. Considering that I was already stressed to the nines from yesterday and the fact I’ve been sleeping poorly this week, I ended up parking myself outside in the cold to get away from the noise and… actually, the cold; I kept getting out of bed to try things with her, and losing all my precious stored heat. My husband eventually decided to try taking her for a drive and did a bit of shopping at the Tesco last night.

This’ll become more pertinent later in the story, promise. 😉

So anyways, I wake up this morning to find no husband, no baby – ack. I roll out of bed, and find that they’re in the other bedroom, so not quite as bothered. We wake up and make with the morning routine, and eventually, drag corpse into work. Now, I’m already in bad enough spirits from lack of sleep and my lack of success trying to get an appointment with the psych folk at the hospital, so it about put me in tears trying to do it for the second damned day in a row. Thankfully, everyone and their mom called me back to assure me that they were going to figure out why my appointment hadn’t been issued, and even got me a prescription written out so I wouldn’t run out of my meds.

Yay!

So, we leave my daughter at ‘work’ with her grandmother and head off on our grand adventure. We get the prescription no problems, and trot it off to the pharmacy. This was aided with the fact my PPC had come in the mail this morning – hooray! Oh sure, we had to wait eleventy billion hours and I had the joy of a small child pointing at me repeatedly for my funny accent (lulzsigh), but eventually, we made it back to the waxing sunshine and to the car to drive back to work.

Or erm… so we thought.

As we were coming onto the roundabout on the edge of the town centre to head back to the village, the car all of a sudden made a horrible noise and started kind of softly listing; this isn’t something you want on a bleeding roundabout. My husband manages to get us around to our exit and pulled off safely, and we get out of the car to check what’s up. I’d gotten as far as being relieved that it wasn’t the transmission (hate those evil things!) before we realized that the exhaust pipe had dropped off at the engine in, and had cheerfully gouged a path all the way ’round the roundabout, and to our stopping point – d’oh! After some dithering as to whether or not we could get on my father-in-law’s AA (we couldn’t, seeing how we didn’t live with them anymore) before calling up the garage down the road from us.

Blessedly, they’d had the exact same thing happen to the same make of car the day before (?!!!), so they knew what to do to enable us to get the car to the garage. We got there, enjoyed ourselves a nice coffee (I love British hospitality so much), and after finding out it would be better to let them sort it tomorrow, we walked home. My father-in-law had to come fetch us and the old car seat so we could bring my daughter home, but that wasn’t a real problem. Plus, most of my husband’s birthday presents were waiting for me there (bwahahaha), so I was able to bundle up the lot and bring them home to wrap here in a bit.

As for the shopping – that would’ve been done tonight, so hooray that it got done last night when we still had a car!

I have to say… it kind of amuses me how I can handle biggole things without going off the deep end, but little things drive me insane. I suspect it’s because I’m crap at letting go of things… but that remains to be confirmed. 😉

Anyways, I’m going to go flop, ‘cause erm… yeah, kind of a lot!

Adventures in History: The Tale of 101 Jostas

The Scarlet B Posted on by

I had commented in my Livejournal today that I wasn’t sure what to do with myself here today, and mine Heatherbat suggested that I write about one of our adventures. I’m not sure I could decode individual ones from my brain at whim, but I can pull up some various fragments, such as when we first met…

The meeting was almost storybook, in that it was our first day of high school. There’s probably a whole gaggle of tv tropes about how the people you meet your first day of high school will be your best friends for life, but I guess there’s some truth to it. In Heather’s case, she was sitting outside of English II, third period. She was in the snazziest bell bottoms I’d seen to that point – they were white with little reddish-orange mushrooms all over them. Her hair was the most awesome shade of red black, and I just had to make with the compliments. And, to add to the trope-i-tude, we were next to each other in the alphabet, and therefore, could make a nuisance of ourselves…

The other that was significant that day, who is still dear in my heart, would have been Zach; together, we gained the appellation of the Terrible Trio. We just… feed each other so much that our councilor was actually asked to avoid putting us in the same classes if they could help it; he rebelled our Senior year and piled us all together all over the place ’cause he loved us much much. ^__^

But this isn’t about Zach – our story came later. This is about Heather, who gave me my high school nickname while donning one of her own. About our first mutual outing to the school mixer at the Field of Dreams (which is now some disgusting Pretentious Artfagland-style high-rise crap, with more to come). Of wandering around downtown Dallas singing The Beatles, of walking barefoot to the grocery store, of Dr. Peppers and ABCs 123s, of fallout and reconciliation, of continued love and personal growth. It’s a story of so many fragments that it’s a miracle I can remember the fragments – after all, we’ve known each other more than half of a lifetime. And I’d like to pick a happy tale, but so many of our stories have tinges of sadness around the edges. These are tales that I’m not brave enough to share to the abyss, not yet…

As I sit here scribbling, I think I can recall one that is suitable, one that is light-hearted and enjoyable – the Tale of 101 Jostas.  Because of the nature of our school, Pepsi was very fond of coming and doing promotions for this soda when they could. On this one occasion, it happened to coincide with Heather’s birthday; this would have been her 15th, some nearly 14 years ago. Now, Josta was our favorite soda, and like hell we were going to settle for the ‘take only one’ attitude the promoters were espousing – no, we were going to go for fucking broke and get ourselves more soda than we could ever afford on our lack-of-allowance back then days. Heather, myself, Victoria, and a handful of others armed ourselves with sacks and clever use of other people to fill up said sacks, and then run them back to my band locker. As a French Hornist, I had a locker big enough to cram two Freshman into (in the test, it was Heather and our friend Margaret, both of whom are delightfully tiny), so it was ideal for stocking full of sodas. And so, across the three lunches and the 105 minutes plus passing periods they entailed, we laboriously worked to get more than our fair share. At the end of the lunches, amongst the bits of costume and instrument and apocrypha that lined my locker, we had the pleasing final count – one hundred and one.

Was the party on?  Ooooooh yes.

At the end of the school day, we had the awesome task of getting said sodas from the back of the school, to Heather’s mom’s car in the front. Heather’s mom, I should mention, is the absolute coolest – she is just the epitome of rock in every meaning of the word, and had nearly infinite patience for our various shenanigans. So she waited patiently in her tinycute red car while we filled up the trunk, and then the car itself with our combined mass of Freshmanosity. For lo, it was time to party, and the main course’s name was Josta. Well, and awesome Heathermom cake – that woman is tres talented. We discovered, much to the wooden floor’s horror, that if you chucked a Flintstone’s chewable vitamin in the Josta, you got a rather awesome fountaining effect that left the unfizzed beverage tasting like… Flintstone’s chewable vitamins. I also discovered than I can run across a wet lawn in nine inch stiletto heels… but only if they’ve got some built-in ankle support. I can’t remember much more than that, beyond the fact that Heather and I were amply provisioned with Josta well into the summer. But I’ll leave it there, as the summer brought its own woes…

I suspect I’ll try my hand at rezzing more of my history as time goes by, perhaps making it a weekly feature. It’s just a matter of slightly sanitizing it for the sake of the guilty that aren’t me; I don’t really have anything to lose by naming all my demons. 😉 My friends, on the other hand… I won’t shaft them intentionally.

<3

Sense and Belated Sensibility

The Scarlet B Posted on by

Happy erm… Wednesday, yes. Wednesday… when did that happen again? ><

Today, I find myself speculating on where common sense went. As many will say with some degree of rancor, it’s not very common at all. I am somewhat regretful to have to concede that this is likely the case, insomuch that I like to think better of humanity (even when it proves me wrong time and time again). Still, it pleases me when bright spots show themselves, such as the House of Representatives rejecting a further extension of the so-called Patriot Act. When it was slammed through, I couldn’t say anything due to my job of the time (government employees really can’t have opinions, if you know what I mean :s), but damn, I do not approve of governments being so greedy and power-grasping as to scare the living bajeesus out of the people it is supposed to serve just to feed itself. I’m looking at you too, Blair – you’re just as dicktastic as Bush in that.

So, in short-  you can’t blame the lack of common sense fully on people. It’s hard to be rational when you’re being told someone is out to kill you, never mind that the chances of being struck by lighting are greater…

I also spotted something else on the BBC that makes me think I should learn a bit more about Toyah Wilcox. Being a non-girlygirl with no desire to be told that she’s pretty or fit in, I spend a lot of time being aghast at how marginalized women allow themselves to be. I actually took a tiny cane-shaking stand against it today – I dropped a note to the ASA about an advert (which I can’t find online to share, pity) for an Olay product that I found absolutely repugnant. The advert basically flat-out indicates that the feminine beauty norm is to eventually get a facelift, and that if you’re not quite ready for that, you can use their snake oil! I admit, I probably get mistaken for misogynistic as much as I rail against beauty regimes and those who practice them; I just hate seeing people exploited, yanno? And in the case of Miss Willcox, I think it tales some balls to actually stand up and ‘Oi, that’s not right’. I hope I can continue to do my bit in that way too, not that I have the reach that someone like her might. But it does take people standing up and having an opinion to change this sort of thing, so… y’know… stand up and have an opinion.

Anyhoos, I’m going to leave it at that for now, ’cause that’s all that I had on the cards to talk about anyways. And, compliments of my new Twitter//birthday girl Melly, I give you facial hair. It’s definitely worthy of contemplation – it seriously looks like it picked a random face and grafted itself on. Maybe one day, you’ll wake up with it, teh horrors! 😉

One Amongst Many

The Scarlet B Posted on by

Aftereveningnoon, readers! It’s evening here in the UK; the sky is dark, the baby is down for her nap, and dinner is cooking downstairs. All in all, it’s the perfect time to zonk out and relax. Of course, I’ve not done any of my blogging yet, so slacking is slightly put off (I say as I load up The Sims on my other computer… ah well!).

Today, my thoughts drift and center around parenting and all that lot. I’m a parent; my daughter is now 13 months and starting to become interesting. I’ve always wanted to be a parent to the exclusion of everything else – I think careerists are queer, I think the wealth-wanting are disturbed, and as for those who are willingly child-free… I’m working on understanding it, because I strongly believe that everyone should live the life that makes them happiest.

Now, with the caveats out of the way (because really, I don’t like stepping on toesies if I can help it!), I have to say that having achieved what I desire most in my life, I don’t feel like there’s bells and whistles and trumpets. I don’t feel that it’s some movie-moment drama scene, but then, I didn’t feel that at moving across an ocean, marrying, etc – I really think that people make too much of a big damned deal out of everything. That’s why so many parents hate parenting, and why children can’t be trusted for something as simple as watching their siblings (apparently). Too many people think that it should be some magical, life-consuming/vindicating event, and then find out that no, it’s just poop and flab. *laughs* Too many feel robbed because these big moments (as the media insists that they are) are just… things. Things that happen, like any other thing. That doesn’t mean that they aren’t awesome and great, but just that people have some ridiculous and hilarious expectations of… well… everything? 😉

As for me, being a parent is what I’ve always wanted – I’ve said that already. And yet, you’ll not hear me drone on about it. Why? Because that’s not the only thing that defines me, and I refuse to let it be the only thing that defines me. That way lies madness and resentment, and I like being tolerant of my squalling bratinka. And by that token, I don’t let me hobbies bracket me (as much as this writing/blogging thing continues to grow on me), or do I let my job, which is awesome, rule my life. Balance – get some!

And that, I think, is enough random blather today. And, if you want your fill on the go (har har), I’ve decided to make myself a public Twitter account. I don’t have anything set up there yet, so y’know… watch that space or something!

Oh Dear

The Scarlet B Posted on by

Eveningnoon, all!

It’s been an odd little day for me, insomuch that it’s not been a day at all. We stayed up late to watch the Superbowl (woo woo), and apparently, I’m too old to take such things on the chin. *chuckles* Though I have to say, I might’ve failed a bit in that I didn’t notice, and that I’m not indignant at poor Miss Aguilera for messing up the national anthem. Oh sure, I felt a little tug in my heart that said something had gone off a bit, but how could I be mad? I could see the players misting up (and me not too far behind them), and was also kind of keeping an eye on how long she took because of the 11 Points prop bet list. My husband and I are still out to lunch was to whether or not she kept it below or above 1:54 – it was just.that.close.

And even if she flubbed a line, she still did a beautiful job of it, much better than Miss Lea Michele did. I was surprised to find that the young lady does actually have a voice on her, but it’s absolutely untrained – good tones does not a singer make. If perhaps she got down with a franchise that didn’t autotune everything to death. I am completely deaf to autotune, but with Glee, it was completely obvious from their breakthrough hit crappy cover of Journey’s ‘Don’t Stop Believin”. The degree it was used, even at that early stage, was physically painful for me to hear; it was as if someone stabbed me everywhere and started wiggling.

I know that I have a lot of friends who are so-called Gleeks, and y’know… that’s fine. You’re allowed to like what you like. That doesn’t mean I’m magically going to understand something that exists to rip you off the second the episode is over (come buy our autotuned karaokefest on iTunes!), and by all accounts, has the most atrociously unfunny pile of stereotypes piled into a supposed plot. I don’t really find the ones that I’ve picked out from context to be amusing (fat sassy black girl! talented cripplegeek! and so on). And me, maybe I’m much too literal, or perhaps it’s because I went to a performing arts school that I don’t find it amusing that what the show has on offer is not a glee club in the freaking slightest. I’m sure it’s catchier than the more accurate ‘The Entertainers’, but eh… I guess I’ll find this sort of stuff entertaining the same time I’m impressed by the fact that Lady Gaga writes her own songs, right? 🙂 Which isn’t impressive, ’cause that’s what non-pop genres have been doing forever…

Otherwise… it’s a Monday, and I’m too old and grumpy to stay up late, which is probably indicated more than well enough. *chuckles* In the non-grumpy side of things, the latest prompt is up for the Chrysalis Experiment, and my story was Trisha’s selection of the week – good times. Of course, this means that the writing thing starts allllll over again, hee hee. I don’t have any ideas as of yet (hard to, since I’ve been asleep since it got posted *grins*), but I suspect I’ll manage to dredge up something tonight/tomorrow.

And y’know, otherwise… have a good day. 😀

Hooray!

The Scarlet B Posted on by

And because I want to say it, and no other reason – Stupid Flanders!

Aaah, good to get that out of the system. 😉

After yesterday, today is a day of relief and relaxation. I finished my story for the week, so that’s one monkey off of my back (until tomorrow, when I get a new prompt – d’oh! *giggles*). We’re shortly going to be ditching McTiny with her grandparents, giving us a night off. And how are we going to spend that night? Not drinking beer and watching FOOOTBAAAAALL! That’s right, it’s the Superbowl tonight, and as it’s in my hometown, I’m rather obliged to watch. I’m curious as to how the new stadium looks, having thus far ignored its existence. Plus, it’s fun to catch the game, even if we can’t catch the ads. I know, quelle horreur – the ads are the main reason to watch the game. But I’ll take what I can get in getting my little tastes of home here an ocean away.

Which reminds me – I’m rather amused by the assumption that all the foods that are in America are on this side of the ocean as well. I get confused people asking me why the hell I’d want Kraft Mac n’Cheez instead of say, making my own, or why coffee creamer is so important. Much like pickles and Ranch dressing, which are not on the average shelf in the UK, it’s the little tastes of home that keep a person sane. It doesn’t matter if Stove Top or Hamburger Helper are totally rubbish junky foods – you’d miss them, or something like them, if you lived in another country.

I will admit that there are also food advantages with living elsewhere too; I can’t knock everything here. Firstly, food is less processed in general. Secondly, the British are not in the thrall of King Corn – our sodas have sugar, not corn syrup corn sugar (don’t want to get caned, har har). Once you get used to the difference between corn-fed beef and grass-fed beef, it’s quite a good thing –  the former is fattier, the latter is leaner and taste really watery if you’re not used to it. And while there might not be a Mexican takeaway on every corner (which is probably what I miss most!), there is a wide variety of curry houses waiting to bury me in their spicy goodness. It doesn’t stop me craving bagel bites, pizza rolls, and cheap-ass freezer burritos, but still… got to appreciate the good!

What else is good and appreciable… well, the crazygust winds haven’t stolen our gate, which is a blessing. I have wonderful friends who are bringing me junk food from the States (thanks again, Jenna – you’re a doll <3). I have my Sims addiction, and all the amusement it brings. I have a pile of baked goods in the kitchen from where I channelled all my rage yesterday; there’s a fresh loaf of normal, a loaf of banana bread, and some nice chocolate chip cookies. Wha? When I rage, I rage. <__<

And as I wish to gratefully enjoy the free time that tonight will bring, I shall wrap this up and run like heck!

<3

Frazzle, Frizzle, Hisspit, Boom

The Scarlet B Posted on by

I am currently enjoying a bit of baby-free reprieve; she’s gone on a walk with her father. I’m grateful for this, because I find myself growing incredibly panicky an anxious over her being noisome today. She’s not in pain, or distressed – she’s just being noisy for the sake of being noisy. Unfortunately, this isn’t something I can handle in the slightest, ever, at all. While I wouldn’t mind being better equipped to handle such things (since it’s all people and things making undue noise near me), I do my best to not beat myself up over it; the fact my heart starts racing and I want to run screaming is punishment enough in my book.

But then this, and many other little things lke it, are the weaknesses I try to hide from the world. Who wants to admit that every single interaction is taxing, that almost every word said is overanalysed to the point of madness? For surely, I don’t want to hurt other people, and surely, it seems like most people don’t really give a rat’s ass pass themselves. But then, those that do are a bother too, ’cause then you’ve go tto worry about hurting them by hurting, blah blah blah blah blah.

See why this stuff stays inside? Muuuuch easier on the inside. 😉 And y’know, why I try to limit interactions as much as possible. It’s not ’cause I’m a snob – it’s ’cause it’s freaking stressful, and I’d rather give full an accurate answers to anything as pertinent than to ‘lulz broccoli’ the internet and my extended network to death. Or I get stuck being a mind-reader because someone would rather sit and seethe instead of talk things out.

I realize this is directionless from the start – hooray! That tends to be the case when ones’ brain is half shut down. As it were, the only thing of note in my brain besides thinking about how tomorrow is going to be a day of welcome reprive is thinking about how I need to sit down and script up a recipe for the chicken noodle soup I’ve been making us on the weekends. It wouldn’t be too hard to whip up, and it’s too good to not share. It’s just a matter of doing it, yanno? Maybe I’ll remember next time; I’m out of the noodles I use, so I don’t feel confident in my ability to figure out the approximate weight to recommend. I’d rather do that than use my standard measurement, which is one rice bowl.

Nugh, anyways… I need to find some motivation and get to doing a few things around the house. But much like the rushing wind outside, motivation is just about as easy to grab, being… not at all. Ah well – maybe tomorrow.

<3

Doors and Windows, Entropy and Stasis

The Scarlet B Posted on by

Happy Friday to all!

As I sit here watching my child try to commit suicide by knocking a flatscreen TV over (don’t worry, she can’t actually manage it), I smile and think about how life is ever changing. And while this is very difficult in some ways (ask me how I feel about my home town sometime), it’s exciting in others. For instance, my family over here is in self-employ in their own business. Last year, we thought about expanding out and taking on new clients, only to realize that it was completely undoable as things stood with the amount we were bringing in versus how much would be going out to take on new staff. So we shelved it… until now. While it’s not completely sorted, it looks like we might be able to work out a deal to get ourselves that extra staff at almost no cost to us, which would be beyond jawsome. There are points that need ironing out and sureties to be made, but so far, so good.

Of course, if you’d asked me five years ago, I would have said that my life was going in a completely different direction – west, not east (lulz). I had different ‘career’ prospects, I had different romantic prospects, but all of this was sort of fixed in my mind. My life from then to say, the next year, was just biding time until I could make my life actually start or something.

And then my husband came along and gummed up the works – good job. <3

But that’s sort of the thing with me – I’m just incredibly cautious. As one of my best friends said to me yesterday, in spite of the fact that I think I’m an open book, I’m more like a cypher to the key to the book. I’ll tell you anything, but you have to be brave enough to actually try it. And because I am so cautious, I inch along very carefully, am very controlling of what I say and do so that I don’t stand out and attract attention. I’m indecisive, and never really sure which way to go about things. I think the combination above means that when I do make a decision, and am absolutely positive on something, it seems a rather bold stroke to most. Me, I still don’t find it strange that I moved to a country I’d never been to prior to immigrating, hee hee. I just saw the open window, and leaped through, just like I did with our window as a kid back in Texas. It made sense to do it, like it was destiny or something camp like that, like it was just the right decision. I almost wish I could make all decisions like that – it’s less painful in some ways. *chuckles*

…

I realize that my train of thought has already wandered off before I got to a point… oh well. I guess the tl;dr in the back of my mind is that I need to accept change happens, if only so I can learn how to let go of things. Oh, that’ll be the day…

<3

What’s Not to Like?

The Scarlet B Posted on by

As some of you may or may not have picked up on (either from knowing me, or having taken the time to read the tiny about me), I’m a mother. My daughter is a year old, and currently helping recycle by taking things out of the recycling bin and handing them to her grandmother. Good girl – we’ll put you to work yet. But one of those rather unpleasant side effects of having a baby is getting through nine months of hell, and then finding out that you as you don’t exist any more. That physique, that mental image that you until that point held of yourself is abolished in a wave of viscera and ichor (I’m so kind to my child, eh?).

For me, this means that the tinycute person I always was is now this nearly as thin person stuck with a pooch; the way I gain and lose weight, the only way to lose the baby belly is emaciating myself, or getting surgery. I don’t deem either option appropriate. Supposedly, I’ll get over this by the time my daughter is about 18 months old, though I don’t agree with all the guidelines. I think daily make-up wear is disrespectful to your skin, sets a bad example, etc – obsession with image tells your children that they too should worry about it. So I find myself irked to be concerned with it. It’s not that I think I’m grossly fat (I’m pretty middle of the road for normal BMI), though I don’t like the squishiness when I sit down. I really don’t like shopping, and I find myself having to do a fair amount of it to find pants that stay on and don’t give me a muffin. If I could find pants that stayed up, something tells me I’d not worry about the rest of it, ha ha…

But then, one has to wonder at the media influence. I’m glad that there are resources out there encouraging people to accept and love what they have become, but they’re whispers in a sea of pressure to conform to a certain image. I cannot imagine how severe that feels for those that feel they need to be part of the herd to belong; I stand apart and often aghast at what passes for normal and acceptable. The objectification of women is more readily accomplished by our denial of outer influence, and allows us to taint the next generation of little consumers with all our neurosis. And I admit to a certain morbid fascination – I cannot help but try to understand the cycle. And then hike up my jeans and grumble about them not staying up; I mentioned how distracting that is, right? Good. <__<

Anyways, I’m not sure what my point about this is. I guess I wish people were more able to love themselves, and then love others. I’m generally appalled by the levels of bashing that people feel is okay in order to big themselves up, and this sort of thing fits into that arena. And as I’m usually the one getting bashed one way or the other (too thin, too stuck up, too spazzy, too weird, too judgmental), perhaps it’s just a selfish self-preservation method to want that. *chuckles* Though truly, there are too many people who insist on viewing the world in black and white, and if you don’t agree with me, then you’re obviously wrong, which is ridiculous. And yet, it’s so prevalent it makes me wonder if I’m stuck in Kindergarten…

Aaand as the train is obviously derailing for the day, I’ll leave it at that. Have a nice day, unless you’re a spambot. If you’re a spambot, I’m going to turn you into a bleeding fritter for making me moderate so many times today! *shakes tiny fist of impotent rage*

<3