General Update

Dear Diary,

It’s been a while since I posted anything here. I think about this blog all the time, but never feel like what I’m thinking of posting is “good enough.”

Funny enough, my therapist says I need to get past that. First time I’ve ever admitted aloud the whole “good enough” thing. Though I don’t suppose this is an “aloud” place, is it?

In the last two years, things turned into a shit-storm. I got into a relationship that literally sucked the life out of me. Shortly after he left, I had a normal general check-up appointment with my GP and had a breakdown. It was the first time I saw this doctor, too. So, yeah, that was a glorious embarrassment. Which also lead to the whole therapist thing I mentioned earlier.

He put me on Buproprion and I was very good at consistently taking it. That is, until November of last year. I was in a new relationship at the time and I was visiting him in Pennsylvania. I kept forgetting to take the Buproprion, but I wasn’t having any emotional crashes. I thought I was good; not necessarily cured, but I didn’t need the medication anymore. I could start going back to how I used to be before the year of hell.

That turned into the lie of the decade. Last month I had to go back on it. I was crying all the time and couldn’t focus on the work I had to do. And, fuck, did I have some work to do…

Part of my whole break down set me back a literal year in my graduate program. I’m still writing scripts today that were due a year ago. All because depression and anxiety like to come riding in all like “Hey, buuuuuuddy!”

It sucked. All of it sucked and the suck just keeps on coming. But, I want to start talking about it now. Well, not now-now; I want to start updating this thing again with my unfiltered thoughts and unpopular opinions. Maybe it’ll help me further.

Until next time.

~Me

Tech and the Generation Gap

Dear Diary,

I found this image on my Facebook feed a while back. I get it. It’s funny, it’s an edgy comment on the younger generation. All that stuff.

But it bugs me.

It bugs me because the parents who agree with this seem to think that having sex and bringing a child into this world and raising him/her entitles them to some sort of reverence. It doesn’t.

Having children does not elevate one’s status to untouchable reverence. It does not allow someone to look down on this younger life and judge them as lesser because “I gave you life, I can take it away.”

Because of the shifting generation classifications, I have somehow been part of Generation X, Generation Y, and now I’m classified as a Millennial. Because I was born in 1982, I’m part of that lump of people who previous generations are calling lazy, stupid, and attached to our devices.

Funny thing is, at my age, I’m old enough to be a parent myself. Old enough to have a kid who is at least old enough to be rolling their eyes at me with a heavy sigh while saying “Mooooooooooom…” I’ve seen my peers nodding sagely at the above image and other similar posts, going “Yep! Respect your elders, kids!”

No.

Well, yes, respect your elders. Ours is a society where some things should be GIVEN before they are TAKEN, and that includes respect. Give respect to your peers, your elders, and those younger than you. But, let me explain something to you, every youngster who has be told to “respect your elders” when you actually have shown respect and done nothing more than questioned the status quo:

Respect and reverence are not the same.

Respect and reverence are not the same.

Respect and reverence are NOT the same!

Respecting someone is trying to show compassion and understanding when they do something you don’t quite relate to and maybe never will. Respecting someone is calmly and rationally coming to a mutual agreement when two views collide. Respecting someone is being able to talk in our “indoor voices” together when one person questions a direct command of another.

That is respect. It is something both earned and freely given. It’s something a person can give to both themselves and someone else.

Reverence is a one-way street. One person reveres another. One person can be revered by many. Giving it is strictly a choice where one doesn’t expect any type of recompense. Taking it is never having to return the honor, unless one chooses to.

When I hear “respect your elders,” what I’m hearing is “revere me.” And my reverence goes to only those who have earned it. Very, very few have.

So, parents who nod and make noises of agreement to the above image? I have a response.

To any parent who would say that to your child:

When you taught them to use a spoon, your children lacked a significant amount of cognitive ability and fine motor functions.

What’s your excuse?

Until next time.

~Me

Armor

Dear Diary,

I wear a suit of armor all the time.

I’m not exactly sure how I got this way. I’m sure if I talked to a psychologist about it, they’d blame my father or something. This theoretical person would not be wrong in their assessment. By today’s standards, my dad would be classified as abusive. The thing is, I’m more appreciative of what he molded me into than disappointed in how protective of myself I had to become.

I became hyper-aware of this part of myself recently.

I started dating this guy a few months back. He is attentive, sensitive to my wacky ways, and seems to be genuinely enjoy how different I am from “normal” people. So, of course, I tried to shut him out. I’ve tried to find every reason to not continue, but he was rather persistent. I always knew I needed someone persistent, but I never thought I’d find it.

Now the suit of armor is getting in the way. It’s getting heavy to wear and the rust is making it hard to move. And, quite frankly, it’s getting kinda stinky in here. However, I’m at the point where I don’t know how to take it off. I don’t even entirely want to, but I want to be able to breathe easier.

I want to be able to experience life the way others do. Sometimes I wonder if most people realize the freedom they have in their own lives. Everyone has problems and that’s not what I’m hoping to avoid. It’s more the ability to just experience life and human interaction without wondering what’s the catch. To know there will be issues and not have to figure out every possible problem before deciding to do something.

Until next time,

~Me

But… I Don’t FEEL Fat!

Dear Diary,

“Ugh… I feel so fat!” seems to be the motto of the nation’s female populous. I can’t speak for any other nation, since I’ve pretty much only interacted with this one, but I hear it all the time. The purpose ranging from actually feeling fat and wanting to express it to fishing for compliments and everything in between and even some beyond. Me? I’m weird, I guess.

I don’t feel fat. At 5’6″ and 340 pounds (as of my last weigh in), I know I am fat. And it’s not that I feel SKINNY, either. It’s just that I don’t feel fat. I feel comfortable with myself…and then I look at my reflection.

When I look in the mirror, I’m always surprised at the person looking back at me. Her pants stick out in a weird place I don’t seem to notice when I’m just looking down. Her stomach doesn’t seem to stay under her breasts like mine does when I, again, just look down. Her butt is taking on that shelf-like quality I associate with my mother, not me. I’m surprised because the mirror tells me a completely different story than my mind’s eye has settled on.

I can’t reconcile this being a body image issue in the classic sense. I’m sure by definition it is, but by application? What is it? Is it delusion? Some sort of self-confidence I lack in other areas? It has baffled me from the day I’ve realized I’m a fat person who doesn’t feel fat! I don’t feel like a bull in a china shop, I don’t feel like I might squash any person whom I sit down next to, and when I go to the cinema it almost always catches me off guard that I have to lift the seat arm to sit comfortably.

It’s not just fitting in spaces that are “roomy” for smaller body types. I don’t lumber when I walk. In fact, I’m told constantly how I “snuck up” on someone. Even nurses who’ve known me for years are surprised when they take my blood pressure. I see it every time I have to go to my ENT: I settle into the chair, the nurse sighs heavily and puts the cuff on me, the thing pumps up and I cringe a bit at how tight it is and the Velcro sound, the nurse watches the reading and suddenly her eyes widen. It’s taken me a while to not have an immediate panic attack at this gesture, because what has–so far–always come next is “Your blood pressure is…uh…it’s normal. Actually, the low end of normal.”

All the expected indicators are missing. Maybe I should start a new motto? Maybe turn it into a battle cry!

“I feel so not-fat!”

Until next time,

~Me

The Race Card

Dear Diary,

A summer or two ago (they all seem to blur together at this point!), I was in a career counseling class. The subject of racism came up in regards to prejudices in hiring. The professor, I recognize in an attempt to be even handed, used the term “reverse racism.” Hackles raised and somehow emboldened by the knowledge this man was also my academic adviser, I raised my hand and he nodded, giving me the chance to speak.

“There’s no such thing,” I said flatly. If I were a less angry person at the time, I’m sure I’d have felt the room still and tensions rise as the lone white girl in the room made such an outrageous claim.

“What do you mean?” the professor responded carefully, giving me the room to explain myself.

“Racism is racism. It’s as much racism if I were to give preferential or detrimental treatment to someone of another skin tone as it would be for them to do it to me. Calling it ‘reverse racism’ is just a way to make it acceptable when it happens outside what is considered normal.”

He blinked at me. I was careful to only watch him because by that point, my words took some of my anger with them and I didn’t want to see my classmates faces. After a quiet moment that just stretched on and on, he nodded and said, “You’re right.”

With the whole Zimmerman trial fallout, I’ve been thinking about this moment a lot. Especially every time a friend on FB posts yet another video or “inspirational” blog to make you “think.” My problem with them all is they’re telling you to think the exact same thing: sympathy for the perceived underdog.

I will admit I don’t know much about the details of the case. The thing is, my discussion isn’t about the case. It’s about the jump to racism that seems to be the status quo these days. Good people whom I’ve known for years are absolute zealots, having wished for the anticipated riots. Because, we all know, the best way to respond to violence is…more violence?

I don’t understand how that solves anything. If it’s only for the cathartic release, then it’s strictly chaos. It doesn’t punish the person(s) they feel is responsible, just more innocent people. Even worse, these new innocents were completely uninvolved with what’s making these people rage. In that, I only see senseless lashing out.

What was my punishment for challenging my teacher?

Much later, as I was in his office petitioning for my AA, I found out the aftermath of my act. It started with me apologizing for what I did and explaining how it was a pet peeve. He stopped me in the middle and told me how a classmate came up to him during break and asked if I was going to get away with talking to him like that. The professor’s answer was awesome:

“Get away with what? She had a valid opinion and expressed it rationally. She challenged me. I want you all to challenge me. If you feel you could do the same, then do it. That is when I know I’ve succeeded as a teacher.”

Until next time,

~Me

Ranting and Raging

Dear Diary,

When I was younger, I used to side solidly with liberals. Now? I still consider myself more liberal than conservative, but that doesn’t make me not think most of them seem to be looking for something to pick fights over! Either that, or I just got tired of it all long before some of my friends.

The other day, one of my friends posted about how it pissed them off when people (specifically white people) claim they’re 1/16th or some other miniscule measurement of native genetics, but don’t discuss that it was probably because of the raping of native women by Europeans. Said friend was specifically raging at Johnny Depp and him playing Tonto, which I guess in one of his rare interviews he said he has native lineage.

I don’t claim to be an expert in anything, especially humanitarian studies. However, I do know a little about a lot of things; enough to hold my own in a conversation. This kind of statement just makes me want to Hulk Rage. I mean it. It makes me wish I could add muscle bulk and height and change colours and just rage through the streets.

I’ll touch on the rape, pillage, and plunder argument later. I first want to discuss how infuriating it is to hear people whine (especially people who aren’t part of the culture they’re “defending”) about how these other people are “representing” the culture and are arrogant for their claims. Since Depp is the subject in question at this time, let’s keep with him for now.

Depp is very choosy on his roles. He usually goes for something artsy or something fun. I’ve never seen him in a truly offensive role (though I will admit I’ve not watched everything he’s been in). I’ve seen a fair number of his few-and-far-between interviews, too. His humor is fairly self-depreciating and I’ve never seen him boast.

What the fuck is the problem here? Are we really going to get mad at a 50 year old man for not apologizing for something his great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather (or grandmother!) might have done? He also, if I remember correctly, has French lineage. The French went a slightly more peaceful route with the natives, trying to gain access to their land and trade-able goods by marrying natives. As sweet as it is to think Courtly Love was a thing all the way back to the beginning times, reality is it’s a new concept. Being allowed to marry for love is only since the 1950’s? Maybe 1940’s? Before that it was a business contract. Woman brings this to the table, man brings that, the extended family reaps all the benefits.

Okay, I promised to touch on the rape part. I do not, in any way, deny there was aggressive tactics and rape to take over the land. However, using this as a reason someone shouldn’t vocalize their genetic claims makes me want to punch someone. Minority cultures are called minority because they’re not commonly found. Why are we suppressing those with toeholds in the culture? I don’t care if they’re 0.00000001% random obscure tribe of people. Something in their upbringing could teach us more about those people. Something we wouldn’t know about if we told everyone who didn’t have a significantly more concentrated bloodline to sit down and shut up.

Let’s look at it this way: let’s say the argument is more since his bloodlines are so diluted, odds are he didn’t learn the culture. Well, to that I say I’m half Jewish. Jewish worldwide population is 0.2%. 1 out of every 500 people. It sounds like a lot, but I grew up wondering if there were any Jews besides my immediate family out there. One could say I know the culture, since my line is just starting to dilute and I had interaction with my family.

One would be wrong. I had interaction with the family dynamic, but as far as the culture? That stopped at being female. My father didn’t care to practice, let alone teach me, so that’s out. My grandmother, who would have cared enough to teach me, basically brushed me off as a waste since I was female. The extent of my cultural knowledge boiled down to “you’re whatever your mother is” and, even deciding to go against that, I wasn’t worth teaching because I wasn’t a boy.

How does 50% of solid genetics give me the better claim than someone who’s 6.25% genetically associated, but might have more training and upbringing in that part of their cultural background?

It’s the assumption that because the genetics are diluted that they’re not allowed to make the claim at all, without knowing what they might have learned in their life, is what makes me rage. That’s where I find the statement ignorant and just a way to pick a fight. Personally, I’m tired of fighting and defending against cultural “champions.” I’d rather learn than focus on why someone shouldn’t be allowed to make a claim.

Until next time.

~Me

Safety and Trust

Dear Diary,

I think I made a terrible decision seven years ago. Now, I can’t get that time back and I’m not sure where to go next.

On the one hand, I learned a lot. I’m back in school, I’m heading toward a solid degree…things are really good there.

On the other hand, I feel like I made a very wrong, very bad choice in who I threw in my lot with.

Y’see, growing up, I had an arsenal behind me. I was bullied but once in my whole life, I’ve been equally oblivious to behind the back whispers both good and bad; some say it’s been charmed. But, when I got older, my arsenal diminished and I found myself needing to build myself a new one. I knew it was something that happened as life went on and paths diverged. I wish I had the confidence at the beginning of my decision as I do now on how to read people. I thought they would have my back. Pfft… Yeah, right.

My parents taught me to be there for people, to never let someone be alone when they shouldn’t be, and to be honest with my thoughts and feelings. To me, these things are what make a human being. Compassion and caring and all that touchy-feely crap that I hate voicing, but find to be an absolute necessity for action. As my mom says, “they talked a good game.” I thought they had the same values I did, but after two years I started to realize that the shiny novelty that was me was growing dull to them.

Five more years of living like that, I’ve learned that people don’t give a shit, and this is something that bothers me. How does a person tell a story with emotional detail about the hate crime they were subjected to, but mock another person for not wanting to stand alone in front of a dark storefront to fill a water bottle? How does a person justify pouting when a Disneyland trip must be cancelled, but tear down another when the hurt from a broken promise is expressed? How does a person attach the label of “best friend” on someone and decide that’s enough to keep them around as a friend?

The other day I sat down with my dad and he tried to explain something to me that I already learned the hard way. I’m not like a lot of people. It’s not good enough for me to talk the talk. I have a need to walk the walk. I can’t leave someone alone when I don’t think it’s safe. I can’t catch someone crying and not do something to coax a smile or find out what’s wrong. I don’t make promises unless I know I can keep them, and only the absolute extreme can make me break it.

This is something everyone claims to want, so why does no one want me? I don’t just mean romantically, but as a friend, too. Does it scare people that I can do what others only talk about? I can’t figure out why. Why is it so easy for people to be so careless with me? I’m not made of glass, but I’m not an iron statue, either. I’m somewhere in between hoping for the support and friendship I deserve.

Until next time.

~Me

Reason, Season, or Lifetime

Dear Diary,

There’s an old saying “People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.” I love that quote. It basically means, as I see it, that someone comes along to assist you for a specific reason and are just as quickly gone or they come around for a little while then go, or they’re in it for the long haul.

Recently, I’ve experienced my first “season” friend.

Yeah, I know at 30 years old this shouldn’t exactly be my “first” anything as far as relationships go, but it is. Most of the people I encounter are “reason” or “lifetime” people. The lady who made my bodice was a reason. I liked her, we got on well, and we even traded tips and secrets about smoking (I can shame myself about my bad habits, thank you!), but at the end of the transaction, that was it. We were done. We weren’t meant to interact beyond the time it took for her to make the bodice and me to hand over the money, and I don’t think either of us were really interested in trying to draw it out longer.

Another person, whom I still technically consider a friend, was also a “reason” person. It took me a long time to figure out her reason for being around me, and that was that I needed to learn to stop catering to people. She was (and probably still is) a very strong personality and was quick to piss off when things didn’t go exactly as she wanted. At the time, I was easily cowed. It was easier for me to snap to than to stand up for myself. While not catering to her might have made it so she doesn’t ever fully trust me, it taught me that I don’t have to be at the beck and call of others. Nothing truly bad happened by my inability to be super-human.

Of course, the lifetime friends are the easy ones. They’re always there, they always will be there, and it doesn’t matter if I talk to them all the time or not. Things will never change so much about them or me that I’ll stop being happy to hear from them or stop liking them.

But this “season” friend? I never thought a “season” would be so hard. It’s almost like being dumped, but without the dumping. Huh… When I put it that way, it’s not my first “season,” but the first one that has mattered like this.

Y’see, this friend, we met fairly innocently. I was playing a MMO and was invited to join a new guild because they needed the bodies. We were told we could stick around, we didn’t have to leave, so I stuck around. “Season” got the same invite, and we ended up dominating the guild chat with our old cartoons talk and different religions. By the end of the night, we switched to using a separate IM client and we talked almost every day for a while. But, he started having problems with his wife. I was a good friend and comforted him. She kicked him out, then took him back. He told me he was miserable. I made sure to always be there for him when I could.

A year or so later, they separated again, officially. Within the month she was moving in with a new guy and pregnant. “Season” started talking to me as if he wanted to start a long distance relationship with me. I was uneasy with this, because they weren’t legally divorced, just separated. However, I noticed that even with his advances, he pulled away more and more. Maybe a little over a month ago, he told me that the missus-but-not was tricking him and upsetting him. There wasn’t any advice I could really give. Then I started noticing that the more she posted to his Facebook and the friendlier those posts got, the less he responded to me.

Now, I know I’m a little dense in the social department, and for a while I figured I was just reading too much into things, but there comes a time when a girl’s gotta realize she’s been labeled “ENEMY” and her guy-friend isn’t allowed to talk to her anymore. What bothers me most is I trusted his sincerity to want to come visit me, want to hang out with me, just plain want me. I trusted him and he let me down. I think more so than my ex-fiancee because I didn’t see this one coming. I was supportive when he came out about his bisexuality, I was supportive when his wife threw him into emotional fits, I was supportive when he went back the first time (even though I didn’t think it was smart). In the end, I wasn’t even worth a “Hey, the missus don’t think we should talk. See ya!”

So, I’ve decided “season” needs to go because I’m better than this. I deserve more than getting what amounts to second hand crap from his wife. It’s just always sad to see someone with so much potential become something of no more value than what you’d flush down a toilet.

Until next time.

~Me

Sex Sex Seeeeeeeeeeeeeex Sex Sex

Dear Diary,

Why is sex the default position? Wow…that actually sounded kinda wrong.

Earlier today, I was talking to someone in the house and she mentioned that a person (another woman) she just met wants to take her out dancing. The housemate I was talking to has battled with MS her whole life and I’ve watched unable to just stand still, let alone have the ability to dance. However, I hate telling people what they can and can’t do when it’s an illness that brings them down. So, even though my first thought was “But you can’t dance.” I didn’t say so, and said instead “I’m not going to say what my first thought was.”

Her response? “She [the new person] isn’t gay.”

Twitch. Twitch twitch…

WHY is the first response out of everyone’s mouth have to be something sex-related? Gay, straight, interested, not interested. Why does it always go back to that? Growing up, even amongst hundreds or thousands of hormonally charged teenagers, I don’t remember the first response always being about sex. I remember lewd comments, I remember innuendos, but I don’t remember holding back a comment and everyone jumping to the sexual orientation or how badly the person wants to jump my bones (or vice versa). Even people who I knew at one time to be violently asexual go there.

When did this change? When did this become normal? I know I’m pretty oblivious at times, but I didn’t think I wasthat oblivious.

To make it worse, the assumption just riles me up. But, I’m not sure if it riles me up because I’m alone, or if it actually is something that gets under my skin. It’s not like I didn’t know the world revolves around sex somehow, and I know that “sex sells.” It just now seems to be a gross over-saturation of it in the human mind and instead of it staying there and coming out when appropriate, it just spills out of the human mouth as if no one has any sense of responsibility to what they say.

~Me

Debates

Dear Diary,

I don’t understand the way most people debate and argue. I live with a group of people who would classify themselves as “liberal,” but I can’t see the difference between them and those they try to go up against. Every debate is born of hatred rather than a pursuit of knowledge and understanding.

Tonight, at dinner, the question was posed “If God, being a perfect being, can create a man so beautiful that homosexuality is not wrong, why doesn’t He?”

Really, I didn’t want to be part of the debate, but it kept going on around me. But, I let myself get dragged in anyway.

“Why does there have to be a reason besides ‘I don’t wanna’?”

“Want is a human emotion. Being a ‘perfect’ being means that God is beyond that; want and not wanting.”

“The cat ‘wants’ chicken, but he’s not human.”

Of course, this being a very condensed version of the debate, I must point out that between the previous point and the point I made about the cat, some time had passed.

“I didn’t say it was a human emotion.”

“Yes, you did. Your exact words were ‘want is a human emotion.'”

“Then I didn’t mean human, I meant mortal.”

That is about the time that I shut down when it comes to debates. Generally, I give someone two tries to support their argument without changing the rules, and by then the rules have been changed twice. The first rule change was to change the question. It early on switched from a question of “why not” to “the version I see a higher power being is the right way, and you must accept that to be the Truth.” The harder I tried to steer back to the original question, the harder the resistance. When the rules changed again, redefining what they wanted a word to mean halfway through the argument, I was done.

Before I go any farther, at this point in time my worldview has a full acceptance of homosexuality. In fact, most of my world view falls under the “live and let live” policy. I kind  of go through a mental 3-step checklist:

1. Does it harm me?
2. Does it harm those I care about?
3. Does it harm the world at large?

It’s pleasantly surprising how much easier it is to make decisions about what to and what to not support using that short list. Anyhow, long ago I answered those questions in regards to homosexuality:

1. Except for taking a few hotties out of my dating pool, not really.
2. Nope, not really. Sure, the hatred of it from those more uptight than me can be hurtful, but that’s not what I’m asking myself. Does homosexuality, in and of itself, hurt those I care about? Nope.
3. Pffft!!! Hell, no! I wish there was MORE homosexuality so we could get some bloody population control, here! If more people had to take the painstaking steps same-sex couples do to have and raise kids, things would certainly be different! (Funny enough, this one was formed and settled around the time I was 17 or 18, when I read The Black Gryphon.)

So, when it came to the original question posed, “If God, being a perfect being, can create a man so beautiful that homosexuality is not wrong, why doesn’t He?” my answer was not to go against homosexuality, but the fact that the answer to the question seemed so simple to me. “God doesn’t because s/he just bloody doesn’t want to.”

The original response back from that was, in being perfect, and thus all things made by God is by proxy perfect, God can’t NOT make that man. That was the answer I completely did not understand. If he couldn’t NOT make this person, doesn’t that take God down from “higher being” status and slaps him among computers, which can only do what they’re programmed to do? If God cannot make the choice to or to not do something, then does God as we choose to acknowledge him/her not actually exist? A computer, being a perfect machine (while I recognize that we may not accept that on an emotional level, how bloody frustrating they are, they are indeed perfect machines) can’t NOT do what it’s designed to do. By placing God in that category, s/he is no longer a divine being but just another series of calculations and logarithms.

Until next time.

~Me