Let's talk about one of the FDA's newer anti-smoking ads targeted at teenage girls. This is the one I mean.
If you don't feel like watching it, let me give you a quick rundown- a girl sits at a cafeteria table and talks about someone, referred to using male pronouns, who manipulates her life and controls how she spends her time. Obviously, she's talking about cigarettes. She's seen smoking outside at the end of the commercial.
My problem with this ad is that it plays off of a very real problem to create an advertising shtick. Violence and abuse within teenage relationships is a serious issue that has not been addressed enough; the CDC states that, according to a nationwide survey in 2011, nearly 10% of teens experienced violence at the hand of their girlfriend/boyfriend. Furthermore, 20% of women who experience rape or physical violence from an intimate partner report first experienced partner violence as teenagers. This ad implies that smoking is just as bad as partner violence, when only 4% of tenth-graders and 9% of twelfth-graders smoke regularly.
This echoes a trend I've seen in several media campaigns, most notably from PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals). Clearly attempting a "shock and awe" tactic, they have placed women in cages and even in plastic packaging. These strategies make light of the serious objectification and human trafficking issues that plague women in the US and abroad.
There are better ways to draw attention to the harmful effects of smoking. If this is an ad campaign targeting teenagers, playing off partner violence that ten percent of the target faces only serves to alienate those people.
Rates of teen smoking have gone down dramatically in the last few decades, so the FDA is doing something right. Why, then, should we devalue the importance of healthy relationships (key to developing emotional and mental health) to tell kids that smoking is bad? The last several decades of school health programs and initiatives have told teens that smoking is bad, while some of the most popular media aimed at girls and women tells them abuse is okay. Shouldn't we do something about that?
Friday, August 1, 2014
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Fireworks
Let's talk about courtesy and common decency.
Pioneer Day is my least favorite thing about Utah. There are so many aspects that just rub me the wrong way, and I had every intention of getting the hell out of town for it. Alas, car problems put a stopper in those plans.
I live near the park where they do their large fireworks display. It is also where the parade route ends. I was prepared for lots of cars. I was not prepared for how badly-behaved the attendees would be.
The fireworks nonsense starts at about seven- people park their cars in the surrounding neighborhoods and flock into the park to ooh and ah as colorful sparks explode overhead. There people seem to have very little regard for the actual residents of said neighborhoods- honking and being loud, walking through front yards, general bad behavior.
What surprised me the most, though, was how some of these visitors chose to hang out in the residential areas, rather than continuing towards the park. As the sun went down, people stood in the street and fired off bottle rockets. One person, who parked their car on a corner of our intersection, shot a flare gun towards cars and houses.
What is the deal? Who parks in someone else's neighborhood and behaves so poorly? Why are there so many people who are impatient to go and watch a fifteen-minute fireworks display? I don't personally care for fireworks, and I really don't care for the kind that people launch high into the air.
This is something I have noticed about Salt Lake- many people here have very little interest in the feelings or personal well-being of others. You have a right to light fireworks (I guess); you do not have the right to launch them towards my house and make me feel unsafe. This is the thing about personal liberty- your rights end where mine begin, and vice versa. I do not have the right to do something that jeopardizes the health of others. You do not have the right to do something that jeopardizes the health of others. If you want to light your own backyard on fire, be my guest. Do not park in front of my house, pull out a pack of PBR, and proceed to fire rockets over my head. It will end unpleasantly for everyone involved.
Pioneer Day is my least favorite thing about Utah. There are so many aspects that just rub me the wrong way, and I had every intention of getting the hell out of town for it. Alas, car problems put a stopper in those plans.
I live near the park where they do their large fireworks display. It is also where the parade route ends. I was prepared for lots of cars. I was not prepared for how badly-behaved the attendees would be.
The fireworks nonsense starts at about seven- people park their cars in the surrounding neighborhoods and flock into the park to ooh and ah as colorful sparks explode overhead. There people seem to have very little regard for the actual residents of said neighborhoods- honking and being loud, walking through front yards, general bad behavior.
What surprised me the most, though, was how some of these visitors chose to hang out in the residential areas, rather than continuing towards the park. As the sun went down, people stood in the street and fired off bottle rockets. One person, who parked their car on a corner of our intersection, shot a flare gun towards cars and houses.
What is the deal? Who parks in someone else's neighborhood and behaves so poorly? Why are there so many people who are impatient to go and watch a fifteen-minute fireworks display? I don't personally care for fireworks, and I really don't care for the kind that people launch high into the air.
This is something I have noticed about Salt Lake- many people here have very little interest in the feelings or personal well-being of others. You have a right to light fireworks (I guess); you do not have the right to launch them towards my house and make me feel unsafe. This is the thing about personal liberty- your rights end where mine begin, and vice versa. I do not have the right to do something that jeopardizes the health of others. You do not have the right to do something that jeopardizes the health of others. If you want to light your own backyard on fire, be my guest. Do not park in front of my house, pull out a pack of PBR, and proceed to fire rockets over my head. It will end unpleasantly for everyone involved.
Saturday, July 19, 2014
Caturday
That is his duck. Much like everything else I own, it belonged to me until he decided he liked it. That has been the fate of that duck, a stuffed bunny, blankets, pillows, socks, et cetera.
Marvin likes to eat food that I eat. Not just fish, but cheese, bread, crackers, potato chips, peas, lettuce, whipped cream, ice cream, mashed potatoes, pasta, and cake. He will climb your body to get at a slice of pizza. He'll leap at your to steal your corn chips.
Marvin is not like other cats I have met. He's got weird food preferences, doesn't mind water, and he greets me when I get home from work. When I adopted him, I did not expect to get a little friend who is so loving and loyal. I did not expect him to get excited every time it snows. I did not expect him to act like a dog.
I sound like a freaking cat lady, but there's only one cat in my life. I'm not crazy about him because I'm crazy about cats; he's nuts about me, and I return the favor.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Drunk Fridays
A recipe:
This has been a particularly difficult week, ending with a particularly difficult Friday. It is improved, however, by the acquisition of cheap sunglasses.
I don't see the point of spending a great sum of money on sunglasses. They never end up quite to my liking when I spend more than twenty dollars, and I feel reluctant loyalty to them out of the sheer fact that I could have bought pizza for what they cost. This leaves me with a desire for cheap plastic glasses, the kind you see on a rack in the grocery store near the registers. Never more than fifteen dollars, these oddities shield my eyes from migraine-inducing sunlight while looking to be worth every dollar paid.
These sunglasses, purchased at Fresh Market, are fabulous. They are brown-tinted, which I prefer, and rimmed with brown plastic. However, said plastic is accentuated with a rather vibrant teal. Most importantly, the sides are set with four stunning plastic "diamonds," each of which really give the glasses personality and a sense of mystique.
Would I pay more than ten dollars for these beauties? Absolutely not. I could pay more for sunglasses that look better and irritate the living fuck out of me, or I could pay ten dollars for strange plastic glasses that amuse me. We should choose our apparel based on what makes us happy; those who claim we dress for others have never worn a onesie.
My new sunglasses made me happy with their novelty and their affordability. What made you happy today?
- Pour a sizable quantity of rum into a large glass
- Add your favorite soft drink, and/or ice
- Consume with great haste
This has been a particularly difficult week, ending with a particularly difficult Friday. It is improved, however, by the acquisition of cheap sunglasses.
I don't see the point of spending a great sum of money on sunglasses. They never end up quite to my liking when I spend more than twenty dollars, and I feel reluctant loyalty to them out of the sheer fact that I could have bought pizza for what they cost. This leaves me with a desire for cheap plastic glasses, the kind you see on a rack in the grocery store near the registers. Never more than fifteen dollars, these oddities shield my eyes from migraine-inducing sunlight while looking to be worth every dollar paid.
These sunglasses, purchased at Fresh Market, are fabulous. They are brown-tinted, which I prefer, and rimmed with brown plastic. However, said plastic is accentuated with a rather vibrant teal. Most importantly, the sides are set with four stunning plastic "diamonds," each of which really give the glasses personality and a sense of mystique.
Would I pay more than ten dollars for these beauties? Absolutely not. I could pay more for sunglasses that look better and irritate the living fuck out of me, or I could pay ten dollars for strange plastic glasses that amuse me. We should choose our apparel based on what makes us happy; those who claim we dress for others have never worn a onesie.
My new sunglasses made me happy with their novelty and their affordability. What made you happy today?
Changes
As my latest post was well over a year ago, I consider this a kind of starting-over point with this blog. I've got a new name and a new URL; with it, a new sense of dedication. I vow the following:
That said, here are the realities:
Given these, I would not hope for much. I would like to meet your expectations; thus, those ought to be set fairly low. I can be witty, but I can also be boring and wildly uninteresting. If you're bored or wildly uninterested, best to wander off now.
- I will update regularly.
- I will add photos of things I like.
- I will generate entertaining themes for posts.
- I will not wait to post again until 2015.
That said, here are the realities:
- I am lazy.
- I am extremely lazy.
- I swear too much to be family friendly or particularly work appropriate.
- I would literally forget my own ass at home were it not attached, so help me God.
Given these, I would not hope for much. I would like to meet your expectations; thus, those ought to be set fairly low. I can be witty, but I can also be boring and wildly uninteresting. If you're bored or wildly uninterested, best to wander off now.
Monday, June 3, 2013
New Shoes
Shoe shopping is stereotypically associated with women- women supposedly love to buy shoes, own tons of shoes, can't get enough shoes. Well, here's my deal- shoe shopping is painful. Not physically painful (usually), but emotionally painful. This is due to the fact that I have an extraordinary foot problem.
My Left foot- long, narrow, perfect for heels- is a women's size 9 (US). My right foot is a size 5. While my left foot has long perfect toes, my right's are stunted little stubs. This is because I had Amniotic Band Syndrome in utero, which essentially cut off development for my right foot. My metatarsal 1, also called the Big Toe, was amputated completely, and I was born with only four tiny toes on that foot.
This means that, while others may enjoy buying shoes, I have loathed such an activity for most of my life. Because of the shape of my right foot, I flat-out cannot wear most kinds of sandals and heels. I have an orthotic insert for sneakers, boots, and lace-ups. This means that if the shoe's insert can't be removed to make room for my orthotic, I don't buy it. The orthotic doesn't bend, which means it can't be worn in any shoes with a heel that causes the sole to be curved. If I do want a pair of sandals (that don't have a T-strap, mind you, I can't wear those) or heels, I have to buy two pairs. More importantly, I have to find two pairs of the same shoe that are in size 9 (pretty easily found) and a size 5 (almost non-existent). I then have to shell out twice as much money as the normal purchaser would. Two-for-one deals are like goddamned Christmas to me.
Recently, I ventured into the world of online shoe shopping. At a lot of sites, you can get pretty good deals and you're more likely to find a 5. However, I can't hold them in my hands, judge whether or not they are going to work well with my poorly-designed foot. This also means returning said purchases is harder, which means the anticipation is worse. I ordered two pairs of a flat shoe recently, and they arrived today. I spent about a week being nervous about them- would they fit right, would they be the right sizes, et cetera. They arrived, fit perfectly, and made me wildly happy. Through the miracle of the internet, I am gradually coming to terms with my hatred of shoe shopping.
It's not as bad of a problem as, say, having no right foot at all, but it's something that affects my life every single day. Because of its shape, it gets weird muscle cramps. My knee has a lot of problems and because I'm missing some muscle attachment sites that are normally located on the structure of the big toe, my leg muscles are in a lot pain when I do certain activities. If regenerative medical technology gets good enough, I have every intention of having it replaced. It's not like having unruly hair or oily skin. It causes me problems that, because of the rarity of my condition, cannot be anticipated by doctors. It sucks. And up until now, shoe shopping has constantly served as a reminder of that.
So yeah, I got new shoes today. They fit well and I like them. And that's a pretty big accomplishment.
My Left foot- long, narrow, perfect for heels- is a women's size 9 (US). My right foot is a size 5. While my left foot has long perfect toes, my right's are stunted little stubs. This is because I had Amniotic Band Syndrome in utero, which essentially cut off development for my right foot. My metatarsal 1, also called the Big Toe, was amputated completely, and I was born with only four tiny toes on that foot.
This means that, while others may enjoy buying shoes, I have loathed such an activity for most of my life. Because of the shape of my right foot, I flat-out cannot wear most kinds of sandals and heels. I have an orthotic insert for sneakers, boots, and lace-ups. This means that if the shoe's insert can't be removed to make room for my orthotic, I don't buy it. The orthotic doesn't bend, which means it can't be worn in any shoes with a heel that causes the sole to be curved. If I do want a pair of sandals (that don't have a T-strap, mind you, I can't wear those) or heels, I have to buy two pairs. More importantly, I have to find two pairs of the same shoe that are in size 9 (pretty easily found) and a size 5 (almost non-existent). I then have to shell out twice as much money as the normal purchaser would. Two-for-one deals are like goddamned Christmas to me.
Recently, I ventured into the world of online shoe shopping. At a lot of sites, you can get pretty good deals and you're more likely to find a 5. However, I can't hold them in my hands, judge whether or not they are going to work well with my poorly-designed foot. This also means returning said purchases is harder, which means the anticipation is worse. I ordered two pairs of a flat shoe recently, and they arrived today. I spent about a week being nervous about them- would they fit right, would they be the right sizes, et cetera. They arrived, fit perfectly, and made me wildly happy. Through the miracle of the internet, I am gradually coming to terms with my hatred of shoe shopping.
It's not as bad of a problem as, say, having no right foot at all, but it's something that affects my life every single day. Because of its shape, it gets weird muscle cramps. My knee has a lot of problems and because I'm missing some muscle attachment sites that are normally located on the structure of the big toe, my leg muscles are in a lot pain when I do certain activities. If regenerative medical technology gets good enough, I have every intention of having it replaced. It's not like having unruly hair or oily skin. It causes me problems that, because of the rarity of my condition, cannot be anticipated by doctors. It sucks. And up until now, shoe shopping has constantly served as a reminder of that.
So yeah, I got new shoes today. They fit well and I like them. And that's a pretty big accomplishment.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Christmas Decorations
It's that time of the year- THE HOLIDAYS™ are upon us. Store shelves laden with tinsel and snowmen figurines, strands of small lightbulbs stapled to porches and wrapped around fences, wreaths made of everything from actual fir tree limbs to pinecones to shining garland. And you want to know the biggest secret of all (read: not a secret at all)?
I love Christmas.
Specifically, I love Christmas decorations. I love dragging the fake tree out of the closet (I am, in fact, allergic to real trees), I love taking an hour to put the lights on because they must be evenly spaced, I love carefully planning the placement of each and every ornament. I love candy canes of all flavors and I love getting out my light-up snowman to put in the window.
Someday, when I am not a poor college student, I will buy everything in the holiday isle at the store. I will have five trees and so many lights that my whole house glows. Every available surface will be wrapped in various colors of garland and I will make hundreds of paper snowflakes to hang from the ceiling. I will put real snowmen all over the front yard (or fake ones, if global warming continues to ruin Christmas). I will put up these decorations in early November and take them down around Valentine's Day (probably the worst of all holidays).
The real kicker about all of this is that I am not a Christian. I quit when I was ten, which means I have technically been a not-Christian longer than I was a Christian. I don't care about the Bible, I don't care about any of the mythology. It is my understanding that Jesus wasn't even born in the winter. I have no interest in any of that.
What I do love is the joy that a decorated tree gives me. I love the memories wrapped up in my family's collection of ornaments. I love our nativity scene, not because of the Jesus part, but because I colored on some of it with crayon when I was a kid. I love hearing stories about the holidays- like the one about my great-uncle drunkenly crashing into the tree while riding a pogo stick indoors.
I love the morning of, when my sister and I get up early and then wait as long as we can before charging into my parents' room to make them get out of bed. I love watching my family members react to their gifts- one year we got my dad a ghillie suit (Google it) and a pair of Wellington boots. He proceeded to run out into the driveway while wearing said items and bellowed. It was hilarious.
So that's why I love Christmas. It isn't about religion, for me, any more than Halloween is about religion. It's important to me because it both appeals to the obsessive side of me, and to the sentimental side of me. It's about making good food, putting up flawless decorations, and enjoying my loud and crazy family.
So yes, I put up Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving. In fact, I whistle Christmas carols while I decorate. I would not have it any other way.
I love Christmas.
Specifically, I love Christmas decorations. I love dragging the fake tree out of the closet (I am, in fact, allergic to real trees), I love taking an hour to put the lights on because they must be evenly spaced, I love carefully planning the placement of each and every ornament. I love candy canes of all flavors and I love getting out my light-up snowman to put in the window.
Someday, when I am not a poor college student, I will buy everything in the holiday isle at the store. I will have five trees and so many lights that my whole house glows. Every available surface will be wrapped in various colors of garland and I will make hundreds of paper snowflakes to hang from the ceiling. I will put real snowmen all over the front yard (or fake ones, if global warming continues to ruin Christmas). I will put up these decorations in early November and take them down around Valentine's Day (probably the worst of all holidays).
The real kicker about all of this is that I am not a Christian. I quit when I was ten, which means I have technically been a not-Christian longer than I was a Christian. I don't care about the Bible, I don't care about any of the mythology. It is my understanding that Jesus wasn't even born in the winter. I have no interest in any of that.
What I do love is the joy that a decorated tree gives me. I love the memories wrapped up in my family's collection of ornaments. I love our nativity scene, not because of the Jesus part, but because I colored on some of it with crayon when I was a kid. I love hearing stories about the holidays- like the one about my great-uncle drunkenly crashing into the tree while riding a pogo stick indoors.
I love the morning of, when my sister and I get up early and then wait as long as we can before charging into my parents' room to make them get out of bed. I love watching my family members react to their gifts- one year we got my dad a ghillie suit (Google it) and a pair of Wellington boots. He proceeded to run out into the driveway while wearing said items and bellowed. It was hilarious.
So that's why I love Christmas. It isn't about religion, for me, any more than Halloween is about religion. It's important to me because it both appeals to the obsessive side of me, and to the sentimental side of me. It's about making good food, putting up flawless decorations, and enjoying my loud and crazy family.
So yes, I put up Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving. In fact, I whistle Christmas carols while I decorate. I would not have it any other way.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Pioneer Day Anniversary
Today is Pioneer Day, which marks that I have officially lived in Salt Lake City for two whole years. Two years ago today, my mom and I finished moving in all my stuff, had the cable and internet set up, and watched the (slightly racist) Pioneer Day parade.
It's been a strange trip, these last two years. My grandfather died, my mentor died, my lizard died. I swore at Mormons, I went to football games, I ate Jello. I watched cars slide down the street when it was covered in ice, and I watched a lightning-infused snowstorm. I enjoyed walking home from school on nice days, and I survived the trip home when the weather was bad.
I survived paying taxes, power outages, and the Salt Lake County DMV. I spent a lot of time in the university's anthropology department, too much time in the library, and not enough time in the gym. I made a lot of food, ate a lot of food, and managed to avoid setting my apartment on fire.
I'm not sure what I was expecting when I moved here. I picked Utah because I had friends here, and it was somewhere that wasn't where I was. I guess that's what made it a good thing- I didn't expect anything of this place. I'd been in Utah once, for the Salt Lake Olympics. I didn't know what it looked like, what living here was like. I had no set expectations.
Am I always happy here? No, of course not. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone who is always happy, regardless of where they are. But moving to Salt Lake has made me an adult, a real one, because I can cope when things are less-than-perfect. I can solve my problems for myself, and I feel like that is the biggest thing moving here has given me.
This isn't a long post, because it's easier to write witty one-liners that sum up my experiences than try to write a memoir. The summary of this, I guess, is that I've had a good two years in Salt Lake. And I have every intention of staying here.
It's been a strange trip, these last two years. My grandfather died, my mentor died, my lizard died. I swore at Mormons, I went to football games, I ate Jello. I watched cars slide down the street when it was covered in ice, and I watched a lightning-infused snowstorm. I enjoyed walking home from school on nice days, and I survived the trip home when the weather was bad.
I survived paying taxes, power outages, and the Salt Lake County DMV. I spent a lot of time in the university's anthropology department, too much time in the library, and not enough time in the gym. I made a lot of food, ate a lot of food, and managed to avoid setting my apartment on fire.
I'm not sure what I was expecting when I moved here. I picked Utah because I had friends here, and it was somewhere that wasn't where I was. I guess that's what made it a good thing- I didn't expect anything of this place. I'd been in Utah once, for the Salt Lake Olympics. I didn't know what it looked like, what living here was like. I had no set expectations.
Am I always happy here? No, of course not. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone who is always happy, regardless of where they are. But moving to Salt Lake has made me an adult, a real one, because I can cope when things are less-than-perfect. I can solve my problems for myself, and I feel like that is the biggest thing moving here has given me.
This isn't a long post, because it's easier to write witty one-liners that sum up my experiences than try to write a memoir. The summary of this, I guess, is that I've had a good two years in Salt Lake. And I have every intention of staying here.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
If Preparedness is Next to Godliness, These People are Holy.
So, let's talk a little bit about everyone's favorite subject, Mormons. I do adore them most days, in the way I am entertained by the Smurfs- there is nothing remotely attractive about being a Smurf, but it's a lifestyle I don't understand and find fascinating. I also talk a lot of trash about Mormons, because they have quite a few rules that are just not for me (particularly the ones about swearing and drinking).
But occasionally, I do need to give them credit. Underneath all of the capped sleeves and boring suits, these are people who do seem to legitimately care about their community, and this is why Utah will be a great place to live when the zombie apocalypse finally hits. That, or it will be a theocratic hell. I'm guessing it's a combination of those two.
Like I was saying, they do things that impress me sometimes, and right now would be one of those times. See, I don't know if you pay much attention to what goes on in the Wild West, but it is dry. I mean, goddamned dry. Drier than Temple Square on a Sunday. There are currently wildfires everywhere in this state that grow by the thousands of acres. Not nearly as bad as Colorado, but if the whole hot, dry, windy thing continues, we're going to look remarkably like our neighboring state.
Right now, it is 100 degrees (Fahrenheit) with wind speeds at around 30 miles per hour. These are perfect conditions if you are a wildfire, and the worst conditions if you are a living being.
I am telling you all of this as a bit of a prologue to the main story. See, the closest fire to Salt Lake shot from being around 800 acres on Friday morning to 4,000 Friday night. This growth was so alarming that the police evacuated multiple neighborhoods in the towns of Eagle Mountain and Saratoga Springs (displacing about 9,000 people Friday night). What is incredible to me is that these people all took it in stride. The firefighters actually received so much food from volunteers that they started turning away donations. They had a shelter at one of the high schools up and running, plus multiple places that were housing animals free of charge. The families evacuated left their homes with almost no fuss, and they all had 72 hour kits ready for when they left (Google it if you've never heard the phrase "72 hour kit" before).
This is what impresses me about Mormon culture: they are prepared for anything. For all their high and mighty bullshit, they will drop everything and lend a hand when disaster strikes. I suppose a part of it is that they're waiting for the apocalypse. I mean, the "Latter Days" part of Latter-Day Saints is referring to waiting for the Savior (typed "savor" the first time, lololol) to return and go all Revelations on our asses, right? Part of their dogma is that they legitimately believe that's coming any day now, that we're at the end of days, and if we don't have our survival supplies ready at the door, Baby Jesus will cry. (Okay, made up the last bit).
Like those Daily Bread products (Again, Google is the friend of anyone unfamiliar with these strange Mormon ways). Daily Bread offers MREs that are supposed to be good for twenty-five years! Seriously! Can you imagine buying products that are going to sit in your basement for the next quarter-century, all so when the zombies show up you can still have your freeze-dried chicken fajitas? Well, the Mormons can imagine doing just such a thing, because Daily Bread ads are all over here.
This is how they live their lives- a low dose of paranoia every day. They have guns, they have indestructible food, they have survival kits ready to go in the hall closets, they have water purifiers in the trunks of their cars. On the one hand, I love it; on any given day, I would rather be fighting off the zombie hordes during an apocalypse than doing homework. On the other hand, though, it creeps me out a little. These are people who live in a constant state of low-grade fear.
Let's be honest here, though. When you live in a place like Utah, wildfires, avalanches, and earthquakes are all very real possibilities. We could potentially have the power go out for weeks because it is ten degrees outside and everything is frozen. It's kind of an extreme place. So if a fire breaks out tomorrow and swoops down through the Avenues towards my apartment, I'm glad that there are people around me waiting with water bottles and a sincere desire to help.
But occasionally, I do need to give them credit. Underneath all of the capped sleeves and boring suits, these are people who do seem to legitimately care about their community, and this is why Utah will be a great place to live when the zombie apocalypse finally hits. That, or it will be a theocratic hell. I'm guessing it's a combination of those two.
Like I was saying, they do things that impress me sometimes, and right now would be one of those times. See, I don't know if you pay much attention to what goes on in the Wild West, but it is dry. I mean, goddamned dry. Drier than Temple Square on a Sunday. There are currently wildfires everywhere in this state that grow by the thousands of acres. Not nearly as bad as Colorado, but if the whole hot, dry, windy thing continues, we're going to look remarkably like our neighboring state.
Right now, it is 100 degrees (Fahrenheit) with wind speeds at around 30 miles per hour. These are perfect conditions if you are a wildfire, and the worst conditions if you are a living being.
I am telling you all of this as a bit of a prologue to the main story. See, the closest fire to Salt Lake shot from being around 800 acres on Friday morning to 4,000 Friday night. This growth was so alarming that the police evacuated multiple neighborhoods in the towns of Eagle Mountain and Saratoga Springs (displacing about 9,000 people Friday night). What is incredible to me is that these people all took it in stride. The firefighters actually received so much food from volunteers that they started turning away donations. They had a shelter at one of the high schools up and running, plus multiple places that were housing animals free of charge. The families evacuated left their homes with almost no fuss, and they all had 72 hour kits ready for when they left (Google it if you've never heard the phrase "72 hour kit" before).
This is what impresses me about Mormon culture: they are prepared for anything. For all their high and mighty bullshit, they will drop everything and lend a hand when disaster strikes. I suppose a part of it is that they're waiting for the apocalypse. I mean, the "Latter Days" part of Latter-Day Saints is referring to waiting for the Savior (typed "savor" the first time, lololol) to return and go all Revelations on our asses, right? Part of their dogma is that they legitimately believe that's coming any day now, that we're at the end of days, and if we don't have our survival supplies ready at the door, Baby Jesus will cry. (Okay, made up the last bit).
Like those Daily Bread products (Again, Google is the friend of anyone unfamiliar with these strange Mormon ways). Daily Bread offers MREs that are supposed to be good for twenty-five years! Seriously! Can you imagine buying products that are going to sit in your basement for the next quarter-century, all so when the zombies show up you can still have your freeze-dried chicken fajitas? Well, the Mormons can imagine doing just such a thing, because Daily Bread ads are all over here.
This is how they live their lives- a low dose of paranoia every day. They have guns, they have indestructible food, they have survival kits ready to go in the hall closets, they have water purifiers in the trunks of their cars. On the one hand, I love it; on any given day, I would rather be fighting off the zombie hordes during an apocalypse than doing homework. On the other hand, though, it creeps me out a little. These are people who live in a constant state of low-grade fear.
Let's be honest here, though. When you live in a place like Utah, wildfires, avalanches, and earthquakes are all very real possibilities. We could potentially have the power go out for weeks because it is ten degrees outside and everything is frozen. It's kind of an extreme place. So if a fire breaks out tomorrow and swoops down through the Avenues towards my apartment, I'm glad that there are people around me waiting with water bottles and a sincere desire to help.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Why "Caucasian" is Discriminatory
This is a bit off-topic, but it's something that truly bugs me. Unfortunately, this is a concept so deeply embedded in our current culture that most do not consider these terms used to describe "race" beyond a superficial level.
First, I use quotations for the term "race" because I am a human biologist and, strictly speaking, there are no races in the human species. The biological term "race" denotes a subset of a particular species that is recognizable and distinct. Because no groups of humans meet these criteria, there are no races within Homo sapiens. Don't get me wrong, this is not an attempt at race denial or discrimination based on our cultural concepts of race. This is simply an attempt to clarify on a technical level, and as such, I'll be using "ethnicity" instead of "race," as ethnicity is a cultural construct used to divide populations. The continued use of the word "race" only serves as a continued white attempt to differentiate between white people and people of another demographic. Therefore, I reject the word and substitute my own.
Anyway, this centers on the term "Caucasian," which, ironically, Google insists I capitalize. If you are white, I'm sure you're familiar with the term. Even if you're not white, you still probably hear the term constantly. In American culture, we have historically struggled with finding terms to describe ethnicity in ways that are not offensive to the groups being described. I don't need to go into that history, you can look it up yourself if you truly care to do so.
Of all the terms now seen as offensive, though, "Caucasian" has survived. Such a strange term, isn't it? I mean, when we think of people with European heritage, we generally do not think of the Caucasus (or Caucas) Mountains, which form a geographical border between Europe and Asia (think Russia). Even those ethnicities like Italian or Spanish were not regarded as "white" until relatively recently. So why would we refer to those of Anglo-Saxon heritage as being from the Caucasus Mountains?
It's a fascinating story, and you can look it up for yourself if you want better detail, but the basic story is this: around the end of the eighteenth century, explorers uncovered human remains in the Caucasus Mountains. A skull found in these remains was regarded as being a "perfect" skull, a template, if you will, of what good, beautiful European people should look like. It was proposed that these remains represented the ancestors of all European people, simply because it was a subjectively-attractive skull. This is especially fascinating considering we hardly possess adequate technology for facial reproduction in this modern age. The fact that these remains were used as some kind of type example without any ability to know what the living human looked like stands as proof that this was about pure discrimination. The term "Caucasian," as it is used in terms of ethnicity in our culture, comes straight out of a desire to justify the division between Europe and the rest of the world.
So, while we have moved away from using terms used to describe various ethnicities that are seen as overtly discriminatory, we are still frequently using a term that originates in white history's continued attempt to prove there is a difference, and more importantly, there is a superior ethnicity. As a human biologist, I'm here to tell you that's a giant crock of shit. And that's a scientific term, you can quote me, if you like. My point here is that, while some apologists may prefer more specific terms like "Irish-American" or "English-American," the proper term for describing those of European heritage is either "European-American," or, for efficiency's sake, "white." It's not that hard, and if you're really that attached to such an outdated term as "Caucasian," you need to get a life.
First, I use quotations for the term "race" because I am a human biologist and, strictly speaking, there are no races in the human species. The biological term "race" denotes a subset of a particular species that is recognizable and distinct. Because no groups of humans meet these criteria, there are no races within Homo sapiens. Don't get me wrong, this is not an attempt at race denial or discrimination based on our cultural concepts of race. This is simply an attempt to clarify on a technical level, and as such, I'll be using "ethnicity" instead of "race," as ethnicity is a cultural construct used to divide populations. The continued use of the word "race" only serves as a continued white attempt to differentiate between white people and people of another demographic. Therefore, I reject the word and substitute my own.
Anyway, this centers on the term "Caucasian," which, ironically, Google insists I capitalize. If you are white, I'm sure you're familiar with the term. Even if you're not white, you still probably hear the term constantly. In American culture, we have historically struggled with finding terms to describe ethnicity in ways that are not offensive to the groups being described. I don't need to go into that history, you can look it up yourself if you truly care to do so.
Of all the terms now seen as offensive, though, "Caucasian" has survived. Such a strange term, isn't it? I mean, when we think of people with European heritage, we generally do not think of the Caucasus (or Caucas) Mountains, which form a geographical border between Europe and Asia (think Russia). Even those ethnicities like Italian or Spanish were not regarded as "white" until relatively recently. So why would we refer to those of Anglo-Saxon heritage as being from the Caucasus Mountains?
It's a fascinating story, and you can look it up for yourself if you want better detail, but the basic story is this: around the end of the eighteenth century, explorers uncovered human remains in the Caucasus Mountains. A skull found in these remains was regarded as being a "perfect" skull, a template, if you will, of what good, beautiful European people should look like. It was proposed that these remains represented the ancestors of all European people, simply because it was a subjectively-attractive skull. This is especially fascinating considering we hardly possess adequate technology for facial reproduction in this modern age. The fact that these remains were used as some kind of type example without any ability to know what the living human looked like stands as proof that this was about pure discrimination. The term "Caucasian," as it is used in terms of ethnicity in our culture, comes straight out of a desire to justify the division between Europe and the rest of the world.
So, while we have moved away from using terms used to describe various ethnicities that are seen as overtly discriminatory, we are still frequently using a term that originates in white history's continued attempt to prove there is a difference, and more importantly, there is a superior ethnicity. As a human biologist, I'm here to tell you that's a giant crock of shit. And that's a scientific term, you can quote me, if you like. My point here is that, while some apologists may prefer more specific terms like "Irish-American" or "English-American," the proper term for describing those of European heritage is either "European-American," or, for efficiency's sake, "white." It's not that hard, and if you're really that attached to such an outdated term as "Caucasian," you need to get a life.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Oh, Activism
I guess it's been a bit, since the whole Blogger format's got me feeling a little disoriented. That's okay, because there is licorice, Jones Soda, and I am listening to Green Day for the first time in five years (I admit I'd forgotten about them, but that's what iTunes is for, right?)
So it's 4/20, and feel free to laugh at the implied marijuana joke. Alright, that's enough, thank you. It also is the "Day of Action" for those silly enough to fall for the whole Kony 2012 thing. So let us talk about activism and marketing, two subjects that go skipping down the lane of consciousness hand-in-hand.
Kony 2012 is a movement, for those of you thus far unexposed, that places at the focus Joseph Kony, a dictator of times since passed that was notorious for coercing and threatening children into joining his militia in Uganda. Of course, he is now a mostly-powerless old man who has since fled to the Democratic Republic of the Congo (a country so ironically named that it rivals The Peoples' Republic of China in ridiculousness) and has done little in the last ten years. Yes, to be fair, he is still a local threat and a war criminal. Given this, a campaign of the Kony 2012's magnitude is a tad overblown, would you not say?
Ah, but this is the magic that is marketing in activism. Throw it a little money, and you can turn everything from aging former terrorists to bugs in your berry frappe into a political movement. It is truly fascinating, how Adam Smith's invisible hand burrows into everything. You see, the base of the fervor behind this is a well-paid marketing strategy.
Invisible Children, the agency behind the Kony 2012 movement, has spent more money on their marketing strategy than they have on the actual cause- after reporting almost $14 million for 2011, they've spent about $3 million on programs in Africa and almost $4 million on film-making and presentations. (The USA Today article cites that they did not spend $6.5 million- http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/story/2012-04-17/kony-2012-invisible-children/54362478/1) Obviously, you're going to do a fair job of creating enthusiasm with that kind of money, even when the issue is considered by many to be past its prime. I liken it a bit to protesting the atrocities committed by Saddam Hussein and the Ba'ath Party (who doesn't love a good bath party every now and then?) in 2012, even when Saddam's been dead for almost a decade.
Look, there's nothing wrong with getting teenagers involved in activism. I did a fair amount of activism work when I was in high school. I aspire to work for non-profits as a career (as you can see, my tuition money's been money well-spent). I love activism and I love seeing people get involved in something, but there are other causes out there that could really use this kind of publicity. I'm not trying to tell anyone what causes to support here, but I'm trying to tell people to pick and choose. I wish the people caught up in the Kony 2012 thing would spend some time and examine the issue. Examine the videos with a critical eye. Why, exactly, would any humanitarian activism request that you commit misdemeanors in order to promote the cause? Why would they demand that you use their "kits" in order to raise awareness? Why would they rely heavily on outdated information to create a relevant movement?
I've had to work pretty hard to understand the causes I get behind, and there have been plenty of causes I either abandon after further examination or pick up after further examination. If you have thoroughly examined the Kony 2012 movement, looked at how the agency spends money, read about the conflict in Central Africa, and you still support it, then I have no problem with you. However, if you are willing to base support for a campaign solely on a video on YouTube, I have nothing to say to you.
So it's 4/20, and feel free to laugh at the implied marijuana joke. Alright, that's enough, thank you. It also is the "Day of Action" for those silly enough to fall for the whole Kony 2012 thing. So let us talk about activism and marketing, two subjects that go skipping down the lane of consciousness hand-in-hand.
Kony 2012 is a movement, for those of you thus far unexposed, that places at the focus Joseph Kony, a dictator of times since passed that was notorious for coercing and threatening children into joining his militia in Uganda. Of course, he is now a mostly-powerless old man who has since fled to the Democratic Republic of the Congo (a country so ironically named that it rivals The Peoples' Republic of China in ridiculousness) and has done little in the last ten years. Yes, to be fair, he is still a local threat and a war criminal. Given this, a campaign of the Kony 2012's magnitude is a tad overblown, would you not say?
Ah, but this is the magic that is marketing in activism. Throw it a little money, and you can turn everything from aging former terrorists to bugs in your berry frappe into a political movement. It is truly fascinating, how Adam Smith's invisible hand burrows into everything. You see, the base of the fervor behind this is a well-paid marketing strategy.
Invisible Children, the agency behind the Kony 2012 movement, has spent more money on their marketing strategy than they have on the actual cause- after reporting almost $14 million for 2011, they've spent about $3 million on programs in Africa and almost $4 million on film-making and presentations. (The USA Today article cites that they did not spend $6.5 million- http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/story/2012-04-17/kony-2012-invisible-children/54362478/1) Obviously, you're going to do a fair job of creating enthusiasm with that kind of money, even when the issue is considered by many to be past its prime. I liken it a bit to protesting the atrocities committed by Saddam Hussein and the Ba'ath Party (who doesn't love a good bath party every now and then?) in 2012, even when Saddam's been dead for almost a decade.
Look, there's nothing wrong with getting teenagers involved in activism. I did a fair amount of activism work when I was in high school. I aspire to work for non-profits as a career (as you can see, my tuition money's been money well-spent). I love activism and I love seeing people get involved in something, but there are other causes out there that could really use this kind of publicity. I'm not trying to tell anyone what causes to support here, but I'm trying to tell people to pick and choose. I wish the people caught up in the Kony 2012 thing would spend some time and examine the issue. Examine the videos with a critical eye. Why, exactly, would any humanitarian activism request that you commit misdemeanors in order to promote the cause? Why would they demand that you use their "kits" in order to raise awareness? Why would they rely heavily on outdated information to create a relevant movement?
I've had to work pretty hard to understand the causes I get behind, and there have been plenty of causes I either abandon after further examination or pick up after further examination. If you have thoroughly examined the Kony 2012 movement, looked at how the agency spends money, read about the conflict in Central Africa, and you still support it, then I have no problem with you. However, if you are willing to base support for a campaign solely on a video on YouTube, I have nothing to say to you.
Friday, March 2, 2012
It Makes Me So Mad.
This contraception debate really, truly makes me want to cry.
Normally, I can brush this shit off at some point. But the things being said are so personally offensive that I can hardly even talk about it without screaming. I just don't even know what to say about it all anymore. I mean, it is horrifying and severely disappointing to find out that the people elected to represent the citizens of America do not even think I am a person who is capable of human functions, such as thought. It is so mentally destructive to hear these fucks claim that employers shouldn't have to pay for my healthcare if they don't think I deserve it. That is not how this works. People who have guaranteed health insurance and access to healthcare (representatives) should not be able to pass laws that say others are not deserving of healthcare simply because they are women. It is clear to me now that these are people who not only do not care about me, but actually want to do me harm. These are people who think I do not deserve to be treated like a human being. These are people (mostly men, unfortunately) who are so determined to reinforce the barriers separating people like me from gaining power that they will actually jeopardize my health.
It disgusts me. It makes my skin crawl. It fills me with so much rage that I want to take a sledgehammer and start breaking things.
This last week, in the ongoing war over my uterus, I've been called a sex-addicted slut simply for being on birth control. (Thanks Rush.) I wish I could simply believe that people who say things like this are ignorant, that they don't understand the myriad of reasons a woman might take hormonal birth control. But I cannot believe that. People in these positions of power have, undoubtedly, had this pointed out to them. The truth is that they don't care. They don't care that hormonal birth control is used to treat severe menstrual symptoms, or ovarian cysts, or hormonal imbalances. That does not matter to people like Rush Limbaugh, because people like him do not care about women. They don't care that without legalized abortion, women die. They don't care that doctors cannot treat a woman who is bleeding to death, because it would abort the fetus. None of this matters to them, because people like this see women as expendable less-than-human beings.
There is no way to clue in people like this. They are so far beyond help that there are not words in the English language that will change their minds. Women, in their minds, will never be capable of being as smart, or as talented, or as strong, as they are. They do not view people like me as equals, or even as rivals- they view us as no better than children. They see us as ignorant lesser beings who should not be given any kind of power.
This is not a characteristic of all men, and it infuriates me when people imply that this is somehow a trait that all men share. It is not. For one, there are (inexplicably) women who argue that we are not as capable as men. More importantly, there are men in this world who are just as infuriated as I am. I've been fortunate to have so many male peers who see me as an equal. It is reassuring to know that there are men out there who believe I should have every right to do whatever I want with my body.
Because the truth is that it is none of anyone's business, what I am doing with my uterus, or my breasts, or my earlobes. It should not matter whether I take birth control because I like sex or because I have a hormonal imbalance. It is between me and my health care provider, and no one else. I don't ask to know why anyone else takes a prescription drug, and I don't know why my prescription should be anyone else's business. The reason that I deserve to have my prescription paid for by my health insurance is because that is what health insurance is for. It is there to assist us with medical costs. It helps pay for insulin, and painkillers, and power scooters, so why should my medical needs be excluded? It would be one thing to argue we should do away with health insurance, and that is a different discussion for a different time. However, it is basic discrimination to argue that only my medical needs should not be covered, simply because some people personally do not like it. I personally do not like people who get free power scooters, and yet I see no "conscience" argument against providing for them. This is not about your conscience. Your conscience has no fucking business in my medical decisions. If you want to pretend the space beneath my underwear is nondescript and looks like a Barbie-crotch, fine. I don't care. But wanting me to pretend that about myself? No. Fuck no. I'm not interested in this religious guilt-tripping, because I have nothing to feel guilty for. I have not violated any of my own ideals. So why exactly should I be penalized according to beliefs I do not believe in?
Normally, I can brush this shit off at some point. But the things being said are so personally offensive that I can hardly even talk about it without screaming. I just don't even know what to say about it all anymore. I mean, it is horrifying and severely disappointing to find out that the people elected to represent the citizens of America do not even think I am a person who is capable of human functions, such as thought. It is so mentally destructive to hear these fucks claim that employers shouldn't have to pay for my healthcare if they don't think I deserve it. That is not how this works. People who have guaranteed health insurance and access to healthcare (representatives) should not be able to pass laws that say others are not deserving of healthcare simply because they are women. It is clear to me now that these are people who not only do not care about me, but actually want to do me harm. These are people who think I do not deserve to be treated like a human being. These are people (mostly men, unfortunately) who are so determined to reinforce the barriers separating people like me from gaining power that they will actually jeopardize my health.
It disgusts me. It makes my skin crawl. It fills me with so much rage that I want to take a sledgehammer and start breaking things.
This last week, in the ongoing war over my uterus, I've been called a sex-addicted slut simply for being on birth control. (Thanks Rush.) I wish I could simply believe that people who say things like this are ignorant, that they don't understand the myriad of reasons a woman might take hormonal birth control. But I cannot believe that. People in these positions of power have, undoubtedly, had this pointed out to them. The truth is that they don't care. They don't care that hormonal birth control is used to treat severe menstrual symptoms, or ovarian cysts, or hormonal imbalances. That does not matter to people like Rush Limbaugh, because people like him do not care about women. They don't care that without legalized abortion, women die. They don't care that doctors cannot treat a woman who is bleeding to death, because it would abort the fetus. None of this matters to them, because people like this see women as expendable less-than-human beings.
There is no way to clue in people like this. They are so far beyond help that there are not words in the English language that will change their minds. Women, in their minds, will never be capable of being as smart, or as talented, or as strong, as they are. They do not view people like me as equals, or even as rivals- they view us as no better than children. They see us as ignorant lesser beings who should not be given any kind of power.
This is not a characteristic of all men, and it infuriates me when people imply that this is somehow a trait that all men share. It is not. For one, there are (inexplicably) women who argue that we are not as capable as men. More importantly, there are men in this world who are just as infuriated as I am. I've been fortunate to have so many male peers who see me as an equal. It is reassuring to know that there are men out there who believe I should have every right to do whatever I want with my body.
Because the truth is that it is none of anyone's business, what I am doing with my uterus, or my breasts, or my earlobes. It should not matter whether I take birth control because I like sex or because I have a hormonal imbalance. It is between me and my health care provider, and no one else. I don't ask to know why anyone else takes a prescription drug, and I don't know why my prescription should be anyone else's business. The reason that I deserve to have my prescription paid for by my health insurance is because that is what health insurance is for. It is there to assist us with medical costs. It helps pay for insulin, and painkillers, and power scooters, so why should my medical needs be excluded? It would be one thing to argue we should do away with health insurance, and that is a different discussion for a different time. However, it is basic discrimination to argue that only my medical needs should not be covered, simply because some people personally do not like it. I personally do not like people who get free power scooters, and yet I see no "conscience" argument against providing for them. This is not about your conscience. Your conscience has no fucking business in my medical decisions. If you want to pretend the space beneath my underwear is nondescript and looks like a Barbie-crotch, fine. I don't care. But wanting me to pretend that about myself? No. Fuck no. I'm not interested in this religious guilt-tripping, because I have nothing to feel guilty for. I have not violated any of my own ideals. So why exactly should I be penalized according to beliefs I do not believe in?
Thursday, February 16, 2012
I Should Put a Bayer Aspirin Where? Oh, For Fuck's Sake.
You. You there. You, wearing the business suit and boring tie. The one carrying the Bible around and talking about Baby Jesus. Yes, I am talking to you.
What makes you think you have any right to talk about what I do with my uterus? That is disgusting. You don't even know me. You don't know my motives for doing what I do. Why would you think you're a better authority on my genitalia than I am?
Do not talk about my vagina, my uterus, or my ovaries. Do not even think about them. That is beyond revolting. You should be arrested for sexual harassment. Why the hell would you think it's okay to discuss my body parts? Why would you think it's okay for you to make medical decisions for me?
And don't try to tell me that it's because you care about potential life. That is bullshit and you know it. You don't care about life. If you did, we wouldn't still be involved in a major war. We wouldn't have supporters of the death penalty. We'd have adequate medical care for everyone and paid-for childcare programs. That's what it would look like if you cared about life, alright? This isn't about "protecting life." This is about control. This is about shaming women who have, for one reason or another, gotten pregnant. This is about keeping the glass ceiling firmly in place.
And don't you dare try to tell me that some of your best friends are women. I don't care. Half of the world's population has ovaries, so chances are pretty damned good you're acquainted with a few card-carrying vagina-owners.
Do not try to tell me that your mother thought about aborting you. You were not "you" at that point, and obviously she decided to keep you. She decided to give up almost a year of her life to be an incubator of sorts. You were a parasite; I know, it's hard to think about. You leeched your mother's health from her. You made her sick, you compromised her immune system, and you fucked with her social life. And she made the decision to do all of that, which resulted in your existence. You should be grateful for your mother, and how dare you try to claim that other women should be forced to give up all of that. That is unconstitutional, and that is inhuman.
And don't you fucking tell me that it's only nine months. Are you willing to be held hostage and potentially jeopardize your life for nine months? Are you willing to pay the expenses involved in a healthy pregnancy? It's nine months that will change the course of her life forever. She might miss school. She might miss the opportunity to excel in her career. She might miss the opportunity to earn money that will make the difference between having a home and being on the street. She might suffer social stigma. She might suffer mental damage from the experience and never be the same person.
But you don't care about any of that, because you do not care about women. You do not care about maintaining access to reliable healthcare for women. You do not care that places like Planned Parenthood are often the only healthcare providers available to women. You do not care that the chances of dying during an abortion were drastically reduced when abortion was legalized. This is not about trying to help the lives of women facing serious medical decisions; this is about maintaining patriarchal dominance.
If you are morally against birth control or abortion, that's fine. I don't care. I don't care if your religion states you have to slather yourself in strawberry preserves once a month to maintain the holy spirit. That's your business. But the moment you claim that my access to any medical service should be altered because you have a morality problem, I care. Whether or not I use birth control or get an abortion is between me and my doctor, not between me and the Catholic Church, or me and the Republican Party. It is no one's goddamned business but mine. You trying to make it your business makes me want to destroy everything within reach.
You know what would be a more worthwhile debate? The national debate. Legalizing marijuana. Banning cell phone use while driving. In fact, there are all kinds of topics that are worthwhile. But trying to take rights away from women because your celibate priest thinks sex is icky? Go fuck yourselves.
It shocks me that there are people who think they have any right at all to discuss what I am allowed to do with my uterus. I don't try to pass legislation that controls their medical options. I'm not interested in any law that limits the rights of individuals. I have no problem with those who are against abortions, nor do I have a problem with anyone who morally objects to anything else. The moment that objection goes so far as to limit my rights, when I do not share those moral objections, I will have a problem. As long as I am not harming anyone else, I should be free to do as I like. I don't use hormonal birth control because I like to have sex with strangers, I do it because I have a hormonal imbalance and it makes me functional. So the notion that some fuckhead named Rick Santorum or Foster Freiss thinks I don't deserve access to birth control because it will enable me to be a whore makes me SO MAD I cannot even express it in words. I do not hate men, and I would never generalize this about the entirety of the male population, but men who think they have any right to discuss my medical decisions should really just go shut the fuck up.
What makes you think you have any right to talk about what I do with my uterus? That is disgusting. You don't even know me. You don't know my motives for doing what I do. Why would you think you're a better authority on my genitalia than I am?
Do not talk about my vagina, my uterus, or my ovaries. Do not even think about them. That is beyond revolting. You should be arrested for sexual harassment. Why the hell would you think it's okay to discuss my body parts? Why would you think it's okay for you to make medical decisions for me?
And don't try to tell me that it's because you care about potential life. That is bullshit and you know it. You don't care about life. If you did, we wouldn't still be involved in a major war. We wouldn't have supporters of the death penalty. We'd have adequate medical care for everyone and paid-for childcare programs. That's what it would look like if you cared about life, alright? This isn't about "protecting life." This is about control. This is about shaming women who have, for one reason or another, gotten pregnant. This is about keeping the glass ceiling firmly in place.
And don't you dare try to tell me that some of your best friends are women. I don't care. Half of the world's population has ovaries, so chances are pretty damned good you're acquainted with a few card-carrying vagina-owners.
Do not try to tell me that your mother thought about aborting you. You were not "you" at that point, and obviously she decided to keep you. She decided to give up almost a year of her life to be an incubator of sorts. You were a parasite; I know, it's hard to think about. You leeched your mother's health from her. You made her sick, you compromised her immune system, and you fucked with her social life. And she made the decision to do all of that, which resulted in your existence. You should be grateful for your mother, and how dare you try to claim that other women should be forced to give up all of that. That is unconstitutional, and that is inhuman.
And don't you fucking tell me that it's only nine months. Are you willing to be held hostage and potentially jeopardize your life for nine months? Are you willing to pay the expenses involved in a healthy pregnancy? It's nine months that will change the course of her life forever. She might miss school. She might miss the opportunity to excel in her career. She might miss the opportunity to earn money that will make the difference between having a home and being on the street. She might suffer social stigma. She might suffer mental damage from the experience and never be the same person.
But you don't care about any of that, because you do not care about women. You do not care about maintaining access to reliable healthcare for women. You do not care that places like Planned Parenthood are often the only healthcare providers available to women. You do not care that the chances of dying during an abortion were drastically reduced when abortion was legalized. This is not about trying to help the lives of women facing serious medical decisions; this is about maintaining patriarchal dominance.
If you are morally against birth control or abortion, that's fine. I don't care. I don't care if your religion states you have to slather yourself in strawberry preserves once a month to maintain the holy spirit. That's your business. But the moment you claim that my access to any medical service should be altered because you have a morality problem, I care. Whether or not I use birth control or get an abortion is between me and my doctor, not between me and the Catholic Church, or me and the Republican Party. It is no one's goddamned business but mine. You trying to make it your business makes me want to destroy everything within reach.
You know what would be a more worthwhile debate? The national debate. Legalizing marijuana. Banning cell phone use while driving. In fact, there are all kinds of topics that are worthwhile. But trying to take rights away from women because your celibate priest thinks sex is icky? Go fuck yourselves.
It shocks me that there are people who think they have any right at all to discuss what I am allowed to do with my uterus. I don't try to pass legislation that controls their medical options. I'm not interested in any law that limits the rights of individuals. I have no problem with those who are against abortions, nor do I have a problem with anyone who morally objects to anything else. The moment that objection goes so far as to limit my rights, when I do not share those moral objections, I will have a problem. As long as I am not harming anyone else, I should be free to do as I like. I don't use hormonal birth control because I like to have sex with strangers, I do it because I have a hormonal imbalance and it makes me functional. So the notion that some fuckhead named Rick Santorum or Foster Freiss thinks I don't deserve access to birth control because it will enable me to be a whore makes me SO MAD I cannot even express it in words. I do not hate men, and I would never generalize this about the entirety of the male population, but men who think they have any right to discuss my medical decisions should really just go shut the fuck up.
Monday, January 30, 2012
A Short Blast of Fury for The Today Show
God.
Just... ugh.
I watch the Today Show every morning, every damned morning for about as long as I can remember. And it has at least one segment every morning that makes me slap my forehead. I'm used to it.
But this morning, they have this fucking ridiculous segment about re-naming things associated with women so that they can be for men- "murse," "mewelry," etc.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
God forbid men wear something that's for women, like a purse or jewelry. That would make them effeminate, and that would mean they're gay. Because, you know, the worst thing you could ever do is emulate female behavior. Everybody knows that women are weak.
What the fuck is wrong with people? Why the fuck would any woman, in her right mind, agree to do that segment? Why would anyone acknowledge that dumb waste of time? A murse? A man-purse? Since, you know, purses are for women. Oh, fuck you. Fuck you all. Fuck anyone who thinks this should be a thing. Taking something that is associated with women and changing the language "so it can be for men" makes me actually want to strangle someone. I'm really fucking glad that we're almost one hundred years from when women got the vote, but we are still changing our language so big, strong men don't have to be using the same things as dirty, dirty women.
A bunch of mouches. You know, man-douches.
Just... ugh.
I watch the Today Show every morning, every damned morning for about as long as I can remember. And it has at least one segment every morning that makes me slap my forehead. I'm used to it.
But this morning, they have this fucking ridiculous segment about re-naming things associated with women so that they can be for men- "murse," "mewelry," etc.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
God forbid men wear something that's for women, like a purse or jewelry. That would make them effeminate, and that would mean they're gay. Because, you know, the worst thing you could ever do is emulate female behavior. Everybody knows that women are weak.
What the fuck is wrong with people? Why the fuck would any woman, in her right mind, agree to do that segment? Why would anyone acknowledge that dumb waste of time? A murse? A man-purse? Since, you know, purses are for women. Oh, fuck you. Fuck you all. Fuck anyone who thinks this should be a thing. Taking something that is associated with women and changing the language "so it can be for men" makes me actually want to strangle someone. I'm really fucking glad that we're almost one hundred years from when women got the vote, but we are still changing our language so big, strong men don't have to be using the same things as dirty, dirty women.
A bunch of mouches. You know, man-douches.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Primaries Make Me Believe the End is Near
Well, there is another presidential debate on the tube, and all I have to say about that is Jay-sus Christ (would not be amused).
I mean, seriously. I know this is on Fox News, so my standards should be appropriately lowered, but come on. This is stupid. This has reached a point of blatant, proud ignorance that I cannot even fathom. I would need to drink Drano to get to this level.
It's shocking, really, that we have an entire faction of people in this country who buy into this crap. Really? You think we should lower taxes? What kind of fucking economics class did you take, candidates? I missed the part where cutting taxes to nothing does something positive for the system. Guess what- taxes pay for things. They don't just pay for grandma's healthcare, they also pay for such abominations as roads, schools, national parks, state parks, mass transit, universities, libraries, and regulatory services that keep us good and dandy like the Food and Drug Administration or the Internal Revenue Service (yes, the IRS is a good thing). This is insane. This isn't even capitalism. (This is not Sparta, either.)
Let's talk about capitalism. You see, capitalism isn't "evil." It isn't "good," either. It's a system that looks one way on paper and another way when you add humans. Capitalism, at its core, is a system motivated by companies and economics. Is that a negative? I don't think so. Ideally, a company cares first about its customers, second about its employees, and third about its profits. Why? Because it works. See, when you care about your customers, they buy your products. When they buy your products, you have the wealth to take care of your employees. When you take care of your employees, they have the opportunity to be customers somewhere else, where they spend money and, indirectly, pay money towards the incomes of people who will be your customers. When you disregard your employees and don't take care of them, they cannot afford to spend money. If they can't do that, other people cannot earn money. If there's no surplus money in peoples' pockets, they don't spend it at your company.
This model makes sense to me. It seems to be capitalism, in that we have a constant exchange of money- a back-and-forth flow of wealth, if you will. However, this is not the model we currently use.
What we have is not capitalism. It's a kind of "corporate socialism," in that when companies fail to care for their employees and customers, those companies' leaders are assured economic survival by the government. Even in the cases of companies not directly given money to stay afloat, they still benefit from laws (or lack thereof) that address "golden parachutes" and legal liability for the failure of a company. As long as this system persists, these corporations have no real motivation to care about the welfare of their employees and the rights of their customers.
But I digress. I'm not an economics person by training, and perhaps I'm being a bit of an idealist. All I mean by this is that these candidates are incorrect when they claim to support capitalism. What they support is not capitalism, because it is an unsustainable system to promote the wealth of the few and ignore the welfare of the many. What they support is a system in which the government supports corporations and their leaders without regard to the customers and employees those corporations have scorned. That is more socialist than anything Barack Obama has done, but it isn't in the interests of the citizens. This is why I call it corporate socialism, and I am terrified of it.
I mean, seriously. I know this is on Fox News, so my standards should be appropriately lowered, but come on. This is stupid. This has reached a point of blatant, proud ignorance that I cannot even fathom. I would need to drink Drano to get to this level.
It's shocking, really, that we have an entire faction of people in this country who buy into this crap. Really? You think we should lower taxes? What kind of fucking economics class did you take, candidates? I missed the part where cutting taxes to nothing does something positive for the system. Guess what- taxes pay for things. They don't just pay for grandma's healthcare, they also pay for such abominations as roads, schools, national parks, state parks, mass transit, universities, libraries, and regulatory services that keep us good and dandy like the Food and Drug Administration or the Internal Revenue Service (yes, the IRS is a good thing). This is insane. This isn't even capitalism. (This is not Sparta, either.)
Let's talk about capitalism. You see, capitalism isn't "evil." It isn't "good," either. It's a system that looks one way on paper and another way when you add humans. Capitalism, at its core, is a system motivated by companies and economics. Is that a negative? I don't think so. Ideally, a company cares first about its customers, second about its employees, and third about its profits. Why? Because it works. See, when you care about your customers, they buy your products. When they buy your products, you have the wealth to take care of your employees. When you take care of your employees, they have the opportunity to be customers somewhere else, where they spend money and, indirectly, pay money towards the incomes of people who will be your customers. When you disregard your employees and don't take care of them, they cannot afford to spend money. If they can't do that, other people cannot earn money. If there's no surplus money in peoples' pockets, they don't spend it at your company.
This model makes sense to me. It seems to be capitalism, in that we have a constant exchange of money- a back-and-forth flow of wealth, if you will. However, this is not the model we currently use.
What we have is not capitalism. It's a kind of "corporate socialism," in that when companies fail to care for their employees and customers, those companies' leaders are assured economic survival by the government. Even in the cases of companies not directly given money to stay afloat, they still benefit from laws (or lack thereof) that address "golden parachutes" and legal liability for the failure of a company. As long as this system persists, these corporations have no real motivation to care about the welfare of their employees and the rights of their customers.
But I digress. I'm not an economics person by training, and perhaps I'm being a bit of an idealist. All I mean by this is that these candidates are incorrect when they claim to support capitalism. What they support is not capitalism, because it is an unsustainable system to promote the wealth of the few and ignore the welfare of the many. What they support is a system in which the government supports corporations and their leaders without regard to the customers and employees those corporations have scorned. That is more socialist than anything Barack Obama has done, but it isn't in the interests of the citizens. This is why I call it corporate socialism, and I am terrified of it.
Friday, January 13, 2012
In Memoriam
Well, it has been a bit since I last posted. I've started my next semester of school, and it did not start out the way one would have hoped.
I study anthropology (the biological side, not so much the cultural side), and in particular I like osteology and forensic anthropology. The person who inspired this passion, Dr. Karen Ramey Burns, passed away quite unexpectedly last weekend, two days before I was to take forensic anthropology from her. To say it was a shock would be an understatement of astronomical proportions- here was the woman who inspired the focus of my studies, suddenly taken from the world far too soon.
The head of the anthropology department himself informed us of this tragedy, and for that I am grateful. It was a far kinder way to deliver such horrible news than, say, a mass email. Given this, though, it was still an awful day for me and for everyone else who had known her or been inspired by her.
She helped to launch forensic anthropology to its current position in the scientific world, proving its importance by helping to identify victims of genocide, natural disasters, and acts of terrorism. She was one of the leaders in the attempt to uncover Amelia Earhart's fate. She identified remains after the attacks on the World Trade Center and in the wake of Hurricane Katrina's destruction. Dr. Burns helped to found an NGO in Colombia with the purpose of assisting families of victims in Colombia's current guerrilla war. She worked in Bosnia, Haiti, and Guatemala, to name a few.
Dr. Burns didn't do any of this to become famous; a person in this kind of field never does. She did what she did because she cared about people, both the dead and the living they left behind. It takes a strong person to be able to deal with these kinds of remains, and Dr. Burns was one of the strongest individuals I have ever encountered.
I only regret that I only had a year of her time. I sincerely wish I could have had the opportunity to know her better. In such a small amount of time, I was so inspired by everything she had to say. It entirely altered my view of the world, and my view of the dead. Her attitude towards physical anthropology changed my mind about what I wanted to do with my life. I have always had it in my mind that I want to help people, but Karen Ramey Burns made me want to help people who no longer had a way to help themselves. Her attitude made me want to help bring some closure to the families of those people.
Beyond that, Dr. Burns inspired me because her life flew in the face of the attitude that a woman can have a career or a family, but not both. I was already raised by a woman who disproved that theory, and I've never bought into that kind of bullshit thinking. Here was a woman who had managed an impressive career in a difficult field while raising a family. It inspired me further, with the idea that a woman could have a family while traveling the world to do work she believed in wholeheartedly.
To lose such a person is awful. Putting aside my own admiration for her, I thought of her children, and grandchildren. I thought of all the families she helped, all the students she taught, all the people she inspired. It breaks my heart to think of how fortunate I was to get to spend any time with such an inspiring mentor, and how much so many other people will be missing from their own lives because they never had the opportunity I had.
I imagine that such a glowing memorial of a person I hardly knew seems silly. Maybe I seem obsessed. I'm alright with that, because I know that these are genuine sentiments. When I entered school at University of Utah, I didn't know what I want to do. Dr. Burns changed my life, and now I know what I want to do. I've met plenty of people in the past that I respected and admired, but few that have truly changed my outlook on life. The world has lost one of the greatest people to ever grace its surface.
I study anthropology (the biological side, not so much the cultural side), and in particular I like osteology and forensic anthropology. The person who inspired this passion, Dr. Karen Ramey Burns, passed away quite unexpectedly last weekend, two days before I was to take forensic anthropology from her. To say it was a shock would be an understatement of astronomical proportions- here was the woman who inspired the focus of my studies, suddenly taken from the world far too soon.
The head of the anthropology department himself informed us of this tragedy, and for that I am grateful. It was a far kinder way to deliver such horrible news than, say, a mass email. Given this, though, it was still an awful day for me and for everyone else who had known her or been inspired by her.
She helped to launch forensic anthropology to its current position in the scientific world, proving its importance by helping to identify victims of genocide, natural disasters, and acts of terrorism. She was one of the leaders in the attempt to uncover Amelia Earhart's fate. She identified remains after the attacks on the World Trade Center and in the wake of Hurricane Katrina's destruction. Dr. Burns helped to found an NGO in Colombia with the purpose of assisting families of victims in Colombia's current guerrilla war. She worked in Bosnia, Haiti, and Guatemala, to name a few.
Dr. Burns didn't do any of this to become famous; a person in this kind of field never does. She did what she did because she cared about people, both the dead and the living they left behind. It takes a strong person to be able to deal with these kinds of remains, and Dr. Burns was one of the strongest individuals I have ever encountered.
I only regret that I only had a year of her time. I sincerely wish I could have had the opportunity to know her better. In such a small amount of time, I was so inspired by everything she had to say. It entirely altered my view of the world, and my view of the dead. Her attitude towards physical anthropology changed my mind about what I wanted to do with my life. I have always had it in my mind that I want to help people, but Karen Ramey Burns made me want to help people who no longer had a way to help themselves. Her attitude made me want to help bring some closure to the families of those people.
Beyond that, Dr. Burns inspired me because her life flew in the face of the attitude that a woman can have a career or a family, but not both. I was already raised by a woman who disproved that theory, and I've never bought into that kind of bullshit thinking. Here was a woman who had managed an impressive career in a difficult field while raising a family. It inspired me further, with the idea that a woman could have a family while traveling the world to do work she believed in wholeheartedly.
To lose such a person is awful. Putting aside my own admiration for her, I thought of her children, and grandchildren. I thought of all the families she helped, all the students she taught, all the people she inspired. It breaks my heart to think of how fortunate I was to get to spend any time with such an inspiring mentor, and how much so many other people will be missing from their own lives because they never had the opportunity I had.
I imagine that such a glowing memorial of a person I hardly knew seems silly. Maybe I seem obsessed. I'm alright with that, because I know that these are genuine sentiments. When I entered school at University of Utah, I didn't know what I want to do. Dr. Burns changed my life, and now I know what I want to do. I've met plenty of people in the past that I respected and admired, but few that have truly changed my outlook on life. The world has lost one of the greatest people to ever grace its surface.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Privacy and Piracy
Privacy is an interesting thing.
If you've ever wondered just how exposed you truly are, go ahead and Google your own name sometime. It's remarkably disturbing, the things that pop up. I guess, since I have two different social networking accounts and a blog, I should be used to it.
So, if I'm all over the Internet (not really, but for argument's sake), then how much of my information actually belongs to me? The art I post on Facebook, the words I write here, do those still belong to me? Are they mine, and mine alone, or do they now belong to the world?
The same question applies to any other form of media. If an artist releases a video on, say, YouTube, does it really still belong to that artist? Does a song still belong to the musician after it's bought and paid for online? Or is it public property, free to be distributed at the leisure of the users?
I cannot help but feel that the Internet has caused art to head towards the latter, rather than the former. But is that really such a bad thing? If a person cannot share your art with others, in any way, does that promote your name? What benefit do you have from keeping your work bottled? While royalties might produce some income, I feel it's safe to say actual performances and appearances are more profitable. If notoriety increases your worth, isn't it more beneficial for you to gain popularity in any way possible?
People who share music do not claim to have created the song, nor do they claim to be the artist. That is where I feel a line should be drawn- I'm not opposed to the sharing of art and media, but I am opposed to plagiarism. If I saw my writing on another site, I would be flattered- until someone claims those words as his or her own.
But how does anyone enforce something like this, except on a case-by-case basis? There is no foolproof way to verify the creator of something, unless their rights to the creation are enforced absolutely. This, however, is an impossible feat- the Internet is far too large for an entity to monitor everything equally.
I suppose this is the motivation for Congress's latest, sad attempt to do such policing. In this proposed piece of legislature, the users would become the police, reporting websites they personally deem in violation of vague copyright laws. This bill, however, gives law enforcers the ability to shut down access to reported websites without the due process that has served as a cornerstone of our judicial system.
The bill is so poorly-written, so vague, that it can only serve to harm the free flow of information over the Internet. Giving a government agency permission to condemn any reported website so blatantly violates freedom of speech.
I guess the question here is whether access to the Internet is a right or not. On the one hand, it is a channel for people to express themselves. On the other, however, there is no such thing as free Internet- we are required to pay some company in order to gain access. Is it our right to make ourselves more vulnerable, to give away information about ourselves, or is it a privilege to do so? If being on the Internet means that we give up certain parts of ourselves, would information such as music and art not also fall under this truth? Don't artists give up their right to absolute control when they choose to be a part of the Internet?
These are questions that are not about to be answered on my blog, or any blog. It is entirely possible that there are no answers, that the best we can do is come to an agreement on how to handle the Internet. However, the current approach is outdated and dangerous; we cannot use arcane methods to deal with such a modern problem. We need a modern solution.
If you've ever wondered just how exposed you truly are, go ahead and Google your own name sometime. It's remarkably disturbing, the things that pop up. I guess, since I have two different social networking accounts and a blog, I should be used to it.
So, if I'm all over the Internet (not really, but for argument's sake), then how much of my information actually belongs to me? The art I post on Facebook, the words I write here, do those still belong to me? Are they mine, and mine alone, or do they now belong to the world?
The same question applies to any other form of media. If an artist releases a video on, say, YouTube, does it really still belong to that artist? Does a song still belong to the musician after it's bought and paid for online? Or is it public property, free to be distributed at the leisure of the users?
I cannot help but feel that the Internet has caused art to head towards the latter, rather than the former. But is that really such a bad thing? If a person cannot share your art with others, in any way, does that promote your name? What benefit do you have from keeping your work bottled? While royalties might produce some income, I feel it's safe to say actual performances and appearances are more profitable. If notoriety increases your worth, isn't it more beneficial for you to gain popularity in any way possible?
People who share music do not claim to have created the song, nor do they claim to be the artist. That is where I feel a line should be drawn- I'm not opposed to the sharing of art and media, but I am opposed to plagiarism. If I saw my writing on another site, I would be flattered- until someone claims those words as his or her own.
But how does anyone enforce something like this, except on a case-by-case basis? There is no foolproof way to verify the creator of something, unless their rights to the creation are enforced absolutely. This, however, is an impossible feat- the Internet is far too large for an entity to monitor everything equally.
I suppose this is the motivation for Congress's latest, sad attempt to do such policing. In this proposed piece of legislature, the users would become the police, reporting websites they personally deem in violation of vague copyright laws. This bill, however, gives law enforcers the ability to shut down access to reported websites without the due process that has served as a cornerstone of our judicial system.
The bill is so poorly-written, so vague, that it can only serve to harm the free flow of information over the Internet. Giving a government agency permission to condemn any reported website so blatantly violates freedom of speech.
I guess the question here is whether access to the Internet is a right or not. On the one hand, it is a channel for people to express themselves. On the other, however, there is no such thing as free Internet- we are required to pay some company in order to gain access. Is it our right to make ourselves more vulnerable, to give away information about ourselves, or is it a privilege to do so? If being on the Internet means that we give up certain parts of ourselves, would information such as music and art not also fall under this truth? Don't artists give up their right to absolute control when they choose to be a part of the Internet?
These are questions that are not about to be answered on my blog, or any blog. It is entirely possible that there are no answers, that the best we can do is come to an agreement on how to handle the Internet. However, the current approach is outdated and dangerous; we cannot use arcane methods to deal with such a modern problem. We need a modern solution.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Thoughts on the 99%
After a man died at the Occupy Salt Lake City camp (a mixture of carbon monoxide poisoning and drug overdose is the current theory), our mayor ordered the camp closed. They arrested about twenty people, and they used a bulldozer to take down the tents.
A bulldozer. To take down a few tents. A piece of equipment that probably costs thousands and thousands of dollars to insure and maintain, and they used it on some Coleman tents and cardboard lean-tos. They wasted thousands of dollars, taxpayer dollars, to make a show of force.
In other places, the police have arrested and/or beaten everyone from Iraq war vets to retired state Supreme Court justices. They took the press badges from any reporters trying to cover the eviction of the Occupy Wall Street protesters. This is in the same country that's made a point of claiming we have "freedom of the press."
What, exactly, is the motivation for these police officers, these supposed upholders of the law, to so blatantly disobey the most significant document in our country? Do they not realize that their pensions were most likely tied up in a stock market that bottomed out because of this "1%" they are now supporting with their actions? Do they not acknowledge that they are a part of this majority being forced to shoulder the burden of debt that others have manufactured? They so easily strike down people my age, and people my parents' age, and people your age. For what? Because they were told to do so? Have they never read the transcripts of the Nuremberg Trials?
Now, I would never go so far as to equate police to Nazis. They are nowhere near the same. This aside, the justification of "being told to do so" has been used time and again as an excuse to commit any number of atrocities.
Of course, a person cannot simply be told to support a movement, even when confronted with any number of facts. No, people will only begin to agree with the Occupy movement when they have made an emotional connection to it.
My connection is simple enough to understand- I was raised by the public education system with the impression that if I worked hard and went to college, life would be set. Now that I'm a year and a half from graduation and thousands of dollars in the hole with student loans, however, prospects seem grim. I worked hard, I paid my damned taxes last year, and yet I'm being asked to not only pay an exorbitant amount of money for my education, but I am also facing the prospect of having social programs I rely on slashed, simply because the richest people in this country do not feel like paying taxes.
Where is the justice in that? More so, where is the democracy? We live in a country with the second-lowest socio-economic mobility of all developed nations on the planet. My being not-rich is not a fault of my own, except that I was born into the wrong family. Because, as much as Herman Cain might protest otherwise, the biggest determining factor in your wealth as an adult is the economic class of your parents. While there certainly are exceptions to this, exceptions do not set the standard.
No, I was raised with the idea that when you earned more money than most people, it was your responsibility to contribute that good fortune back into society. I worked in soup kitchens, I donate money, I volunteer. It is not driven by some moral standard; it is driven by the knowledge that a society heavily-reliant upon its people cannot be successful unless everyone contributes as much as possible. If these rich people are "job creators," where exactly are all the jobs? What have they pumped back into their community?
Being a country run by its own people, for its own people, is a serious responsibility. With the acceptance of being a member of this country, you acknowledge that we need people, of all kinds. If you are unwilling to contribute, get out of this country. When the society as a whole is healthy and provided for, it is more efficient. Jobs do not magically arise out of the ether; rather, they come from necessity. When more people spend money within the system, demand rises. The people most likely to spend a large sum of money in their community are not that mysterious one percent. A person who earns fifty thousand dollars is far more likely to spend almost all of that than a person who earns several million.
Why, then, are people who are statistically part of this "99%" willing to support the other one? Perhaps because the one percent has worked hard to create in the minds of Americans the idea that you, too, can become a part of their exclusive club, as long as you support them. Evidence, of course, would suggest otherwise.
I suppose that what we have here is a massive failure to communicate. The people who believe they can aspire to be rich have been fed these fallacies by the very group they wish to join. They have come to believe the 99% movement is one of "young, self-entitled people," which is entirely untrue (as the name suggests, 99% of the population consists of more than twenty-somethings). They have been told that it is unfair to expect these wealthy people to pay taxes, because they (the wealthy) create jobs that simply are not there.
It is an entire system built on misinformation, and the vast majority of people are tired of it. These backwards stalwarts can either find a legitimate argument against the movement, or they can join it, but those who sit comfortably behind snide commentary like, "McDonald's is hiring" or "I bet they don't even pay taxes" are only destined to make idiots of themselves. They do not have to go down to the camps and join the literal occupation, but they are welcome to contact their representatives, vote against policies maintaining the status quo, and use their money to support those companies and campaigns with which they find common ground. Being a part of this movement is not about being anti-capitalist; it is about making sure that corporations remember who really pays their wages. Capitalism, much like democracy, cannot survive if it alienates the people upon which it relies. Being a part of this movement means you feel the system in which you exist has forgotten you're there. Change is real, and it can happen- look at the mega-banks changing their policies in anticipation of losing customers to credit unions. This isn't about drum circles, or tents, this is about a movement so big, so significant, that it is not restrained by physical boundaries. They have occupied Wall Street, and Los Angeles, and Boise, but they're also occupying blogs, they're occupying news sources, they're occupying Twitter and they're occupying Facebook. They're in multiple countries, they speak multiple languages, they come from different backgrounds. You can choose to be one of them, or you can choose to be surrounded by them.
My name is Meg, and I am a part of the 99%.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
A Story about Depression
One of my favorite bloggers has inspired this post. Today, she posted about everyone's favorite topic- depression.
Now, let me be clear- there is a huge cavern of difference between "feeling sad" and depression. Feeling sad is motivated by some occurrence, and anyone can suffer from it. People can suffer from profound sadness over any number of things. You can be sad because a relative died, and you can be sad because a hurricane devastated a group of people.
Depression is different.
Now, I cannot begin to vouch for anyone else's feelings, but I feel I'm pretty good at telling the difference between when I'm feeling sad and when I am suffering from genuine depression.
I was sad when my grandfather died last spring. I was depressed while living in Portland.
And I don't need to go into the minutiae of what my experience was like while being depressed, except that it was all-encompassing and overwhelming. I felt like I could not get out of bed, and what was worse, that no one cared whether I got out of bed or not.
And it builds on itself. I stopped going to class, I stopped doing homework, I made excuses for not socializing with my friends. I put off life itself because it was simply too much for me. I blew off my life, and shit built up until I felt like there was no way I could wade back into the thick of it. There were too many essays, too much homework, too great of a burden.
Everything just turned into one ugly, painful spiral, and I hated myself for it. I didn't understand how other people managed it so easily, when getting out of bed was an accomplishment for me. I cried in the shower, I cried myself to sleep, I cried walking back to my dorm after the few classes I did manage to attend.
I'm not going to try to illustrate that kind of self-loathing that I (and my guess is others) felt while in this great little shit-hole, the kind where you look in the mirror and hate everything you see, and everything you represent. If you've felt it, you know what I mean. If you haven't, you're lucky, and you're not about to gain any understanding from a silly little blog like mine.
Depression is like addiction- no one can tell you you've got a problem. No one can tell you to get better. You have to be willing to get help, and to help yourself. And that's how it ended- I helped myself. I started by forcing myself out of bed, forcing myself to work on homework, study for tests, go buy groceries. I put myself in that hole, and I dug myself back out of it. On a scale of the most painful experiences I have had, this was by far the worst, but I survived. In fact, I more than survived- I got myself out of Portland, transferred to a school I love, found a degree I love, and moved as far away from that place, mentally, as I could. I'm not making light of it; getting through that year was an enormous show of will power.
And that is not how I would advocate doing it. Regardless of my personal thoughts towards psychology, nothing is more useful when you're in a hole than a good therapist. I know that having a therapist is sometimes regarded as a personal failing, but get over it. If you need help, you need help. In my case, I forced myself back onto a track that worked for me, but that's not the way to do it for other people. Just as every individual's problems are unique, the solutions also vary.
The aforementioned blogger's turning point came when she realized she had no more effort left to give to being depressed. My own turning point came when, after talking about how awful living in Portland was making me feel with a friend, he replied that I didn't have to live there. He told me there was no reason for me to stay. A shocker, I know, but in my private spiral, it never occurred to me that I could leave.
So, I did leave. I got better. And I realized that I'd learned more about myself in that one year of hell than I had over the last 18 years. I found out that I don't need validation from other people, so long as what I'm doing is important to me. I found out that I will always have the ability to change something that's got me doubting myself. Most importantly, I found out that I'm a hell of a lot tougher, and more capable, than I ever thought I was. While I was stuck in that dark nonsense, I couldn't see my life possibly getting better. Now, on the other side of it all, I can see that nothing bad ever stays bad, but it will only change if it is forced to change. Even though that was possibly the worst year of my life, I would never go back and change any part of it.
I am me because of it.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Thanks for the Concern, Rick, but No.
I watch CNN frequently- not so much for the news, but for the entertainment factor. If I want news, I go somewhere that hires real journalists, like Reuters or the BBC.
On CNN, Wolf Blitzer, that king of the clueless, asked Rick Santorum (hehe, santorum) about abortion. Because, you know, white men still haven't come to a consensus on whether or not women should be in charge of their own bodies.
Anyway, dear Mr. Ricky claims that abortion is wrong because a fetus is a person. Fetuses can feel pain, after all. Women who get pregnant have to face the consequences of their actions.
Thanks for that, man. I'm glad that because you have a penis, you know better than I do. In fact, will you do my taxes for me, too? My feeble lady-mind just can't get that far. While we're at it, could you do my homework? I'm just worried that my overly-emotional brain will explode.
Let's go through some of those common arguments, starting with the one that some states want to incorporate into law.
"Fetuses feel pain." Well, yes. Sure. I suppose that, on a quantifiable level, it sends the same chemical signals that science has come to associate with pain. You know what else does that? Plants. Studies have shown that plants feel pain. Does that mean I never have to eat Brussels sprouts, either? You know, since we're never going to ever do anything that causes anything to feel "pain." While we're at it, let's add meat and fish to that list, since those things all feel pain, too. Oh, and don't forget- parasites can probably feel pain, too. So don't you dare try to kill those lice on your kid's head. They're living things, too. They feel.
"A fetus is a person." No, it's a group of cells. It relies on the mother in order to live. You what else exhibits that behavior? Tumors. A fetus isn't a person till it comes out of the womb (And not the stomach, Rick. Jesus fucking Christ.). Once it's out, it's a baby. Until it comes out, it's a fetus. Sort of like the whole lava-magma thing.
"Women need to face the consequences of their actions." Oh, that's creative. It's her womb, therefore, her problem. Furthermore, I love that we're considering children to be "consequences." I'm sure that hasn't created any sociopaths.
Let's talk about facing the consequences of one's actions. I assume that, since we're considering pregnancy to be a consequence, and are therefore condemning abortion, we're going to apply this to every kind of consequence for one's actions. This means, obviously, that doctors are now forbidden from setting broken limbs- falling on your arm while skiing was your choice, and could have been prevented, but you went with it anyway. Now you've got to either heal on your own, or die of blood poisoning. Also to be considered "consequences" are communicable diseases, natural disasters, and accidents of all kinds. After all, you chose to get hit by a car. It's not our problem.
Hopefully, this all sounds insane, and not your idea of a utopia. If it does, get away from me. But if you see how ridiculous any of these are, then you ought to see how absurd the arguments against abortion.
I love kids. I want kids of my own, someday. However, if I discovered that I was pregnant- for any reason- and I wasn't in a place where I could deal with being pregnant or raising a child, I would want the option to be there. It is unfair to everyone involved when a woman has a child she can neither raise nor emotionally support. I believe that abortion should be safe, legal, and rare, which means the attention needs to shift off of abortion itself and onto the way we raise kids to be sexually-aware adults. I know we're all secretly twelve and talking about sex is icky, but let's be honest- kids do it with or without your guidance. So suck it up, stop trying to force laws on my goddamned uterus, and do the adult thing. Condoms and birth control are a hell of a lot cheaper than children.
Then again, maybe Rick Santorum is willing to raise all those "consequences."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)