Things remind me of other things - On being pro-choice and having babies.

The recent announcement that Chelsea Clinton is up the spout, as they say, seems to have caused some confusion in the forced-birth camp.  There seems to be some kind of idea that being pro-choice amounts to being anti-baby and anti-pregnancy.  All abortion, all the time.

It's not so.  I am staunchly pro-choice.  I happen to like babies a lot.  They're cute.  Mine were adorable and are growing up to be awesome people.  I also happened to mostly enjoy my pregnancies, although I grew to miss my ankles after a time.

I also never, ever want to be pregnant, or have babies again.  Ever again.  I don't think anyone who doesn't want to carry a pregnancy should be forced to whether by legislation or by circumstance and lack of resource.
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The confusion of the anti-choicers seems to stem from the insistence of Ms. Clinton, along with grandparents-to-be Bill and Hil, in referring to her impending offspring as a baby.

Part of choice involves the decision to imbue meaning on a pregnancy.  I'm reminded of the passage from The Little Prince, where the fox explains if the prince were to tame him, to establish ties with him, that to him, the fox would "be unique in all the world" and vice versa.

In a sense, a person who is carrying a wanted pregnancy has established ties to the fetus, has began thinking of it as a baby.  The pregnant person has made a choice (whoa, there's that word again) to establish ties with what is growing inside.  In the story, the Prince does decide to tame the fox, although in the beginning, he has misgivings about having much to see and places to visit.   He makes the choice to tame the fox anyway, and the fox says to the prince that "You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed."

That's a big deal and a choice that should not be foisted on someone.  But more, it's a decision made by a pregnant person, followed by their partner and eventually their friends and family, to establish those ties.   So, it is not hypocritical for a pro-choice person to refer to a wanted pregnancy as a baby as opposed to a fetus, once they have made the choice to establish that tie, to give it such meaning.

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So, is Blonde-Washing a thing now? Also, this just in.. Slut-shaming still sucks.

So I may seem hypocritical here, considering my past stance regarding POC's portraying fictional characters that are traditionally portrayed white.  That stance being that I am generally pretty okay with it and think people should not freak out so much about it.  I still stand by that.

That being said, context matters.

So I, like many others, are less than impressed with the new cover for the box set release of Lucy Maude Montgomery's classics Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea, and Anne of the Island.

Here's an older edition:

Source - Amazon.ca

And here's the new cover:

Source

This is wrong.  Mainly because Anne Shirley is a redhead and her being a redhead is pretty integral to the plot of the books and how Anne is perceived by the other characters in the book, as well as how Anne sees herself.  So making her a blonde is  ridiculous, at best.  

The other point is that these books take place in late nineteenth century Prince Edward Island.  So the flannel shirt and long flowing hair is a pretty huge anachronism.  So no, I am not impressed by this ill-though-out attempt to modernize Anne for a new audience and I sincerely hope some art director somewhere is having a strip torn off for clearly not picking up the damn book before designing the cover.

The new cover was posted this morning to a local radio station's Facebook page.  As expected, people were not amused and many voiced their disapproval.  Many more, frustratingly, took to insulting and slut-shaming the model on the cover, call her a tart, a hooker and otherwise speculating on this girl's sex life, because she is a blonde and posing in what can be considered a 'sultry' pose.  

People, this is a model.  I have not yet been able to find her name, but I would be willing to bet that when this cover was taken, she may not have even been privy to what they would be used for.  Perhaps just told something vague like "Oh, it's a cover for a book about a girl in the country" if that much information was even divulged.  Yet people feel entitled to judge this girl as though she personally went and defecated on Montgomery's grave.

 

That second last one makes me laugh out loud.  In what universe does a flannel shirt, buttoned up to the neck, qualify as "provocative" or "scantily clad"?  Oh, and butt-less chaps?  Where the hell did THAT come from??

It's pretty disgusting that people, out of a sense of indignation over a fictional character, feel entitled to insult and degrade the portrayer of said character with gendered slurs.  Anne Shirley is a fictional character, but that girl on the cover is an actual person*

*Unless, of course, she's the result of some really impressive photorealist-type illustration.

I've been reading again.

So back when I was in school, I bought and/or procured a shit-load of books, mostly those that had been mentioned in class, with the intention of reading them.  The snag was that while in school, I never had time read anything other than the required texts for my classes.  Once I graduated, my brain went into sleep mode and I wanted nothing more than to immerse myself in comic books, suspense thrillers and Harry Potter.

I was burnt out.

I also starting blogging and reading blogs a lot more in this time so my reading materials mostly consisted of other blogs and my books got sorely neglected.  So five years later I'm getting back into reading some of those more 'meaty' books I picked up in school.

I just finished "The Road To Wigan Pier" and I was struck by how a book that was published over 80 years ago holds relevant in many ways today.  Some of the parallels I found between his descriptions of the unemployed in Britain in the 1930s and prevailing attitudes toward the unemployed and working poor at the time similar to some of the misconceptions the Occupy movement attempted to address this past year.  Namely the idea that the unemployed don't want to work.  Both Orwell and the Occupy movement pointed out that most unemployed are willing to work, were the the work there and available at a living wage.

The book comes from a very pro-Socialism standpoint.  His thesis seems to be that unless a lot of people embrace socialism very soon, the only alternative will be Fascism which, to paraphrase, is basically Socialism without any of the good stuff.  He points out a few reasons that people at the time were hesitant to consider it, despite agreeing with many of the ideals.  One argument, that could easily applied to today and the tendency of lower-middle class to accept the fallacy of trickle-down economics, is that the class-conciousness of the time meant that people who, by upbringing, considered themselves 'middle-class' (described by Orwell as 'those who pronouce their aitches') were being pushed into the working class by way of economics.   One who was raised to think of themselves as a higher class than the working class may, out of fear of 'losing their place', be apt to align themselves with systems that benefit the rich, than systems that are actually more likely to be in their own best interests.

The other issue Orwell brings up is the tendency to avoid Socialism out of a desire not to align oneself with the prevailing ideal of what it means to be a "Socialist".  The caricature of the pistachio-shirted, sandalled, stuffy, boring, intellectual type is similar to the image of the man-hating, hairy-legged butch lesbian who will scream at someone who holds doors that causes many people to say "Yeah, I believe men and women should have the same rights, but I'm not a feminist..."  

(For the record, I fully identify as a feminist, but I am still grateful when someone holds a door for me.. why?  BECAUSE IT'S A NICE THING TO DO, NO MATTER WHO YOU ARE.)

Long story short, I found this book a hell of a lot more interesting than I had originally thought I would.  The descriptions of the daily lives of the British coal miners and the living conditions of the unemployed of the working poor at the time made me look around at all I have and thank Gord for what I have.  The later parts of the book where he describes the machine age and its effects on the human population had me nodding in agreement, as many of the passages could easily have been written today.

Can we stop having this conversation already?

I haven't read, nor seen, the Hunger Games, although the more I read about it, the more I want to check it out, as it sounds pretty freaking cool.

It seems there's a bit of a kerfuffle over one or two of the major characters in the book being cast with black actors.

Can we gets over this already?

Every damn time a POC gets cast as a known character who is not explicitly Black, Asian, Native or whatever, a bunch of "I'm not racist but..." assholes get their collective panties in a bunch and start muttering about "polital correctness running amok", like a POC couldn't actually be cast because they are, you know, a Good actor or something. No, it's all part of some big liberal bleeding heart affirmative action agenda.

Can we just accept that, except in cases where you are dealing with historical context (like, real people who actually existed) or when race is a fundamental part of the overarching narratives, the race or ethnicity of the actor or actress being cast should not fucking matter, especially in cases where descriptions of the character don't really allude to their enthncity at all.

"If someone cast a white person as {Insert known POC character here} then it wouldn't be okay.. You're a hypocrite!"

Not the same thing, folks. There are oodles of roles for white actors and actresses, already. There are a lot less good, fleshed-out roles for Black and Asian actors that aren't total stereotypes. And even LESS for Native or East Indian actors.

Basically, if your enjoyment of a film can be tarnished by the casting of a POC, when you'd imagined the character as white, then at best, you're unimaginative as hell and at worst, kind of an asshole. And a bigot.

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New, happy post up at Different Paths, Same Destination. Go check it out.

Book Review - All Of Me: A Voluptuous Tale

My mom recently lent me the book All of Me: A Voluptuous Tale by Venise Berry. The cover puts me in mind of something that would be on Oprah's book club. Upon recommending it to me, she told me that the main character reminded her a lot of me.

I had a bit of a"Gee, thanks mom" moment when I began reading as it starts with the main character, Serpentine Williamson, in a psychiatric hospital after a suicide attempt. However, this is not what she was getting at. Serpentine is a black woman who has struggled with her weight all of her life, and recounts the events in her life that led up to her suicide attempt. She deals with fat-shaming from her family, her lovers, her workplace and from society around her.

This book pissed me off to no end, but in the way I think the author intended. I was angry FOR Serpentine and I could understand her frustration at the world around her for treating her like she was a less worthy human being for being fat.

The book also deals with the issue of not only being a fat woman, but a fat black woman. It was an interesting perspective for me to read, being white, since it's my understanding that there can be some significant differences between white women and black women's experiences with fat-shaming and body acceptance. These issues stem a lot from privilege, society's ownership of women's bodies, access to healthy food and activity, and media representation.

I related to Serpentine in her personal life - feeling less than worthy, feeling insecure and jealous of the thin, pretty girls (although in some cases the 'thin girls' were not too far off from me - when I lost the first chunk of weight, I had a few friends point out that we were almost the same size, even though I still felt like the fat girl of the group). I always felt incredulous when someone professed to be attracted to me.

The message of the book focuses a lot of being healthy. While being aware of all the external factors that have affected her, Serpentine also acknowledges her own responsibility in getting where she is, and uses her experiences to better herself and live a healthier life.

It was an enjoyable read. I recommend picking it up.

Inducing rage on your Tuesday morning.

Quick post.

Last week, I posted about what I considered the best feminist children's book ever.

This week I'm taking you in the opposite direction, as I have caught wind of what could possibly be the worst book to get your little girl (or boy).  It's called Maggie Goes On A Diet.  It's about a little fat girl who goes on a diet to fit into a pretty pink dress and becomes popular and plays some soccer.

Can we get a big, collective, face palm right now?

It's about a 14-year-old girl, but the book is aimed at the 4-7 age bracket.  BRING EM YOUNG.  Let's look at some of the problematic messages:

Thinness is the ticket to popularity.
Only thin people are athletic.
You are valued for your appearance.

The comments and tags that are going up on the Amazon site for this page are heartening though.  It looks like people are getting that this is a craptacular lesson to be sending  to little kids.  I somehow think this book isn't going to be doing any great amount of sales.

I don't mind saying, for anyone who does buy this for their kids, I hope something very large and pointy falls on them from a great height.

Myself?  I wouldn't be caught dead.  I'd rather read my kids "Go The Fuck to Sleep"

It'd be less damaging in the long run.

The best feminist children's book ever.

The Paper Bag Princess

If you grew up in the 80's, in Canada especially then it's likely you are no stranger to the wonderful stories of Robert Munch.  I had a collection of teeny-tiny pocket versions of his books, which tended towards simple but humorous plots (a dad who sleepwalks, a kid who won't wear his ugly snowsuit, a kid who won't go to the bathroom until the last minute) and cute illustrations generally provided by Michael Martchenko.  As soon as my kids were old enough to focus their eyes on a book, I began collecting anthologies of Munsch's work so that I could share them with my kids.

Somewhere in the time between being a six-or-seven-year-old with a profound love of reading and a thirty-something mother-of-two I happened to learn a bit about the media and about feminist theory and social constructionism and how gender portrayals in the media tend to affect us.  So upon revisiting what is possible Munsch's most well-known work (aside from that unholy tearjerker that everyone sadist likes to give expectant mothers at baby showers, Love You Forever) I was pleasantly surprised to find a strong feminist message in this story about a princess who outsmarts a dragon to save her beloved.

Let's recap, shall we?  Princess Elizabeth is slated to marry Prince Ronald.  Oh, he's cute and all and she's rather smitten.  So it's understandable that when the dragon comes and destroys her (yes.. *her*) kingdom and carries off Prince Ronald, she is eager to get him back.

The book gets its title from how after her kingdom is burned to smithereens all Elizabeth has left to wear is an old dirty paper bag.  This comes into play later in the story.

By way of her intellect, Elizabeth tricks the dragon into exhausting himself by performing various dragonesque stunts until he collapses, leaving Prince Ronald unguarded.  Pretty clever, no?  Not even clever 'for a girl'.  Just clever.

Source

Here's the rub.  Rather than showing some gratitude towards Elizabeth for saving his useless ass, Prince Ronald turns his nose up and tells Elizabeth that she is a mess and should come back when she 'looks more like a princess.'  Rather than fret and be all apologetic for not living up to Ronald's gender and class expectations, Elizabeth firmly but respectfully informs Ronald that he's a narcisisstic asshat (my words, not hers.. this IS a children's book.  Elizabeth, I believe, calls him a 'bum') and lives happily ever after, ON HER OWN (or at the very least, without the company of the insufferable Prince Ronald).  This is the impression we're given anyway, between the line "And she didn't get married, after all" and Martchenko's illustration of Elizabeth walking off into the sunset, clicking her heels with joy.

So we have a princess who uses her wit and resources at hand to show concern and come to the aide of those around her, undeserving as they may be.  Her kingdom is describe as her own.  She outsmarts the dragon without doing harm to him, so she is an empathetic character.  She is able to recognize that her own self-worth is of higher importance than marriage to a prince.  Let's also add that this is not the stereotypical 'beautiful' princess.  Elizabeth is pretty in an average, relatable*  sort of way.

I love that the message in this book is not an overtly preachy one, and is one that is universal to anyone of any gender, ethnicity, class etc... Be resourceful, and you are not obligated to people who disrespect you.  The fact that Elizabeth is conceived in such a brilliantly simple manner as a Strong Female Character - that is, strong in character and intellect, not necessarily just a more ass-kicking object for the male gaze - is what makes this an excellent feminist children's book.

*I'll concede that Elizabeth may be more relatable if you're a little white girl.  However, Munch has made a point of incorporating characters of many ethnicities in his stories, generally without resorting to stereotyping

I've been blog critiqued

I recently had the honor of having my blog critiqued over at Rick's blog.  Richard is a pretty recent reader and it was an interesting experience getting an idea of the impression I've been giving out through this particular medium. 

I was concerned about this passage:

There's something going on. Things are not right. You are too bright a spark to be having these troubles. Call it an instinct, but my reading of your situation suggests that someone in your life is fucking with your head. Who is it? Is there someone you need to kill?

It concerns me, because I wonder if I really put across the idea that I'm mostly miserable?  I sure hope not.  In all honesty, putting aside the day-to-day foibles of fender benders and throat infections and the occasional irritating customer at work, my life is pretty decent.  Lovely, even.  But how to describe that?  How to describe it, when it can be so much more fun and releasing to get on a tangent about the little things that fuck up day to day?

In MacLennan's The Watch That Ends the Night, the narrator, George attempts to describe his wife whom he is deeply in love with, but finds himself at a loss and says that it is much easier for a man to describe his wife if he dislikes her.  I planned to quote this, but looking at my bookshelf I just remembered I lent it out to a friend.  Taking from MacLennan's idea, I find myself with much more to say when I am discontent.  When I am content, I have a tendency to just be, and not think or talk too much about it.  Maybe I just don't know how to express the positive or maybe I am fashioning myself as an adorable curmudgeon of sorts.  Who knows?  I guess it's not surprising when you look at the top five labels for this blog that they are as follows:

• Life in General
• Random Thoughts
• Grievances
• Music
• Kids

There you have it.  I talk about life.. sometimes my head is all over the place, I bitch about stuff, I play music and I have awesome kids that are fun to talk about.

True, I do try and keep them protected on here, both out of an ingrained media-fed fear of predators, as well as respect for their privacy now and in the future (I generally try to respect the privacy of most my loved ones on here) for which reason there will be no pics posted, but I will say I'm damn lucky to have two intelligent, kind, beautiful and FUNNY kids to call my own. 

I will add that I wasn't quite sure what Rick had meant about my third sentence in this post being a gem, because when I went back and read it, all I really saw was a run-on sentence but sometimes we're all our own worst critic.

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In other news, the hunt for snow-tires continues. The weather has warmed up a bit so the roads are clearing, and the automotive department at the local Wal-Hell has been on the hunt for tires in my size.  Normally I avoid the place like the plague, but fact is, tires there are going to cost me almost half of what I'd pay at any of the local independent tire places.  So yes, I'm selling a bit of my soul to the giant corporate devil, but I'll be able to drive my sellout ass around safely at least.

Took the girls out for a dinner and a movie night.  There were three options that may be suitable for kids playing.  Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which was what I was rooting for, The Green Hornet and Yogi Bear.  Now, I knew that the girls would want to see Yogi Bear but the latest show was at 4:30 and I don't pick them up until 5:30. DARRRRRNNNNNNNN.

Not that I have anything against Yogi and BooBoo per se, but I have a thing against the recent spate of animated shows made into live action films, considering nobody's been able to do it even remotely well since The Flintstones .  You know Jason Lee?  I loved Jason Lee, until saw Underdog.  Then I saw Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Jason Lee is dead to me now.

Tom Cavanaugh is apparently in Yogi Bear.  You remember Tom Cavanaugh?  TV's Ed?  The "Here I Am On Georgian Bay and I'm Reminded of Light Beer?" Blue Light guy?

Photo Credit

On a side note, I so wanted to find a picture from when he was the Blue Light guy.  I loved that commercial, ever so much.  On another side note, the link where I got this photo from is an obituary for another Tom Cavanaugh who played for the San Jose Sharks.  Another Tom Cavanaugh who is not this guy, but they used his picture anyway.  Good Job, Zaffnews.

Sweet Laird Tunderin' Jaysus!  I found one of the commercials.. Not the Georgian Bay one, which was the best one, but the Niagara Falls one. Which is close enough.



Okay, I digressed huge there.  Point being, I don't want to see Yogi Bear, because I don't want to lose respect for Tom Cavanagh like I have for Jason Lee.  So that was a near miss.  I rooted for Harry Potter, but the girls wanted to see the Green Hornet.  I'm not too disappointed.  It was funny, action packed and I have such a soft spot for Seth Rogen, even when he's playing a pompous ass.. which he invariably is.

It probably wasn't the most appropriate choice for a family film with the language and the violence, but it was enjoyable. The 3-D experience was pretty wild as well.  

Oy.. had many intentions of getting lunches done tonight, but it's late and I should be heading to bed.  G'night all.

And yet we haven't found a way to censor stupid...

Holy arbitrary censorship Batman.

Two stories caught my attention today.  First was a blog post from Tom at Work That Matters regarding Facebook's double standard on so-called obscenity and vulgarity in photos.  The basic gist of the original note that Tom cites is a woman pointing out that you can search for 'Boob's' and find any number of skin-baring, objectionist, definitely sketchy boob shots ranging from plain cleavage shots to almost full-on nudity.

This isn't the problem though (well, it is, but that's a whole 'nother blog post.. not so much boobs, as the objectification of women blah blah.. again, a blog for another day).  The problem is that at the same time that anybody and their Grandma can find these images, the writer of the original note, a friend of a friend of Mr. Megginson's, points out a number of seemingly innocent pics of mothers breast-feeding their children that have been flagged and pulled from the site for being obscene.  Take a jump over to Tom's blog to see the images in question.  Most of them show a bare minimum of skin.

Whether it's the people flagging these pictures as obscene, or the moderators being picky-choosy about which images stay and which ones go, either way there is something very wrong here.   It seems ridiculous that non-eroticized pictures of mother's nursing their children are being targeted as obscene, whereas these other hyper-sexualized examples are hunky-dory?  What the hell, Zuck?

(yes.. anything Facebook related, and I put the blame straight on Mark Zuckerberg.  He's my favorite scapegoat)

Not surprisingly, the original note has been deleted, but Tom had the good foresight to screen capture it so folks can read it in all it's glory.  I've posted Tom's article to my own Facebook page and I am encouraging others to do so as well.

Me, I don't think boobs are inherently obscene.  It's all context, folks.  But if you're going to call boobage, bewbers, whathaveyou obscenity, at least be consistent about it.

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This story blew my medderfleurkin' mind:

A Brave New World controversy

A woman in Seattle Washington is trying to get Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World" pulled from school curriculum because it's disparaging to Natives, and refers to Savage Natives, which offends and upsets her.

I'm upset and offended by this woman's obvious lack of reading comprehension, if she even read the book at all, or if just read the 'offending' passage and knee-jerked the rest.

In the complaint to her daughter's school, Sarah Sense-Wilson states:

"[the text has a] high volume of racially offensive derogatory language and misinformation on Native Americans. In addition to the inaccurate imagery, and stereotype views, the text lacks literary value which is relevant to today's contemporary multicultural society,"

*facepalm*

First off, I've read this book a number of times.  There's nothing in the text to indicate that the 'Savages' that the text refers to are supposed to represent Native Americans or First Nations people.  In Brave New World, the so-called civilised people are those born from test tubes in factories, pre-destined to certain lots in life to which they have been conditioned before birth.  The Savages are people who live on the outskirts of society and still live in families and are born of human mothers and bond and share.  They drink and fight and love and experience a gamut of emotions that the "Civilized" people find abhorrent and vulgar.

The book, along with being a dystopian vision of a world dependent on drugs, materialism and mindless eroticism (hmm.. sound familiar?) as a means of avoiding negative experiences and emotions, also criticizes the Eurocentric, colonial ideal of 'taming and civilizing the savage'.   Huxley painted John Savage as the tragic hero of the book, who looked at this 'Brave New World' he was brought to and saw through the fake happiness that the so-called civilized folks believed in.

Even if there was any evidence pointing towards the book targeting Native Americans, which I don't believe is the case at all - Savage is merely used as an illustration of the concept that the people of Huxley's future had of themselves as civilized as opposed to the uncivilized (who in reality, could be ANY North American or European of our or Huxley's generation).  As some commenters pointed out, the book is set in England, so there are no Natives there (although in fairness I always imagined the Savage land as Arizona)

Secondly, if there was any way to show that these Savages were supposed to represent Native Americans, anyone with any reading comprehension would be able to tell that they are supposed to represent Huxley's idea of the chaotic good of love and family and emotion, as opposed to civilizations increasingly sterile meaningless existence, which is hardly unflattering.

I think Jen at Blag Hag tweeted it best:

F*** stupid oversensitive people who have no reading comprehension and ruin everyone else's education as a result

Authors Note:  Sorry to anyone who read this last night (11-17-2010) and thought it made no sense.. somehow things got borked and a paragraph that was supposed down near the bottom ended up at the top of the post.  It should make more sense now.

Cease and Desist... really?

So as some of you may know, I make a rather incidental amount of money making and selling some crafts through an Etsy store. Many of the things I've created are made with cuttings from books, comics, etc and to the best of my knowledge the exposure of my site has been marginal at best.

Imagine my surprise when I received an email today from a lawyer in wisconsin on behalf of the estate of Shel Silverstein asking me to cease and desist with my unauthorized use of copyrighted images 'including but not limited to light switch plates'.

Yes, the catalyst for all of this was a seven-dollar switch plate that i had made using a couple of pages of "A Light In The Attic", my copy of which had been all but destroyed by two little girls who took a while to learn how to properly handle books.

Let me first say that I get copyright laws and why they are in place, but this still saddens me, mainly because my motivation for making this (and two other items, another plate and a coaster set, which had previously sold) were mainly because I am a huge fan of Mr. Silverstein and I knew others could appreciate this kind of nostalgia as much as I do. Being told to cease and desist is disturbing just in that it makes it sound like I acted in malice with the sole motivation of bilking the Mr. Silverstein's descendants out of a lousy seven bucks. Twenty if you count the previously sold items.

I think I'd be more sympathetic if it were the artist himself sending an official letter via lawyer as a way of saying "Hey, miss, this is my work.. not cool.' To which I could have said "My apologies.. my intent was to honor rather than devalue your work." Because it's the estate making the complaint I am irked. Why? I'm not sure. Maybe because I have a vision of some guy being hired to randomly google keywords that may be linked to Mr. Silverstein's work. Perhaps it's because I dislike the idea of someone laying claim to something based solely on the fact that they share some DNA with the genius who had created it.

At any rate.. the listing has been pulled from the site. I considered writing to ask permission to use the images, but I figured for the trouble, I'd just pull the listing, and put it up in my own kitchen, since frankly, I like it. And some small part of me thinks that Mr. Silverstein, where-ever he may be now, would like it too.

Animated like me...

Okay, so first off, when I was looking for images for this blog post, I was surprised and a little irritated to find that it's already been done.

Curses. Foiled again. The kicker is that she's picked at least two of the people I had in mind.

No matter.

In no particular order, here's some cartoon characters that bear at least a passing resemblance to myself, because sometimes, I really wish I was an animated character.

Daria


Meg Griffin


Marcie

This one is kind of funny, because I once told my best friend that she kind of resembled Peppermint Patty.

Yeah, she didn't talk to me for like, a week.

Velma


Gretchen (from Recess)


And please allow me a moment of wishful thinking...


Hey, I'm working on that grey streak.. a few more months without haircolor, and I may be able to pass.

wishes really do come true..

So a little bit of bizarreness today. This morning I found myself reminiscing about one of my favorite childhood novels - Freaky Friday by Mary Rogers. Aside from Paula Danzigers 'The Pistachio Prescription', this book was probably the most-read in my collection. I read it about once a year from age 10 until about 17. Maybe more than once a year.

My oldest daughter is an avid reader, and was already into 'chapter-books' at the end of grade two. She's got a fair collection of books, and whenever I see something I liked as a kid I try to pick it up for her. She brought home 'Tales of a fourth grade nothing' from school this week and I was ecstatic.

ANyway, here I am reminiscing about Freaky Friday this morning. Tonight after work I had to take the girls grocery shopping, so we took a jaunt through the mall. DOwn by Staples they were having a Two-for-a-dollar book sale and lo and behold, there it is. Same edition I had as a kid and everything.

Needless to say, I scooped it, and tonight I listened to the girls giggle as we got through the first three chapters. It's just kind of funny how these things happen. I actually said to myself "Man, I wish I had that book again"

Boom. Kismet. Now I get to share something I loved with my girls. Wishes do come true.

One Day I'll make some honest rock and roll...

I've been invited to sing and play at the community center tomorrow night and frankly, I'm freaking out a bit. It's been a while since I've played in public in any venue bigger than an open mike night.. and even that was months ago. I've tentatively picked out a song to play. I know I will change my mind seventeen times in the next 36 hours before I finally settle on the song I was going to play in the first place. I have mixed feelings about getting a one-song 'set'. On one hand, I only have to practice and memorize one song. On the other hand, if I fuck that one up, there is no redemption.

On the other hand though, this is a very small town, and I'm pretty sure that the audience will be devoid of record label talent scouts. So it basically comes down to shits and giggles, right folks?

Had an enjoyable evening out for dinner tonight. Learned that there is such a thing as an over-attentive server, but hey, it's still preferable to someone who ignores you all night. I've got to almost wonder if our server at one point got written up for inattentiveness and was trying over-compensate? Just every time we turned around *BAM* there she was.

I had a few hours to kill between work and dinner, so on my break I took a cold and soggy jaunt up to Cottage books, and was reacquainted with the reason why I generally avoid that place. Simply put, I cannot go in there and buy ONE book. Before I had taken 10 full breaths in the place, I had a handful of books. Not that I'm complaining about having extra reading material. The book I'm reading right now is called 'Rage in Harlem'. It's about.. guess what... rage in harlem. Now, not having any experience with 1970's inner cities, for all I know this could be a dead accurate depiction, but to me it reads like it was written by a white guy who watched too many blacksploitation films. Whole lotta 'Lawds' being thrown around.

So now I'm about four chapters into 'Fargo Rock City' by Chuck Klosterman. Everytime I read anything by this guy I want to hunt him down, marry him and have vaguely nerdy babies with great sarcastic wit and fantastic taste in music and other pop culture. His books tend to ignite in me an intense desire to travel and/or start a rock band and indulge in any number of vices.

I also picked up a copy of 'Sophie's world' and just in time for halloween, a copy of the complete works of Edgar Allen Poe, complete with insanely fun 60's inspired cover.

Books stores are one of the few retail type stores that actually produce a physiological response when I enter them. I quickly become overwhelmed when I step into one. My shelves at home are become packed again, and I fear I may need to invest in another set of those lovely particle board cheapies. One day I will divest myself of any and all particle board furniture in my home. I've grown to loathe it. One day will come where I look around my home and see only real wood.. that will be the day I know I have made it. Particle board seems to represent to me everything I hate about mass consumerism. Cheap. Shoddy. Artifical. Lacking in craftsmanship. The thought makes me shudder. So does going into debt for furniture. Damned if I do, and so forth.

Oh my.. seems I've rambled on for more than my share this evening. sleep sleep, breakfast, oilchange, coffee with The Danno, rehearsal, and the stage await.

Night, all.

For the sake of writing something.. anything

So, after about a week of trying to get my cat back after she ran away and eventually ending up back at her former owner's place, I managed to get her home.

Saturday night, the oldest girl left the back door open and both cats got out. Spartacus came back, Pantera did not. She went back to the old owners place again. This cat is not happy here. So I made the decision to let her stay and see if she can be found a new home, with people who have more time to dedicate to really taming her.

I use the word tame in a particular context here. I've been reading 'The Little Prince' to the girls at bedtime lately, and I'm moved by the passage between the little prince and the fox that he meets in the african desert. The fox asks the little prince to tame him, and the little prince asks him to explain the meaning of 'tame':

"To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world."

I feel like I've failed her in some way, but not having the time to dedicate to becoming unique in all the world to this troubled little feline. It's silly perhaps, but I do.

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Took the girls to Value Village yesterday to gather stuff for halloween costumes. Last year I totally wussed out and for the first time actually bought them costumes, which pretty much goes against everything I stand for, Halloween-wise. Costumes, in my world, are to be made or gathered together from various components scavenged throughout the house, garage etc.

This year I've managed to put together what should be some pretty decent, unique costumes for the girls. The older one is getting more open to the fun and scary side of halloween, which pleases me to no end. The younger one took some more convincing, and although her costume isn't a scary one, it's a nice departure from the swirling Disney Princess/Hannah Montana vortex I usually have to wrestle my way out of.

I've long discouraged the girls from these unimaginative and corporately-sponsored options, mainly because there will be a good dozen other Disney princesses in the classroom, and if you can't stand out at Halloween, then well, what is the point?

I will note though. Taking on Value Village on a Saturday, two weeks before halloween, with two small children in tow, is not something I recommend, unless you're a big fan of migraines.

The siege is over.

It's done. My children's room is clean. It's clean because I finished cleaning it, mind you. But my contribution to cleaning it was scooping up everything that was left on the floor and putting it in the laundry room downstairs, so it's all up for grabs for the other people in the building (more than likely that spooky family down the hall from me -- apparently their apartment is full of stuff gleaned from the laundry room).

So yeah, four grocery bags full of toys and clothes, and one of garbage. Did my kids bat an eye? Nope. Sigh. Oh well, if I do that enough times that it starts to seriously deplete their supply of toys, it'll start to matter to them. Either that or it will be a signal to me that I don't need to buy them quite so much stuff. 

REJECT MATERIALISM NOW KIDS!

Not only have they lost a bunch of toys, but a lot of their privileges have been taken away. I'm pretty sure there are prisoners in Guantanamo Bay who have more privileges than my kids do right now. No TV (that wasn't a punishment, we just don't have one right now), no computer, no treats, no colouring (not since Tierney coloured her pillow and wall).

yeah. Go motherhood.

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Does anyone know a chinese, or arabic symbol for good health? Getting a tattoo probably next week, and I have a design picked out that incorporates a chinese symbol in it and the symbol in this is supposed to represent strength or power, which was cool when I designed it (right after the boy and I split) but I think health would be a better talisman for me now.

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I'm reading a book called "Useful Idiots" which is a criticism of liberal views of the cold war. It's making want to gouge my eyes out for reading such a bunch of shit. But still I read on.

My imagination's having puppies.

Give me back my brain dammit. Hell give me back my life. I don't want to think about Marx and Conflict theory, or Durkheim and structural functionalism... all this shit has pushed useful concepts out my brain.. I tried to discussion a weekend visitation change up with the boy and I couldn't grasp the concept of This weekend and Next weekend.

I can't live off four hours sleep. I had to beg and plead at my brain today to function.

I got caught doing 75 in a 50 today. The cop let me off, thank god. The look of sheer embarassment and utter exhaustion maybe made him feel sorry for me.

Anas won't return my email asking for an extension. This shits due tomorrow. I'm freaking.

I need sleep. So. badly.

I just want to hang out with my kids -- who are starting to feel the stress -- and do xmassy stuff and watch movies and read books that arent' about how fucked up our world is.

I want to look into the mirror and not see the dark circles and stress rash and not see the mess piling up around me.

I don't want to think anymore. I don't want to write anymore. I don't want to breathe eat and sleep sociology. ANYMORE. Let this semester end soon. SOON.

On a side note, I took tierney to the book fair today and bought the girls Ramona the Pest. I can't wait to read it to them. The illustrations on the new editions remind so much of Reagan it's too cute for words.

Please don't poke the bear.

Fuck, am I ever in a foul mood today. It's seems like the kids have done nothing but whine all day (I'm trying to get them to take a nap but thus far it's not working).

My love life is in the fucking shitter. More accurately, it's in those big fucking toxic waste barrels buried under the fucking Love Canal, and is too busy giving little children chemical burns to bother sending a little lovin' my way. GAH FUCK.

Not to mention stupid online drama. What a bunch of bullshit. 

I would seriously garrote someone or shove icepicks under their fingernails for a goddamned cigarette right now.

And yes. I'm 25 and reading Harriet the Spy. I'm full of fucking child-like wonder OKAY??

"You're Comparing Apples to Baby Wolverines..."

It's official, I love Chuck Klosterman. He fawking ROCKS.

Redid my car roof yesterday, it looks fucking awesome. I took down the old blue stuff, (inhaling vast amounts of fibreglass dust in the process) and replaced it with a big black skull and crossbones flag. The problem being, that the flag was not wide enough to cover all of the ceiling. So what I did was, covered the bare strips down the side with a pink leopard pattern material, and did a border between the two with antique-y looking upholstery tacks. Like I said, looks awesome. Imma try to take some pics of it and post them.

I have a crush on the cart guy at Walmart. Known him for years. Was cute in grade 8, is still cute now.

Oh yeah, and I've changed my profile song. Don't worry Scott, I'll promote you some more down the line, but I gotta spread the love around. I'm playing LYE now, a band featuring Brett Carruthers, a guy I went to high school with... and in case there was any doubt, he is NOT dead. just to clarify that.