You know what bugs me?

Gendered nursery design.

Really? I mean, really? This child that just slid out of your birth canal OBVIOUSLY won't like pink and will like orange and brown because it happens to (apparently) have a Y chromosome?

This bugs me. Maybe more than it should given ALL THE OTHER THINGS that should be bugging me, but still. I read a lot of shelter blogs.

Of all the things to be annoyed by

It suddenly ticks me off that in Discovery Channel shows about sex and sexual attraction, hetero sex is always man-on-top.

Seriously?

Word to the Eyeball-Wise

Contact lenses are a prescription device.

It is federal law that you cannot be given contact lenses without a valid prescription. Contact lens prescriptions, according to federal law, only last one year.

No, you cannot "OD on a contact." We know that. But it is still a prescription device that comes into direct contact with your eye.

SERIOUS SHIT can happen when you wear your contacts incorrectly. If we give you contacts when your Rx is expired and you come back with a scratched cornea and an ulcer that cause you to lose your eye (YES THIS IS POSSIBLE, dumbass) that would be all our fault because we broke the law, and people would lose their licenses and it would be very, very bad for all of us.

So no, we can't "just" give you contacts, any more than we can "just" give you, say, a pacemaker.

PRESCRIPTION DEVICE, people.

On a lighter note, boobies!

After reading Dw3t-Hthr's post about this post, I thought I'd weigh in with my own thoughts:

Having been on the pill for a few months now, I am proud to report that my breasts have grown from 32-no-one-makes-cups-this-small-dammit, to 32-a! The past few years I've mostly worn training bras from Target, which come in a few cute colors and patterns, but are lacking in the won't-show colors of black and "nude," and have oddly-placed underwire. Now, I have one black bra and one "nude" bra that came from the adult lingerie section. I have arrived.

I still don't like my bra selection, though. Bras this small usually have a metric buttload of push-up padding, because most bra manufacturers seem to think that a-cups are something to be ashamed of. I stopped wearing padding after meeting Wulfy, who helped show me that my breasts are fine as they are, thank you very much. Victoria's Secret even has a bra they claim "fit's like custom," which means that d-cups have no padding and a-cups have more padding than I have breasts. And their underwire stabs me like woah.

I also don't like going braless, which larger-breasted women keep marveling at--even though they're small, it's uncomfortable to jog or go down stairs without a little support because they bounce (that, and my boss is the Abominable Snowman who keeps the office incredibly cold and a ridiculous lot of people are offended at the site of a nipple bump through clothes). This, even though my mom had to naaaag me to start wearing a bra when I was thirteen.

I'm more-or-less happy with the way my boobs are now (I was not particularly happy when they grew, as now I only have two bras I can comfortably wear), I just hate whatever idiot designs most bras.

Now, a couple sources for small-sized lingerie. I haven't ordered from these yet, but at least most of the models do actually have small enough breasts that I can get an idea of the fit on petite ladies like me:

Lula Lu petite lingerie has lots of cute lacy styles, and lots of basics.

The Little Bra Company has bras designed by a petite woman just as frustrated as I am about bra design.

How do you start?

I just got into an argument with a few white male friends who insisted that American white men are discriminated against, other forms of discrimination have nearly faded out of existence, and "racism doesn't exist up North."

*facepalm*

At least one of them is genuinely a cool and understanding person. I think he's just burnt out on the atmosphere at this liberal arts college, where no matter what the class, the point is often that White Men Are Evil. If I had the emotional wherewithal to calmly discuss a few pertinent examples with him, I might be able to get somewhere. But I am an emotional person and I'm dissatisfied with my living situation and my body hates me and I'm underpaid and my dog is dying, and I just. Cannot. Do it.

So, Irrational Female I remain.

The other guy? Is a know-it-all engineering major. The numbers of disciplines in which he thinks he is an expert and is Most Emphatically not are ridiculously numerous, and no matter what the argument he seems to end it with "whatever, we're not going to agree anyway," with an undertone of "I'm right and you're wrong, no matter what you say." To which tonight, I had so say, "You're right, we're not going to," and refrain from saying "because you're never going to listen to a word I say." He's the one who said "racism doesn't exist Up North." By Up North he meant, mostly, Boston. Any minority Bostonians want to disagree? I'm sure you're out there somewhere. Not that he'll listen.

And my beloved Wulfy had to take me home and comfort me, after being astonished at the ire I showed in this argument. And, because I am a white female and this is what I know, the conversation turned toward "women's issues." Why am I a minority anyway? My "minority" comprises 51% of the population, I say. My "minority" also makes less on average than your "majority," for the same work, of the same quality, over the same time. A female coworker of mine was flat-out told by our manager that she doesn't make as much money as a man who works with us, despite doing the same work and having more experience, because "it's a man's world, honey." And here's how I really flabbergasted him:

"Can you tell me when the last time you were really scared you were going to be raped? Because I can."

My car wouldn't start and I was near my workplace, and after catching a ride over I got a male coworker who used to work as a mechanic to take me back to my car and get it to start. And I was scared shitless to get into his car, but I need my car and I knew he could fix it and I was afraid to piss him off if I told him I didn't want to ride with him after he'd gotten our manager to give him permission to leave work, and I knew for sure he could fix my car, for free, and in a far shorter time that waiting an hour in freezing weather for a AAA person who was a totally unknown quantity. And I had to weigh that against the fact that he's over six feet tall to my 5'3", and weighs nearly twice as much as I do, and I know he can lift me a foot off the ground at arm's length.

And my boyfriend had no clue that I was scared that night, that I would have reason to be scared. Because he has never faced that kind of fear.

And now I am so far away from that original argument that I don't know what to think. I'm just a mess of these stupid emotions and I've cried too many times today.

Geez.

I found this through Ren...

And here's my response:





(artwork compliments of The Muffin)

I generally stay out of the Feminist Blog War because it makes my brain hurt. The cartoon in question is a case in point...as are this and this, by the same blogger.

In a post defending the latter comic, the author, Mary Tracy, says:

"I wish I could be a more positive person and use my abilities to help advance the feminist cause by bringing the spotlight to the people who are causing the real damage. I am aware of this, and, for what is worth, you have my word that I will try my best to change this aspect of myself."

Well gee, good job on that changing thing, I guess...

You know, I've seen some pretty nasty shit come from the "sex-pos" side and the "radfem" side...but it seems like more of it comes from the "radfem" side, from where I stand. And it seems to me like a lot of the time, the "radfem" side sticks its fingers in its ears and goes "lalalalaIcan'thearyoustupidwhore" when someone points out that they've said something insensitive, or hurtful, or sexist, or racist, or just downright wrong. And I won't say that the "sex-pos" folks don't do that too...just way less often.

And you know, even though I'm not really involved in all of it...I'm sick of it. Really. Cut it out. Whether or not you have hairy legs or wear makeup, or you hate porn or don't really mind it, or you have a boyfriend or not, doesn't mean you are or are not a feminist...in fact, IT'S NOT THE POINT OF FEMINISM AT ALL.

Women making choices, being in charge of their own lives, not having to be forced to stay at home or cover their faces lest they be stoned, not having to be scared to walk at night lest they be raped, not being trapped in abusive relationships because they can't support themselves, being able to get a good education or have a good job or sleep with someone or not sleep with someone if they want to, is the point.

And you know, if some of those choices include deciding to not watch porn or deciding to be a sex worker, so be it. But those choices are not the be-all-end-all of feminism.

Like my jerry-rigged cartoon says, there are more important things.

Geez.

Deja Vu

About a year ago, my family experienced a giant meltdown of both my mother and our finances (my mom being the one who takes care of the finances) which nearly prevented me from returning to school for the fall semester.

Guess what happened again this year?

The big problem is, last year there was some sort of glitch at the school that allowed me to keep my classes; this year, no such luck.

All my classes are gone. I have to compete with other late-registering students in the next few days to get classes I don't really want. I'll probably speak with the professors of my original classes to see if they'll add me in (again).

How the fuck did this happen again? I understand my mother, she's not the most stable person in the world at this point in her life, but after last year I thought my dad was keeping better tabs on the situation.

At least they kept my room for me.

The RIGHT column, imbecile! RIGHT!

My job is annoying me. I like it well enough when I'm there, it's just little things that patients do annoy me way more than they should.

Here's a tip for my ever-so large constituency of loyal readers: when you are at the eye doctor's office and you have to use the accuities machine (the thing with the bar you put your forehead against, like the thing you use to look at roadsigns at the DMV) please listen closely to the person conducting the test, and if she says "read the smallest line you can see in the right-hand column," read the smallest line you can see in the right hand column. Do NOT use the left hand column, do NOT start at the top and read down, and do NOT read from right to left. Oh, and don't come into the office and expect us to give you contacts if you haven't had an eye exam in three years. My office only gives out contacts if you've had an exam within a year--that varies, but we need to know we won't blind you by giving you something your eyes can't handle. And yes, this applies if you're wearing color contacts, even if you don't have any Rx in them. They're still a medical device that comes into direct contact with your eyes (they're called contact lenses for a reason) and your eyes have to be healthy in order to wear them. There's a lot more that can be wrong with your eyes than needing glasses.

Oh, and that one condition? It's "astigmatism," not "a stigmatism." And it's not "a stigma", or "stigmata". Yes, people call it that, and while it's funny, it makes me want to smack you in the forehead like those V8 commercials.

In other news, my brother is an ass. My parents and I are visiting him over the weekend, and his intellectual condescension is getting really obnoxious. He makes me feel incredibly stupid. I keep trying to nurse my self-worth by telling myself that, after all, my IQ is supposedly higher than his. But it doesn't stop there--he manages to find something he doesn't like about the books I read, the music I like, the clothes I wear, the way I laugh, my glasses, my skin, my hair, my build...it never ends.

However, my dad bribed me out of acting terribly annoyed at everything at large this morning (I had a pre-noon relapse into moody teenager mode--after all, being around mon frere makes me feel like the least popular kid in high school again) by saying we'd go by Beowulf's town on the way back home. So I suppose it's worth it.

I've also been having migraines in the past few months, which I've never done before. Today's ended up just being a medium-strength headache that two Advil knocked out, but it was accompanied by a light sensitivity, and yesterday's was light-sensitive and nauseated, but I headed it off by going to bed early. Sleep remains the best thing for a migrain, apparently, other than supposedly snorting hot pepper. The idea behind the pepper is that it short-circuits the brain's pain receptors by being incredibly ouchie. I suppose it's similar to biting your tongue when you stub your toe.

I'm not in my normal time zone, so I'm getting really sleepy. Maybe my next post will have more of a point.

Oh, btw, thanks DBB, I'd actually been thinking about reading some Ayn Rand sometime soon. Honestly, I haven't even gotten around to reading anything on that list; my mom derailed me by finding a few books by Madeleine L'Engle that I hadn't read.

Stressssssssss

Finals season is upon us. I have two large papers to write in the next week or two, one interesting, the other really, really not. The interesting one is on the connections between Calvin's ideas of predestination and election and Shakespeare's tragedies, probably with a focus on Othello. I'll post that one here in chunks, probably.

My friend Violet came to visit a few weeks ago--a wonderful excuse to explore downtown. This city is amazing, I tell you. She was going to come up again with her girlfriend Vic, but that plan seems to have fallen through.

Note on Violet: her madre needs to grow a clue. She and Vic are not together because Vic hypnotized her with evil lesbian mind tricks or whatever the mom thinks; they are together because they genuinely care for and love each other. Their relationship is a hell of a lot healthier than various hetero relationships Violet has been in. A lot of my churchy friends need to realize this as well. Not all non-straight relationships are based solely on The Evil Gay Sex, just as not all hetero relationships are founded on teh solid rock of Twue Wuv.

Oh, and my parental unit recently chewed me out--if only mildly--because Violet's mom didn't know she was visiting until she was already here. And I couldn't tell them why I was okay with that--namely Violet's mom flipping out on her, believing everything she does is wrong and evil because of Vic--because all hell would break out in our ever-more-conservative church if anyone found out about Vic.

:end rant:

So on Violet's heels came Josey the Sex Kitten, who has been my designated BFF for a number of years, and her cute Leprechaun of a boyfriend. They only stayed a night, and nothing terribly exciting happened.

Beowulf and I are doing quite peachy-keen, one week away from our three-month anniversary, and about two weeks from being separated for the summer. I'm guessing that we'll see each other for a total of two weeks until August, so it looks like I'll get a test in Long-Distance Relationships 101. Thank God for AIM.

This has been a really me-centric post. So, links to the webcomics I use to procrastinate:

http://www.somethingpositive.net/

http://www.sinfest.net/

http://robandelliot.cycomics.com/