Oh, Brave New World

With such people in it.

It’s nice to know that sexism is still alive and well in the world. And you’re thinking ‘well, of course it is’. I know that, deep down I really did; but I never really had to think about it.

I am female. Let’s just get that out there. But I was always one of the guys, never really treated any differently from my male friends–at least from my perspective. As I get older and as I view the world through more weary eyes, I start to notice things. And then, because of societal conditioning I start second guessing what my eyes are seeing.

But I’m pretty damn certain that one of my co-workers got the shaft because she’s female. Long story short: She applied for a supervisor position and was passed over by someone (male) who had been with the company less time and was still in a part-time position. There are other factors, like he’s almost twice her age. And I’m not sure what kind of previous experience he brought to the table in the interview. But what rubs me the wrong way is within our retail store there are no females within leadership positions. All of the managers and supervisors are male, while half the employee population is female.

That set off some alarms.

I don’t intend to make this particular job a career, so what ultimately happens in the long run at the business has nothing to do with me, however, as a woman I am outraged on her behalf because I see an injustice here and it’s much bigger than her, if I am correct.

I do have to ask myself if this is my battle? On the one hand, it is because I am female and feminist rage is rising because there is injustice and, well, injustice is bad. On the other hand, picking this fight will not make my life or her life any easier, and unlike her I don’t need this job. Nor do I wish to cause undo stress on someone I consider a great coworker and a friend.

And in the end will it actually accomplish anything? Those in power who are keeping the female workers from leadership positions will not have an epiphany and realize the error in their ways. If anything it’ll reaffirm whatever archaic beliefs about womankind they have.

I think a lot of the problem is I’ve never had a situation so blatantly in front of me. I don’t enjoy having to think about the fact that there are people in my life with warped views… Even worse if they are unaware that the views are in their heads.


Today was good.

Aside from waking up coughing up my lungs, it was a good day. I went back to bed for a few more hours after said coughing and then got up, got ready, and went to the store for groceries.

But the really good part of the day came around 4ish when I met with someone from a liquor company about a job. Just part-time for now, but there is a chance to move up in the company if I get the job.

I feel like I nailed the interview. I like to think I’m a naturally likable person, so I feel that helped. I’m eager to hear if I got the job, but likely won’t know until tomorrow. I figured I’d blog about it because I’ve been feeling the itch to write again. I told you it comes and goes; now it’s just a matter of figuring out what to write. There are, of course, my two novels in the works and my short stories, which I haven’t updated in, like, forever.

I know, I know, shame on me, but hopefully one of my projects will get some attention… When I find the time after work, new job, kung fu, learning piano, and all the other stuff I have going on. >.> It’s weird how busy I’ve become.

I wouldn’t have it any other way, though.

Must be the season

I feel depressed. Listless, if you will. And when I get into these sort of moods I usually end up restless and, in turn, do something incredibly stupid.

My birthday is Thursday. I will be turning 25 years old. And on some level I don’t care. It’s just another day. I’ll get up, go to work, come home, go to kung fu, come home again and go to bed.

I’d like to think my significant other will have some sort of surprise for me. He won’t. I already know this. He likes to think he’s mysterious, intriguing, and unpredictable, but he’s not. The reason I know he won’t is because he already made a comment about going out drinking after kung-fu. I was invited if I wanted to come along. But I was not at the forethought of this plan to consume alcohol.

And I admit, I did the girl thing. I said it was okay to go out with his friends when deep down it’s really not okay. I’ll get over it. And part of me is hoping by writing this down it’ll be like some sort of self-defeating prophecy and I’ll get a nice surprise on Thursday.

However, I’m not holding my breath.

For his Birthday, he was super bummed because one of his friends who had planned to visit canceled at the last minute. Aside from having cleaned the house top to bottom for his friend I hadn’t done much else in way of preparation for his birthday, so the news irked me. But then my thoughts went to him and what I could do at the last minute for him. I stopped by a friend’s house, gave them money to pick up a cookie cake for him that said Happy Birthday. Made plans with some of our local friends for dinner and had them come over with the cake and ice cream as a surprise just before we went to dinner.

It wasn’t much. And I don’t really expect much in return… I guess I just expect something, you know? A hug, a kiss, a card, a flower, something to show me that at a certain point he actually thought of me.

And I don’t want this journal to become a bitchfest about how horrible my life is, because it isn’t. I’m just, like I said at the beginning, a little depressed.

It’ll pass.


When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.

Henri Nouwen

A funny thing…

A funny thing happened to me today. Thanks to the glory that is the internet I got information about one of my aunts before my father (her brother) and my grandmother were told.

And it would be wonderfully fantastic and glorious if the news weren’t so goddamn terrible. I mean, like, life and death terrible.

I’ve never been good with death. I think most people are not equipped to deal with death and the sorrow that comes with being around the living. I’ve had family members die, it’s part of life, you know? You grieve and each day is gets a little better and eventually life goes on.

That’s what it does. It doesn’t come to a grinding halt because someone dies and when you or I die, life will still go on. It’s amazing to think about, really.

But what do you say to someone who is dying? How do you make peace with the idea that this person is slowly fading from existence? What do you say to their loved ones? Are there even words that can adequately convey how distressed and sorry you are that this is happening to them?

Once a person is dead, that’s that, you know? I’m sorry for your loss, grieve, eventually things will get better, etc… But while the person is still alive… There’s hope, I guess. And there’s nothing more tragic and gut-wrenching than watching it slowly fade and die from the eyes around you.

It’s sickening. And I don’t know how to deal.

Another issue is seeing all of these “We’ll keep you in our prayers.” Again, this is my issue, I’m not exactly what you would call religious? I have my spiritual side, but it’s intensely private. Any discussion about religion or god or the supernatural that anyone has had with me was likely just that: A discussion. Me providing alternate points of view to their own, not necessarily my own views.

And I don’t pray. I simply do not do it. And it feels weird for me to say something like that to someone knowing that I don’t believe in it working like that. I can hope (there’s that pesky word again) and think good will and thoughts and maybe it’ll be enough.

Having a blog is narcissistic as all hell, and I feel like it’s been nothing but my feelings about this whole matter when the people that I should be most concerned about are my aunt and cousins, and I do think of them, please believe me when I say that. It’s just with them around on many of my other online haunts, I’ve found I cannot project some of these thoughts without seeming callous and cold. I’m really not, at least, I like to think I’m not. Maybe situations like these could present me as stoic? Aloof?

I just don’t like feeling those emotions in the air around me. It makes it hard to react.


I survived the great snow-in of 2010. And by great snow-in, I mean like three inches of snow. Still it was enough to completely fuck over any and all side-roads and during one trip I managed to eat a ditch in my car something fierce.

My car is more or less ok, I think. I hope. All I know is it’s supposed to snow more tomorrow and if the phone rings I am not answering it.

I’ve been doing really well with my fiction pieces, still not enough courage or desire to write on either of my novels though. It’s starting, though. I feel the itch and that’s making me hopeful to produce something worth reading.

How many words does it take to make a story?

Well, as many as it takes to make it understood, so I am told. Day two of my “A Bit of Fiction” project. This one is a lot shorter than the previous, but I feel that it still captures the scene I’m trying to tell.

Mostly I think this exercise will help me with details in my writing. I actually look forward to the post in some ways. I find myself thinking during slow periods of my work day what I could write about, what little detail in my life will inspire my next scene.

A new blog!

As many of you know, or at least I will assume you know because you are my imaginary fan club, I have two other blogs, both dedicated to two novels I have in the works.

And by “in the works” I mean, I have some characters created, some of the world outlined, and a very, very general storyline for both. But I confidently maintain that once something solid comes to fruition from either story it will have a home on the internet.

But today I had an idea… I get these blurbs, if you will, in my head from time to time, and while they don’t really mean anything or seem to be worth trying to expand upon they do make neat little bits of fiction. I’ve posted one today and hope, as a writing exercise, to post one everyday until I get it through my head that my novels are worth writing.

Here’s hoping.

Something about writing…

I fear failure. I think most people do. I know that I can write. I know deep down I have this ability to paint a story with words. I know this. But there is still that little voice in the back of my mind that keeps saying: What if you really can’t?

What if all these stories inside my head don’t have a suitable voice? That thought is maddening. And so I procrastinate. I do other things. I jump into video games and television because there I am safe. I’m experiencing other people’s ability to tell stories. I read books because published authors do it so much better than I ever could, right?

But if I don’t write, how will I ever know? But I don’t want to fail. So I don’t write. And eventually all these ideas and stories that I so desperately want to tell fade into monotony.

That’s one of the things this blog is supposed to help, I think. Maybe if I’m writing… It doesn’t matter what something magical will happen. And one morning I’ll wake up and the words will be there and they will be mystical and wondrous and perfect and my stories will have a voice and everyone will read them and love them…

But first, I actually have to write.

Playing in Make-up

I felt like ass this morning when I got up for work. Trudged my way in, got done and came home.

I took a shower and then played in my make-up for a little while. I love eye-shadow and lipstick. I honestly think my lips are one of my best features and lipstick colors are accessories to me. And I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m bothering to tell you about my make-up choices for the day…

Well, when I got home from various runnings-around I watched a documentary called America the Beautiful and it was about our cultural views on beauty. Who has it, who doesn’t, and how they market to those who “don’t” in order to get them to buy products.

Lots of stuff about make-up and how it’s not regulated by the FDA the way we think it is. At the time of the film only four products had been banned in the use of make-up by the FDA in the USA… In Europe over 450 products had been deemed toxic if used in make-up and banned. Think about that for a second, I mean, really think about it.

I love make-up… It’s like face paint I’m allowed to wear all the time in public, not just because I go to the fair and have someone paint a butterfly on my face. I get to come up with different looks, decorate and accessorize and make myself feel pretty.

And I suppose in that last statement is the rub. The whole point of the documentary. And I see all these women the guy talks to and I see all their self-esteem issues and I think ‘why don’t they love themselves?’ And I have to wonder if my playing in make-up in front of my mirror lumps me in the same category as those women who’s very opinion and self-worth is wrapped up in this idea of beauty.

I’d like to think it’s not. I can stand in front of a mirror naked and pick apart my flaws until I just want to cry or I can stand there, grin, and find beauty in what I’m seeing.

I’m always telling people that I don’t dress up or put make-up on for anyone but myself. And I think that’s true for a lot of women. They use those things so they can feel pretty and beautiful in their own skin. But what’s making them feel that way isn’t their own skin at all, and that’s where I hope I differ. I liken make-up to a new outfit. It’s great, gives you a fresh new look, but ultimately gets filed in with the rest of your clothes.

And at this point, I’m just rambling and really have no point to make. People, love yourselves, I guess, is what I’m saying. You’re beautiful and unique and you shouldn’t let society tell you anything different.

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