Due to the economy hitting me hard below the belt (in the wallet, specifically), I haven't been keeping my finger on the pulse of what's been going on around here socially or culturally, even. In fact, I haven't really left the house much.

However, one thing that I'm learning that anyone can do in her own back yard is plant a garden. And growing ones own vegetables is a good way to beat rising grocery prices, AND get healthy. It's also a fun and meditative activity. I've also bonded with some old friends via facebook in our discussions about gardening.

Another plus, it's the one physical activity that gets my mother off the couch (I think she's depressed a lot). It's good exercise, and soon my fella and I are going to prepare a garden space for his mother so she can get some sunshine and physical activity.

Here are two Oklahoma web sites on gardening that I really like. I've been known to become intimidated by the lights, tools, supplies, frames, edging etc. gardeners use, as I have very little to spend on my garden. I don't let that stop me, though: if gardening wasn't easy enough for anyone, our species wouldn't have survived this long.

Wisdom of the Trowel
http://wisdom-of-the-trowel.blogspot.com/

Oklavore
http://oklavore.com/


Personally, I'm discovering that my aversion to food as a young adult was really just an aversion to salt, meat and grease. I found that I love dishes with interesting flavor combinations. I never thought I could cook, until I bought my house. Now I'm in my sunny kitchen all the time, sampling, smelling, testing, drying or freezing. This is another reason why I can't wait to have my own vegetable garden...all the freshness and taste combinations.

Also, a cookbook that I really like is called The New Laurel's Kitchen: a Handbook for Vegetarian Cookery and Nutrition. It's organized by vegetable, and not only lists recipes, but also says how you can cook a vegetable to best retain its nutrients, as well as naming the vegetable's nutrients.

Another new thing for me is making a compost bin. Since I use a lot of vegetables, grains and tea in my in diet, I have a lot of good stuff left over that I don't want to just throw in the trash. I got this $15 32 gallon trash can with lid at Home Depot. I drilled holes in the sides and the bottom. I filled it halfway with alternating layers of cheap gardening soil, dry crushed leaves from the lawn and organic refuse from the kitchen. I have a little spatula next to the compost pile so when I add stuff, I can stir the mixture around. When it's done, I'll have some nice rich soil for gardening that my veggies and flowers will love!

God Hates Bigoted Cult Members

We had a little excitement in OKC last week. Fred Phelp's crazies came to see us. They protested outside of the Capitol building because the state senate had the audacity to allow a gay man, a state representative, to read a prayer. The horror. Thank Gawd we have these holy warriors to come and spread their own special brand of irrational hatred. Chutah and I came up with a fun little 'shop of their picture that appeared in the local news.



This was a direct result of an email exchange wondering what kind of life that little boy in the center of the picture is living, and if it isn't enough for him to be removed from that kind of horrifying existence.

My favorite part of their visit, though, is that the Westboro "Church" randomly chose Moore High School for a second protest in the region. They had posted on their web page that Moore High was full of "violent brats" and "sluts." As far as I know, these kids aren't any more violent or slutty than any other high school in the region or state. The really awesome thing about this portion of the protest is that local bikers reached out to other bikers and they formed a counter-protest. These bad ass bikers situated themselves across from the Jesus-freakery to protect the students and community from the notorious faggotry of Westboro. In addition to the bikers, veterans came out to protest, and high school students stood up for their school and their classmates. Throughout the city, churches held prayer vigils to remind their faithful and everyone else that religion is not all extremist and cultish.

I would have preferred the local religious community made their presence known at the counter-protest, but the fact that all different segments of the community pulled together to oppose the nutjobs gave me the warm fuzzies. With the attention given to these extreme groups, it's easy to forget that most people are decent and are willing to stand up for what's right and rational.

Oklahoma's State Rock Song

Today the Flaming Lips' song "Do You Realize" became Oklahoma's official state rock song. The promotion was done with a collaboration between the Oklahoma Film and Music Office and the Oklahoma History Center. And actually, it looks like there will be an exhibit opening at the Oklahoma History Center about the history of Rock and Roll in Oklahoma in May 2009. Go here to learn more: www.anotherhotoklahomanight.org

When I got home from work today, I saw a few of my friends on facebook put up new pictures of them with the 'Lips. In the spirit of the day, I put on my favorite Flaming Lips album At War with the Mystics.

My appreciation for Wayne Coyne grows exponentially as I get older. Despite his world fame, he still stays in Oklahoma, and continues his active roll in leading the next generation into creative, energetic and optimistic community leadership. Listening to At War with the Mystics tonight, in honor of their new official status, made me feel hopeful that it's a reflection that things are going to get better in our state. It makes me proud to be a part of that change, and gives me some resiliance against the critics who weren't able to make changes because they were shot down in the past.

It's important to be aware of the inspiration that keeps us moving. We're all in this together, and we want to make our state a great place to live for EVERYONE!

Nicknames...on my mind

This may not be of any kind of intellectual topic but it is on my mine...

I understand why people get them. Shortening names to Jen, Tim, or initials makes it easier for kids to spell and say. But what drives me is when people go by their middle names. Why don’t you just go by what you are named? Do you hate your first name so much that you don’t go by it? Why did your parents name you something you don’t go by? Who the hell started calling you by your middle name?

My cousin goes by C. Ed on documents. When he was born, my aunt asked my husband what he wanted to name his son. He said, “I don’t care what you name him, but I am going to call him Eddy." So, what did his my aunt do? Named him Charles Edward so on all of his official documents, he is C. Ed.

It is the dumbest thing I have ever heard of in my life and I have to be related to them...

I work with 2 people like that…I work with Susan but her real first name is Barbara and John whose real first name is William…so all of their official documents are under. *Susan* has the nerve to get mad when slip up and call her Barbara. Sigh…please, people, just name them what you are going to call them.

Books..

You know books that change your viewpoint of everyday life? Well, "The
Reader" by Bernard Schlink did just that...

It was reminiscent to me of "Angela's Ashes"...they way I actually felt
hungry while reading it because people were starving.

I initially picked it up at the library book sale on Friday night for
.50 cents in the non-collection, overpriced area of the Annual Library
book sale of book seekers, body to body, like Mardi Gras on Bourbon
Street in New Orleans. I picked it up last night before I went to bed
and finished it during my lunch hour to day. It was just that powerful
and unlike any book I have ever read. A very fast read, like "Angela's
Ashes". I see it a book that will be required reading in the years to
come. It was an Oprah book club pick...I am usually disappointed in her
selections and pleasantly surprised she picked something like this.

I only wanted to read it so I could compare Kate Winslet's character in
her Oscar Winning Role and extremely satisfied that I did. I cannot
wait to see the movie tonight and pray they did the book justice!

It was worth every penny of the .50 cents I paid for it.

Gin and Generic Juice

Must blog more. I know. It’s getting pretty bad.

So today, on NPR, I heard a story about the packaging of Tropicana. They explained that the usual packaging of the orange juice features an orange with a straw in it, and they had changed it to have a glass of juice that wrapped around the side of the carton.

They are changing the package back next month due to customer complaints. According to the report, customers complained it made the package look “generic.” This brings to mind a couple of points.

One, what’s the problem if it looks generic? You know what you’re going after, and once you locate the new generic-looking package, you put it in the cart. I’m imagining a bunch of blue hairs in designer track suits suffering from mortification that another blue hair in a designer track suit say her buying GENERIC JUICE. What a travesty.

Two, who actually calls and writes these manufacturers to complain about stuff like this. If I see that the packaging for a product has changed, I just think “different” and move on. I don’t spend hours in the grocery store developing a critical analysis of this packaging as compared to the previous packaging. I do not have a deep, spiritual bond with the packaging for my products. There are not enough hours in the day already without spending time analyzing juice boxes.

If Valentines Day Cards told the Truth

I got this from my friend....who was recently jilted by his fiance.

If Valentine's Day Cards Told The Truth
By CRACKED Readers

Men and women tell each other that honesty is the most important part of a relationship, which is itself a lie. Men want their wife to tell them she's never been with a lover who rocked her world quite so violently. Women want their husband to tell them ... whatever the hell it is women want to hear.

We asked you to use our article from a few years back as inspiration, and show us what Valentine's Day Cards would look like if they were actually honest.

Mame's House

Chutah took me to a small town hippie artist commune last week. She takes me to the best places. It was very interesting; a group of artists living together and sharing a house. Then they vote someone off. Just kidding. They saw a lack in their community, and decided to bridge the gap by hosting a get-together every week.

Their description of the night’s upcoming events reminded me of the zaniness of Auntie Mame. They do art related stuff when they get together, but usually nothing structured. If someone wants to play music they do so (and I think they had enough guitars to cover everyone if it was a sing-a-long), or they might paint, or do a craft, or even cook if the mood takes them. Mame would have fit in well. They were incredibly gracious and welcoming people, sharing their work with us, and inviting us to participate in everything from the projects to the drinking and making of quesadillas.

I didn’t feel my usual nervousness with them; I was there for business, so business mode was on. But there were actors there. Talking to them was like getting to speak your native language in a foreign country. Oddly, not many women talked to me. I don’t know what that means.

Everyone was excited about one guy coming to the gathering, and it seemed everyone made a point to tell us about him and how they didn’t think he could make it. He did make it. This may not seem especially crucial, but the thing was, when he came in the door, I could tell why he was so important to the group. After talking to him for about 30 seconds, I felt a connection. I wanted to talk to him more. It was so strange. I can’t remember the last time I was that interested in someone upon the first meeting. He wasn’t really remarkable in any way, but somehow, he was the most interesting person there.

We were invited back, and with our new project, we’re probably going to be spending some time with them over the next few months. I think I need to go back for art night at the hippie commune; I need to speak my native language.

This Kid: Totally Not Being Forced Into the Child Pageant Circuit

You have to go to the link to see the whole thing with pictures....excruciating, hilarious. My stomach actually lurched at the part about the "DIY fake tan."

***************************

On last night's episode of Toddlers & Tiaras, we got to learn the difference between "glitz" and "natural," and were once again assured that pageant kids participate because they want to.

This particular pageant was "conservative," and more about "natural" girls than "glitz" girls. There was still a swimwear portion, and an evening gown portion. The only real difference seemed to be the absence of false eyelashes. The episode focused on three contestants:

Kayleigh, 6


Story, 5


And Marleigh, 2


Kayleigh is a "natural" pageant girl, and she doesn't wear any makeup. She has two moms.

She kept referring to her as "our" kid. Case in point, "Because we didn't do pageants, I didn't think any of our kids would."

Story is a pro. She was born for this, since that's the only explanation as to why her mother gave her such a name. She's "glitz," and she knows what she's doing, even though she admits that she doesn't "like smiling too much." She's won tons of crowns, sashes and trophies, the latter of which she plays with like they're Barbies. This scene showed her in the act, saying, "Hey sister, do you wanna have some cookies?"

Story's older brother is involved in her training, and scores her rehearsals in his poetically titled, "Story Report."

Unlike his attitude toward correct spelling, he takes these sessions very seriously. "She looked like she was actually real mad. That's what I wrote down on 'beauty.' And she was looking at the board. I know that. She was looking at the board."

Marleigh is a different story. (Ha, "story.")

Her mother, though eternally optimistic, is in complete denial about her daughter's enthusiasm for this.

Still, she puts a lot of effort into her 2-year-old's success, and even gives her DIY fake tans.

She also involves the family pet in her torture methods primping, in a desperate attempt to normalize the process for Marleigh. Like, "See, don't you want to be pretty like a dog, Marleigh?"

This method of conditioning is flawed, though, as it appears that Marleigh doesn't just want to look like a glitz dog, she wants to behave like one, too.

Her mom kept saying things during Marleigh's perpetual tantrum like, "She really turns it on when she gets on the stage." Which just seemed ridiculous as the child was sobbing as her name was being called.

But it turns out her mom was totally right. The minute she stepped into the light she started laughing and charming the crowd.

Story, on the other hand, moves like an android who was programmed to swing her arms while walking just like humans do.

I think they sell her in Japan.

If you get two, you can make them have some cookies.

So the main thing here was Glitz vs. Natural. There were no specific rules for the pageant, so there were examples of both. As ethically superior as Kayleigh's two moms felt they were by not putting makeup on their daughter, they still strong-armed her into wearing uncomfortable, expensive gowns like any other Glitz family, despite her protests.

See, moms, this is what you get when you raise your 6-year-old to trade in makeup for sensible shoes. She starts valuing function and thinking for herself, attitudes that are detrimental in the pageant world.

In the end, 2-year-old Marleigh only got 2nd runner up. There were only three contestants in her age group.

And Story beat out Kayleigh for the crown in their age division.

OR DID SHE?


There was a mistake with the scoring, so they actually bothered to dethrone a 5-year-old, and hold a re-crowning ceremony that only Kayleigh's family attended.

There was frost on the ground, but a jacket would've covered up her "natural" look.

awesome art program online

fun to play with, I made this. I should put it on the fridge

http://bomomo.com/

Wil Rocks the World

He loves his wife, he loves his kids, he owns his geekiness, and he rocks Bon Jovi at Sci Fi Cons. My hero:



The joy to be found here is truly a thing of beauty

Cold Fish, Part 3

There is a discussion going as a result of the article about women being attracted to other women. Even hetero women, it seems, have a touch of the gay. These bloggers are discussing the possibility that patriarchal depictions of women are leading other women to be attracted to their own. One blogger states that women have become a symbol of sex. In research, such as our cold fish survey in part 1, women have described being attracted to the female form in pornography, but finding the male form has no impact. In advertising, the sexualized woman is to be found more often than the sexualized male. This is making people wonder—is the fact that media is hetero male-oriented making women entertain sexual thoughts about other women?

Dan Savage, our favorite sex advice columnist describes female sexuality as very fluid. Despite the bitching of his critics, he claims that a large portion of females that claim a “bisexual” designation go on to have long term heterosexual relationships or eventually get married--to a man.

General levels of acceptance for homosexuality are rising, so it stands to reason that women feeling some Sapphic urges would be more comfortable expressing those urges. In a time when “I Kissed a Girl” is a top 40 hit, the idea of being just a little gay is trendy. There’s also the consideration that men find the idea of two women being together to be sexy. This all gives a woman, albeit a shallow one, a lot of reasons to consider short-term bisexuality. Not only does it give a thrill because of the taboo nature of the activity, but it also gives a thrill to the object of such women’s desires—men.

This is not to say that bisexuality in women is a myth. Described above is say, bisexuality light, the “just a phase” kind of bisexuality. There are plenty of women who are truly bisexual and enjoy the benefits of having both men and women in their beds and hearts. But true bisexuality doesn’t explain the phenomenon of straight-identified women who are reportedly finding images of women to be more sexually arousing than those of men.

It seems pretty simple, really. Women are marketed. We are the sexy but (usually ineffectual) part of the superhero team, the sexy purveyors of products, the sexy focus of pornography. Very rarely are men sexualized in this way in mainstream media. Some beautiful men sell cologne, but most of the time we see an average male surrounded by beautiful women as a result of his amazing smell. (Thanks, Axe). The men in ads are complete idiots who can’t do anything, relying on the woman of the house to make everything work. I can see why this isn’t turning the women on.

Pornography is a whole issue of its own—the male participants are chosen by certain body parts, with the misguided thinking that if it’s big enough, that’s all that matters. In straight porn, the female audience is expected to be as impressed with the equipment as the men are, and completely ignore the fact that the actor is either completely unattractive or just a prop to fulfill a male fantasy of going through the same old tired motions with an attractive woman. Men are strange creatures, desiring to live vicariously through men chosen to make them feel inferior and give them hope at the same time. I’m not surprised that the token men in these films aren’t grabbing a woman’s attention.

Once women grab creative control of some of these situations, then we’ll start to rediscover the male as a sex object.

Cold Fish, Part 2

My own response to the idea that women don’t enjoy/want/desire sex: it is unfathomable how this idea perpetuates. This idea was stated as fact--women want less sex than men--in multiple sources, including this NYT article. It is stated that 30% of women suffer from a lack of sexual desire or levels of sexual desire lower than the norm. Most times, the discussion then moves directly to a description of hopes on the horizon of drugs that will be the female equivalent of Viagra; never mind the fact that Viagra works to create and maintain an erection only, not bolster a flagging desire.

Women are seen as asexual creatures and men are seen as hypersexual creatures. In my limited experience, and that of my circle of friends, this does not bear out. I know many women who want sex, and seem to want it more than their male counterparts. The idea itself is nonsensical on a biological level. How does that help the continuation of the species? Surely the female experiences the same level of desire.

In my opinion, it is the continuation of the Madonna/whore complex and the focus on male desire that leads to a lack of sexual response in women. Women still feel pressured to deny their sexuality. I’ve discovered a group of Vixens who I can be frank about sexuality with, but in other situations, and other groups of women, to admit to being highly sexual is still a bit scandalous and embarrassing. So I’m not at all sure that groups of women, when confronted with a poll regarding their sexual desire will be answering honestly. Sorry, girls.

Secondly, Cosmo tells these women that they should be focused on “blowing his mind” or a little further south. Discussions of improving the female experience of sex are few and far between. I’m sure a lot of women are experiencing the backlash from this kind of focus. Men are expecting to have their minds blown, while women are experiencing sex for pleasure, but not expected to experience the kind of pleasure their partners are experiencing.

The symptoms of this kind of behavior is easy to see. Increasingly, women are relying on sex toys in the bedroom to get theirs. I’ve heard the statistics, something like 70% of women cannot reach orgasm without a little technological assistance or direct stimulation of the clitoris. It could be expected that with this information readily available, that men would be incorporating direct clitoral stimulation to make sure that their bedmates get theirs. I’m sure there are some, but it seems to be far from common. It seems the male fantasy of bringing a woman through the power of the penis alone is dominating the bedroom, leaving large portions of the female population to either fake it, or reassure the men in their lives that they just enjoy the physical sensations and that release isn’t that important.

And true, female sexuality can be a tricky thing. It’s ever-changing, and there is never going to be the strategy that works for every woman, or even the same woman every time. Also true, the physical sensation and intimacy is enough, even when an orgasm isn’t a part of sex. But instead of jumping to these conclusions about cold women and how they need medication, had they considered foreplay? I mean, honestly.

Cold Fish, Part I

This is going to be a blog on a blog on a blog, but I found on The Stranger’s blog, Slog, and entry referring to a blog regarding the article on the cover of the New York Times’ Magazine. Follow?
The original article covered female sexuality. The same ideas are covered in the responding blogs: women don’t enjoy sex and that it is a feminist ideal to reject sex. Also, they explore the idea of women being attracted to other women as sexual objects. This will be a three part response, because I’ve got a little bit to say as the resident nympho.

Early feminist thinking cast women as the unwilling commodity. The woman was an object desired for sex, for comfort, and for the propagation of the species. She, as well as her wants and desires, were unimportant. The initial feminist response was a rejection of men, which led many women to reject sex or turn to lesbian relationships for an outlet. Later, revolutionary new feminists reclaimed heterosexual relationships, focusing on their own desires and needs, making sure that their sexuality was expressed. Now, it seems that we are in a back slide, with women’s magazine covers proclaiming that their magazines hold the secrets to how to catch a man, how to keep him, and how to perform insanely sexual acts to blow his mind. In the same way as the description of modern Japanese sexuality in the love hotels post, it seems that once again as women we have been suckered into this idea that male sexuality is dominant.

In Sex in Crisis (by Dagmar Herzog), the author states that the basic female and male fantasies are complimentary. The female fantasizes of being pleasured and the man fantasizes about giving pleasure. But even in this, on the basic level, the psychology of the female leads her to be passive. In the blog responses that inspired this post, there is an argument that it is a situation of nature vs. nurture. And it makes sense. In a patriarchal society, there is a fundamental flaw. While a woman always knows that a child is her offspring, a man has no guarantee. In order to make sure that the wealth of a man is correctly passed on to his biological children, restrictions must be placed on female sexuality.

This is where the hymen and concept of virginity get it’s special place in the male imagination. If a woman comes to you with a guarantee that she couldn’t be carrying someone else’s child. If you carefully regulate her sexuality afterward, your chances of fathering the children in your household are much improved. This is the beginnings of the male shaping of female sexuality--the Madonna/whore complex. A man wants to experience pleasure with a openly sexual woman, but at the same time, can’t trust that woman to have only his children. So you have sex with the whore, but you marry a Madonna, a woman who exhibits much less sexuality. Therefore, you can be mostly sure she won’t run around on you, because her interest is less anyway.

Because the desired situation in most cultures is marriage, then that shapes the way that females are treated and taught about their sexuality from birth. If you want your daughter to grow into the kind of woman that can be married, then you must teach that daughter to be the Madonna. This is becoming a less important idea in modern American society now that women are capable of building their own lives as adults, but in the past, and in other cultures, it is tantamount. Be virginal and pure minded, and you survive. Otherwise, it is a life of expressing your sexuality at the whim of men looking for whores (and the set of behavioral rules that goes along with that).

I know as a woman from the Midwest, I have struggled with this set of cultural rules. I was raised in the Madonna tradition. As an adult, after a marriage that failed in large part to my being unable to fit the Madonna role, I struggle to fit into the dichotomy. At times, being the whore is divine, but I can’t support the image completely. I’ve proved that I’m not the Madonna. I’m stuck with the curiosity and knowledge that has led me to discover what I want, but the old-fashioned upbringing that inhibits me from being fully confident and able to explore the things that I want. I question my sexuality, from my drive to my desires, and fear that from a societal standpoint, I’d be found deviant.

Heartbreak Hotel

I found an awesome book of pictures this weekend.
Love Hotels. It presents pictures of Japanese love hotels without text other than the identification of the hotel and the name of the room. Pictured above is a portion of the Hello Kitty S&M room, an incredibly popular choice for those that frequent such places.

While the photos are presented without editorializing, there is an intro that gives information on the phenomenon of the love hotel in Japan. The love hotel is part of a history that begins in the geisha tea house. The Japanese author that has created this introduction points to a dichotomy between the Japanese idea of family/honor and sex/love. Amazing sex and love are not necessarily what a Japanese person expects to find in a marriage. The important thing is keeping the image of family/honor intact. This leads husbands and wives, but mostly husbands, to seek outside sexual contacts.

The love hotel, in the beginning, was somewhat like the American no-tell motel. The biggest difference seems to be that the love hotel is designed for rendezvous. In recent history, entrepreneurs have seen more potential in the love hotel, leading to highly stylized spaces for sex play: undersea adventures, classroom settings, a mock subway, and the ever notorious Hello Kitty room. It has become a hot thing for young people to party in the love hotel and more young singles frequent them.

The introduction takes a preachy turn as this Japanese author decries the focus of these hotels. S&M elements are to be found in most every room. The fantasies the rooms are built around are male fantasies, featuring schoolgirls being chained to blackboards and innocent women molested on the subway. In many cases, the people going to these rooms are young women who have just met their partners.

The author contends that the current state of the love hotel shows a break down in the male psyche that leads them to pursue women only as objects: the wife kept at home, and the woman chained to the Hello Kitty themed bed in the hotel room. There is a disparity in power in these situations to be sure, but I was a little sad that this amusement park approach to sex came with such a negative implication.

I wanted to imagine what it was like to be chained to the Hello Kitty bed without having to wonder about a society where men seem to prefer that all their women be helpless.

A Favorite Recipe for Tostadas

Spinach
Garlic
Bell peppers
Cheese
Jalapenos - fresh and the kind in the bottle
White Onions
Black beans
Corn chips or corn tortillas baked to a crisp

Heat the black beans separately, and one may saute the onions, peppers and garlic in vegetable oil.

Dump all of it on the chips, then bake together until the cheese is melted.

Serve with sour cream and avocados.

I eat this at least once a day. And you can put anything you want on it. I stopped short of potatoes today, because I thought that would be too much. But I love veggies, and this is a good way to get a bunch of them together for fun.

Nothing more popular in culture than marriage.

Last night I dreamed that I was visiting a big city on my own. I was at a conference or some gathering. This isn't much different than my reality, as I travel a lot, often to conferences, or for something related to adventure. And often I travel on my own. In this dream I was dressed sharp, was confident and didn't know exactly where I was going, but I was content with the meandering.

In the dream, there were some men chasing me with the intent to kidnap me. My good friend John appeared in the dream and tried to waylay them as I hid, but ultimately couldn't do much to stop them. I ended up in a small town in Texas, where I was looking for help from some people. I went to the video store, the gas station, the grocery, and the men who owned these places all looked at me as if the men who were chasing me in the city could see me through their eyes.

I have a good idea of where the dream comes from. In reality, I'm very independent. In fact, I'm planning a trip to Kenya, and I'm going on my own. I do all my own home repair, and grow my own food. I do most everything by myself, but I don't feel alone because I've got the world to keep me company.

I also walk around feeling very sharp and attractive, and the conference, well...one major personal characteristic is that I'm very involved, and I'm an idea person who gets off when people are attracted to my ideas.

In the dream, 99% of the men were bad guys, who I had work to avoid. I was fearful as to what would happen if they got a hold of me.

This is also similar to my experience. I've never felt so confident, attractive, energetic and creative as I've been since I made the decision to remain single. I like being by myself, walking confidently in heels and a suit like I owned the place. But in relationships with men, I haven't been able to embrace that freedom. Other than a few special men in my life, relationships with men have robbed me from being the big badass lady I'm capable of being. Their chasing me is to harm me....by taking away my freedom. They want me so they can harm me.

I just told my Dad and sister last night that I don't want to get married...I have too many interests (including love interests :) and there's no room in my world for negotiation. I take up too much space in my life to let any minor worm work its way in. I have brilliant love for my Dad, my grandma and brother and sister, and my friends, and that love is what reciprocates. That love is everything that matters in the world.

Epiphany

I finally figured it out. I can’t seem to catch a break in anything. Since I’ve moved here, it’s been pretty much bad all over. When I seem to be at my lowest point, something inevitably takes me lower. I can’t find a good job, I’m getting divorced, I have no money or prospects. But today, I know why.

In my company inbox this morning, I got a smartly designed powerpoint that explained to me that a Chinese proverb from the Netherlands sent by a South American Missionary could change my life (yeah, I don’t know). The proverbs advised that I could buy a lot of things, a house, a bed, or sex, but I couldn’t buy a home, sleep, or love. There were more examples, but these were the best.

The multi-national powerpoint then advised me that if I sent it on to 20 people, then I would be rich! Forget the fact that money can’t buy everything, as stated in the prior section of the power point, I could be Rich! If that weren’t incentive enough, there was a dire warning. If you don’t forward, then you will have bad luck. You’ll lose your job and your kids will get sick, but don’t worry, you can still redeem yourself by sending on 20 copies, and then you’ll be rich with healthy kids.

That was the moment I realized. I delete every one of those kinds of chains without a thought, except for perhaps cursing the person who sent me the crap in the first place. If I had just forwarded one on, I would be rich and successful and thin and probably the happiest person in the world. What a fool I’ve been.

I worship my elders.

I've been meaning to write about something I feel very passionate about, so I may get a little emotional.

I dreamed the other night that I was at a cafe with my family and there was a little commotion in the corner. An elderly woman was obviously in physical distress, and no one would call emergency. No one did anything, and it made me angry, so I took care of her, made her comfortable and called the paramedics. No one was doing anything but sitting around, so after the paramedics came to get the lady, I yelled, "You're all motherfuckers, and you all need to leave now!!" And my aunt came out to confront me, and I pushed her away. I was calling everyone a motherfucker.

I woke up, went to work and called the Senior Food Bank to volunteer. They couldn't take me because of my work hours, but referred me to some other agencies for seniors. I haven't felt so good and right about something in a long time.

When I was flying to San Francisco the in-flight movie was Young at Heart, which I've been wanting to see for a while. I think I was the only one on the plane sobbing. Here's a clip from the movie that's beautiful:



Here's the thing, it gets me really angry to think about how society treats/thinks of the gray panthers. And the truth is, they've enriched my life in ways that not one of the ass holes my age could ever accomplish. I wasted my younger years drinking with dipshits, and searching out relationships with worthless males, instead of spending my time with people who matter.

Seniors have made us who we are...we would literally not be here today if it weren't for them, for their sacrifices and innovations. They're rich with stories, and listening to them is learning from them.

In fact, my job is based on the histories of these people. I work with photographs from pre-statehood to the 1960s. I don't know what the fuck I'm looking at if I don't have someone who remembers to tell me. They tell me, I tell the researcher, who puts the information together and gives us a glimpse into who we were. All the stories come together to define us, past and present come together right here.

The old timers have the stories of what my city was like before it was destroyed by Urban Renewal. Valuing seniors is valuing our culture and our history. Where we came from is a big part of who we are now.

And if I ever hear anyone say something bad about the gray panthers, I'll knock their teeth out of their fucking skulls.

I'll leave you with one final video:

I only live in the bubble

(c)
(d)
(a)
(b)
(d)
One reason why I've stayed in this community, neighborhood hopping in the same great big central OKC bubble, is the art scene. We've got galleries in the Paseo, at the Fairgrounds and downtown, with really nice art openings. And I've seen some really cool stuff that gets the inspiration pumping. The only problem with attending art openings is running into art-loving ex-boyfriends because the community's pretty small.

I keep an eye on upcoming events by subscribing to the Oklahoma Visual Arts Coalition online newsletter, and write down on my calendar all the events that look interesting (and for me, don't cost to get in...because I'm poor). Go here to visit the OVAC web site, and browse the work by local artists here.

My ultimate local favorites are Paul Mays (a), Ruth Ann Borum (b), Tunde Darvay (c), and Sarah Hearn (d). These are my own personal favorites, but I'll cover some more popular favorites and galleries where they show in another blog.

I think Oklahoma has a great art community that can be even more great if we could just reach out further into the communities and get people in Midwest City, Yukon, Moore, etc. as excited about art as we are here in "the bubble." If there's one thing I believe in, it's that art is for everyone...everyone can create, and creation is a very human act. I mean...look at me, I'm a blue collar poor kid living amongst crackheads and prostitutes and I'm involved in the art scene!

Shuffle, Part Two

I went to Wikipedia for the main character’s name in Shuffle, and so much was explained. The author has listed it as “your typical harem romance.” I had no idea that such a thing existed, but sign me up. Just make sure I’m the harem master, not just a member. I also discovered that it is based on a Japanese “dating simulator.” This makes sense. The whole plot of the show is him being pursued by women, being the passive party while they take him underwear shopping, pick out special underwear to wear on dates, parade around in swimsuits, and get naked whenever possible.

For those of you who haven’t played such a simulator, it is just that. With the major exception that you play the role of the boy, and you are actively seeking some love (if you know what I mean). There is usually a cast of women for your choosing: a teacher, an innocent, a tease, a bookworm, sporty spice, someone with cat ears. There are several women for your choosing, some more difficult to “date” and others that are easy (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). There are obstacles to your wooing—so many hours in a day, a limit to the number of days, you have to keep your grades up. But your main goal is to get laid. I mean, “date.” As you successfully woo your lady friends, you are rewarded with manga style drawings of what base you made it to, leading up to the moment when you actually get a girl into bed, when you get a drawing of what that looks like. Kind of like Leisure Suit Larry, but you have to study.

So it’s an anime based on a computer “dating simulator” in which the horny teen has been recast as the virtuous prince. He just can’t help it if the women follow him around. By the way, if you’re interested in playing a simulator, there are some free “dating simulators” available for download, and some of the translations into English are intentionally hilarious. Bonus entertainment value.

Shuffle!

I can’t help but to join in on conversations with geeks at night school about anime. They get very excited about their anime, and compare which anime you watch to what they are watching. The men usually throw out the same names: Naruto, Dragonball Z, and Inuyasha. I’ve not really gotten into those. I’ve gotten into in-depth discussions regarding the different series that we usually share (Death Note, Bleach) and been given more spoilers than I care to think about.

But one guy, who was a little bit special, gave me a recommendation for one I’d never even heard of. Shuffle. It’s on Hulu, so I thought I’d check it out. I put it on my listing of tv shows, and the kids fired it up one weekend. There was the warning that it was for mature audiences only, but I don’t generally worry too much about that, because I figured there were a few bad words or one of those weird moments like when Sailor Moon transforms, and everyone feels a little uncomfortable.

Turns out it’s for a little more. Here’s the premise of the anime. Young man (Rin Tsuchimi) is an orphan, he lives with a young woman who lost her family in the same accident. She lives to serve him. One day at school, two new students come in. They are both beautiful girls; one is the princess of the gods, the other is the princess of the demons. They are best friends, and somehow came to know the young man from when they were kids, and they want to marry him. With their dads in tow, they are wooing him. He also has a best friend who is in love with him, but she keeps it secret, despite her blatant overtures.

Whether it’s because I’m western, or because I’m a woman, I find the whole thing rather disgusting. He shows very little interest in any of these women, and while he’s a thoughtful person, respecting their feelings and treating them as human beings, the fact that the whole story revolves around all these girls with a slightly different look and slightly different personality going to the mats for this guy is too much for me. There are other fish in the sea, ladies.

Eventually we got bored with the whole enterprise, and gave up around episode seven.

Sounds like . . .

OK, I was thinking about the blog, and thinking that my sad little birthday post might have ruined the party. Like when you see a movie, and there’s a house party, and everybody’s dancing, and people are swinging from the chandeliers and talking loudly and what not, and then that one guy (you know the guy) says something highly inappropriate and you hear the sound of the arm of a record player being ripped across the record, and everybody stops and stares at the offending person. And then you have dead silence as everybody judges.

But then I thought, hey, I bet these young whippersnappers these days aren’t even familiar with that noise. I’ve had vinyl all my life, even though I don’t really use it that much. I know the sound, though. That sound that means eighties movies and faux pas. It’s a universal signifier for the social difficulty. Or at least, it used to be. I hear it in commercials still. (I think it’s Twix commericials, right before they implore you to “chew it over with a Twix”) Do the young ‘uns know what that sound is? Are there enough DJ’s still scratching to keep it alive? Will it continue to be an influence until our generation passes and then quickly fade away like the sound at the party?

I guess sounds die. I had never really thought about it before. There are surely an infinite number of things that made their own unique sounds that we will never hear; sounds that are lost to antiquity. A sound seems like a stable and constant thing. There are variations in even repeated sounds, but the idea that you could lose the sound of something forever is a sad one. Languages are an obvious loss. Losing the sound of a people’s language is tragic. The loss of the sound of a musical instrument seems terrible too. Even losing the sounds produced by machinery made by man seem to be a great loss. So do your part, introduce the youth in your life to that sound.

I can see me explaining that to my kids. “ . . . and that’s when you know what you said is SO NOT COOL. You’ll hear the sound, and then everyone will stop everything and stare.”

End of Holidays

Every year at this time, I’m hit with a triple whammy: Christmas, my anniversary, and my birthday. It must have seemed like a good idea to schedule a wedding in between Christmas and my birthday at the time, but I had never really considered the poverty that I would be living in forever.

I love Christmas, and I love giving presents. I never am able to give the kids what I want to, much less anyone else. Generally, I forgo presents so they can have them. I’m sure this is the way it should be.

Sometimes we’ve managed to go out for our anniversary. It is hit or miss, but sometimes we do. Last time we went out for our anniversary, the waitress gave me the check. I was greatly disturbed by that. To me, it signaled that there was no look of romance about the date. I don’t remember any romance, but still. This year, I planned a dinner despite the impending divorce, and he went to his grandmother’s instead.

Today is my birthday. I’m thirty-one, and I still have a fixation on presents. I like them a lot. There is no money for a cake or presents. My mom always sends me a present, and for that, I’m very glad. I feel like I should be over presents, but I can’t help myself.

Then again, the highlight of my day so far has been a call from my dad to wish me a happy day. It reminded me of a birthday from a long time ago, probably when I was 10 or 11. My birthday was on a weekend, and my dad was going fishing, and because it was my birthday, I got to go too. It was very exciting, and very cold. I remember my mom telling my dad to wake me up at 6ish in the morning, because that’s when I was born. He did, too. I was sleeping in the truck, with my head asleep on dad’s shoulder. He woke me up and wished me happy birthday. I smiled and went back to sleep. If only I could go back to sleep today.