The Man in the Elevator at 4 AM

So there is this whole big controversy going on in the nonbeliever circles about Richard Dawkins and his comments. You can read it here.  Dawkins made comments that were dismissive and, quite frankly, shitty.  A lot of men though, are all up in arms about the situation and how women are overreacting. Given that, I'd like to take this time to be quite inclusive to the men and extend my hand.

Hello, gentlemen. Welcome to the Rape Culture.

Welcome to a culture where women have been drilled into their heads every day, every single day, that they have to be on their guard against rapists at all times.

If they are not in guard and they get raped, it's their fault for being stupid.

If they show any signs of being nice or vulnerable and they get raped, it's their fault for being encouraging.

It is not feminists who have taught us this.  You assume the feminists taught us and told us to hate and fear men, but it wasn't.  We have been told this by friends, family, churches, lawyers, schools, and everyone else.

There maybe was that one or two times when we let our guard down because we thought the Special Safety Rules for Women were stupid.  The shitty thing is, for a lot of us, that one time we let our guards down, we actually did get assaulted.

So we take self defense classes, we travel in groups, we keep pepper spray on our person, and, for many of us, we structure our lives in a way to stay as far away from men as possible.

And no, it's not that we hate you.  It is merely that we have been told, over and over again, that it is our responsibility to stay safe and not put ourselves in those million situations where we can get raped.

What does this mean for you, as men?

It means that, like in the situation presented in the article, no woman will ever go have coffee with you at 4 AM in your hotel room.

It means that fewer women will come to your parties.

It means that fewer and fewer women will show up at the vacation spots where there is a known higher level of rapes.

It means that women won't just start talking to you in the book store or the coffee shop or the grocery store, because a lot of bad things have come from that as well.

It means that trust will become harder, perhaps impossible.

It means you will be viewed as a potential rapist.

And if you are someone who went into any of these situations with innocent intentions, this is going to suck. It will probably make you angry.

The interesting thing is, you will have two choices at this point. You can either be angry at all the women for not trusting men and avoiding them and being upset when you approached them . . . or you can get angry at the real cause here.

You can be angry at the rapists who purposefully go to Spring Break places to drug and rape as many women as possible.

You can be angry at the rapists who decide to violate the ancient rules of being good hosts and rape the women who come to their parties.

You can be angry at the rapists who practice, actually practice, at ways to draw women out and make them trust them, who hunt in book stores and coffee shops, all with the intention of doing violence to another person's body.

You can be angry at the rape culture for letting all of this seem fine.

You can realize that rape culture is fundamentally damaging to all people and all relationships.

And finally, like the others of us, you can work for ways to change it.

The International Kissing Day Sims Experiment

Today on Facebook, The Sims 3 posted that if people put pictures of kissing sims on their Wall, they would make them part of the International Kissing Day album.  So I posted this.

Okay, I know the pic is somewhat subversive. There is torture stuff in the background and she is wearing a mask, but people were so confused.

"Are they lesbians?"

"Fail! This is Medieval Sims, not Sims 3."

"How can she kiss him with the mask on?"

On the picture, I wrote:
It isn't Medieval. The blonde is a man. The torture set is from Club Crimson and everything else is from either the base game or FastLane. I just recolored the FL stuff to look more dungeony.

When I saw that creepy Dolores Umbridge hair from Generations, I got the idea to make like this 1950s looking dom.
And yet . . . people still asked if they were lesbians, if this was some other Sims game.  People commented how "gross" it was that it was two girls, how that just freaked them out. Some people thought it was hot.  I'm not sure how they think the dude with the big muscled arms is a girl.

Anyway, that was my contribution to International Kissing Day. Subversive and confusing kissing. Hah!

Social Snake Oil

Today I read an article written by the Devil. And by "the Devil," I mean Dr. Neil Clark Warren, who has degrees in ministry and psych that he got during the 1960s, which means all of his information on relationships was from decades before that.  He is closely associated with Focus on the Family and best known for the company he founded, eHarmony.

In his article, Dr. Warren began by talking about how "shocking" new statistics show that "for the first time ever, fewer than half of the households in the United States are married couples.  More couples now opt to merely live together instead of getting married, believing marriage to not even be necessary.

He considers this dangerous, because of course he does or at least pretends to, because he profits from marriage. He has handled a lot of marriage counseling over the years, works with a group kind of dedicated to promoting marriage by more or less scaring people about it, plus, the whole company that hooks desperate  people up.

The rest of the article is blahdeblah about how people really want to get married and won't be happy unless they do and how children don't do as well with single or divorced parents.  He brushes over a lot of other factors here, like how people are basically socialized to want to get married and how if you factor economic standing in with the "single and divorce household" children, you may find that not to be true.

He also brushes over how horrible and shitty and soulsucking marriage can be by basically saying it's not that marriage is broken, it's that people choose poorly.  Then of course, he begins to talk about how if people go through a system of compatibility, they can choose their spouses better.  I guess it kind of helps that he has a company that makes money, oh, ya know, DOING JUST THAT.

You know, I'm honestly not going to argue the merits of singlehood vs marriage here, because I've talked about that before.  What I want to say is this........companies like eHarmony and any institution that depends on it's finances coming from continuing generations of people who believe the same thing being produced have a lot of questionable motives when it comes to speaking about marriage and children.

A company like eHarmony can't afford for people to start realizing that they don't have to be married to be happy because then no one will be using eHarmony.  Organizations that lack the ability to draw in new members and rely almost exclusively on members being given birth to and indoctrinated can't afford for people to stop having boatloads of children because then their numbers will go down and they won't have the finances they are used to.

Whenever someone is talking to you, especially in a rather concerned or passionate manner, about the ills of society and whatnot, before you allow yourself to get emotional about it, always logically consider their angle.  What do they stand to gain if you listen to them? Are they telling you something that benefits you or does it really benefit them and take from you?

The simple fact is, to many people, marriage just isn't all that important anymore.  A lot of people want no more social interaction than what they can get from friends. The gender based factors are almost obsolete. Moreover, the social stigmas of being sexually active and/or having a child out of wedlock are fading.  Beyond that, there are people who opt out of sex all together.

Of course those last two freak the hell out of the Focus on the Family types.  And I'm honestly thinking the celibate one (ya know, as in celibate for nonreligious reasons, not because you're waiting for marriage or because everyone in the world refuses to have sex with you) freaks them out even more than the happy-go-lucky sluts (happy-go-slutties?).  The idea that people can be fulfilled and content without the drama of other people in their lives . . . oh, how alien! How do we make money of of that?

Hmmm,  I wonder how long it is before these groups (who tend to be rather anti-gay marriage) realize that there is money to be made in marrying off "them gayz."  I bet once they see the profit margins, they'll suddenly have a nice big revelation about how Jesus is just fine with this. After all, if straight people aren't getting married, they'll need to be getting their cash from somewhere.

The Childhood Home: Part Two, Burning

I know I've talked about the house burning before. I know that I discussed how it was burned by the KKK, in anger over my mother marrying (or . . . we assume she married him) Cuban. My brother was still very, very small and I think I was sevenish or so. I am fairly sure I mentioned it was on the Fourth of July, and that for years afterwards, I was very uncomfortable around fireworks. In a way, I still am.

Losing the house still hurts me.  It hurts so badly because even as a small child, I loved that house.  I walked away from the land without a second glance back, giving it all too my brother and step-father.  I would have fought them tooth and claw for the house.

But that wasn't to be.  The house burned and took my childhood, my dog, and really a great deal of my sanity with it.

I think I've written about this too, but it bears repeating because it is the single most important aspect of what happened that night.  So if you feel like I'm summoning my ghosts for self-indulgence, I'm really not. I want to understand and I want to really talk about what happened to me the night the house burned.

There is a moment or maybe more than a moment . . .to be honest, I'm not sure because time stands so still . . . when the house is consumed by the flames, but everything looks like it's still there, like if you could remove the fire, everything would be okay.  In the same way that something can be preserved forever in ice, that moment in the flames seemed to capture my home and all of its contents intact.

Also in that moment, as I guess part of my sanity really did slip away, I had this sudden urge to walk into the flames. I wanted to go into them and sit on the porch swing, open my bedroom door and sit on the floor by my dolls, holding them in all of that light and never realize when we melted together and burned away.

I get that what I just wrote sounds like bad goth fiction, but it's very, very true. And in the months that followed, when things were sad and stressful, when I got bounced around from family member to family member, I would find myself letting my mind drift back into that fantasy, sitting on the floor with my dolls as we burned and burned . . . and I would be comforted.

As things continued to get crazier, as mom's husband got more abusive and mom got more messed up, I began to feel my decision to resist the urge to run into that fire was the wrong one.  Yes, as a 7-8 yr old, I was thinking that suicide by burning to death was a better option than living my life as it currently was.  Several moments of horrible pain versus the constant hell mom was putting me through . . . maybe I was wrong.

And while I can't quite remember, I'm guessing it was during this time that I began cutting myself.  Possibly . . . I know the level of emotional comfort is very close between the fantasy about the fire and fugue state I would put myself into when I was jabbing sharp things into my feet.

You know, even now, 30 years later, while I am sketchy on a lot of details, I still vividly remember the beauty of that moment when the house stood in flames. I still remember the way my heart beat, how I was breathing, how everything sounded, and most importantly how my fingertips had just the slightest bit of sweat to them, like they wanted so much to pull me forward.

Sometimes I wonder if I think about that moment every day of my life, if somehow I always go back to it, back to choosing a life of pain over a few moments of pain was the right choice. I wish I could tell you I always think it was . . . but I don't.  Depression, panic, devastation, and sometimes even ennui have made me question it many, many times.

In any case, it is the Fourth and I will mourn those lost . . . Mary my baby doll, who wore a white dress and was loved beyond reason.  My Malibu Barbie, who had spiffy 70s tan lines and smelled like coconut oil. And Beth, darling, sweet Beth, the St. Bernard who loved me so much. I miss you all, like I miss my tea set and my antique bed and the jade grapes my father gave me.

You were burned and lost to me, taken by bigots into the fires of a house that caused my mother's madness . . . as well as my own.

The Childhood Home: Part One, The House that was Earned

The house was inherited from my great-grandmother, left to my mother along with 23 acres of land. This was not a gift. It was earned.

My mother lived with her grandmother for years.  Not because her parents were gone . . . in fact, they were just down the road.  She lived with her grandmother because the old woman was a demanding bully who always got what she wanted.

I have been told that at some point, I'm fuzzy on the details, she informed everyone that she would never lift another finger to do anything at all for anyone, including herself. For some crazy reason, everyone allowed this.

I have no idea how this happened, especially during a time when women were basically treated like servants. I guess she must have have cult of personality spades. Anyway, when my grandmother married into the family, she was informed she would be doing things for my grandfather's parents. And by things, I mean, everything.  Cooking for them, washing their clothes, driving them places. It was like having to managed two households but with no perks at all.

Oh and to be clear, the old woman wasn't nice about this. She didn't thank anyone or compliment what they did. No, she was a deeply bitter person who never saw a positive aspect to anything. My grandfather paid for her house, but it wasn't good enough. He paid for the upkeep, for the redecoration. He did the painting on it, made sure the yard was mowed. But none of it was ever done to her satisfaction.

Instead, the old woman lived in a fictional world where she knew best about all things and was burdened to be around people who lacked the skills or interest to live up to her expectations.  Her life was a state of perpetual misery. She made sure everyone else's was as well.

After her husband died, she informed my grandfather that she would not sleep in the house alone.  My uncle was sent to to stay with her for a while, but then he left for college. At that point, my mother was sent to stay with the woman.   Keep in mind, my mother was like seven years younger than my uncle.  She was just into her second decade when this madness began.

No one living knows what happened during these years. I know that my mother would only say the woman was "evil. Pure evil." I know that my grandmother, til the day she died, regretted sending her there. She knew she should have said no.  My uncle told me that one time he came home and found my mom hiding behind a bush, weeping and begging not to go back. My aunt told me that during these years, my mother was on "nerve pills" but didn't know what kind.

When I look at pictures of my mother as a little girl, she has a sweet smile, very bright eyes and so much light to her.  By the time I was born, when she was 19, all of the light was gone. It was replaced by chaotic electrical darkness and spiraling madness.

During the time I knew her, my mother was driven by two goals.....to be loved and to be numb. Love was looked for in a series of progressively worse men. Numbness was found in liquor and drugs and drama. All of it stemming from this old woman and her actions.

So while I know that my grandparents saw giving my mother the house to be just compensation for all the years she put up with the old woman, I wonder if it really was. Now that I am an adult, and live in a house with the ghosts from my teenaged years, I know how much the past stays in the walls, even if you try to make them your own.

Mom loved that house, loved that house, and saw it as her own.  But this was also the house where she was tormented, terrorized, and quite probably abused. In many ways, giving her that house was cruel.

An Answer to the Dreaded Question

Today, a friend posted a joke about the age old question women supposedly ask, "Does this dress make me look fat?" Oh, us women!  We're so silly and vain, and evil, always trying to trap the innocent menz.

So, I addressed this in a serious manner.  This was my reply:

Okay, TO BE FAIR, there are clothes that make perfectly thin people look heavier, depending on the cut of the clothing or the fabric. Some colors or patterns add the appearance of bulk as well.

I would never ask someone this question (because in my case, it IS the fat making me look fat), but I would ask them if the outfit was flattering or no. Sometimes people can't tell, especially from some angles.

And sometimes people just lack self awareness. Having been fat most of my life, I have a pretty good idea of the things to avoid.

1. Any color that will remind people of something round they can comment on (orange=look at the big pumpkin bitch! red=attack of
the killer tomatoes bitch yellow=look! It's a school bus!)

2. Anything that shows too much skin is always a bad idea. Also, anything cut to potentially show skin. No one wants to be the fat person who accidentally shows their belly or whatever. People mock.

3. Anything that promotes people viewing vast expanses. If you have a wide ass, buy shirts long enough to cover it. Everyone knows you still have a wide ass, but it seems a little less wide.

I get that men see this as a trap question. I also know that for some women, it is. However, in other cases, people just really want to know if they're going to be mocked when they leave the house.

We live in a culture that doesn't TEACH people how to work with what they have, but at the same time, we act like anyone who isn't looking up to par should be stoned to death or something. All of this adds up to one of the many reasons I don't leave the house.

Friday List: Chaos Magic

My fingers are swollen today. I always hate it when they're swollen. The pain sucks, but I can handle that.  It's just that when my fingers aren't swollen, they look like my mom's fingers.  When I can see her fingers in mine, I miss her a little less.

This week has been rather soul draining for me. Does anyone else ever get tired of everything being so predictable? Don't people, as they say the same damned things over and over again, complain about the same things, do the same things, think the same narrow little thoughts....does it never occur to them that maybe they could switch it up, open up, maybe have a little empathy, maybe consider their words or their actions before spewing them forth? Probably not. Because, sadly, the world is predictable.

Then today, when my soul felt like it had been sucked almost dry, something happened. Someone, randomly, told me something that was completely out of the blue, unpredictable, and, well, just plain great.  And with this one act, this one small alteration in my knowledge of the truth of the world, my soul was full again and I could move forward.

Of course, this is the basic principle, as I understand it, of chaos magic. The idea is that most things follow pattern. Most belief systems, most philosophies, most paradigms, have a set and orderly pattern to them. Things function in them, yes, but usually in the way that you will get predictable results. 1+1=2.

Chaos magic, however, functions on the idea that belief is a tool, not a set foundation, and that paradigm shifting can cause the most potent results.

So, tonight's list is suggestions for shifting things up just enough not to be predictable.....just to see how things change for you.

1. If your usual response to something displeasing you is to bitch, don't bitch. This is especially true if it's something that happens often and you always bitch about it.

Instead, direct your thoughts elsewhere.  When MOMENT OF POTENTIAL BITCHERY happens, keep your mouth closed and think of your favorite childhood story.  Or your favorite ice cream. Or something. Anything positive to keep you from complaining.

Why? Because complaining is like cat puke. It's something we feel we need to get out of our systems and when we do, like the cats, we rarely think anything about it. However, the people around us are suddenly left with this cat puke and have to clean it up. To us, it may be forgotten, but it's still soured the day for someone else.

A personal example of this is my bitching about the heat. I do it all the time. I do it on the blog, I do it at home, I do it to the cats.  The thing is, the bitching is useless. I can't move out of the area, I can't stop it from being stupid hot, and can't take off any more clothing than I already have.

Instead, I'm promising myself when I start to bitch about the heat, I will spray bottle my wrists with water and think about cool summer nights when I was a kid.

2. Ask someone about their believes or customs.  Now, I don't mean let them speak for three seconds before you start arguing with them, I mean ask. And really listen to what they say. Consider what they say and why they believe this way.

If you ask them about a custom or ritual, ask them to describe how this makes them feel, what comfort it brings, what hope.

And don't be defensive about it. Don't think about it in terms of how it makes you feel, just in terms of what it makes them feel. The idea here is to understand someone else more than you do already.

3.  Tell someone something true and positive you feel about them.  And I don't mean someone you say these things to all the time, I mean someone you rarely speak to, but notice a lot.

For instance, there is a person I know who does not view themselves as attractive.  And, by society's standards, this is true. However, they have the most beautiful head of hair I've ever seen.  It's just stunning and looks so soft and almost angelic. Occasionally, I tell them how pretty their hair is.  Because they needs to hear it.

4.  If you find yourself about to cause harm, stop.  Do you insult someone on a regular basis? Do you hit? Do you scream? Do you belittle people? Try not doing it. And yes, I'm serious about this. As simplistic as that seems, just....honestly try not doing it. Stop yourself. Show the discipline you claim others lack. Don't cause harm.  Trust me, you'll be shocked at the results.

5. Change your routine. Hah! Says the woman who does the same damned blog theme every Friday!

No, seriously, this one really works.

My roommate and I go shopping twice a week.  The store we always go to . . .  well, it's a big box store and we hate it.  The vibe is always bad, it's always crowded, loud, and full of zombies and their screaming zombie babies.  Last night, we decided that we would go to another store for groceries instead.

Later in the day, I told him that I felt like we hadn't done anything that morning.  The stress level was so slight compared to the big box that it was like we just sat in the house and let the cats cool us with fans.

Anyway, try one of all of these things and you might find some interesting changes in your life. At the very least, things will be less predictable and that is always good.