Saturday, February 18, 2012

Moments in My Head #10


Whitney Houston died.  Across Facebook and probably Twitter, some fans were mourning by posting digital tributes.  There are a lot of things in this world that I don't understand.  I don't understand how the Mayans could predict the end of the world, when they couldn't predict their own demise?   I don't understand how anyone can judge anyone's else life and choices until they he/she has done a stroll in their shoes DURING THE SAME TIME PERIOD.  Let's face it we are victims, in part, of the time period and its circumstances under which we live.  It isn't just who you are, but where you are and when you are.  Think of Ira Levin's "Boys From Brazil."  Each one of those little Hitler wannabes needed to have as many of the events and their timing as happened in Hitler's life as possible to be have any likelihood of recreating him.  Assuming that could even be possible, given the varieties of uniqueness that go into creating a human being.  
But I digress, the point was I don't understand a lot of things and you can tell that I think about them almost obsessively.  I've frequently compared my brain to a big rock tumbler, that simply tumbles and tumbles on the sharp projectiles my mind can't get past.  One of those things I've been tumbling has been why, within only hours of people posting digital tributes to Whitney Houston, there were people bad mouthing the people posting tributes to Whitney Houston.   Mostly it was reminders of other people's death who the complainer thought were somehow more important or noteworthy than a celebrity's or especially a celebrity who died because of drug abuse.  Sometimes it was one person, like one soldier, sometimes it was the whole Army or Navy.  
Really, explain the logic of that to me.  
Does the fact the person idolized Whitney Houston, who I must explain right now, of whom I WAS NOT a particular fan.  Yes, that's right, NOT, but just because the person loved Whitney Houston, how does their extra respect for someone they love in any way assume they have no respect for your mentioned dead?  What are you saying?  Each human only contains just enough empathy to grieve for or respect the death of a finite number of people?  Too much tribute to a celebrity wipes out respect for a thousand regular people?  Ten thousand?  
I say, "You want respect for your dead, give me respect for my dead."
Don't.  Don't say "they can't claim Whitney Houston for their dead."  
Yes, yes they can.  What you love is yours.  That little portion belongs to you and you grieve when it is lost.  
What is this society as parent mentality we have going on here?  Who are you to tell them who or what to love?   Isn't that what your parents would do?  Weren't you going to be different when you grew up?
I was thinking about vampires today.  I suppose given all the Twilight hoopla, it is sometimes unavoidable.  I see a "RUFKM?  He sparkles?" and my mind automatically clinks and clanks until I notice a good looking chunk of thought about the differences from the vampires of my childhood and my mother's childhood.  Maybe I had a lot of psychology classes in college (I did) or maybe it isn't that heavy of a lift on the psychological weight scale (probably not.)  It seems to me originally vampires were psychologically attractive to women because it was about "penetration" and since vampires could glamour their victims, it was sex without responsibility on the woman's part.  I didn't "want" to do it, he "made" me do it.  In a slower world with an uncertain boundary as to where a girl should turn off "good girl" or take responsibility for her own sexual desire or desperately bump and grind to keep her man, it was a fanciful way to have the lover of your dreams who did "whatever" you could dream up, but yet still claim "I would never have done that if he hadn't "made" me.  **insert finger in dimple** 
So your mother's vampire was a sort of "porn."  Team Jacob and Team Edward must mean the modern one is too.  But maybe that's the reason Edward sparkles, he isn't your mother's vampire.   Today's woman doesn't need to pretend to be a "good girl," we are much more sophisticated at realizing that woman also appreciate and are tempted by sex.  The interesting thing is, well, Edward and Dracula, lemme see, both have pointy fangs with which to bite you.  They both can glamour you, hmm maybe the lack of responsibility draw still applies.  I think they're both cold, Dracula does not appear in a mirror, I'm pretty sure Edward does.  He needs to, how else could he appreciate his sparkle?  Edward is hard, is he not?  Hard like he's made of granite?  I don't remember ever hearing that about Dracula.  
But there's one more difference, isn't there?  
Think a minute.  How about attitude?  Do Dracula and Edward have the same attitude?  Hell no.  Dracula wouldn't hesitate.  He's GOING to bite you.  Edward not only WOULDN'T bite you.  He'd drive you home and make you dinner.  
It is it me or does it suddenly seem like the emasculation of men by modern vampire?  
Hmm.  Are the females who love the Twilight series really fantasizing about something more on the road to being a dominatrix?  A little about the control and power of leashing a beast?  Makes me feel so so comfortable with my peers.  We were much more about stripping it off and joining the beast.  Don't tame him, jump on, hold on, and, apparently, plead ignorance later.  Honestly, other than whine that she wanted him to make her a vampire and that she eventually has his baby, I have no idea what Bella did with Edward.  Enough to get her pregnant, I guess.
Pregnant?  Your mother's vampire had something BETTER than a vasectomy.  Why would anybody want to have a baby with a vampire?
I just don't understand.  
Besides, if I had been on a team, it would have been Team Jacob.  You've got a boyfriend AND a pet.  There's no bad there.  Not to mention a provider of warmth and protection.  Edward Shmedward, I say.
Twilight has the same phenomenon going on as Whitney Houston.  We (and I'm part of this group) can't just let you have your different vampire, we have to mock your tastes and joke with memes about "still a better romance than Twilight."  
This internet just isn't big enough for your vampire AND my vampire.  
Truthfully, I can see an argument where men might instinctively hate Twilight since the goal seems to be, in the most PC of descriptions, to define what a man's manhood should be.  What's with the rest of us?  Why can't we just think they are idiots in private?  Why do we bond with other people who agree in a seemingly more active basis than the actual Twilight fans did in the first place?  Could it be seeing ourselves represented in what we assume is the majority, it feeds to our denial that the disagreement has anything to do with age.  
Maybe it was simply we were tired of hearing about Twilight.  Or maybe, like me, we read a book or two of Twilight and felt we had paid for a very different experience than the one we got.  When was the last time you got your money back from buying a book simply because you didn't like it.  
Yes yes, I'm being ridiculous.  Who would do that?  
Except books are essentially ideas.  
That book had bad ideas.  That book made me uncomfortable with its ideas.  
Little bit more than the $10 to $20 you thought I was complaining about, huh?  
An idea can change your perception of your world, of yourself, of your parents, your partner, your pets.  An idea can penetrate your subconsciousness and make you think.  So an idea can become a thought which can change you.  
Nobody embraces change.  It's scary and messy and unfamiliar.  Change is so uncomfortable to us that we often choose to stay with an already uncomfortable status quo rather than risk more discomfort for improvement.  
I don't understand that either.  
You could fill a bus station with all the things I don't understand.  
It's all the ideas.
My brain is riddled with them.   
I must not have been selective enough about what I chose to read.  

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Imagine a World Without Free Knowledge

Ask yourself, "What good is an opinion unchallenged?"

http://www.savetheinternet.com

Stop_Online_Piracy_Act

how-sopa-would-affect-you-faq/

Censorship is to art as lynching is to justice.  Henry Louis Gates
Assassination is the extreme form of censorship.  George Bernard Shaw
Censorship reflects a society's lack of confidence in itself.  Potter Stewart 
The first condition of progress is the removal of censorship.  George Bernard Shaw

Monday, January 9, 2012

Angela's Random Images

As Apple's MobileMe Gallery/iWeb option is going away, I have added a photography blog that will focus more exclusively on new things I am doing with photography.

Angela's Random Images

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Dear Friend I Last Saw More Than 20 Years Ago Who Has So Kindly Continued To Include Me As Part of Your Yearly Christmas Form Letter,

I hope this Christmas finds your vision 20/20 and your faculties sound.  It has been kind of you to include me among the family and friends you keep in touch with each Christmas.  I was surprised to look at your picture this year and find your hair has grayed and your children are both about the age we were when we first met.  To be honest, perhaps I would have noticed years ago, had I not been throwing your card, unread, into my recycling bin for the last five years.  I could claim I didn’t realize it was intended for me, as it is addressed to my married name and I reclaimed my maiden name nine years ago when I got a divorce.  At the time, I informed you of my update in name and circumstance in my handwritten note at the bottom of the my handmade card I sent to my Christmas card list.  
Over the next five years, I continued to receive mail for a woman I have never been - you actually are sending it to a woman with my ex-husband’s last name, which I never actually took.  When I was married, my name was my maiden name combined with my husband’s name, hyphenated.  Each year I tried to find a new and creative way to update your address list by highlighting my last name, writing it in bold, or surrounding it with arrows.  Finally I was forced to conclude that you weren’t reading my cards.  That is why I stopped sending them several years back.  
I’ve forgotten, did your husband work for the US Postal Service?  You seem to have a decided interest in keeping them busy at this time of year.  
It is only this year, filled with the spirit of “WTH it’s Christmas,” when I opened your card and saw your smiling, innocent faces that it occurred to me - perhaps these letters have been intended for my ex-husband and his new wife?  I’m sorry I never thought to forward their address to you.  How thoughtless of me.  But then, the included Hallmark card always has my name, just my name.  Hmmm it is a puzzle.  
I was glad to hear the year has been kind to you and you have been busy, that your son graduated at the top of his class and your daughter is getting married.  I’m glad your husband has remained in good health.  
Until next year, 
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

WARNING: MAY CONTAIN ADULT THOUGHTS OR LANGUAGE

Lately I've been talking a lot about curse words and insults.  Not actually using them, just talking about them.  Really, who out there who appreciates lovemaking and the sexual act, hasn't wondered why we insist on using the word "fu@k" in such an abusive way?  Why isn't "Fu@k You" the equivalent of "Have a Nice Day?"  The thought really come to a head when a friend told me his name translated as "douche bag" in The Urban Dictionary.  While one part of my mind was wondering why men insist on creating disagreeable insults based on a woman's vagina when such a large percentage of them would like nothing better than to be in a woman's vagina, the other part was thinking:  "douche:  something inserted into a woman's vagina that makes her feel good afterwards."  Hmmmm, really should that be that insulting?  Granted, it also brings to mind the notion that perhaps the lady in question's vagina needed a douching, which may be at the heart of the insult.

Really even the curse words that are about something unpleasant, like say "$hit" don't bring to mind the sheer intensity of discomfort as say "shart" would.  ("Shart" the equivalent of vurp, which is a burp with a bit of vomit.  A shart is a fart with a bit of $hit.)  $hit can be in many forms, dry, damp, smelly, in the toilet bowl, from a different species even.  But calling a person a shart instead of a piece of $hit, well you summon up the inconvenience, the embarrassment.  Now you have called someone something with grit.  Something that means something.

When thinking this way, embellishment is important.  Calling someone a booger or even a green booger, lacks the intensity of you "sinus infection nuclear green booger."  But then you run the risk of using too many words.  Insults or curse words that have a person walking away before you finish uttering them are absolutely useless, as would be having to repeat them because the recipient didn't hear the whole sentence.  The use of the words "wipe" or "smear" should be considered because, after all, wipe or smear in the context of bodily fluid or discharge is never a good thing.  Discharge itself is not a good thing and is a handy noun for your vocabulary.

So the next time you feel the need to really tell someone how you feel, may I propose some of the following:  (In most cases, the word "you" proceeding the phrase is assumed.)

premature ejaculation stain
pus leakage
oozing sore
shart
vurp
infected knob end (infected anything is good, oozing infected is better)
broken stringed tampon
tea toned jock strap

Well, I'm sure you get the idea.   Go out and creatively use some of your own.   And try to stop using the word "c*nt."  It disturbs women and .....  really do I have to remind you again?

The vagina is your friend.  Most of you out there either have one, want to have one, or want to be in one.

'nuff said.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

As If Underwater: No. 2

As If Underwater: No. 2: I sit in my parents’ living room. It’s hot and it’s stuffy. Anyone else in the room is asleep. My only company left is “Sherlock Holmes a...