Scarlett Letters

When three out of five of your first LJ posts for the year are cranky posts, you realize that you're getting old and cranky. But, damn it, I've earned it. Here are the things I'm cranky about today.

My niece's cousin is on Facebook. She's 17, entering college early, so she's got brains. She seems to think I'm cool. But over the last two days, she's posted two memes so irretrievably offensive, so intrinsically misogynistic that I had to challenge her. I've actually been challenging her misogyny since the first time I encountered it. That time, she called another girl a cunt. I told her I'd never refer to another woman that way, no matter how much I disliked her. Yesterday, she posted a meme saying that women who falsely accuse men of rape should be jailed. I asked her how she'd ever prove it, and then reminded her that men have been accusing women of lying about rape for centuries and that maybe she shouldn't be so quick to judge. Today, she posted a meme--pictures of Bill Clinton with big-breasted women--that said, "Bill Clinton always chooses other women over Hillary. Shouldn't you?" I asked her what exactly the meme was trying to say, what she was trying to say--that Hillary Clinton isn't sexy enough to be president? Then I observed that if she was going to challenge a candidate, she should challenge them on the basis of their policies and philosophies and that she does women no favors by objectifying them this way.

It makes me crazy that she posts this crap so unthinkingly. I know that she's 17. I also know that she finished high school early and that her grades have been excellent. She's no intellectual slouch. But she hasn't been taught to think critically or to engage the culture in a substantive way. I'll be damned if anyone even remotely related to me doesn't give more thought to the stuff they post. I'm not perfect, but if I can help her avoid some of the thoughtlessness I've engaged in over the years, I'm sure as hell going to do it. She may not like me for it, but . . . tough. :: grumble ::

If I could say anything to her, I think the most important thing I could do is quote Marmie from "Little Women":

"If you feel your value lies in being merely decorative, I fear that someday you might find yourself believing that’s all that you really are. Time erodes all such beauty, but what it cannot diminish is the wonderful workings of your mind: Your humor, your kindness, and your moral courage."

Give her something to really think about.

A writer acquaintance of mine posted a video from Ben Carson about how he was going to make America great again, that we didn't need another politician in the White House. In response, I posted three quotes from Carson: the one about the pyramids, the one about how the framers of the Constitution had no political experience (they did) and the one about how if the people had been armed, Hitler wouldn't have reached power. I then asked if this was really the man she wanted in the presidency.

Apparently, I've started the day as a culture warrior. If this is what I'm like at 7 AM, the world better watch out today. I'm in fighting form.

I've been home four days now, and it's been a little bit of a rough landing. Work has been, as expected, busy and challenging, and not always in a good way. At home I can get nothing done without being harassed by Zeke. I haven't had a single day where I haven't been roused out of bed at an ungodly hour (this morning it was 4:30). Vacation is truly over.

I haven't had time or energy to focus on much of anything except the day job--which is making me crazy, as I have promises to keep. I look around and see that this place needs to be tidied and vacuumed; I'm really unhappy with my home space. My February car accident has come calling again in ways that have been unexpectedly emotional. I keep trying to carve out time to find a car and having other stuff intervene. And I haven't worked on the novel since I returned from the east.

The weather has gone decidedly autumnal, which means cool and damp. This is what I'm commuting in. And I've had no real time to acknowledge or consider the Jewish new year, much less actually attend services. (Can I just say that the business of charging for High Holiday tickets--and it is a business--seems more pernicious to me every year?)

Yes, I'm a pretty disgruntled scarlettina right now.

There's been a lot of discussion lately about tears and Rep. John Boehner and expression of emotion in public, and I want to talk about this, but I'm going to save it for its own post. I have a lot to say.

I have been having stomach pain on and off for quite a while now. Several months. I'm having the first annual check up I've had in several in years in just a couple of weeks (mainly due to a lack of insurance until just recently). I need to have it investigated because it's uncomfortable and painful.

It's dark and it's wet outside. The sun will set soon. I hate these short days.

I cleaned out my medicine cabinet yesterday. First time in quite a while. Threw out old stuff. Washed the shelves. When I opened it this morning, I didn't recognize it. It was nice. I'm doing some other cleaning today. Hope it becomes as nice a surprise tomorrow as the medicine cabinet was this morning.

My posts for 2011 have so far not been very substantive nor very cheerful. Cheer and substance will return soon. I think the weather's just made me crabby.

My hand has been in a brace for about half a week now. I've come to think of the padded, molded plastic brace wrapped with an Ace-style bandage as looking a little like a burkah for the hand.

The brace keeps the palm and wrist immobile, and my fingers curled into a sort of hook, a sort of useless hook. I'm allowed to take it off to sleep, but mostly, it stays there, strapped to me, making me feel as though I have a club at the end of my left arm. These are the things I have learned so far living life one-handed.

Dishes are heavy and washing them requires more dexterity than I would have thought. I will not be using my stoneware until the hand is healed again. It's paper plates and plastic utensils for me for the next month.

I can type fairly well with one hand. I can type faster with one hand and a thumb.

Jeans are hard to hoist on with only one hand. Actually, most clothes are.

I can still lift Sophie with one arm. Spanky, not so much. (This comes, I suspect, as a surprise to no one.)

My car windows are not automatic. If I want to open the driver's side window, I have to do it before I hit the road, and I'm stuck with an open window rain or shine until I reach my destination.

I dislike driving one-handed. Quite a bit. Sadly there's a point beyond which I don't have a choice. Watch for me seeking carpool opportunities whenever I can find them.

I can't order more than one item at Starbuck's (or any coffee/tea place). Only one hand to carry it with.

Reading is challenging, too. Being unable to switch hands makes for a tired right hand after a while.

And so on. I'm in this thing until, earliest, June 5. Impatience will probably set in around this Monday morning. No, no, I lie. It's already here.

::deep breath::

I can't change the situation; I must, therefore, change my attitude. Someone get me some chocolate--STAT!

Everyone I know is going somewhere cool over the next two weeks: WorldCon, ANA, GenCon. I am jealous as hell.

I splurged all of $20 to attend the Pacific Northwest Mouse Meet, a Disneyana show in Lynnwood the weekend of the 15th--a day trip--an hour of driving roundtrip, no hotel costs. While I expect it to be fun it won't be the same, I assure you.

I want to go to Japan with jackwilliambell so badly I can taste it, but the math says I shouldn't spend the money. Tomorrow morning, I'm going to look at the numbers one more time. Maybe if I examine them with a fever, they'll look different.

I've got the wanderlust bad. It always happens when I can least afford it. But it's been two years since my last big trip and the world is calling, one way or another.

::sigh::