It kind of seems like #MeToo has died down some on social media, but I'm still trying to wade through my thoughts and experiences. I feel we still need to learn more, teach more, and make changes. Black dresses, white roses, pink pussy ear hats all need to mean something.
That brings me to something I saw the other day that got me thinking. It's kind of along the lines of how I feel about presidential minor children being off limits for ridicule. A meme showed up that had Sarah Huckabee Sanders and, yes, I don't agree with her politics, but this wasn't mocking them. Have I thought her to be unattractive? Yes. Have I had the same thoughts about Kellyanne Conway? Yes. Am I proud to admit that I've made those thoughts public? No. Have I made jokes about 45's appearance? Yes....but to be honest, his orange skin and bizarre hair isn't natural, it's a choice....that's probably an excuse to justify myself.
Anyway, if the black dresses, white roses, and pink pussy ear hats are to mean anything; if they are meant to be about the empowerment of woman; if they are meant to support victims of various abuses, shouldn't we do better than memes about other women's appearances? We can support one another as women on these things, even when we differ in our politics.
I am sure I will need to check myself and I will most certainly wreck myself, but we should all try.
Sunday, February 4, 2018
Thursday, February 1, 2018
What's in a name?
So, Shawn and I started watching The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. The main character, Mrs. Maisel (obvi), is named Miriam, but goes by "Midge". This got me thinking about a neighbor when I was a kid. This old man a few doors down called me "Midge" for some reason.
I started to think about all of the nicknames I have accrued through the years. It all started with "Meg". l didn't know my actual name was "Margaret" until I started school. Of course attendance was taken and I was like, "Watchu talkin' 'bout, teacher?" Of course, it sucked because I had to learn how to write an 8 letter word instead of a 3 letter one.
So, as far as I can recall, here's the roll. This assumes the obvious names of "Bitch", "Asshole", and the like.
I started to think about all of the nicknames I have accrued through the years. It all started with "Meg". l didn't know my actual name was "Margaret" until I started school. Of course attendance was taken and I was like, "Watchu talkin' 'bout, teacher?" Of course, it sucked because I had to learn how to write an 8 letter word instead of a 3 letter one.
So, as far as I can recall, here's the roll. This assumes the obvious names of "Bitch", "Asshole", and the like.
- Meg
- Margar
- Peggy Sue
- Megger
- Megala
- Meggles
- Midge
- Megaroni
- Meggo
- Megra
- Mag
- Moony
- Babe
- Mommy (for Jarvis)
I think there are more, but I don't know.
Sunday, January 28, 2018
I want to know what love is
I thought I had identified all of my triggers regarding my infertility. I also thought that I had gotten better about letting them get me down.
When in stores like Target, I don't walk around the entire store to avoid the baby section. At the grocery store, I can handle seeing diapers and baby food. I can look at pregnancy and newborn photo shoots on Facebook and not completely lose my shit. This isn't at all to say that pain doesn't exist.
Recently, I discovered a new pain. It's something I've seen phrased in different ways by different people. It's when women describe giving birth and the first moment of seeing and holding the newborn. The moment seems to always be described as finding real love for the first time. Sometimes it's saying that they thought they new love before but not really until now. They never thought they could love someone so completely.
So, the love I share with Shawn didn't result in a baby and all of this makes it seem that I'm experiencing some lesser form of love.
When in stores like Target, I don't walk around the entire store to avoid the baby section. At the grocery store, I can handle seeing diapers and baby food. I can look at pregnancy and newborn photo shoots on Facebook and not completely lose my shit. This isn't at all to say that pain doesn't exist.
Recently, I discovered a new pain. It's something I've seen phrased in different ways by different people. It's when women describe giving birth and the first moment of seeing and holding the newborn. The moment seems to always be described as finding real love for the first time. Sometimes it's saying that they thought they new love before but not really until now. They never thought they could love someone so completely.
So, the love I share with Shawn didn't result in a baby and all of this makes it seem that I'm experiencing some lesser form of love.
Tuesday, January 16, 2018
You get a vote! And, you get a vote! Everybody gets a vote!
About a week and a half ago now, I guess, The Golden Globes were on. Oprah was honored with the Cecil B. Demille for "outstanding contributions to the world of entertainment". I am not here to dispute her merits. She has had an incredible life and has done some pretty amazing things. Her acceptance speech was both inspiring and on point when it comes to the current climate of empowering women in an industry which is proving more and more to mistreat women sexually and financially.
With all that being said, I move on to the outpouring of "Oprah for President" and "Oprah 2020" sentiments. Let's think about this. The current White House resident can sound dumb as a box of rocks (my apologies to both boxes and rocks). He is not eloquent nor inspiring to those who want justice, equality, peace, and tolerance. Oprah does have 45 beat in this area for sure. I would never dispute this point.
But, a good speech does not make a president. Let's not start a trend of celebrity being the qualification for becoming commander-in-chief. Do we want to be a part of a cult of personality? Blowing someone up to heroic proportions; using ones celebrity status to rally the masses. This isn't to say that celebrities can never be a part of the world politic. But, jumping right to trying to be president doesn't sit well with me. Reagan eased his way in by being a spokesman for the Goldwater campaign, he was a part of many political committees, and he was elected Governor of California all before he made his presidential bid, which we all know he won.
So, how about "Oprah for Governor", "Oprah for Representative", "Oprah for Senator", heck, maybe even "Oprah for City Council", just to get started?
With all that being said, I move on to the outpouring of "Oprah for President" and "Oprah 2020" sentiments. Let's think about this. The current White House resident can sound dumb as a box of rocks (my apologies to both boxes and rocks). He is not eloquent nor inspiring to those who want justice, equality, peace, and tolerance. Oprah does have 45 beat in this area for sure. I would never dispute this point.
But, a good speech does not make a president. Let's not start a trend of celebrity being the qualification for becoming commander-in-chief. Do we want to be a part of a cult of personality? Blowing someone up to heroic proportions; using ones celebrity status to rally the masses. This isn't to say that celebrities can never be a part of the world politic. But, jumping right to trying to be president doesn't sit well with me. Reagan eased his way in by being a spokesman for the Goldwater campaign, he was a part of many political committees, and he was elected Governor of California all before he made his presidential bid, which we all know he won.
So, how about "Oprah for Governor", "Oprah for Representative", "Oprah for Senator", heck, maybe even "Oprah for City Council", just to get started?
Saturday, December 23, 2017
Remembering what took my memory away
It’s been on year since you hooked up me
Shocked my head on each side
And made me fuzzy
Twelve months since you shocked up me saying
Get some rest and come back and see me
Twelve months since the waiting room
I realized it was worth a try, and I told you
Last year you signed off on me
But it’s still in my head, “Was I really ready?”
*With apologies to the Barenaked Ladies
Shocked my head on each side
And made me fuzzy
Twelve months since you shocked up me saying
Get some rest and come back and see me
Twelve months since the waiting room
I realized it was worth a try, and I told you
Last year you signed off on me
But it’s still in my head, “Was I really ready?”
*With apologies to the Barenaked Ladies
Thursday, December 21, 2017
I’m no ballet dancer
I was just thinking that I am most certainly not growing old gracefully. It’s not because botoxing and facelifting the hell out of myself to stop time. There’s nothing graceful about my aging because I’m doing it with bumps and bruises; with surgery scars and accident scars; with the scars of mental illness; with the severe memory loss from ECT; with bottles and bottles of medication, mostly for mental health, but also physical; with sleep that is so ridiculously irregular; and, all kinds of bullshit. I’m growing old, not gracefully, but taking it all is it comes with all life’s trips and falls.
Tuesday, December 19, 2017
Greeting Cards Have All Been Sent
As I typed that title, Karen Carpenter was singing in my head. Just a little FYI to get us started.
A couple nights ago Shawn and I finally wrapped up things with this year's card. Shawn finished the editing of our photo. We picked out a design from Walgreens.com to go with the photo and ordered a bunch. The order was picked up; address labels and return address labels were printed; and, stamps were at the ready.
My process was stuff envelope, lick the envelope to seal it closed, and stick on address label. Then Shawn did the sticking on of the return address label. Finally, I added the stamps. This was done for a little over 70 cards. I found it exhausting....then, I thought about my dad.
My dad is kind of a greeting card legend. His Christmas card and Christmas letter game raises his legend status to whatever is above legend. And, thinking about his legendary status made me feel somewhat ashamed of my annoyance at my own process.
My whole life, except a couple recent years, there has been a Christmas letter. The letter has a pattern. It goes through the year focusing on the events beyond the everyday life. Each of us 5 kids would have our own paragraph (talk about a reason for sibling rivalry, you want your paragraph better than everyone else's). Then it was wrapped up with a memorial section for those who died over the last year, think the "In Memoriam" segment of The Oscars. But, he writes the name, age, connection to him/us, and cause of death. For some we know, like my BFFs, it was a sign of great pride to make the letter.
The letter is an accomplishment on it's own (always multiple pages), but the letter isn't what made me feel guilty. My dad sends out at least 200 cards. He was doing this in the age before self-adhesive stamps. He would send the letter in an average sized greeting card which required multiple folds to fit inside. The greeting card itself was signed by hand. The envelope was hand addressed. The envelope was stuffed and licked to seal. Each stamp was licked. A tester was taken to the post office to check if extra postage was going to be needed and often it was.
As time has moved on, as it does so quickly, things have changed. He has self-adhesive return address labels. He has started using business envelopes so the letter fits easily, but he has included a card still, just a small sized one that also fits in the envelope. The stamps don't need to be licked. He still hand signs the card and addresses the envelope by hand. He tries to keep from needing extra postage.
Through the years my view of the letter involved some eye-rolling and some mockery. Now, I'm embarrassed to admit those things. Things have changed. There have been a couple years without letters. The handwriting on the envelope is a little shaky. I'm not sure, but the list of recipients may have gone down. If I would have valued it more, the recycling bin wouldn't have the makings of a family history that I could have had.
A couple nights ago Shawn and I finally wrapped up things with this year's card. Shawn finished the editing of our photo. We picked out a design from Walgreens.com to go with the photo and ordered a bunch. The order was picked up; address labels and return address labels were printed; and, stamps were at the ready.
My process was stuff envelope, lick the envelope to seal it closed, and stick on address label. Then Shawn did the sticking on of the return address label. Finally, I added the stamps. This was done for a little over 70 cards. I found it exhausting....then, I thought about my dad.
My dad is kind of a greeting card legend. His Christmas card and Christmas letter game raises his legend status to whatever is above legend. And, thinking about his legendary status made me feel somewhat ashamed of my annoyance at my own process.
My whole life, except a couple recent years, there has been a Christmas letter. The letter has a pattern. It goes through the year focusing on the events beyond the everyday life. Each of us 5 kids would have our own paragraph (talk about a reason for sibling rivalry, you want your paragraph better than everyone else's). Then it was wrapped up with a memorial section for those who died over the last year, think the "In Memoriam" segment of The Oscars. But, he writes the name, age, connection to him/us, and cause of death. For some we know, like my BFFs, it was a sign of great pride to make the letter.
The letter is an accomplishment on it's own (always multiple pages), but the letter isn't what made me feel guilty. My dad sends out at least 200 cards. He was doing this in the age before self-adhesive stamps. He would send the letter in an average sized greeting card which required multiple folds to fit inside. The greeting card itself was signed by hand. The envelope was hand addressed. The envelope was stuffed and licked to seal. Each stamp was licked. A tester was taken to the post office to check if extra postage was going to be needed and often it was.
As time has moved on, as it does so quickly, things have changed. He has self-adhesive return address labels. He has started using business envelopes so the letter fits easily, but he has included a card still, just a small sized one that also fits in the envelope. The stamps don't need to be licked. He still hand signs the card and addresses the envelope by hand. He tries to keep from needing extra postage.
Through the years my view of the letter involved some eye-rolling and some mockery. Now, I'm embarrassed to admit those things. Things have changed. There have been a couple years without letters. The handwriting on the envelope is a little shaky. I'm not sure, but the list of recipients may have gone down. If I would have valued it more, the recycling bin wouldn't have the makings of a family history that I could have had.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)