Stuff I Know

Homes should be decorated with ancient maps, rock&roll inspires people to dress fashionably, chicken curry is the ultimate comfort food, androgynous people are capable of seducing anybody, our fear of the unknown can manifest itself in our fear of death, the Dalai Lama eats meat, the skeletal system is the most erotic part of the human body, dogs make the best therapists, imagination is a fundamental component of human sexuality, and reading is an affordable alternative to traveling.

Does anyone else have this problem?

I have a worrisome penchant for falling in love with literary characters. For example, I am convinced that Levin from Anna Karenina is my soulmate. Needless to say, this is quite frustrating.

Shuck this fit.

If life were graded, I would totally expect to fail. However, I would be upset if I didn't get an A for effort.

Danny Trejo: My Celebrity Crush

He tends to portray characters that are an irresistible combination of honorable and badass. Also, it's pretty sick that he is an ex-con who managed to turn his life around.

I just realized that the Pixies are easily my favorite band. I am literally always in the mood to hear anything by them, and I inevitably feel much better about life in general after doing so. It's crazy how every time I listen to one of their songs, my ears prick up and are all like "Whoa, what was that noise?! And what did that lyric mean? We [Ramona's ears] have never felt this way before...it'...s as if some part of us that was hidden so deep within our canals we never even knew it existed has been awoken from its apathy-induced slumber. Oh my, it feels as though this irresistable melody has caused our drums to explode, blasting away all that icky wax that had built up inside of us--and boy, does it feel good! What IS this magical noise?? Must. Hear. More!"

 

Here is one of my favorite Pixie songs:

Hangovers: Too Many Beers vs. Too Many Tears

I recently discovered that a broken heart can lead to an unbelievably nasty hangover. Have you ever cried yourself to sleep so hard that you woke up feeling dizzy and nauseous with a relentlessly pounding headache? The only difference being, this type of hangover is impervious to the normally-effective coffee&painkiller remedy.

It is a bizarre feeling when one is no longer able to distinguish between one's dreams and one's waking life, as both possess an unmistakeably-nightmarish sense of déjà vu. At the risk of being labeled as a self-important ass who feels inexplicably compelled to blog about every pointless detail of my dreams, I will attempt to describe one of the several nightmares I had last night, hopefully making it seem less real in the process.

My teeth begin to rot and crumble, exposing their soft, black cores as they fall out one by one. I easily pull the last few out from my infected gums; they are already so loose, it does not even hurt. Frightened, I tell my parents, and they take me to the hospital, where they take samples from my mouth and perform countless tests. The doctors tell me that I have a life-threatening disease and that they must operate immediately. I am hooked up to fluid-pumping tubes that cover my entire body; there is even one attached to each of my toes. The doctors force me to inhale a gas with a sickeningly-sweet chemical smell. I feel myself slipping into a hazy, dreamlike state, and yet the pain is very real as they begin to slice open my grotesquely flapping gums with their scalpels, removing all the remaining shards of tooth. There is red everywhere. I regain consciousness (or maybe I actually wake up from my dream--it is hard to say), only to have the breath knocked out of me by an overwhelming sense of loss and abandonment. I scream for help, and the doctors tell me that the operation was a failure and that I am dying from loss of blood. I turn to look at the hospital bed next to mine and see my cat Reggie and my parent's dog Parker lying there, their tiny bodies also covered in tubes. They tell me they have caught my disease. Sobbing uncontrollably, I realize that they, too, have been abandoned.

Just a thought, but...

Does being self-destructive go hand-in-hand with having a self-deprecating sense of humor? I hate to make sweeping generalizations based solely on personal experience, but it's hard not to when something makes such logical sense to me! Any thoughts?

This basically sums up my current mindset--pathetic, I know...

I cannot believe I used to hate on lonely "cat ladies." Maybe I subconsciously feared/resented them because part of me somehow knew I was eventually going to become one. I'll have to ask Reggie (my kitty) what he thinks about this theory...

La Roux - Quicksand

Secretary - "A girl like you" by Edwyn Collins

Kanye West - Monster [Official Video HD]

The Toadies - Possum Kingdom

Tyler The Creator - Yonkers

The Crazy Nastyass Honey Badger (original narration by Randall)

Redefining Racism

The following is a class discussion post about whether or not I am able to relate to one of the articles I've been assigned to read. This is a subject matter about which I am extremely passionate and opinionated.

In the article “Believing is Seeing?” Judith Lorber states that, “Neither sex nor gender are pure categories.”  Why then do we as a society insist on separating every individual into the distinct categories of “male” and “female?”

Perhaps this relates to our inherent tendency as human beings to label, categorize, and fully understand everything and everyone around us.  In doing so, however, we run the risk of imposing a gender on an individual (a female athlete with masculine characteristics, for example) which they do not personally identify with.  In addition, this suggests that gender differences go beyond the physical and extend to one’s intellectual capacities, such as the ability to understand technological innovations. 

In the article “Defining Racism: ‘Can We Talk?’”, Beverly Daniel Tatum attests that, “racism cannot be fully explained as an expression of prejudice alone,” offering this new definition for racism: “a system of advantage based on race.”  She goes on to explain that "racism, like other forms of oppression, is not only a personal ideology based on racial prejudice, but a system involving cultural messages and institutional policies and practices as well as the beliefs and actions of individuals." (i.e. "white privilege")

The author then addresses several problematic questions relating to this somewhat controversial definition for racism, including the issue of whether minority individuals in our society are capable of being racist: “If one defines racism as a system of advantage based on race, the answer is no. People of color are not racist because they do not systematically benefit from racism. ”  (She adds that, "using the same logic, I reserve the word sexist for men. Though women can and do have gender-based prejudices, only men systematically benefit from sexism.")

Tatum then uses what I feel is a brilliantly simple example to answer the question of whether she is saying that all non-minority individuals in our society are racist by comparing the ongoing cycle of racism to a moving walkway at the airport.

Finally, the author points outs that the “task of interrupting racism is obviously not the task of [white individuals] alone.  But the fact of white privilege means that [white individuals] have greater access to the societal institutions in need of transformation.  To whom much is given, much is required.”
This article challenged my complacency toward the fact that I'm living in a society with deeply-ingrained cultural/institutional systems that are defined by racist attitudes.  In addition, it led me to ask myself the question “Why have my peers and I been exposed to such a limited definition of the word racism when the term clearly encompasses more than just the concept of racial prejudice?”

In order for racism to be challenged in our society, it must be defined within the context of our society—that is, as a “system of advantage based on race.”  I believe that because we are living in a white heterosexual patriarchal society, our understanding of the term racism has been systematically, culturally, and institutionally limited to a definition which enables the racist attitudes that dominate our society and allows for their perpetuation.  By limiting our understanding of racism to racial prejudice only, white individuals are able to dismiss this problem as having little or nothing to do with them.  The mainstream definition for racism makes it dangerously easy to have an attitude of “Sure, racism is bad, but because I do not view myself as being racially prejudiced, it really isn’t my problem.”  In other words, such an understanding of the term results in a lack of personal responsibility on the part of white individuals.  For this reason, we as a society must embrace Tatum’s more complete, albeit controversial, definition for racism in order to order to cut off the cultural, institutional air supply of the self-perpetuating monster that is racism.

The Following Ramblings are What Happens When I Attempt to be Introspective

I feel the need to post something, so I've decided to share this brief examination of the darker aspects of my psyche. This is actually a note that I posted on Facebook a year ago that generated a lot of (mostly negative) comments haha. Now that I have been introduced to the Eastern mindset through my class that explores Asian religions, however, I am aware that the notion of the duality of human nature and of nature in general is an illusion, a human attempt to understand everything from an all-or-nothing perspective.

I have come to the conclusion that I must be a closet goth.  This is because I am in favor of exploring and embracing the dark side of human nature, and I find comfort in a subjective reality.  I do not believe the answer is black and white, just as I believe it is wrong to let societal standards dictate one’s morality.  I like the idea of moral ambiguity, for the simple reason that we are all individuals.  While it is only human to desire a “one-size-fits-all” moral code, I realize that it will not always be this simple.  Maybe our inherent fear of the unknown is to blame for our unwillingness to acknowledge that the answer lies within the grey areas.  Perhaps we have been led astray by our human instinct to label and categorize all that we perceive, to understand everything in objective terms.  As lazy as I am and as much as I would love for life to be an “easy A,” I know that the only truths worth knowing are the ones that can be found lurking among the shadows.  For aren’t we as humans each our own individual shade of grey?
I find solace among the shadows because they remind me that I am an individual.  To me, that which our society has written off as morbid or macabre is the mirror that asserts my humanity, and I know in my gut that it is good to be human.  I believe that there is a dark side to every fairy tale and that to deny this side of the story is to deny ourselves.  My bones vibrate in response to this acknowledgment of my darker self, humming a melody that I can call my own and that will eventually soothe me to sleep.  I suppose the darkness I refer to is a metaphor, a tool that allows me to come to terms with the fact that I will never reach a state of complete understanding in my current form of being, and that is okay.  The darkness I speak of is the pool of water in which I see the reflection of my true self, just as I see things through a lens which reflects the world back to me, creating my personal reality. 
Perhaps a more socially-acceptable way to express this idea can be summed up in the phrase “it’s all relative,” by which I mean we can only experience pain, pleasure, fear, hope, and love as these emotional states relate to what we already believe as a result of past experiences.  In other words, one person’s pain may very well be another’s pleasure.  I cannot help that I perceive sunlight as something sinister; it is simply a matter of personal preference.  This does not, however, mean that I am not responsible for my moral decisions.  Rather, I must strive to use the tools I have to reach truths about my own little world and then, by examining the implications of these minor truths, come to greater realizations about the human condition.
I have discovered that it is only by embracing all that is surreal and seeking refuge in my imagination that I am able to achieve a state of mental peace.  I have given up trying to answer the questions “Where does one draw the line between reason and insanity?” or “Is not mental stability a quality which falls along a spectrum?” or “What is it exactly that separates me from a person I view as being crazy?”  By accepting that it is futile to attempt to make sense of it all, I am finally free to be myself—a closet goth.  But that’s just me :)

"It is said that in the heart of the darker fairy tales out there we can find shadows of ourselves, and that by embracing these shadows we become closer to being whole."

Burning My Socially-Inflicted Bra

Hmm one post and zero followers...it seems as though I am not off to a great start with my blog. Truth is, I've had an extremely dramatic and stressful past week, which I'm not quite ready to talk about. It also doesn't help that I've been crazy busy studying (I've decided to be a model student go balls to the walls with my school work this semester.), and I just got a new job working at my university's cafeteria. Therefore, I have decided to kill two birds with one stone by posting compositions for school that are relevant to my worldview.

The following is a rough draft of a reflection paper for my Gender&Women's Studies class on how I can personally relate to one of the articles about feminism that we've read. I realize that parts of it are probably incoherent since I repeatedly go off on tangents, but I'm more concerned about sharing my perspective on feminism than the overall structure of my paper.

          In the article “Feminist Politics,” bell hooks offers a definition for a type of feminism that I view as a personal call to action.  Defining feminism as a “movement to end sexism, sexist exploitation, and oppression,” hooks sets out to put the politics back into feminist ideology (1).  I believe that without a political agenda, feminism as a movement loses much of its social relevance.  Most of the women with whom I have discussed feminism attest that, because no woman is the same in terms of beliefs, values, or past experiences, for every woman there should be a different definition for feminism that aligns with her individual worldview.  While I understand the  logic behind this point of view and realize that the multitude of perspectives on the female experience are to be valued and learned from, I do not agree that because feminism is whatever one makes it to be, anyone can be a feminist.  This idea puts the very existence of feminism in jeopardy because, as with all movements, feminism needs a unifying common goal in order to remain socially relevant. 

            I am not, however, calling for a “one-size-fits-all” kind of feminism.  In fact, I believe that many women hesitate to call themselves feminists because the movement has become overly standardized to the point where sexism in our society is viewed mainly through the lens of white middle class privilege.  Feminism, for the most part, is lacking a global perspective, which is why there needs to be more focus on the political aspect of the movement.  As hooks states, “most people think that feminism is always and only about women seeking to be equal to men…their misunderstanding of feminist politics reflects the reality that most folks learn about their feminism from patriarchal mass media” (1).  I agree that working for gender equality is not enough, and this misconception about the goal of feminism is why, until reading this article, I have always been hesitant to call myself a feminist.

 I cannot bring myself to support a feminism that consists mainly of privileged white women striving for equal pay and opportunity in the work place with the goal of achieving upward class mobility.  How are the countless minority women and women born into poverty supposed to relate to such a privileged interpretation of feminism?  While I agree that woman should receive equal pay as men, I do not view the struggle of these women as being a priority when taken in the context of the society in which we live.  For this reason, I appreciate how hooks defines feminism as a movement not just to end sexism, but to eliminate societal oppression. 

We are living in a patriarchal society rampant with sexist and racist attitudes that are so deeply engrained into our cultural psyche that many fail to even notice their own white middle class privilege.  In order to challenge social injustice, one must first be able to acknowledge the advantages one has within the system.  Because we are living in a society that is inherently flawed, it is not enough to simply work for gender equality within the existing system.  Rather, we must engage in a more political type of feminism, which calls for a total system overhaul before we can begin to build a new system based on feminist ideals.  I do not want to be equal to men; I want to live in a true meritocracy where everyone has equal access to the systems and institutions that make up our society and thus equal opportunity for success.

For as long as I have been aware of the sexism, racism, and class division that is so prevalent in our society, I have been unsatisfied with the system.  In fact, this dissatisfaction with the society in which I live had become a sort of catalyst for my mood disorder –as my anger toward society grew, so did my frustration with myself for being too apathetic to do anything about it.  In addition, I was becoming increasingly aware of the privileges I receive as a white member of the middle class, the realization of which served to further lower my self-esteem.  I felt trapped: it was impossible to remain oblivious to social injustice, and I felt myself descending into a downward spiral of shame and self-loathing as I began to mentally project that which I hated about my society onto myself as an individual.  It was as if our patriarchal society was a mirror in which I saw myself reflected and distorted, and I could barely bring myself to look at the selfish, ignorant, hypocritical young woman I saw. 

I now realize, however, that it is not my fault that I am at an advantage within the system, but it is my responsibility to challenge my privileged status and work to raise awareness of social injustice.  While reading “Feminist Politics,” I was surprised to discover that “from its earliest inception feminist movement was polarized” and that early feminism can be divided into the two major factions of reformist feminists, who chose to focus on gender equality, and revolutionary feminists, whose goal was to eliminate sexism and patriarchy by transforming the system (hooks, 4).  “Revolutionary feminism,” I thought to myself.  “Finally, a type of feminism I can get behind.”  Because of this article, I no longer avoid expressing ideas that might result in people calling me a feminist; rather, I embrace the label and am becoming increasingly vocal about exactly what kind of feminist I consider myself to be. 

In addition to struggling with my privileged status in society, I have also had issues with self-image that stem from my identity as a woman living in a patriarchal society.  It is not enough to become opinionated when I observe the rights of others being compromised; in order to call myself a feminist, I need to look inward as well.  For all my talk of women’s rights, I have been a male-pleaser for as long as I can remember.  While it is not easy for a woman who struggles with low self-esteem and depression to maintain a positive self-image amidst an environment where one is constantly, relentlessly bombarded with messages about the importance of being the “perfect” woman, it is my responsibility as a feminist to challenge these messages on a personal level. 

Now that women in our society are slowly but surely reaching our goal of equal pay and treatment in the work place, it is as if we have a whole new role to fill in society: be a strong, independent woman with a successful career, an attentive wife, a loving mother, and look sexy while doing it.  Surely I am not alone when I say that such unattainable standards, for which the media is largely responsible, have had an extremely detrimental effect on my self-image and the way in which I orient myself within society.  Therefore, it is not just an outward struggle to promote the rights of underprivileged groups, but an inward battle where I am called to fight the sexist messages that have come to shape my everyday behavior, from when I risk being late for work to apply an extra coat of mascara to when I skip dessert in hopes of looking more like the scarily-slender girl at the table next to mine.

Ultimately, I advocate a political sort of feminism where one takes into account one’s personal experiences with sexism, racism, or class division and uses them to broaden one’s understanding of the female experience in a patriarchal society.  The article “Feminist Politics” challenged my complacency toward social injustice as well as my own impressionable tendencies that have resulted in identity crisis and a poor self-image.  But how exactly do I live according to revolutionary feminist principles?  I believe that once I begin to promote feminism as a “movement to end sexism, sexist exploitation, and oppression,” I will finally feel as though I am doing my part to challenge the cultural and institutional oppression  that is so prevalent in my society.  Thus, my self-esteem will rise accordingly because I will no longer be stuck in a pattern of self-indulgent apathy where I passively support the sexist, racist attitudes that are in direct conflict with my values.  In addition, I will be able to point to my accomplishments in promoting a revolutionary feminist agenda whenever I feel overwhelmed by the sexist message in society that tell me I will never be good enough. 

I have recently decided to start blogging in an effort to raise awareness of the feminist movement from a revolutionary standpoint.  Before reading hooks’ article, I would have been far too concerned about potentially-negative feedback or ensuing conflict with my peers that could result from putting such ideas out there for everyone to see.  However, I think hooks and other early feminists would agree that in order to instill change, one must be a great deal more controversial than one would normally be willing to be.  Blogging about all my new theories and ideas may be a small step when taken in the context of the revolutionary feminist movement, but I believe it is a step in the right direction.

Ok, here goes nothing...

I suppose I should start out by attempting to explain my decision to create a blog.  I say "attempt" because I am, in fact, not at all sure why this seemed like such a good idea at 6am when I unable to fall back to sleep due to the all-too-familiar experience of having my brain bombarded with racing thoughts.  Nonetheless, I will do my best to explain my sleep-deprived logic.  It went something like this:

I have a lot of ideas.  I do not believe I am wrong to assume that many others have this problem—problem in the sense that while I would like to have a creative outlet with which to organize and express these ideas, I am far too apathetic to motivate myself to do so.  And is that not why many others choose to blog?  (Admittedly, however, I am completely clueless when it comes to blogging etiquette.  As in, I am not even sure what exactly a blog is.  I have come to terms with the fact that I don’t get technology, especially as it relates to mass communication.  So, my decision to blog may very well be based on a big, fat misconception.)  With this reasoning, I have reached the conclusion that my decision to create a blog is merely based on the desire to provide for myself a harmless outlet for self-expression. 

I have also, however, decided to strive for honesty in everything I write, simply because I have a gut feeling that doing so will be good for me.  Which leads me to question whether I am being honest with myself when I claim that is all there is to it.  Why not, for example, just start journaling?  Well, this is something I have told myself I was going to do time and time again, but for some reason I just couldn’t bring myself to begin recording my ideas in a journal format.  I have now come to the uncomfortable realization that the reason for this is my overwhelming desire for validation from others.  Don’t get me wrong—I don’t expect anyone but my parents to read what I have to say.  It’s just a matter of needing to know that I’m putting my ideas out there for everyone to see and judge in order for my self-expression to seem worthwhile.  In other words, it is the public aspect of blogging that appeals to me.  So, I suppose there is an element of ego at play.

Is every blog supposed to have a theme?  I suppose my theme, if any, will be one of randomness and free association on whatever idea is first and foremost in my mind at a given point in time.  The majority of these ideas, I should add, will be inspired by other, probably better ideas I have been exposed to while reading, traveling, studying, watching films, silently observing, chatting with family and friends, interacting with complete strangers, watching trash TV, etc.  Because after all, what are human beings but self-conscious sponges that absorb all kinds of information and regurgitate it in new and sometimes interesting patterns?  I do, however, like to consider myself a relatively eccentric, dreamy sort of sponge with an overly-active imagination, and if some of my ideas come off as pure whimsy, that’s probably because they are.

I am not sure how frequently I will blog.  I may even decide that this was no more than a silly exercise in self-indulgence and stop blogging altogether.  But for now, welcome to “I Take My Coffee with a Grain of Salt.”  If you are reading this, I at least hope that you will be amused by my flights of fancy…