Wednesday, October 31, 2012

New York: Statue of Liberty after Hurricane Sandy

I can have it any which way I ****ing want BECAUSE I’m a woman (a human being of the female variety like)

Ever since Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard did a verbal on opposition leader Tony Abbott in parliament, and chastised him for being misogynist, the debate about equality has been somewhat more heated than normal.

It’s the age old argument: Feminists are the female versions of bastards, women don’t know what they want (equality or chivalry) and we should all just shut up and get back into our boxes, women and men alike!

No. We shouldn’t get back into our boxes and we shouldn’t shut up. If we are to get anywhere with this one we need to speak honestly about how we feel about the whole gender issue.

I get that men are confused because us girlies seem to want to have doors opened for us and meals paid for on a first date while at the same time demanding equal pay and a lack of sexual harassment in the workplace.

I get that this is a complicated issue and that we’re battling with while being in a transition period. We are still transiting from being a lot more patriarchal to (hopefully) allowing ourselves to pass into a more gender equal society.

I get that women in the first world have come a long way and that compared to our third world sister we are a bunch lucky bitches. It doesn’t mean things can’t still improve.
Trust me; most of the sisterhood gets this and a hell of a lot more. It’s a no-brainer.

What we don’t get is blatant sexism and sexual harassment. It’s simply not useful and it has no place at all in society. It’s bloody stupid and it’s detrimental. It’s a stupid power game and that’s all it is.

Now here, I’m so sick of hearing this one: Why should I guy pay for the meal on a date? No, really. I hear you. But then why should I as the woman bother to cook for you, the man, when you come over to my place and bother to have a beer in the fridge for you even if I don’t drink that shit. Call it an investment, and investment you make as a personal gesture towards another human being showing your good will. Let’s call it that because that’s all it is. It’s like me buying a pal a sandwich or getting them a coffee.

I’m sick of the short sightedness. It’s really quite simple: I want to have the same opportunities as men in the workplace. I like when you hold the door open for me but I don’t expect it.

It’s really this simple: We should be friends first. We are not women and men in some sort of war of species; we are humans, we are part of a larger tribe and we need to work together. We can’t really get along without one another because Mother Nature made sure we have to interact to propagate the species.

But really, most of all I want to be allowed to exist as a human being while being a woman and not have to worry about what that means. If I want to fix my own broken stuff, have short fingernails sans nail polish, wear boots instead of high heels AND dye my hair pink, or not, then that’s what I want to do. If you expect me to be anything else I’ll probably get a little cranky just like most people do in a situation like that.

We need to move beyond the “gender war” and just get on with it. I bet you in New York today they’re not worrying about gender. It’s a relatively small issue as far as issues go.

Also, apparently I’m a sad read. Maybe. I think it would be more correct to say that I write more when I’m frustrated and since I suffer from depression that happens a lot. I also think too much, which means I sit here and wonder why the hell we bother putting up all these barriers to progress. The planet is having a few issues with how we are treating it and we sit here and argue about opening doors for people or not. Come on! Having said that I’m a person, I feel, I cry and I scream. A lot of the time I do that here. Hopefully not all the time and not at the same time.

I’m just saying.

Happy fucking Halloween!

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

"There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening...."

“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open… No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.”
Martha Graham

Sunday, October 28, 2012

"Leonardo, you think too much!" - if I didn't have to do chores....

The Merry posted this as a comment on my last post but I think it deserves a post of its own:

One afternoon, in sunny June
I happened to think, as I stood at the sink
And scrubbed away, at the dirty plates
And listened to music on my phonograph
I thought a question I've often asked....

Did Beethoven do the dishes?
Did Mozart sweep the floors?
Did all those great musicians have to do their chores?
I can't help but think of the songs I'd sing
If I just didn't have to clean the house
I know I'd be on top of the Billboard charts
If my cat had not just killed a mouse, and brought it into the house

I have these great ideas, but I also have a life
If I don't do the laundry, I'll soon run out of socks
I'll bet that Johann Sebastian Bach never had to worry about clean socks
I'll bet that Pjotr Tchaikovsky never took the garbage out
I'll bet that Verdi rarey helped rake the leaves
Even when his wife asked 'please-pretty please'

My driver's license did expire just two weeks ago
I'll bet that thought never occured to Michaelangelo
Madame Curie never had to serve on a jury
Joseph Hayden hid from taking care of the kids
Mozart was poor but you can be sure
He never had to baby-sit
And this is it, it's all she writ
Didn't have time for more of it

Friday, October 26, 2012

"Leonardo, you think too much!"

Today, because I'm off work but managed to somehow sleep through the best part of the day because I had an anxiety attack yesterday that lasted all day, I've been wondering if the people we think of as the great thinkers of this world ever got told by their parents that they think too much. I was and I'm not even a great thinker.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Rest

There are those of us who seem to be in constant search of something undefinable. These people seem restless and impatient to others. They can’t seem to settle down and always seem to be on their way to the next best thing even when they have found something that they claimed to be searching for. It’s like nothing is good enough for them, like they always need a new adventure or that they’re convinced that there’s something shinier and brighter somewhere else, just never where they are. They’re energetic, adventurous and fearless. They don’t attach themselves to anyone and it gives the impression that they don’t need anyone in their lives.

In truth these people know no peace. Sleep is not rest to them, it’s something they have to do that interrupts their search for something that will finally satisfy them and make them feel content. They’re like addicts in search for the next hit, and they know that they can’t abandon their search because if they do, the result is catastrophic.

They challenge boundaries. They scale mountains. They break new ground. They rub up against convention and they tear barriers down. They seem inexhaustible and their energy seems limitless. Most of all they seem to be completely fearless, even reckless, and sometimes we worry that they’ll end tearing down something that’s vital or valued by others, or if we care about them that they will end up hurting themselves sometimes to the point that their light will be snuffed out for good. There’s no stopping them. They know no peace.

What may seem like bravery and courage to others, or even fearlessness, is a need that is so strong that it can’t be turned off or even eased. There is nothing that will ease the pain these people feel or to soothe that feeling they have that they don’t belong, or that there is something else they should be doing. Others tell them to relax but they can’t. Something is tugging at their souls with such persistent force that even their dreams become part of the search. In the end they’d rather not sleep for fear of losing control.

When exhaustion comes, as it must, they end up wondering if the only way they will ever get to rest is death. They find no solace in the thought that there is an afterlife because all they long for is the silence of their own mind and the permanent rest that comes with no longer existing.

Sometimes I think I am one of those people.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Che Guevara - hamster style

Don’t ask me why, I really don’t know why, but for the longest time I’ve wanted to own a Che Guevara t-shirt.

My desire may have increased during but especially after my second marriage because husband #2 was, apart from being American (not that it’s bad to be American), republican (see it needed to be said that he was American or else the impact of the word “republican” would have been lessened enormously) and a profound hater of anything as unpatriotic as revolution or freedom fighting. Damned commies!

So recently, a few months after I was overcome with the need to dye my hair pink, I scoured the internet for a source and I found my Che Guevara t-shirt. It was grey (an unassuming color in itself) with Che printed on the chest. The pièce de résistance of the thing was that the makers of the t-shirt had taken the time to give Che a red star on his cap. It was completely irresistible. I got it.

Friday is kind of “casual Friday”, or “mufti” as they like to call it here in the land of Oz, in the office so one Friday I decided to wear “the Che” to work together with my gun steel gray Dr Martens. There’s nothing quite like being revolutionary on a Friday, I tell ya!

I was feeling pretty good about myself, and even a little bit controversial, but that only lasted until someone took one look at my chest, chuckled and said “Only a real woman can make Che Guevara look like a hamster”.

It took me a while, actually it took me going to the bathroom checking myself out in the mirror, to figure out what the hell this person was talking about. There, across my chest, was poor Che Guevara stretched in a way reminding me about how young Elvis stretched over time to become fat Elvis. It looked like I was wearing a t-shirt sporting a picture of Che Guevara and a hamster’s love child. I had my Che Guevara t-shirt but it wasn’t looking at all the way I had dreamed of.

I don’t have a picture of me in it but it looked something like this:

Crushed dreams.

I'm just saying.

Saturday, October 20, 2012

I need a blood transfusion

Exhaustion sometimes sets in and that's time you need hope but it's seldom a time when hope shows up willingly. Right now I'm flogging a dead horse and that horse is me.

I'm at the pinnacle of something but I have no idea what it is. I know, for certain, that my life is not what I would like it to be and that there are things holding me back, things that really shouldn't hold me back. More than anything I need to talk. I need to talk and not be misunderstood, judge, filtered or even taken for anything, or mistaken for anything. I'm just human.

I feel like it's a mess. It's one big mess. From the election in the US, to the politics in Australia, to the situation with my parents, my daughter's learning difficulties, my relationship with O, work and most of all what I want to be when I grow up. I feel like I could really use some direction but at the same time I'm so tied down by other people's expectations that I find it hard to breathe.

I need space.

I need someone to hold me tight and tell me it's OK.

I need to stop thinking for a while.

I need emptiness.

I need love.

I need some sort of girlfriend character to smack me around the head, open a bottle of wine and demand I pour my heart out to her.

I need to fall somewhere soft.

I need to move because I'm no longer depressed and anxious, I am held back.

I need to graffiti the world and start a revolution.

I'm in a relationship that's like stale water and I'm fucking thirsty.

I'm trying to make O be everything in my world and he refuses to laugh with me.

I'm trying to make O hate me just so I can start a revolution. Actually no, I'm trying to make him change the water.

I need a Border collie to come snap at my heals so I get back in the damned flock and behave.

I need to have fun. Remember having fun? Was that something that ended in the 80s or 90s or do people actually still do that? Without apps like?

I'm too old for this shit!

What do you do when life has slowly nudged you to that point that you want to scream because you're starting to feel like stupidity is surrounding you? You're besieged with it. It's like that old movie in which they shout "The Zulus are coming!". "Stupidity is coming! Oh my God, I'm outnumbered. Badly."

Now logic tells me that it's not that everyone else is stupid it's just that my tolerance for people are so low right now that I'm about to implode. You can't function in the world if you're intolerant of everything around, if everything around you frustrates you.

I think partially this is due to coming out the other side, but not quite all the way, of the breakdown and fully expecting everything to be fine. It's like booking a trip to Barbados only to find it rains for the whole time. That's not what they showed in the brochure.

I would like to sit down and talk to someone about my hopes, my dreams and everything else, and I would like to be someone who doesn't have a preconceived idea about me. No! I'm not talking therapy. I'm talking about a person. Someone who's like your bestest girlfriend but they won't tell you what to do but they will tell you if you're being an arse.

What I need right now is not sex, drugs and rock 'n 'roll. What I need now is a bottle of Cointreau and a human being ready to talk crap for hours. Maybe we'll order in. Maybe we'll call each other names, laugh at our own stupidity and generally become unruly and silly. Maybe we'll solve the world's problems, one by one of course, and maybe we will start that revolution.

I'm tired my friends and I need a blood transfusion. I need input!

I'm just saying.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Don't jog on! Keep hanging about!

I know my posting is sporadic at best and that it's been like for a while but I would like to keep the attention of the few readers I do have here.

The after effects of my nervous breakdown, the depression and the anxiety, seems to be winding down. Sure I still have to take my Prozac but I don't suffer the way I used to and I don't think I will need to take Prozac for F O R E V E R anymore. I'm healing. It's nice.

I don't feel all the comfortable blogging at the moment because I'm not so sure what I want to talk about.

I'm mad at the world in the sense that it seems like there's a real possibility that conservatism will take over in the US and that's a scary thing. To me. Anyway.

I'm mad at the conservatism that's creeping up here in Australia too. The latest, not the greatest, is an outcry at a campaign for year 12 students that is trying to teach students not to be "heterosexist".

Personally I would prefer if people just stopped giving a crap about who others want to sleep with and be done with it, alas that seems impossible. I know that homophobia is rampant in schools and for the sake of the welfare of those "unfortunate" enough to be different can we please all agree that we all don't give a crap either.

There are worse things in this world and we need to worry about them. There are people starving (still!) and if Steve loves Steve I think it doesn't matter nearly as much as the people starving thing. That's just how I am. I'm just saying.

I'm suffering from graphomania at the moment, I just can't stop drawing, so hopefully I will be able to give you some drawings to look at if I continue to fail to string words into to sentences and sentences into blog post. But hey, you, stick around because I enjoy noticing traffic on my page. It gives me the impression someone likes to read what I throw up here (and I especially love it when they comment *hint* *hint*).

So, in the name of feeling a lot less anxious and depressed, and feeling a lot more weird and different from others I wave at you out there in the blogosphere and hope you have a sterling day! I think I'm having one of those so I'd like you to have one too.

I'm just saying.

Friday, October 12, 2012

Booyah!

I'm currently on half the dose of Prozac than I was a month ago.

I'm not taking Xanax.

I'm not taking Valium.

I'm not even taking anything to help me sleep.

Just thought I'd post about that because:

BOOYAH!

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

I. Really. Must. Right. Something.

The world has become a very scary place in my mind which is why I often gargle my mind with sentences from books I like, sentences like “It is to erase the fixed smiles of sleeping couples that Satan trained rooster to crow five times in the morning” (Jitterbug Perfume – Tom Robbins), because they keep the fear at bay.

Nowhere is it clearer than in the US election campaign that the world is a world divided into the rich and poor. This thing that we’ve swallow about how we can all make it big and become rich has suddenly acquired a bitter taste. I’ve been waiting for people to wake up for some time now and now it seems that people are beginning to see that the divide between the rich and the poor is getting larger and larger. The richer are getting richer and there is more of the poor.

I hope and I really hope that for our sake the current trend of believing in capitalism will change. Socialism isn’t the answer either but surely we’re clever enough to think up something better and fairer.
Apart from that I must really write something, right? I miss writing.

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