Archive for April, 2011


Whelp, I covered the Glee gay kiss causing an uproar, so I think I should at least make comment on this event, even if it IS a bit late.

So. For those of you that live under a rock like me, please watch this:

Toemageddon 2011

Or, for those that don’t like watching videos (I know I don’t most of the time) here’s the quick rundown: A J. Crew ad sent out to consumers via e-mail contained a picture of woman laughing with her son, who has pink painted toe-nails. The quote underneath (the ad is shown here) says “Lucky for me, I ended up with a boy whose favorite color is pink. Toenail painting is way more fun in neon.”

Some “psychologists” are “slamming” (as the news outlets so love to say) this ad. According to some, it is “transgender child propaganda.”

Let me explain something to those not well versed in psychology– Nothing MAKES anyone gay or transgender. They were born this way, baby. If you believe otherwise, you’re working with an outdated or outright wrong definition of what it is to be transgender.

References to Lady Gaga aside, it is true, at least in the articles I’ve glanced on the subject and classes I’ve taken, none of which I’ve saved, and thus cannot give you as proof. Thus, I will totally understand if you are skeptical on this particular point: transgender brains are actually similar to the brains of the sex they believe themselves to be, for whatever reason. I don’t pretend to know how or why, but even without that particular point to support it, nothing MAKES anyone transgender.

Being transgender seems to me to be innate for two reasons: It has been around throughout history and those that are transgender cannot seem to repress it. One can argue, I suppose, that describing it as something that cannot be controlled makes it a psychosis. However, I would then ask you what the hell heterosexuality is, as it is something that cannot be controlled either. You may really, really want to swear off women and their crazy antics, but you’re just not attracted to men? You can’t control that. You’re great at art, but bad with math? Can’t control that either.

All that said, it is very possible for someone to be a dipshit like me to not realize I can be considered a transgender individual (though I am bi-gender or genderqueer, not the full on “my gender doesn’t match my sex– it’s the opposite” transgender or transsexual person) until late in life. I never knew there was a name for why I didn’t feel like a woman per se, but I also didn’t feel like a man. That said, it is very possible to do what I do (enjoy crossplaying (cosplaying as a character of the opposite sex and try to pass as that sex), idolize males/have male role models) and be completely comfortable saying “I’m a woman!” Identifying as being of the female gender does not say you have to like what “real women” are gender stereotyped as liking. It simply means you say “I am a woman.” It is something self-defined, and therefore, very personal. Some would argue it is simply an opinion or a perception. While this may be true, our perceptions of ourselves are all we have. Actual, factual, untainted, unbiased facts about ourselves and our thought processes cannot be found in ourselves or someone else. Science is getting closer to being able to have some sort of “proof” that someone is gay or transgendered, be it from something that happened during fetal development or due to differences in brain wiring, but for now, if someone has this belief for an extended period of time, it is considered Gender Identity Disorder, which one has to be diagnosed with to be officially, medically considered transgender.

Back on topic here: Pink Toenails do not a transgender or gay son make. And furthermore, Dr. Ablow and accompanying wench: it is not an “attack on masculinity” or a “blurring of gender lines.” No, kids, the gender lines are still there, and as blurry and indistinct as ever. What is being “attacked” by this ad is the assumption that traditional gender roles/stereotypes should dictate if someone should be excluded from activities due to being a biological male or female.

Something about kids I picked up in my stint in a child psych class: As kids grow up, they “try on” different roles to see if they fit them. When my father shaved his face, I tried imitate him with a Popsicle stick and soap. When my mother was making macaroni, I went and found a bowl and started trying to mush noodles and water and American cheese slices together. When I saw the burlesque mouse in The Great Mouse Detective, I spent nights dancing around in a ballet costume on a “stage” made of my fireplace, singing and dancing. Did this mean that I wanted to be a man, or a cook, or a burlesque dancer? No. It meant I saw the role and tried it on like a hat, nothing more.

That is exactly what this kid is doing with pink toenails. Mommy does it, so he was curious if it was fun, most likely. What he likes about it probably has little to do with his favorite colors being on his toes– it has to do with the fact that he gets to spend time with mommy doing what his mommy does that makes her happy, that he probably perceives as being a “grown-up” activity because he’s not allowed to play with nail polish on his own. It is not because he is a “sissy” or in any way not a boy! For those that didn’t watch the John Stewart “Toemageddon” clip, he points out that a pro wrestler paints HIS toenails black. Is this big, burly guy that can win wrestling matches a sissy? Is he a girl? No. Though I have no idea what this wrestler’s personal gender identification is, I’m willing to guess it’s probably masculine. His gender identification is unaffected by the activities he participates in, be it toe painting or wrestling. If he identifies as a man, he is a man. The end. His biological sex has nothing to do with what his personal gender identification is.

As a transgender friend of mine pointed out: “It’s not the fact that Fox News is portraying this as an attack on masculinity. It is the fact it is on EVERY news network and they are ALL portraying this as valid news– that there is some controversy to be had here! There’s NOT!”

So, I thought it was important to address this insanity. This is, in fact, NOT news. A little boy painting his toe nails is not news-worthy. It is not “covering” anything, it is a public attempt at shaming a mother whom is unashamed of her son questioning what he enjoys in life, stereotypes be damned. This ENTIRE new story centers on one thing, and it is what I have already covered in my post on gender early on in this blog: Adult males feel threatened in their gender identity by their sons being allowed to play with dolls and glitter when their father would have beat them for doing the same. It is envy. It is seeing their son’s freedom to choose what they want to be and do without their gender identity being questioned or threatened and wanting to destroy it because these men never had that as children. This has NOTHING to do with this little boy and his mother– it has everything to do with adult men upset that society no longer condones beating up the queers, sissies, and fags to try to make them into “men” as strongly as it once did. It no longer perpetuates this particular brand of rigid gender roles and hatred for those that do not conform as strongly as in, say, the 1950s.

Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen. This is all about trying to tear away the new-found freedoms of our sons and daughters have– which are tiny, tiny victories in the fight for freedom to simply exist and be different, by the way. This kid, if he is gay or transgender, will face hell, just as the prior gay and transgender people of the world did. But for some people, the simple fact that those gay and transgender kids are not beaten severely as they once were for being different makes them feel insecure and upset with themselves and society.

All of this is about one thing: Men questioning if the stereotypes they forced themselves to conform to in order to be accepted are wrong. And if so, if they did force themselves to conform that way when it is different from what they were, if they were forced to suppress who they are, it is now all for nothing. Now you can be a boy and paint your toes.

It’s utterly pathetic that the only news that recognized all of this as the lashing out of insecure men and nothing that should be taken seriously is the fake news, where nothing is taken seriously.

HEY. HEY. CUT THIS SHIT OUT. NOW.

This bullying crap has been in the news long enough. Take it out. Right now. Wanna know why? People are now trying to FIX children that have NOTHING wrong with them so that they won’t be bullied.

Anyone see how backwards this is?

“Well, I should do whatever I can to protect my kids.”

“NOT THAT YOU IDIOT.” I want to screech, “What the fuck do you think you’re showing them?!”

“That I love them and want to protect them, so I’m taking away things that could–”

“No! No! You’re telling them that ‘You’re fat, your ears are too big, your head’s too small, so I’m going to fix it so you’re more acceptable to a superficial fucking society!'”

I want to take the woman that is taking her cute little seven year old to a plastic surgeon and turn her over to the authorities for sheer stupidity. You shouldn’t be CHANGING a perfectly cute kid to make her more aesthetically pleasing to people that are just going to find a reason to beat on her anyway if they don’t like her. What are they going to make fun of her for now? Probably getting plastic surgery.

And listen to that video: “Parents often get cosmetic fixes for their kids– think orthodontia or contact lenses.” WAT? Contacts have practical purposes. So does orthodontia, even though you could argue that that IS largely cosmetic in minor cases of teeth just coming in a bit askew. But you crazy bitch, this is permanently altering a little girl’s ears because why? She’s not pretty enough for a superficial society? There’s nothing wrong with her ears. They hear. They’re fine. They’re not going to cause her problems later in life with pain or causing physical issues. This is purely because her mother looked at her and said “Hmm, sorry little Sammie, you’re not pretty enough for kids to not beat up. So, let’s fix that.”

Hey, I might just be extra pissed because this kid has my name and because I was bullied, but not for the reason you’d think. Not because “hey, my parents should have protected me like hers! Boo hoo!” No, because this is fucking going out and telling the kids that bully that “Hey! It’s okay to beat on that kid because he has a weird head. His parents should have had the good sense to make him more pleasing to look at.” Now, I’m jumping to an extreme here, but what’s next? People going to start killing kids because they’re not born pretty enough, so they wanted to “save them a lifetime of suffering?!”

You know what we need to START doing? Not having plastic surgery done to perfectly functional kids. We need to start giving those kids the tools and permission to hit back. This kid, Casey Heynes, is my goddamn hero. He’s the hero of nerds and picked on kids across the web. If this is what happened to little punk ass bullies, you can goddamnit bet they would realize that they ought to use more caution in who they pick to beat on. The only time in my life when that nonsense stopped was when I started hurling verbal barbs back and not taking shit. This BS of “Zero Tolerance” does nothing except punish the kids who had the *gasp* audacity to get sick of someone calling them a fat, stupid, ugly Satan worshiping cunt and deck the little fuck that was doing it. And all of you out there know how kids work– you were one. You know that if a kid seeks protection from an adult, shit just gets worse. You’re then a “pussy” for not fighting your own battles, and they’ll just torment you worse when the adults aren’t around.

No, what people need are parents who, when they find out their kid is bullying someone, be it by calling names, or making snide remarks, or beating them up– that kid gets really, and severely, punished for it. No more Xbox live for you, little Jimmy… you beat up Carl at school. Have fun in your room that NOW only consists of a bed and sitting in it for the next month staring at a wall. If you want to avoid that in the future, how about you leave other kids THE FUCK ALONE?!

Of course, some of you may think that the punishment of isolation for a month is a wee bit severe. Okay. Personally, what I think the most ideal punishment would be would NOT be isolation, but the fun of sending the kid to school in something for a week that will get his/her ass picked on and shunned and made fun of. If you know how it feels, suddenly things seem rather different. I realize that’s not PC and is just “encouraging such behavior” but I also sit here and go “How the hell else will they learn to empathize with the kids they’re victimizing?” Kids have illustrated time and time again they’re not the best critical thinkers. Telling them to “think about how it would feel!” does nothing if they have nothing to compare it to. How the hell do you expect them to learn that something hurts other than through experience?*

Now now, I know this goes against the touchy-feely, cuddly, “omg, my kid is the most precious little angel ever!” mentality most parents have. Thus, this new attitude that I believe needs to be instilled will shock and horrify the masses. However, you need to wise the fuck up, parents. You cannot raise your kids even half decently unless you see them as both your precious angel and a hellion of the first order, and recognize that your kids have just as much potential to do ill as any adult. It’s up to YOU to teach them to master that hellion within. It’s up to YOU to teach them that because you don’t like how someone looks it’s not okay to beat on them or tease them.

It’s also up to you, parents, to not enforce the negative bullshit that the hellions amongst children spit out. If your kid comes home crying because they’re being teased about their ears, you tell them they’re beautiful. You tell them they’re beautiful and not to listen to those other kids because they don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about. THEN you tell them they don’t have to put up with that shit. Tell them to have the fun I did as a kid: Tell them to ask the kid why it is they care about your ears. Ask them why it matters. Ask them why they feel the need to come over here and kick sand in your face over your ears, and why it is that such a stupid action makes THEM feel BETTER?

Trust me on this one. Teaching your kid to be a verbal ninja and ask the moron questions and force him/her to question why they’re being a jackass will pay off. They may get picked on, but it will be less frequent… and it will also help them to realize that the problem does not lie with them and their ears. It lies with those that choose to harp on differences for no reason other than “CAUSE IT’S WEIRD CAUSE I SAY SO.”

*Footnote On This Paragraph: No, I’m not condoning hitting your kids to show them hitting is wrong. I am, however, saying that it is perfectly okay that if your kid is hitting some other kid and refuses to stop, to do absolutely nothing to help when the other kid hits back, and when your kid comes running crying that they were hit, enlighten them that if they don’t like hitting when it is done to them, they shouldn’t do it to other people.

I realize my blog posts keep veering steadily toward the insane lately. You know what? It’s my goddamn blog. You don’t like it, get out. I got good reason. Wanna know why?

I went to the doctor today, after two months of having so many problems with food I cannot eat, save in small doses maybe once or twice a day. It causes me physical pain. It makes me unable to focus, unable to walk, unable to do anything. I have to plan after attempting to eat something to feel as though there is a basketball wedged under my ribs and deal with the pain that pressure causes, like it or not, because I just had to break down and eat some crackers. The audacity I have, making my stomach serve its goddamn purpose. Horrifying.

No medications help. Heat doesn’t help. Rest doesn’t help. I finally got to the Gastrointestinal Specialist today. Here’s what I learned.

1. I lost ten pounds in the past two months without trying. The look on the nurse’s face when I told her that one was impressive. “Oh fuck” is generally not an expression you want on your medical provider’s face when you tell them something.
2. None of my symptoms, surprise surprise, are anything that the doc can go “A-HA!” and diagnose.
3. In the words of my doctor: “No twenty something should be losing weight from a gastrointestinal problem. You should have an iron gut like most kids your age, and be off drinking beer and eating pizza. Not this.”
4. There is some debate in the medical community if they should continue to have pagers or just use cellphones instead (hey, I saw he had a pager, I was amazed they still existed, and we talked a bit. It made the horrible pain and sick feeling go away for a minute, so he humored me.)
5. I get to go for a endoscopy and a colonoscopy on Tuesday of next week. Most people don’t have a colonoscopy until they are 50+ years old. I’m a wee bit concerned.

Actually, no. I’m not a wee bit concerned. I’m very concerned that they don’t know what’s wrong, and that they have to do expensive fuck tests to even try to have an idea of what’s wrong. And if there are any of you paranoid fucks out there going “THEY JUST WANTCHA MONEY! DON’T DO IT!” Fuck you. Fuck you in the face with a baseball bat with a sprinkling of go to hell. When a doctor I just met is visibly distressed at what is going on, telling me that while he’s doing bloodwork, even if he finds something there we’re still doing the tests to make sure there’s nothing really really bad going on, I FUCKING LISTEN TO THEM. I’m an arrogant little shit, but I don’t pretend to have a medical degree.

I get back from all this fun and games today with some new drugs to tide me over until Tuesday and maybe make my sad little life more bearable. Then guess what? I got hit with a migraine. I tried sleeping after taking some ibuprofen and lots of fluids, it got worse. I had to grope my way to the bathroom with one hand over my eyes because I was so light sensitive, and try a hot shower because the leftover narcotics I had resorted to taking because the pain wouldn’t stop didn’t work. I’m finally okay, but nauseous and still light sensitive after that.

And guess what. Come on, guess. 😀

I have a biology test tonight. I’ve already accepted I’m going to fail it because I can’t study for fear my migraine will come back and I won’t make it to the test at all, and as they say, 30% is still better than a zero.

So, yeah. I’m worried, I’m upset, I’m trying to find my way out of my dead-end job and need to fill out things for that, I’m having tests no twenty something should be going through, I’m scared I’m going to fail this bio class and have to take it again, adding another semester onto when I’m supposed to graduate, and on top of that, I know my parents and I are sitting here looking at the fucking bills my being sick keeps racking up and going “fuck.”

This blog is my only outlet for a lot of this because I don’t want a lot of the people that know me in meatspace (thank you, @patrickcentral) to know what is going on because I don’t want to deal with that. So I’m really sorry if it gets depressing for a while.

On the upside, at least all this miserable shit will probably be sprinkled with videogame references and morbid humor?

Or, you know, if you wanted the funny-ranty to come back, you could always try esunaga. I can’t find my white mage staff at the moment.

Okay, that was forced and sad.

I’m just going to stop now.

Thanks for reading, you guys. And whoever keeps searching “I, out of musical theory, have created order out of chaos” to find my blog? Leave a comment. I’m fascinated by your existence. No, seriously. I am. Please?

… I’ll stop for real this time, now. Bye, guys. I’ll keep you posted as I can.

When Crackers Make You Cry

So, I’m sitting here angry at crackers. This is how you tell you’re way too stressed out for your own good.

I should be happy, for all intents and purposes. I’m going to see My Chemical Romance tonight, giving me an excuse to dress up, and the ticket wasn’t even on my tab– it was a gift. And yet, I almost started yelling at an inanimate object because it, though no fault of its own, kept breaking when I tried to eat it, getting crumbs all over my keyboard.

Thus, I decided to start blogging. All of that looks a hell of a lot more absurd in text than it does when I’m on the verge of tears because I seem to keep spilling everything, because I perceive my cat staring at me as I eat as her judging me (in reality the little fluff ball just wants the tuna I’m eating), and NOW the goddamn crackers won’t stay together long enough for me to eat them and finish my pathetic little fucking lunch of sadness and despair because I’m afraid to eat anything else because if my stomach is upset at the concert tonight, I will be in hell. I contemplated just not eating at all today. I have contemplated not eating all together, not just today, but for the rest of however long I can manage it, because I’m tired of feeling sick. I may be crying from hunger, but hey, done that before– and that way I won’t bloat up so much my pants hurt me! YAAAAAY!

See all of that? That makes perfect sense to me right now. You guys are probably scrambling to find my IP address so you can send someone after me to pick me up for the loony bin. And if they arrived, right now, I would invariably reason my way out of it with this fucked up logic of “Well, I just keep getting sick when I eat– I’LL JUST NOT EAT FOREVER” as though it’s possible. I am the person who whenever I cannot speak correctly and keep stumbling over my words, will physically hit myself in the head. I am not reasonable. I am not sensible. And in my fucked up world where the crackers are just crumbling all over my keyboard because the universe believes I’m too fat and shouldn’t eat anyway, it makes sense.

However, I have a solution. A sneaky secret plan that will work even against my own mind. I can never shut up when I’m upset. I just have to tell someone. So I’m telling all of you and doing it in print. Verbally, the words disappear. In print, I read back through this and go “Fucking hell. Calm down. Things are going to be fine. Vindictive crackers? Time to go watch some cute cats for a while or something, jeezus fuck.”

Suddenly, because I’m telling you, my stress level is dropping. Suddenly Ginger is just the fat little fluff ball that wants my tuna, not some horrible being going “WHY are you eating THAT?” Suddenly the crackers were just damaged in the bag, not pre-broken by some conspiracy to spite me. And suddenly, I’m just another person with a strange pseudo-IBS WTF that my doctors are trying to diagnose and my stomach is testy in the meantime, not someone who should just never ever eat again.

Suddenly, things make sense again, and the tears are of relief. If I can do this, I actually am finally getting better at all of this.

So you know what? It’s okay that I’m doing this instead of the paper due tomorrow right now. It’s okay I’m not going to get home until three– I have my report drafted out, it’s just a question of piecing things together before 12:30 P.M. tomorrow. This benefited me a fuck lot more than trying to work on that in this head state would have.

Now, I’m going to go dress up as a Killjoy, stop worrying, and pick out what crazy ass make-up I’m going to wear.

Suddenly, I’m Miss Punk Rock, star of stage and screen… And I’m never coming back.

I look back at where I’m from,
Look at the woman I’ve become,
And the strangest things seem suddenly routine…”

I actually heard this at work the other day. My reply, which was deemed hysterical by the male present and earned me glares from the females:

“You ENJOY the smell of vomit?”

This quickly ranting blog post was brought to you by the boys over at Cracked, via their article on 5 Terrible Situations for the Socially Awkward Male. Look at number one. What is it? Holding a baby.

What the FUCK is it with people and trying to shove babies on you? It’s your stupid ball of vomit, you hold it. I don’t want to.

“Oh, but you really do!”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re just shy!”
“You’re just a cunt.”

And then they get all pissed.

“Just take it!”
“If you didn’t want to hold it, maybe you should have used a condom.”

Why do people like to inflict their offspring on other people? I’ve covered a little in a prior blog post ranting about how women were batshit at one of my prior jobs and constantly needed to remind me they had kids/were pregnant. Why? I NEED TO KNOW, PEOPLE. Mostly because I need to know how best to avoid it.

A few of you women know what I mean and also object. If it’s awkward for a guy, it’s worse for us– apparently because we have tits we think babies smell like sunshine and unicorns and are omg da bestest cwutest tings evar! The guy has a prayer of escaping holding the thing. We usually don’t. That’s why I avoid all contact. Thank Bahamut, it doesn’t often come up. If it does, I will seriously contemplate punting the thing over a fence if SOMEONE doesn’t come in and tell me why people enjoy inflicting this suffering upon other people.

That’s all for now. Possibly there will be more ranting later, trying to figure out the insanity on my own.

Have a comic by the wonderful person that makes Lackadaisy as a reward for sitting through this inanity. In the same vein, but funnier than my lunatic ramblings.

STOP THE PRESSES. I have figured out why the fuck one of my housemates is so annoying. Wait for iiiiiit…

SHE THINKS NO ONE WOULD COMPLAIN ABOUT HER. EVER.

Now, you can bitch all you like “hurr durr, you shouldn’t talk behind people’s backs, it’s not nice!” but I know you do it anyway. It’s HEALTHY, people. Would it be better to just bottle all that negativity up and end up going into a sneaky hate spiral? No. No one should be screamed at over something as stupid as “YOU LEFT A CRUMB ON THE COUNTER,” or “YOU LEFT THE SPONGE IN THE SINK” when really what you’re so mad about is the fact that the curtains are gone, the paint’s peeling, the pot on the stove is boiling over and your apartment is NOT on fire. It’s not the crumb or sponge. It’s a number of things. But if you wig the fuck out because you’ve been “repressing everything in a deep dark twisted place until you snap and kill them” (thank you Christina) then they’ll just think you’re bonkers or a jackass that overreacts to insignificant stimuli. (And then most likely get worse…)

I found out about the flaws in this girl’s perception of reality thusly: She was standing there and bitching to me about our other housemate and then said “I feel bad for bitching about him now when I’m going to ask him to do something with me tonight.”

“Why?” I said. “Everyone complains about everyone. I’m sure you and he bitch about me, so why is it wrong to bitch about him? Repressing it does no one any good.”

This quickly launched into her looking acutely uncomfortable as soon as she realized that implicit in that statement meant I bitched about HER. Apparently, she could not wrap her little head around that one. She also quickly became cranky. No matter.

Here’s what’s so baffling to me: How can this be the case? Is this a larger trend? Am I to believe the media when they say my generation is a bunch of fucking entitled assholes that think they can do no wrong and offend no one? In response to this incident and a few others, I would say yes. That baffles the shit out of me.

Maybe it’s just the fact that I had PLENTY of opportunities to realize I’m a failure in some aspects of life, but I have trouble seeing how anyone can get to the age of 20 and honestly believe that no one would ever complain about them. That means to me they believe that no one should have any reason to be annoyed at anything they are doing. Suddenly, so much of her thoughtless behavior is explained– it is not that she thinks of no one else, it is that she hasn’t the idea in her head that she should think of anyone else, because in her world, no one should be bothered by anything she does! Ergo, she does not need to consider anyone else when she does something, because that implies that something she is doing might annoy or inconvenience someone.

My question to you all: How the fuck can anyone be this lost in self deception?

For her delusion up there to be true, she would have to live in a vacuum and have no one around to annoy. Something you do is going to irritate someone if you live with them long enough, even if it is something that is useful or positive. For example: I compulsively clean. And by clean I mean CLEAN. I mean, I will spend fifteen minutes cleaning spots off the mirror. An hour cleaning the shower. If that plate in the sink won’t come clean for anyone else, by Bahamut it will fucking come clean for me. Due to these fits of perfectionist mania I have, I have an insane standard of what clean is. Therefore, you can guess how well it works when someone else tries to clean for me as a nice surprise.

Now, think about this. Cleaning has to be done, so it’s good that I do it, yes? Yes. But it is annoying to clean something and have someone come right behind you and go “The spots, the SPOTS, they remain! OUT DAMN SPOT! OUT!” and start scrubbing furiously at whatever you just cleaned. It’s made even more annoying when they actually do quote Macbeth at you. Which I do. You may all now marvel at the fact I have not been shot yet, and please send your condolences to @DrHowl on twitter.

Okay, so, we’ve just established that something that can be positive can be quickly made annoying as fuck. You all know from life experience that more negative things can be annoying as fuck. I know for a fact she knows what it is to have someone do annoying things because she was complaining about what annoyed her about our other housemate. So how can she honestly believe that no one would complain about her, and then become upset when she realizes someone could and probably does? All while *she* is complaining about someone else?!

I have a theory. It has to do with the great evil of being politically correct. In being politically correct, one is to use euphemisms or otherwise hide whatever one actually means. If someone wraps up what they want to say in enough cotton candy, it won’t be so bad that they’re calling you a disgusting freak, apparently. Apparently it is much better to call you “a controversial individual of unique nature that is often in social conflict with peer behavior.” Yeah, because all of that doesn’t mean the same damned thing. Another great example of this type of lying can be found on resumes under job titles and duties. Suddenly a person that has a job cleaning pig styes is a “Animal Cleanliness Controller” and shoveling poo is “Waste management.” The point is, it is all LYING. If you have to conceal what you actually mean in any capacity, it is a type of deception. Worse, it is expected by society as the norm now.

People use this deception as a security blanket. They can say the most hateful things and pretend it’s not hateful. Suddenly it’s not “We don’t hire fags” it’s “we don’t hire anyone that makes risky lifestyle choices to ensure we have funding to help our employees when they are in need. Our apologies.” If you can take something that hateful and make it into something that is on the surface that benign, that even makes some logical sense (“Oh, well, they shouldn’t be extending health insurance to someone that is jumping off bridges or something for a hobby, it’d be expensive if they had to pay for them being hurt!” one might think, hearing that out of context and *not* directly after someone asks about your living arrangements and you have said “I live with my partner.”) then what limit is there to what you can do? What limit is there to what you can suddenly make inoffensive? Suddenly it is not that you leave your clothes lying all over the floor because you’re a lazy asshole, it is that your “creative mind has difficulty grasping inorganic systems of organization.” Oh, so it’s not your fault that you just take off your clothes and throw them on the floor, suddenly it’s because you have an organizational disability. Right.

I understand the PC bullshit that is supposed to be polite because HEY, chances are if you’ve put on some weight since high school (like everyone has) you know it. You don’t need someone coming up and going “Wow, you got fat.” No. You don’t comment on the fact their ass has grown by three sizes, you say “Oh, your hair looks lovely!” That implies some forethought about the other person’s feelings. You recognize that they probably know they’re bigger than they used to be. No one needs to tell them. It’s a form of deception in the fact you filtered what you said, but it is not the PC malarkey I listed above. If it was, what would have been said instead was “I see you don’t have to shop in the mediums anymore! You always used to complain everything was picked over. I bet you have your choice of anything you want, now! Awesome.”

Point is, people have tricked themselves into honestly believing that if they’re not outright calling someone a lard-ass or outright breaking your dishes purposely they’re not being offensive and no one has anything they can complain about. They’re always considerate– except when someone else should be considerate of their inability to grasp what a hamper is. It’s all about the diffusion of blame onto other people for not accepting your short comings. YOU can’t help what’s wrong with you– but everyone else just needs to learn to stop being so lazy and pick up their clothes. And the very idea that someone would complain about what you can’t change– my god. They’re such horrible people! You’re a victim, you’re coping with your organizational learning disability as best you can!

All this taken into consideration, I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that my roommate cannot grasp why anyone would dislike her or complain about her. After all, I’m just a meanie-face for implying that she’s somehow not perfect just how she is. I really should just learn to accept the fact she is, in fact, just exceptionally gifted at alternative means of anger channeling and conflict management that can hold multiple differing opinions at the same time. It’s everyone else that’s a sulking, passive aggressive hypocrite.

Silly me.

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Small Note: The post published just prior to this has been moved to private visibility. It only provoked silence, which is really not what I’d like to have here. Apologies to anyone that wanted it kept up. I just didn’t see the point.

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