Saturday, October 19, 2013

It's Witchcraft... Or maybe it's not

I've had a lot of trouble defining myself on a spiritual and religious level in the last several years. I'm loosely attached to a Pagan group in the area, and depending on the day, I might describe myself as an atheist Pagan, a Pagan skeptic, a just-plain-Skeptic, or even a hard, big-a Atheist. Part of me wants to believe in something, in a magic and a spirit in the world. I'd like to believe that something in us goes on beyond this world and echoes into another. And on those days that I hold to anything in myself, it's the magic in the world that speaks to my soul. Certain spells and divinations echo in my heart, giving me strength as others draw strength from their own gods and holy books and words.

Most of the time, though, I can't give that any credence. Because something different speaks to everyone. Because it's all just feelings. Because no truly scientific evidence of anything has been found. Because there's a better explanation for all of life and death, and the scientist in me says there's nothing out there.

So, is it a war of feeling versus mind? Feelings are also an artifact of mind, after all. We're wired on some level to believe. But believing... What has it ever really done for us?

posted from Bloggeroid

Friday, October 18, 2013

Fifty Shades of Lame (warning: mild adult content ahead)

I got into yet another discussion last night on the Fifty Shades books. It started with a coworker being slightly judgmental about people giving books to their kids (at 17-18, which is a parenting judgment call, not ours as booksellers) and then about women in general reading the books. He didn't see how women could want equality in the modern world and them embrace submission on any level. After a short discussion, he did allow that he guessed the point was, in part, that the women had the choice to submit, which made it better.

Which brings us to Fifty Shades. Spoiler Alert: stop reading this blog if you plan to read the books and care deeply about the plot. Or, skip the read if you care more about women and having functioning brain cells. It's pretty awful on a literary level, at any rate.

OK, still with me? Good, then. Now, the problem with Fifty Shades - other than it reading like a bored 50something English housewife's fantasy fanfic of the life of a 20something Seattle college student - is that it's not just bad writing but bad BDSM. This is not the story of a woman who's outwardly strong yet craves submission to escape, or a girl who wants to be owned, or (heaven forbid!) a man who serves willingly at a master's or mistress's feet. This is the story of a young woman who wants no part of submission or the lifestyle, yet chooses to live it and be subjugated to a man's will in most aspects of her lifestyle down to her living situation and the car she drives just to please him and adapt to his admitted controlling nature. The relationship of Anastasia and Christian is closer to abusive than D/s on many levels.

And this novel is what is introducing newcomers to the lifestyle in droves and inspiring a whole generation of BDSM-themed novels. It has achieved cult status and spawned lines of board games, lingerie, and sex toys. There's a movie in the works, though issues with the cast have created delays. All this is just to say that if you're going to play around with something you read in a novel, please do your research. There are a lot of great (nonfiction) books and websites out there on the subject of safety, so play safely, OK?

And if you haven't read it, skip Fifty Shades and read something else on the subject. Even if the classics suffer from the same problems with respect to feminism, they aren't sins against literature.

posted from Bloggeroid

Thursday, October 17, 2013

An open letter to my son

Dear D,

I know that your road is a difficult one at times and that I don't always make it easier. You have been presented with unique gifts and challenges both, and you give back both in spades. As you near the birthday that takes you into your official teen years, though, there a are some things I would like to say.

Firstly, congratulations! You have made it through nearly thirteen years relatively unscathed.

Secondly, and most importantly, you should know that the things I do and say now may make you unhappy. My goal, however, is to raise you to be a good man, not to be a happy child. The modern world is full of grown-up happy children who are, deep down, frustrated and miserable adults. So I am sorry when I make you unhappy, but I'm trying to do right.

Thirdly, you must learn to let the past go. Remember, yes, and learn from things that happened, but do not obsess about bygones and let them consume your every thought. I know it's difficult when the thoughts chase themselves around your Aspergic, obsessive mind sometimes.  Believe me, I do know. You nevertheless need to find a way in those moments to breathe and focus on something else, be it a song, a poem, a meditation, a coloring page, or a math problem.

Fourthly, and perhaps most difficult in the few years ahead as hormones race and other young teens tend to meanness, you need to love yourself. Find out what you find worthy in yourself. Embrace it and develop it. Find your inner strength and be proud of what you did do today instead of putting yourself down for the minor setbacks.

Finally, you must realize that you really are not a small child any longer. You need to understand that it is not appropriate to ask people for things unsolicited. That tantrums and eyerolls don't get you anywhere but your room. That violence against yourself or others will be treated as genuine threat, not something that can easily be contained by much larger adults. That you bear responsibility for your schoolwork.

D, you are bright and stormy both, but that can be just the weather for a rainbow, the promise of a new day and a new world. I want to believe in good things for you, but we've a lot of work to do to get there.

I love you very much,

Mom

Thursday, September 26, 2013

Bad medicine

This week, I'm in a little more pain than usual. On Friday, a pain/inflammation started in my upper abdomen. By Sunday, it was about a 7 and very tender, so I went to E/R. They diagnosed a stomach virus with inflamed lymph nodes and told me to eat small, bland meals and follow up with my clinic if it didn't improve or worsened. Follow with two days of hard work at work, then one day of hard labor at home in the yard when I was supposed to be resting, but there was a complaint about the yard, so we had to put in about 9 hours yesterday on top of 6 Sunday to have it done before a reinspection today or be faced with fines today.

Anyway, by the end of work Tuesday, let alone yesterday and today, moving has me out of breath. At this point, standing up or walking to the bathroom is too much. And the abdominal pain has increased to about an 8.5/10, and when it subsides a little is replaced by a deep, burning itch. Sooo... I don't know. But I have an appointment in two hours and I don't know if I am more afraid that they will tell me out is serious or "it's just a stomach bug, you'll get through it." Because I have never had gastroenteritis like this.

Friday, September 20, 2013

Mishmash

In just sitting in the break room ready to work and sorting out some thoughts. Yesterday was talk like a pirate day. No one dressed up with me, but I scored us some free krispy kremes, anyway. I'll take any excuse to run to work in costume.

This is interesting reading:

http://aweinstein.kinja.com/fuck-you-im-gen-y-and-i-dont-feel-special-or-entitl-1333588443

... OK, while you were reading that, I banged out 3 hours of my work day. Time compression, weeeee!

I'm in a blue funk today. I don't quite want to say depressed, because I feel that depression requires more commitment to one's mood. I'm just... Bluesy.

I'm eating lunch today, though, so maybe that's some kind personal achievement. I don't know.

Whatever, man. Thanks for reading. Time for a smoke, some orange is the new black, and then more work.

Monday, September 16, 2013

XM

As I may have mentioned, I have a bit of a commute to work. My savior on the road is SiriusXM radio. My gently-used Hyundai came with XM, and especially when I leave work late and Showtime on Broadway is on channel 72, my car becomes a haven of solitude instead of the painful body trap it can be at times and which it seems especially to have been when I reach my destination and have to exit the damnable thing.

Anyway, what I have not had is a way to listen to the XM at home. Until today. I just upgraded my package to include internet radio, which includes listening through the website and the android app. Since I don't usually watch a lot of television unless I get an urge and start a whole streak/season of something, I think being able to catch up on some of the radio shows I miss while working will work out well for me.

Friday, September 6, 2013

Groceries in Autumn

I try not to shop at Walmart much. True, in my area it wins out on grocery prices, but in terms of employee relations... Well, I'd far and away rather give my shopping dollars to the Commissary (DeCA), Publix, or Winn-Dixie (the first two having better reputations and the third having a neutral reputation from what information I've found and generally better prices/variety in my area) than to Walmart. So I shop at those three places. Please don't email me and ask why I don't shop at grocery chain X. It's probably because it's not available here.

Anyway, there's a problem: I'm allergic to cinnamon. Every September through, I don't know, December sometime, Winn-Dixie, Publix, and a lot of other big grocery chains put out display after display of brooms that reek of cinnamon. A simple trip to the grocery store, should I forget that it's the season or should the grocer jump the gun and put them out in August (!), becomes a minefield, with me avoiding whole sections of the store and just sending Chris off to shop for meat, produce, spices, or whatever else is near yet another display of brooms.

So, with the grocers trying to kill me (no kidding, this is a tongue-swelling, breath-interfering phenomenon), I can (a) time all my shopping trips to coincide with base errands and do all my shopping at the commissary or (b) give up and shop at Walmart, as long as they haven't started with the cinnamon; it's not a thing I've experienced there in the past, though.

Either way, though, you guys with your brooms have lost thousands of dollars of my business. I realize it's a drop in your bucket, and I realize you're just carrying a product to sell, but staging them everywhere to scent the place is a real problem for some customers-couldn't they be isolated to a cabinet like flowers are?