Holiday memories

Today, a thread on LSG brought up some Christmas memories, some of which I shall share.


When I was in 5th grade, we were robbed blind the first week of December or so. Christmas was going to suck balls that year. Tristan really wanted a pair of Adidas shoes for christmas, but those motherfuckers are expensive as hell but she was a tad self-dentered back then, so that didn't matter. She still demanded that she have $100+ Adidases.

She got the knockoff brand with like 5 stripes on the side.

Guess who still has the video tape of her crying about it.

THIS GAL

The video also contains my happy ass getting a Seal cassette tape. That was all I wanted that year, and that was basically all I got. I was so fucking happy.

Another year, Tristan was going through her baby fat stage (5th-6th grade) and that was the only time our biological father saw us in person until she got married at 18. So, every year after the pre-teen visit, he would send her a really large men’s sweater from Alaska (where he lives) to her as a present.

Bastard.

Finally, my parents bought me and Tristan (2 years my senior) the same makeup palette for christmas when I was 10 or so. I am 27 now. I tossed that shit out when I was 17 or so.

Just last year, I spotted Tristan STILL USING THAT SAME GODDAMN MAKEUP PALETTE.

I threw it away for her. I didn't want her eyeballs to rot out.

I was going to make a blog post today

... but my fucking fingers are not connecting properly with my brain and I'm just kind of at a loss. No. The opposite of that. I have things to say, but too much of it. I also need to actually get shit done for work that I keep putting off.

I should be a life coach

No, really. Even though I can't get my own shit together, I should be a life coach. I have a way about me that convinces others that I am right about... well... everything. Witchcraft!

Tonight I talked to a friend for three solid hours about things that others around him have been trying to tell him, but for whatever reason he didn't listen to them. Something about how I confronted (read: ambushed) him and put the fact out on the table made him see things for the way they were. Sorry I can't be more specific. At any rate, I got a sincere thanks (another thing I won't say unless I mean it) from said friend and hopefully a lifelong positive result with very few refresher ambushes in the future.

But for me? Let's see here. I slept for 14 hours straight on Sunday, I think. What day was that? At any rate, I read all of Portia de Rossi's memoir, Unbearable Lightness, in one sitting (about 3 hours). It was wonderful. My review of it is on goodreads. That's another thing I need to make lucrative for myself: reviewing books and getting paid for it. But anyway, I digress.

I stayed up until 3 am reading that damn book, then slept all day, unaided, and awoke only to have dinner prepped by Andy. Over the weekend, we finished painting the kitchen and I cleaned out the blue room a bit. We found the perfect couch and figured out it wouldn't fit into any part of the house, so we sadly passed it by. I cleaned the far corner of the library (I swept and picked up all the books! And I put the books where they BELONG!) and fussed at Andy about his... different... way of looking at cleaning up. My idea of cleaning up is putting things where they belong. His idea has become shoving things under other things. I was unhappy about that.

Here, I will apologise and admit fault. For the longest time, things had to be exactly how I wanted them. He learned long ago that moving anything in the house could potentially set off an avalanche of angry words and accusations. I guess I should have let Andy know that since we moved into the house, wherever he thinks something should go is where it should go. No more do we have to worry about hiding things away or stacking shit on top of more shit like we did in the apartments. We have more than enough room in the house. For that, I am eternally grateful. So yes, thank you Andy. And I'm sorry.

He knows my stance on those phrases.

Speaking of "should," I got to dish out some advice I myself was given a year or so ago to the aforementioned and unnamed friend. A knitting buddy, Paige, was listening to me grouse about the things I should be getting done. I should have been finding another job, cleaning the apartment, doing school work, blah blah blah.

Finally, she gave me her priceless advice: "Fuck should."

Just... fuck it. There is no should or should not. Kind of Yoda-esque. But at any rate, should is a state of mind, not a necessity. When you think about it, should is in the eye of the beholder, but much more often in the eye of the beholder's overlord.

Above mentioned friend kept saying he should do this and that and then gets sucked into the sneaky hate spiral, or at least the sneaky guilt spiral (we also discussed the difference between Jewish guilt and Catholic guilt-- guess what kind of guilt he was subjected to) and accomplishes nothing. He will admit that.

But what he SHOULD do is nothing. Should is gray. What he wants and needs is so much more important. Yeah, he NEEDS to get some of his shit together. He WANTS to get his shit together. Thus, he WILL get his shit together. The should feeds the apathy and the guilt. Should is a bad word in my philosophical worldview.

I SHOULD go to sleep. I took two sleeping pills 2 hours ago. I WILL finish this blzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I'm Sorry and I'm Afraid.

Not really and I suppose.

A while back, I decided to stop saying "I'm sorry" for things I'm not really sorry for. For instance, if I bump into someone on accident and upset something about their personage, I'm sorry. If they bump into me and expect an exchange of "pardon me"s and "I'm so sorry"s, they can forget about it. A student is demanding something unreasonable that they feel they are entitled to?

Shaylin, I need you to tell me my exact grade over the internet even though it's not secure and kind of frowned upon and I also need you to tell me whether or not I am going to pass your class even though my performance has been pretty crappy over the past 10 weeks and I need a detailed list as to why I might not be passing so I can argue with you over it, endlessly, over the internet.

A common response would be: "I'm sorry Student. I cannot do that."

Shaylin's response:

I'm afraid that I cannot do that. Please see me in person (as per your syllabus) about your grade if you have concerns. Otherwise, all grades at listed on D2L (kind of like blackboard).

Because, what is it to be "Sorry?" To be truly and honestly regretful toward an event or attitude? No, it's now just a filler to reassure the other party and mollycoddle them into a false sense of security. It's like "I love you." Or, alternately, "I hate you." It's a diluted phrase that has lost significant amounts of meaning, true meaning, over time.

So, I'm not sorry. I am not sorry for the things I cannot control, things that are not inherently my fault, or... really anything. I am only sorry when I've done something wrong.

But. "I'm afraid?" Alternately, "I fear." That's a suitable substitution, right? Student, I fear I cannot give you this information because I don't feel like it and it's in my syllabus that you cannot demand insane things from me at all hours of the night. Student, I fear that you are taxing me and my resolve to maintain this career path of mine with your ridiculous capacity to send incomprehensible emails. I'm afraid for your future. But I am not sorry.

At any rate, that's my stance for tonight. I have much more to say, but I think I need to put it into another post. 

Bella Swan and Feminism.

Some may have seen this image floating around, complete with a caption indicating that Mrs. Cullen herself is responsible for setting feminism back 20 years or so.

Really? A.) Why are you putting this much time and effort and stock into a character in a book that you so clearly loathe? Is it because you have run out of things to blame? B.) Why does it even matter? Have you read the books? And if you have (as I have), you'll see that the entire Twilight series is just throwaway fiction aimed at a very specific demographic that was lucky enough to become something of a worldwide phenomenon.

Other books have been similarly criticised for encouraging kids to drink, smoke, do drugs, run away from home, use curse words, have sex... the list goes on. And yet, you still find it necessary to blame one thing for whatever you think is wrong with the world today.

Here is the bottom line: If you think that Bella Swan, an insignificant character in an ultimately insignificant fantasy book series is the worst thing to happen to feminism since the phrase "Make me a sandwich, woman" was first uttered, there is something wrong with you and your view of the world.

If parents and caretakers cannot put any piece of fiction into context (I love The Catcher in the Rye. Am I going to run away from school and smoke and drink and get a prostitute then pussy out and send her away? No.), then YOU (the caretaker) are the one setting any important movement in humanity back. If Bella Swan's ultimate goal in life is to have a hot, old, immortal, creepy husband, then fine. If a girl (or boy, I'm not here to judge) is daft enough to think they should emulate such a character, the problem there started at home, not from an idea in a book.

Good day.

Shit got busy.

With the start of the new semester, my life got very busy. Four courses at Radford, one at ITT, and a plethora of life obstacles in between made my day-to day plans change completely. This is a typical week in the life of Shaylin:

M: Wake up at 6, get ready for work. Get to RU by 10 am (for office hours). Teach from 11-1, an hour break, 2-3, get home. Grade, take care of the animals, work on the house, something to keep me busy until 10 or so when I go to sleep.
T: I don't have class until 5, and office hours at 4. However, I find it hard to do anything during the day when I know I have to be somewhere in the evening. I just... can't. So I sit around and kint and feel sorry for myself.
W: Same as M, but I have to get straight from RU to ITT (get done with RU at 3, take the bus back home which lasts until 4, drive to ITT and plan like hell before class starts at 6), and stay there until 9:30. 10:30- home, bed.
R: 10-12, clean Steven's house. Then the same as T.
F: Same as M without the office hours.
Sat: Work on the house or help Tristan with her homework
Sun: See Sat.

It's not as busy as it could be. However, it's busy for my lazy ass. I've been working on the Beekeeper's quilt along with about 1k others and have contracted the hexipuff disease. I ordered some Phat Fiber and have been spinning a lot lately, too.

For the most part, we are all okay. We lost Andy's granddaddy today. My Auntie Gail is failing on us, as well. At least mum will get to go out to see her next week (in Oregon!), though.

I've had a disgusting eye infection or something for like a week. I don't want to go to the Dr. I'm hoping it'll just... go away or something. I can't wear makeup or contacts because it irritates my eyes too much.  But at least my skin is better. I still have those not-quite-healed-but-not-quite-scarred marks all over my arms and legs. It's not an ideal situation.

School is going decently. 102 is... well... just not really clicking for me this semester. It just makes me angry for some reason. I love research and of course I love teaching, but something is off. I suspect that it's because my class and I have not yet connected properly and the students seem to think that it's a waste of their time because of how I conduct the class. There are things I could do differently, I suppose, but it's always worked for me in the Spring. Just something about the Fall...

We're making progress on the house. I painted half of my bathroom and Andy cut a cat door hole in the door to the basement. I've been trying to keep up with laundry and dishes and have basically given up on my garden for the year. That's all I've got for now.

The Fresh Prince Was a Bogus Premise.

I've been thinking about this for a week or so now.

Bullshit.

I had to go back and watch the whole thing over. Very little context is given, but my inner book critic is telling me that his mom just got sick of him and kicked him out, passing his wall-tagging ass off  on some richy-rich relatives. She wasn't concerned for his safety. What mother sends their child from Philadelphia (at the age of like... 16? is that how old he was supposed to be?) to fucking Bel-Air? 

I'm with Affleck on this one.

I get it. It's supposed to be your classic fish-out-of-water plot premise that somehow managed to last for a few years and is still etched into the hearts and minds of my fellow children of the 90's. It was ground-breaking, I guess. What other tv shows before it had shown a wealthy family of black people taking in a hoodie from off the streets of Philly, and were shown in a positive light? Sure, the whole family had that Uncle Tom-esque generic Oreo feeling about them, but at least on the surface they were good people. At the same time, you had other odd barriers being broken by Urkle on Family Matters (ever seen a Blerd before? I didn't think so) and having both shows being marketed to youth to show (hopefully) equality across the board. 

What I have the problem with is  the titular character in the first place. Maybe it's because I'm not a mother, but really, who just sends their kid off to the West coast? Just... sends him! "I begged and pleaded..." WTF? Moving sucks. Mom, why? Why did you send your Fresh Prince to Bel Air? You make no sense. Your logic is flawed. 

To make peace with this, I like to think that maybe she had bigger dreams to chase so she sent her kid off. But why wait so long? He was clearly able to take care of himself, yet she didn't toss him out on the streets. She made sure he was taken care of, and well. Maybe she couldn't take care of him herself, but there we are getting back into dangerous stereotype territory. Maybe she was just sick of him. We can just go with that.

This bothers me more than it should. I am annoyed and sometimes even kept awake at night over the success and resulting lasting fame this thoroughly mediocre and ridiculous show basis has been given. I for one don't lament it's cancellation nor its star's slow decline into Scientology. But it's still annoying.