eumelia: (get a job)
I still haven't gotten the hang of the fact that I am working full time.

All the time I once had for writing here, I now tweet, because I don't have access to DW/LJ at work.

However, because I now work in an office space, I actually have a funny anecdote to share!

As those of you who follow my twitter know, The Company is an Evil Corporation, but my Boss is a lovely person and we get along pretty well for people who only met a month and a half ago.

I work in metadata and content editing for online videos, I'm basically the drudge worker of the IT world. But it does make for very interesting conversation - because we're a team of six people and each of us works on different topics, we often ask each other for advice about how to tag a video.

Today a conversation went something like this:

Colleague: "Mel, what do you call auto-erotic asphyxiation when someone else does it you?"
Yours Truly: "Erotic asphyxiation"
Colleague: *frowning* "Are you sure?"
Yours Truly: "Yes, K, I'm sure."
Boss: "I don't even want to know how you know that"
Your Truly: *grin* "Better not ask then"

And that is some of the stuff we get up to in the office.

I'm very happy to tell you that the sexual harassment law hangs for all to see in the kitchen and that the uber-competent office manager is the ombudsman - that is, she's the one we go to should anyone feel therer is a need to report a case of inter-office sexual harassment.

I'm enjoying the job. Even if it sucks the life out of me!
eumelia: (bullshit)
Hello my lovelies.

Shall I regale you with my continuing saga of ordeals, making my unremarkable life a series of events one can only coin as "unfortunate".

I don't remember if I mentioned, but my parents have gone on holiday and I am house sitting for them, spending time like a single lady with a cat. I had procrastinated most of Sunday and Monday away, the most productive thing I had done was write a few words of fic, send out a few resumes and set up a job interview.

The job interview was set for today and there's not much to say about it. The interviewer wasn't impressed by me and so when I get the call back, the rejection shan't sting. Still, as my sister told me as she coached me, "have fun and gain experience". It was fun to dress up and look around a be utterly out of league when it came to this kind of place of employment - high end kitchen design halls just aren't for me I guess.

However, prior to the interview I lamented the fact that my good pants were in the wash and I had no decent shoes!

[Sexy!Roommate], bless her, works a hop and a skip away from my home town and she very generously brought me my good shoes from our flat up north.

I was out of the house for two hours or so.

When I returned, it was like a scene out of Titanic.

My red All-Stars were soaked as I stepped into a puddle of water and I literally gasped. I just, could not believe what I was seeing. I followed the water to my parents' bedroom.

My mother's Crocs were floating.

The pipe of the en-suite sink had burst and was spraying water everywhere.


I had to call my neighbours to help me turn on the mains for the water and I was holding it together by a thread. A thread.

By the time the plumber came I'd already cried to my parents over the phone - they tell me they are proud of me, that I handled things well. God, I hope I'm never in a real flood or other natural disaster, I would not do well, I tell you!

That said, I did my best to scoop the water - but the carpeting in their room was soaked, as was the carpeting of my childhood bedroom. It was pretty horrific.

There's something poignant and tragic about taking pictures of ruined pillows, boxes and pictures to send off to the insurance company.

And today, the plumber returned to repair and rip up the carpets - had this happened in July or August, we may had been tempted to air our the rooms and let the carpets dry, but in March it's still too chilly and damp.

The cat, of course, is utterly stressed out. He shat all over the place and I've mopped up the floor twice already. It doesn't help that he's old and has a cough. I'm taking him to the vet tomorrow for the first time in... many years. He's a very anxious and indoors-y creature, he doesn't do well with these things, if we're going to understate things.

It's funny, when I spoke to my mother she asked me if I had blogged about my exploits and I said, no, I hadn't. I wasn't sure whether this would read as hilarious anecdote or an over share of pity. I suppose it's a bit of both.

When speaking of all the above to my siblings I reiterated that I must be cursed. How does all this plumbing shit happen to one person, over and over again, in less than six months?

My eldest sister suggested I become a plumber - in my addled mind - that idea is beginning to sound pretty damn good. Don't think I haven't been looking at technical colleges!

I have another job interview lined up soon.

I march on. One soggy socked foot at a time.
eumelia: (flog it)
My uterus is trying to claw its way out of my body and these past few weeks have been no good, bad, horrible.

I think I'm warranted chocolate chip cookies and hot chocolate milk this evening before I go off to make myself a proper supper.

I'm not feeling overwhelmed like I did before. I paid my first utility bill and am feeling mighty grown up, although I think I passes a level when it comes to adulthood regarding what I had to do yesterday.

You'll need a bit of back story and a strong stomach for this story is about plumbing and how it can sometimes become your life.

I'm recounting this, because suffering should be shared and not wallowed.

Some of you may recall the drama of my apartment.

I mentioned two weeks ago, or thereabouts, that the toilets in my flat were leaking and that the washing machine broke by deciding to leak and be an electrical hazard and whatnot.

Well the plumber came and did what plumbers do to fix leaks of this kind... He stuck some silicone goo stuff around the pipes, bid me farewell and left. I, being a first time tenant and overall helpless young bachelor(ette) called my land lady and informed her of the goings on. She said "fine, I'm covering the plumbing issues" and we say goodbye.

The washing machine repair man came, gave me a very expensive diagnosis (we need our washing machine!) and I called the landlady again, to tell her about this and the cost.

The woman blew up on me and flaked on me, telling me that I was inconsiderate and that I and [Sexy!Roommate] have done nothing but complain and did she not put in bay window for us on her own dime and I was utterly flabbergasted.

She told me to get the machine fixed, but it was at our own expense.

I spoke to people afterwards, people being my roommate and my sister who is a lawyer... yeah.

The washing machine was fixed and the guy said to let it run empty to make sure it works.

By this point I was a little rattled and had ranted and wailed to people. It all came to a head when I heard some rustle come from the service balcony. The rustle, as you may have guessed, was a flood of water from the washing machine.

I very bravely didn't cry.

I called the guy again and he returned to fix something he should have tightened before hand. I hope I never have to call a repair man, but if I ever do, I am never calling him again.

The man left and you'll be happy to know I've used the washing machine since then without incident, it's quite nice to have something that was supposed to work... actually work

It was after that, that I thought I could relax and actually use a non-leaky toilet without having to squeegee the floor. Well, nature called and wouldn't you know, the toilet didn't leak, because it was blocked. The water wouldn't go down and the water actually burst through the drainage pipe that is situated, you guessed it, on the service balcony.

At this point, I just wanted my fucking floor to be dry!

Cue the plumber again and me being very harried indeed.

The plumber said I looked like I'd been traumatised. Well, when you've had things go very wrong, very badly, very quickly one tends to get harried.

Once the asshole was done and took what was left of my cash he said to me, in that patronising way men of a certain age speak to women my age, "You know there are bigger problems in the world."

To which I replied before shutting the door in his face: "Yes, but these are mine".

And so, my landlady calls me not long after to inform me that [Sexy!Roommate] and I are no longer allowed to throw toilet paper into the toilet. Because this is what caused the blockage.

My roommate and I were utterly disbelieving, because what? We can't use the toilet the way man and woman intended? Seriously? And so we said "okay" and continued to use the facilities like civilised human beings.

Yesterday morning, nature called as it want to do. The water wouldn't go down. "Motherfuck" is what I said, quite succinct if I do say so myself. Being much poorer than I was and greatly reluctant to call a plumber and/or the landlady, I put on my big girl pants, rubber gloves and said to myself "Mel, you've changed the nappies of toddlers with diarrhoea. This is a piece of cake."

And indeed, toilet paper was the culprit.

I fucking hate this fucking flat.

Being independent is grand, I'm happy to be living on my own with a roommate. I'd be happier if this apartment actually behaved the way it is supposed to and would stop being such a menace to my health. Mental or otherwise.

But hey, at least I have cooking gas! It's supper time!
eumelia: (little death - thinking)
I have been absent, not because stuff in my life hasn't been happening or because I found myself unable to comment on politics in my locale, or even because I've been exceedingly busy (though I have been).

I was actually going to update yesterday, but due to the DDoS attack on Livejournal I found myself reluctant to put down in words my thoughts and such, because I wasn't sure whether the cross-posting would work. Let me tell you, I am so happy my DW and LJ are mirrors of each other and that everything is basically backed-up in that way.

I've been contemplating what I'll be doing next year, and I've been zigzagging between various decisions none of which feel resolved to me, but life in flux isn't all bad, I have the chance to reflect and think about things.

One of the things that made me want to get back to making regular updates, is giving a bit of an anecdote about my niece Libby (she's the big one, not the infant), because looking back since the beginning of the year, my writing here has been choppy and scarce, hopefully you all have been noticing, and even if you haven't I have.

Hopefully I can get back to spieling at you all on a regular basis.
There has also been a "taking television seriously" reason that got me blocked for a time, I might get into that here or later. Oh... now that I that I think about, I have a lot to write about, suddenly!

But first, being the self-centered and proud Auntie that I am (I even have a nickname!) I want to talk about how this anecdote reflects how foreign I feel in my own life, sometimes.

Anecdote: Cut for Length )

I should find a girlfriend for myself, really, and not just to be cool-and-queer aunt Mel a.k.a Gaga (yeah, that's my nickname!), though that's a really big perk :-)
eumelia: (buggering)
An anecdote, regarding how one shouldn't have supper, if you please.

Last night, after a long day at Uni and Work, I came home, showered and was picked up by a friend in order to spend time with my, um, posse, I guess.

They'd been meeting the past few weeks to (re-)watch Battle Star Galactica and I'd decided to join them yesterday evening.

As is common when all of us meet up, we all decide to order take out. This time, we ordered from a burger place called Moses. I've been told it's a good place. I wouldn't know as the only things I eat that used to be alive are fish and sea food.
They have a veggiburger, called "Missouri" which on paper looked decent enough, though the only really good veggiburger I ever had was about three years ago from a burger place called Black - they call their veggiburger "Bridget Bardot". I like that.

Any way, the food was ordered.

I'd had no idea the burger I ordered was a "health" sandwich.

Woe was I.

The bun was not a nice fluffy white bread bun, oh no, it was a brown whole wheat (which can be nice, damnit!) bun. When I bit into the burger I couldn't tell the difference between the burger and the bread. They were the same colour and texture. Yes, really. I added some mayo and tomato sauce and took a bit sans bun (it was gross) and while there was a slight improvement, it was still not edible enough.

I grumbled. There was much bitterness.

One of my meat eating friends took a bite and said "I really can't taste any difference between this and the cardboard it came in".

I ate the chips and some of the mashed potatoes that someone else had ordered. There was also chocolate cake, which should have cheered me up, but merely mocked me. Yes, the chocolate mocked me, I kid you not.

I declared "we are no longer ordering from "Moses" or indeed any other burger place when I with you!"

They grumbled, but said "fine".

Thus my rights as a minority prevailed.

We also renamed that burger "Misery".
We are a punny bunch.
eumelia: (omg lesbians!)
A little back story to this anecdote. I hang out with a certain a couple of girls on campus, they are a few years younger than I, due to this and my own youthful appearance people sometime mistake me for being a few younger than my actual 25 years of age.

The story begins thus. There is a guy I and the aforementioned girls know. He's a bit rough around the edges and delights in being rude. I've managed, by rule of my iron fist, to cease his borderline offensive behaviour and he ends up pretty entertaining otherwise.

This week I was hanging out on campus with him sans the other girls. We were talking about this and that and the conversation turned serious and we began discussing the fact that we are both students of the Humanities without much skills. I mentioned I was planning on doing Library Studies at some point and said:
"I'm dreading the Statistics I have to learn!"

He replies: "Nah, statistics is easy"

I say: "No, no it's not. I matriculated with the lowest amounts of points I could with math so that I could get a good grade... seven years ago!"

He looks surprised: "What, you're 25?!"

I think he's silly: "Yeah and you're 26, how old did you think I was!?"

He says, slightly embarrassed: "I thought you were the same age as [the aforementioned younger girls]".

I reply jokingly*: "Didn't you ever wonder why I was more mature than them?"

He says, utterly seriously: "I thought it was because you're a Lesbian".

Many LOLZ!

Yay Pride!

* Tinged with ageism. Guilty.
eumelia: (Default)
I had to get up obscenely early this morning, because I had a class at 8:30 (yay! no more waking up at 6 am in order to catch the train!).

Opposite me in the booth, a really pretty girl (as in young woman, my age-ish, probably a little younger) began to put on her face.
When I say "face", I mean it.

The art of putting on make up is one I'd never really mastered, I'm lucky if I remember to pluck and tidy up my curly eye brows. But watching her, I was so impressed by the whole process of it.

She started with blush. Compared to me, she had a dark completion, and from a pretty cocoa it suddenly became bronze. I had my sunglasses on, so she couldn't see me watch her, but I couldn't stop looking.

It was simply a gorgeous process to behold.

After she finished with the blush, she took out silvery-white eye-shadow, her big brown eyes suddenly looked huge and watery. As though they were shining from the inside. She took out her mascara and her lashes framed her eye, her eye lids looked like a flower petals.

She finished off by adding just a touch of red, cherry chap-stick, to her lips, creating a dark contra to the sparkle of her eyes.

She fluffed her hair and was about to pick up the news paper when I removed my glasses and looked straight at her;
"Before you start reading, I just wanted to say that you're really beautiful and the whole process you did was gorgeous as well. I know this sounds weird, but I just had to tell you" I said.

She looked shocked for a moment (well, strangers on a train aren't supposed to talk about your make-up!), but then she grinned at me, her mouth stretching, her eyes crinkled and she said though her huge smile: "Thank you so much".

Two people had a good start to the day.

I just thought I'd share and tell this, because it's so rare that we acknowledge all the hard work we put into being in public, showing a face to the world. Make-up or not, it's worth noting and talking about.
eumelia: (Default)
I was sitting at the bus station minding my own business.

A man of about 50-55 comes towards me and asks if it's all right if he smokes. I thought it was very (see, overly, for the society we live in) polite of him to ask and said "sure".

This was quite obviously a ploy.

He begins to tell me a story.

"I just couldn't sit at the other bus station. There was a girl there; dressed far too revealingly for me, her chest hanging out and short pants".

I'm staring at him as though he's grown an extra head. Instead his beard, peyot, kipah (yarmulke/skull cap) and tzitzit become glaringly obvious props for his forthcoming tale and story.

In my head, I'm screaming: "Why? Why is this man talking to me and regaling to me this bullshit story!?"

He continues (sans my loud thoughts that this man is a religious nut): "I ask [the aforementioned girl] do you believe in G-d?"

In my mind: "Mercy!"

He tells her words: "'Yes' she says and I ask you [that is, me and the universe in general most likely] if she's have said 'yes, but I sin', I could live with that... But dressed the way she is... how can she say that!?".

Meanwhile, I'm trying to understand why this woman (if she indeed exists outside this man's narrative) engaged with this man, seeing as I was doing my best to Not Engage with this person and his irrational tirade about how this woman's dress somehow marks her heretic - obviously I'm the best audience ever! What with my long jeans, trainers, long-sleeved shirt and high necked top underneath it.
If only we were telepathic, nay?

He goes: "She tells me her beliefs are simple. How can creation be simple?!"

How I wished I had a desk on which to bash my head and his continuously!

Throughout this entire time I'm dying for a bus, any bus to arrive to take one of us away! I'm also silent, grimacing from time to time and keeping away from him as much as possible while not leaving the bus stop - I really did not feel safe enough to tell to STFU... perhaps if there was another person there I would have told him to stop bothering me... but *Gah*, the situation just really did not encourage aggressive-aggression and I went for body-language instead.

"Creation can't be simple" this man says, "I tell her [still this very-well-could-be-fictional-girl] 'that table? You see it? Someone designed it, yes?' she replied 'yes'. So no tell me G-d doesn't exist!"

I was ready to throw up on him. I had been feeling queasy regardless, but I could have blown chunks over this.

He continued with this line of talk and thought for a good ten minutes, in addition going on to inform me that the Bible predicted Swine 'flu (o_O) and that according to Rabbi What-ever-the-fuck 14,5-and something are going to die because that's the Gimatric interpretation of the Hebrew letters of Swine 'flu (which are שפעת חזירים).

I actaully breathed a sigh of relief when his bus arrived and he was out of my life.

It was just too odd. I don't think I'd ever been proselytised to before. Obviously him asking me if he could smoke was a ploy to start engaging me in conversation.
Good tactic.

I now have a funny anecdote about Jewish fundamentalists... who are so different from all the other ones you encounter in the street (much to our annoyance)

Off Topic, but related to the fact that I'm home and talking about this.
I'm feeling queasy and at the last minute decided not to go the talk tonight, because I'd rather not be sick in front of people.
I'm disappointed, but hopefully I'll be able to catch the DAM people at a later date during their visit in the region.
eumelia: (Default)
Due to Torchwood and the discussion regarding Homophobia that spread over fandom on-line, I've mentioned a few times the term "casual homophobia", I got a mentioning of the phenomenon as well.

Seeing as I had a brush with it yesterday and it being in the forefront of my mind, I thought I'd share the anecdote with you my dear readers and hear what y'all had to say about it.

Yesterday I went to visit my friend N, who has been ill lately and her Boyfriend was there, taking care of her, making lunch, etc.

He hung out in the living room and we hung out in her bedroom.

She'd been telling me about this guy for a month now and I was looking forward to meeting him as she hasn't sounded this enthusiastic about a boy in a while.

Anyway as we sat in her room she we chatted and she said that he's one of the most open minded people she'd ever met. Like myself, queer or not, the majority of my friends are what can be commonly called "Outsiders".
So him being an Outsider and open-minded (things that are not mutually exclusive mind you) sounded like a good deal to me.

He made chicken soup for N and himself, fried some rice for me, sans chicken to cater to my vegetarian self, the small talk was flowing and very comfortable, he asked me what I do (student of Lit and, Gender and Women' Studies, which he asked about and seemed to grasp very quickly and didn't make any jokes about "Men's Studies" which was refreshing as well) he didn't bat an eyelash when I mentioned [Southern!Girl].
All very charming and domestic.
It was fun.

Eventually due to her being quite sickly (poor thing!) N fell asleep and I was getting ready to go, seeing as she had fallen asleep and her boy needed to study.
As I was gathering my stuff, her boy asked, casually, "Are you a Lesbian?"

You know how you automatically stiffen and you feel your tummy drop a bit when you perceive a threat? My body did that, but just as quickly I relaxed again, because I'd been hanging out with his nice guy for over an hour and replied, just as casually, "No, I'm Bi, I just seem Gay" and we had a chuckle.

Now I cannot give you a word for word record of the conversation that went down, because it was quite long and eventually went in circles.

It turns out this boy has never met a gay man that he got along with. They are all aggressive, provocative and if they wouldn't be shoving their identity in his face if they were so Proud of it.

Oy oy oy.
I say again, oy oy oy.

So much to unpack and break down, so little time.

The discussion as to why what he said was homophobic and why I am using such a "strong term" like homophobia went on for a good 40 minutes.
It was civil.
I kept my cool despite wanting to tear my (his) hair out.

N eventually woke up and came out of her bedroom and was happy to hear us talking and getting along. Her boy sarcastically said, "We were just discussing the weather".
Which made us all chuckle.
N said she's always happy when her friends get along, to which a tsk and she replied: "Well you get along with everyone".
And I do, much to my dismay at times.

I'm not afraid of confrontation as 40 minutes of "civil discussion" should indicate. But unlike with my family (and very-very close chosen-family-type-friends) who I believe should know better than to say certain things, I find myself infinitely fucking patient with strangers when it comes to difference in opinion that have political ramifications in real life.

The thing is, nothing he was saying was hateful. He wasn't saying that gay men were perverted, disgusting, that they need to be "fixed" or have violence committed upon them for being who they are.
What he was saying that the queer was putting a cramp on his default identity, which fully admitted to having when I explained to him what I meant by "default identity".

It's casual and no real harm is meant by it, but it's endemic and it hurts and makes seemingly safe spaces appear unsafe.

He's a very charming nice guy and he treats N well and they seem very happy together which makes me very happy for her.
I think I'll just be asking him if he's managed to rise above his straightness and find any gays with whom he's gotten along with.

I'd like to add that this is not an invitation for people to bash the people I've (anonymously) mentioned in this post. As usual any comment in welcome, anonymous ones are always automatically screened.
eumelia: (Default)
A Butch
It's starts like a joke you'd tell in a Dyke bar, except it happened in my dad's Pharmacy.
So this Butch walks into a shop... )

A Clueless Teen
What has become of Israel sex-ed program.

The other day a kid, no older that 16 or 17 walked into the pharmacy and asked to by the Morning After Pill (which is sold over the counter, no need for a script and it's known as Postinor) and I in my mind I was going; Buy some condoms. Eventually... he did )

J-Lem Pride
It was, in fact, quite uneventful, thanks to the heat (probably).
On the way to the park in which we assembled I saw some Religious Nuts with signs that said things like: "Abomination" and "Go Straight, for Family's Sake", but they weren't allowed to come into the park.
And that was pretty much it.
No, not really )
We've still got a long way to go.

[ profile] nurint met up with us after, which was great fun, as she actually lives in J-Lem and took us to a great restaurant and showed us around the City Centre.
She then carted us to our respective places, which was so great of her.
Thank you my friend!

All in all.
Pretty good week, despite not spending enough time with [Southern!Girl].
But that we can rectify.

(1)This lecturer has often spoken about Butch identity and the fact that she's never felt as anything other than a Butch Lesbian Woman... so I felt confident is saying that to that asshole guy.
eumelia: (Default)
Matzah and Humous... best. Combo. Ever.

Every year I forget how much fun it is to eat gooey things on the crunchiness of Matzah. Luckily, it's only for a week.

Tuesday night [Southern!Girl] arrived to spend the "Holy" days with me (and my entire family); thinking about it now, I'm not sure how she didn't explode/implode of the stress - well, she was tense, but we very happily worked on that...

The actual day of the Seder - Erev Pesach (Passover Eve, I guess) - Mummy sent [Southern!Girl] and I to buy some last minute things before all the stores closed early for the holiday and wouldn't actually open again until Friday. It was really fun just going for a walk, talking and spending quality time with her, as usual.

My sister and her family (the Jerusalem contingent) came down for the majority of the week and it was seriously fun to hang out with everyone despite the pre-Seder craziness.
Cut for Length )

Tradition is a funny thing in my family, we're very irreligious on the whole, and I think it is beginning to slip away from us as I've never heard any of the kids mention "God" except in the mythological sense, so I think the older members of my family (i.e. everyone but me and my nevvies) have a great stake at keeping tradition as close to their own childhood memories.

For myself, I wouldn't mind to see some acknowledgement that things aren't the same and that they are dynamic and changing and that we really don't need to keep the Hagadah and whole Seder patriarchal parochial dated traditional.

[Southern!Girl] stayed until Friday morning and it was Good.

We will meet up again over the week.
So far, it's been a very good one.

A question for discussion if you please, what do you think of tradition?
eumelia: (Default)
Every country and nation has little moments in which you proclaim "Only in [name of country]!".

I came upon a moment like that yesterday on my home on my regular mode of public transportation. Now, lots of things make me go "Only in Israel", but this incident was seriously unique.

I'm sitting and a few rows in the back I hear a guy speak to his buddy on his cellphone. He was crystal clear and I couldn't miss a word.
Here is what he said, translated from Hebrew to English for your benefit:

"Hey man [other person on the phone], I saw Waltz with Bashir last night. And guess what, one of the soldiers that was interviewed was my Commanding Officer when I was in the Army.

My eyes fell out of my face.
He continued:

The movie doesn't make us look good. But it was powerful and seeing my CO there got me to be even more connected

This country is seriously small and screwed up.

It's an interesting coincidence that on the same day that I had this Overheard on Israeli public transport that the social activism channel Social TV (YouTube Channel) broadcast the second edition of their magazine In an Occupying Society, which is a ten minute podcast of interviews in which Left, anti-Occupation, Feminist, etc activists talk about the Occupation from various perspectives, from the Israeli side, in an attempt to raise awareness as to what the Occupation is costing Israeli society.

This month's edition is about Militarism and it connects so well with what I overheard on the train.
The video is in Hebrew with English subtitles.

Last month's edition was the economic cost of the Occupation: Part 1 and Part 2.
eumelia: (bollocks)
I don't understand the concept of political correctness.

I understand the concept of non-prejudicial language.

I understand the concept of respecting other people.

I don't understand why people don't get either of those two concepts and accuse me of being "Politically Correct" as though I'm trying to censor what they say and what they think.

Is it seriously so difficult for people not to say something that is offensive to another person?

And in any event, why is it called Political Correctness when in reality it is basic politeness?

There seems to be this notion that people, as a general rule, do in fact spout whatever they like and are completely filter-less when it comes to language.

My mother, who is a teacher, threw a kid out of her class the other day because he said that there was an "Arab Smell" in the classroom.
I mean, for fuck's sake.
Would you say that my mother was wrong for punishing a child for saying something like that?
And if he had said there was a "Fucking Smell"? (which could happen, Mummy teaches English the language to 14-15 year old kids).
She's probably throw the kid out all the same.
Disrespectful language in a public forum.

Is what she did censorship?

Well you could say that in the hierarchical set-up of a school, the kids really do have no say when it comes to freedom of speech and all that.
So yeah, that's my mother's prerogative to discipline the class room.

But when you're talking with people in the aforementioned public forum.
How does that work then?
I don't really have the prerogative of discipline the masses.
I do think it is everyone's duty, as social people, to be aware of the effect and affect of language on other people's lives.

Is that difficult?

I know that in Israel it is, there is a culture of "telling it straight", "what you see is what you get" and very frank discussion on race (and in some circles sex of various kinds).
The other day I was at my regular falafel place which is run by a family of Mizrahi Jews (specifically of Yemeni heritage) and I was saying that I love the spices they've added to the falafel and [Proprietor] smiled at me and said "Thanks, most people from Africa like the hot stuff".
I laughed because he knows my family is South African and I said "Yeah, well you wouldn't know with the way my family eats... they don't all go for the hot stuff... You know us Europeans"
"Yeah, well you don't count you were born here"
"I guess so" I replied.
"Where's your family originally from?" he asked.
I said we were Lithuanian, Latvian, Polish, generic Eastern-European.
And he said "Yeah, I though you guys were Russian when I first met you".

Only in Israel.

Oy my point drifted away.
Ah yes.
And how Political Correctness is a myth.
You're either respectful (which isn't synonymous with polite) or you're not.
As a general rule we don't say everything we think right at that moment, it goes through a filter and is arranged to make sense in our mouths, or on a page, or on a website.

As a result, if someone accuses you of "Political Correctness" ask them if they find it difficult to not say "You mouther-fucking bitch cunt!"?.
When you could have easily said "You fucking moron!".
If you're going to insult my intellect, don't make it about my "female brain".
Seems harsh, don't it?
eumelia: (bollocks)
My tolerance for people has never been particularly high. I'm very picky about the people I'm willing to be friends with and I unfortunately tend to form strong opinions very quickly, so if someone said, done or have an attitude that grates me... I'm afraid it would take a hell of a lot to make me consider that someone worth any kind of positivity from me.

The one kind of attitude I can't fucking stand, really, it pisses me off beyond grating, is the "I'm so speshul" attitude.

A small disclaimer; I have my own incidences in which I'm completely narcissistic and think I'm the best thing that ever happened. This is a normal thing for people who know they're smart, I think.
But when [editorial] you are only saying something in a class discussion that isn't in aid of putting forth a standpoint, but in fact to put yourself in the spot light, you're an ass.
No, really.
You are.
I'm sorry I'm being vague, but I dislike demonizing particular people on the Internet, especially since I'm not locking this post as it's actually something worth talking about.

In a class forum, especially in a class in which sexuality and gender identity is on the table (it being a Queer Theory class), your own individual personal sexuality isn't what's being discussed.
It's one thing and a very good thing, to say out loud, that the discussion is excluding certain sexualities and identities (e.g. bisexuality and genderqueer). It's another to say that it affects you personally.
No, sorry, that's someone with an attitude problem.
And I may sound harsh, but I cannot stand it when people decide to use a class forum to show off their "spedhulness".
It's neither the time nor the place.
You want to talk about your own sexuality, there are breaks and after-class discussions. I mean, c'mon, we're a bunch of intellectual queers... this is what we do.
It rubs me the wrong way.
I (try to) participate in classes. I have things to say. I try to make them a standpoint and not a "personal opinion" or a "personal issue" mainly because, every word I say is ideological and very obviously a "personal" thing, unless I'm very specifically playing Devil's Advocate - but that's a whole different kettle of fish (where does that saying come from).

There are certain types of "speshul" people.
Not just the type described above.

There's also the type that feels the need to tell you, that because they like something in a certain way, then liking that same something in a different way is wrong.
For example, I was talking to this person about Alan Moore and how I'm really pre-supposed to hating the new "Watchmen" movie, mainly because I hate, despise Zack Snyder.
Hate. That. Director.
A lot.
Aesthetics mean a lot... but not enough to cover up the badness and complete lack of directorial abilities.
But I digress.
Any way, this person totally agrees and inside I'm all "yay, Moore fan!" and then he says "I really hated the Vendetta movie as well".
And I was like "What? How come? I mean, it was a very cute adaptation? Wachowski Sibs!"
He goes: "It completely butchered the meaning of the book, which is one of the few works that managed to show Anarchy as interesting".
(I refrain from bringing up "The Dispossessed" by Ursula K. Le Guin).
I say: "I enjoyed it and..." before I can finish my thought about the movie making it's own statement about freedom, government and other things like that, he interrupts and says:
"I guess I'm more of a political hard-liner than you"

What is with people?
Do you know me? I think not. I'll tell you something, I now know this guy a hell of a lot better now than before and I hope the hostility I transmit reaches him loud and clear.

People are people, I know.
And I can understand how misanthropy develops and becomes ones default position when it comes to interaction with others.
I really hope I retain my love for humanity for a little bit longer, despite the fact that I'm encountering these characters.
eumelia: (Default)
Objectivism is the epistemological equivalent of "My eyes are closed you can't see me because I can't see you".
But I digress.

I went to the Randroid fan club on Wedensday night with the expectation that I'd be amused.
I wasn't.
I felt sorry for the guy (to be known from now on as [Ranroid!Boy]) who decided to open this "philosophical discussion club" and was didactidly lecturing (much like Rand did in her books) on the basics of Objectivist thought.
I found myself both bored and irritated when my attmpts at explaining the Linguistic Turn didn't go so well... or at all. [Randroid!Boy] was ignoring my terrible "relativist" ways.

The guy was insidiously benign. He told us he discovered Rand in his twenties! He must live a really sheltered life.
Nothing he was saying could actually be pin pointedly seen as bad.
He spoke about the "tennents of Objectivism", the whole man as a heroic figure and the not living for anyone else or asking anyone to live for me.
But rand didn't invent that, nor did she perfect anything, she merely made fascist aesthetics into uber-individualism and too the idea of Nietzsche's Übermensch and positioned it into her economic ideal of Capitalism.
Never mind that Randroids ignore the fact that there are life circumstances that create different life experiences and that you cannot remove them from your own identity.

[Randroid!Boy] didn't get into the supremacy idea, something that many Objectivists seem to forget. The belief that if I just do whatever is good for Me and that that is the best thing completley negates the liberty of other people.
It doesn't matter that you say "everyone else is free to do the same".
Because we are social animals, no matter how terribly we treat each other, there is a need for relationships and inter-relation.

The most ridiculous thing that was mentioned in this little fan club meeting: someone (not me) tried to make a point that not everyone is in a position to think about free will (which is imperative in Randian thought and probably the biggest hole in what is already a swiss cheese system of philosophy) and are able to only think about survival, like a starving child in Africa (actual example used, by the way... not say... a starving child in Gaza... we like to keep things academic). [Randroid!Boy] used that as an example to "prove" the argument as selfishness as an ideal, one does everything to save themselves first.
I was shocked.
I shouldn't have been.
But c'mon!
There are forces that create circumstances that lead to that child's starvation people!
What the hell is wrong with these people?!

Two actually funny things that kind of disproved [Randroid!Boy]'s entire standing of living an Objectivist life were these:
1) He asked peope not to be late.
Zing! You lose... how dare you impose your own time table on others! What, you expect them to do something for you!
2) He took into account people's abilities.
Zing! You lose again... what abilities are these? You are either a hero or you aren't. If you aren't you're not a human and are of no consequence, etc. etc. etc.
Logical Fallacy!

Anyway, I'll not be going back, of course. There were only 15 or so people and I know of one other person who will not be going back... hopefully this little club will wallow and die.

Oh artists and graphically astute people: would one of you be kind and generous enough to take the philosophical thought written below and icon-ise it with a an actual "Calvin and Hobbes" cartoon?

Calvinian-Hobbesianism: A relationship that is based on the knowledge that reality is a direct product of interaction with imagination.

Thank you in advance!
eumelia: (Default)
Dear Ladies, Gents and Others in the Supermarket,

Mind your own fucking business!


The grrl who was doing as her Mother asked and really wasn't looking for any input from you.

I mean, really.
There I am minding my own business putting olives into a plastic container from the buffet like counter where you can put as many condiments as you like in the aforementioned containers. Mother Unit asked me to cover the olives in the water.
I do so.
And as I put the container in the cart I am bombarded by one of the workers behind the meat counter telling me that I should put the water in a different container so I don't have to pay the extra weight.
I stare blankly completely surprised to be spoken to in this situation - going to the Supermarket is one of the most anti-social phenomena in real life I feel - and mumble about doing what my mother asked me to.
And then, then other shoppers around me began to tell me to do the same thing and someone asked who my mother was!

Fucking hell.

I shot out of that aisle like something on wheels.
Mother Unit was a little past me and gave me a look of total puzzlement.
Moi: Who are these Nosey People?
MU: I don't know. Who cares if I want to pay extra for the water!?
Moi: They scared me.
Mu: Poor baby.

I hate going to the Supermarket.
It's one of those places that really brings out the worst in Humanity.
eumelia: (Default)
I come from a family of such weirdos.

A paranoid argument about Chinses economic domination, as though it would have any effect on our culture other than consumption.

The words "Occidental" and "Domination" came up a few times.

Double standard much.

To me it's just proof at the invidiousness of Capitalism and White-Supremacy.

And to think that just a few decades ago this same Occidental culture tried to exterminate us.

How fickle we are.
eumelia: (Default)
I recently saw a documentary about the word "slut", it's meanings etymological, social, political, personal etc.

Personally, I don't think I've ever been called a slut. If I was it was never to my face and kept secret from me.

It got me thinking though, of the pejoratives I had been called throughout my life and quite a large amount of High School Nostalgia.

Here's a list off the top of my head (with Hebrew as well, as I grew up and live in a non-English speaking environment):

כלבה - Bitch
פריקית - Freak
פוסטמה - slang for annoying or stupid female
לזבית - Lesbian (more like Dyke... in a bad way)
רעה - Mean or Bad
מכשפה - Witch (though oddly, not during my Wicca phase... funny how these things work).
חכמולוגית - Smart-ass
דפוקה - Fucked up
חצופה - Cheeky
נודניקית - Nag
כוסית - the word כוס is cunt, but the word is slang for an attractive woman, you can often hear it being hurled at you in the street, or spoken complementarity by your friends. I hate the word regardless as I'd rather not be referred to as a vagina... if someone is using the word near me I hope they're talking anatomy and not personality (or lack thereof).

In any event, the word I heard most, since I was 12 has been Bitch and it's varieties - the first time someone called me Klafta - קלעפטאה which is Yiddish for "Bitch" I burst out laughing.

Bitch is a word I like.
I've come to take pride in it, I heard it so much growing up I couldn't help but embrace it - if being called that name meant I wasn't teased and harassed every day then good, ya know.

Looking back on growing up, I can see a trend of boys being interested in me, romantically, sexually, whatever and I never noticed. Only in hindsight do I see that these obnoxious, irritating, self-entitled boys were hitting on me, coming on to me.
I mean, I thought most girls responded to that because they were dumb, not because that was the social cue of the day.
Which is still dumb - not the girls who followed the cue, the cue itself.
I was such a loner and self-involved that I'd missed the days where girls and boys were taught that language called "adolescent courtship" which I always interpreted as "stupid boys harassing me".

An anecdote:
Cut for marginally entertaining high school drama with yours truly as protagonist )

One of the things I've come to realise is that I wasn't alone. I wasn't the only one harassed and hassled in high school. For being a weird girl, a Loner girl and all that.
And looking back on that, I have to say that without the word "Bitch", I probably wouldn't be the Grrl I am today.
So this isn't a pity-party, it's a "hmmmm, memories of a shitty adolescence" party!

I any event, I embraced the title of Bitch and carried it over to my Army service where it served me quite well. After I was discharged I toned it down, though I'm told that I'm quite aggressive still (abrasive and having "an attitude", as my family at times informs me), so I feel I live up to "Bitch".

*sigh* While hellish at the time, nostalgically High School had some good times. Though I'd slice off my nose if I had to do it again.


eumelia: (Default)

June 2015

 12345 6

V and Justice

V: Ah, I was forgetting that we are not properly introduced. I do not have a name. You can call me V. Madam Justice...this is V. V... this is Madam Justice. hello, Madam Justice.

Justice: Good evening, V.

V: There. Now we know each other. Actually, I've been a fan of yours for quite some time. Oh, I know what you're thinking...

Justice: The poor boy has a crush on adolescent fatuation.

V: I beg your pardon, Madam. It isn't like that at all. I've long admired you...albeit only from a distance. I used to stare at you from the streets below when I was a child. I'd say to my father, "Who is that lady?" And he'd say "That's Madam Justice." And I'd say "Isn't she pretty."

V: Please don't think it was merely physical. I know you're not that sort of girl. No, I loved you as a person. As an ideal.

Justice: What? V! For shame! You have betrayed me for some harlot, some vain and pouting hussy with painted lips and a knowing smile!

V: I, Madam? I beg to differ! It was your infidelity that drove me to her arms!

V: Ah-ha! That surprised you, didn't it? You thought I didn't know about your little fling. But I do. I know everything! Frankly, I wasn't surprised when I found out. You always did have an eye for a man in uniform.

Justice: Uniform? Why I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. It was always you, V. You were the only one...

V: Liar! Slut! Whore! Deny that you let him have his way with you, him with his armbands and jackboots!

V: Well? Cat got your tongue? I though as much.

V: Very well. So you stand revealed at last. you are no longer my justice. You are his justice now. You have bedded another.

Justice: Sob! Choke! Wh-who is she, V? What is her name?

V: Her name is Anarchy. And she has taught me more as a mistress than you ever did! She has taught me that justice is meaningless without freedom. She is honest. She makes no promises and breaks none. Unlike you, Jezebel. I used to wonder why you could never look me in the eye. Now I know. So good bye, dear lady. I would be saddened by our parting even now, save that you are no longer the woman I once loved.


-"V for Vendetta"


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