another reason for buffy

A New York Times article on how bullying starts young young young young young these days or maybe always.

I felt vindicated when they cite shows like Hannah Montana, that have extremely self-centered protagonists, as having a negative effect on young girls. However, they compare Montana to Brady Bunch girls which is a little ridiculous. Why not Buffy?

  
Also, an interesting article about how women are treated in France. In the article they point to  the World Economic's 2010 Forum ("world economic's" links to a description of the forum, "2010 forum" to an article about the 2010 forum) that says France has fallen from 18th place to 46th place and now ranks behind Kazakhstan in gender equality. But I've been reading up on the World Economic Forum and it ranks countries by how much they've progressed or digressed in the past year. Alors, it seems the forum compares progress and not the actual standard of equality. And France fell in ranking because "of the departure this year of several high-ranking women from the government of President Nicolas Sarkozy." That being said, it doesn't seem terribly appealing to be a woman in France, even if it is France*.

And don't think I want to make career women out of us all, one woman says she quit her job to be a stay at home mom and she feels pressured to by (French) society to go back to work.

Oh and please don't leave any comments with lame jokes about how French people are stupid (unless you're one of the five Monty Pythoners–Gilliam is from the US and therefore has to abide by the same rules I've set for everyone else. Then I would have to say that I don't really understand why you're reading my blog. Go away). Those jokes are so old, widen your repertoire.

And note, the U.S. only recently broke the top 20 and is now above Canada but behind Latvia. I am currently looking for the actual Forum report because, well, newspaper articles interpret what they want. At this point you might point out how I could be in the wrong about the Hanna Montana genre of tv shows for this same reason but then I would have to touché you back by saying it's what I want to hear so it works for me.

and more from the Buffy side:





*My number one reason for saying no when someone asks me, "don't you wish you were alive back in such and such a day and age," is because I want to stay in a time period where I've got more rights.

i don't think i'll be going swimming in the morning as i'm obviously not falling asleep now

I usually pray over my food. This can easily be a perfunctory act but lately it actually makes me feel better. Because without my acts of religiosity I am left with my feminism, my democratic and anarchic leanings, and my existentialist novels. Things can get highly unbalanced or stereotypical (especially when I'm wearing a boxy, corduroy blazer).

Sometimes the part of me that prays is my blue collar worker side. Not always, not exclusively, but frequently it's the assembly line/shipyard/house keeper inside of me. There are times when I'm tired of trying to find every answer and I just want to live life. And so I pray. Maybe you're not following how the one leads to the other. It's for the same reason that one afternoon a few years ago I sat down at my desk thinking, "Wait...I'm actually not convinced that God exists," which would make my philosophy of the purpose of life null and void– at that moment when I was falling into a black hole, I got up and took a shower. Because what else is a person supposed to do?

The one follows the other because I can only take so much of trying to reconcile the world. I can only handle so much of imperialism, Freud, cut-throat insurance companies, cancer, abuse, and oppression. At that point I have to take a break, pull out my lunch and pray over my food.

I use this prayer-time to think of the food in my lap as a gift from the earth, I try to be sufficiently grateful and remember to take only what I need...


Good heavens, I'm in a waxing serious streak. I need to start making fun of myself more. And yes, I have watched quite a few No Doubt music vids on youtube today.

This also maybe be how I'm spending these sleepless hours: http://www.ornettecoleman.com/ (run your mouse over the colored triangles) 

Funch

Interestingly enough*, Dear C and I were lunching today (because nobody spends their afternoons playing cops and robbers anymore. We all job and work and school in our afternoons. Lunch. We all do lunch. Fun lunch, aka: Funch) and we talked about how even we feminists (we're both strong and devotedly feminist and maninist) who are wildly amazing and independent and accomplished find ourselves quickly falling into being the adoring significant other. Not that adoring isn't bad, but it is when you slip out of being you and having your life and there's something precious that you compromise and you lose.

What is it that I lose? What's that word for what it is? I'm not talking about virginity or something physical like that. There's no wall of Jericho that comes tumbling down, there's no boundary that is crossed, no rules that are broken, it's an essence that slips through my fingers and leaves that gross feeling afterwards.

It is somehow related to the times when I'm interested in someone and my mind gets fogged up so that when he calls me and asks me to spend the evening with him I say yes and forget that I have friends and deadlines and to do lists and personal wishes.

I feel silly even trying to write about it because...I've found no words. Is there scientific proof that says we don't always think in words? Because I find always find myself struggling as I delve at cliffs of thoughts or maybe it's not like digging granite out of a quarry but more like clay. Sly smooth cool clay.

Oh dear, I'm still talking. Typing, I mean. And does the meaning come out? Hmmm...

Also, it turns out that I'm not the only one struggling from terrible dreams. I was watching my cousin's five year old, Dear Monstruo Uno, and the neighbor boy we were playing with noticed my earrings one day.

"Are those spiderwebs on your ears?"

"No, they're dream catchers."

"What are those?"

The conversation stuck with Monstruo Uno who asked my cousin for one to keep his nightmares away. She tried to explain...well, anyway, if you've been to a family dinner you can imagine how something so simple ended up involving P Diddy and God and cultural insensitivity and distinguishing the differences between Spanish cuisine and Mexican cuisine. So no dream catcher. And I don't have one either, really (a dream catcher).

I started thinking about the discussions I've had with people about my dreams. What I really wish could happen is that what Friend R--I sound communist, let's just call him Comrade R. Comrade R suggested imagining a beautiful mythical bird. Actually it was more simple when he was describing it and more beautiful. I should have written it down. But it was that tactic that people always suggest, put something into your dream, something good, to save you from the nightmarish parts. It's never worked form me in fact they turn out worse because then something good is ruined. But all the same, I'd like to explain this magical little trick to my dear Monstruo Uno because maybe it will work for him. And maybe if I imagine it will work for him it will work for me.

*I decided in trying to write a reply to a seven page letter from someone in Denmark that it is sometimes better to start as if you're in the middle of the conversation.