You are viewing ihvpave

Caught Between Pearls and Pyramid Spikes
See, Do, Shop, Read buy me shit, spoil me stupider ... OOOh. Smell Me. I'm Yummy ... Sock Slut ... Better than CNN ... GRRL Power ... Receipts for Wee Foods ... Wash yer butt with LUSH ... Get Yer Lycopene ... BoxedLunch! ... Miss Doxie ... Killers Rule ... LOLspace ... Books with Faces June 2012
 
 
 
 
 
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Thursday, December 31st, 2037 11:30 am

Goodbye, Grandaddy.

Paul F. Haigler, Jr
25 July, 1927 - 20 January 2008
of Orangeburg, SC
Southern Gentleman

I love you always

Tags: ,

Share

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Thursday, December 31st, 2037 11:26 am


Marion Humphries Thomas Wright
Artist, Musician, Lady
5 May 1923 - 30 July 2006 (12.36 am)
My hero and role model for a life well-lived

Tags:

5CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Friday, June 29th, 2012 04:21 pm


Tags: , ,

11CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Wednesday, July 27th, 2011 03:36 pm
Local folks, from Penny (Tremont, Milestone, DISH):

Anyone that went to Tremont should remember Roadie, the female security person that was there for almost 10 years. She died last week at the age of 36. The Tremont Family will hold a memorial on Sunday, Aug 7th, from 5-7 pm at the Music Hall. All those wishing to attend or participate are welcome.

I have no further information, but thought some of you might like to know.

Tags:

2CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Wednesday, June 8th, 2011 12:56 pm

I actually had a pretty decent post written, when I somehow managed to erase the whole thing as it was autosaving a blank screen. Awesome.

In other news, yesterday I failed at the internet when I knowingly and willfully disagreed with a popular opinion whilst perusing The Book of Faces, leading to what could've been an interesting discussion, if anyone was interested in actual facts (and not just knee jerk reactions). The topic? Florida's recent executive order to do drug tests on welfare recipients. The post:
Florida is the first state that will require drug testing when applying for welfare (effective July 1st)! Some people are crying this is unconstitutional. How is this unconstitutional yet it's okay that every working person had to pass a drug test in order to support those on welfare? Re-post if you… agree!!! Let's get Welfare back to the one's who NEED it, not those that just WANT it

*sigh*

First thing? It doesn't work.

Second thing: companies are private enterprise, and are allowed to have specific conditions on which they base hiring considerations - whereas social assistance programs are governmental programs, which requires (at least, in theory) probable cause to require testing. Requiring assistance in and of itself does not constitute probable cause.

Third thing, as articulated by Boogery Brudder: "You guys? You receive no benefits from the State beyond the (theoretical) benefits of citizenship itself, so you can do these drugs. Except doing them or even possessing them, well, that's illegal, so you can't. But you guys? Yeah, you guys receive additional benefits from the State so you guys can't do these drugs. Except you can't already because they're already illegal. We'll just consider them extra illegal for you... OK, wait... No, everyone who receives benefits from the State must be drug free because it's not fair for taxes to support drug use especially since we spend so much tax revenue in a futile attempt to fight drugs so... Umm... OK, every citizen benefits from police and military protection, so every citizen must submit to drug testing, and if you fail your drug test, then you lose your police protection, and... Wait... Err... OK, this is fucked..."

Fourth thing: Beyond all of THAT: any case worker should be able to tell if a recipient is abusing the system. Funds would be better spent increasing workers in the agencies responsible, increasing their training and education, and reducing their case loads. An overworked social care employee does no one any good, and is a major drain on the system in and of itself. But increasing in those areas requires funding - reducing strain on the welfare system requires an increase in funding to other sectors and real solutions instead of knee-jerk, high-publicity actions. All of which comes from increasing funding - and therefore taxes, which is why no one wants to talk about those options, but prefer to bandy about a faulty solution that is less expensive and significantly less effective.

So there was that.

I really liked, though, how when I said that I have a fundamental problem with the proposal on a number of fronts, I was immediately asked:
1) what I smoked today
2) how long I've been on assistance
3) why my head is so far up my ass
4) why I think only the working and upper classes should be subject to accountability (which: WHAT? I'm pretty sure a hard-working broker, banker, or lawyer has no problem taking drugs, so the actual question should be why are they more exempt?)

I love America. It is a constant source of amusement.
---------------------------------


In other news: My hair has gotten pretty damned long. And not just in the "Pave feels like her hair is long, but really, it's still pretty short" kind of way - in the actual "holy shit, your hair got LONG" kinda way. It's currently about an inch and a half past my collarbone.

And I am currently sick to death of it, but I will say this: it's way cheaper to maintain this way.
---------------------------------

In other, other news: I think this rude broad got exactly what she deserved when she refused to stop texting in the cinema - despite being asked repeatedly to cease and desist. Though her diatribe is pretty fucking amusing, all things considered. "Memerica." Heh.
---------------------------------

I am kicking around trying to actually write the book everyone keeps telling me to. 'Cos why not?

I have a rough outline, and will rough it in. I suspect it will take the form of anecdotes and stories, linked by a loose narrative, but who knows. I've never embarked on anything like this. We'll see what happens. I have someone who's offered to edit, should I go through with it.

Having said that: it's not as though I think this will get published or anything - I know my writing is way too erratic for anyone to actually deal with it.

Tags: , , , ,

5CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Wednesday, December 22nd, 2010 08:53 am


One purpose, multiple versions, originally uploaded by ihvpave.

The ring on the right, I wear on my left hand, as my wedding ring. The setting is sculpted to look like bones, the "stone" is metal worked into a gem shape, and it was inspired by the myth of Persephone. I think it is a perfect symbol of my relationship with HotRod. 

The ring(s) on the left, I received last night, as a Yule gift, from him. 

It's the ring I saw on
this day
. I am wearing it on my right hand, as a symbol of the fact that he wants me to know he finds me worth the expense and effort. That he finds me as beautiful and interesting as this. You can't really wear diamonds in some ways without it reading a certain way, I think, and it's important to me that - as gorgeous as it is, and as much as I love it - it not usurp the place of the ring we chose to symbolise our union. 

I feel very strange this morning, about all of this. 

Tags: , , , , ,

7CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Monday, December 6th, 2010 08:46 am

Wheee!

So, I feel kinda naked this morning, despite the fact that I am wearing a long-sleeve tee-shirt, a hockey jersey, and flannel-lined pants (thanks, petzilla! These are my favourite winter snugglies). I feel naked because yesterday, we dropped off my ring to be sized.

ACK NAKED FINGER IS NAKED.

In case you don't remember, this is my ring. I adore it. I chose it because I love the look of it, that the "stone" is metal (which I love for several reasons, including that HotRod is a metal worker and also 'cos it's not a giant-ass, expensive gem that I would feel shitty about losing if I klutzed it out of its setting), that the setting looks like weensy teensy bones, the symbolism that the artist imbued it with (she created it after being inspired by the myth of Persephone which feels fitting for us)...

You get the idea, anyhow. I love this ring like a fat kid loves cake, is what I am saying, ok?

And what you may not know about this ring is that it took us months to find a ring that we both could agree on. I was kinda startled to realise when we started looking that HotRod? Is kinda traditional. And by "kinda," turns out I mean "like whoa." There were emails of links going back and forth and some interesting discussions about what is "appropriate" for married-lady jewelry (for the record: most things I liked? Are not. *cracking up* "But that looks like costume jewelry!" he would cry. "That doesn't look at all like a wedding ring!" "But who get to decide what a wedding ring looks like, anyhow? Why don't we get to decide? Seems like if I am wearing the damned thing, and it's on the stupid wedding finger, and it never comes off... IS that the point?!" And so it went). The things he sent me made me sound a resounding MEH, the things I sent him got sighs of exasperation. The gems I like are too soft for daily wear, and frankly, diamonds kinda bore me - they're all just "HI I AM A DIAMOND AND THAT IS ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW, HOKAY." Also, they're just PLAIN. I mean, I get it - it's all sparkly and you wanna showcase that, and since DeBeers has done such an outstanding job at managing the commercial market and branding, at that markup, you want people paying attention to the stone.

But as a rule: that leads to intense boredom in how they are displayed.

Wow, that was a bit of a digression, wasn't it? Let's call it foreshadowing, shall we? Cool.

So.

Anyhow. I have this gorgeous ring that I adore, but it's a weensy bit too big, since evidently, I kinda between sizes (shocking, right?). So he ordered it in the larger of the sizes, but since it's a leeeetle bit top heavy with that big ass metal "stone," it tends to... Fall over. A lot. So I've been taping the backside (just like my boyfriend's class ring in high school!) to keep it in place.

Saturday was cold and rainy and just... well. Hideously gross - there was snow in some parts of town, and we got freezing rain for over an hour at the house, and I was kinda in a funk (weather + work + kinda freaking out about dinner that night = generally gross me), and I just wanted to GO DO. I didn't know what, but FOR THE LOVE, something. And so HotRod goes "let's go shopping!" And I go "... eh." And he's all "WOMAN, FOR THE LOVE, WHY DON'T YOU LIKE TO SHOP?" "Dude, ok, fine, we'll go shop. I could use some new hunting boots, after all." Him: *heaves sigh*

Anyhow. So we went to the Giant Mall of Destination Shopping and wandered around and talked and, yes, I got new hunting boots (my old ones were kinda falling apart, and while they are ugly as homemade sin, they get the job done when it is gnarly outside, and hey, I can live with camo if it's keeping my toes warm and dry, alright?). And this is when I found out that all the times over the years that he's gone "wanna go shopping?" -- this has been Seekret HotRod Code Words for "I want to buy you shit."

Oh.

Hm.

I did not know that. I thought that meant "I want to go look at ridiculously expensive suits that I have nowhere to wear them to, and spend far too long looking at shoes I will never wear." So I've always said "nah, that's ok, honey - but you go if you want to!"

Yes, really.

Further more, this has been Seekret HotRod Code for "show me things that you like, so I can stockpile ideas for things to buy you other times, and also, O HAI, LOOKIT, a jewelry store! LET'S LOOK THERE."

But me being... well. me - I did not get those hints.

Which, evidently, means I "suck at being a girl." I'm ok with that, though it DID lead to a pretty fantastic conversation about markers of femininity, and my hangups about shopping and jewelry as a whole, and why I've been so resistant to all of these things (I don't want to want things and be disappointed when I don't get them, I don't want to be "that girl" that dictates "This is the ring I want, this is when you will buy it for me, you owe me/ I deserve it for putting up with you/ I am a greedy, selfish bitchface," maybe it will create a sense of obligation for him, o have horrible taste, or I'll pick something outrageously expensive and he'll have a heart attack and THEN where would I be, etc etc etc)(Yes, I may have some baggage), and various other sociological norms. It was pretty rad, actually.

So yesterday, I had these certificate thingers to that underpants store at the mall, and we had the day to ourselves, so we went to go see about getting me some new drawers. As we walked in, we stopped at the map dealie, and HotRod looks up and hey! There's a jewelry store RIGHT HERE, so let's get your ring sized while we're here! And I roll my eyes and FINE, we will have my ring sized. And you know, here are all these CASES of shiny things, and I am kinda raccoon like in my love of sparkle, despite my resistance to actually owning much of it, and so OF COURSE my eyes are drawn to it, and we were just talking about it too...

And of course, since it is - o hai, the HELLIDAZE - of COURSE the salesgirl is all "WHAT CAN I SHOW YOU, MISS?"

*sigh*

And OF COURSE, HotRod's eyes kinda light up and he's like "ooh! REALLY? What do you like? You like that one? Can we see this one?... Yeh, I want her to have a "real" ring, so maybe..." "EXCUSE ME, HI, I HAVE A REAL RING - I can pick it up and HOLD it and EVERYTHING. That's what REAL means, you know!"

And so it went.

ALL THROUGH THE MALL. With occasional breaks to look at shoes and silly hats and things. But mostly: jewelry stores. And the girls asking me what I liked and HotRod saying "I want to get her a REAL ring" and me kinda snarling "I HAVE a real ring, thankyouverymuch, hokay" and the girls being very confused. And we found out that all the things he thought he liked? He doesn't like on me, and that I don't know the types of cuts (or anything, really, other than "dammit, why can't a pearl work?!"), and that we both found it pretty fucking hilarious that at one of the stores, I completely gravitated to a ring, and we both kinda liked it, and... found out it was on clearance for less than my Frye boots cost. *cracking up* Him: "Only YOU, honey, could manage to find and love a piece of "real" jewelry that cost less than your favourite boots, and have it be on clearance too." As we laughed and I teasingly glared at him, I went over to look at something else, and the girl in that store was all "OH, you're in trouble now! She's going to look at the REAL diamonds" and he goes "well, thank god, I've been trying to get her to for years!" And then I had a twinge of "OMG, I am being That Girl." And we both took a deep breath and looked down and... Wow. That's... Kinda rad. And... Wow.

And that's when I knew I had to get the hell out of that store.

And that is why my finger is naked, and the very long-winded version of how I ended up with a sparkle-headache yesterday, and still won't wear a diamond on my "wedding" finger, even if he decides that I really should have that one that we both actually really liked.

Tags: , , , , , , ,

4CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Tuesday, November 23rd, 2010 07:36 am

So, the whole TSA stuff? I have Thoughts and Many Comments, but by and large, I try to avoid commentary on political events here, since when I go back through my life, it's not the politics that I think about. Suffice to say that yes, I am disturbed. Yes, I have been subjected to enhanced "pat downs," and yes, it was offensive. I may write it up another time.

For now, I deal with light-hearted fun!
In response to this poll, it looks like we'll do dinner on Saturday (4 December)(sorry Spider :(). After I made the poll, having drawn a blank for WEEKS ON END about where the hell to go that could accommodate a group of folks, and have food that most anyone would like, Buca di Beppo in Pineville popped BANG! into my head. They have really yummy Italian, a fun environment, and the whole place is rooms, so no worries about having to get a separate one. Yay!

SO! 7 pm, 4 December, at Buca. Biggity bam.

If you think someone wants to come and mayhap isn't here (which is most people anymore, I suspect), please feel free to let them know - and, um, shoot me a text or email or something, so I can adjust the rezzie as necessary. I went with a rough count, but if I need to go up or down for them, I prefer to give as much notice as possible - I find restaurants get kinda weird about it when you change party size on them without warning, you see :P

Regardless - I would love, love, LOVE to see you there. Too many of you, I don't see often enough, and I bear a lot of responsibility for that - 
especially given my propensity for passing out at ten every night anymore - but I do miss you. Very much. 

Tags: ,

6CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Monday, November 22nd, 2010 02:23 pm

I'm leaving this unlocked, so if you think there is a non-LJer that would be interested in flinging a vote this way zie can do so.

Poll #1647792 Birthday!

IS there interest in a birthday dinner thing, as in years past?

Yes
11(100.0%)
No
0(0.0%)

If yes, Friday or Saturday?

Friday
1(9.1%)
Saturday
7(63.6%)
Don't care, will come either night
3(27.3%)
Don't care, not coming anyhow
0(0.0%)

For the love of all things green an growing: WHERE?


Tags: , ,

1CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Friday, September 17th, 2010 02:38 pm


Samara, originally uploaded by ihvpave.

Good night, my sweet, goofy, klutzy girl. I love you always.



What fucking timing, eh? We had to put Sam down this morning, and I haven't stopped crying very much since I found out.

Basically, Wednesday, she wasn't... Right. But she wasn't in distress, really, and after talking to a friend who's a vet, we held off to see if she felt better Thursday. 

She didn't. 

When we woke up yesterday, she hadn't moved and didn't really seem to... 

Well. 

Work actually. My baby was broken. So I put on the first thing I could find, a hat on my head, and went to work to crank out some stuff so I could stave off panic until I could get to the doc's office. I was leaving the office around the time everyone was getting in, and heading back to the house to fetch my girl. 

Her legs weren't really doing anything useful, so I picked her up and carried her to the car like the baby she is to me - this is when I realised I am glad I never got the mastiff I wanted. 

When I got to the vet's, she was immediately started on an IV and antibiotics, since she had a fever of about 105, and we ran through all the options and initial runs of steps to diagnose, and so forth. And then we began the tests. And the waiting.

At some point in this, Will called to check on her and brought himself to the vet's to wait with me, since HotRod was at work.

 And we sat. And we waited. 

And I kept telling myself that no news is good news, right? 'Cos that means she's not deteriorating. 

Except, no, actually, she was stable, but there wasn't any coming back. 

After 24 hours on IV antibiotics, the next step was to run an ultrasound - which MIGHT tell me what was wrong with my baby girl, but if it did, none of it was going to be good news, and all of it would be long and drawn out to heal her from, without a solid idea that it was going to make her feel better or actually help her all that much in the long run. Which was a lovely call to get this morning at work. 

By the time I got off the phone with the vet, I was pretty much sobbing, which... if you're familiar with me: crying isn't something I do very often. Like, I actually don't remember the last time I actually cried from sorrow or sadness or pain. It may well have been 2006. I seriously don't know. Sometimes, I'll get a tear when I watch a movie (Up, for example, will make me have a drip), but not crying. I just don't do it. I can't - even when I want to, usually, I just sit there feeling like my face is constipated. 


But here I was, in the middle of my office, hitching and snorting and streaming. 



We had to make the decision to put her down. 

I don't know when I will stop crying, just yet. 

I keep expecting her to be inching her way across the couch at me, or hear her tail thumping on the sliding door, or see her doing her special squirmy dance of excitement when I walk into a room. And every time any of those things - or a hundred others - don't, I break down again.

This is so much worse than people. I didn't feel this gutted when Costa Rica happened - maybe because I always had hope he was coming back? - or when Grandmuzzer or Grandaddy or Daddy died, maybe because they weren't in the daily fabric of my life? I don't know. 

But Sam makes me cry, and I think she will for the forseeable future.  


Tags: , , , , , , ,

16CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Saturday, June 26th, 2010 08:55 am

I found this a while back and posted it elsewhere. I still think it's wildly applicable, and I could stand to be reminded.

I got it from Gala Darling, but I have no idea as to where it actually originated.

happy
Excellent, no?

Tags: , ,

2CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Friday, June 4th, 2010 01:00 pm

Yay humans! We rule!

... OK, no we don't.

So, there's a lot in the news about this BP thing. Maybe you've heard about it?

Everyone has an opinion.

Thing is, it's not the first time something like this has happened.

I like how Cherie put it though: "Jesus Christ. We broke the ocean." It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? And it's all... call-to-action-y sounding, kinda.

Except, you know, I'm not entirely sure it's accurate.

OK, so I am kinda a big fat granola nerd. This... should not be news to anyone, right? I mean, I compost, and I get overly excited when I find out that there are grubs living in said compost, and I take pictures of my barn spider every year when she builds her web across my back yard, and I recycle and all of that. I mean: granola, y'all. I'm ok with that. I contribute to the Wildlife Fund, and I buy shit from Nat Geo and have taken my own bags when I shop for years.

But I don't think we "broke the ocean."

Yes, it's tragic, and the pictures of the pelicans break my heart. Yes, I am unutterably sad when I think about the creatures that are dead and dying and the habitats we have destroyed via this and innumerable other actions we as a species have taken.

But I also think about stuff like this and wonder why it matters?

Seriously. Now, I'm not trying to minimise the need for us to, y'know: clean up after ourselves 'n shit - I was a Girl Scout for a ridiculously long time, and that's one of those things we're taught to do - you leave a place better than you found it. On the other hand, given how long we've been here, as a species, on this planet? SERIOUSLY, PEOPLE.

Yes, it sucks. Yes, it is tragic and horrifying -- because it is making us confront, on a grand fucking scale, our mortality as a species, innit? This current disaster. Katrina. Earthquakes in Haiti and Chile. Tsunamis. The earth FUCKING OPENING UP and swallowing some shit.

Y'all, I ain't lyin' when I say it looks like Mama Nature is seriously pissed off, y'know what I am sayin'? Thing is: I don't think it matters. Geological records show that sometimes, the magnetic fields flip. Pop fiction likes to make it a disaster movie, but y'know - it could happen. Last time it happened was 780,000 years ago. That's, like, 78x the entire history of human civilisation ago.

Maybe Mama's bored and thinks it's time for a change. Maybe for her, this is like changing her lipstick, and we're a flea that jumped onto her hand that she's flicking off.

So what I'm kinda saying, maybe, is, I wonder how long our extinction will take? And if the dinosaurs were aware their time was coming to an end, and in their own way, wrote about and discussed it.

Or maybe, it's just like the man says.

Tags: , , , ,

2CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Tuesday, June 1st, 2010 01:40 pm


Too much, originally uploaded by ihvpave.


Tags: ,

5CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Wednesday, May 19th, 2010 08:10 pm


Components, originally uploaded by ihvpave.

I keep starting posts and then deleting them/ locking them because they are all whiny. So here, have a picture!

I was wearing black pinstriped trousers and a black hippie/ peasant top with these. I liked it ok. The hard-tailoring in the slacks against the floppiness of the top pleased me, and I liked the colour story in the accessories.



Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity


Some days, that "power greater" is you guys. I just thought you needed to know that.

In other news: I kinda miss my glasses.

 


Tags: , ,

CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Tuesday, May 18th, 2010 12:49 pm


214, originally uploaded by ihvpave.



What's awesome is that on the shelf next to this was sunscreen. For $25 a bottle.


Tags: , , ,

CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Monday, April 26th, 2010 12:48 pm

I was listening to NPR this morning, like to do most mornings, and I heard this story about a girl who has no fear.

It's a biological disease, and her parents are understandable perpetually scared on her behalf - having a girlchild who doesn't understand the concept of distrust is understandably freaky.

But there is something about the idea of it that is lovely, isn't it? The idea that you can tell someone precisely what you're thinking - and that the thought is "I love you" - without fear. Truly in perfect love and perfect trust.

In a way, it's wildly inspiring to me. Despite the sheer volumes of words that come out of me here, there, and everywhere, there are so many things that never get said. I didn't tell you that I udnerstood how much it hurts, because I was afraid you would think I was lying. I didn't tell you that I love you, because I was afraid it made me look weak. I didn't tell you wht I wanted, because it felt like a burden. I didn't admit that I made a bad decision, because I was afraid you wouldn't respect me. I romanticised the life you have, because it seems so much more fun/ stable/ exotic/ content than the life I lead. I trusted you far past the point I should have. I cut you slack when I wanted to bean you in the head. I was harder on you than you deserved, because, despite everything, I love you more than I ought to.

I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.

Why do we have so much fear around saying these words?

One of you recently did a poll that featured a question about these words, and this was the result:
The phrase "I love you"

Should not be said too early
2 (25.0%)

Should be said often
5 (62.5%)

Loses its meaning through overuse
2 (25.0%)

Doesn't mean anything if said during sex
2 (25.0%)

Doesn't count if is said while under the influence of Alcohol, Drugs, or Impending Anal
3 (37.5%)

Means more than actions
0 (0.0%)

means less than actions
6 (75.0%)


The idea that these words - the expression of love - should not be said early, that it shouldn't be said often were espoused by a full quarter of his respondants! A quarter of people!

Perhaps I am an anomaly (yes, yes, I know), but I find that the more I love, the more love I have. I think half of the time the problem I have is that keeping that love held in, to be safer, somehow, is what hurts. I want to love you, but I can't.

Because I am afraid.

It hurts to love, sometimes, you see. I am happy to give you the love. The problem is that once that live is opened between us, the removal of forces that love to have nowhere to go. And then, like any pipeline that has suddenly been shut off, there is a backflow, and I am drowning in the rebuff. And it takes time for all of that to find somewhere to land itself, you see, much like floodwaters take time to seep down into the ground. Eventually, they do so, and equilibrium is reached - but in the interim, there is havoc.

I think you're fantastic - for all the reasons you think I am wrong. I know you have flaws - we all do. That's ok. There is a reason that puzzle pieces are each cut differently - if we both zig the same way, there's no where for us to fit together. I like the flaws; they're my favourite bit, actually. They're the part that makes you the you that I love in this way, you see.

I hate knowing that you have that ache and that you hurt and that I can't fix it for you, that things get so tough for you. Mostly, though, I hate that I love you. Because you don't believe me, and I can't make you believe me, and you think it's just one of my cute quirks. It hurts to love so much, sometimes.

But I can't stop. I'm not fearless at all - I'm always terrified that I've laid myself too bare. Or not bare enough.

Lines.

They are always so very fine. So very fine that I can't see them and end up walking all over them unknowingly. There are no easy answers when I can't seem to learn the lesson.

I love you.

And that scares me. But I can't seem to stop.

Tags: , ,

9CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Tuesday, March 9th, 2010 08:15 am


Liz exsists!, originally uploaded by retrofatale.

I am hiding HotRod's face 'cos he doesn't like it when ppl take pictures of him, but retrofatale wanted to prove I'm real, 'cos we haven't seen each other in so long. XO
 


Tags: ,

CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Wednesday, March 3rd, 2010 09:46 pm

So I posted earlier about how I'd been trying to post something, and my confuser kept eating dirt?

Indeed. It was kinda weird and a little spooky, actually.

Anyhow. I posted a bit of a misnomer then - I sed it was a post about loving oneself, and that's not entirely true, though that is the root of it.

But mostly, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about living authentically.

On a long enough timeline, the life expectancy of everyone is zero.

This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time.

I wanted to live deliberately, I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.... and not when I had come to die Discover that I had not lived.

This is all kinda a long-standing percolation that is finally bubbling up, and I will go ahead and apologise for grammatical and typing errors, as this is (as usual) kinda an exercise in free-writing and stream of consciousness (though at some point, I suppose it's fair to stop calling them "exercises" and just own the fact that this is how I write, fullstop, and there's not much to be done about it in the end).

I get asked with some frequency "How do you do it?"

I always ask for clarification 'cos I hate to answer the wrong question, but usually, it's about how I "stay so true" to myself, in some way or another. (Sometimes, it's about how I keep it all together, but I've gone into how that's a big ol' hairy misconception, so no need to rehash THAT, I reckon, 'cos I don't, at all)

I don't know why it's been floating to the top of my head so much lately, but it has, so here ya go.

I don't know how not to be.

I've said before that I was incredibly fortunate growing up - I had the unique experience of having a multitude of lives laid out before me within my family. Mama and Daddy were biker/ hippies, we were broke, and I spent the better chunk of my formative years in a trailer. I spent summers primarily with my grandparents, and on both sides, there was a fair amount of Southern Royalty/ country club in that, and some art (Grandmuzzer). TSD and the stepmonster were just... plain old weird. I mean, Frank Zappa-fanboy weird. I know this afforded me a view of the world that most wouldn't ever get a chance to; I mean, most kids don't vacillate between the country club and biker gang keggers, from what I understand. It's no secret that i started drinking early - and that I was also an honour roll student.

The juxtaposition of all of these pieces, along with my abject failure at "being normal" meant I never really learned how to behave like "normal people."

I tried. I tried for years. I tried to dress the part. I studied people like it was my job - 'cos in a way, it was. I wanted to figure out how "normal" behaved, so I could emulate it. The words they used, the way they dressed, how they interacted.

I've written about all this before too. I never mastered it; I was like real-life version of Josie from Never Been Kissed.

The past few years, I have felt a seismic shift in my mind. I'd call it a "soulquake" but that's too cheesy even for me, so I won't. But... Where before, there was shame in some way for "how I am," it's stopped being a sore place. It's become a beautiful feature I embrace instead of a scar I want to hide. ,

Part of this is due to my job, in a weird way: it affords me a level of personal freedom and expression I've never had before. I can have conversations about things with colleagues that would be frowned upon (at best) in other environments, freely, and without concern (except in certain restaurants, where they get irritable). Part of it is some of the people I've had come into my life and the lessons they have taught me - both good and bad. I've learned that trust is much more often deserved than not, and that the more love you give, the more you have.

I hear the Narrator in my head sometimes, like a metronome:
This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time.

Why would I want to live it by someone else's rules? So I stopped trying.

I stopped being as concerned that wearing [outfit] might get me strange looks, and wear what I want when I want. Yes, sometimes that means I wear my Mickey Mouse ears when I run errands, or a tutu to the grocery store. "Clinton and Stacy say that..." FUCK THEM. I have yet to see a show of theirs that doesn't end with the mark looking like an InStyle clone. Yes, they know about what is flattering, and that's great. But sometimes, what makes us feel good is just as important. Why is it so important to us to have the acceptance of others, when all too often, it makes us die a little inside?

I stopped worrying about where I should be at [age]. I don't want a family. I don't want to manage people or a department. I don't want to be locked into a "suitable" career at 35, that I will stay in for the next thirty years. Who DOES that?! Very few that are happy, I suspect.

I stopped worrying about what my relationship should look like. I love my partner; he's awesome-sauce, the bees' knees, all that AND a plate of pancakes. I still want to date other people. Sometimes, I like to fuck other people without compunction. That's not a reflection on him; it's a reflection and statement about me. If some small-minded person wants to call me a slut as a result, well, that's certainly zir prerogative, but I fail to see why it should concern me. I don't see anyone suggesting that my deep and abiding love of cheddar means I should never have mozzarella, after all, or that eating peanut butter means I can't have chocolate. They all have a place in my life, and that's a-ok. Some are good for having daily, some make a nice little indulgence, and some you find out just flat-out don't agree with you in the end.

Years ago, I was reading a horrible novel, and there was a lengthy character description. It wasn't a major character, but the author went on for some time about the level of self-determination this character had: her parents raised her to feel nothing but confidence in all of her choices, and she never faltered in that. "Approval had always surrounded her, unnoticed and totally accepted and expected, taken for granted like the law of gravity.... her obligation was to exist in the way that felt right for her." Isn't that fucking gorgeous? I love that idea: that one's sole job is to live precisely to one's own standards. It took me a long time to get to a place where I could fathom precisely what that means, and I'm still working on it. But I'm starting to internalise that as my personal rule. For me, that means putting love and full acceptance into the world as I encounter it. It means creating my own paradigms instead of catering to those that are out in the wild.

Sometimes, I get hurt. Sometimes, I choose poorly. And sometimes, it's not all kitten kisses and rainbows. But you know what? Even if I lived life by the rules set out by "Them," I suspect I'd still sometimes get hurt feelings and make bad choices and get poison ivy. So if I am going to run the risk of all of that, why shouldn't I live by the choices I make deliberately to do the things that I find to be important?

No one else is going to live this life for me. As the saying goes: I can get busy living, or I can get busy dying. I choose to live.

And that means that I strive to live my life in an authentic way, that meets the needs I have for my life. I refuse to be on my deathbed thinking "I wish I hadn't been so afraid." I'll be pissed that I waited until now to fully embrace it. I can't die with someone else's experiences in my head.

What's important to me? What do I want to not wish I hadn't done?

This is the deepest version of self-love I can think of. Embracing the person I am, exactly as I am, flaws and all. Surprisingly enough to the 15-year-old version of me in my head, this crazy woman with her foibles and exuberance and cackling laugh and fear is actually in pretty good demand.

Isn't that just the tits? All the things I used to try to fit into neat little boxes or hide away completely are the things that it turns out people love the most. It's not always easy, but it's authentic. And really, isn't that the point?

Tags: , , ,

7CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Tuesday, February 16th, 2010 12:55 pm

I've kinda been following the Kevin Smith thing on Twitter (... and the rest of the world), since I kinda like Smith's movies, and I think he's an interesting personality, and also, 'cos I travel sometimes. If you haven't been following it, the short version is that he had a flight on SouthWest, but wanted to try to leave earlier and went standby - and then was removed from the plane after stowing his stuff, for being a "safety risk" (his obesity being the reason cited). Obviously, there are two sides to the story, but allegedly, Smith flies SouthWest pretty frequently, and has never been removed from a plane before. What followed was a Twitterstorm of epic proportions in which Smith, at great length and with language as one would expect, went the fuck off on SouthWest. In return, SouthWest wrote a blog ostensibly "apologising" to Smith that basically said "wow, sucks to be so fucking fat, huh, fattie?" and laid out some details about his ticket buying habits.

... Which seems to me to be exceptionally stupid.

The whole thing was kind of a mess, full of he-said/ she-said sorts of bitchery. But in the long run, here's my question:

If Smith was unable to "fit" into his seat, and the "determination" was made by staff on the flight that he was a hazard to the "comfort and safety" (from the post linked above) of the rest of the flight, why has he never been ousted from a flight by LUV before? If he was able to meet the standards they had set twenty-five years ago (again: from the blog), and demonstrated them at the time of the flight, why was he publicly humiliated in front of a plane full of others?

I'm not a small person, but neither am I a "customer of size," to the best of my knowledge: I am a 5'10" woman, weighing in at 160. By current standards, I am a tall woman, but I am generally regarded as "small" because I am relatively thin. I fly about twice a month, generally on flights that are three or more hours, and I am often uncomfortable on flights - regardless of the size of my seatmates. Not because I am fat, or because they are fat, but because current plane configurations pretty much blow a goat and are hideously uncomfortable for all humans.

While I certainly believe a company should adhere to its policies, I also believe those policies should be consistently enforced and error acknowledged. In a similar vein, I have a difficult time finding it in my best interests to patronise a company that would a) disclose my shopping history with them so openly, b) humiliate a patron with so little regard for the dignity we should all afford one another as a matter of course - and should demonstrate that much more by virtue of being a business that, by its nature, is a member of the service industry.

I want to like SouthWest. I have always heard good things about SouthWest. I like their groovy stock symbol: LUV! It makes me smile; it looks all warms and snuggly. And yet: I can't feel good about it anymore. Do I think Smith went overboard? Sure. But it's not as though anyone who's ever experienced anything Kevin Smith would've expected him to be quiet about anything. Part of why I like him as a writer is his unapologetic verbosity - I feel less like I am spewing a jillionty words when I am confronted w/ an Askewniverse character's loquacious nature. Do I think he exploited his celebrity? Yeh, sure. Do I think he wanted special treatment due to his celebrity? No; in this, I don't think he did. I think he wanted humane treatment. And I think he was denied that, and that is a shame.

When all is said and done, we all deserve the right to humane treatement from other humans.

Tags: , ,

11CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Friday, January 22nd, 2010 12:45 pm

So, I wrote something the other day about this whole "quitting smoking" bid'nezz (PS: y'all are awesome, and I appreciate your love and support more than I can begin to tell you), and a few people mentioned the generally accepted knowledge about how nicotine is more addictive than herion.

I'm not entirely sure I believe that, as such, though I will readily accept that it is harder to quit smoking than it is to drop other narcotics. Obviously, I am not a scientist, and I don't care enough to look into all the super-geeky bits about nicotine and dopamine and bonding and whateer else there are in he way of Actual Meritorious Things To Back It Up, so it's totally possible that yes, it is actually more addictive when one breaks it down.

I don't really care.

Mostly, 'cos I am going to pose an argument that I touched on the other day: the integration of smoking into daily life.

Because I think that's what makes it so much harder than other drugs to quit - as evidenced by a number of friends and anecdotal evidence that smoking is so much more difficult than heroin to get out of the system. This is how I put it yesterday:

And yet, because we're not descending into massively destructive behaviours to fix, it it hard to wrap the mind around. I mean, people aren't typically breaking into houses to buy smokes, or driving into trees from smoking, or beating their wives 'cos they killed a pack in a few hours, or wasting away in a flophouse, smoking incessantly.

Along those same lines, we don't take a booze break every hour, or step outside at dinner to spike a vein, or do a line every time we get into a car, or have a shot of whiskey with our morning coffee (well. Most of us don't). All of these are pretty commonly accepted habits of smokers. Sure, there are those that will give smokers ugly looks, but by and large, while it's become kinda de riguer to think smoking's kinda gross, it's still pretty socially okie dokie as a vice to have. As a smoker, you will get teased for needing to have that hit after dinner, but it's not looked on with a sense of being hideously aghast that, you know, cooking down some smack might.

But it's a drug, and the science that I do know shows that nicotine hits the same reward receptors that your major narcotics do, and that's part of what makes it even more difficult to quit than Ennis DelMar ever hoped to be. And most smokers are used to getting that fix, if you will indulge me, anywhere from 10-30 times a day, depending on how heavy their habit was. For me, pretty much anywhere I was, I was going to be getting through about a pack a day.

Now, going back to the well of that analogy I am drawing:

Imagine that I was shooting heroin twenty times a day.

Ahhhh.

There we go. Now we see why it's so much more difficult to quit smoking than it is anything else. Even if it is less addictive by its nature than the big-time narcotics, you're getting a helluva lot more reinforcement on that behaviour than most do on their drugs of choice. Which, in turn, makes it infinitely more difficult to get over than hump.

Whatever the reason, it's hard as hell to stop it. Those are pretty massive receptors that ping up when a single drag is taken - in the past, I think I thought it was like... I dunno. Like, giving up Chocolate, or something. Like, LA LA, NO BIG DEAL. And I felt kinda like a dick that I couldn't just.. Get the hell over it. It's almost a cultural joke that "oh, sure, it's a DRUG, ha ha" - but it lacks the same weight of perception that most addictions do, despite evidence to the contrary. I've been guilty of it myself - when friends have quit smoking, I've never seen it as a Huge Hairy Deal. I've been like "oh, ok. Right on. Sucks for you." I know I'm not alone in that, either - it's not a Crisis!Situation! like someone getting clean from anything else is. So it's harder from that perspective, too.

It's been a long time since I got clean. It's been a long time since I've spent any real time thinking about the nature of addiction like this. It'll simmer back down shortly, but for now, these are really interesting thoughts. And, in all honesty, I kinda needed 'em - I'd lost a lot of sympathy for those still suffering in their addictions.


I promise I'll stop counting days at some point. It's been a long time since I did that, too.

Tags: , , ,

7CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Wednesday, January 20th, 2010 10:13 am

"Remember, we are dealing with alcohol: cunning, baffling, powerful! Without help, it is too much for us."

This is from the "How It Works" section of the AA "Big Book."

I'm not going to be saying anything particularly profound here, I know, but right now, the not-smoking struggle is still pretty much all-encompassing for me, so I apologise for my hideous boredom as I get through this.

It's not news to anyone that nicotine is a really fucking addictive drug. I mean, we know this. We've been told this for for too long to ignore now. And yet, because we're not descending into massively destructive behaviours to fix, it it hard to wrap the mind around. I mean, people aren't typically breaking into houses to buy smokes, or driving into trees from smoking, or beating their wives 'cos they killed a pack in a few hours, or wasting away in a flophouse, smoking incessantly. So it's really kinda easy to brush it aside. An easy punchline for a comedian to throw away: "they're a drug, we're addicted!" And we ignore how much of our behaviour is truly that of an addict. And we invalidate our own troubles with quitting, 'cos the ads make it look so easy - and why isn't it easy for me, then?

Well, ok: for me, it's really easy to brush it aside, cos for me, I equate "problematic" with my life becoming unmanageable. And, really, smoking doesn't make my life unmanageable: I have never been compelled to take smoke breaks at work throughout the day, I can take a long plane ride without freaking out, I'm ok with not smoking at dinner. None of these have ever really been Big Hairy Deals for me, so why bother?

So here I am, on day 7 of being a non-smoker, and I'm doing a lot of thinking about it - for obvious reasons. 'Cos, y'know, I still want to smoke. I'm waiting at my house for the plumber to get here and figure out why all the drains are backing up, and thinking "OK, now what?"

And I'm thinking "ok, so, I can't have a drink to relax, and I can't smoke a bowl, and now I have voluntarily removed the option to have a cigarette. This blows."

And there's that tiny voice in the back of my head - the insidious one that makes me realise just how much of a drug nicotine is - saying "You can have a cigarette. That's not a big deal. I mean, just one is fine. You'll be ok."

And I recognise that voice. That's the voice that let me drink "a" screwdriver in my initial sobriety. I had been clean for, like, 8 months. Surely one little drink wouldn't be that bad. I mean, c'mon! I had it under control!

... Well, no, actually. I used quotes up there intentionally, because my "a" screwdriver basically turned into me killing a premade gallon of them (... yeh, it was a GOOD falling off the wagon. I don't do shit halfway, y'know), and going on a three month bender, where I woke up most mornings trying to remember how I got home (it was sumer vacation, it bears mentioning. I never drank during the school week, 'cos I wanted to make sure I got that scholarship to uni). And having quit smoking before, I know that having that one cigarette is the equivalent of that first screwdriver or beer for me, and that means I'll be buying a carton in the next few days, and really, what's the big deal, anyhow?

It is a big deal for me now. I'm writing all this crap here, 'cos I trust and love you guys, and this is - seriously - a hundred times harder than quitting drinking ever was. While I could never drink in moderation and learned that early, it was never a part of the fabric of my day-in/ day-out life. Smoking has been, for an embarrassingly long time. People are always surprised when they learn how long I've been not drinking - and yeh, I can see that's it's kinda surprising that someone who just turned 35 has been sober for 18 years. When I break down the math, I drank heavily for about 6 years - before I got good and into it, I had beers and other things on and off for about 5 years before that. So, all together, from the time I had my first self-directed boozing until I quit, I drank for 11 years.

I've been smoking more than twice that, and it's a crutch I am not proud of. I know part of it stems from a conversation I had once at a party - interestingly, it was when I was drinking, but I didn't drink at that party 'cos I was hideously uncomfortable and didn't feel safe - and I was being ribbed for being a goodie two-shoes, 'cos I wasn't drinking, and I wasn't hitting the bowl, and I didn't have anything on board. I'm tired of letting that memory rule my decisions, the fear of being judged and found wanting because I don't indulge? I'm making a conscious decision to stop giving that power over me.

Having said all of that, right now, the biggest tool I have at my disposal is remembering that this is an addiction, and I have to treat that voice telling me I can have a smoke at the club the same way I treat the one that tells me it's ok to have a drink: I have to shut it down, and remember what comes next when you're me, and you give in to that voice. I don't want to do this again; I've done it too many times and fallen back into the ashtray, as it were. It's too hard, and I think (hope) I have finally learned that lesson.

Also? I'm kinda counting on you guys to help me remember this for the time being. And if I start smoking again, for whatever retarded excuse my addict brain cooks up, you have my full permission to kick my ever-lovin' ass. Remind me what HotRod has had to put up with, if you have to. Remind me how much it physically hurt, and how I have just wanted to cry 'cos I am not sure I want this this much.

Today is Day 7. I am a non-smoker. I am ok with that, today.

Tags: , ,

14CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Thursday, December 17th, 2009 01:13 pm
Words of the day:

"Malfeasance." I don't know why. I just like it. No particular reason. It just came into my head, all "hey, I'm a rad word. And I am seriously underused." So, there you go, malfeasance. Showing you some love.

Also: "auspicious." Which this morning was NOT.

And "coup d'etat," which technology is staging against me.

(Serious up. I don't even remember the last time my phone didn't have a single message on it when I woke up. No email, no FB, no texts, no Google Voice. Nothing. I thought "wow, rad! SLOW DAY!" But no. I had 50+ in the various things when I logged in on my confuser. My phone though? Nothin' doing. I am very, very confused.)

Finally: "asstarded"
Just 'cos

Tags: , ,

CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Wednesday, December 16th, 2009 01:24 pm

ExpandoTweet of the last week: Bite-sized nuggets gone ['splodey!Collapse )

In other news: my favourite webwriter ever seems to be back, and this makes me beyond happy. I've linked to her in the past, but her site's been pretty much abandoned for the last year, and I would periodically poke my head in at her site and then get sad there was nothing new, but OMFG I looked this week and THERE IS NEW SHIT. If you have not become acquainted with MissDoxie.com, I strongly reccomend you go there RIGHT NOW and read.

Ok, if you're at work, maybe you shouldn't. Not 'cos she's all pervy (not at all), but 'cos you will get SO RIDONKULOUSLY SUCKED IN that you will cease working. Also, you are likely to start laughing out loud, and that's always awkward. I may or may not know this from personal experience when I began reading her, back in the day. Make a point to read "Cookie and the Geese," in particular. And read the archives.

But I will warn you: you may pee yourself the tiniest bit from the absurdity and laughter. Go forth, my children, and make with the merriment. You know you need it.

Tags: , , ,

2CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Saturday, December 12th, 2009 01:33 pm

So, ok.

This whole Tiger Woods thing has been all over the news, and I have to admit: it makes me think in a bunch of different directions.

Of course it doesn't affect us directly, but given some of the choices I have made in my life, it does bring to the forefront a lot of things, you know?

I am never a fan of cheating - and even in an open arrangement, cheating can and does occasionally happen - and of course, it's all hypothetical speculation. But as you know, my brain does weird shit sometimes, and goes in a bunch of directions, and then: mental spewing on the underlying philosophies and what ever. As an example, this of course is a big topic in my work-world, since (OF COURSE) there is a movie to be made from all of this. And in the course of those conversations, there have been a lot of denigration of the women involved. To be sure, some of them are clearly out - at THIS POINT - for financial compensation now that it's all come to light. But there are others who have made efforts to not say anything or jump on the bandwagon or get a payday who've been outed by others, and are still being painted with the easy brush of whoredom. And me being me, that gives me pause. 'Cos: why? They were doing what they wanted, they didn't sell that story when it was going on (and some of them, it's been over for a while, from what I understand), and as far as I can see -- they're not the ones that fucked up, really. They nailed a guy who's attractive, and probably made them feel pretty special ('cos, let's face it: it's human nature that if a good looking, successful, and wealthy person find lil' ol' humdrum you worth their time... Most people are going to be all over it. Especially when his wife is crazy hot, and you're a waitress at Applebees or whatever).

It's kinda interesting to me that there was a Dan Savage column not terribly long ago - maybe two weeks before all of this broke - that covered something I'd long wondered with regards cheating vs open. A guy had written in that he and his GF had an open relationship, and how come chicks would be all into it when they thought it was taboo, but would bail when they found out his GF was OK? And Dan's answer was along the lines of "When they think you're breaking the rules for them, they feel valued and like they are above the norm for you - but when they find out it's ok, well... They've lost that special snowflake feeling, 'cos they're not inspiring you to take a chance on them." Which made a lot of sense to me, and it's been something HotRod and I have talked about a lot over the years, 'cos we've encountered it a number of times.

Additionally, I saw or heard something on the news about it, and the remark was made about how three of the women had been within the last year or so, and there was a lot of "tsk tsk" tone to it, as though the number in 12 months was remarkable. Is it? I don't know. I know people who fuck a lot more over the course of a year, and people who fuck less in five. I get that in this case, given that he was - as far as we know - in an ostensibly "monogamous" relationship, and that makes for wholly different rules, but for the sake of argument, let's pretend she knew all along that he was having outside relationships (and it seems pretty clear that many of them were, in fact, relationships, and not one-nighters). Would that change anything?

As for Tiger himself... At this point, I really feel like the information out so far gives a strong indication of compulsive/ addictive behaviour, and I kinda just pity him 'cos I can see a strong correlation with drug use - and addicts aren't known for being strongly rational. Unless it was an ethically open relationship, but he violated their safer sex protocols (which is what my head tells me is the logical alternative), and that's why she went after him with the golf clubs.

It is all completely academic and super-nerdy of me, I get that, and I have belaboured this far past the point of interest for people that aren't me. I now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

Tags: , ,

7CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Thursday, December 10th, 2009 01:25 pm


Tags: , , ,

1CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Tuesday, December 8th, 2009 08:50 pm

(written Monday)

Sooo...

I have been in LA for the last several days, and today is my last day.

I have had such a fantastic time here, and there are so many things I want to say - but shockingly, words are failing me (not really all that shocking, since really, I suck at the words that I WANT, which is why so often I end up making them up 'n stuff and then rambling on all around the edges of everything I actaully want to say but can't).

I don't really want to do a recap of the trip, because that wouldn't be adequate, but I am pretty sure that I won't be able to accurately convey how completely overwhelmed and touched I have been throughout this trip by the people I am consistently blessed to have in my life.

In all honesty, I wasn't sure how the trip would go. I mean, for whatever reason, The Yuppy Puppy was in my thoughts on the plane for quite a long time. Not in any bad way - but I heard someone say something that just kicked off this memory of certain things he used to say. It was a really nice memory, the cascade memories about the time I got to share with him. It's hard not to think of things like that, when they haven't happened in a long time, without kinda thinking to oneself "... is this some kinda wacky omen-y thing?" Also, I was coming to stay with someone I define as a friend because he's more than an acqaintence, but with whom I've never really spent any significant periods of time - oh, crap, what if we don't get along in that cirsumstance? What if that hour or two we usually manage to spend together is about as much time as we can tolerate? That could totally ruin the whole trip, y'know?

So I just wasn't sure that this was a good idea, actually, is what I am saying. I was thinking "well, if all else fails, and spending time with college pal goes tits up and I do absofuckinglutely NOTHING AT ALL, well... At least I got a few days where I don't have dogs and cats staring at me." That is how my life is going lately, in a bunch of directions: lower your personal expectations to such a degree that you expect massive fucking failure in everything, and then you won't be dissapointed.

I completely love it when the universe sends me a curve ball and blows my negativity out of the water.


I have managed to spend time with people who amaze me, gone to places I haven't gotten to go previously, had incredible conversations about the meaning of life and connection and love, soaked up love, eaten well, appreciated the incredible gift of time that has been so freely given by people in my life, sung along at the top of my lungs whilst others sing karaoke, danced, been hugged a completely ridiculous number of times, kissed and been kissed, and in short? Kicked off 35 feeling so far beyond fortunate that I am incapable of expressing it.

There are a lot of things in my life that are rough right now. But this trip has been an amazing oppotunity to remember the imortant things.

I have so much gratitude in my heart right now for so many people. But at the top of that list is the person I was most unsure about on this trip.


So I wrote that yesterday but couldn't post for various reasons, and now I am home (I've been here for about 15 minutes). There will be more.

Tags: , ,

6CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Wednesday, November 18th, 2009 06:55 pm

I've been spending a lot of time lately with the guys in the back room of my brain. You know the ones - the guys you leave to do the heavy mental lifting whilst you carry on with your life? Yeh, I’ve been actually conversing with them.

A few months ago, from nowhere discernible, I started thinking about the connotation of the word “slut” and the idea of sacred whores.

Back when I was in high school, I had the interesting conundrum of being branded both a “slut” and “lesbian” – though I always found it interesting that “slut” carried the connotation of being cock-hungry and kinda thought it ran at cross-purposes to one another. Shouldn’t they have just picked one and been done with it? Regardless, it did bother me quite a lot back then, but as I carried on about my life, I noted something interesting:

Those girls that were rebuffed and ridiculed for being “sluts” sure did seem to be having an awful lot of fun. And it occurred to me, having been through some of the shit I’d been through, that having fun is kinda the point of life. If you’re not having fun, why not just roll over in the dirt and call it a day? If I didn’t choose to live these other kids’ lives, why did I give a shit what they thought of it? Ultimately, I decided I didn’t – ‘cos when all is said and done, I realized those gossipy trolls weren’t the ones that would have to live with my decisions – I would. And I decided I’d rather live as balls out as I could.

In the intervening years, I’ve had a lot of experiences I wouldn’t have had otherwise. And I’ve spent a lot of time in my head doing a lot of analysing why a woman who controls her own sexuality is a “slut” – and why it has such a negative societal connotation.

I also have been ruminating on the idea of the sacred whore – it’s an interesting concept, and there are lots of ways to look at it. I like to look at in the Marvin Gaye way: sexual healing. It’s possible, you know. To approach the act of sex in such a way that it is not necessarily tied to an emotional bond, and still come from a place of loving and generosity. Sex can heal wounds so deep they are not recognized, and when given freely from a place like this, can allow someone to release anger and frustration and historical pain. Isn’t that a lovely thought? That a woman can give so freely of herself, without an agenda but from a source of genuine affection and universal love, thereby providing an emotional slate-cleaning of sorts.

But then… I’ve talked to some of my guy friends about it, and they don’t know why they have such negative views on women’s sexuality, either. Even the “enlightened” guys I know who don’t really give a hoot about how many partners someone has had have a nebulous idea of when the line has been stepped over. “It’s like obscenity,” one of them said. “I can’t define it, but you know it when you see it.”

Well, that’s certainly helpful, isn’t it? [/wry]



Consensus seems to be that it’s a combination of factors that cause a woman to be viewed in the negative light – though I will readily concede I deal largely with wildly liberal folk. As one of my female friends put it “You can sleep with whoever you want, or you can have your tits out. But you can’t do both at the same time.” Generally, amongst my interesting comrades, the constant seems to lie in intent. If there’s an agenda, it’s slutty – if it’s genuine desire (whatever the impetus), it’s not.

Interesting, that. I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge there also seems to be a certain element of “keep your mouth shut about it” that accompanies all of these bits.

One of my colleagues offered this as logic in defining why free-loving women are “sluts”:

"… it's unfair that if a guy fucks a different girl every week, he's a legend, but if a girl fucks just two guys in a year, she's a slut. So in response I told her that if a key opens lots of locks, then it's a master key. But if a lock is opened by lots of keys, then it's a shitty lock. That shut her up."

Uh, ok. That’s another way of looking at it, I reckon.

I don’t have a pull-together to make this sound like actual finished thoughts, ‘cos mostly, I’m just rambling. I do know this, though: I like the word “slut,” and I am ok with calling myself that. To me, the connotation isn’t negative because I decided all those years ago that if I have to live in this life, then I will make decisions that are right for me. For some, that will mean I’m slutty. For others, it might look chaste. But on the personal level, I decided “slutty” meant “in charge.”

And I am a-ok with that. I’m taking it back, you see.

Tags: , , ,

10CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Friday, October 9th, 2009 12:40 pm

Yeh, so I am jumping the gun a wee-bit here, but eh. Whatevs.

For those of you NOT on the Newest-Wave-of-Time-Suck (we call it Facebook), here's the skinny:

I'm invading Charlotte's monthly Goth night (Return of the Bats, if you're not familiar) to celebrate my sobriety.

Yes, friends, my sobriety is legal to fuck on film. Rad, huh? (For the slow ones out there: Yes, this means I am celebrating 18 years of being the insane non-drinker you know and love.)

So here's the deal:
Come on out to Charlotte Underground that night.
Dress in your school yard best: School girls, naughty librarians, bullies, and geekboys are ALL welcome
Celebrate with me, while listening to the best oookity spookity music going in this town
AND get yourself in the Halloween mood

I'll be looking for people to drink LARGE quantities of soda and water with me - but I'll also need some designated drinkers.

Y'all come! It'll be a SCREAM. *cracking up*

If you think someone SHOULD know about this, but they're not on FB or what not - please feel free to drag their sorry butts right on out. Or forward them this thingo. Or whatever.


Pass along to whomever you wish, and Y'ALL COME. If you want to, I mean.


*EDIT*
Oh, *ahem*

Right.

17 October, night time (late-ish, 'cos: club - show up around 10.30 and we'll start getting funky like a staircase), Charlotte Underground (4205 Monroe Rd Charlotte, NC 28205).

Tags: ,

9CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Thursday, September 10th, 2009 09:07 am


Tags: ,

4CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Thursday, August 27th, 2009 12:42 pm


Tags: ,

12CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Monday, August 3rd, 2009 05:32 pm

So, ok.

Every now and again, I take a spin through some online communities I am a part of. Some of them are very woman-centric - 'cos, y'know, I'm a broad, and I like to get perspectives from other wimmins sometimes. Thing is, though? The more time I spend in these communities, the more I don't want to have anything to do with most women (fine, pixie, you were right). I mean, I love the women in my life 'cos you are all awesome. But I can only presume that these chicks in the various communities are examples of mainstream American women, and I want to beat them in their collective head with a ball-peen hammer.

[It bears mentioning that I am a tad moody today]

About once every two or three weeks, without fail, one of these drizzly cunts will post some long screed about how she hacked into her honey's email/ LOLSpace/ FaceBook/ LJ/ brain (always with the disclaimer "I know it's wrong to invade his privacy, but [self-justicfication wank]") and O NOES he's been exchanging emails with an ex/ random girl/ friend the twat thinks is far too pretty/ Brunhilda the Bitch of Austria. Inevitably, this leads to some incredibly long post wherein the invasive bandercoot yammers on long past the point of interest about how now her faith in him is shaken and WHAT TO DO, O WEBBERTUBES?!

I'll tell you what to do, you braindead cooze: Don't fucking snoop.

It's that easy.

Just don't do it.

You already know it's wrong - you said so yourself. If your boyfriend/ husband/ roommate/ fuckfriend did that to you, you'd be in a community bitching about how violated your tender widdle heartses are that he didn't trust you O THE HUMANITY . So what, in the name of all things green and growing, makes it acceptable for YOU to do that VERY SAME THING?

Very good, class: It doesn't.


My response to one of these wastes of estrogen today:

You say "I know it's wrong to invade privacy, but I really wanted to know what was going on..." Um. I wans't able to read the rest of your post because this stops me dead.

Every time I see something like this, I cringe. It makes me ill. You've justified it to yourself, but if you trust him so little that you feel you have to hack his accounts to check up on him. In courts, that is inadmissible evidence. If any one hacked your accounts, how would you respond? I would be completely furious, and I would be incredibly defensive and fly off the handle - regardless of what is actually going on. Particularly if it's someone who claims to love me.

"I want to know that I can trust him and I don't want to invest time in a relationship if this behavior is going to continue." You don't trust him now, though.

People - all people - need some time that is 100% their own. And if that sacred space - be it in the physical or digital realms - is violated, behaviours will be hidden. By snooping, you actually make it worse.

I've been on both sides of this fence - and when my belongings were gone through, I realised what a complete invasion it is. Growing up, my grandmother used to tell me that "people that listen at keyholes never hear anything good about themselves." Eavesdropping has always been considered ill-mannered, but today, it is so commonplace we seem to have forgotten it harms the listener too.

I know this will be an unpopular opinion here, since I see a lot of this kind of thing, and a lot of the women here will say "you should leave him because you found out." I will dissent and say "you should leave him because you don't trust him now, and you may not ever."

I apologise if this isn't worded as poofy and soft as others could do - I feel very strongly that going through the private property of another is so profoundly wrong, but we women do it with alarming frequency and are shocked and hurt by what we find. "ignorance is bliss" became a cliche for a reason.


Maybe I'm just exceptionally cranky right now. I don't know. But this just bugs the tee-total shit outta me. And I see it all the damn time. And pretty much always, all the women folk go "omg, you should leave him 'cos he is LYING TO YOU and that is bad and you will be miserable and your relationship will never be the same again."

Shut the hell up and go cook my dinner, you withered up bitches.

If you are going to snoop, be prepared that you're gonna not like it. That's why you're snooping in the first place, really, isn't it? 'Cos you want to catch him fucking up? When you are completely honest, in the blackest, deepest, most pustule-ridden bit of your heart: You expect him to fail.

I mean, when we get right down to brass tacks, no one goes through their honey's email 'cos they think they're gonna find a draft of some schmoopy love poem handing out in his Google Docs. These women are doing it because they already think Mister Man is up to some sort of shenanigans. So if you're already convinced he's doing it, and you're already going to go looking for it, just make the call and end it. 'Cos you don't trust his sorry ass anyhow. And when you don't find anything (which is absurd, 'cos if you're looking for it, you're fgonna find it, even if it's the most innocuous email ever, where he emailed your best friend to plan a dinner for your birthday - you're in the headspace already that it's fucked up, and you're not gonna listen when he tells you it was a surprise for you)(this may or may not be from personal experience; do with it as you will) - you're gonna be convinced he's HIDING IT, and you're gonna KEEP looking until you DO find it.

And really? How is that good for anyone?

So, y'know: quit it. Don't be an asshole. Give your honey the respect and privacy you would want.

Here endeth the lesson.

Tags: , , ,

16CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Monday, August 3rd, 2009 01:05 pm
Dear World:

How's about you go eat a bag of dicks?

Glass ones. That have been shattered. And will rip you to pieces. How about that?

FAB.

Then, once that's all done, it would be pretty swell if you would spontaneously combust and die in a fire.

Thanks ever so:
me

PS: This message brought to you by general cockhattedness, sleepy uterus, and general irritability.

Tags: ,

3CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Tuesday, July 28th, 2009 05:31 pm

If you have been, like me, COMPLETELY SUCKED INTO Twilight and utterly fucking mortified about it (because you are sane, hello, and no one in that universe is remotely close to that. As Buffy would've said - and did, I believe at some point - "your logic does not resemble our earth logic"), then I HAVE FOUND THE THING FOR YOU.

'Cos it is brilliant and snarky and perfect and it makes me want to cry 'cos I am trying to hold in the laughter.

So, you know: BEHOLD!

There are recaps of the whole series, including Bonus!Midnight Sun thingie. For added LOLarity, check out Growing Up Cullen. No, really. Icon is from that bit, actually. "She needs love, not a penis in her behind!" *cracking up*

How do you NOT love "fursplode?" I ASK YOU!

Y'all. I am not even kidding. Reading this stuff is pretty much making my face hurt from trying not to FER REALS laugh out loud and cry from the sheer amusement I am suffering on this front. It's ridiculous. And so, so perfect.

I haven't been this amused since the MBTV? TWOP recaps of Buffy back in the day (and by "the day" I mean: when it was on and before Tara sold to Bravo).

Aaaaannnndddd. That is today's bit of completely unhinged silliness. You're welcome. I now return you to your regularly scheduled insanity.

Tags: , ,
Current Mood: enthralled enthralled
Current Music: Tori Amos. Also: rain.

CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Sunday, May 24th, 2009 03:24 pm

It's one of the quirks of this modern life that we're so connected by these tiny filiments of high-speed optic cables.

Over the last ten years, I've read any number of blogs. Some I read regularly, some occasionally. Some are funny, some are filled with pathos, some are inspirational, some are lives I'll never have.

I'll never meet these people, but because they choose to share their lives via these spider-thin bits of connective cable, I can't help but feel as though in some amorphous way that I know them. You see their small triumphs, you observe their loves and losses.

There are a few that these through channels have afforded me the opprtunity to start relationships. Watched those relationships grow, seen wedding pictures, read the day-to-day simple beauties of a joyful loving lives.

Then one day, you realise that the spouse isn't mentioned anymore, you see the efforts to distract themselves from saying anything, and you ache for this person you'll never meet. You find yourself wanting to reach out and comfort this stranger because s/he has touched your life, and you can see by the conspicious absence that the love story has gone wrong in a horribly prosaic way.

But you can't, not really, 'cos you don't actually know them. And you find yourself adding additional pain to your daily life, because suddenly you find that these people who have no actual connection to have become part of your life in a very real way.

The world keeps getting smaller, but our lives get larger in scope by the people we'd never have found without this. It hurts sometimes, but the benefits can be incredible with the depth and bredth of experience we now are provided.

Tags: ,

1CommentReplyShare

ihvpave
ihvpave
Obnoxious, Funny, True, and Mean
Monday, May 4th, 2009 12:34 pm

If you smoke, used to smoke and miss it (but don't want the ICK of the stank or the tar in your lungs or wahtever), will you - as a personal favour to me - go here and buy some shit?

I was informed that we are having a sales contest this month, in which I must participate... But I'm going to be GONE for half of the damn month, which makes it all very difficult for me to even come close to being competitive.

The rad thing about these is that they are actually cheaper than the equivalent number of traditional smokes (I did the math, of course, 'cos I am a nerd like that), and if you're one of those folks that likes SMOKING but not all the nicotine bits... well, there's an option for that too! Also: fer serious: COFFEE FLAVOURED. Nom.

So, you know... Help a sister out. I don't usually peddle or pimp shit here, but they're kinda making a big deal about selling faux smokes, and I like my job.

(Yes, you can actually smoke them on planes - we've done it! And no, it's not actual SMOKE though it does look like it).

Hit me up if you want more info. Or if you have a site that you wanna put 'em on . You get PAID 'n ev'rthang!

Tags: ,

8CommentReplyShare