Who has never had a crush on a teacher before? I for one know I have had plenty of pre-teen and adolescent crushes. Very few of them had anything to do with how the teacher was dressed, but I’m a creepy girl I’m told.
Paris Monroe is an attractive woman and has a body type that ‘attracts attention’. I remember when my curves were just starting to come in, the first thing my mother told me about them was to cover them up. Other people will have a problem with my body and I should always make sure other people aren’t offended by my presence. As a good daughter I abided by this ‘cover up rule’ even when I didn’t necessarily agree with it.
I understood that if someone did something to me because of how I looked then it was my fault for looking that way. That may not have been what my mother meant me to learn but that is burned into my brain and its going to take a lot longer for that little missile of wisdom to leave me. When I was in 9th grade, there was a teacher in another class who wore heels to work. Heels! The scandal she caused. Then it was the pencil skirts and fitted blouses. This heathenous woman was taking children’s minds off their school is what the adults around me said often. My mum was also a teacher and when you hang out in her classroom after hours they forget you are there and chat away without any filters.
Here’s the thing though, her classes passed. Young girls wanted to be as bad assery as her, young boys saw another version of what a woman could be. Why would these things be bad? Why do we feel the need to save women from themselves? If a woman chooses to wear a bodycon dress or an abaya should be up to her.
Why shouldn’t a teacher be trendy if thats what she’s passionate about? Other body types wear the same outfit without the same ‘effect’ so we need to distinguish what is appropriate and what we perceive and infer.
That’s what I would like to take away, if a woman wants to wear a shift that covers her whole shape then she should be able to. If she wants to wear a slinky number then that should be her choice too.
If she’s terrible at her job, chances are her outfits wont change that.
The title I really wanted to use was a question Tyrion Lannister asks himself after his father “sends away” Tyrion’s wife. I remember reading it and my heart had all the feels for poor Tyrion but I don’t know that its an appropriate question for a heading. Especially after such a long break.
How have y’all been? I have to be honest I’m not sure I’ve been entirely alright because it feels like I’m ‘not where I should be’? Yes, I know, this isn’t new and I apologise for being so self absorbed right now but I think I need to purge my brain of all the negatives its hoarding.
First off. Life is good. I really cant fault that I am blessed/lucky/privileged. In fact if I weren’t such a greedy sod I would probably be very content but I am a greedy sod and I want more than just ‘contentment’.
I’m stuck on what ‘happens next’ in my life because I want to be self sufficient and control my own time while determining its value. I hate the fact that I work for a single payment at the end of the month that I cant adjust or negotiate and yet I pour way more time than I signed up for to ‘earn it’. As much as I hate to admit it, it irks my soul. I don’t think I’m a perfectionist. I’m way too messy and comfortable with dirt in my life for that but I am ‘ambitious.’
What I’ve discovered is, my ambition is not traditional and I live in a generally traditional part of the world. That means you work hard in an organisation so you get promoted high enough that you no longer have to work hard but still get paid plenty (and no one messes with your parking).
The problem is, what I want is to faff about till 10 in the morning, work like a beast till 6 in the evening, play house until 10 that evening and still have enough energy to work like a beast till 2 in the morning. I cant do that in a traditional setting.
Recently an opportunity came upo at my previous work place that would have been a definite step up, twice the pay, additional perks. I brushed up my CV thinking, ‘yeah, I can definitely do the job’. Then I stared at a blank page that was my motivational letter. I wrote down a schpiel about how I both lead and participate in teams (true), I’m self motivated (true) and then I got stuck at trying to convince the reader that I would be the best person for the job. Not because I didn’t believe that I was. While I believe I can do the job I dont believe I can live and breathe it without feeling a whole bunch of negatives about it. I’d be a beast at acing things that matter to the bigger picture but make me feel even less of myself.
What I want is to commit to something that I can live and breathe without feeling shitty about the lil pieces of of me I lose to my work.
I never sent an application in and someone else got the job and they seem like a good fit. A few weeks later I met a woman who literally loves her job and doesn’t mind that she can spend 12 hour days at the office, go home and read more so she’s ahead of her curve and still think about her work on the weekends!
Normally I’d tear myself up with coulda woulda shoulda but I didn’t this time. The logical part of my brain would say ‘Of course she loves her job, she makes a truckload’, but that isnt it. Money is great. I want more of it. But I want a certain quality of life more.
Maybe I’m finally giving myself permission to be the version of myself that the little girl I once was has always wanted to be.
So… My take on why love doesn’t need to be proven by Valentine’s celebrations.
I’m not known for being emotional or affectionate. This may have something to do with me leaning the wrong way on a particular psychopath scale but I believe I’m still relatively ‘normal’, granted I’ve never officially been tested but I digress… VALENTINE’S! The day when love is declared in swirls of chocolate, hues of red and drowned in copious amounts of alcoholic beverages. Single or not.
My “problem” with Valentine’s isn’t anything ‘new’ or unique I don’t think. Its the fact that love can ‘only‘ be declared publicly and preferably expensively. A day may come when I will celebrate this day not for what it means to my heart but for what it means to my wallet.
Here’s the thing, I LOVE love. I love being able to sit in a living room with a laundry basket overflowing and it not mattering because the company I’m with makes it not matter that I haven’t achieved perfect cleanliness. I love the fact that because I am terrible in the morning, the person I share my bed with gets up to ‘start life’ and I join him.
Love (for me) isn’t about what other people see. Its about how you feel when no one is looking. So often, we idolize couples that lavishly brandish their affections and it hangs in the air like a cheap cologne choking the rest of us, and while we scramble for air, we forget that love isn’t about what people see, its about how we feel.
I could talk about how you can boost your romantic feelings with less than 5 steps in a specific order but there are way more expert resources on that than I can count. I’d like to talk about Valentine’s friends.
When you were younger, did you have a (totally platonic, possible even same sex) friend you shared Valentine’s with because they ‘got you’ and no one else did. I’ve had a pretty decent run of friends I’ve ‘gotten’ and ‘got’ me back but the older I get, I find I’m losing the ability to hold on to those with quite the same depth. I get more impatient and convinced that I’m just a filler in their lives.
I haven’t had a truck load of friends even though I’ve had the opportunity to amass an eye watering number of connections on any social platform. I normally have 3 – 5 really good friends and never enough drama to piss anyone off enough to actually make them an enemy but the problem is that small pool seems to have been contaminated by life somehow. Some of the people that I thought ‘got’ me seem to be speaking in a tongue I don’t have a dictionary for and they make me feel like I’m smaller than I believe myself to be. And friends who love you should never actually do that.
Which reminds me of Valentine’s when I wanted to receive those aforementioned chocolate, red stuff and pretty bubbly drinks but never did because well… my face just didn’t call for it.
Love comes in many forms but the feels remain the same. Those that love you should leave you feeling bigger or at least somehow better than you felt without them. Once they start to make you feel smaller, you need to evaluate whether having them around fits some kind of external validation but doesn’t feed your feels and whether its worth it.
I hope I make those that I love feel bigger and if I cant then better, in whatever form that comes in. But those that make me feel less. I’ve taken a step back and know I need to cull them from my life but still have brief flashes of ‘That’e the you I love and have missed’ but then we revert back to me somehow feeling smaller and that feeling sucks.
Here’s to catching and keeping those feels that build us up and obliterating the feels that diminish us.
Happy Valentine’s Day for those that celebrate it and for those that don’t. May the love still tickle your skirts.
I don’t know how to do this really, listening to my inner voice isn’t something I’m actually good at but I do hope to one day be a master of myself… and that should not be taken in pompous way but I truly want to know how I can make the best version of myself and what that means.
For the longest time all I’ve known is that the best version of myself is the one that makes other people happy. At all costs. Even if I suffer my own version of (internal) death by a million cuts in the process, its all worth it people are “happy” with me.
Emotions I knew well were anxiety, dissatisfaction and the self importance that comes with believing you are a martyr to your own bloody cause. I cant imagine why anyone was friends with me because I must have been infuriating to be around.
The older I get the less satisfied I am with being ‘the best’ purely for being the best.
I’ve held myself back on my writing goals because I’m trying to write a ‘Great American Novel’ and I’m not even American. What I am is a mental immigrant. This may be a result of literally being an immigrant for the majority of my life but I travel through stories, some of them pretty ‘awful’ and others are literary masterpieces but all of them thoroughly engaging . My voice cant be fully literary and I’ve been forcing it to be just that. Turns out what really tickles my knickers is good ol’ fashioned fantasy (with leanings on urban and dark fantasy), historical jaunts and steampunk. The way I used shook my head when my younger sister would bring home yet another (what I considered) godawful travesty of litera-ture with a half naked girl on the cover… if only I’d known the fire that that would inflame in me (that is not a well constructed sentence).
Anywho, I rarely make new year’s resolutions because I suck at keeping them but I definitely am more self focused on what actually keeps me happy and not on what I THINK should keep me happy.
I also don’t know long this wind will last but I will sail on with it thrusting my bosom ever forward.
There’s this couple on Season 27 of The Amazing Race that seems to rub everyone else the wrong way because of how much they argue. These people just aren’t “nice” to each other at all. At. All.
They are Chris and Logan. It doesn’t help that they are also The Paparazzi Couple so people don’t like what they do for a living and have to pretend not to hear their yelling fests. If you want to have a chance at winning a race, making it easy for people to leave your company may not be such a great strategy.
First up, there’s something about the way Logan talks that reminds me of an old friend of mine. They are nothing alike really (and far as I know, my friend is pleasant in her relationships) but there’s an underlying vibe there… and it really has nothing to do with my comparison so I’m hopping off this train now.
Anywho, the main problem for this couple is they generally can’t communicate to each other. Not effectively. They seem like pretty nice people on their own and I can even imagine them having quite pleasant down times together but throw in stress and they implode (with special effects).
Now, I’m not a relationship expert but I couldn’t help watching them to try and figure out why they were the way they are because like I said, they don’t seem like nasty people.
From what I gather, things start to go downhill when Chris tries to do things and they end up ‘wrong’. Logan then loses her mind over it and he joins in the self-bashing tirade. That’s a pretty dangerous mix of actions because one person can’t always be wrong. Chris isn’t a saint but when things blow up, that generally seemed to be the normal chain of events and whether there was a valid “wrong” initiating action or not is up for debate but for them: He messes up, she gets frustrated with him and he gets frustrated with himself and they yell at each other.
I’ve been in close proximity to one of these yelling type of relationships and I hated being around it. Hated. Then I found myself spiralling into the same pattern and had to take a step back. In my case, that meant Singles Ville but I don’t believe that needs to be the case for this couple. Should they get help, absolutely. With a professional. There’s a root here with both of them that makes their deficiencies compatible but they can move from that to positive compatibility. Or they can just stick to the same cycle coz it’s a fit they know.
If you’ve ever been part of That Couple (or currently are) what makes all the drama worth the non-dramatic times?
I have a lil nephew and have been thinking of what nursery rhymes I’d like to share with him when he is old enough to understand them. Right now he only communicates by shoving things in his mouth which is adorable when said thing may not kill him.
There’s this horrid poem I did and I’m going to teach it to him in about a few months. I’m certain his parents will hate it but it will be our thing *evil grin*
Disclaimer: I am terrible at rhymes and rhyming in general. I have no future in rap, hip hop or anything in that area.
One day I may write nursery rhymes but this is just a practise.
The Bear and I
“There once was a bear who lived in my shoe
He had nine lives and three spots blue
They hid in his armpit and cried ‘I hate you!’
I never gave the bear a name
But he stayed in my shoe all the same
And I cant figure out on who to lay the blame
The spot’s cries to both the bear and I
Made me wince and weep from my left eye
I’ll strangle and maim them or die with my last try”
On the horrid scale, does it make your eyes bleed?
Lately I’ve been pondering the difference between right and good. When I was younger what I wanted to be was right. Left, right, up down. All the ways. RIGHT meant winning and who doesn’t want their version of victory.
The older I get more I want to be good as opposed to right.
Its not that I wasn’t being “good” when I was being right but if I am truly honest with myself, good just never felt as big as right did.
Some of the things that have me questioning that are “doing the right thing”. I’m not sure we live in a world where that is as clean a statement as it could have been in the past, it is also possible I’m romanticising the past too and I acknowledge that, however, when options were limited it was very easy to draw clear and established boundaries. When your only choices as a woman was to get a decent enough education to find a ‘good husband’ and then keep the home, the thought of pursuing a career in aviation is not really an option. The right thing in that situation is to make the best home you can.
Now, when you can go to university as a woman and decide to not only not get married if you like and also pick a career that means you never set roots anywhere that’s not an easy ‘right’ decision, as the more we move towards ‘selfish’ self fulfillment the more we stray from our own society’s version of ‘right’.
So our criteria needs to change, what is ‘right’ isn’t a sufficient measure for whether an action should be pursued or not.
What is ‘good’, assumes there is a ‘recipient’ and not the blanket ‘acceptance’ that ‘right’ promotes (does that make sense?). I have some friends that it would be right to maintain because it makes me a douchebag not to be friendly to them but it is not what is good because I feel that connection has broken, in fact I even question sometimes what it was built on in the first place. We no longer build each other or create a positive environment for each other to grow or even just mulch and I want to mulch in pleasant relationships.
The right thing is to maintain the people who have always been there, the good thing is to accept that they no longer as present as they used to be and we’ve grown into people that cant create a new definition that reflects that.
How do y’all treat the difference between right and good?
This year has not been great for updating my wee patch of virtual garden space. If this was an attempt at regular writing practice, I have failed dismally!
Its NaNoWriMo month! According to my profile I have been a participant/member for 6 years… I hadn’t realised I had 6 years worth of not producing that was publically viewable! *Cringe*
NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month (or NaNo) and the aim is to write 50,000 words in 30 days. On it’s own that’s not really RAH-RAH worthy but it does become exciting because of the support network created during that time. A bunch of strangers all striving for the same goal, cheering each other on when there’s a dip, celebrating success. It’s what good stories are made of! Pun totally intended.
I’m not generally a people person so I have never really taken part in the “community” aspect of NaNo but I can’t help wondering, perhaps that is why I have never ‘won’ a NaNo. Granted that could also be because I was too lazy, didn’t have an idea worthy of 50,000 words or just plain didn’t want it enough but you know… who’s counting?
In the past six months I’ve set lofty ambitions of what next year will look like. I know in my gut where my heart lies but the freakin’ fear monster keeps me trapped in the safety of my own discomfort. I want to rock the bloody boat I’m sailing but I’m terrified of sinking.
A friend of mine is considering becoming a housewife. Got me thinking: is that what I’d like for myself? My heart says no, I need something “other” than raising children and maintaining a home (as if those aren’t demanding enough), but I want to ACHIEVE something that will remain behind. Something that carries my name or whatever version of it I choose to put out. You could easily say children do that but the little people you make become their own people. You are only their custodian until they figure out they make who they are. You can plant an acorn seed in the ground and nurture it till your grandkids make out under it but you are not that tree.
I have another friend who tells me to enjoy the life I’m living and not focus so much on wanting more because I’ll just make myself miserable… I get that and acknowledge I am pretty bloody blessed but I want more.
I want to outlast the life I’m living, who else has that feeling?
Anywho, I’m just letting the few of you left on this desert patch that I’m still alive and plotting global domination. Starting first with slaying my fear monster!
Two of my friends got married recently in what could be considered “whirlwind romances” and while I vehemently deny having any romantic stirrings, there are a lot of books in my Kindle that suggest my fantasies involve being whisked away in a large poofy dress with layers of frills by a fellow with excellent horsemanship.
Here’s the thing, romance requires certain logic to go out the window. Logic I am VERY attached to even if I have minor flights of fancy. Romance and Marriage don’t often go hand in hand and when they do I suspect there is some fakery. But that doesnt mean I think one is bad or better than the other, they are just different.
Marriage is like fruit cake. Pop a piece in your mouth and your tongue has to deal with all those textures and if you’re lucky, its moist and rich. If not, its bland and dry. But all those ingredients are there, you just have to hope you had a baker that knew what they were doing.
Romance is like meringue, rush of sugar that tkes over your whole mouth. If you pick a bad batch there’s an eggy smell and could make your gums bleed. If you are lucky though…. ehrmagahd! All that sugary crunch and soft and I am lost in the dream right now.
Now, why are my friend’s nuptials worth talking about? Because my opinion about them DOES NOT MATTER. It really shouldn’t.
Marriage is a promise two people make, those two people have (hopefully) common goals and dreams THEY want to achieve. Everyone else is background noise.
So, as Valentine’s Day rears its round red head, try and find that balance between the dream of romance and the comfort of old love.
I’m not going to ask any question today but simply, love and be loved. Nestle into the euphoria Valentine’s can give and then don’t wait till next year to maintain that balance.
Recently I’ve found myself in scenarios where I’ve had to question what is truly important to me and I’m going to share them with you. Because I have work that needs doing but these thoughts are distracting me.
The First incident occurred while the dude and I were watching “What If” (if you want to see Daniel Radcliffe as a love sick drop out who could teach Harry Potter a thing or two and are a fan of quippy dialogue and have at least one romantic bone in your body then you should definitely check it out). I hate the title and don’t think it does the movie any justice but anywho, while watching it I was rooting for the female lead to go to Taiwan very strongly. So strongly it was actually impairing my ability to simply enjoy the movie because I was pushing my own agenda. She had a choice between going to Taiwan to develop her career OR stay in Toronto and have a stagnant career but stay with the potential (but as yet uncertain) love of her life OR maybe (and this was a distant third) pursue a relationship with someone she has been with for eons and go to Dublin because his career had taken him there but start from scratch with no prospects.
The Second Incident was going to a corporate function where I had a chance to meet a rather senior female executive that should have inspired me to believe that my own career could end at CEO level of a multinational and not that I don’t think this could happen but I spotted someone I was on campus with. I can’t remember if she was in my year or earlier than me but she was significantly further in her career than I was and I remember being impressed by the fact that she gets to travel as part of a senior executive entourage and has an opinion that commands attention. I never confirmed if she was at university with me because we didn’t have much in common. I was aware of her but we weren’t friends and it would have been a waste of both our time to start a conversation that I couldn’t hold simply because I was feeling sorry for myself at not being “at her level”.
The Third Incident of discovery was hearing of a former colleague of mine who is being considered for a position that would catapult his career at least three shots ahead of where it is now (and by default ahead of me). I really do hope he makes the move because not only would he be an ace at the role but his mind is bored where it is and this could be a chance to wake up the parts of him that his current role has deadened.
Now, why did these three things cause me self introspection (other than the fact that I must be some mega self absorbed individual to make all these things about myself)? I really am not that self involved but I do think there are lessons all around us if we are willing to see them.
So, with the “What If” sitch, it’s for me to see what I sought in my own life. It is so easy for women to lose their identities in their relationships and then convince themselves that what their partner wants is what they want even when they know it isn’t. I am not yet at a point where I have lost my sense of self but I am fearful that it has dulled a bit and will continue to slowly dull till in a few years I wont recognise myself.
Now, like most people I wear multiple faces. The most basic of these are the “work” and “home” faces. At work, no one can contest that I am dedicated to my job and am more than just “fairly competent”. At home I am the dutiful daughter and responsible sister. Both these faces aren’t me though, somewhere behind being dedicated and responsible, is a girl who decided to go to Japan for two weeks because it was a dream that she didn’t want to lose. A girl who wants to sit in a welcoming office dissecting how minds work both by telling stories that answer my own questions and speaking to people to get to their own. On a daily basis I do things to feed the work and home faces but nothing to feed the girl and she is beginning to scratch at me (again), warn me that if I don’t feed her she will climb into a cave, roll a large rock behind her and refuse to ever come out. And I am not sure I want to lose her.
Here’s the thing with the campus-mate scenario. I hate public speaking… or rather I am so fearful of judgement/embarrassment/failure that even though I’ve been told I am not terrible at it I cannot enjoy it or see my good points. What I wanted out of this campus-mate’s life was to go somewhere where no one knows you and command attention firstly because the company you keep gives your presence weight and then when you open your mouth you can carry your own because you know your sh#*. I’m not the greatest “public” person either. I am terrible at small talk, suck at jokes and crowds irk me. I don’t think I have a disorder or a severe anxiety but I definitely have a “healthy fear of ridicule” but that doesn’t stop me wanting to have a certain gravitas in public situations.
The third scenario was a little trickier to sort out because not even I understood it at the time. When I was telling The Fella about this person’s potential career projection I said I didn’t want “that”. He asked what I meant and I didn’t have a ready answer and then something more interesting on Buzzfeed took our attention but later on I thought about it. What was the “that” that I didn’t want?
It came to me on coming out of a nightmare of a ghost of a woman who eats children by licking them (because she ate her own babies slowly while they were still alive… I’m pretty sure I fleshed that out on waking up but it’s a compelling idea that has nestled itself in the folds of my brain because I don’t know why she did it), anyway I digress. The “that” was me not wanting to lose myself in the pursuit of an external measure of success that wasn’t part of my personal goal. This person’s personal ambitions are very far removed from this opportunity and if he chooses to take it, it will be even harder to go back onto his personal path because material rewards can be VERY gratifying and his personal ambition doesn’t guarantee that. The promotion does.
I don’t want to lose myself to fulfilling the campus-mate recognition by ANY means, I want to do it by MY means. You know the saying, by hook or by crook? I want all hook baby! No crook here.
But that is at odds of what I ACTUALLY do. I know the girl is screaming to get out so I shove a cupcake in her face and go read a book, play the xbox or watch TV, heck I even delude myself that I am a gardener and prune a rose bush! I know she needs to feed but I am scared of indulging her because its easier to focus on other distractions and its nice not to feel like a failure. If I get promotions I cant be that bad career wise. If I’m getting married then its proof I am not such a deplorable person because someone wants to spend the rest of their lives with me. But these things do not make the me that I am left alone with on either side of my nightmares feel any better. These things are great but they aren’t enough. I ran away from NaNoWriMo this year because I’ve failed it both years I actively tried it out. I don’t “write” because I think my words are garbage but I entertain ideas and then tell myself everyone has them so I’m not a genius for dreaming things up. That isn’t hard, doing something about the dream is and I’m killing mine.
So, after that lengthy post, how are you starving that inner girl/boy and more importantly what are you doing about it? If you aren’t, tell me about how you’re doing it. I am shelving up a bunch of emotions for a huge ass ugly cry tonight for all my failures (real and hocus pocus) and then I am starting again from scratch. I’m not going to lay down my plan here right now (because I haven’t the foggiest what it is yet) but I need to figure things out.
And then actually do the work, which can suck balls.