“You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect - you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there.”—Bob Marley (via myundertaking)
I realized once I put it on that this great new-to-me drapey sweater flashes a whole bunch of side from certain common angles/positions. But I wore it to work without an undershirt anyhow. (Now my elbows keep rubbing on my naked flesh and it feels kind of scandalous.)
But then, the truth was never really the point. Thin women don’t tell their fat friends ‘You’re not fat’ because they’re confused about the dictionary definition of the word, or their eyes are broken, or they were raised on planets where size 24 is the average for women. They don’t say it because it’s the truth. They say it because fat does not mean just fat in this culture. It can also mean any or all of the following:
Just plain icky
So when they say ‘You’re not fat,’ what they really mean is ‘You’re not a dozen nasty things I associate with the word fat.’ The size of your body is not what’s in question; a tape measure or a mirror could solve that dispute. What’s in question is your goodness, your lovability, your intelligence, your kindness, your attractiveness. And your friends, not surprisingly, are inclined to believe you get high marks in all those categories. Ergo, you couldn’t possibly be fat.
But I really don’t know how to get there. My workload is really overwhelming most of the time, and so I have difficulty putting in really focused work for shorter periods of time. I also feel like I can’t break up my workday how it would work best for me (e.g., pomodoro style or taking mini naps or dance breaks) because I share an office with other people.I even find it difficult to not work overtime on a regular/daily basis. Both because there’s so much to do, and I’m trying to stay caught up (i.e., I care too much about the job and not enough about myself), and because if I leave when my actual workday is up I’d be heading home before anyone else (which ends up being tricky for various reasons).
HOWEVER. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about my life, and where to go from here, and so on, and I feel like I’m on the road to changing these things. I need to give myself permission to say no, and to disappoint people, and to rest, and to not get some things done so that I have the possibility of getting other things done. I think I also need to pare down some aspect of my life, and fill out others. This feels like a pivotal/transitional time for me. We’ll see how things go.
I was doing an interview once, and this guy goes, “So you must be pretty psyched about all this ‘Slumdog Millionaire’ stuff?”
And I was like, “Um, yeah, I am.” I have no idea why though. I had nothing to do with that movie. It’s just some people that kind of look like me are in this movie that everyone loves, and winning Oscars and stuff.
And then I was like, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Are white people just psyched all the time?” It’s, like, “‘Back to the Future’! That’s us! ‘Godfather’! That’s us! ‘Godfather Part II’! That’s us! ‘Departed’! That’s us! ‘Sunset Boulevard’! That’s us! ‘Citizen Kane’! That’s us! ‘Jaws’! That’s us! Every fucking movie but ‘Slumdog Millionaire’ and ‘Boyz n the Hood’ is us! We are white people! Suck our dicks!”
90s dance music understands me because all the lyrics are something about how if you keep dancing your dreams will come true and if you just keep dancing life becomes one big party and nothing else matters so
s/o to all of you to get your booty on the floor tonight and make someone’s day
Casual/insidious racism or classism or sexism or ableism or cissexism or sizeism or heterosexism or colonialism,etc. may in some ways be more harmful than the overt varieties.
Why? Because people who don’t consciously/purposefully oppress others generally seem to be under the impression that they must not be oppressing other people at all. But these things are structural, and if you are not in some way working against or resisting those structures that are benefitting you, and if you’re still ignoring that they exist, and if you are furthering them by assuming you know more about these structures than the people they were built to keep down, well, then I think you are probably still racist/classist/sexist/ableist/cissexist/sizeist/heterosexist/colonialist/etc. Even though you don’t use racial slurs and you support same-sex marriage and some of your best friends are fat.
Subtle bigotry is also way harder to confront than overt bigotry. I find it hard to decide what stuff I want to point out to people and what not to bother with and what I might have just misunderstood. And there’s a similar issue internally, where I don’t feel like I’m a bigot, but more and more I realize how often I do and say and support oppressive and hurtful things without meaning to or realizing it. I think and hope I’m catching myself a bit more over time, but being on the privileged side of so many of these things, I have the privilege of being able to forget and overlook and be ignorant of a lot of oppression. And that is scary to me.
So when someone calls you (or me) out for white supremacist or cissexist or classist behaviour, trust that there is likely some truth in there, even if you’re “not a REAL _______”. Not knowing you’re fucking up doesn’t make it better. In fact it probably makes it worse.
I feel selfish and weird because a friend just took stress leave from her job (which is WAY more emotionally/physically/psychologically demanding than mine will ever be), and my reaction was a mixture of relief and being glad for her and also being envious and confused. I don’t really actually even understand the concept of “stress leave,” I guess. It seems like maybe a thing I need/want, but it also seems completely and utterly foreign and inaccessible. I’m going to go soon. I can’t work any overtime today.
YO I REALLY HATE THE CONTEMPORARY DISCOURSE THAT PRIVILEGES ‘no feelings’ and is intensely suspicious of strong romantic connections (or really, almost any strong connection with another human being).
And people wonder why they’re numb all the time, and find it…
I’m also really glad to hear this, especially from someone I don’t know. Makes me feel less odd. I wrote most of a post about this a week or so ago, but didn’t finish/post it. I should do that. Or just post it anyhow instead of shelving it indefinitely. (When I saved it I found another mostly-written post from months earlier which I decided to just post unfinished.)