I think I'm becoming racist.
Or I just don't like people in general. But I'll let you decide.
I work at a gym, the pool part of they gym to be specific and I've really started hating people. Particularly asian people (with the exception of one guy who is really nice). It seems like they just cause trouble. It all started when that woman took a guy's goggles and they ended up in a yelling match over it. She was asian. Then there's the woman who can't seem to find a bathing suit that doesn't show her nipples (also asian). Or the woman we termed Godzilla's mother (asian), Green Penis man (asian), the guy who has the kid who can't swim, the kid that throws the ball at his grandmother repeatedly (all asain). Oh, my favorite, the guy who hangs his bag over the ring bouy even after we've told him he can't do it. And guess what, he's also asian.
Mike also hates asian people, and I can't say I blame him. He's upstairs and it seems like it's always the asian people who cause the most trouble for him. The woman who asks a question then tells him he's wrong, or the one who barks orders at him like he's a dog, the ones that ask him to change the channel, but won't tell him what channel to change it to, the ones that don't use the equipment right and then tell other people how to use it wrong as well. Yep, all asian. I really think I'm becoming... asianist?
But then there's The Void. I'm not sure what ethnicity this guy is but he is blacker than black and he's not a black man. He's stupid. He has a little girl who is just as black and can't swim and he claims that she can and I want to drown them both. I hate them.
Then there's the fat people. I'm telling you now, if you're significantly overweight, hairy, bulge-y, or just generally gross and disgusting, don't wear a speedo or a bikini! And they're mean! They argue with you about getting out of the pool, they dive into the water and then don't understand why they get yelled at. It's fricken 4-5.5 feet of water! I hate fat people. Does that make me fatist? Or facist?
Then I really can't stand guys who are shorter than me that insist on thinking they stand a chance at flirting with me. There's this one guy and no matter when he sees me he has this undying urge to wink at me. I have him by about 6 inches. Then there's the teenage boys that walk on deck and about ten minutes later I see them up in the window to the workout floor staring down at me, smiling and waving and I want to shoot myself. Or if I'm up working out, the short guy has to take the machine next to me and try to flirt with me. Now usually I don't care. But recent events have had me considering aspects of my past. Particularly my dating past, and I've decided something. Now that I'm actually dating someone who is taller than me, I will never again date someone my height. It's not going to happen, ever, ever again.
Heighthist. That is the determination.
I really think I just hate people. And I'm okay with that.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Monday, January 05, 2009
Backhanded bitch slapped...
A few of my friends have heard this already, but I want to make one thing clear: The next person to make a fricken comment about Ryan being my husband is going to clearly get backhanded bitch slapped across the face.
I go to make an appointment with my pt for next week and there's some fat new woman at the desk. So I hand her my perscription from the doctor and she looks up my file on the computer. She looks up my file! She's staring at it. Looks at the first name, looks at me and in all seriousness says "oh, so you're making appointments for your husband."
Do I fucking look like I'm married?! And even if I was married, the dude can get up off his own ass and make his own fucking appointment. Sorry, Charlie... not in my job description! For God's sake look at my hand... Do you see a ring there? NO! Get a fricken clue people!
Yes, I have a stereotypically male name, I've come to terms with that. But people need to stop making assumptions that I'm married just based on a fricken name!
Why do I have be married? I'm 23 years old, why the hell do I have to be married? Why is that the stereotype? Isn't it plausible in this day and age to be female, 23, and still in school and not married? Isn't it plausible that I'm independent and can think for myself without the help of a man, who only has enough blood in his body to run one head at a time? I'm not in middle America, I'm not in the bible belt, and I'm not in a time period where I would have to be married by 16 or otherwise considered an old maid. Get with it people!
This is the 21st century! Women are independent, we can vote, we can run for office, we have gotten past Sufferage and now have a place to stand in society. So why are we recessing? Why does every woman have to be married with children in order to be considered truly successful? Why must we work our bodies to the bone to achieve some distorted, screwed up vision of the American Dream? Stand up women! Go out on your own, publish your own work under your own name! Put your own name up in lights, not the name of some man because you seem to think that you can't be good without him! Achieve your dreams of greatness and independence!
I go to make an appointment with my pt for next week and there's some fat new woman at the desk. So I hand her my perscription from the doctor and she looks up my file on the computer. She looks up my file! She's staring at it. Looks at the first name, looks at me and in all seriousness says "oh, so you're making appointments for your husband."
Do I fucking look like I'm married?! And even if I was married, the dude can get up off his own ass and make his own fucking appointment. Sorry, Charlie... not in my job description! For God's sake look at my hand... Do you see a ring there? NO! Get a fricken clue people!
Yes, I have a stereotypically male name, I've come to terms with that. But people need to stop making assumptions that I'm married just based on a fricken name!
Why do I have be married? I'm 23 years old, why the hell do I have to be married? Why is that the stereotype? Isn't it plausible in this day and age to be female, 23, and still in school and not married? Isn't it plausible that I'm independent and can think for myself without the help of a man, who only has enough blood in his body to run one head at a time? I'm not in middle America, I'm not in the bible belt, and I'm not in a time period where I would have to be married by 16 or otherwise considered an old maid. Get with it people!
This is the 21st century! Women are independent, we can vote, we can run for office, we have gotten past Sufferage and now have a place to stand in society. So why are we recessing? Why does every woman have to be married with children in order to be considered truly successful? Why must we work our bodies to the bone to achieve some distorted, screwed up vision of the American Dream? Stand up women! Go out on your own, publish your own work under your own name! Put your own name up in lights, not the name of some man because you seem to think that you can't be good without him! Achieve your dreams of greatness and independence!
Truth...
"Truth like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold. You push it. You stretch it, it'll never be enough. You kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us. From the moment we enter crying to the moment we leave dying, it'll cover just your face as you wail and cry and scream."
-Todd Anderson, DPS
First of all, Dead Poets Society is my all time favorite movie. It's what inspired me to want to work with teenagers. So last night I watched it with my best friend, which I love because she's someone I can actually discuss the movie with and a philosophical and deep level. She gets it, she understands. She's the Neil to my Todd/Dalton (minus the whole dying thing).
Anyway, that quote is something we discussed last night and it also happened to be a topic for a free-write paper I had to do for Comp II and I would like to discuss that here because I think it is something that should be shared, for lack of a better word.
Whenever I read this quote I visualize a small child, a toddler, with their security blanket. When we're small we're scared and so we have this security blanket that covers our entire body and hides us from the things we're scared of. But as we grow and experience more we're scared of less and the blanket shrinks. We don't need it anymore. But somewhere along the lines we realize our own mortality. Somewhere we get scared again, but we can no longer hide underneath our security blanket. We know too much, we've experienced too much and we can't hide from what it is that is scaring us. It doesn't matter how much we cry, or how much we resist we have to face the truth.
And sometimes the truth hurts. Sometimes it makes us cry and scream, sometimes it makes us want to curl up in a ball and ignore the rest of the world for a while. But in the end we have to accept it as the truth and learn to deal with it. It sucks, to put it bluntly. But sometimes, the truth doesn't hurt. It leads to great things and happy moments. But you're never really sure which is going to happen, and that's what makes us scared. It's those painful moments that make us stronger, it's those hurting truths that make the good times that much better.
So yes, truth is like a blanket, because somehow the truth will always get through and sometimes it's good and sometimes it's bad, but no matter what it will always be the truth.
-Todd Anderson, DPS
First of all, Dead Poets Society is my all time favorite movie. It's what inspired me to want to work with teenagers. So last night I watched it with my best friend, which I love because she's someone I can actually discuss the movie with and a philosophical and deep level. She gets it, she understands. She's the Neil to my Todd/Dalton (minus the whole dying thing).
Anyway, that quote is something we discussed last night and it also happened to be a topic for a free-write paper I had to do for Comp II and I would like to discuss that here because I think it is something that should be shared, for lack of a better word.
Whenever I read this quote I visualize a small child, a toddler, with their security blanket. When we're small we're scared and so we have this security blanket that covers our entire body and hides us from the things we're scared of. But as we grow and experience more we're scared of less and the blanket shrinks. We don't need it anymore. But somewhere along the lines we realize our own mortality. Somewhere we get scared again, but we can no longer hide underneath our security blanket. We know too much, we've experienced too much and we can't hide from what it is that is scaring us. It doesn't matter how much we cry, or how much we resist we have to face the truth.
And sometimes the truth hurts. Sometimes it makes us cry and scream, sometimes it makes us want to curl up in a ball and ignore the rest of the world for a while. But in the end we have to accept it as the truth and learn to deal with it. It sucks, to put it bluntly. But sometimes, the truth doesn't hurt. It leads to great things and happy moments. But you're never really sure which is going to happen, and that's what makes us scared. It's those painful moments that make us stronger, it's those hurting truths that make the good times that much better.
So yes, truth is like a blanket, because somehow the truth will always get through and sometimes it's good and sometimes it's bad, but no matter what it will always be the truth.
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