Think about it. Twitter is the greatest invention for nerds that has ever existed. Ok, maybe the second greatest after the invention of television, which allowed nerds to not only read nerdy things, but to see those nerdy things brought to life. Twitter is second only to that. It allows us to take our nerd-dom to a whole new level of obsession.
With a few simple clicks of a few buttons, every nerd is allowed to practically stalk his or her favorite actors, actresses, directors, and writers without feeling guilty about it. Why is twitter guilt-free? Because each and every tweet is put up by the celebrities themselves. The famous people control their twitters so if you know they're going to Chicago to celebrate Thanksgiving with their family (here's looking at you, Chloe Bennet), it isn't because you did some creepy internet stalking that is likely to end with the receipt of a restraining order. It's because she told you she was going.
I've also noticed that while I saw a picture of Neil Patrick Harris's Thanksgiving dinner, I don't feel as connected to him as I do to the actors in actresses in total nerd shows. The Whedonverse members, in particular, are always interactive with their fans, gracious, and grateful for the love. This allows people (me included) to feel they have an actual relationship with these people. It's the ultimate nerd fantasy. Well, not ultimate. It doesn't give us lightsabers or allow us to be beamed up by Mr. Scott. But these people allow us to have relationships with them. We can talk to them. They can talk to us. We can watch them have dance parties at 4:30 in the morning in the make-up trailer. We can exchange puns.
We get to know these people in a non-creepy and authentic way. Well as authentic as social media relationships can be - but it's 1,000,000 times more real and more awesome than reading gossip magazines and looking at photos taken from creeper-cams.
30 November 2013
24 November 2013
Redefining Feminism
Invisible lines have caused me a lot of problems in my life.
I don't know where they are. I tend to be overly confident in my understanding of them. Consequently, I stumble across and land on my face into the quagmire of the "other side" of the line with frightening frequency.
We walk along a lot of lines in our lives. We have to "toe them," but sometimes we "cross them" to serve a bigger purpose. One line, in particular, has been on my mind a lot recently. What is the line of feminine feminism? I guess, more accurately, the question would be where is the line? What is feminism, even? Not what it has been, but what it should be.
I consider myself a traditionalist. I have traditional values, traditional expectations, and believe in traditional gender roles. I considered myself - until very recently - to be about as far from a feminist as was humanly possible.
But something has changed. I like to think that I am a feminist, with the proper understanding of that word.
Feminism isn't about demeaning men.
Feminism isn't about burning our bras as we yell passionately about our rights.
Feminism isn't about turning women into men.
Feminism came about because it is enormously insulting and demeaning to have a patient refer to you as "your girl" to the doctor. Because hearing that makes you go, "excuse me??? I am nobody's girl."
Feminism came about because it is entirely unfair to be told, "Oh, it's okay, I expect you to make mistakes. You are a woman."
Feminism isn't about making women into these perfect beings who can do no wrong. It's about giving them the respect that is demanded by their human dignity. If I make a mistake, it's not because I'm a woman. It's because I'm human.
True femininity does not consist of skirt wearing, elegant jewelry, and a distaste for getting your hands dirty.
True feminism does not consist in angry rants and belittling men.
We need to redefine femininity and feminism. We need to retake them and make them real virtues.
Women: don't be ditzes. Don't be angry.
Be strong. Be compassionate. Be intelligent. Be gentle. Be selfless.
Don't attach your self-worth to an ideology that makes you less than you are, traditionalist or feminist. Don't look at the people on the other side of the line between femininity and feminism and condemn them. The truth of the matter is, there shouldn't be a line. No one should have to deny a whole aspect of their personhood. There is nothing unfeminine about independence. There is no reason to be ashamed of gentleness.
Why must we draw lines where there are none? We must redefine those words; we must change expectations.
We must be feminine, feminist women.
I don't know where they are. I tend to be overly confident in my understanding of them. Consequently, I stumble across and land on my face into the quagmire of the "other side" of the line with frightening frequency.
We walk along a lot of lines in our lives. We have to "toe them," but sometimes we "cross them" to serve a bigger purpose. One line, in particular, has been on my mind a lot recently. What is the line of feminine feminism? I guess, more accurately, the question would be where is the line? What is feminism, even? Not what it has been, but what it should be.
I consider myself a traditionalist. I have traditional values, traditional expectations, and believe in traditional gender roles. I considered myself - until very recently - to be about as far from a feminist as was humanly possible.
But something has changed. I like to think that I am a feminist, with the proper understanding of that word.
Feminism isn't about demeaning men.
Feminism isn't about burning our bras as we yell passionately about our rights.
Feminism isn't about turning women into men.
Feminism came about because it is enormously insulting and demeaning to have a patient refer to you as "your girl" to the doctor. Because hearing that makes you go, "excuse me??? I am nobody's girl."
Feminism came about because it is entirely unfair to be told, "Oh, it's okay, I expect you to make mistakes. You are a woman."
Feminism isn't about making women into these perfect beings who can do no wrong. It's about giving them the respect that is demanded by their human dignity. If I make a mistake, it's not because I'm a woman. It's because I'm human.
True femininity does not consist of skirt wearing, elegant jewelry, and a distaste for getting your hands dirty.
True feminism does not consist in angry rants and belittling men.
We need to redefine femininity and feminism. We need to retake them and make them real virtues.
Women: don't be ditzes. Don't be angry.
Be strong. Be compassionate. Be intelligent. Be gentle. Be selfless.
Don't attach your self-worth to an ideology that makes you less than you are, traditionalist or feminist. Don't look at the people on the other side of the line between femininity and feminism and condemn them. The truth of the matter is, there shouldn't be a line. No one should have to deny a whole aspect of their personhood. There is nothing unfeminine about independence. There is no reason to be ashamed of gentleness.
Why must we draw lines where there are none? We must redefine those words; we must change expectations.
We must be feminine, feminist women.
23 November 2013
Blog Your Heart | November 2013
Thanks, Steph, for starting another one of these up! I've done a couple on my own, but it's been awhile... thanks for the inspiration.
The "rules" (I hate calling things rules. They're more like guidelines, anyway. But I love following rules. Weird, I know), copied, pasted, and edited to be relevant from Stephanie's lovely post.
1. blog whatever is authentic. whatever is truly on your mind and in your heart.
2. It can be serious, silly, short, long. NOTE:no one said it has to be serious. But it should be authentic.
3. No judging allowed no snarky comments, no making fun, no passive agressive digs.If you are going to read the blogs linked below, don't be mean. Nothing here is whining, though I can't help it if you perceive it that way. It's me honestly sharing my feelings. if you feel that it's whining, then you don't have to read. :)
4. If you join in, leave a link to your post. I'll stop by and read and comment.
5. If you are reading my blog today or if you read any of the blogs linked, please leave a comment.
1. I am so stinking tired of being sick 50% of my life. I know, I know, I should be a "good Catholic" and "offer it up," but if one more person tells me to to that, I am going to punch them. Or put the eye on them. Seriously. How can a statement meant to be helpful sound so darn condescending? STOP IT. Being sick stinks and I don't want to be told what to do about it. Don't tell me to go see a doctor either. Been there, done that. I'm doctored out. When I'm good and ready, I'll go again to try to find the source of my various ailments for the 7213198642916935th time. Back off.
2. Chauvinists give me anxiety attacks. Also anger problems. I wish I could sincerely, authentically blog my heart about this one, but that wouldn't be prudent. ARGH.
3. I'm super excited about redoing my room. Painting is done, including the ceiling and trim. Curtain rod & curtains are up. My books are stacked up off of the shelves and I'm ready to head to IKEA later today. Me and my snotty, wheezy self. It's gonna be fun. My room will be beeeeautiful. Yellow, white, with grey chevrons. Classy.
4. I'm struggling to find a direction for my life currently. When people ask me what I want to do with myself, all I really want to say is "get married and start a family." But society has made that an uncool thing to say. People think I'm kidding. But really... that's all I want to do. I want to have a husband, a home, and babies. I really, earnestly, authentically believe that's what I'm called to do. I just can't find a man willing to hitch his horses to my wagon and go. (Weird metaphor, sorry. But you get my point.)
5. I despise the stigma surrounding mental illness. Getting personal here, I have PTSD. I do. I have my good days, but I also have my really, really bad days. I have my really horribly bad moments. But when I tell people (aside from my PTSD suffering family members and a handful of very close friends) that I have this problem, they laugh. I wish I were kidding, but I'm not. And here I am, a girl who required years of therapy to get to the point where she could acknowledge that she had a problem that wasn't her fault, but was the fault of the men who cruelly abused her for years, and it that it is a real problem, being laughed at because... I don't even know why they laugh at me. Is it because they don't believe PTSD is a real problem? Or that I don't really have it? Or does mental illness make people so uncomfortable that all they can do is laugh because to actually acknowledge it and connect to the sufferer in a real way is too frightening?
6. I am excited for Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving. I love cooking. I love food. I love our traditional walk to the neighborhood park between dinner and dessert. I need to get my gratitude on, though. Reading back on this post, I really need to get my gratitude on. Time to be thankful for things.
7. I am obsessed with Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Seriously. OBSESSED. I've watched every episode at least twice. Agent Grant Ward? Dreamy. I love his clean-cut, professional attitude, alongside his deep and fierce loyalty to his team. I love his complexity and his drama that is portrayed so well through a lack of drama. I would like to marry him, please&thank you. And those abs? and pecs? and triceps? meeeeelting.
That's all, folks. xoxo
The "rules" (I hate calling things rules. They're more like guidelines, anyway. But I love following rules. Weird, I know), copied, pasted, and edited to be relevant from Stephanie's lovely post.
1. blog whatever is authentic. whatever is truly on your mind and in your heart.
2. It can be serious, silly, short, long. NOTE:no one said it has to be serious. But it should be authentic.
3. No judging allowed no snarky comments, no making fun, no passive agressive digs.If you are going to read the blogs linked below, don't be mean. Nothing here is whining, though I can't help it if you perceive it that way. It's me honestly sharing my feelings. if you feel that it's whining, then you don't have to read. :)
4. If you join in, leave a link to your post. I'll stop by and read and comment.
5. If you are reading my blog today or if you read any of the blogs linked, please leave a comment.
1. I am so stinking tired of being sick 50% of my life. I know, I know, I should be a "good Catholic" and "offer it up," but if one more person tells me to to that, I am going to punch them. Or put the eye on them. Seriously. How can a statement meant to be helpful sound so darn condescending? STOP IT. Being sick stinks and I don't want to be told what to do about it. Don't tell me to go see a doctor either. Been there, done that. I'm doctored out. When I'm good and ready, I'll go again to try to find the source of my various ailments for the 7213198642916935th time. Back off.
2. Chauvinists give me anxiety attacks. Also anger problems. I wish I could sincerely, authentically blog my heart about this one, but that wouldn't be prudent. ARGH.
3. I'm super excited about redoing my room. Painting is done, including the ceiling and trim. Curtain rod & curtains are up. My books are stacked up off of the shelves and I'm ready to head to IKEA later today. Me and my snotty, wheezy self. It's gonna be fun. My room will be beeeeautiful. Yellow, white, with grey chevrons. Classy.
4. I'm struggling to find a direction for my life currently. When people ask me what I want to do with myself, all I really want to say is "get married and start a family." But society has made that an uncool thing to say. People think I'm kidding. But really... that's all I want to do. I want to have a husband, a home, and babies. I really, earnestly, authentically believe that's what I'm called to do. I just can't find a man willing to hitch his horses to my wagon and go. (Weird metaphor, sorry. But you get my point.)
5. I despise the stigma surrounding mental illness. Getting personal here, I have PTSD. I do. I have my good days, but I also have my really, really bad days. I have my really horribly bad moments. But when I tell people (aside from my PTSD suffering family members and a handful of very close friends) that I have this problem, they laugh. I wish I were kidding, but I'm not. And here I am, a girl who required years of therapy to get to the point where she could acknowledge that she had a problem that wasn't her fault, but was the fault of the men who cruelly abused her for years, and it that it is a real problem, being laughed at because... I don't even know why they laugh at me. Is it because they don't believe PTSD is a real problem? Or that I don't really have it? Or does mental illness make people so uncomfortable that all they can do is laugh because to actually acknowledge it and connect to the sufferer in a real way is too frightening?
6. I am excited for Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving. I love cooking. I love food. I love our traditional walk to the neighborhood park between dinner and dessert. I need to get my gratitude on, though. Reading back on this post, I really need to get my gratitude on. Time to be thankful for things.
7. I am obsessed with Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Seriously. OBSESSED. I've watched every episode at least twice. Agent Grant Ward? Dreamy. I love his clean-cut, professional attitude, alongside his deep and fierce loyalty to his team. I love his complexity and his drama that is portrayed so well through a lack of drama. I would like to marry him, please&thank you. And those abs? and pecs? and triceps? meeeeelting.
That's all, folks. xoxo
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