So it’s been radio silence here for the past oh-way-too-long. Sorry ’bout that. I have things to say, but after twitter bombing #Mooreandme and finals, and holidays and a head cold hangover combo that would fell a horse, I’ve been holed up at home with Mr. Lee Hales watching bad TV, eating snacks, and hiding from my numerous obligations.
Paprika remains at large, but should return soon, if all goes as planned and she is able to commandeer a laptop from the wilds of the middle west.
So, 2010. Jezebel bid a not so fond adieu, and I can’t say that I fundamentally disagree with anything on that list. It was a weird year- it was a weird decade. I didn’t get to celebrate New Years in my usual way, which involves getting sozzled and staying up to watch the sun rise, clap twice bow once, make a wish and clap again, before collapsing into bed. I overcooked and overbaked for Xmas and Thanksgiving. I talked to my older brother for five hours on our annual giant catchall conversation of doom, and we both agreed– we don’t know how to do holidays.
Let me explain. My family used to be Jehovah’s Witnesses; now they (for the most part) aren’t. So, I feel like I’m missing something whenever I do holidays, I’m always just out of step. I drink wine to remedy this issue. I’m half amused and half sad to know I’m not the only one of the family who flounders. I had a bizarre youth, but I’m grateful for it, in many ways, because it gave me the ovaries to stand up for my own sense of justice, and go against the grain of the crowd, even if it meant losing friends and making enemies.
But, I like to think that the last decade was my decade for getting over said youth, making peace with the bits of it that hurt, and embracing the parts that made me stronger.
On a side note, you know what I really loathe? People who go all ubermensch and say “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!” No. Actually, sometimes what doesn’t kill you leaves you maimed, or you, know, worse off than before. We don’t live in a goddamned inspirational movie here, people. I also hate beets, but that is a conversation best saved for another time.
So, here we are, and I just feel like shrieking at all of the fucking rape apologists, the evolutionary psychologists who are really just sexist racists douchebags in white lab coats, the street harassers, the homophobes and transhaters, the MRA’s and patriarchal religious asshats, the fat shamers, the rich bastards who think they got where they are fair and square and don’t need to pay it forward, the rapists and abusers, the casual sexists, the pro-lifers with guns and rosaries, the fucking pope (!!), the cynics who choose to look away and just not care, all of it, I just want to shriek.
Still. I also look at all the rock solid feminists and womanists and anti racists and trans and gay and lesbian activists, the mothers rights and workers rights and immigrants rights activists, the liberal progressive dudes who said “no, you know that sounds like rape to me, that isn’t alright with me.” I think of these fucking funny strong amazing people who are educating and learning and willing to correct themselves and embrace change, and I am glad. There is so much to be done. I don’t know where to start, it’s all tied up, and I lament my own lack of courage most of the time, but I hope to find some more spine and do some good with the rest of you.
I’ll keep blogging, I’ll nag Paprika til she caves and posts some more funny shit, it’s what I do. Thank you, for everyone who has been reading, I hope you guys had safe and happy holidays, and I hope you have a fucking great new year, and new decade.