The Oldest is off at camp and the younger two are at summer school for the morning, so I have a few hours to
I still owe you guys a Summer School of Rock post from last week. It's about Johnny Cash and it is going to be awesome. Eventually. At some point. When I get there. Which might not be today. Which probably won't be today. But whatever.
Freckles is here, but she's tremendously self occupying, which is the great thing about us introverts. We really don't need to be amused. She's reading everything she can get her hands on at the moment, absorbing the world like the sponge that she is. Which is fantastic.
Alright, off to the things pissing me off this week. Frankly I haven't even really had that much time to be pissed off, so just work with me here.
Hoaxes, Liars and Fakers
Ah, the internet. The place that has become an ample breeding ground for swindlers and cynics alike. I am always so terribly amused (and troubled) by those who seem to believe everything they read online. I wonder how it is even possible anymore that there are so many people so gullible, especially when you consider how opportunistic the world has become in this internet age.
There are scams everywhere. We all have inboxes programmed with spam detectors and filters. There are phishing attempts all the time. Chances are pretty damn good that you know someone personally who has been the victim of some type of hoax. Or a catfish scheme. Or a wire transfer scam.
Maybe you've even been that victim.
Even still, with this epidemic of thievery, we as a society still seem to want to believe so desperately that people are honest and good. I know that deep down I want to be that person...I wish that I could be. I still am far too often with those I interact with. Until I get burned.
Seriously, don't lie to me. It won't go over well. I have a fairly functional bullshit detector and when someone sneaks in through the cracks, I don't do well with it.
It's not just individuals though, it's everything anymore. I'm sure that by now, most of you have heard that the latest internet viral outrage was a hoax designed to elicit sympathy for a very-truly-injured girl by projecting false blame in the direction of a corporation. The little girl with the dog bite injuries who was supposedly asked to leave KFC because she was scaring customers? Yeah, that didn't happen.
She's hurt, sure as there is a sun in the sky, but she wasn't asked to leave. She was attacked by three dogs at her grandfather's trailer. The family had been complaining on social media about not having enough money to pay the medical bills. The part of the story involving KFC was invented by her grandmother, then shared online in an attempt to generate outrage at the establishment...which it absolutely did. They've raised plenty of money from good hearted people who just wanted to help this actually injured little girl and the monsters who were accused of shunning her.
Except the monsters taking advantage of her injuries weren't in a KFC....they were members of her own family.
The Fashion Police
Another wonderful thing about the internet is that it has become this place for people to drag out their soapboxes and proclaim their views to the world. I can't say that it's always a bad thing, and I wouldn't ever claim that I don't do it myself. These weekly rants are basically my way of venting about the things that irritate me, and to be honest I don't see anything wrong with that. (obviously, or I wouldn't be doing it)
What does bother me is when people use this internet soapbox to project their beliefs onto other people. When they want to tell the world how it should be. When they want to inform the masses about all the things they are doing wrong.
Here's the thing.
It's not about you. It's not about me.
Almost nothing anyone does in this world has anything to do with anyone else, and yet we live in a world where it seems like everyone takes everything personally. Life is much more peaceful once you can accept that the actions and words of other people have nothing to do with you. Honest.
The most recent wave of telling people how to live their lives that has irritated me is coming from the clothing police. The modesty enforcers. The blogs filled with flowery language about preserving our parts for whatever happens behind closed doors, naturally with the husbands we wedded in holy matrimony because that is the only acceptable place for sexuality, right? The horror at seeing these bodies out in public in any way, shape or form. The implication that somehow men are wholly irresponsible for their carnal reactions to seeing the outline of the shape of a woman's body. The idea that attraction to other humans is dirty in the first place. All of it.
I have no qualms at all in the world with people who choose to dress modestly, for whatever reasons they choose to do it. None at all. What isn't okay is for people (almost always women) to believe that it's appropriate for them to tell other women how to dress.
I don't care what your reason is. I don't care what your insecurities are. I don't care why you think other women should be dressed a certain way. I really don't care.
It's not your place to tell them. Period.
What other women wear isn't about you or your husband or your family or your beliefs. If it bothers you, don't look.
p.s. Human beings are sexual. It's part of life. In fact, it's what perpetuates life, that sexual attraction we have for each other...and it's not going away just because you think it should. Promise.
My Very Irritable Uterus
I said a long time ago when I first announced my pregnancy that I would do my best not to complain, and this isn't really a complaint so much as it is just a confrontation of the shitty reality that I dwell in that not everyone understands. And when people don't understand, it makes things worse for me...because stress isn't helping me right now. Not at all.
I have an irritable uterus, which basically means that I have been having contractions for six weeks already. I'm to the point, with this being the third time it has happened, getting worse each time, that I have a pretty good idea of what makes them worse, when I need to worry, when I need to take it easy, when I need to panic.
It gets worse, significantly worse, if I do too much. Or don't drink enough water. Or don't get enough sleep. Or if I get stressed out.
That stress thing...being exacerbated by Little Boy and his blood sugar situation. He's running high still. And creeping upwards. And I worry. I worry even though worry is useless. I worry even though worry won't prevent what might be coming and won't do anything to stop it and won't help if and when it gets here. I worry.
Then my blood sugar spirals out of control. Which makes it harder to sleep. Or rest. Or eat.
Which pisses off my uterus even more.
It's like a swirling vortex of blood sugar triggered contractions.
I'm going to finish this and go do some yoga and try to find a happy place.