Sunday, August 23, 2009
Kassem's Kabose
I just thought this was an interesting looking picture of my friend Kassem standing behind a giant chain from a caboose that we found out in Mananas. If you want to see the larger version, just click on the picture.
A Paper on Friendship
A friend of mine is attempting to write a paper for his composition class, with the prompt of "Write a scene from your childhood in which you learned something." So I thought I would give the prompt a go. Here it is!
The Perils of Friendship
I’ve always been that kid. The one who, during nap-time, would roll other kids out of their cots in an attempt get them to play with me and the one who, when everyone else was laughing, made a joke about uterine chunks that killed the mood. (I killed the mood so hard it’s second cousin, by marriage, felt a little ill.) Of course I was always well intentioned, I just wanted to be friends, but good lord! I was obnoxious! I had difficulty with the finer points of such complex tasks as sharing, turn taking and listening.
Now, to be clear, this is not leading up to another sob story about how I had no friends and about how all of the other kids were terribly mean. In fact, in elementary school, I had a best friend!
Her name was Laura, she lived down the street from me and her family was Mormon. Her parents would not let her sleep over at my house, I can only assume it was because atheist’s houses had demons hiding in the toilet, ready to eat good Mormon girls, but they were happy enough to take me to Church with them, and I was grateful enough to go.
In fact, Laura was very magnanimous toward me. We spent all of our free time together, except when she had other friends over, and when we played our games together she would kindly tell me that I was best suited to play the villain, and I was pleased to receive the advice. (I’ve always been big on self-improvement.) The Eden of childhood friendship cannot last forever, however, and I was, all too soon, banished from paradise to wander the barren slopes of friendlessness, left a pariah and forced to toil for my social interaction.
Laura had moved away. I was heartbroken. Before she left, though, I made doubly sure she knew what my phone number was, as she did not yet know what her new number was going to be, and I planned on staying best friends forever! This tragedy was not to be goodbye! Oddly enough, her family still hasn’t gotten around to setting up a phone in their new place.
The summer after Laura left my parents decided to send me to a day camp. Perhaps they were trying to assuage and distract me from my pain; perhaps they merely wanted me out of the house for a while. All I know is that the next April I had a brand new little brother. Regardless, I toddled off to camp lonely and ready to find a remedy.
Lo and behold, on the first day, in ceramics class, I met Bob! She was two years older then me and SO COOL. She had blue hair and a boy’s name and she could use the pottery wheel and she was willing to talk to me! I had found her! The fabled new friend! It was thrilling.
Of course I talked to her. That is how friendship is formed. Conversation. I told her all about Laura and my new dog and my older brother, who was awesome but annoying, and my boat and my games and my books and my toys, and I told her all about how everyone at my school was annoying and dumb and how everyone here at camp was awesome and cool. And Bob talked to me. She told me where she and her other friend, Anna, were meeting for lunch.
Ah, those were a wondrous three weeks! Bob, Anna and I would meet in the same place everyday for lunch (I always arrived first!) and the three of us would hang-out. They showed me their Invader Zim comic books and I made them Zucchini bread. They didn’t eat the Zucchini bread, but it’s the thought that counts, right? I even followed them into the bathroom to tell them all about myself. It was glorious. We were friends.
One day, in the last week of camp, I saw Bob in ceramics, as usual. We spoke and were friends. And then, at lunchtime, I showed up at the normal meeting place. I sat down and waited. I was hungry and they were late. I ate my lunch and I waited. And I waited. And my friends never came.
I’ve always been that kid. The one who, during nap-time, would roll other kids out of their cots in an attempt get them to play with me and the one who, when everyone else was laughing, made a joke about uterine chunks that killed the mood. (I killed the mood so hard it’s second cousin, by marriage, felt a little ill.) Of course I was always well intentioned, I just wanted to be friends, but good lord! I was obnoxious! I had difficulty with the finer points of such complex tasks as sharing, turn taking and listening.
Now, to be clear, this is not leading up to another sob story about how I had no friends and about how all of the other kids were terribly mean. In fact, in elementary school, I had a best friend!
Her name was Laura, she lived down the street from me and her family was Mormon. Her parents would not let her sleep over at my house, I can only assume it was because atheist’s houses had demons hiding in the toilet, ready to eat good Mormon girls, but they were happy enough to take me to Church with them, and I was grateful enough to go.
In fact, Laura was very magnanimous toward me. We spent all of our free time together, except when she had other friends over, and when we played our games together she would kindly tell me that I was best suited to play the villain, and I was pleased to receive the advice. (I’ve always been big on self-improvement.) The Eden of childhood friendship cannot last forever, however, and I was, all too soon, banished from paradise to wander the barren slopes of friendlessness, left a pariah and forced to toil for my social interaction.
Laura had moved away. I was heartbroken. Before she left, though, I made doubly sure she knew what my phone number was, as she did not yet know what her new number was going to be, and I planned on staying best friends forever! This tragedy was not to be goodbye! Oddly enough, her family still hasn’t gotten around to setting up a phone in their new place.
The summer after Laura left my parents decided to send me to a day camp. Perhaps they were trying to assuage and distract me from my pain; perhaps they merely wanted me out of the house for a while. All I know is that the next April I had a brand new little brother. Regardless, I toddled off to camp lonely and ready to find a remedy.
Lo and behold, on the first day, in ceramics class, I met Bob! She was two years older then me and SO COOL. She had blue hair and a boy’s name and she could use the pottery wheel and she was willing to talk to me! I had found her! The fabled new friend! It was thrilling.
Of course I talked to her. That is how friendship is formed. Conversation. I told her all about Laura and my new dog and my older brother, who was awesome but annoying, and my boat and my games and my books and my toys, and I told her all about how everyone at my school was annoying and dumb and how everyone here at camp was awesome and cool. And Bob talked to me. She told me where she and her other friend, Anna, were meeting for lunch.
Ah, those were a wondrous three weeks! Bob, Anna and I would meet in the same place everyday for lunch (I always arrived first!) and the three of us would hang-out. They showed me their Invader Zim comic books and I made them Zucchini bread. They didn’t eat the Zucchini bread, but it’s the thought that counts, right? I even followed them into the bathroom to tell them all about myself. It was glorious. We were friends.
One day, in the last week of camp, I saw Bob in ceramics, as usual. We spoke and were friends. And then, at lunchtime, I showed up at the normal meeting place. I sat down and waited. I was hungry and they were late. I ate my lunch and I waited. And I waited. And my friends never came.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
It's a Picture!
Large blocks of text can be boring and hard to look at, so I have decided that I should post some photos that I've taken. And I think I'm going to start including some related picture with my blocks of texts, as well.
This is a picture of Sandy Hook bridge, which crosses the Potomac about a mile downstream from Harper's Ferry. The mountain in the background is called Maryland Heights, and there are old trails worn deep into it's side where soldiers used to drag cannons up it so that they could have the higher ground during the civil war. You can click on it to see a larger picture.
This is a picture of Sandy Hook bridge, which crosses the Potomac about a mile downstream from Harper's Ferry. The mountain in the background is called Maryland Heights, and there are old trails worn deep into it's side where soldiers used to drag cannons up it so that they could have the higher ground during the civil war. You can click on it to see a larger picture.
I'm Obese, and You Can Suck It
I do not believe in this “Obesity Epidemic” that the media has been forcing down our throats, padded by a large helping of shame. I do not believe that the attention that is being paid to it is really about health, I do not believe that as many people are as fat as the media implies, and I do not believe that being fat is as much of a health problem as it is made to be, and I do not believe that being fat is bad, and I am not afraid to proclaim that I am fat! I am obese. I have a BMI (body mass index) of approximately 30, and I am not ashamed.
Of course talking about my BMI is fairly meaningless and misleading, as this slide show helps demonstrate. When someone refers to being obese what generally comes to mind is someone much fatter then me, or anyone else who has a BMI of 30. Your BMI is merely a ratio between your height and weight; it does not take into account things like muscle mass or skeletal size. Weight lifters with very low body fat are often counted as obese. Furthermore the limits for “underweight, “over weight,” and “obese” are hard, giving no lee way for different size of different people. Everyone carries varying amounts of healthy fat on them because, surprisingly enough, people are individuals.
This is aside from the fact that there is no solid evidence that being obese leads to health problems. There are fairly comprehensive studies indicating a correlation between being obese and negative health effects. This is true. But this doesn’t mean that obesity causes the aforementioned negative health effects. As my mantra goes, correlation is not causation! Just as the fact that frogs tend to croak before stores does not mean that frogs croaking will cause it to storm, the fact that obese people tend to be less healthy does mean that the obesity causes the poor health. Obesity COULD be the cause of the ill health, or the ill health could be the cause of the obesity. Or it could be that eating foods with a high calorie content and not exercising tends to cause obesity and poor health. (Which is very different then obesity causing the ill health. One is a concentration on losing weight and one is a concentration on “healthier” exercise and food habits.) Or it could be there is a certain chemical in our water supplies that causes both obesity and ill health. Or they could have nothing to do with one another, and the correlation is just a statistical accident. No one really knows for sure.
But, of course, none of this really matters. The media’s obsession on the “Obesity Epidemic” has nothing to do with health anyway. It is about shaming people, mostly women, into believing that fat is bad. It’s ugly. It’s slobby and unsanitary and lazy and unsexy and unfeminine and ugly, ugly, ugly. If the media really cared about our health it would not be pitching weight loss and waist size at us, it would be pitching improved health and better fitness. We are screamed at to lose weight, not to get healthy, while other habits, that are just as wide spread and has just as strong a correlation to poor health as obesity pass unmentioned.
Smoking comes to mind most readily. Approximately the same number of people smoke as are obese. There is a similar correlation between poor health and smoking as there is between poor health and obesity. And yet no one is whining about the smoking epidemic. True, there are ads telling us not to smoke, but the attention given to it is not near as much, or as shaming, as the attention given to obesity. No one applies the word “epidemic” to smoking, and epidemic is a buzzword with a lot of emotion attached to it. It is designed to cause panic. But smoking is sexy. Which, apparently, means that it’s ok.
I am reclaiming fat. Fat is just a descriptive word. Some people are fat and some people are skinny, and that's ok. And I'm fat.
Of course talking about my BMI is fairly meaningless and misleading, as this slide show helps demonstrate. When someone refers to being obese what generally comes to mind is someone much fatter then me, or anyone else who has a BMI of 30. Your BMI is merely a ratio between your height and weight; it does not take into account things like muscle mass or skeletal size. Weight lifters with very low body fat are often counted as obese. Furthermore the limits for “underweight, “over weight,” and “obese” are hard, giving no lee way for different size of different people. Everyone carries varying amounts of healthy fat on them because, surprisingly enough, people are individuals.
This is aside from the fact that there is no solid evidence that being obese leads to health problems. There are fairly comprehensive studies indicating a correlation between being obese and negative health effects. This is true. But this doesn’t mean that obesity causes the aforementioned negative health effects. As my mantra goes, correlation is not causation! Just as the fact that frogs tend to croak before stores does not mean that frogs croaking will cause it to storm, the fact that obese people tend to be less healthy does mean that the obesity causes the poor health. Obesity COULD be the cause of the ill health, or the ill health could be the cause of the obesity. Or it could be that eating foods with a high calorie content and not exercising tends to cause obesity and poor health. (Which is very different then obesity causing the ill health. One is a concentration on losing weight and one is a concentration on “healthier” exercise and food habits.) Or it could be there is a certain chemical in our water supplies that causes both obesity and ill health. Or they could have nothing to do with one another, and the correlation is just a statistical accident. No one really knows for sure.
But, of course, none of this really matters. The media’s obsession on the “Obesity Epidemic” has nothing to do with health anyway. It is about shaming people, mostly women, into believing that fat is bad. It’s ugly. It’s slobby and unsanitary and lazy and unsexy and unfeminine and ugly, ugly, ugly. If the media really cared about our health it would not be pitching weight loss and waist size at us, it would be pitching improved health and better fitness. We are screamed at to lose weight, not to get healthy, while other habits, that are just as wide spread and has just as strong a correlation to poor health as obesity pass unmentioned.
Smoking comes to mind most readily. Approximately the same number of people smoke as are obese. There is a similar correlation between poor health and smoking as there is between poor health and obesity. And yet no one is whining about the smoking epidemic. True, there are ads telling us not to smoke, but the attention given to it is not near as much, or as shaming, as the attention given to obesity. No one applies the word “epidemic” to smoking, and epidemic is a buzzword with a lot of emotion attached to it. It is designed to cause panic. But smoking is sexy. Which, apparently, means that it’s ok.
I am reclaiming fat. Fat is just a descriptive word. Some people are fat and some people are skinny, and that's ok. And I'm fat.
On the Novelty of Treating People with Respect
Dear Rude People,
Just because you see someone who deviates from the norm, even the gender norm, doesn't mean you have the right to stare. Nor does it mean they have the duty to educate you. There are plenty of resources, if you are interested in gender issues, with which to do your own research. Please do not approach my friend while we are out minding our own business and ask her what gender she is. She has breasts and is wearing woman's clothing. It's not hard to guess, and it's rude to ask. We were not talking to you. We did not make eye contact with you. We do not want to answer your questions.
If someone is obviously trying to look like a woman, and don't quibble over what is obvious, please refer to her as a she. Even if you are sure she is a drag queen. This is only polite.
If you suspect someone is trans please don't ask invasive questions about their genitals. It's rude, and invasive.
Please don't tell me that you don't have a problem with trans people, you just wouldn't date them. I don't care, and I still think you're an ass.
Please remember, trans women are women and trans men are men. They are not shemales, or shehes, or someone pretending just to piss you off, and they are not sick in the head, and they were not necessarily abused as children.
And most importantly of all, trans people are people. People. Treat them as such.
I know gender issues can be strange and difficult to understand for the uninitiated. That doesn't change the fact that all people deserve respect, ok? Thank you.
Not Much Love,
Sarah
Just because you see someone who deviates from the norm, even the gender norm, doesn't mean you have the right to stare. Nor does it mean they have the duty to educate you. There are plenty of resources, if you are interested in gender issues, with which to do your own research. Please do not approach my friend while we are out minding our own business and ask her what gender she is. She has breasts and is wearing woman's clothing. It's not hard to guess, and it's rude to ask. We were not talking to you. We did not make eye contact with you. We do not want to answer your questions.
If someone is obviously trying to look like a woman, and don't quibble over what is obvious, please refer to her as a she. Even if you are sure she is a drag queen. This is only polite.
If you suspect someone is trans please don't ask invasive questions about their genitals. It's rude, and invasive.
Please don't tell me that you don't have a problem with trans people, you just wouldn't date them. I don't care, and I still think you're an ass.
Please remember, trans women are women and trans men are men. They are not shemales, or shehes, or someone pretending just to piss you off, and they are not sick in the head, and they were not necessarily abused as children.
And most importantly of all, trans people are people. People. Treat them as such.
I know gender issues can be strange and difficult to understand for the uninitiated. That doesn't change the fact that all people deserve respect, ok? Thank you.
Not Much Love,
Sarah
The DC Pride Parade
I went to the DC Pride Parade for the first time ever a few days ago. It was quite a lot of fun. Here are a few pictures I took. This is a very picture heavy post!
The dykes on bikes were by far my favorite part of the parade.
Hint: She's not wearing a bikini.
A lovely Queen.
All of the religious organizations that were represented was very heartening!
Roller girls! :D (And the top of Sarah's head, which features prominently in many of my pictures.)
Another heart warming float.
A couple from the crowd, dressed as wonder woman and a girl in a pink tutu, I think.
This ad made me lol.
Gay cowboys! Something interesting that I noticed was that the parade was filled with many more men then women, and that the women who were there tended to have more clothing on. At the time I didn't think too much of it, other then to be somewhat disappointed, but later I realized this was an excellent example of the male gaze at work! Even within my beloved queer community, which tends to be more egalitarian towards gender. I guess we still have a lot of work left to do.
They do. Also, I want that flag.
Oh, shi-! I just noticed that, for some reason, about half of the pictures have been cut off. For most of them it doesn't matter very much, but you can't see the awesome flag that was in this picture! ;_;
The gay marching band!
I have been filled with this overwhelming desire to go see some Opera...
And that desire has only been increasing.
I was fairly shocked when I noticed that this guy was, in fact, rocking out with his cock out. I guess his colorful fans distract the police? (I did blur out the critical bits, don't worry.)
I took a ton of more pictures, but most of them came out pretty blurry. Plus this page is going to be a slow enough loader as is, me thinks.
The dykes on bikes were by far my favorite part of the parade.
Hint: She's not wearing a bikini.
A lovely Queen.
All of the religious organizations that were represented was very heartening!
Roller girls! :D (And the top of Sarah's head, which features prominently in many of my pictures.)
Another heart warming float.
A couple from the crowd, dressed as wonder woman and a girl in a pink tutu, I think.
This ad made me lol.
Gay cowboys! Something interesting that I noticed was that the parade was filled with many more men then women, and that the women who were there tended to have more clothing on. At the time I didn't think too much of it, other then to be somewhat disappointed, but later I realized this was an excellent example of the male gaze at work! Even within my beloved queer community, which tends to be more egalitarian towards gender. I guess we still have a lot of work left to do.
They do. Also, I want that flag.
Oh, shi-! I just noticed that, for some reason, about half of the pictures have been cut off. For most of them it doesn't matter very much, but you can't see the awesome flag that was in this picture! ;_;
The gay marching band!
I have been filled with this overwhelming desire to go see some Opera...
And that desire has only been increasing.
I was fairly shocked when I noticed that this guy was, in fact, rocking out with his cock out. I guess his colorful fans distract the police? (I did blur out the critical bits, don't worry.)
I took a ton of more pictures, but most of them came out pretty blurry. Plus this page is going to be a slow enough loader as is, me thinks.
ZOMG The Poor Rich People!
This article has me foaming. It is all about how people who make $250,000 a year are not actually well off and are actually fearing a tax increase because they are just barely making ends meet AND WHO IS THINKING OF THEM GUIS? WHO IS THINKING OF THE POOR RICH PEOPLE!?!?!?
I will be the first to admit that I know little about making ends meet, as I am just starting to ease my toe into the deep, scary waters of independent living, but I do know enough to know that if you are "barely getting by" at $400,000 a year UR DOIN IT RONG. Really guys. I grew up in an area with very high costs of living. Lots of millionaires and conspicuous consumption. My parents made a joint income of less then half of $250,000. And yet... we lived very comfortably.
How can this be guys!?! Someone who makes a measly 100K a year can afford to save up for college, take the family on yearly vacations AND pay off the mortgage on a house in a reasonable time? NO WAI!!!!! EVIL VOODOO MAGICKS!!!! That man must be a wizard with money! Wait, what? The WOMAN works!?!? The MAN takes care of the children!?! What kind of backwards moon planet are you from!?!
RAAAAAAAAAAAGE!
I will be the first to admit that I know little about making ends meet, as I am just starting to ease my toe into the deep, scary waters of independent living, but I do know enough to know that if you are "barely getting by" at $400,000 a year UR DOIN IT RONG. Really guys. I grew up in an area with very high costs of living. Lots of millionaires and conspicuous consumption. My parents made a joint income of less then half of $250,000. And yet... we lived very comfortably.
How can this be guys!?! Someone who makes a measly 100K a year can afford to save up for college, take the family on yearly vacations AND pay off the mortgage on a house in a reasonable time? NO WAI!!!!! EVIL VOODOO MAGICKS!!!! That man must be a wizard with money! Wait, what? The WOMAN works!?!? The MAN takes care of the children!?! What kind of backwards moon planet are you from!?!
RAAAAAAAAAAAGE!
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