Retrospective – 25

Yep, that’s me – calculator in-hand at two.  An omen of nerd-dom that should have been heeded.

Today is my 26th birthday.  At 4.20am (go ahead, make some jokes), February 2, 1984, I poked my lil’ peanut head into the world, stuck my tongue out at my mother, and promptly became a joyous pain in everyone’s ass.  It’s been a good ride so far.

Every birthday I like to take a look at the previous year and see what I’ve done, how far I’ve come.  This is what Year 25 held for me:

  • I married my amazingfantastic husband
  • I moved to Oshawa
  • I held my job for the 6th full, consecutive year
  • I discovered the wonders of the blogsphere
  • I started Jaka’s Tea Party
  • I helped define and found a new social movement
  • I started collaging again
  • I branched out into new media
  • I read 17 books
  • I got my first pap in 3 years
  • I started growing out my hair with its natural colour
  • I began manymanymany new and exciting friendships
  • I supported and loved my family and old friends
  • I fell many steps back on my path to self
  • I felt the absence of spirituality in my life
  • I worried about moneyworklovesexfutureeverything
  • I gave in to crushing panic and euphoric joy
  • I had to decide if I could afford to cure my cat (I did)
  • I maxed out my credit card
  • I stayed home instead of going to the biggest social event on my calendar
  • I attended the last-ever Bad Film Festival at the KCKPL
  • I traveled to Mexico for the first time
  • I went to Disneyworld!

In all, it’s been a fairly quiet year.  We’re so far away from our family and friends out here that not much happens in my life.  Even my introspection has come to a standstill (which bothers me immensely).  A lot of amazing and huge life changes happened last year, for which I am immensely grateful to the universe, yet I look back and feel that I could have done so much better on a personal level.  I could have done better by myself, could have been more in touch with and respectful of myself.

Here’s to Year 26.

Edited: February 2nd, 2010

Best of 2009: Word of the Year

Main Entry: abide
Pronunciation: \ə-ˈbīd\
Function: verb

transitive verb 1 : to wait for : await
2 a : to endure without yielding : withstand b : to bear patiently : tolerate
3 : to accept without objection

intransitive verb 1 : to remain stable or fixed in a state
2 : to continue in a place : sojourn

This year has been a time of change for me.  I moved to a new country, established a home, planned a wedding/got married, cared for a dying car, had a kitty crisis, joined a gym, started a blog, and founded a philosophy.  That adds up to a lot of stress on my part; historically, something I’ve not been very good at handling.

But this year, it’s been different.  I magically found myself able to roll with (most) punches instead of freaking out  (although I did fall into hystronics occasionally).  Wedding details blew up, and I managed to ignore my inner control freak to smooth them over, and I never turned into a Bridezilla (even after people told me I’m totally that kind of person).  I’ve gotten a stronger grip on my irrational jealousy, as well as my desperate need to please other people.  While it’s not all perfectly erased, my tendencies toward despair are melting away.  Maybe it’s maturity, maybe it’s short-term memory loss.  Either way, I’m welcoming the change.

And thus my word of the year is abide.

Not in the I’m-a-doormat kinda way, but in that The-Dude-Abides kinda way.

I’ve learned the art of abiding.

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Edited: December 31st, 2009

The Beauty of “Ugly”

There’s something about those among us who aren’t just not beautiful, not average, not plain or unremarkable.  There’s something about the unattractive, the strange-looking, the homely.  We’re so focused on being “beautiful” and living up to some crazy standard that makes perfectly fine people tell themselves they’re ugly that we’ve forgotten what real (physical) ugly is.

Now, don’t get me wrong here. I’m not slagging on anyone, bearing them any ill-will, or saying that people who fall short of “normal” are somehow less worthy of love or even that they’re not amazing.  But I am saying that they’re ugly.  And there’s nothing wrong with that.

I’d try to redefine the word, make it empowering or spin it so that it sounds enlightening somehow, but I don’t think it’s really necessary.  As progressive as we all are (or try to be), we’ve got to admit that ugly is ugly.  There’s even something magical about the genuinely unattractive.  Something about a wonky eye, an over-filled lip, a unibrow provides a unique service to the public – it reminds us that not everyone is a walking airbrushed magazine cover.

Simon Doonan illustrates it perfectly, talking about Marty Feldman (pictured above): By owning his unattractiveness, he generously allowed the rest of us to feel less ugly. We need a Marty to come and challenge our Ryan Seacrest-ian obsession with bland physical perfection. Bring back the jowls and warts and general hideousness! Bring back Rumplestiltskin. Let’s start lowering the bar on physical perfection instead of continually raising it. Let’s return to a world where we can turn on the telly and, instead of feeling grody and sub-Angelina, we can declare, “I may be a bit naff-looking but at least I don’t look like THAT!”

Top to bottom: Susan Boyle, Steve Buscemi, Donatella Versace, Flava Flav, Sandra Berhard

Every single one of these people are ugly.  But in some strange went-so-far-to-one-side-you-came-out-the-other way, they’re beautiful, too.  They remind us that there’s a true spectrum of people out there, not just plasticky models held up on some kind of unreachable pedestal.  Is it a little unprogressive to think, “well, at least I’m not Courtney Love”?  Sure, but don’t tell me you don’t do it.  And as long as you’re not persecuting the uglies in the world, not denying them anything or withholding love, then there’s no harm.

And, as a poignant afterthought about inner and outer beauty, the words of Sir Frances Bacon:

Virtue is like a rich stone, best plain set; and surely virtue is best, in a body that is comely, though not of delicate features; and that hath rather dignity of presence, than beauty of aspect. Neither is it almost seen, that very beautiful persons are otherwise of great virtue; as if nature were rather busy, not to err, than in labor to produce excellency. And therefore they prove accomplished, but not of great spirit; and study rather behavior, than virtue. [...] That is the best part of beauty, which a picture cannot express; no, nor the first sight of the life. There is no excellent beauty, that hath not some strangeness in the proportion. [...] one, would make a personage by geometrical proportions; the other, by taking the best parts out of diverse faces, to make one excellent. Such personages, I think, would please nobody, but the painter that made them. Not but I think a painter may make a better face than ever was; but he must do it by a kind of felicity (as a musician that maketh an excellent air in music), and not by rule. A man shall see faces, that if you examine them part by part, you shall find never a good; and yet altogether do well. If it be true that the principal part of beauty is in decent motion, certainly it is no marvel, though persons in years seem many times more amiable; pulchrorum autumnus pulcher; for no youth can be comely but by pardon, and considering the youth, as to make up the comeliness. Beauty is as summer fruits, which are easy to corrupt, and cannot last; and for the most part it makes a dissolute youth, and an age a little out of countenance; but yet certainly again, if it light well, it maketh virtue shine, and vices blush.

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Edited: November 18th, 2009

Remember, Remember

VForVendetta

November 5, 2009 marks the 404th anniversary of the Gunpowder Treason, in which 13 men attempted to bring an end to the tyranny of King James by leveling Parliament, killing the king and his many supporters. The now-infamous Guy Fawkes was captured, tortured and put to death for his involvement, yet his legacy lives on in the annual marking of Guy Fawkes Night – a celebration dedicated to rejoicing in the failure of the conspiracy to bring down what many at the time perceived to be the villany of the ruling body.  The holiday, and its many poems and songs, glorifies the triumph of government and order over radical idealists who strike out in desperate and revolutionary ways.

This is not why I remember the fifth of November.

I believe in the interpretation of this rhyme popularized by Alan Moore in V for Vendetta.  Even one man, standing against tyranny and charged with the power of his right convictions, can change the world.  The bleak, Orwellian future that Moore imagines will come trembles in fear and its confidence is destroyed by a single person brave enough to say “no”.

From the film version of V for Vendetta:

“I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of every day routine- the security of the familiar, the tranquility of repetition. I enjoy them as much as any bloke. But in the spirit of commemoration, thereby those important events of the past usually associated with someone’s death or the end of some awful bloody struggle, a celebration of a nice holiday, I thought we could mark this November the 5th, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat. There are of course those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn’t there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who’s to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you’re looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn’t be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you, and in your panic you turned to the now high chancellor, Adam Sutler. He promised you order, he promised you peace, and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent. Last night I sought to end that silence. Last night I destroyed the Old Bailey, to remind this country of what it has forgotten. More than four hundred years ago a great citizen wished to embed the fifth of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words, they are perspectives. So if you’ve seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you then I would suggest you allow the fifth of November to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek, then I ask you to stand beside me one year from tonight, outside the gates of Parliament, and together we shall give them a fifth of November that shall never, ever be forgot.”

Do I advocate terrorism on behalf of a disgruntled populace who feels their largest complaint is that they have no health insurance?  No.  Do I encourage violence as a means to an end?  No.  Do I believe in bringing down fascist systems intended to crush our rights, spirits, our intellect?  You bet.  As our general population grows more and more complacent in their day-to-day doldrums, the number of revolutionaries shrinks and intensifies.  Those who see the flaws in the machine as more than just casual irritations grow restless.  Those who understand what we are sacrificing to maintain our lifestyles and our ignorance. And on this day, they’re reminded of the power one man can have.  If only all men, all women, all people who are angry at a social structure that silences us at the same time it encourages us to vomit our most inane thoughts would stand up and say “no” together, the world would be a much different place.

People should not be afraid of their governments. Governments should be afraid of their people.

Vi Veri Veniversum Vivus Vici -By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the universe.

Edited: November 5th, 2009

She’s Got the Look

Sorry there’s no pretty pictures in this article, dear readers; it’s not that kind of post. But I hope you’ll read on anyway, I desperately want to hear what folks think about this sensitive and outrageous topic.

Today in the UK, Riam Dean won her case against Abercrombie and Fitch in a lawsuit accusing the hugely popular clothing brand of “disability discrimination” for an incident that landed the former employee in the stockroom, made her question her self-worth, and ultimately led to her grudging resignation after only five shifts. Dean is missing part of her left arm (to the elbow) and was informed by a manager that she was in violation of the company’s “look policy”, as outlined in the employee handbook, when she wore a sweater to cover the join of elbow and prosthesis, and was no longer allowed to work the sales floor. A tribunal awarded Dean ₤9000 for pain and suffering, as well as for lost wages, but not for actual “disability discrimination”. (“Disabled Student Wins Employment”)

So, two things:
1. The tribunal’s ruling
2. The look policy itself

Dean didn’t get the justice she originally sued for. She just got money. And while cash is great, it’s not the blow for that should have been struck in this case. We’re a highly litigious society anyway, but this should have been a clear-cut case of discrimination (particularly in light of at least a dozen other cases of A&F being sued by employees for prejudice of various sorts) that was resolved under the guise of fairness.

In the United States, it is illegal to refuse someone a job on the basis of their race, gender, weight, sexuality, disability, or religion. I’m not sure about the UK’s actual laws, but I cannot imagine that they legally allow active discrimination either [[I found this, if it applies.]]. So, when Dean applied for the job and met all other qualifications, she got the position. But once inside the doors, employers can and do exercise all kinds of methods to hide the “undesirables” they’ve been required to hire.

What the fuck kind of shit is that?

And that brings me to the second point: the look policy itself. Manymanymany companies, particularly retail fashion companies, have codes of both conduct and dress, so there’s nothing surprising in that that have a policy. It’s what the policy itself states, as reported at Telegraph:

Abercrombie & Fitch’s ‘look’ rules detailed:

  • Staff must “look great” while still exhibiting “individuality”.
  • Women’s fingernails must be no more than a quarter of an inch beyond the tip of the finger.
  • Beards, moustaches or other facial hair are banned except for religious reasons.
  • Clothing should always be “classic American style” while only “clean, natural” hairstyles are acceptable.
  • Women should only wear foundation, base or blush if it “matches” their natural skin tone.
  • Eyebrow pencil, eye liner, lipstick and eye shadow are also only allowed in “natural” shades.
  • Store managers will define “appropriate” colours for toenail polish.
  • Women’s earrings “should not be longer than a dime and should not dangle”.
  • Other piercings are forbidden and men must never wear earrings.
  • Although the store sells caps they are “too informal for the image we project” for staff. (“Abercrombie and Fitch “Look Policy”)

That’s only part of it. Click the tag at the end of the list for other items in the policy.

Some of these points are understandable and carried out in other chains across the globe; others make you go “what?” and make weird faces in confusion. While having a dress code is a fabulous idea for most clothing and beauty retailers, the extent of A&F’s is dangerously close to crossing the boundary between sanity and insanity helpful and harmful.

Dean’s case should have cracked this shit wide open. As it stands, she’s a little richer, A&F are getting some bad press, and things are just going to go right back to normal. But maybe not. Maybe there’s something good that can come from this. As Mark Borkowski put it, “When people are confronted daily with pictures of heroic soldiers returning from Afghanistan with missing limbs, people will look at this case and think that Abercrombie & Fitch is incredibly shallow” (qtd in “Disabled Student Wins Employment”). With any luck, this could be the case that pushes the right buttons to get this company to loosen its grip.

Until this shit stops, don’t shop with them. They’ve got shitty business practices and shittier personal codes. Don’t even buy it at the thrift store. Even if they’re not getting money from that sale, you still know what they do and your karma pays that toll for you automatically. Don’t support people who think that anyone who doesn’t (even loosely) embody the physical Aryan ideal will hurt their sales (and challenge their own worth).

Edited: August 14th, 2009

The Greatest Generation

GreatestGenerationStrip

A friend told me that one of the last WWI survivors passed away recently. At first, I was rather indifferent. But as we talked, I could feel the stirring of anger in my belly. Not at the death itself (the man was over 100 years old and it’s a natural process), but at myself for being indifferent at all. I thought, “Wait. This really is the death of a generation; the generation that paved the way for everything we now hold dear as Americans, as the West. What the fuck is wrong with me?” I was struck by my innate reaction to what amounts to the passing away of a way of life.

CUT: [[I wrote a huge, long, involved post about this, but it started turning into more of a rant on a book scale than something for casual public consumption. As such, I took the emotions and ideas I was trying to convey and converted it into something more raw and yet more polished, more nonsensical yet more clear, more abstract yet more direct. Enjoy.]]

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Take responsibility
Be proud of your homeland
Work hard
Live simply
Love loyally
Sacrifice

The lessons of our grandparents and great-grandparents
Faint whispers in our bloodstream
The foundation of our proud cultures
Gauzy old pictures tossed aside
The Greatest Generation silently slips away
All they’ve taught us lost to history books

Think outside the box
Fluid interconnections
Question authority
Live for you
Attainment

The lessons of my generation, your generation
Flooding our screens in pixelwaves
The future of the West, key to its survival
Teeming with more ideas than we can stand
Generation Y bursts the edges of the canvas
And forges into shining tomorrow

We forget.
We revise.
We invent.
We dismiss.

We’re wrong.

We’re overlooking values that our greats and grands stood for
What made us all great and grand
Their circumstances were not unique; we’re fighting a war today
What made them special was their stance
The ethics of a strong man, strong woman, strong nation
Don’t try to change the winds of change
It’s asking for windburn in uncomfortable places
But what if maybe, just maybe
The ideals of the past and ideals of the present
Could hybrid and form the ideals of the future

Work hard at coming up with enterprising soutions
Be a knowledgeable and active patriot
Make tons of friends but love the one you’re with
Humbly accept praise but don’t demand it
Love your life and the lives of others

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As I sit here writing, I’m having trouble choking down what’s welling up just thinking about how disconnected we are from what most people would agree are infallible pillars of the American ideal. There’s a solider sitting across from me, on his way home from The Sandbox, smiling and talking to a stranger, and I can’t help but wonder what his grandchildren will think of his generation, of my generation. What mark will we leave on the world? Will we be great, or, like the men and women of the World Wars, will we, and our contributions to the world culture, be forgotten?

Suggested Reading
7 Lessons in Manliness From the Greatest Generation
Instilling the Values of America’s Greatest Generation in the Youth of Today
What Generation Y Really Wants
Generation Y: They’ve Arrived at Work with a New Attitude

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Edited: August 7th, 2009

Wait, What?

Images courtesy of PaperMode

Shoes? Yes, please. Also that dress. And that apple. In fact, I’ll take the whole thing to go. Wrap it up.

While perusing the weekly download of links from Ms. Nubby, I wandered over to a post at Paper Mode, a fashion editorialist blog.  Here is the blurb about the beautiful spread that follows, as written on their site:

Amazing 64-page editorial in the August issue of Vogue Paris shot by Inez & Vinoodh and curated by the magazine’s editor-in-chief Carine Roitfeld, Emmanuelle Alt and Joe McKenna. 64 looks, 64 brands, from Calvin Klein to Yohji Yamamoto to YSL to Balmain, each look creates an iconic image that embodies each brand, definitely a who’s who guide in the industry and if that weren’t enough it features some of the greatest faces around, including favorites like Raquel Zimmermann, Isabeli Fontana, Natasha Poly, Anja Rubik, Sessilee Lopez, Lily Donaldson, Lara Stone and Daria Werbowy, who’s also on the cover.

I won’t repost the entire thing here, primarily because that’s not my intention in writing today.  I’d just like to focus on some of the highlights of the spread.  First, the awesome:

Lovelovelove all four of these shots.  Each one has a classic style and perfectly sums up the brand (yes, Vivienne and Karl are brands, too).  The CK ad, in particular evokes weird teeny-bopper feelings for me.  Must be all those illicit Cosmos I read when I was still 16.  And man, that Karl Lagerfield shot!  Sexy sexiness.

But then, there’s this:

What.  The.  Fuck.

BlackfaceBlackface?!

That last time I checked, it was 2009, a year far out of the racist grasp of the vaudevillian era when it was common practice to do such things for entertainment.  I’m not a prude or PC-advocate by any stretch of the imagination, but THIS?!  Who thought this was okay?  What out-of-touch suburbanite sat down at the sketch pad one day and said, “You know, I think I’ll take a white girl, dress her up in western-style clothing, giver her a beehive-afro, and paint her face black.”

(deep breath) Okay.  Whew.  Honestly, though.  Really?  The entire rest of the spread was just amazing – tasteful, stylish, beautiful.  Then there’s that one.  Does anyone else have a problem with this?  Or is it just me?  Granted I don’t know anything about this particular brand/stylist but…come on.   Okay, time to sign off before I explode.  I’d love to hear your feedback about this, if you feel like sharing.  Conversational shit, people!

xxxooo,

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Disclaimer! I am not, nor have I ever been, a fashion critic.  I’m largely unfamiliar with the “styles” of many of the biggest labels.  The ones I do know are those that permeated my existance before I ever gave a rat’s ass about what I wore.  So please, bear with me.  Comments are appreciated, flaming is not.

Edited: July 24th, 2009