Monday, 26 November 2012

Check Your Facts, Soap-Box Susie

http://www.foxnews.com/opinion/2012/11/24/war-on-men/#ixzz2DMOSRjN3


Suzanne Venker……..a woman.  Noted in the article “feminism kicked women off the pedestal they already had”.  Had feminism not done so, Suzanne Venker would have no pedestal from which to speak publicly.  She’d still be tapping her husband on his back so that he could speak on her behalf in church!  Let’s remember that had first wave feminism not done its duty, women still would not have the right to vote. 
I would argue that today’s men are fortunate in having equal, intelligent, educated partners that are true partners in every sense of the word (rather than the little “mrs” who defers to her much smarter husband in all important matters, except perhaps what to have for dinner).  In writing books at all this woman has contradicted her own point and made thorough use of a platform established by feminism.

Opinions such as hers are a huge proponent to the concept that woman are ESSENTIALLY unequal, when in reality it's a commonly held belief among academics that gender, along with race, are mainly social constructs.  Again, if social constructs didn't change, no one would have published this woman's beliefs.  Let's also remember that in pitching a return to femininity she's nullifying centuries of advocacy and dedication not only of women, but men as well.  

Two thirds of University students are women in 2012.  At Laurier Brantford, there are 7 females to every one male on campus.  If women want to marry as bad as Venker seems to believe they do, and men only want women deeply in touch with their femininity, why don't they do something really crazy and enroll in University?  I know, I know, you don't believe men can still get in since women are snatching up all the opportunities, but they can, and I guarantee at least one in seven women likes to wear skirts.  On top of the skirt thing, from what I've seen, most women in Universities have no problem with the bearing children thing either... 

Women have continued to evolve to meet the changes in our society – now mainly for a two parent working income.  Women have adapted into a world ready to accommodate their change.  At least Ms. Venker is right in one point – men have not changed.  Men have not adapted.  The men to which she refers would prefer that we go back about 50 years.  Not likely to happen.  Perhaps the solution is not that Ms. Venker replaces her bonnet and gets off her soapbox – perhaps the solution is that men should also adapt and catch up themselves.

Let's consider what our world would look like if social construction did not change.  The black professor at the front of my class would not be allowed off his field, never mind anywhere close to a University.  Chinese immigrants would be required to pay what would now amount to hundreds of thousands of dollars to enter Canada.  Native Americans would be systematically assimilated.  We would live in a monarchy.  Someday, when our great great grand children stand up against the central inequalities of their generation, they'll look back in comparison at the archaic gender constructions such as the above with relief and thanksgiving for the opposing view.




Sunday, 16 September 2012

Fragility.

Serious blog time...

There's this Ingrid Michaelson song called Breakable. 

"We are so fragile, and our cracking bones make noise.  We are just breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys"

How often we forget about that.  I know I do. 

Ever met those obnoxious folk who believe with every fibre of their being that the entire globe hangs on every gold plated word that leaves their lips?  Who hasn't.  They're the worst, and we all remember them, because they suck so much.  Then, of course, you jump that massive edifice to the opposite end of the spectrum, where we have the ones that honestly believe they could run themselves off the road and no one would care.  Sad, yes, but also a very important part of my point.

Sometimes we forget to be aware of ourselves.  And without self awareness, how could we possibly be aware of those around us?  I'm currently reading "The Book of Tea" by Okakura Kakuzo, which I'm fully aware is a very strange choice for pleasure reading.  Kakuzo writes "Those who cannot feel the littleness of great things in themselves are apt to overlook the greatness of little things in others".  There's no question about why the second aforementioned party is so obnoxious; it's a simple issue of self esteem.  They have none.  They failed to recognize their own greatness, and in the process have isolated everyone else in their lives, as well as the greatness those people have to offer.  Chances are good that their isolated depression has broken many hearts along it's path.  Probably, this lack of self recognition is responsible for a variety of missed oppertunity, lost loves, and missed potentially incredible friendships.  By being unaware of their own greatness, our Silent Depression friend has probably snuffed a great deal of greatness in others.

While we hate to admit it, that little flame of greatness flickers in each of us.  We like to believe we can fade into the background, but the fact of the matter is that we can't.  We're connected.

Why do bank robbers wear masks?  To remain anonymous, clearly.  I'm sorry to burst humanity's bubble here, but none of us are anonymous.  We have friends, families, classes, coworkers, neighbours, grocery store cashiers, and cars beside us on the freeway.  We are far from anonymous, and far from invisible.  We stumble through life like bulls in a China Shop, refusing to admit that we matter, and believing we can do whatever we want, because no one cares about us anyway.  I'll say it once, and I'll say it with everything I have in me. 

You're decisions affect everyone.  Everyone.

Everyone gets lonely sometimes and looks to that one friend who always seems to be up for a little shameless flirting to put you back on your game, but when do we think about the emotions of that poor girl you flirt with?  We seem to believe that our words don't matter and that she wouldn't care, but she probably does. 

We think we're one of millions, of the thousand people I interact with on a daily basis, one won't make a difference.

Sorry to break it to you, but Ingrid's right, we're just fragile, breakable children, and it's time we stop walking around with hammers.

Maddi.

Wednesday, 11 January 2012

Stop With The Cats. You Make My Respect For You Commit Suicide.

Before I begin, I feel it necessary to say. Right this second, it 11:20. I WILL be finished this blog by midnight. Let nothing stand in my way!

What is wrong with my generation? We live in a society that takes both comfort and fascination from the ironic; the dilapidated, the counter productive, the bluntly honest, the utilitarian. My philosophy teacher pointed out to me today that art, architecture, fashion, music even, no longer has any use for the frivolous. It's all about utility and necessity, and - honestly - basics. The one remaining notion of non necessity in our culture is humor; the one thing that never goes out of style or out of practice - it gets old, but there's always new humor to replace the tattered remains of overused phrases and overtold jokes. Now for the stuff you're not going to like.

JUST BECAUSE WE HAVE THE INTERNET NOW DOES NOT MEAN IT MUST CONSUME OUR HUMOR.

Did you catch that? No? ... Here it comes again.

THERE ARE THINGS IN LIFE THAT ARE FUNNIER THAN LOL CATS. LIKE BROWN TOAST. LIKE SAFETY PINS. AND PEPTIC ULSERS.

Did you catch it that time? Good.

I'm not a cat person to begin with; I like the occasional cat that won't try to rip the heck our of my hands or claw my eyes out... Or slit my jugular. Which means that for their entirety of my life, I've taken a liking to maybe 3 cats. Maybe. Every other cat on the planet has my full permission to never again make contact with me. In fact, I encourage it. Lolcats has taken me from a state of indifference towards tthe general cat population to a state of hysterical rage. Instead of making a small effort to avoid cats, I now make a significant effort to ensure that I not only avoid the cat the first time around, but to never actually make contact with the cat again. They were never funny, they are not funny now, and no matter what the cat seems to be telepathically saying to you in grammar that would make Mark Twaine himself roll over in his grave, they will never be funny. Every time you post a Lolcat to your facebook, a couple of the respect points I've been storing up for you take the plunge, stare longingly at that happy dagger, and end it all. You make my respect for you commit suicide.

Okay, I'm done beating up on internet humor now. This is just a little addendum to tonight's (this morning... It's 12:02. I didn't make it.) blog, but it must be said.

THE MOST POSSIBLE SEXUAL REFERENCES DOES NOT A FUNNY JOKE MAKE.

Just because you've managed to shout out to every reproductive organ on God's green earth does not make you funny. It makes you unintelligent, because you can't come up with anything funnier than sex. You're in fifth grade. Congratulations. I truly wish you the best of luck in all your endeavors, and don't forget to dress nice for Grade 8 graduation.

As in all my brutally harsh blogs, I have a few nice things to say. That is, if you've made it this far without becoming incredibly offended and flipping the tabs back to Lolcats. The things I find both funny and tasteful are, honestly, few and far between. As a woman, I will admit that I find most woman jokes incredibly funny, and not the least bit offensive, because I also get a good kick out of feminism. Offended yet? I hope not. I do have a few guilty pleasures when it comes to humor, the biggest of which are the jokes that the five year old in the grocery store line would tell you.


What do you call a line of rabbits walking backward?

A receding hare line.


What did the ocean say to the other ocean?

Nothing, they just waved.
(Alternate answer (thank you Reg!): sea you later!)

I know it's silly, and it may make me five years old, but when the witty words emerge from the mouth of a five year old girl in the mall, there is absolutely nothing funnier. Don't lie to me, you know it's the truth. Anything in that tiny baby voice is absolutely hillarious.

Okay, I've reached the end of this thought, and the end of my night. It is now 12:15, and I'm only 15 minutes past my goal. If you did read this blog and were incredibly offended by
a) my firm and unchanging malicious attitude towards cats,
b) my firm and unchanging malicious attitude towards Lolcats,
c) my firm and unchanging malicious attitude towards dirty jokes and those who tell them (and those who laugh, you're just encouraging it), or
d) my firm and unchanging appreciation for a good woman joke,
I would say I'm sorry, but I really am not, and I don't want to lie to you. I wasn't that mean, I do hope you'll get over it, and please still be friends with me. If you cared enough to read my blog, I care enough to fake an apology in person the next time I see you. Thank you for reading, at any rate.

It's 12:22...

Blessings,
Maddi.