Category Archives: Randomitis

talking behind backs

so on one of my other blogs that should probably just be declared dead (it was sewing related; I doubt I’m going to resurrect it anytime soon), I recently was asked to moderate a comment. It was some feminist telling me off for not knowing my history and how it was “patriarchal values” which put women in “purely ornamental” roles, and how when women sought power they were “mocked for their impractical dress (which men put them in)” and if “couturiers (and men) had their way, we’d still be trussed up in corsets and not working.”

I guess if I had more energy, I would attempt to go gracefully respond to her comment, on that blog, and in context. But I don’t have that much energy or time, to give her a proper response (truly a much longer blog post than I’m willing to write right now). So here’s what I did instead:

I laughed and laughed.

And laughed.

Ooooo my goodness.

You can re-tell history however you want, and argue it till you’re blue in the face, especially when there are no longer any eye witnesses. . .but here’s one thing I bet pretty solidly one: Basic human nature has not changed. Not from the beginning of time until present time.

You can argue politics, you can argue movements, you can argue whatever you want that makes you out to be the hero and everyone else the bad guy–after all, from the beginning of time, the winners write the histories. Why change that grand tradition now? You can argue exceptions, and you can argue extremes, and you can cloud the issues.

Here are some things that I think I see throughout all of history, unchanged by any of the above:

(a) Women want to feel pretty, much the way men want to feel strong. You can argue–some would. You can quibble over words. I would still bet you a serious chunk of change that the average full-blown feminist still spends more time on her appearance than any average male. We enjoy being ornamental. Oops.

(b) Yeppers, often times Men want power over Women. Odds that Man’s first thought for binding women is CLOTHES?! Extremely minimal. Too many other more direct routes for warfare than saying “here, honey, wear this and sit down and look pretty.” Clothes may sometimes be a symptom, but are rarely the main front. They are signs of other, deeper things, but not the cause of other, deeper things.

(c) Expensive clothes, as those made by couturiers? Not the kind of things guys want to spend money on. They spend money on clothes for women because women want it and pine after it. Not because (on average) they want to spend lots of money on CLOTHES. Having a real hard time with this whole “men made us do it” argument. How about now? NOW who’s forcing you to wear shoes with 4 inch spikes that cause serious and permanent bodily damage? “Oh, oh, male oppression! He’s making me go shoe-shopping!!” Really? REALLY? Don’t pass the buck. You wore the clothes because you wanted to. Back then? They did, too. Personal responsibility, folks. Personal responsibility.

(d) patriarchal values rarely have anything against women working. Patriarchal values want women working. Just maybe not on the things you think they should be working on. Patriarchal values do laugh at women in fancy clothes while they say they are just as tough and strong and brutal as men. Honey, if you don’t mind getting dirty, why are you wearing clean clothes? Don’t pretend to be something you aren’t.

(e) Corsets have bad rap. Same with shoes—if you don’t wear them too tight, they don’t cause damage. In fact, there’s pretty good evidence that abandoning support from the south side north has lead to considerable shoulder, neck and upper back strain, and that we’d all be happier wearing corsets. Properly laced.

(g) Fashion is always a joke, no matter the time, culture or political atmosphere. Those who have nothing better to do than worry about how people should dress are just not really either connected to the real world or representative of the whole–just of the elite who don’t have anything better to worry about than their status and mirror-glass reflection. Fashion is about Making Statements and everyone knows, Statements are Cool. Popular fashion works off of that principle in the same way as High Fashion. It’s a corollary to Jackson Pollack’s art. It doesn’t matter if it looks good, just if it’s cool. Fashion is always a sell-out to common sense. Don’t pretend otherwise.

The poor lady who was “horrified by my proclamations about feminism” would not be comforted by this post. . . humanity is often a horrifying thing. And what binds us is rarely so much the bonds which someone mindfully attempts to place upon us, but rather the bonds which we place upon ourselves. Like fashion, which has no excuse–never has, and never will.

(any views of feminism not withstanding)


(but not really)

(why are so many feminists so dang bitter and angry all the time? Is a cheerful feminist an oxymoron?)

beaten around the bush


I got out of the car

was wrapped in a jump rope

and dragged into the darkness

I was

dragged around the table

many times

as fast as possible

I don’t know why

but it made other people happy

I was picked

up and dropped

once or twice

the strangest thing


none of it was strange

This and that

It’s the weekend. Let’s do nothing.

This is the sort of thing that you didn’t think happened any more. I wanted to find out how much she charged for her pies, but it didn’t say. How come no one ‘cept in this sort of area understands the concept of grape pies?

I want. (Not in particular; I just like them in general.)

Looks like more fun than a square box to me.

What does it mean?

Last night I dreamed. . .

There was a single mom and her (tween) daughter, facing ruins. They had both become seriously addicted to large amounts of expensive, coffee-house coffee. Like most addictions, this had left them in both financial and health ruins. Unable to quit cold turkey (but in dire money straights and seriously warned by the doctor of their health problems), they were resorting to making large amounts of their own fancy coffee drinks. The daughter threw a bit of a mopey fit because it “wasn’t the same,” but she wasn’t so much referring to the coffee as the experience of the fancy coffee places. Somehow, coffee at home seemed so demeaning and empty compared to that experience.

Then I woke up.

Der. . .what?

Matters of Great Importance

1. tub of sour cream + garlic + lemon juice + fresh dill leaf + salt + pepper + cayenne = very good on vegetables and crackers, especially wheat thins or equivalent.

2. The simplest solution is probably the truest. When it looks like a brother is holding something in his mouth, he probably is. Why pretend when you can do the real thing.

3. Question: why would 4 of your brothers decide to cram cherries in their mouths right before going blueberry picking, just so that as soon as you got there they could all crowd around you and offer you their shiny, spitty cherries? The mind boggles.

4. Have you have heard of flash mobbing?

5. Re-fashioning objects is intriguing. We shall see how it turns out.

6. Sometimes you just have to do it anyway, even though you know you can’t do it well.

7. It doesn’t do you any good to know that attitude is 78% of the issue if you don’t know how to change your attitude.

8. It sounds like late summer, like its-almost-going-to-frost late. Don’t ask me why it sounds late, it just does. Maybe it’s the bugs. Maybe it’s the way the sound travels through the air.

9. Keys for new cars are expensive

10. God works in mysterious ways. Sometimes it makes my head hurt trying to comprehend it. But sometimes I think that maybe I should never stop trying to do so anyway.

well said

‘what you think is the point is is not the point at all but only the beginning of the sharpness.’

–Flann O’Brien, a la Policeman MacCruiskeen

I have blisters on my feets

This is apparently what happens when you walk on asphalt for about two miles or so.

No, my car did not break down; my car is still at the dealer’s.

See, I was driving over to a friends house, and thinking what a gorgeous evening it was and how I’d been stuck inside all day, sitting. So when I got there, I suggested we take a walk–never mind that I was wearing flip-flops and a long skirt.

So we started walking, and my flip-flops were killing me. They were making the front of my legs cramp up something terrible already, and we’d hardly went 100 feet.

So I took off my flip-flops and went barefoot.

It was much more comfortable.

Until I got blisters.

(But if you do ever get blisters on your feet, you can cover them with athletic tape, available nearly anywhere, and then your feet don’t hurt so much and you can still walk around in your bare feets.)

Ow. No wonder it hurts

[Editor’s note: okay, so yeah, even I find it kinda disturbing to see a picture of someone’s insides any time I happen to go to my site. I still have the picture if someone wants to see it, but really? Once is enough.]

That whole big red follicle thing-y ruptures out of an ovary wall once a month. No wonder it’s so dang uncomfortable. Everybody seems to act like it’s such a microscopic-type process, but it’s more like having a parasite burst through an organ. (After it releases its egg, the follicle goes back inside the ovary. Really truly. It goes back inside, turns itself into a ‘corpus luteum’ [lit. body yellow], and secretes estrogen & progesterone like crazy until it finally gives up and dies.)

Yes, we covered this in bio this morning. It was very educating.

What constitutes being yelled at?

Several times now I’ve done a double take when some student recounts being “yelled at” by a teacher. . .only to realize that for them, “being yelled at” is “being reprimanded in a disapproving tone of voice”. I guess it’s because teachers aren’t expected to be disapproving, so any for of disapprovement is magnified. I would count it as merely a colloquial figure of speech, but apparently myself and another student got yelled at last yesterday afternoon, and I didn’t know it on account of I didn’t feel yelled at. (Our bio teacher was reminding us we couldn’t be at the same question display [we have to identify different things on plastic models of organs]. I took it as nothing more than a cautionary reminder, and didn’t think much of it. After I finished the test he apologized to me and said he wasn’t trying to insinuate I was cheating. I didn’t realize at the time how much more strongly the other student had taken it.)

In other entirely random and tired thoughts, this morning I thought that it would be cool if God taught school. Which, okay, maybe that’s a no-duh, but when you are sitting there in class trying to connect the dots between physics, biology and PT, you find yourself wishing that it was all just one class taught by someone who knew everything. Then you realize that (a) no one in their right mind is going to get a degree in both physics AND biology AND physical therapy and (b) there is only one who knows everything. But since God does NOT make rules about no cell phones or texting in class and no horsing around, we generally spend a lot of time ignoring Him and not learning. Bummer.

A more sobering piece of randomitis is this. Ethics committees can talk themselves into windblown circles all they want; in the real world, it often feels that there are NO right answers, not even if the answers are sanctioned by ethic committees.

Post title are difficult to come up with when you’re only chit-chatting.

I just finished working for, like, 9 1/2 hours, and I’m tired. Actually, I may be tired because for some reason I woke up at twenty till five AM, and couldn’t fall back to sleep, which is just plain mean.

I made about a bizillion (ok, about a gross, e.g. apox. a dozen dozen’s) of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies yesterday. We ate at least 9 each; then I took 3 dozen in to work today, and they were pretty much gone by noon. They went over well with all involved. Probably I can remember the recipe. . .

2 cups white sugar
2 cups brown sugar
4 sticks of softened butter
2 tsp. vanilla
4 eggs
2 cups peanut butter
6 cups of flour
2 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt
2 cups chocolate chips

Cream butter and sugar; mix in vanilla, beat in eggs, continue to mix and add in peanut butter. Mix dry ingredients together; stir dry ingredients into wet ingredients. Stir in chocolate chips. Use a small cookie scoop; bake on a cookie sheet for approx. 10 minutes at 350 degrees.

It was originally from our Fannie Farmer cookbook, but she used shortening instead of butter and no chocolate. Also, she hand rolled each cookie and then flattened it twice with a fork. If you use butter instead of shortening, the cookies don’t need to be mooshed flat; they’ll melt flat. Flat enough, anyway.

I once again discovered that if you shop for your books online instead of at the campus store, you can save something like 45%. Last semester I took it from $979 to $5** (don’t remember exactly). This time it down from $800 to about $450.

I’m going to try to do better this semester with staying inside the word limit. Then again, that might be the fear stemming from an entire boxful of books speaking.