#from my wordpress

[heather--moors]

Heathermoors

[buttsoclock]

https://thatfeministmom.wordpress.com/2019/07/04/91/

So, uh…happy Fourth of July.

Honestly I don’t even know where to start today.

It’s the Fourth of July, and a lot of people are going to be spending the weekend barbecuing/grilling, watching fireworks, and waving flags and sparklers. They’re celebrating our independence as a country, our break away from oppressive tyranny to start our whole new history as our own nation.

That history has always been fraught with complications, and when I say complications I mean outright racism. And I’m already losing readers, I’m sure, because no one wants to acknowledge that. America has done racist things in the past, sure, but that’s not what defines us, right?

I mean, it kind of is. Much of America was built through slavery and genocide.

We can’t change the past. We can’t change how America was built. And anyway, that’s a story for another blog—or, you know, for a whole series of history books, which you should definitely read—that I’m not prepared to write right now.

What we can and should change is the present.

It’s so hard for me to get into a patriotic mood, knowing that there are people literally held in concentration camps right now. (No, not death camps—people seem to think it’s all okay as long as it’s not death camps—but they are definitely concentration camps, with conditions that can easily lead to death.)

I don’t want to wave sparklers around and sing God Bless the USA knowing that there are people being denied toothpaste, soap, etc. I refuse to wave tiny American flags and declare my pride in a country that is making so many suffer through emotional and physical abuse, including holding them without adequate food or water, and leaving them sick and overcrowded.

You can’t tell me it’s about cost, because a lot of the abuses taking place there have no money-saving effect, and they were even turning away donations of needed supplies. Not to mention they’ve admitted it would be more cost effective to just keep kids with their parents. No, it’s become pretty clear that these camps are less about protecting the US economy from threats undocumented immigrants allegedly pose, and all about dehumanization of people we can paint as “other.”

You definitely can’t tell me it’s about morality, because there is no world in which this can be said to be moral.

Sure, you can tell me it’s about the law. But we’ve heard that argument in history so many times, to defend rampant abuse of human rights in response to people breaking unjust laws. Law and morality are two very different things, mind you, and when you tell me that not just general punishment, but abuses to this degree, are morally justifiable because of the law, it is clear you and I have very different ideas on what it means to be moral.

I’m sorry, but to hell with the Fourth of July this year. To hell with patriotism. To hell with anyone proud of the way the US is behaving right now. We have things we need to fix. I can’t, in good conscience, celebrate this country’s accomplishment while turning a blind eye to its abhorrent treatment of people anywhere.

And no, I don’t care that they’re not US citizens, or that they came here “illegally” (in many cases to seek asylum which is NOT illegal). They’re human beings. And the moment you decide that some humans’ lives matter less because of their geographic origins or skin color, you put yourself on the wrong side. There is no argument, there is no “agree to disagree.” You are on the wrong side if you support abuse of human beings—men, women, and children, especially children—to this extent for any reason.

I’m sure many will say it’s in poor taste for me to be discussing this now, today, on our nation’s celebration of its independence. I think this is the best time to discuss it. I think we need to see the juxtaposition of blind performative patriotism alongside the very real and disturbing aspects of America. We have to shake ourselves from this delusion that America is perfect and we should celebrate it in its present perfection.

Please pay attention. I’m honestly begging you. Please watch what’s happening, be willing to acknowledge that maybe our country’s guiding principles aren’t perfect, be willing to actually see what’s happening for what it is. This is terrifying, and sickening, and I cannot wrap my head around the number of people who are willing to justify and excuse it. I say this today because today is when we’re all so aware of our country and its history, and we desperately need to shift the perspective of that awareness.

“I love America more than any other country in this world, and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.” –James Baldwin

Criticize America. Criticize it as harshly as you criticize those who seek to change it.  Especially today.

[middlelioness]

The snow is falling,

  scents of baking fill the air.

  Lights are in the trees.

    Choirs sing their carols.

  With old memories comes the

  wonder of children.

    Family gathers

  or else dwells in our minds for

  this snowy season.

    All these things wake hope

  from it’s cold, winter slumber

  to prove it’s purpose.

    That being, my dear,

  to make you warm on this night

  and make bright the dark.

  ---------

  This is a haiku I posted a while back on my WordPress. Merry Christmas everybody!

[quiperling-blog]

About Monday Night

I swore I wouldn't get political. I swore that I would keep my opinions about what's going on in America to myself. I swore to not let it bleed out onto social media.

But after Monday night and seeing some of the fallout from the presidential debate, I have to say something because this is galling.

I do not make it a secret that I am someone who lives with a variety of mental illnesses that debilitate my ability to live a normal, functional, adult life. The doctors, therapists, school counselors, and teachers I have encountered over the past twenty-three years have described it as thus: generalized anxiety with social phobias and some shades of agoraphobia, chronic depression or bipolar type II, sensory processing issues, and "(vague gesturing) Somewhere on the autism spectrum" due to elements of ADHD and Asperger's being expressed, chronically, as early as four, five years-old; since all three (well, two, with Asperger's expulsion from the DSM) exist on, well. A spectrum.

What a rat's warren of words. It's easier to lay everything out in the context of day-to-day functionality. I've found that examples and comparisons work the best when explaining it to others.

After Monday night's debate, I now have a short-hand way to refer to how I interview for job positions: Donald Trump's performance in the first presidential debate, without the interruptions, talking over, and snarky comments.

Bullet points are nice and easy to read, so please allow me to explain this comparison further:

Persistent and uncontrollable tics. Trump's snorting is practically a meme at this point. My hand-flapping and frequent gesticulation, most especially when I'm anxious and trying to collect my thoughts in a conversation, is just as noticeable.

Inability to answer questions. Trump went off on tangents and, from all appearances, seemed to forget the question while trying to navigate through the sheer mess of what he was saying. This is likely my biggest problem when interviewing: My brain is in panic mode, "fight or flight and I just want to flight from this room" so I can hardly listen and process what I'm being asked. But to sit there in silence while trying to pull my thoughts and understanding together is an interview no-no; I need to say SOMETHING so I will go off on the first thought I have that may or may not result to the bulk of the question. For example: "Where do you see yourself in five years?" My brain is like "OKAY so we need to say STUFF RELATING TO THIS COMPANY while also EMPHASIZING STRENGTHS" so I will talk about my writing and computer abilities. Only that's what I get stuck on talking about. I catch myself, mid-tangent, but I cannot remember the question. I remember "FUTURE" and so I talk about how awesome learning to program would be or maybe becoming a therapist to help people who are like me and HOLY SHIT I cannot stop talking until I manually cut myself off. And leave the point awkwardly hanging.

Similar to that mess up there, I over-emphasize the points that my panicky brain thinks are good. So the answer might just turn into "In the FUTURE I will be a published author while still advancing the FUTURE goals and mission statement of your company all in the FUTURE." Complete, of course, with physical hand gestures and syllabic stressing. How much did Trump want to emphasize his PROPERTIES and ENDORSEMENTS on Monday night?

Inability to control facial reactions. Trump read, to me, as contemptuous but overwhelmed, just on facial expressions. I saw no composure, no poise, and, certainly, not a shred of dignity. When an interviewer asks me a question that prompts thoughts of "oh shit how do I answer this" my expression is..."oh shit how do I answer this." Just as composed, poised, and dignified.

It's no small wonder, then, that every single job that I have interviewed, with only a resume preceding the interview, I am never called back. After all, with the job market the way it is, someone with my education, my capabilities, my capacity to learn, my writing abilities...Most certainly, that candidate has also applied. But that candidate doesn't have a panic attack in the interview room. That candidate is able to approach the interview as a conversation, a dialogue, and present themselves as someone who doesn't crack under pressure. Me? I'm trying to end the experience as quickly (but politely) as possible so I can have a panic attack in the car and thank every God and angel I can think of that it's over. I certainly won't get the job but the interview is OVER and the danger is GONE. And, in that state of mind, that's all that matters.

The only jobs that I have held had tests to complete before submitting the application. The teller job? Mathematical test. Call center job? A multiple choice test navigating heavily-idealistic inbound customer calls. Data entry job? They wanted a minimum 30 WPM and I just tested at 80+ WPM. I would not be surprised that those who have hired me, even after the catastrophic interviews, they look at the tests and say, "Well, she's a disaster in-person, but holy crap does she kick our testing standards in the teeth."

With all this in mind, I have to admit, I'm shocked that people looked at Donald Trump's performance Monday night and declared him the winner. Not even considering Hillary Clinton's performance. They saw Donald Trump press his case for becoming President of the United States of America with all the grace of a young woman with a debilitating anxiety disorder.

And people judged him capable of being the President.

So, I would like to ask the job interviewers who judge Donald Trump's performance as acceptable, even laudable:

How about you hire me?

[andwhentheworldisspinning]

pas·sion [pash-uhn]

noun

1. any powerful or compelling emotion or feeling, as love or hate.

2. strong amorous feeling or desire; love; ardor.

Why does it seem to be such a requirement for life these days? What if I’m sure what I’m passionate about (if anything at all)? What then?

These days, I tend to be passionate about a lot of little things. Overall, I’ve found that I love about hearing stories from people who are passionate about things. I love hearing stories from musicians about how they wrote a song, or from authors who threw themselves totally into their work despite a lack of finances, or from scientists who work for decades trying to find cures to awful diseases.

Recently, however, I’ve been feeling a pull toward the mundane. I’d rather read a book or see a movie about a character who is totally normal (but unique in their own rite). I don’t want to read inspiring novels that will make me weep, or adventure stories that have me page-turning into the wee hours of the morning. I want normal because I feel normal. I want people who are just people, not superheroes or idols or celebrities. Even if a person is a celebrity, I don’t want to hear their red carpet stories, I want to hear things that I can relate to.

But is “mundane things that everyone can relate to” a passion? What if it’s not? Then what? What if I’m that mundane character whose life is always just pretty ho-hum and who just goes through the motions.

Or worse, what if my life isn’t a movie. What if I’m just some stupid human on this stupid planet just living her life and getting by?

What if passion isn’t required for life? What if passion just gets in the way of living? But if passion gets in the way of living, then what is living even for? What’s the point?

If we have free will to make choices and find passion, then shouldn’t passion (or at least mild interest) be a driving force in life? If it is (which, according to everything I’ve heard lately about career goals and college degrees), then what happens if you’re not passionate about anything? What if I don’t love any single thing enough to make anything out of it or wrap my entire life around it? Can I still be successful if I only listen to the same handful of indie artists and read the same handful of books forever?

Is passion a requirement for life to be worth living or is it (like so many other things) just something that people have convinced themselves is one?

[andwhentheworldisspinning]

30 Day Challenge -- Day 2: Your Dream Profession

As I’m sure you gathered from one of my Facts from my Day 1 fill, I want to be a journalist. My current interest is in independent entertainment and right now, within that concentration, I’m interested in music. I don’t have a whole long list of people I’d like to interview, but I do have a list of experiences that I’d like to have.

I’m gonna be perfectly honest here. I decided to pursue journalism because I like learning and I live pretty vicariously (which journalism is a total enabler to). I also decided to become a journalist so I could meet a lot of talented and amazing people and pick their brains. I want that chance to get to know (and possibly befriend) those people that I’m not only a fan of, but personally influenced by. So, yeah, I guess that some of my career “goals” are somewhat selfish ones and the writing part of my job will be more of a consequence of my interactions with people, not the motivation for the interactions, but it is what it is, I guess.

Anyway, the question for today (well, yesterday really) was “describe” your dream job (not “explain in a really awful way how you decided upon it”) so I should probably write about that now. (Sorry about the awkward stream-of-consciousness style that I’m writing in right now, by the way.)

So, if I brewed up some Felix Felices and then looked 10 years into the future, I’d probably be working at a relatively small publication that did a lot of really great work and really intimate interviews with independent entertainers (musicians, dancers, theater groups, film makers, etc.). I’d spend every day getting to conduct interviews with people who are truly passionate about their work. I’d get to relive experiences with them and hear stories and lessons from them. I’d be sharing the inspiration that these people have with their fans and other people who also practice their craft. My dream job is basically to absorb as much about independent entertainment as possible and to share it with the world (and maybe make some friends along the way). I want to get to share a person’s feelings of passion and love and care for their craft with those who will appreciate it. So, no, it’s not actually all about my own personal search for knowledge or vicarious living experiences, it’s about sharing that knowledge and those experiences with others so they can feel that passion, drive, love, care and happiness too.

Long-story-short: I would love to be working for a pretty small publication (maybe a magazine or website or radio station) that allows me to connect on a more personal level than working for a really large publication would. I want that one-on-one interaction and that feeling of a true connection. I don’t want surface, I want depth. I want to be constantly surprised and inspired. I want to be that journalist that the artists I interview think of as a friend, not just another person with a note pad. I want to share stories and live vicariously (because if I can’t really do everything, then at least maybe I can come along for the ride, right?).

[andwhentheworldisspinning]

filling the promps for Day 1 of a Writing Challenge. if you want to read it, go ahead!

disclaimer: it hasn't been proofread so i apologize for any and all grammatical/spelling errors.

[andwhentheworldisspinning]

My new Ann Arbor "obsession".

So, as you know, I went to Ann Arbor (known as A2) a few weeks ago for the Darren Criss/Sonic Lunch concert (personal story can be found: here, review: here). But what you don’t know is that ever since then, I’ve sort of become obsessed with it. At first I thought maybe it was a Darren Criss thing, or a U of M jealousy thing, or a hip-ness thing, but now I think I’ve realized that it’s something else.

See, my mom went to U of M and absolutely loved A2. She’ll tell fun stories about her time there and about all the cool things that happened there both during the school year and over the summer, and she just really clearly loves the place. So, I think that’s what’s drawing me to it: that type of stereotypical time-of-your-life college experience.

So far I’ve really felt like my college experience has been pretty bland – if not completely and utterly uneventful. I’m 21 years old and I’ve never been to a party (you know the kind I’m talking about), never gotten drunk, never stayed up all night hanging out with friends, never been on a road trip, never had sex (TMI, sorry), been kissed, or even dated anyone. (I did have a few servings of alcohol Butterbeer once, though! That was awesome!)

And last weekend I was at my cousin’s house in A2 reading a stupid fanfiction about a group of close friends in college while overhearing a fun-sounding party going on next door, and I had this sudden, intense, crazy urge to be a “real” college student all of a sudden. (Not that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind before; it had come and gone relatively quickly.)

It’s not like I want to do a 180 and start going to toga parties every night, getting wasted, and making out with strangers, I just want to feel normal for once. I don’t have a problem being an introverted book nerd who knows almost every line in the Harry Potter films, fangirls (and cries) over glee, and listens to music whenever she’s not reading or writing; I’m just getting tired of being friends with the same kinds of people all the time — nerdy introverts who cosplay anime characters and go on long rants about Supernatural (not that there’s anything wrong with those people! I just really want to hang out with some different people for a change.) I want to get out and try new things and get myself out of my shell a little.

And I guess I associate all of these fun college things with Ann Arbor because I’ve never had anything else tangible to associate them with before. I associate the city with the college experiences that my mom had that I really really want to have. (And the city itself (without the association) is pretty awesome too, I should add!)

So now I am planning on going there as much as I possibly can, looking up A2-based journalism internships for next summer, and trying to find ways to get my best friends (Amber and Kaitlyn) to take me out so I can start feeling more like a college student and a little less like a 12-year-old.