Consistency

Excuse
  For better or for worse I am the same all the time.  I am who I am. I am not different around various groups of people, even when I probably should be.  What you see is what you get, and you can take it or leave it.
If I don’t have a relationship with someone or trust them I will treat that person the same as any other person I don’t know that well, no matter who they are.  I don’t give a fuck if you think I should trust someone, if they haven’t earned it I won’t.  I can’t make myself. That’s not possible for me.  That’s not who I am.
It’s difficult having a double standard applied to that.  I see the world in binary terms.  There are things that fall within the rules and things that don’t.  There are things you should do and things you should not do.  You are who you prove yourself to be.
If you care about something, you demonstrate it through your actions.  If something is important to you, you will make time for it.  If you want a relationship with someone you will take steps to get to know that person.
I can’t take excuses.  It is mind-boggling to me to try to imagine that someone has a genuine desire for something when they never take any action to fulfill that desire.  It might sound naive but I truly truly believe that people do what they want most and they do what is important to them.
If you tell me something is important to you but you never do anything to live that out, I don’t believe you.  I can’t.  And if I can’t believe what you say because you don’t back it up with actions, then I can’t believe what you say.  I don’t trust your word.  That seems basic to me.
Homie likes to argue (and he truly believes) that people are more complicated than that.  He thinks that people can truly desire something, but be too weak or scared or busy to follow through on it.  He argues that just because they don’t do it, that doesn’t negate their desire to do so.  I disagree.
I think that can be true for a time, but there comes a point where if you never follow through then your desire for comfort, or security, or whatever is greater than your desire for the thing you say is important to you.  And that’s okay.  It really is.  You have every right to choose what is important to you.
By the same token though, I have every right to decide if I’m going to trust your word when you never back it up with actions.  And you can’t blame me if I don’t.
Every time I have had a situation where I have put my instincts aside and decided to give someone the benefit of the doubt, open up to them, and trust what they say rather than what they do I have been burned.
And it hurts much worse that second time to be let down or betrayed by someone when I had to convince myself to be in that position despite the voice in my head telling me it wasn’t a good idea.
There is a situation where Homie wants me to throw all of that out the window.  I can’t.  It’s in my bones.  That voice telling me if someone can be trusted is deep inside me.  It’s nearly impossible for me to ignore.  And every time I do ignore it the situation is terrible.
It’s often hard for me to get close to people.  And I’ll admit I probably don’t have a ton of friends for that reason.  I have to fight really hard not to write people off when they let me down or are inconsistent in their behavior.  But the people who I am close with I know I can count on.  They are the best, most loyal, most honest, most dependable group of friends you could ask for.
It is really hard for me to have Homie ask me to act like someone I’m not just because another person says they are genuine.  Why can’t they just demonstrate that they mean what they say?  Why am I supposed to not be who I am?  Why is it okay for me to be cautious with trusting people, until you don’t like it?  Why is it okay for me to be hesitant around people who aren’t being genuine until it’s inconvenient for you?  Why do you get to  apply a double standard to my behavior, to who I am?
I like that I’m consistent in what I believe and how I act.  I like that the voice deep down buried in my bones is an excellent judge of character.  My gut instinct is the bomb diggety, and it pays off time and time again both in my personal life and my professional life.  Why can’t I live the way I believe?  I’ll trust that voice and live my life.  I’ll let people have all the room they need to prove if they’re good people.  But if someone isn’t genuine and they don’t care and they don’t want to know me, I’m not going to play games.  I’m just going to move right along.
You do what you want most.  If something is important to you, you will find a way to demonstrate that.  Doesn’t matter what you say, you are what you do.  That’s how I live, and I’m not okay with being asked to do otherwise.

Some Days

Some days I hate myself.

Some days I hate my life.

Some days I wonder how the heck I got here.

Some days I just want to give up.

Some days I just don’t give a fuck.

Some days I don’t even know what I believe.

Some days I have hope.

Some days I’m optimistic.

Some days I feel like I’m crawling under the weight of the burdens I’m carrying.

I’m Bossy

I have a new blog crush. I stumbled across The Jort Report at work last week.

It came about when I decided that I need to actually print/buy prints of all the quotes that get me through the day. My all time favorite quote, and probably the most true for my life is this:

The cure for anything is salt water, sweat, tears or the sea

I did a google image search because I couldn’t find any prints that I liked. And that brought me to The Jort Report which is the greatest name for a blog ever. I quickly read the recent posts, then in true creeper fashion I started reading through her archives while at work. Which led me to this post from several weeks ago.

And it got me thinking… In high school, Kelis “Bossy” was my anthem. Everyone said I was bossy. I loved it.

But the reason I loved it was because I knew about half of the people who told me I was bossy were actually saying I was “bitchy” and I was okay with that.

As I got into college though I realized I didn’t want to be described as “bitchy” and I started to resist the bossy label. I always felt the need to defend myself when people called me bossy. I would try to clarify that I wasn’t bossy, just in charge. And the reason I was in charge was because no one else was stepping up to the plate.

And that really was true about 95% of the time. No one ever took initiative and made plans or decisions when we were hanging out. And I like things to have a plan; plus my parents would never let me out unless they had details on what we were doing. So if I wanted to go someplace and no one else had made plans for me to run by my parents, I had to make the plans or not go.

I still find myself fairly regularly saying “I’m not bossy, I just…” fill in the blank.

But I’m done with that. I know the whole point of this campaign is to ban bossy. But I love the way Queen Bey said it, “I’m not bossy. I’m the boss.”

I’m gonna try to embrace it next time someone calls me bossy. I’m going to assume that they are actually complementing me on my leadership abilities. After all, if I were a man they would probably have positive feedback for the same behavior that they are labeling me bossy for.

Maybe I will even thank them and say “Thanks, it’s nice to know you think I would make a good boss.” Or “Wow, what is it about me that makes you think I have good leadership skills?”

Maybe… Probs I will just get a margarita and lament to my sisters that I’m not bossy. I just like to be have responsibility.

Fa Real?

I like to think of myself as an intelligent, strong, independent woman.

I assume most women like to think that about themselves.

I work hard. I take care of my responsibilities. I take care of my finances. I take care of my car.

My husband considers me his partner. We share responsibilites equally. Except laundry…cause he won’t touch it no matter how much I hint or ask or declare I’m not doing it all.

But I don’t do dishes, so it all evens out.

I do not do things in my life based on antiquated gender roles. My daddy raised me to take care of myself and be a specific kind of person not woman. My husband treats me as his equal in everything. Because I’m his partner in life. Not a 1950s version of a wife.

I studied gender and feminist theory in school and I love it. I dearly love it. And if someone wants to hold the door for me because I’m another human being and that’s the polite thing to do more power to ’em!

But if you hold the door because I have a vagina, I’m not gonna be impressed…

A few weeks ago we had lunch with Homie’s family. At one point during our lunch my fil made some comment about how the last time he rode Amtrak he had to give up his seat to a woman.

The comment alone wasn’t entirely the problem. He said it in a bragging/lamenting way. As in “oh it was such a drag and so inconvenient” but at the same time his facial expression and his tone and body language were demonstrating that he was so proud of himself. He literally did a fake humble shoulder shrug. “She said she didn’t need to sit, but I kept insisting she take my seat until she finally did. But ah what are you going to do? If there’s a woman you have to give your seat.”

Seriously? You don’t have to give your seat to someone just because they have a vagina. I find that to be disgustingly insulting. If someone is older, or obviously injured, or maybe pregnant then by all means offer your seat. But if there are more people than there are seats and you are capable of standing and don’t mind doing so then you should offer your seat to anyone around you.

A male standing near your seat might have an injury that makes it difficult or painful for him to stand. Or maybe he’s just tired. But our stupid cultural norms have made it unacceptable for him to admit that.

So ask around, offer your seat, but don’t badger and insist that someone with a vagina takes it.

I didn’t say it that explicitly, but I chuckled and said “well…it’s not really necessary to give your seat to someone just because they are female. If I were that woman I would think it was rude of you to insist that I take your seat when I politely refused.” And he was incredulous.

I had kind of pushed that conversation and my outrage over it to the back of my mind until now.  I just got a call from my fil. He never calls me. I didn’t answer because I’m at work. I listened to the voicemail and it said, “I know (your husband) is at work, probably busy, and working hard so I thought I’d call you since you’re not.”

Umm… I’m assuming you meant you knew I’m not at work and not that I’m not busy or working hard. But fa real?! Do you seriously not realize that by saying that you are implying I’m not at work, I’m not working hard, and that I’m just sitting on my ass?

It’s especially irritating because he doesn’t know anything about my work schedule. Or really much else about me.

Love how I never get a call until you want something, and in the process you’re going to insult me. And maybe I wouldn’t quite read it like that were it not for the whole Amtrak story. But fa real man?!

How To Undermine A Rape Victim 101

This is exactly what needs to be said about this.

“Tell yourself that a knee-jerk reaction of you must be lying or remembering it wrong when faced with a victim’s accusations of rape is not a sign that our society is so very, very fucked up. Tell yourself that it’s rational and logical to want to know all sides of the story, though you never want to know the other side, the perpetrator’s side, when your house is broken into or your wallet is stolen or your child is hit by a car.”

 

If you stand silent, you stand for a rape culture that brutalizes the victim. If you stand silent, you stand with those who have committed heinous acts.

The Belle Jar

Trigger warning for talk of rape 

Preface the victim’s open letter about the sexual abuse she suffered at the hands of her father with a statement saying that he deserves the presumption of innocence. Always approach situations like this with the thought that the victim might be lying; remind yourself and others that the burden of proof is on her.

Insist on referring to the victim as the rapist’s “adopted daughter,” as if that mitigates what he has done. Using subtle language cues like this, imply that though it might be rape, it’s not really incest because the the rapist is not the victim’s biological father. Pretend that adoptive parents somehow feel differently about their children than biological parents do.

Like the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, insist on your ability to differentiate between an artist and their art. As a spokesperson for the organization said, “The…

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