Letterman is a douche bag. Or, at least, he’s a moron that doesn’t preview the jokes prepared by douchebag writers. He’s consistently crotchety, cranky, rude, crass, and not at all respectful toward women. But he doesn’t need to lose his job over it.

Sarah Palin needs to learn to be ABOVE this kind of inflammatory nonsense. A simple, “I am disappointed that such a well-known funny man would so recklessly risk being identified as finding statutory rape and abuse of a teen as a source of comedy. It is not funny, nor is open misogyny.” would suffice.

And that should be that.

But instead, we have calls for his being fired.

That’s like insisting that a private citizen who donated to the Prop 8 campaign be fired from his job because of his personal moral beliefs. Just because someone believes and supports something others don’t agree with does NOT mean they should lose a job over it unless it is directly interfering with that person’s ability to perform job duties.

David Letterman is sometimes amusing, sometimes not. I don’t find it funny when a person disparages a woman for being a woman. Sarah Palin is not everyone’s favorite political figure. There are folks who didn’t vote for McCain simply because they didn’t like HER, even though they were ok with him. So America has already shown its preference.

This is what makes her an easy target for hack writers who can’t find anything better to make jokes about. So what if she was in New York? Why call attention to it? Because you need attention to make a showing against a competing network late night talk show that’s got new and interesting things going on. It’s just a cheap shot.

That’s ALL late night talk show jokes are about. They’re cheap shots. Some are just classier about it than others.

So let’s treat it like that’s what it is. Express disappointment. Boycott advertisers if you wish. I unknowingly boycott 99% of those advertisers because I’m jobless, can’t pay my bills as they are, and have no money to not support them with ANYway. I have far bigger things to worry about than David Letterman behaving rudely.

Don’t say the man should be fired. Just let him be the same crass-tastic jerk he’s always been on television.

And leave Sarah Palin out of the news. For heaven’s sake. Let the woman go see a ball game with her family if she wants! If she starts running for office again… then she’s fair game, and knows that’s the price you pay for being in the public eye. Until then, let her quietly be the middle class governor of Alaska who is NOT our current vice president.

Alaskans might care about her antics in New York, but really… the rest of us don’t. And she’s not funny. Her young daughters are not funny. And no, she does NOT look like a slutty stewardess, no matter how much you might LIKE her to be one in your fantasies.

Which brings me to another point. I could write pages and pages on the way women who have run for political office are portrayed. Chicks on all sides of the political spectrum are portrayed alternately as cold-hearted, bitchy, and sexless, or brainless, slutty and irrelevant; none of which ANY of the women who have made it to ANY political office are. There is no happy medium for a woman. If you prove efficient and determined, you’re a calculating bitch. Yet if you show you have a heart and feelings, you’re too emotional. If you exhibit a sense of personal style and grooming, you’re slutty or trying too hard, or calling undue attention to your femininity when you should be paying attention to the issues at hand. But if you don’t make an attempt at being attractive, then you’re not a real woman, and you’re clearly too cold and heartless to be a good person.

You can’t win, ladies. And you have to be FAR stronger than any man to soldier on.

And God forbid you have a family. If you do, expect them to be dragged into the muck right along with you.

No, the only woman who stands a chance in the world of governance is a woman who HAS demonstrated that she has a heart, but has clearly sacrificed all for her public alone, and no longer has personal impediments to distract her from caring for the public and the job at hand. She must have been human, but have moved on to a saintly aloofness. She must be visibly touched, but remain untouchable. Jibes at her personal life or her past must be utterly beyond her concern, while she is only openly concerned about others, and their plight. And it ALL has to be utterly honest and genuine. The public can smell insincerity from across the globe.

The woman who would be a public servant must truly sacrifice herself entirely in service to the public. No man ever has to sacrifice as much to hold office as a woman does. And I honestly think THIS is why we still have not had a woman president. No woman can be both sexless and sexy, cold and warm-hearted, innocent and beyond reproach, yet knowledgeable and savvy all at once. If she is appreciated for her femininity, she is not completely respected as a leader. If she is respected as a leader, she is not completely appreciated as a woman. Our society demands that women be either one or the other entirely, and still can not handle the fact that many (most) women have the innate capacity for all of these things combined.

I’m not saying it’s right. I’m just saying that’s the way it is, even in our so-called modern and enlightened society.

I said ‘dork’ rather than ‘geek’, because real geeks don’t waste as many hours on mmorpgs as dorks do.

But ole Bill here… well, he’s pretty cool.

And so is Mr. T.

Yes. I play this game from time to time. So? I like killing/maiming/beating-up things without real consequences. It keeps me from being tempted to do the killing/maiming/beating-up that WOULD have real consequences. And lately… well… there are people who have deserved at LEAST a good ass-whoopin’.

It might be good that I don’t own guns now. But I will, someday.

I lost someone very dear to me on Sunday, August 26.

A year ago I was celebrating the beginning of a new life for one friend, taking part in her wedding. August 26 is a beautiful, wonderful day because of that.

This year, I lost someone. August 26 is a horrible day because of that.

Then again, attaching significance to this day or that is just our way of commemorating moments that mean something to us.

I would rather commemorate a life lived well. I would rather commemorate the love that was shared.

I hurt… deeply and profoundly. One of my best friends in this lifetime is gone. I no longer have the benefit of her compassion, her kindness, her support, her advice, her strong shoulder to cry on, her sparkling joy at my triumphs, her wisdom, her soothing southern drawl, her expansive hugs.

Had I been wired differently, I kid you not, I might have tried to steal her from her husband. That is how well we clicked. She offered me an outlet for many things… one that I needed. And she often said I was a catalyst for her to learn to express things that she also needed. We learned from one another. We grew from our association (though I’m convinced I did more growing than she).

Hours of creative collaboration, hours upon hours of laughter, hours upon hours upon hours of earnest conversation about everything under the sun. There were no awkward silences with her, only comfortable and restful pause.

She spurred me to be me. She counseled me toward being better at being me. She admonished me when I was being ridiculous. She smoothed by jagged edges, and helped me in my efforts to piece together the shattered thing that is my soul.

Many people come through our lives. Many affect us, some touch us deeply, and others become indispensable. She was in that last category for me, and I know that no one will ever fill the emptiness that is her absence. So… I will decorate that space with memories of her, and the love we shared, the laughter that shook us so hard we couldn’t breathe, the small triumphs… I’ll paint it all in shades of purple and jewel tones.

I will miss my sistah-frien’.
I grieve the big sister chosen by my heart.

And I will think of her soaring through the heavens.

Her star

I promise to try not to cry too much.

Ok… ok… it wasn’t like that.

Not so bad. For a twenty year class reunion.

They made me go… I wasn’t sure I wanted to, and couldn’t REALLY afford it… but when they say, “We’ll buy your ticket” what excuse is left? It’s not like I had something else I had to do. Then they call that day and say, “We’re picking you up, ok?” Rats. So now I can’t fake out and say I forgot, or I didn’t feel good…

It wasn’t a huge turnout, there were a lot of faces I remember that were missing, but there were many that did show up. And… they’re all nice.

It’s kind of cool to be over that high school attitude thing and just talk to people about their lives, and their kids, and stuff. (An aside… as a class… in general, it seems we all do good work when it comes to making babies. Every single picture of someone’s child that I saw was ADORABLE. What is it, superior genes? Are we the master race? Or maybe it was all that selenium in the water in Kerman in 1987…)

20 years. Has it REALLY been that long?

So… I’ll share some photos. First… T gave me some pictures she had found from high school. Blast from past. Was I REALLY that skinny? Dayamn!

And now some photos from the reunion. I used to know these people. A lot of them still look the same. It’s… uncanny. Surreal.

Just odd.

To see people after all this time.

But fun. I’ll give it that.

Not a bad looking bunch, eh?

So it wasn’t a waste of a night.

Use of the phrase

“Bare with me” or “Bare with us”.

If you just read that and you don’t know what it is about those words that annoy me… then you annoy me too.

I have seen these phrases all over the place – in official emails from my school to students, in personal online profiles (myspace, tribe, other social networking sites), in print advertisements, on high traffic business/professional websites.

It’s disgusting. Seriously.

I see that, and it makes me think less of that person, organization, company.

I don’t want to bare with anyone. Ok, maybe not with JUST anyone… I might be persuaded by the right person, but I’m NOT getting naked with you. Thanks.

I MIGHT be persuaded to bear with you, as in “to bear the burden of this” with you. I’m a nice person. I might help you with your cross to bear. I can stand to bear the inconvenience as you revamp your website, remodel your store, resurface the parking lot. I can bear all those things.

I cannot, however, bear to be asked to bare myself with you. I won’t bare for any of those reasons.

I just…

can’t.

So… people… learn the difference between

carrying something

large, scary, furry wild animal

and

nakedness.

Please? Please learn this? I do not like to think I’m smarter than people in positions of authority and responsibility. It makes me worry about the future of mankind.

Kinda depressing, too, because why do THOSE people make more money than I do?

It’s like watching a train wreck.

But it’s also a lesson in why you should never consign personal issues to email.

Even if they aren’t meant to go public… they can go public. In a big way.

Yet… it CAN generate some… sort… of interest in a person’s work…

For god’s sake, people. Give the man a break. He’s a fucking writer! Artsy people are ALWAYS to be considered insane. Come ON! Of COURSE he’s nuttier than a Payday. He spends hours on end manipulating language.

And hey… at least he isn’t an emaciated plasticene princess going to court for her DUI problems because it seems to be the fashionable thing to do these days.

At least THIS is about REAL humanity. Love and loss and betrayal and rising above it all… And stuff.

Yeah, man.

You may have noticed. I joined the ranks of bloggers who are a part of the payperpost crowd.

What is it?

It’s an opportunity to post about products, services, web sites, and all sorts of other things… AND get paid for them.

“Why,” you ask, “would you do such a thing, Joy? That’s… selling out!”

But it isn’t. I choose what I post about. I look at the listing of post opportunities available to me (companies or people that want someone to blog about whatever cool thing they think people should hear about), and *I* choose what I write about. I don’t always choose to do posts on what’s available. I suppose there ARE people who will blog about anything for a few bucks, but I think it’s more appropriate to find things that DO interest me, products or services I HAVE used, or WOULD use, and blog about those. So what if I get paid for it? I’m never dishonest about it… I will always say what I really think about whatever is going into my blog.

So why do I do it? Because a few extra bucks here and there are more than helpful to me these days. And you know what? If I can call someone’s attention to something *I* think is interesting, or entertaining, or cool, or just useful… then… why not? Why not help a business out a little if I think they have something worthwhile to offer?

And heaven knows I can blog a blue streak.

So, Joy, how did you find out about this interesting $$ for blog posts thing?

I honestly don’t recall. I think I saw it while surfing other blogs. Someone had a link, because they did it, and I clicked and thought, “Well, *I* am certainly no slouch when typing my fingies off… why shouldn’t *I* get paid to write about stuff? I do that all the time anyway.”

Well, then. What have you learned from your experience?

For one, it’s ridiculously easy. I check for post opportunities. I gauge whether one is appropriate for me. I check into the product or service, or whatever it is, to learn more about it. Then I make a blog post. I wait to see if it meets the posting requirements, if they approve it, and then after a reasonable period of time (to make sure I don’t delete the post or the blog, and for them to have the time to review the posting), money gets deposited into my Paypal account.

Over the time I’ve been doing this I’ve also had the chance to hear about products, services, upcoming movies, television shows, etc… that I might never have known about. A good many of them HAVE been of interest to me. It’s nice to be able to pass the information on to anyone who might share my tastes.

So you feel comfortable using your blog to advertise things for others?

Sure I do. I do it all the time anyway. If I see something cool, I often link to a website or a picture. In fact, when you find something REALLY neat, or you know of a movie you’re anticipating seeing, or you have JUST found the most AMAZING deal on something… don’t you tell people about it? I do this all the time in conversations, on my blog, in email… This way, I also get remuneration for it. It’s really not much. Or, at least, I haven’t had any big $$ blog post opportunities come up, but every little bit counts, and it does add up. In fact, this post, of itself, is a payperpost blog posting. They want people to tell other people why they do it, what it is, how they like it.

Why not?

So, yeah. Sometimes I blog for money. But I’m open about it, I’m honest about it, and I don’t JUST do it to make the money. It’s fun.

Two finals tomorrow, a paper to write, a crapload of busywork to get caught up on…

and I’m fuckin’ around with everything else.

I sort of don’t care, though. Does anybody care if I do well in school? Is it going to do me any good? No.

Maybe I should head to New Orleans and look for this house I’m singin’ about.

So there it is, part of what I did on Sunday night. It wasn’t bad, I’ll admit to that. I wasn’t as good as I think I should have been… and at one time I COULD have been as good as my standards demand. I don’t know if I’ll reach that again, but it’ll be fun to kill some time trying.

Yeah, it wasn’t bad. It was just as good as lecram’s part of the set (and I wish he’d put up video of some of that, too… not to mention the postal song). I hope he doesn’t really do as he’s threatened and not sing with us again.

Sunday was nice. It was fun. I got reacquainted with a microphone after many years. I pulled it off. (Even if it wasn’t up to par by my standards.) People were very kind and complimentary. Two people from school even ACTUALLY came to see me. And hung out with me afterward!

The guys are very cool to me. They’re tolerant, and encouraging, and SO damned easy to sing for. They’re so good they make it easier for me. And I have a very easy part to start with. All I have to do is be the singing monkey. They actually gots skillz. So I’m honored that they’ll have me singing with them. I’m looking forward to more to come.

THEN… when all that was over, it was verrry satisfying to sit and watch Tale End. What a fantastic play. What fantastic people bringing the story to life. And I SO dig all the twisting and turning. It’s just the sort of unrelenting, sadistic mindfuck I like in my fiction.

Great night, was Sunday.

I know it was. I just wish I could feel it instead of being emotionally numb.

OH! An aside… I had my first taste of Jägermeister before the show. I tried to decline, but the boys were having shots… and insisted I have one as well. You can’t desert the band in this way. Not a good idea before a show. Though they did accede to me just sipping rather than slinging it back.

This was a good thing, because after about 4-5 ‘sips’… I started to get that weird, slightly unfocused halo around everything… and I couldn’t…quite… zero in on any one thing or person. I discovered that my brows were knit in concentration (and consternation) as I tried to remain in control. At which point I STOPPED sipping. And pushed away my Cap’n and Coke as well.

Otherwise it might have been a REALLY amusing show when the girl toppled off the stage for no apparent reason, after forgetting every word of every song…

But why didn’t anyone tell me Jäger tastes GOOD? Geez. Lemme splain dat. When I was a teen… I found that I had become dependent on (read that… addicted to) a liquid allergy medication I had been on for many years. I mean… I really did need an allergy med, but I spent a good deal of time slightly woozy in the spring and fall every year. And THAT stuff… bore a striking taste similarity to the Jägermeister. Nostalgia? Something.

(And it’s just cool that it’s a historical family name. Tha’s right. I have some hunter in me.)

Do try not to capsize the boat. I’m not sure where we’re headed… honestly… but I do have a lot of things on my mind, and I’m fairly certain they’re going to all jumble together into some sort of crazed unreality, but… you know… it’s my brain we’re talkin’ ’bout here.

sooooooo

Picture yourself in a boat on a river,
With tangerine trees and marmalade skies
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly,
A girl with kaleidoscope eyes.

Down to business.

It’s been one of those days. One of those “I hate life, I’d rather not be here for this life thing right now.” days.

So… I’m going to bitch about things that don’t matter.

Do you ever have that feeling of futility? I’m talking about that feeling that just makes you feel like there REALLY is no point in trying, or caring, or making an effort. It’s insidious. It stems from a great many places in one’s life. Lost love. Failure to accomplish something. Frustration at some situation one can’t change. Or maybe you just had a bad day.

Or… maybe… you look at the state of the country where you live and think… “What the fuck?”

Then you see something like this posted in a bulletin on Myspace:

And you say… “WHAT the FUCK?!”

So… you do a little google search… and find this:

(Skip through this one. It’s painfully long, boring, and not very interesting, except for about the last 25% where you see the ‘ritual’. And even that’s not all that interesting in itself… see my comments to come.)

Let me make this perfectly clear. I don’t buy the conspiracy theme. At least… not in the way the guy that did that last video seems to look at it.

But now…. now I’m going… “WHAT… the…. FUCK!!!!”

Here I am, a single mom without an income. I happen to be white, and attending school, so I don’t qualify for much, if any, sort of government sponsored aid. No. Can’t even get much of a fucking grant. Certainly doesn’t cover my tuition.

But you know, I’m really not that bad off. I look around and see other people whose lives and circumstances are even MORE dire…

And then I watch things like the above to find that the movers and shakers of this country are spending their time cavorting in the forest and having ‘summer camp’ complete with ridiculous, outdated, time-worn rituals.

Did you watch the ritual? Did you SEE how goddamned HOKEY that thing is? Yes… The people who make POLICY for our GOVERNMENT, who lead our nation, some of whom have been Commander In Chief…. play dress up and burn shit to a soundtrack that sounds like it came from a REALLY bad 30s B movie.

These are the guys who think they’re qualified to tell ME how to live my life. I’m just getting by. I don’t GET a vacation. I can’t afford to go hang out in the woods and swill expensive whiskey by the fireside in mountain lodges. I can’t afford an $80+ robe to participate in the pageantry of asinine mysticism about the “Cremation of Care”.

I won’t even get into the “no women allowed” bit. Wait… no… I’ll get into it just this much. If women were to get together in such a huge, secretive gathering… even powerful, brilliant, rich, accomplished women… it wouldn’t have the aura of ‘legitimacy’ to it that these guys get from it being a gathering of the nations most elite and well-off “good ole boy” network.

When I really try to put my finger on why I’m irked by this… I think it comes down to this.

I don’t really care if scores of overgrown frat boys want to go play “I’m an elite dumbass” in the woods and play dressup and think they’re really cool. What offends me so deeply… is… really… that they just have SUCH a lack of taste, and no imagination.

I’d like to transplant the lot of them into a Burning Man camp suddenly… and see what would happen. Apoplexy in some cases, I’m sure. But… maybe… enlightenment in others.

*snicker*

It has gone on for so long, the behind-the-scenes machinations.

I have heard too many first hand accounts of the nastiness directed at others, the talking behind backs while the unknowing target puts heart and soul into their performance, the sniping and cruel criticisms, the venom and tittering laughter while someone does their best on stage.

I have seen the results of these passive-aggressive tactics.

And now I’m pissed. This nonsense needs to stop. Grown women should not behave, act, or REact as it seems people are doing.

For one thing, if you have a problem with someone, or the way they have costumed, or the photos they took to promote an upcoming event, or their performance… it is inappropriate to discuss such things with others in a derogatory and scathing manner. It makes you look like an ass. It makes you appear to be nothing better than jealous, and nothing less than petty.

Dancers, performers, instructors, who are confident in their abilities and in the esteem of their students and audiences… do NOT need to disparage the efforts of other dancers.

Someone who has nothing to fear, and who deserves the respect of everyone in a local dance community, should NOT be spreading innuendo, rumor, and outright lies about a person they have not had the courage to approach regarding that person’s intentions or troupe affiliation.

No. Let me be blunt. That may be best. Let’s just really lay the cards out on the table here. I’ll show my hand. Do you have the courage to show yours? Hm?

Do not go to my instructor, the person I consider to be my main dance mentor, someone very dear to my heart, and fill her ear with poison about me or my intentions. How can someone who has spent almost no time with me, has no clue about my character or integrity, and who has made NO attempt to address their concerns TO me… have any idea what I’m thinking, or what I’m doing?

I am angered that a person would DARE to use someone I respect so much in this way. I am aghast that they would presume to pay lip service to the idea of “hurting her”, when it is their own intrigue, whisperings and conjecture that does the hurting.

Do you want to know what troupe I identify with, of which I am a part? Ask ME.
Do you want to know if I intend to leave that troupe? Ask ME.
Do you want to know why I’m participating in an event? Ask ME.

I have always been up front about my intentions. I dance with whom and where I please. That has always been clear. When I have committed to a troupe event, I won’t let anything get in the way of that. That does not stop me from pursuing other interests at other times.

My instructor has always been supportive of my efforts to learn and grow. She has always been supportive of my efforts to dance at various events, in various venues, with various people.

I have always been clear in my affiliation with her troupe whenever I DO those events, so people will know who taught me. It gives credit where credit is due. It makes it clear that, while I’m doing an outside event, I am also part of something else, and maybe people will want to see what that’s all about as well.

So, yes, I use the troupe name when promoting my dancing, because people should know that members of our troupe are versatile.

There is no disrespect for my instructor in dancing with other people. In fact, it shows the respect she has for ME, or any of her other students, that she encourages us to pursue our dance interests outside what we do with the troupe.

I am disheartened that there are those who seek to undermine the relationship between my teacher and her students by coming to her with twisted tales of what I’m doing, and why I’m doing it.

These same people who have, by first hand accounts, spoken so very poorly of her, and said things I find reprehensible.

So let’s just clear the air. I have absolutely nothing to hide, and I certainly have no shame in what I’m about to say.

My name is Joy. I am a dancer with the Ananka Dance Company in Fresno, California, and I have been so affiliated since 1998. My teacher, and main instructor, is Ely Buffin. She has a wealth of knowledge of which I know I haven’t even scratched the surface. She is also a wonderful human being that I am pleased to have made a part of my life, and I would never intentionally, or knowingly, disrespect her. I have much to learn from her, and as long as she is willing to share her knowledge with me, I will keep learning.

I also dance with other people. There are several former students of Ely’s that I consider good friends. If and when I am invited to dance with them, I will do so as I please, as my time and schedule allow, with a happy heart that I can share my time with people who share my dance roots.

I will dance with people who are not affiliated directly with Ely. I have in the past, and intend in the future, to learn from many different instructors, take workshops in things that interest me, and continually pursue different styles of dance.

I count Lydia, the director of Tanjora Tribal Bellydance, as a dear friend. We have discovered many things in common outside of our shared interest in dancing, and our friendship has grown, independent of it. I have danced with her at various times. She has referred jobs to me, and I have shared job referrals with her. I have no intention of avoiding association with her, or her troupe. I have met most of the people that dance with her, and I like everyone I have met thus far. If invited to dance with them as a guest, I would be delighted to do so.

People who treat me with respect and kindness will receive the same from me. I am saddened to know there are those for whom I once held great respect and esteem that have seen fit to make assumptions about me and my personal character that are incorrect and unflattering.

I will make no apologies for participating in an event billed as “pirate bellydance”.

It’s fun. It’s funny. It’s a lark. It’s fantasy. It also happens to be a popular trend nationwide. It’s performance art of a different kind. (And not much of a departure from what I’ve done with the troupe all these years.) What IF… pirate wenches bellydanced? What would that look like?

If you come to the show on May 25, you’ll get our perspective on the idea.

I may be unwelcome at your events, but you are more than welcome to attend mine. What I do may not be what you do, but I don’t fear what you do. I do not consider what you do as a reflection on MY artistic expression. And you should not consider what *I* do as a reflection on yours.

You can be certain I will show less skin while doing it than the persons who have made unkind remarks about my photos have shown in their own past performances.

And I always wear proper underwear.