Hello my name is Cara and if you're really interested in me; feel free to read my userinfo or journal at any time.
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And as you may have already guessed, I am a woman.
Now the main problem I have is this whole Bridget Jones image that a lot of people have of women. Or that a lot of women have about themselves. A person like me could drive herself nuts around the "Bridget Jones woman."
This is the type of woman who thinks she is less without a man, a marriage proposal and a mortgage...oh yes and if she isn't a size zero, then she is a zero. Bridget Jones woman is never single, and if she is, she goes to her fridge and eats a tonne of Ben and Jerry's all to her single pathetic self. She wears ovary crushing "granny pants" so she can look "sexy" in her "little black number."
I just hate how women are all tarred with this Bridget Jones brush. That we'll do anything for a "shag" or cheap thrill. Or we'll get drunk, fall on our kitchen floor and cry about how we'll die alone...oh no...how terrible. Not!
Get a life, Bridget Jones!
Hey, I just joined. This community seems to represent all the things concerning my gender that I have been afraid to say!
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Thank you, creator of antiwoman.
I'm Rachel, 21, coming up on my senior year of college. I'm an English major, with minors in American Sign Language and Creative Writing. There's a lot more to me than my major, but I don't want to go on and on about myself. You'll get to know me over time, I think :)
I'm anticipating some interesting posts coming out of here!
My college campus is full of girls who make me dislike certain aspects of my gender. Sometimes it just makes me downright angry at how uncreative everyone seems. You know the types. They talk too loud. They talk about how drunk they got the night before. Acrylic nails, sweatpants with words like "Bootylicious" across the ass, bad dye jobs, fake tans...
And it seems like they live in such small worlds. It seems like they live between the kegs and the salon. I don't want to judge, I'm sure some of them are actually nice girls. But that's just it: they're nice. They don't inspire me or challenge me like a good friend should.
I don't have many friends at school. I wish that would change.
Anyway, hello :)
X-Posted to chauvinistos...
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I am a person who believes sexuality exists on a complex continuum. But nonetheless, I am still occasionally judgemental of those who may not fit what I consider to be "ideal" in the realm of bisexualism. Take this with a grain of salt...
I HATE "BISEXUAL" GIRLS WHO DON'T REALLY LIKE GIRLS!
Who are these girls? Allow me to typecast them all unfairly:
1. The drunk girl who gets on her best friend at a frat party in front of a crowd of guys (this includes the random kinky girl recruited for lame threesome with hetero couple)
2. The quintessential women's studies major, who in an efforts to be *truly* open minded and divorce herself from heterosexist privledge claims a bisexual identity
3. The socially akward girl who finds a latent homosexual identity more excusable than a latent heterosexual one.
4. The kinkster, who has an almost narcissistic complex about the beauty of her own body that manifests in an obsession with femininity in other females, often goes hand-in-hand with #1
5. The victim who's been treated like shit by asshole males her whole life and only finds solace in the "safeness" of lesbian identity/sexual relations.
Maybe you think it's cruel. I call it a product of bad dating experience. Allow me to say that the woman-loving-women who don't fall into these categories fucking rule
copied from my journal, am interested in opinions, criticism understood, as well as disagreement...
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here's some history... I've got problems with jealousy/possessiveness/control, he's got problems with lying/flirting/letting his rockstar ego go to his head.
let me just set the scene for you...tj's band plays some out-in-the-backwoods-of-western-new-york-hickville batavia YWCA....some grimy little gym and remember those terrible junior high dances....where all the cool kids and their touchy boyfriends showed up and grinded on each other, flirting, touching, kissing, giggling, running back and forth from their "boy" friend and their girl friends...telling secrets....wearing clothes 3 sizes too small and carrying purses filled with bubble yum bubble gum, cherry scented glitter lip gloss, a mirror and a quarter to call mom to pick them up (though these days they all have their own cell phone at 6)
yeah so all these nasty little girls, and boys cultivating their first pubic hair with multiple orgasms a day thinking about their ditzy, raccoon-eyed "girl" friends and their size 34 AA tits.
all of these kids swarming around thinking they're about to witness the second coming of christ, or at least it seemed they anticipated Justin Timberlake to walk in any second the way they had all their hands down their pants...or someone else's...
right...anyway...nasty gym, grimy people... and me...I barely said 10 sentences the entire pre-show annoyances which included a lack of any sort of indication I was even remotely welcomed there by the one person I was begging for nice words.
the show starts and I perch myself upon a piano with the hopes to stay away from the oozing hormonal adolescence.... (as I'd previously been subjected to multiple and repeated hits by a paper football during a game of let's-all-flirt-and-accidentally-grab-each-others-crotches-as-we-pretend-to-play-football-with-our-fingers-and-a-folded-piece-of-paper) so I'm sitting there and everything goes ok.
the show ends and there's a rush to run back and flirt with what appears to them to be the biggest thing next to avril lavigne and her tie.
I watch with a decent amount of amusement...sufficiently entertaining myself until I could have a decent conversation with him... and then my misery begins. in signing cds and memorabilia some skanky-ass little bitches come up and ask him to sign their bras. lifting up their abercrombie and fitch sweaters to expose their very under-developed chest.
I watch as he laughs, plays coy, embarrassed, says no repeatedly, over and over and over again... tries to defer to another band member, to the mailing list, says no a few more times... and eventually they walk away...
yeah I could understand that...I was proud that it ended the way it did...and was glad those nasty little girls were gone, and I was generally still in good spirits..
he handles the rest of the crowd and starts dismantling the gear and the fucking little skanks return wiggling their now undone bras at him, hoping he'll now sign them off their body.
he turns to me....now let me just remind you this is the first thing he says to me after watching this whole shitty scene go down...and laughing and enjoying the entire situation... says
"can I sign bras that aren't on girls?"
and I stare at him in disbelief. the absurdity of the situation plays in my head and I am speechless. I have little chance to stammer out a disgusted response before he goes over to them to sign their foul undergarments, but he continues to giggle and say nonono I just can't.... until I finally step over, hook my arm into his, and say, without anger, without condescension, without meanness... "listen ladies, I think the bra thing is a little inappropriate, he said no."
they watch me, and stutter out an apology and leave.
does he turn to me thankful? grateful? apologetic? ashamed?
he flips on me. ridiculously angry because he was 'handling' the situation, that I took away his dignity, when in fact I believe I preserved more dignity than he going to be left with if he finished the situation himself...and generally embarrassed him in front of his fans and his friends. he storms to his gear and pushes me out of the way every time I try to get a civil word with him...I'm making an effort not to cause a scene but with me having to chase him down to figure out what went wrong (I was under the very strong impression I had handled that situation perfectly, with tact, politely but firmly) but he causes an obvious scene and I leave bitter, resentful, disgraced, and fully disgusted...
please refer to her stupid post on their message board - please flame at will.
this comes not hours after i was the happiest i'd felt in such a long time...because i'd finally taken matters into my own hands and did something that i was terrified of, and it turned out to be really helpful... of course did i get to share the reasons i was enthralled with life with him? did he ask what i'd did that day? was he concerned at the fact i said very little the whole evening? it certainly puts a damper on a lot. i experimented with the mpeg'ing capabilities of my digital camera, taping a whole song, was he excited? no he belittled me because i was trying to be playful by just telling him i did something cool....
Not so much a gripe about women as a gripe about another group of people: goths. Not just goths, but trendy teenygoths. Or let me blow over with the bullshit and just right out say goths. Alright. We've got that straight.
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Now, if I am properly informed, Gothic is a subculture in our modern world. Therefore, part of a larger whole, most likely not to survive without the whole to "feed" off of.
Part One: Why are Gothic People Enlightened?
1A: Where does this sense of enlightenment come from?
I'm sure I'm not the only person who has noticed that "goths"- not necessarily people you would call "goths", but people who refer to themselves as Gothic- are apt to feel and express a very overblown sense of entitlement and enlightenment. The question is, where does this enlightenment come from, and why are they entitled to it? I have asked many this question, read many websites (all decorated in bad .gifs, sadly), and the answer I usually recieve is something along the lines of "I am enlightened because I have been through a social hell, which drove me to contemplate the darker side of human nature. From that experience, I am enlightened." Two questions arise from this statement-one being "How does putting YOURSELF through a social hell by cutting yourself off from others and mentally elevating yourself above their level make you enlightened?", and the other one being "How is enlightenment proportional to how much of the dark side of human nature you comprehend?" Enlightenment does not equal darkness. Enlightenment is a neutral, non-element aligned concept. Am I wrong? I think not. This "enlightenment" is surely misplaced. Yes, they *do* know how it feels to hurt, but no more than any other person- BARRING THE FACT THAT THEY WERE STUPID ENOUGH TO INFLICT IT ON THEMSELVES. To add to the statement that darkness does not equal enlightenment, Stupidity does not equal Enlightenment. Pain does not equal enlightenment, especially when caused by one's own stupidity. See? It's just like algebra. If I knew the way to write them on the computer, this entire paper could be written as one big long formula.
1B: If Gothic People Are Enlightened, Why do They Feel The need to Show it So Poorly?
On the topic of visiting Gothic websites, there is the problem of logic- enlightenment vs. stupidity. Or, intelligence vs. Very Poor Web Design (TM). Basically, if one is enlightened, why do they waste their time shortening three letter words to one letter, typing alternately in caps and lowercase one letter after another, or spelling things like bed "bedde" and vein "vayne"? You'd think that enlightened people would have something more important to do, like get together and contemplate philosophy and society as a whole, instead of smoking pot and designing bad websites on Geoshitties. Better yet, you'd think they'd have better things to do than to go around on Yahoo looking for bad .gif images of flaming skulls or menorahs. Oh, yes, and don't forget the spinning pentagrams! They make their little niche of the Web look very... enlightened. Also, it's quite interesting (and a little dissapointing) how the "enlightened" of our time are far more concerned with not being "poseurs" than they are about sharing their truth with the world. But fear not! For they *do* share their truths, on a lower scale.
An example. Oh, and that reminds me, let's not forget the feeling of entitlement. While in my opinion, Enlightenment=Entitlement, I do not believe that Stupidity=Enlightenment=Entitlement. Just like I don't believe =Entitlement. Therefore, as I believe we have sorted through, Gothic people are not by default, enlightened by their self-inflicted painful inner conflict. Therefore, they have no leash on entitlement as a subculture whatsoever. No culture, subculture, group, or anything other than an individual has a predetermined grasp on entitlement. And even individuals don't- but they can earn it, unlike a group or culture.
That is all for this week.
Yeah, I'm new, but I'm a decent writer and have been doing so for years. Some of you may not like my writing, and this first post may not win you over. Those of you that actually read it, cause it's pretty long. But here it is, I'm posting it anyway. You know what to do.
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It's been said that Men are from Mars and Women from Venus. Ehh…I beg to differ. First of all, the Battle of the Sexes hardly warrants an intergalactic metaphor to signify its importance. We know it's important because most of us have to interact with members of the opposite sex every day. And second, if our "Star Wars" are so vast that they involve other heavenly bodies of the solar system, why are they being fought on a dinky little planet on earth? I mean, seriously, doesn’t our planet kind of suck?
But I digress.
The point I'm trying to make is that I think the Mars/Venus metaphor is pretty stupid.
Unnecessary. The human animal's silly attempts at making themselves seem more important in the grand scheme of life. Then again, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I should give the book another chance and try to read it through again with less contempt. Maybe it's because people subscribed to the theories within so quickly (without thinking) that I have shunned it. Maybe it's because I believe that the answers to so many of life's questions are simple ones that you can figure out on your own. They may have different answers for everyone, but what's important is what the answers are for you. What's the meaning of life? Try it on for size, it shouldn't hurt your brain; it's a lot easier to answer than you think. The biggest question in this world, for me anyway, is why we have so many politicians, mathematicians, scientists, physicists, rocket scientists, psychologists, psychics, herbalists, televangelists, telemarketers, talking heads, zealots, and Jehovah's Witnesses trying to convince us that life IS so complicated.
I guess the answer to that is that the question "why" can drive a lot of people over the deep end. But again, I digress.
The conflict of the sexes lies in the heart of the contact between our two species. Relationships. Biology and MTV have both stated that men and women want two different things, no matter what they may be. You want to screw everyone, she wants you to screw just her. She wants Pepsi but you fancy a coke. Sometimes life is just like that, people! I'm talking about agendas, of course. Everyone's got one, and contrary to the boob tube's insistence, they are not as cut and dry as they appear to be. Not all males want to get in someone else's pants and not all females wanna sit home and nest. At my age, in fact, I am finding more and more that the latter truly a rarity. Especially when most college age girls seem to find themselves afflicted with "College is a male buffet" syndrome.
In college, commitment is a relative term and a lot of girls refuse to touch it with a ten foot pole. They want to have fun, experiment, make the wrong decisions, screw around, get drunk and bury their sheltered backgrounds. I know, I know, it sounds like I'm talking about guys, but we as a people need to WAKE UP! Girls are the new "Guys" whether we like it or not, if for no other reason than they are finally realizing the power within their feminine wiles and charms. And while I say more power to them in a self actualizing sort of way, this leaves a lot of us guys, pretty screwed.
Most people who read my essays know who I write them to. The "Holden Caulfields", "Lloyd Doblers", "Rob Gordons" and "Luke Skywalkers" out there struggling to make sense of life in general and members of the opposite sex while trying to control their obsessions with various things found within our Pop Culture. It's because I'm one of them, of course. And just because I advertise that the answers to life are often simple, that doesn't mean that I came to this conclusion without much thought and banging of my head against the wall. With that that said, I'm not ashamed to say that developed quite a headache recently trying to figure out why I hadn't had a date in over 9 months.
Here's the easy answer: Because I got rejected all the time. But with that answer came the inevitable question. Why?
The best thing to do during this period of stagnation was to take each blow to my ego as a learning experience, research, so not only would it hurt less, but in my mind it would seem like I was less of a loser. I spent months debating and thinking about every "no", every "I just don't think of you that way," every "yeah we can go out…but this isn't a date," every piece leading to another section of the puzzle. The answer was always on the tip of my tongue, like a simple word you can never guess on Wheel of Fortune with the mental head slap that follows upon the revelation of the answer. My type scale for women came to me during a moment of clarity that I have been living in ever since its invention and adoption to my way of life. In the type scale I finally found my reason why.
Everyone has their own unique qualities, feelings and ideas. The type scale merely lets you know what a girl is like when she is in a relationship. It WILL NOT give you a greater insight into women. It WILL NOT tell what kind of "person" that she is. In fact, the type scale is really a warning system for guys to know what kind of questions to ask a girl, so that you don't end up involving yourself with the types you are NOT looking for. Like I said, the answers in life are simple. The reason why girls were rejecting me: because I was asking the wrong types. There was never a definite warning, just a feeling ignored usually because the girl was a good person, despite a certain lenience on the rules of Dating and Relationship etiquette. Women are complex creatures but I wanted to make the types simple, so, easily enough, there are four basics: Types 0-3. And they are as follows:
Type 0: I gave it that dubbing since it deals with the most basic function of creation. Sex. Which translates into: slut. A girl is a type 0 if she sleeps around, doesn't care, doesn't want a relationship. They're not hard to spot.
Type 1: The non serious dater/relationship person. These girls always have one foot out the door. They can have boyfriends, have physical and emotional relationships but they're always temporary. Girls who say "Yeah, I was dating him, but I got bored with him and dumped him." or, "I found someone else." Those are type 1's. They're not bad, all in all, just don't get attached if you date one. However, they have the greatest potential to turn into type 3's.
Type 2: The worst type. Don't even attempt to deal with the bullshit cause it ain't worth it. These girls have, what I like to call "Hold-me-but-don't-touch-me-syndrome." Almost the same thing as type 1, only NO PHYSICAL OR REAL EMOTIONAL RELATIONSHIPS OF ANY KIND. This is the kind of "friendship" that will continually cross the line and you wonder whether or not you're dating or just really good friends or whether she really likes you but is afraid of--fuck all of that. She's a type two and has you in a "friendship with probable financial benefits" relationship. Avoid at all costs and abandon ship if you ever see one coming. If you ever hear a girl say, "Yeah, we were going out, but I never told him we were "dating" and he said I was leading him on." She's a type 2. They have a whole different language of bullshit that you have to sift through to find the true meanings of what they say. Trust me, you've heard it before and it's the same shitty line.
Type 3/3A: The one you dream about. These girls are motivated, sophisticated, domesticated, and mature enough to have a decent committed relationship. They know what they want and go after it. These are the ones we never get to date (at our age), but want. They usually don't play games outside of the normal spectrum of female bullshit and they're usually pretty down to earth. However, they are not to be confused with 3A's. These girls NEED relationships and are either psychotic or extremely emotional or whiny without em. Don't date those.
Then there are the two alternate types: 4 and 5.
1. Type 4: Lesbians.
2. Type 5: Bisexuals.
They are more than just a sexual preference my friends, they're a state of mind.
Here comes somethin a little weird:
Not all girls fit into the exact little round holes that the types fill. People are unpredictable, they moonlight, change types, that sort of thing. For instance, when a girl goes through a messy break-up (minus 1), she usually reverts back to a type 2. After a while she might subtract her baggage from the break-up (minus another) and becomes a type 1. She then might add maturity and the want of commitment (plus 2) and become a type 3 again. It moves in stages you see, and not everyone is a set type all the time, although a lot of girls usually are the same basic type most of the time. At my age, most girls are 1's and 2's and sometimes 0's, but usually not type 3's. I only know a hand full of those and they're all taken.
The point is girls are still human beings and while simple, can be a bit more complicated than the definitions of the basic types. So, I invented Mixed Types, that look a bit like the Dewey decimal system, however, they are based within the range of the basic type system. Let me explain:
My friend Chelsea is a type 1. She was dating a guy in an open relationship while she's at college because she has a problem keeping her vagina to herself. This makes her a bit of a slut, but because she was also in a relationship, she becomes a Type 1.0.
Make sense? It gets better.
When I informed her of the two alternate types (4 and 5) she revealed to me (as I was unaware) that she was, in fact, bi-sexual, making her a type 5. But since she is also a slut and in a non serious relationship that makes her a type 5.01.
This next one will make you flip.
Type 2 is the worst type, right?
But like I said everything is not always in black and white. My friend Elle is an All-American, church going, girl-next-door type that is going to college at St. Mary's. She never dated in high school and now that she's in college, nothing has changed. She's nearly a poster child for type 2: too many issues, not enough trust in men, no experience, doesn't know if she wants a boyfriend, susceptible to the Tao of Steve methods, crushes on assholes and has panic attacks.
However, due to her parents being out of the picture at college she has succumbed to peer pressure and has begun to drink and subsequently hook up with guys. Not sex...but kissing and making out (any activity always occurs above the waist). She still won't date, but will drink and hook-up and the like. This is in definite conflict with type two behavior, but at the same time, it isn't. Slutty, but still sheltered, This is a type 2.0. And a particularly dangerous type to watch out for.
Girls that are in relationships but participate in sexual activities like threesomes are 3.0's. Heterosexual girls who have committed relationships but tease girls are type 3.2's. The most golden type you could find would have to be a type 5.3, but you'd have to be as lucky as Hugh Hefner to find one.
Do you get it now? It's pretty easy to adapt. A girl I met over the Internet (who's bisexual) recently revealed to me that when she broke up with her boyfriend because he said "I love you" (type 1), she went out with a friend of hers to a strip bar (where girls dance). She made out with a buncha strippers but didn't act on any of it, even though she could've (type 2).
Add it all up....if you got type 5.12 then you'd be correct.
I hope you've either gotten the hang of this, or at least gotten a laugh out of it. It's all pretty adaptable, you just have to be sensible. Think. You cannot have something like a 0.1 because that's nearly impossible and anything doubled like a 2.2 or 3.3 are redundant. With enough practice, it'll come in time. But who says you want it to? Most people very much agree with me, but some people think I'm a nut or a joke…but so far it's worked for me. It never fails and I've never met a girl I couldn't type, so there ya go. Make of this what you will, but I hope you (meaning us guys) will make use of the type scale. It WILL help you make better decisions in the long run in terms of your dealings females. Think of it as an early warning system. If you know a girl is a type 2, you're probably be less likely to make a mistake and try to cross a line she'll never let you cross in the long run, even though, short term, she seems like she's into it. It's up to you and it can work. Maybe if we all work together, we can force a change on their part and finally restore peace and order to the galaxy…
The force will be with us…
At least, I hope so.
I came across this while wandering through LiveJournal the other day:
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What do you ladies think?
I am a member of a women's fraternity.
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No, it is not a sorority.
A fraternity is created to exist solely in and of itself, in order to serve and benefit others. Our philanthropy is breast cancer awareness and research.
With this in mind, consider the following.
Our fraternity has 40 members. Many of these members are experiencing a sense of neglect or unconcern when it comes to other members in the group. There are cliques. When choosing what other Greek organizations we shall donate time/gifts/etc, no group decision is made - it is based largely on who is dating whom. Many members are going through rough times in their familiy/academic/whatever lives, and yet there is no sense of concern from other sisters - in fact, many sisters have long ceased to even ask that time-tested conversation-filler, "How are you?" When they do ask, they rarely - if ever - mean it. Knowing the ideals my fraternity is supposed to strive for, I am disappointed in the group's singular lack of concern for these ideals.
Thus, spurred by my own distaste for what my beloved fraternity is becoming, and numerous complaints from other sisters, I arranged for a special meeting, required of all sisters to attend. Less than half actually showed. I said my piece and opened the floor for discussion. I was crucified forthwith.
From there, the entire conversation lapsed into alternately expressing incredulity at my sentiments and telling each other how wonderful they think everyone in the group is. Threatened by my honesty and no-bullshit attitude, they lapsed into affirmations made at the cost of truth.
I hate this.
(Warning: Generalizations will follow! Be not alarmed!) When men disagree, they are open about it. Sometimes, they'll even yell and/or scream at one another about it. But when women disagree, they run for cover. We must not wound anyone's feelings - unless, of course, the rest of the group is also casting stones, in which case it is perfectly acceptable.
Comments, questions, concerns? I'd appreciate feedback.
And as Happy Noodle Boy would say... "Moo."
Here's a link to a set of pictures that Initially inspired this rant.
Now, I shall continue.
Trends. Consumer driven mind control. The idea that this is popular, so everyone HAS to do it. Fuck you. You know, who fucking cares what clothes people say are in style, it's about what you do that makes you... well... you.
Noticable trend seekers are people like Ryan, who, despite our rules of not standing near the circle unless you are playing, screams "I CAN'T KICK IN A SKIRT!" when the sack is passed to her. That annoyed me. If a piece of clothing isn't functional, why fucking wear it? Yes, the pleated miniskirt thing is hot, i will be first to admit that, however, when she breaks up a damn good hack because she can't "Kick in a sack", she needs to make better choices between style and substance. Also, this fucking girl in my geometry class. We leave for second period career center together, and she always gets to her locker before i get to mine because it takes me a little longer to get out of class, usually. Two days ago, I passed her at her locker, squatting, and her low rise jeans had slipped down to fully expose what most have been the most uncomfortable thong i have ever seen. I wanted to laugh at her. She had the funniest look on her face while she was hurriedly digging through her locker. It's soo cool to be goth, yo. It's sooo cool to be punk, yo. It's sooo cool to be a ho, yo.
FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!!!
It's only cool to be who you are, not what you think you're supposed to be.
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I'm pretty damn hard core! Fear me!
This bothers me for some reason
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I'm getting there. I don't suck, but I've got a ways to go.
Actually, sixty percent is far too much. I prefer something like thirty. Because I'm for equality and not feminism and all that racket.
Yeah, so the community's dead. It wasn't intended for everyday use, anyway. ::mutters:: CONTRIBUTE BEFORE I DIE!
I was sitting around reading through random things in Google when a thought occured to me: What is it, exactly, that makes feminism *militant or otherwise* more acceptable than chauvinism *militant or otherwise*? Thinking about it I figured that it was probably the whole thousands of years of female oppression, that sort of thing.
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But really, in that case, what makes using that as an excuse more acceptable than saying that I, as a white American, sold black Africans into slavery?
I mean, I had nothing to do with the latter event, and today's males had nothing to do with the former event. Of course in both cases, there are exceptions; There's the KKK and then there's men who still think it's the 17th century. But I am not in the KKK and none of the males I know think it's the 17th century in relation to female politics. So I see no logical reason for them to be punished or socio-politically condemned, just as I see no reason for "white" people to be ostracized as a race for the actions of the past, or of the actions of a few.
Just me rambling. You should probably ignore me.
I like women but I think the feminist movement has gone far enough. I don't think it's fair that I should have to secondguess everything I say or do just to make sure it doesn't hurt some poor little woman's feelings. If they can't take the real world, they should be back in the kitchen.
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I am impressed with the women in this community, because they respect that women aren't perfect, either, and the feminist movement is making it increasingly difficult for a man in this society to know what it is politically correct to say and do.
There's a virus being e-mailed to lj users. It looks like this:
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Dear LiveJournal user,
We have recently noticed that you haven't updated your LiveJournal in
awhile. If you would like to keep your LiveJournal account, you must sign in
within the next 24 hours.
You may sign in at: [link removed]
Failure to sign in within the next 24 hours will result in account termination.
Don't open the link - it's a virus.
Please, post this in your personal journal and in your communities, even if it's off-topic for the community.
I used to think that it was only in relationships that I'd get blindsided by something I had said 3 months ago and forgotten. Of course if you come to know me, I forget things I did a couple of hours ago, hell if I'm going to remember something that happened even a week ago.
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Anyway. There was a good bit of crap going down in my department at work (I say my as though I am the boss, I'm the lackey..). Anyway, I had been informed a few months ago that my discussions about the cost of apartments in this half-horse town were becoming irritating to my co-workers, so I stopped. Well, called into the bosses office and had to listen to two of the girlie-women-things complain about some screwups that had occured. Guess what, for no freakin reason, got brought up? If you guessed the apartment thing, you are the grand prize wiener and can go collect your bun and condiments at the nearest fast-food restaurant. UGH! Both of the directors are catty bitches who love to play the whole "I can say what I want cause I'm a woman and you have to shut up and listen to it cause you're a guy" game.
Oh, to make things more interesting, my latest ex informed my sister (with whom she was good friends) that she would talk to me "when she felt like it" about the reasons I broke it off with her. I can't remember the reasons now!!! You would think that after dating me for a year and a half she'd know that. Oh well, she was a victorian-mouse kind of woman, I remember that much.
Anyway, enough of my babble..
My name is Stephanie and I live in a house with five guys. (sounds like a new spin on The Real World...eh.)
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I am a woman. I am feminine and over-emotional and I have a vase of daisies on my window. I like girl-on-top just as much as I like him making the first move. I shave and i never saw the point in the whole "bra burning" trend.
I do not like women who are catty or clingy or bitchy. I do not like overly-feminist women who are in drastic need of a little deep-dicking (gratuitous Kevin Smith reference). I detest drama-queens. And I HATE women who play games.
My roommate from my freshman year in college soon became my best friend. One day after a little tift, she up and told me that "I wasn't the right person for her, and that our friendship was over."...baffled, i looked at her and said, "If we were in a relationship this whole time, why wasn't I getting sex?". These are the kind of women I do not like.
I know we have all covered this at one point or another, however, I feel it is somethign i must bring up.
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First point-The people who hate their bodies- Why? What possible reason could you have to feel agony over the fact that you have some flubb on your butt? Huh? It seems to me that a lot of these people are actually pretty inb their own way, however, will never see it as they are to busy putting themselves down. I say, be happy with who and what you are. I'm a fatass, it sucks, but I can deal with it. It's sad listening to someone who is really pretty complain about a flaw that only they see.
second point- So what if he hits me? I know he loves me, and that's all I need- When, and where the fuck did it become alright for someone to abuse someone else in a relationship? And what the fuck is going on with these people who stay in them while they are being abused?! The ideal of "They love me, so it must be ok" Is so fucking stupid, I can't even put it into proper words. An abusive significant other is using you as an out for hostility. Wake the fuck up, realize the horrible fucking truth, realize that maybe, just maybe this asshole is using you for their own sick, twisted amusment, and get the hell out of dodge. Once you leave them, thencease all contact. This person is crazy, and you are a fool if you continue to be in their presence.
I had more to say, but i kind of lost it. so, thsi will be it for now.
I was working at the station tonight, minding my own business. I walked back to the control room to deliver some scripts and was asked the question. "What are some of the signs that a woman is gay?"
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Everything they listed just seemed so trite and stereotyped. "short hair, nose ring, baggy clothes, manliness,"
Then they started in on signs of a gay man. The one that got me was that if a guy shows no interest in a woman that's "coming on to him" and he doesn't have a girlfriend, then he's gay.
I think that, other than being a bunch of dimwits anyway, these gals are just falling prey to societal stereotypes. What do y'all think?
I can hear the crickets chirping in here. What happened?
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The girl is what she decided to be. She chose to be the weak attachment to my arm. She snivelled and cried whenever things did not go her way, but if they did not go mine, that was okay. I saw things clearly now, my heart was in a box with her other collections of things to be remembered. She remembered it when it suited her, when things needed a shot of excitement or money. She dropped my heart many times, it was covered in chips and dents. Little things, like telling me to grow up when I was just having a good time. Big things, like slapping me just because I made her angry. Then there were the gouges, those things that hurt deeper than anything else. The disregard for the sacrific needed to make something happen. Oh tears had been shed, and talks had been made, but they seemed to do little.
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Too many times those dents and chips and gouges had gone unattended to. Many of them were now festering, like an infected cut. Most of them had band-aids put over them long ago, they had been talked about, argued about. The band-aids were never changed and the tender, loving care needed for the wounds to heal was rarely if ever present. I watched as my heart became numb to the damage.
I lay now still. Not by my own choice, but by the choice of circumstance.
When it ended, when she had to give the box back, she made it seem like all the errors were of my fault. Perhaps they were, but some blame had to be shared. I didn't want to do it, but I had to be true to who I was, but oh did she make it hard. The look in those eyes was enough to destroy the will of many a man. I heard it crack. I heard her heart rend apart within the lock-box that I kept it in. Padded in velvet to keep it safe. Oh sure I had dropped it a couple of times, but I always did my best to heal it. Perhaps I failed more than I thought, but I tried.
Now I lay here, I can't move. My thoughts are becoming cloudy, the drugs are taking effect.
No one is smiling, this is not a happy event, but a mornful one. My sister is looking down at me. She looks so sad. My friends are there too. Why am I here? Why am I cold? This hard table under my body sends chills throughout me.
A man walks in, dressed in white. He's carrying a box. He shakes his head slowly, as though he knows exactly how I feel. Does he really? I can watch as he splits my chest open. I cringe. I don't like the sight of blood, I don't want to get sick.
There is no blood. I look, fascinated by the gruesomeness of it all. He points. I have no heart! He opens the box and produces my old heart, but is it really my heart? There are no festering wounds, no old band-aids. But yes, I see the scars, the wounds that will forever be upon it. He sets it in the empty place in my chest and it begins to beat. He closes up my chest.
I can feel warmth again. My sister is smiling, crying even. Movement returns to my limbs, life to my mind. I can sit up and look around the room. I look to my "doctor" and ask his name.
He says in a smooth, calming voice, "I am the alpha and omega, the great physician, the giver of life, the beginning and the end."
Or maybe I just thought he said that, maybe it was all a dream. But one thing is for sure, my heart is scarred and will be forevermore.
Hope you enjoyed that. Just felt like sharing it.