Archive for April, 2009

Past, present, future meme

NS April 16th, 2009

From Jessica at This is Worthwhile, a meme that encompasses the past, present and future.

15 years ago today I would have been:

  • 14 and a freshman in high school, taking drama, speech, health, history, algebra, advanced English and biology (among others)
  • Writing poetry, some good but mostly bad, in my bedroom
  • Listening to Tori Amos, Matthew Sweet, Nirvana, Frente and Pearl Jam
  • Trying to figure out boys

    • 10 years ago today I would have been:

  • A sophomore at university studying journalism
  • Almost certainly drunk or stoned
  • Enduring a long distance relationship with The Noble Husband

    • 5 years ago today I would have been:

  • Finishing up my degree in journalism after a two year hiatus in London and then a return to university
  • Working my ass off as a waitress in a brewery/restaurant
  • Planning the last details of mine and TNH’s second wedding/renewal ceremony

    • 1 year ago today I would have been:

  • Already missing my parents, who came to London for a two-week visit in early April
  • Mother to a just-turned-two-year-old and three months pregnant with my son
  • Researching and planning for my homebirth
  • Very broke

    • This year I am:

  • Giving writing a serious, earnest go — blogging more, pitching articles, working on a book and whatever else I can do to carve out a career
  • Determined to finally buy a good digital camera and start taking photography more seriously
  • Hopefully taking on more editing and producing work in my current work-at-home job
  • Going to the States for 3 weeks in June and July and looking forward to it immensely
  • Working towards making my marriage stronger than ever
  • Saving up the funds I need to obtain British citizenship (y’all convinced me!)

    • Today I:

  • Was incredibly lazy and allowed myself to be so without any (okay, much) guilt
  • Ate one of my daughter’s chocolate easter bunnies. Ssshh!
  • Told a white lie to avoid talking to someone on the phone
  • Covered both my children in kisses while we jumped and rolled on the bed
  • Pretended to be a robot so that my daughter would let me comb her hair

    • Next year I hope:

  • To have finished writing my book
  • To have maintained my weight as it is now
  • To be eating healthier and working out more
  • To have visited at least two countries I hadn’t been to before
  • To be spending more quality time alone with my husband
  • That my family will be healthy and happy

    • In five years I hope:

  • To be a successful author/journalist/blogger
  • That I will be in a larger house
  • That I am enjoying my 30s immensely
  • That things might be going so well that I could maybe possibly have another baby
  • That my kids are doing well in school
  • That TNH doesn’t have a midlife crisis of some sort when he turns 40
  • That I’m still able to see the good in people, the beauty in words and moments, and hope for the future

    • What have you done and what do you want to be doing?

    The real citizenship test

    NS April 14th, 2009

    Things that stop me from becoming a citizen:

  • I am still on the American side of the fence in the Great Bacon Debate (wherein all Brits claim that American bacon is too fatty and many Yanks such as myself regard British bacon as flaccid and soggy)
  • I don’t get my panties in a bunch when someone discusses their spending habits, purchases, ambitions, career successes or income. Watching Brits snipe at each other for every supposed ‘transgression’ is like watching a really anoying game show called Who Can Best Deride The Middle Class For Being Snobs (While Simultaneously Looking Down On And Being Part Of The Middle Class). I imagine this is part of dealing with post-Empire guilt but it’s gotten quite out of hand, I must say
  • I still find it maddening that not much (apart from pubs) is open past 6pm on any given day; 4pm on Sundays
  • I still don’t know the words to the national anthem. I know most Britons don’t either but it just feels wrong
  • I don’t like custard, HP sauce, Branston pickle, Marmite, fondant icing or Pimms. I believe they call this Treason
  • It costs a huge sum of money! About £700 all in. Yes, £700. Do I really want to spend that on a piece of paper and a red passport and so I can vote in the election, should Gordon Brown ever call one?

    • Things that make me think it would be quite nice to be a UK citizen:

  • I’d be able to say “Ha! Bugger off you wanker, you can’t tell me to “go back where I came from” anymore as I am a mighty citizen.” Not that I’ve needed to say this on many ocassions but seeing as I was spat on once for being American and was questioned at the Bosnian-Croatian border for having the wrong colour passport, it’s not inconceivable that that little red book would come in handy.
  • I could vote, even if I do feel that my vote is being wasted a bit more here because of the party/party leader system. A vote is a voice and I’m tired of being silent
  • I use British slang and swear words naturally now. Nary an ‘awesome’ or ‘neat’ slips out unless I’m talking to another American
  • I could count myself among the Loyal Subjects to the Queen, as I’m always calling my husband and chlidren
  • When I become famous, the British public will be able to call me a “national treasure”
  • I won’t have to try as hard at cooking; everyone will understand if my cuisine suddenly becomes bland (kidding!)
  • I can get sozzled on a daily basis until I die and not a single AA leaflet will be slipped under my door, nor will there be a Family Intervention. If anything, this will only add to my legacy as aforementioned National Treasure

    • So what do you think: get that citizenship or just keep coasting along as a permanent resident? Is the £700 and paperwork worth it?

    Spinster’s Got Talent

    NS April 11th, 2009

    This is shocking, apparently: An unmarried woman in her 40s who fits the stereotype in every way (frumpy, shapeless clothes; wild hair; no makeup; eccentric and assertive behaviour; lives alone; has cats) can….wait for it….HAVE TALENT!

    When an unassuming lady named Susan Boyle walked onto the stage at auditions for tv show Britain’s Got Talent, the judges and audience rolled their eyes and grimaced. This woman couldn’t possibly possess skill at anything other than cat care or lesbianism, surely! They looked at one another knowingly when she reported that she had never married and was 47. When Simon Cowell asked her who she aspired to sing like and she answered “Elaine Page,” everyone sniggered. All three judges were looking around in boredom and bemusement when she began singing “I Dreamed a Dream” from Les Miserables. Within seconds, their faces changed to ones of awe and piety. As Boyles’s voice soared and tears formed in audience members’ eyes, Ant and Dec, the presenters backstage, said “You didn’t expect that, did you?” in absolute shock.

    She was phenomenal, no question. The arrogance of those who judged her made Susan’s success all the sweeter. But why did they judge her talent based on how she looked and her marital status? Are we so shallow as a society that those two things are primary criteria for ascertaining whether or not someone will have talent or the ability to be successful? Ridiculous.

    Twisty rocks the house

    NS April 10th, 2009

    You’ve got to read this. Written in the hilarious and eccentric (and always spot on) style so beloved of dear Twisty at I Blame The Patriarchy, this is blogging at its finest. I always wonder when I read her work: does she talk like this in real life?

    Christ I hope so.

    Breaking news: Man falls over; rape no big deal

    NS April 9th, 2009

    Excuse my language but what the FUCK is wrong with this picture?

    Police at the G20 protest last week hit from behind and then pushed to the ground an unarmed, (what appeared to be) non-aggressive man who later had a heart attack and died. While this is unacceptable behaviour, no matter what the man may have been doing or saying, it has not been established yet if there was a link between the incident and the man’s death. The public, however, are already baying for the police commisioner’s head on a stick and demanding an independent inquiry, the officers involved sacked and possibly even charged with manslaughter.

    Forgive me if this sounds insensitive, but I’m more than a little pissed off at all of this outrage being expressed over a man being pushed down when virtually NONE was expressed over the repeated failures of the police to investigate and link together the dozens, if not hundreds, of sexual assaults and rapes perpetrated by John Worboys, the Black Cab Rapist (finally) convicted last month, despite remarkably telltale signs of a single, serial predator. The gross negligence of duty and care, the indifference shown towards sexual assault victims and the unwillingess of the Met to punish anyone internally for the mistakes and blunders that led to a rapist remaining free to attack for nearly five years is utterly appalling and a telling commentary on how the police (and society as a whole) view rape and its prosecution.

    Yes, this man died after being pushed over by police and that’s horrible and should be investigated thoroughly. I’m not taking away from his family’s suffering or the seriousness of the issues it highlights. But where were those infuriated voices and calls for inquiries when it was discovered how badly the police, the very “Sapphire Units” meant to catch and prosecute sexual predators, handled the Worboys investigation, if they initiated one at all? If not for the one officer who put two and two together after reading the victims’ reports, which were remarkably similar, Worboys would likely still be preying on women in the streets of London today.

    I could’ve been one of those women. Your sister or friend could’ve been one of those women. You could’ve been one of those women. The Worboys case should’ve raised public consciousness of the seriousness of rape and initiated a massive investigation into how we view, handle and prosecute it. Were campaigns launched and did heads roll? No. What we got was more silence, or at best a few admonishments towards women about taking cabs alone and on accepting drinks from strangers, putting the onus back on us – US! – to watch our backs and prevent rape from happening. Let me just get my How Not To Get Raped Checklist in order:

  • Don’t wear revealing clothing unless you want to be accused of false advertising
  • Don’t get drunk or do drugs. That’s an open invitation to be used and abused. Men just can’t help themselves when they see a woman under the influence
  • Don’t chat to or accept drinks from strange men but get called uptight and paranoid if you don’t
  • Don’t walk or take public transport alone, even if there is no alternative
  • Don’t have a sexual history or enjoy sex. This will later be used against you in a court of law
  • Don’t flirt with and kiss a man and then decline to put out. That’s just confusing to them
  • Always physically resist by biting, scratching and hitting your assailant, even if by doing so you risk being beaten or killed. If there is no sign of a struggle, how will the police know you aren’t just crying rape because you regret being a big whore?
  • Always run immediately into the street, crying hysterically and screaming. If you go home and deal with the shock for a couple days before reporting it, you lose all credibility.
  • Be willing to “accept some responsibility” if you are raped while drunk. I mean, what did you expect?

    • It’s so complicated and exhausting, all these rules we have to follow in order to ward off rape. Wouldn’t it be easier if men just followed the only two they need to know?

  • Get active consent before sexual contact and stop when a woman says No
  • Don’t initiate sexual contact with drunk or otherwise incapacitated women

    • Seems pretty simple to me.

    Next week: outrage over people who don’t spay and neuter their pets; nothing about domestic violence.

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