Is it true? Do we funnel all of our creative energies into our blogs that we don’t create the real art we want to create? Are we using it up in platforms such as these, crutches supporting what creativity we have, that there is none left when we go to create The Work? We can’t all be Neil Gaiman, unfortunately.
Look! Even Lumbergh gets it! The only thing worse than getting your period is not getting your period. The only thing worse than not getting your period is not getting it after you’ve had intercourse and there might be a fertilized egg clinging to the uterine wall that is supposed to be being shed.
Thank god I’m experiencing the former and not the latter. But it’s still fucking annoying to have a constant rage monster in your abdominal region and zero fucking results. Amanda Palmer wrote a song about this once. Ok, technically the song is about New Zealand, but it’s really
not so secretly about not getting your period when you’re meant to be having your period. Or, worse, you’re meant to be over and done with your period already and it still hasn’t fucking come.
Here, enjoy Amanda. She’s fucking delightful. Unlike not getting your period.
Oh, and there’s the whole thing where I’m writing a two-woman play about menstruation and suddenly I’m stricken with being late. What the ever loving hell?
UPDATE: Yes, already. My body was just waiting for this public post about menstruation to go up and BAM! bleeding.
While I was working on this lil’ guy, I listened to George Michael’s album Faith. Dude! Date rapey, much? Seriously, George Michael! “Faith” is the best song on the album. All of the rest of them are either “do you love me or him?” or “I want to fuck you”. None of them are anywhere near as fun as “Faith” either. “Faith” has a great beat to it, makes you want to get up and dance.
I think Red Sox Robot is a little appalled by the album. Look at his eyes, poor fellow!
And, yeah, the perspective on the hat is skewed, I know.
UPDATE: I’ve listened to “Faith” about seven times in a row now, and I fucking love that song. I’m adopting it as my song for the foreseeable future.
Someone gave my niece a Lego Friends kit for Valentine’s Day. Lego Friends, for those of you who don’t know, is the “girl” line from Lego. The Lego people are all girls and the kits are all geared toward “girls’ interests”. Now, I, personally, have never had any desire to climb up onto a large quadruped or build a hotel, but Lego must know what they’re doing, right?
The kits aren’t really any different from the rest of Lego’s kits. Buildings, cars, boats, etc.
There’s really nothing offensive about Lego Friends, not in actuality. The line actually opens up options for people inclined to build Lego kits. Friends provides builders with swimming pools, horse stables, hair salons, and veterinarian offices. After all, not everyone wants to build Police stations, Fire stations, speedboats, and construction sites. Lego Friends works to reach a certain demographic heretofore not included by the toymakers.
A little personal history: I didn’t know Lego made kits until I was about ten years old. I knew Legos, I played with them often. We had a Tupperware container (a large one meant for cakes) filled with bricks and five or six Lego people in various states of disarray. I built all sorts of things throughout my childhood, both with my sisters and alone. Our Lego people were a little sad; some were missing hands, some of them had their faces rubbed off, one was even missing an entire leg. All of their hats were broken, the ones we still had. They were the 1980s Space Adventure Guys, the one The Lego Movie portrayed as an excitable fool. The space ship building kits were long since incorporated into the general Lego brick collection, their instructions lost to the annuls of familial history. Sometimes we still built flying machines with the wing pieces, but never once in my memory did I see the pieces assembled as intended in the kit.
Mostly my sisters and I built houses.
Really. We had a large, green baseplate that we would line with multicolored one by whatever sized pieces, We’d make doorways and section off rooms to create bedrooms, kitchens, and living rooms. Red slanty pieces and flat four by eight pieces became beds, sometimes bunk beds. Often there was a room that was built up with two by four and two by two rectangle and square bricks, the bed would pull up revealing a hole underneath it for storing treasure and secrets. Once we’d built the houses, we’d play with them. The Lego Space People being boys or girls as needed, doing whatever whimsy popped into our childish minds. (We did the same things with our blocks.)
By the time I realized Legos sometimes came in kits with instructions to make specific things, I was already phasing out of Legos (which, unfortunately weren’t replaced by robotics kits or other more sophisticated building toys). I was in middle school, and it was dawning on me: other kids had Lego sets. What a concept! Youngest kid, it never occurred to me to ask for more Legos. As far as I was concerned we had exactly the right amount as I was always able to make whatever I thought up.
Fast forward twenty years, my nieces and nephews are discovering the world of Legos. My six year old niece is happy to sit in her play area and build tall Lego cars complete with bathrooms, but she will also, Emmet-style, flip through the instructions and build exact replicas of what Lego intended those 250 pieces to make. Both are admirable and I commend my small friend for her ability to do both open-ended play and structured play (is that the right term?).
That being said, I think Lego Friends is stupid.
Reason 1: It’s specifically marketed toward girls. I’ve already mentioned I was never a horse girl. In fact, I only knew of two girls growing up who had a deep interest in riding horses. Two out of the dozens of girls I knew from school, church, Girl Scouts, and summer camp. It’s possible some of the others were interested, but their families were too poor to support such an activity (we were a mixed community, socio-economically speaking). But only two girls in my memory took horseback riding lessons and/or rode regularly. Neither was I all that interested in Princesses or shopping or malls or hair salons or horse shows (there’s a lot of horse related Lego Friends stuff). I wasn’t that kind of Girl, and I’m no original: there must be plenty of girls turned off of Lego because of what Lego is telling them their interests should be.
And what about the boys? The boys who would love a Lego hair salon set, but feel like they aren’t “supposed to” want the hair salon Lego set because it’s a girls toy and therefore “unmanly”? Because it’s one thing for a girl to want to build the Lego Millennium Falcon (who doesn’t want to build the Lego Millennium Falcon?), but for a boy to want pink riding stables would be a bit…. queer.
Reason 2 (somewhat related to Reason 1): Pink, pink, pink, pink, pink! I like pink. I did not like pink when I was nine years old. I put up with it… because I was a girl… but I preferred purple: the color of royalty (yeah, I was that girl*). When I was Lego building age, marketing things in pink would have made me wrinkle my little nose and heave the sigh of a thirty year old spinster who’s seen it all. My cousin’s daughter, a charming young woman, began her pink-hate at the tender age of three. My lovely, well-meaning mother gave the child a casual pink summer dress for her birthday that year. The kid took one look at it, wrinkled her little nose, and dropped it on the ground. This pink marketing crap is equally lost on her. A boy one of my sisters used to babysit, however, loved him some pink. In fact, his most treasured toy was a Barbie hair styling head. Had the Lego Friends line been a thing when he was little, he might have been attracted to their bright colors and “fun” things to build.
Reason 3, and probably the biggest peeve: No crossover. Or limited crossover, at least. I’ll start here: I don’t think Lego Friends is an entirely evil concept. As already stated, I think the Friends line fills a gap previously unfilled. The kids who don’t want to build Lego emergency vehicles, and space ships need something to build too. And if a child is interested in Horse Shows and building Legos, then why shouldn’t he or she have a Lego Horse Show kit? And if a kid needs their doll to come with a name and a vague backstory, why not have them come with names and have families and all that? (Instead of, say, encouraging the child to make up their own — ok, maybe I’m not as cool with that aspect…) Some kids need a larger story in order to have effective play (some big kids need that too ;).
But why do the Friends characters stand head and shoulders over the regular Lego people?
These two are the epitome of a middle school dance! One of his friends asked her to dance with him, she says sure, then proceeds to awkwardly pretend she’s about to make small talk while she stares over his head, and he pretends he’s about to make small talk while awkwardly stares as her developing breasts.
Why aren’t these characters the same size and shape? There isn’t a chance the Friends character will fit in the Regular character’s spaceship, or airplane, or Batmobile. She’ll have to sit awkwardly half out and the kid will probably spend most of the play session putting her back into the vehicle while she tries to swoop in and blast the oppressive Storm Trooper out of the sky and off the Rebel’s tail! Making the Friends characters entirely different from the standard Lego person further removes the Friends line from the rest of Lego. And, really, aren’t the two already segregated enough?
Why is the Lego Friends line only marketed to girls? And why is acceptable for girls to have the other Lego kits, but “wrong” for a boy to have one of the Friends kits? Why even make a distinction like that? A Lego ad from the mid 80s has been getting a lot of attention lately, you know the one: adorable redhaired kid with her Legos and the tagline: What it is is beautiful.
Is that girl ever upset with the current marketing trends Lego has fallen into? She’s so annoyed, grown person and practicing doctor, Rachel Giordano participated in this comparison advertisement:
Giordano’s ad was, in fact, one of many Lego produced in the 80s. The others were equally neutral and non-gendered. They even provided encouragement to build whatever the fuck you want to build. Mazel Tov, children! Build away!
What happened Lego?
Eventually, in the lives of the individual toys, none of this will matter. Eventual the parental person will become sick of all the kits winding up loose and underfoot (little bastard pieces hide out in the carpet fibers just waiting for the unsuspecting barefoot adult to come ambling along, plotting little plastic fuckers…) and will toss all the Lego pieces into one bin (“There! Doesn’t that make everything easier?”) the Friends line pieces and the Regular Lego pieces become homogenized in the large Tupperware cake bin. The youngest kid, unaware of “sets” and “kits”, will build houses and cars and spaceships that fit the people characters no matter their size and they’ll put the Friends hair on the Regular Lego person and the Regular Lego Person hat on the Friends character, never thinking there’s anything wrong about it until they’re thirty and they ask themselves: Yeah? Why is the Friends Character a Lego-Foot taller than the other Lego People? What the fuck, Lego?
*If you do not know what sort of girl I mean, it’s this: I was the girl who didn’t want to be a Princess, I wanted to be a Queen. It was my understanding of the hierarchy that princesses would maybe one day be queens, if they married the right prince, but most likely they’d remain just a princess with few duties but to look pretty and sing or weave tapestries or some shit. But Queens, them bitches could make decisions and effect change. Queens had power. Why be a useless princess, I thought, when I could be a Queen.
I sympathize with this woman: thirty six years old she’s told she’s got a form of cancer typically associated with older people; and she learns that not only it is prevalent in younger adults, it’s completely treatable if caught early. But Insurance companies won’t cover testing for patients under fifty.
Insurance companies are assholes.
Cancer is so often thought of as being “caused by” something or other: genetics, smoking cigarettes, someone else smoking cigarettes, occupational or regional causes, toxins in the drinking water, something gives you cancer. And since we’ve polluted our planet fairly well it’s more and more likely that more people in the developed world will have cancer at some point.
Predicting at what age we will develop cancer is bullocks. As highlighted in John Green’s novel The Fault in our Stars, children, pretty young children, can have cancer. [Here be Spoilers] In the novel, Hazel Grace is expected to kick it soon and she’s angrily preparing for it. It is her boyfriend, who appears to be in a healthy remissions, it turns out, is the terminal one. Because Cancer is a fickle bitch.
Insurance companies won’t screen for certain cancers until clients have reached forty of fifty. Others they’re happy to screen for, but only every few years. No one expects a healthy 29 year old to have breast cancer, so we don’t check for it. It’s a little like saying, well, the Aztecs didn’t expect the Spanish so they weren’t prepared for them.
Cancer, an aberration in our bodies, doesn’t really care how old we are.
As someone who doesn’t have health insurance, I sometimes worry I’ve got something brewing, like Dawn Eicher in the colon cancer story, that hasn’t affected me, therefore I have not noticed. I work in the outdoors. I don’t always wear a hat or sunscreen; I have moles that like to act up. I’ve probably got skin cancer and I don’t know it. If I had Health Insurance (and went to my doctor regularly) we might know one way or the other, we’d be looking for it. We might know which moles are cancerous and which are fucking with me.
Eicher has a valid point: if her insurance would have paid for a colon cancer test for people under fifty then maybe they would have tested her and caught it sooner and she, and people like her, could take preventative measures thus ensuring they wouldn’t have to go through the processes unnecessarily. If Health Insurance was guaranteed for all American citizens the same would be true.
The poor, unemployed, underemployed, and homeless need Health Insurance just as much as relatively healthy, white, blonde, middle class soccer moms. So sign her petition, but know that’s not the end of the problem. If more people had better access to doctors, hospitals, and medicine many conditions could be prevented.
I know Universal Health Care has it’s drawbacks, but those are drawbacks I can live with.
(Before you cry “Obamacare!” it’s not good enough, not yet.)
Yes they will!
His cannon of work doesn’t cease to exist now that he’s gone. It just means he won’t be making new things. Be sad and nostalgic, mourn and grieve for a man you’ve never met, but don’t say shit like this.
If anything, the love you have for his work might be augmented, but that doesn’t change anything about the work itself, or, really, your perception of it.
Like every other unemployed day, I started today by reading my email, checking Facebook and Twitter; followed links to interesting articles and read pleasantly whilst sipping my coffee. I was reading this lovely piece from The Atlantic about Accordions in America, and remembering when my local mom-and-pop music store proprietor told me he sells on average one accordion a year, when I came to the following sentence:
“And over the last three years, “we’re almost selling more accordions then we’re making,” Petosa said.”
“Then”. He said. “…more accordions then we’re making.” he said. “Then“.
Now, either he actually said “then”, which makes me sad for him. Or the person who wrote the piece wrote the word “then” by accident, which makes me sad for The Atlantic.
In college, I was one of those pretentious English Majors who cringes at the incorrect use of certain, commonly incorrectly used, words and phrases. We are the sort of people who go on to become lawyers, editors, writers, and teachers. We make (read: amazing) pretentious mugs and tee shirts.
We do not cringe because we are assholes (we’re actually, usually, very nice people; although, be wary of the ones who became lawyers); we cringe because it’s wrong. And not in the we-standardized-language-so-get-with-the-program sort of way, but because each of these words have a very precise meaning and they’re being used incorrectly. “Then” is an adverb, sometimes an adjective, often a noun.
Then adv. 1. at that time; 2. soon afterward; next in time; 3. next in order; 4. in that case; therefore; accordingly: used with conjunctive force; 5. besides; moreover; 6. at that time or at other times. Adj. of that time; being such at that time. Noun. that time.
“Than” is a conjunction. Since we all remember ‘SchoolHouse Rock’:
we know, therefore, that the word ‘than’ is used to link together two parts of the sentence.
Than conj. 1. introducing the second element in a comparison, following an adjective or adverb in the comparative degree; 2. expressing exception, following an adjective or adverb; 3. when: used used esp. after inverted construction introduced by scarcely, hardly, barely, etc
The correct word is, in fact, ‘than’; the sentence: “And over the last three years, “we’re almost selling more accordions then we’re making,” Petosa said” is a comparison. The making of the instruments versus the selling of the instruments. The act of comparing dictates that the word used be ‘than’.
Petosa probably did say “then”. It’s a common mistake, heard often throughout the English speaking world, just like ‘literally’ instead of ‘figuratively’, ‘irregardless’ instead of ‘regardless’, or, my personal pet peeve, ‘supposably’ instead of ‘supposedly’. While it is common practice, we don’t cringe solely because it is grammatically and definitively wrong, we cringe also because it’s ugly. ‘Than’ sounds nicer than ‘then’. And, is this not what grammar is all about?