A friend over Fb brought this to our attention, partly because he wasn't entirely sure what she meant by "PIV" (reading it, I gather it means "penis in vagina.)

PIV Is Always Rape, Ok?

I really, really want to respond to this woman. I want to write, "So, when I tie down my man and use his penis to pleasure myself, I'm being raped without realizing it?" No, I'm not a dominatrix, I don't even have a man. But...I just want to know what she'd say. Because this is one of the reasons I truly had radical feminists.

I couldn't even make it all the way through the thing, it's so ludicrous.

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Do not come into a restaurant five minutes before close.

Certainly do not come in two minutes before close and say, "Phew, we just made it!"

And by all means, if the sign says the restaurant closes at a certain time, do not come up fifteen minutes later and, finding the doors locked, wait for one of the last-minute customers to exit so that you can come in to eat.

You're lucky we're open at all on national holidays, even with shortened hours of business. Believe it or not, we'd like to go to a a barbecue with our families, too.

Much Annoyed,

The Restaurant Staff.

(Yeah, I had a rough day today. Especially since my manager seems to think I can somehow survive off $90 a week. Um...yeah, no.)

---

It's the conclusion I came to today, after thinking for a while about an incident at work. But I'll start from the beginning:

There's this hostess who's selfish, lazy-yet-high-strung, bossy...always comes in late, takes twice as long on break as she's allowed. But she's managed to stay just this side of being fired. Our new manager, who is not half as impartial as he tries to be, has been itching to get her on something. So on Saturday, when all the work was done and there were too many girls, she asked him if she could leave. He give a harsh, "No, you may not." Then he takes the schedule, and tells her that obviously two days is too much work for her, and crosses her off next Saturday, and schedules me instead.

When I found out why I'd been scheduled (which, in itself, wasn't a big deal for me), I thought that it was a huge overreaction.

The thing is, he isn't normally that petty about things. When I complained about having my hours cut, he called me to the back to talk; he treats me like a perfectly mature adult, and he acts like one, for the most part. I'm pretty sure that, despite my abruptness of speech and the foot which goes straight to my mouth, I'm one of his favorites. He has a couple, too, including one older woman with severe OCD, but of whom he said, "She's such a sweet woman." I'm glad he likes her, because some of the other managers are unfairly against her.

So in the end, I decided that it's partly his age (he's straight out of college), and partly because I highly that this girl that he lashed out at has ever been an innocent bystander. I think that the automatic reaction to someone acting in a childish, petty way, is to be so yourself. And I think that it's important to stop and tell yourself that you're going to be an adult, even if the other person isn't.

-

In other news, we got some really nasty weather--it snowed, and then it rained. We were heading downtown to see a friend's play, and the freeway lights were out (God bless Detroit), but figured it wouldn't get too bad. WRONG. On the way back, there was a good three inches of snow on the roads, and a twenty minute drive turned into a forty minute one.

The play itself was a re-imagining of Ivanov, in a post-apocalyptic world (a little cliche, yeah), and they went and cut the doctor out (Sasha acts as a messanger for him.) We went in thinking it was going to be terrible, especially since our friend was an emergency stand-in. He got the script two weeks before opening night, and he was the lead. Anyway, it turned out to have potential, but there were these experimental bits in it, and I didn't really understand why they had certain things. In the end, it was a little too artsy-fartsy for me, and if that makes me uncultured, so be it.

At least I liked what they did with Misha. And who played him--they had him playing the piano and everything. That, and they stated Chekhov's Law right before Nikolai grabbed the rifle and shot himself, all of which was actually done in a very clever way.

Other than that, all quiet on the home front.

---

I lost the original, multi-layer, high-def, large size copy of Virgo. How? I accidentally saved the Libra sketch as Virgo. I'm so fucking angry at myself right now.

---

My real life is interfering with me watching the opening ceremony of the Olympics. Call me lame, but I care more about that than any of the actual sports.

So...what to do?

Okay, so admittedly, I could watch it replayed on my computer. But a my teeny netbook screen really isn't much compared to our actual TV. And we've only got the most basic cable, so I can't just record the ceremonies. on a DVR. And I don't want to cancel plans just so I can watch the Olympics.

Maybe I'm just screwed...
---

I left this post un-f-locked, figuring that people could tell that I didn't approve, it wasn't cross-posted, and what the hell, anyone who reads my journal knows me from QAF, Remus/Sirius, or homoerotic mythology anyway.

I got a comment, anyway, criticizing and telling me that there was no gay agenda and it was something you were born with. It wasn't even well-written. Obviously, the person has no sense of context. I figured that, leaving it open, I was asking for it, so I didn't respond or delete the comment.

Still, I'll be more careful about what I friends-lock from now on.

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( It just bothers me...Collapse )


So this is my message: If you see or hear something that bothers you, but has little or no direct bearing on your life or that of others, let it go. You will be happier, and you won't be spreading yucky feelings like anger and hate. And really, if you think it does affect people's perception of you or your community, don't go whining about it, put out [positive] energy to counter or expand the world's view.


Anyway. Happy painting, and God bless.
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I may have mentioned a while ago about DC restarting all their series. I'm not a huge comic book fan, however, I have a fondness for Batman. Mainly because Poison Ivy is like...my role model. Not so much the evil part as the female empowerment; she's probably one of the best effects of the environmental movements/sexual revolution in the sixties.

Anyway, I finally saw pictures of the new Harley Quinn.
( WHY?!Collapse )


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Really, people say that at least having something you want to write is better than not having any ideas at all.

NOT SO!

Knowing what you want and not having it come out is infinitely more frustrating.

I generally tend to get the problem in that I have a bunch of ideas swimming around in my head but no idea how to evens start. So I write, then hate most of what I came up with, even though I like the general idea. Which means that I've had a QAF plotbunny that's been bugging me for ages, and I know enough by now not to ignore it. But there are things I came up with that I like, but have no idea how to start, and dislike a vast majority of what I do.

I posted some of what I had back during an "I'm going to abandon it" period, but it just won't leave me alone.

I've been having the same trouble with some of my original work, too. I'm thinking I should just start writing random scenes, and hoping it all comes together.

There's also that maybe I'm being too self-critical. I remember when I used to write regularly for the HP fandom, and I'd make these jokes that I didn't find particularly funny--or maybe in a "that's not even funny" type of way--and they cracked people up. And I'd just be like "it's not that funny..."

I'd try bouncing ideas off people, except that I tend to be too embarrassed.

---

So I just found out today that there is a conflict of policy within the university: in most places on campus, we don't have to pay if we brought our own teabag, and we're just getting the hot water. But when I went into a shop, owned by the school and accepting the "money" on student cards, I was told I wasn't allowed to bring my own teabag. And when I picked up a New York Times I was told I had to pay two dollars for it, even though there are at least four other places on campus where it's free. WTF? I don't mind paying for the tea--they didn't make me--because I can understand why they don't want people bringing their own teabags (saving confusion). But the newspaper thing is absolutely ridiculous.

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