Tuesday, October 30, 2007

I'm Charlottesville visiting my mom. Last night we watched All About Eve... the classic Bette Davis epic and beginning of Marilyn Monroe's career. We were lusting all of the various fur accessories throughout the movie. I've always wanted a fur coat. I'm not sure why - it always seemed glamorous and no one does it anymore. All of the animal activism craziness has put it out of style, but there's something undeniably classy and womanly about a fur. And so today my mom and I were at a shop and there, waiting for me, cranberry colored, hand-sewn pom mink stole. It was both love and fate. Of course I bought it. I now own a mink. Not just a mink, but a really unique one.

I considered writing a long blog entry about why I don't consider it wrong to wear fur, but I'll spare you.

Charlottesville is great. I love it everytime I come here. Today we're going to the vinyard we visited last night for some spectacular gouda and cabernet franc. I should wear my mink. Hee.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

When I was a teenager, I hated the mall and I hated shopping for clothes. Trying to find dresses for special occasions that didn't make me look like a bag lady or a tent was impossible. Seeing manniquins in the windows of what I called "skinny girl stores" made me feel like I would never be able to view clothing as something enjoyable or fun. I was 50 lbs overweight. I had no desire to draw more attention to my body. I hid underneath baggy jeans and extra large t shirts.

Now, of course, years later, I thoroughly enjoy shopping. The Limited, which was then to me the quintessential skinny girl store, is now where I spend most of my clothing budget. I don't think too often about all the times when I would cry in the dressing room after a fruitless day of shopping or how I felt everyone was staring at me when I would walk into The Limited or the Gap. They were staring at me. Now when I walk in, they catagorize me as a likely spender, not some poor, lost nerd trying to kid herself.

Yesterday I went into Victoria's Secret. I don't have a staggering collection of lingerie the way I have, say, a staggering collection of black shirts. But Dan thought it would be fun to buy some together. I looked through racks and racks of overpriced "specialty" bras with lace and sparkles and embroidery. There was not a single D cup to be seen. Now, I would think that a store that specializes in lingerie would carry D cups, seeing as how it's a common size and Victoria's Secret markets to the masses, not to girls who look like eleven year old boys. I began to feel discouraged. Then I felt angry. We left. Dan convinced me I must be wrong and to ask a salesperson. She says that they do carry my size--but only bras that aren't "specialty bras" (i.e. the pretty ones). So obviously Victoria's Secret HAS heard that there are women who wear D cups--they just obviously don't feel that they deserve to look sexy. I felt myself starting to get upset and wanted to cry. I wasn't sure why I reacted so strongly. On the way home I realized that all of the emotions I felt when I was a teenager were coming back. It wasn't that I felt fat... but I did feel descriminated against. I don't understand why our society seems to be on a mission to make all women feel like they're freaks.

When I got home, I went online and looked at bras on their website, hoping I would be able to order something. I was horrified when I realized they actually had the gull to charge MORE for D cup sizes! Like they aren't overpriced enough anyway... but seriously... to treat D cups as if they're some sort of "plus size" is bull shit. A 36D is completely within the universally accepted normal range of sizes. I have no problem finding my size anywhere else. That's like if I went into the Limited and they told me they didn't carry a size 8, unless I wanted to purchase some unattractive yet practical elastic stretch pants. A store that specializes in bras should maybe take a moment to educate themselves about them.

I suppose I've lost sight of how our culture catagorizes, glorifies, demonizes, and demeans women while capitilizing off of their subsequent insecurities. I may be able to have mostly pleasant and comfortable shopping experiences, but not everyone can. That's unfair. Every woman has the right to feel sexy, beautiful and confident, and none of us need to be told that we're too much or too little of anything.


More reasonsto hate Victoria's Secret.

Friday, October 19, 2007

Christina is in town for her fall break. We drank girly martinis at Bistro and stalked our old boss at Nine Irish Brothers, who bought us shots of Jameson and sat and talked with us. We ended up at my strip club, but it was uneventful.

I just got back from Chicago. I took Dan to see his $400 an hour psychiatrist. The whole thing really just served to piss me off. Psychiatry is such a joke. This man spent thirty minutes with Dan. Dan said he felt bad. The Psychiatrist asked ME what I thought the issue was. I told him Dan hated his job, felt stagnant and unstimulated, and should find another job. The psychiatrist repeated what I said, told him to get another job, and wrote him three useless prescriptions for random, new drugs, on top of his old prescriptions, and charged him $200. One of the things he prescribed was Ritilin. Ritilin turns people into zombies... no one even prescribes it anymore. I couldn't believe how useless he was. I thought, I could do this, but I could actually help people. No one is interested in the sources anymore, or causes. People are only interested in symptoms, in making people think that they're natural fluxes are an illness. I leave exception for the exceptionally unhealthy, but the number of functional members of society convinced of their dysfunction is disgusting. It made me think of the movie Brain Candy. Our society really does just want a bunch of catatonics walking around continually funneling money into the drugs they believe they're dependant on.

I had the thought to look into nutritional psychology. It's one of the few valid fields of psychology, in my opinion, and one of the most attacked. A great example of this is the current, insane propaganda of "vitimins are dangerous." 0 people died from a "vitimin overdose" last year. How many thousands died from prescriptions spoon fed to them by some shrink who got a vacation to Hawaii as an incentive from the drug companies? This could be a career possibility for me, and I could actually work with teenagers and people with eating disorders, obesity, sugar addictions and nutritional deficiency-related depression. Drugs are like fad diets, and they can't replace nutrition and introspection, just as diet and exercize can't be replaced as a solution for weight loss. There is no "quick fix" for people's problems. Drugs may help, but it should never be the first "go to" solution. And thats' what they've become. I think I've always had an aversion to psychology because my mother is a psychologist and most of what dominates the field is politically motivated bullshit. And I was always raised with the attitude that it was bull shit. Plus I HATED psych 101. But this could actually be something to take seriously.

Anyway. I finally got glasses, just short of failing my driver vision test. I can see things now!

Monday, October 8, 2007

It appears I can't leave for Toronto until tomorrow because I don't have my birth certificate yet. I'm meeting up with the lady I'm working for in Spain. I am somewhat annoyed I can't leave early, but I'll get over it. I don't know if I should consider leaving tomorrow evening and stopping at a cheap hotel along the way. That might be the best idea.

Today I ran across king size, organic cotton sheets in a lovely earthy tan ON SALE while I was getting my oil changed. It made up for this shitastic day.
I hate Columbus Day. He didn't discover America and he did nothing but rape and murder the natives. Why do people still buy into this propaganda?

I am supposed to go to Toronto tomorrow but I can't cross the border because my birth certificate is in the mail and it won't be delivered today because of this stupid holidy. I have $1500 in cash that I can't deposit and have to carry around because the banks are closed. I hate Christopher Columbus. I hate stupid patriotic holidays excuses for the world not to function.

Sunday, October 7, 2007

For some reason, I've been slightly obsessed with this Britney Spears drama. I think it's ironic, with all of these unoriginal morons like Christina Aguilera trying to be Marilyn Monroe, that Britney actually is. People forget that Marilyn wasn't the pinup, she was a tragic, lost individual whose identity had been completely wrapped up in what others had created for her. I can't help but wonder if the media had been as intense and as exploitative as it is today if we wouldn't have been just as horrified but Marilyn's personal battles, which from a more distant perspective, seem glamorous and interesting. I think there's a lot of tragedy in what we do to women in our entertainment industry. Where there used to be talented actresses and singers who were self made, with only the lucky breaks they got along the way to help them climb the ladder, we now have a fame factory that can program any girl in the world to be an idol if they're skinny and impressionable enough. What this does is stunt the development of individuals and create a thin, shiny shell of glittery sex appeal to be sold anywhere and everywhere. But what happens when that individual starts to get restless and what happens when that individual realizes they can't compete with the illusionary image of who they've been made out to be? Maybe this is why I like Britney Spears, and hate celebrities. I like her vulnerability, because as fucked up as she may be, at least there's a part of her that still maintains some sense of the fact that she's a human and who wants to be a human. It seems pretty easy for celebrities to believe they're gods because their agents and magazines tell them so, but don't realize that they're not worshipped for their merit or talent or greatness, but for their shred of entertainment value to us, like trained monkeys on rollerskates. We don't care who they are. I think Britney, like Marilyn, wants someone who care about her, not her image. I think she hasn't diluted herself into believing all of her success and all of the attention she has received has anything to do with her, and I have to respect that. We as a culture ought to look at the impact we're having not only on the girls we're turning into media whores, but also the generation of girls who are saturated by it. Hell, when I was 13, Britney and Christina were still virgins. There were no stories of 18 year old pop stars getting DUIs without licenses, going to rehab and doing coke in public with their shirts off. I'm sure it was happening, but it wasn't being thrown all over teen magazine. There was still such a concept as "role model". And as a former camp counselor, anyone who wants to argue that young girls aren't influenced by all of this should try spending some time around them. I'm only 21, I can't even imagine what kind of warped culture we're going to have when I have children.

A few years ago, I was at an opening for an Andy Warhol exhibit in Chicago. While "society" was downstairs flocked around the hors d'oeuvres buffet, I was upstairs, undisturbed, able to really concentrate on his work. I'd never had a great appreciation for Andy Warhol before then, but I remember one blown up photograph of Marilyn Monroe in which I noticed that her lipstick was literally painted on in the shape of her famous, pouty lips. As gorgeous as she was, it wasn't good enough... her real lips weren't good enough. Everything had to be made bigger, brighter... just like Warhol's lithographs. We all look like people, and we all have to accept that we are what we see in the mirror at the end of the day. As Gwen Stefani wrote, "the magic's in the make up."

Friday, October 5, 2007

Last night I went to the Neon Cactus with Dan. I've never been to the piano bar, but I was over it after about 20 seconds. Something about an enclosed room with two hundred drunk college students that I couldn't handle. I have no problem with large crowds of adults, but large groups of people my own age make me really uncomfortable. We ended up just playing pool and having a few drinks. Somehow, over the course of a short period of time, I got really, really, really drunk... drunker than I've been in many years. So drunk I could barely speak or stand up and much drunker than I should have been off of two vodka and sodas - especially when I couldn't taste that much alcohol in them. I ended up sloppily dirty dancing with Dan in heels and a mini skirt and looking like all of the other hoochies with their pumps and Coach wristlets that I hate so much. When I got home, I was still drunk beyond drunk and it didn't seem to wear off in a normal course of time. I ended up just falling asleep after rambling and sobbing about something on the couch. I have a pretty good idea of how alcohol effects me and my tolerance is pretty high. Either I didn't eat enough yesterday or someone put something in my drink. It was bad.

Tuesday I'm driving to Toronto to meet the woman I'm going to Spain to work for. We thought it would be a good idea to spend some more time together before committing the next 6 months of of our lives to each other. It should be a lot of fun and I'm excited about seeing Toronto again. Of course, making the drive last minute is going to be a little stressful, but fortunately I have that freedom now. Speaking of which, tonight I have to work. It's Purdue's homecoming or some bull shit. Should be a good money making weekend.