Privilege?

It's something that's come up recently, this notion of privilege.
Am I guilty of it? Am I privileged at all?
The answers are: sort of, and definitely.

I'm white. I'm fairly educated, (or at least self-educated,) I'm (mostly,) cis-gendered.

I keep coming back to thoughts of my own naivete.
I don't see the world the way I'm supposed to.
That, in and of itself, is a privilege.

I was raised to see people as people. Also, to paraphrase George Carlin: Give the average person 5 minutes and they'll give you more than enough reasons to loathe them.
I just don't have the time or energy to hate people on the basis of externals.
How am I not privileged?
I'm female. I'm poor. I'm both a caregiver of a disabled person and have disabilities. I identify as bisexual because I'm attracted to women, although all of my partners/relationships have been with men.
I'm a rape survivor. I have depression and PTSD.
So...
How do we get past the privilege and start dealing with each other as human beings?
How do we not get bogged down in our differences?
I'm not sure.
I do know that ultimately, the things that divide people who are oppressed, are far less important than what unites us.
I know that keeping us all divided serves those in power and so they propagate those divisions.
I know that we should all work on seeing each other as people first.
If I define myself by either my privilege or oppressed status, I become paralyzed. Often I pretend neither exists.
I have to, in order to function on a day-to-day basis.
I know that one thing I hang onto is a quote from Bill Maher, "Either we're all drinking from the same water fountain, or we're not."
Reducing things to the simplest terms, keeps me fighting.
If any one of us is not free, none of us are free.
What doesn't matter to me in my interactions with people: race, ethnicity, gender, income, education, orientation... Putting ourselves and each other into tiny little boxes doesn't help anyone.
We all have specific vulnerabilities, yes.
Why are our own problems more important than anyone else's? "Because they're mine," To quote Ally McBeal. Yes, in our hierarchy of priorities, our problems take precedence. It's first principles at work.
In reality, oppression is oppression.
Can you imagine the tidal wave of humanity, roaring at those in the halls of power, if we could put our differences aside?
We would be an unstoppable force for change.
We need to start thinking like that. As long as we keep to ourselves and remain fragmented, we are weakened. We are powerless. Just the way politicians and corporations like us.
My rights are not damaged by removing the barriers to others' rights.
Freedom benefits everyone.
Except the power structure.
I'm okay with that, really.
Are you?

Thanksgiving is the gateway holiday

Holidays were always bittersweet. I have memories of about 2 Christmases with both my parents. After they split up, my dad wasn't around much. Ever. The last actual Christmas I remember seeing my father, I was 9. I was in the hospital at the time.

I grew up poor, but not impoverished. I was always encouraged to use my imagination, to play. Many of the Christmas or birthday presents I received were based on creativity. A miniature potter's wheel and clay. Art supplies. A collection of children's musical instruments. My mom was the master of no-money-fun. When I was growing up, the museums and the conservatory, (an arboretum, actually,) were not very expensive or were free. The library and museum being connected was always a wonderful thing, to me.

I never really felt deprived in the sense of not getting what I wanted for Christmas. I didn't really envy my schoolmates in terms of things.

I don't think I even realized we were poor until junior high school. Clothes became the demarcation line. Even going to catholic school and wearing uniforms, there were the Benetton sweaters and the Ralph Lauren Polo Shirts that I would never wear.

Over time, I understood that my mother didn't understand the things I wanted for Christmas, (yes, she always made me make a list.) I wanted books or music. Getting clothes was like torture. My grandfather once gave me a bible for Christmas. I was 7. It weighs 15 pounds. Um... Not so much.
My mother and I have very similar tastes as adults, but could not have been more different during my adolescence.

I rebelled by not rebelling. I became a good little preppie, whilst she got spike purple hair. Confused? So was I.
Eventually, I just started asking for gift cards. Then I started asking for nothing.
Why?
Because the level of misery I saw all around me during the holidays began to make me sad. I happened to work for more than eight years on the edge of ground zero for the holiday frenzy: a quarter mile from the mall.
No one ever looked happy. Everyone seemed frayed at the edges at best, on the verge of an emotional breakdown at worst.

Even when I was still practicing the religion I was raised in, I experienced cognitive dissonance at what the meaning of the holiday was supposed to be, compared with the way it was, "Celebrated."
Celebrating the promise of redemption for humanity by spending obscene amounts of money?
What?
My standard answer has become, "There's nothing I need, and anything I want that I don't have is because I can't afford it, therefore you can't either."
What do I want for Christmas?
Peace on earth, goodwill towards men, women, furry creatures and all living things, including the planet we live on.
Serenity. Stillness. Love. Justice. Hope. That's what I really want.
You say, "C'mon, don't you want presents?"
Presents matter less to me than you'd think. I think that after many years of utterly disappointing birthdays, (4 weeks after Christmas, dead of winter, everyone's sick, it's football season, etc.,) during which I was ignored by a majority of my party guests, given thoroughly un-thoughtful presents and generally miserable, I stopped caring so much.
A truly thoughtful present is delightful, but an evening spent with people I care about, having a good time, is better.
I learned that if I really wanted something, I was better off planning for it myself.
That said, yes. Of course there are things I want. A netbook, a 1TB external hard drive, a new MP3 player, (leading contenders are Creative Zen and iPod Nano,) a trip to New Orleans, a trip to Paris, a new car. Someone at my beck and call to repair my house.
I don't have a sugar daddy and I don't have the money.
So what?
It doesn't make me unhappy. Happiness isn't something that can be derived from possessions. Happiness is found in connecting to other human beings, being loved, loving in return. Happiness is part of who we are, or it's not.
I'm happy when I do something I love, talk to someone that listens and to whom I never need explain myself in order to be understood.
I find myself wondering if we weren't bombarded with images and messages of consumption, would we be a healthier species? Of course we would.
I like Thanksgiving. I get to take a breath and look back on all the things I'm grateful for.
I also look forward to the blank slate of a new year approaching.
The month of December represents a helter-skelter of marketing-induced envy, guilt, and shame.
Not being able to afford things doesn't make you a bad person. Saying no to things you can't afford isn't a cause for guilt. That diamond necklace or XBOX isn't going to make you happy. Things don't equal love.  Love is the most important thing.
Always.
Breathe.

The last time I saw my father near the holidays, was when I was 30. He gave me a bracelet I've never worn, a couple of CDs I've never listened to and a language-learning audio course.
When I was 9, he gave me paperbacks of David Copperfield, Jane Eyre, 2 language books and an umbrella.
He knew me better then.

Thanksgiving was my Pap paps' favorite holiday. We always did Thanksgiving at my mom's parents. Christmas was at our apartment. I remember when our apartment was so small that my bedroom was literally the cupboard under the stairs and we had no room for a tree. My mom made a tree out of tinsel garland on the back of the door. I remember when we had real trees and we would decorate it together on Christmas eve. I remember when I believed in Santa and swore I heard sleigh bells on the roof. I remember my grandmother making fried dough, (plain, w/raisins, and ugh, w/anchovies,) and unwrapping presents. I remember having the flu for the umpteenth time on christmas. I remember my family around a table, happy.
The memories are what matter. Not the things
I miss my grandparents.
I miss the wonder of childhood.
Experience the wonder and let the stuff fade into the background. You'll remember more and enjoy it for longer.
As for me, I think I'm going to watch The Polar Express this weekend. For the wonder of it.
Happy Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving

What am I thankful for?

This is a question that we often forget to ask. Too much is happening day to day, the world spins forward at an ever increasing rate.
It's been a difficult year. For most of us, economically, we're not doing as well as we'd expected. A lot of people are unemployed. The numbers are way higher than most people would like us to believe. It's nearing 20% unemployed. People are losing their homes, people are filing bankruptcy, having to surrender their pets because they've lost homes and moved to apartments that don't allow them. Food insecurity is at a staggering rate, particularly for children.

So, what am I thankful for?
For starters, I'm grateful that my Uncle Alan made it a lot easier to get the laptop I'd been saving to buy for my birthday this year. I'd been close to having enough saved, but it was a close thing and he made it so that I didn't have to, y'know, decide not to eat for two weeks. ( I really am that broke. I don't make decisions about buying a new face scrub lightly, folks.)
I'm thankful that while the bandwidth sucks, Cricket broadband is cheap and commitment-free. I'm able to stay connected and do what I want. Yay, intarwebz!
That's just the silly stuff. Well, not silly, just not deep.

I'm incredibly thankful that despite my having next to no money to put into it, my beloved '91 Volvo (Susannah) continues to run. She's a tiny steel tank and I love her.
I'm thrilled that while my mum's spinal procedure didn't work a treat in lessening her pain, it didn't make things worse. I'm also thrilled that she's finally getting some proper pain management.
I'm thankful that I've remained relatively healthy aside from migraines.
I'm thankful that when the economy crashed, unlike other people, I was already used to living on a shoestring and therefore didn't suffer too much.
I'm thankful that for all the families that need it, in every community, there are food banks helping people. Look in your cupboards, think of how much food you waste, donate to a food bank. They need the help.
I'm thankful for really cheap beer.

I'm thankful that even though we're in a rough patch, Jon has been in my life through the good and bad of the last 3 1/2 years.
I'm thankful for Valkyrie and Alim, Opal and Eamonn.
I'm thankful for Codie, Ed, Emmeline and Stiny.
I'm thankful for Marie, Melinda, Bek and the friends I've made on Twitter. Risa, Am, Jerry, Melissa, Poppy, Mark, Jessica, Leigh, Clive, Kali, Pam, Nicole, Clare, Emma-Jane, Eyglo, Elyssa, Christine, Deb, Leslie, Jeff and honestly...waaaaay too many to list.
I am thankful that Beth Hommel rescues cats. I lost my dog, Zoe and my cat, Spike, both inside of a few months. I was devastated. I wasn't even thinking of getting a new pet. Jon talked me into adopting a kitten Beth rescued, and now I have Isabella.
I'm thankful for my mom. I have a fucked-up family. I can't have a relationship with my brothers because my father is toxic, but I've got my mom. She is awesome and crazy-making, but she's always the reason I keep going, even when I can barely drag myself out of bed.
I'm thankful for writing and making art of all kinds. It's what keeps me sane.
I'm also very, very thankful for chocolate.
We've all got a lot more to do, to give someone else a reason to be thankful. Taking stock every now and then isn't a bad idea.
I've got a job, a running vehicle, a roof over my head, food on the table, and a chance to share with a wide world of people.
True love and financial security, well, I'll keep wishing on stars for that.
In the meantime:
Have a safe, happy and healthy holiday. Be good to one another. Be kind to a stranger. Live, laugh, love and dream.

Let the apocalypsing commence...wow, that was quick. Also, the hilarious adventures of the BouncyMouse(tm) and how a sparklepire got me through hellmart with my sanity intact. Ish.

Today was to be the day of apocalypse. In my novel, yo. So, um...it turns out that at least in this draft, without you know, incredibly detailed end-of-the-world-porn and statistics and whatnot, the apocalypse takes about 500 words from a 2nd tier character. (Oh, did I mention I now loathe my leads? The shiny-happy-lovers-who-will-suffer, writing them is so alien. They're, y'know - normal.)

So, what did I do today? Got dragged to hellmart, wherein I searched out the Sparklepire Barbies (ok, I only actually found the Edward doll,) because, as I've mentioned before: A. Yes, Robert Pattison is dreamy and, B. I find Cleolinda's Twilight recaps and analysis, along with The Secret Life of Dolls, to be endlessly entertaining. (Also, incredibly insightful. There are manymanymanymany VERY IMPORTANT reasons, why we should be concerned that this is the stuff young girls and grown-ass women are taking as a romantic model.) I had to see if this thing really, reallyreally sparkled.
It does. It has baaaaad hair and looks basically nothing like poor Rob Pattinson, but, it does freakin' sparkle in the glorious fluorescent lighting of hellmart. I've also decided that carrying a sparklepire around hellmart is a perfectly valid coping mechanism to deal with the grotesquery contained within the big box walls.
(Why do I go there, you ask? Well, it's one-stop shopping. It's not cheaper. You'll see from the link that the toy place is actually five dollars less than hellmart, and it comes with additional swag. So take that.)
Ok, so I'm eventually going to write scenes from the apocalypse from multiple perspectives, but at least I've got my nihilistic sort-of villain/anti-hero/whatev's point of view down. It's remarkably terse.
I also made a pretty damn good playlist of doom to help the mood along.
So, that's good.
Ooh, and my throat is no longer sore from the freaking hellacious allergy attack at work yesterday. (Fact, if you know me IRL, do NOT EVER. No, EVER, leave wite-out open in my presence unless you're trying to KILL me. Not kidding. Wite-out fumes cause me to have asthmatic-lose-voice-quick-choke-to-death bullshit allergic reactions. Idk why, it just does. Also...take it easy on perfume in the workplace, people. You do not need to get your glam smell on for work. Unless you're planning on fucking someone you work with. In which case: Freakin be more subtle, will ya?)

On a super up note, my day contained a good half hour of total hilarity. Deciding against the eek-squeak mousie on a line as being a little to realistic hunting practice for the kitten, (btw, the kitten is not named after a certain adoraklutz kinda psycho heroine, I just saw the name after three days of calling her, "kitty," and she was being a maniac dizzy little thing and I thought, "Dizzy Izzy." So...yeah: Isabella,) but got the BouncyMouse(tm). The BouncyMouse(tm) is neither bouncy, nor particularly freakin' mouse-y.
Isabella likes jingle-y things. (Messrs Jingles I & II, and the jingle-catnip-tiger tail-thingy-that-is-incredibly-phallic.)
It went something like this:
Me: Is-a-bell-a, look at the mousie!
Isabella: Whatevs. Oooh, Squirrel! (i.e., the dog's tail moving.)

Pumpkin: (saunters vaguely into the area of lap wars and preens) O hai.
Me: Pumpkin, LOOK, A BOUNCYMOUSE! (jiggling it in her direction,) Look at the mousie!
Pumpkin: (Doubletake at this pathetic poly-something pretend mouse,) Biatch, GTFO. That's not a mouse. I haz keeelt me some meeces and that's just weaksauce. Like, whatevs. (Saunters over to the sofa and preens some more.)
Me and Mom: Head asplode-y laughter until we cry.
Me: (attempt to lure Isabella again, collapses in hilarity, tries with Pumpkin again.)
Pumpkin: We have been there, done that. (Licks paw in my direction, the feline equivalent of flipping me off.)
Me and Mom: Fall out laughing for another ten minutes.

The inordinate number of things that make me spectacularly happy in very small ways

I don't really talk about them much, I realize that. There are so many wondrous things in the world, that very often get drowned out by the horrifying injustices. As I've been ill recently, these have been invaluable. There's something profoundly wonderful about a cough drop that not only makes the scratchy, icky sore throat go away, but are chocolate. I talk for a living, trust me, they are a reason for tiny little squees of joy.

 Since I'm both a reader and writer, who still writes in longhand on occasion, a properly comfortable, medium point pen and a college-ruled notebook with satiny-smooth paper are a reason for delight. I'm fairly certain I appear quite odd when I flip open notebook covers and run my fingertips over the pages, but the end result is worth it.

Good friends, friends who understand what you mean without having to re-quantify and qualify it.

Chocolate, period, full-stop.
Laughter, from a fizzy giggle to a low chortle and the full-on belly laugh.
The first cup of coffee in the morning, that bitterness tinged with cream and sugar.
A steaming mug of tea on a cold evening, coziness in a ceramic shell.
The cuddly stretch of a kitten into the curve of my neck and shoulder, accompanied by a rumbling, even purr.
Re-reading a beloved book.

I could keep listing things, but ultimately, everyone's got to make their own list. As for what reminded me of all this, that would be Neil Gaiman, who very often blogs about the sort of ordinary wonders that comprise a life. Yes, there are a lot of cool, famous author-y things, too. A lot of times, it's the gentle and everyday beauty that we so often miss.

It's better to pay attention.

A short recap: first week of NaNoWriMo, political upheaval

1. I'm terribly behind on word count.
2. I'm actually getting a sense of inhabiting the world I'm writing, so hopefully, the word count will improve.
3. I'm incontrovertibly naive about human rights. I'm better off, if not happier that way. The human race can be terribly disappointing in its intolerance.
4. Politics is bullshit. Correction, politicians and the acts of politics are bullshit. None of us are better off this way.
5. I have made more, "real," friends online in the last year, than I have IRL in the last 3 years. This is possibly because people are terribly disappointing in their intolerance, among other things.
6. After some personal drama last weekend, I'm actually a happier person. It's important to know what your boundaries are, and to stand up for them. It's often far too easy not to do that.
7. That doesn't mean that you don't love people, even when you can't get along with them. It's important to step away sometimes. It does hurt like hell, though.
8. As a friend reminded me today: "Just make, just do, just be."- Clive Barker. Words to live by. Always.
9. Life is too short to not be who you are.
10. When in doubt, speak the truth.

Health Care Reform - Exclusions and Compromise

To begin, I don't know all of the details of the current bill. As we're waiting on the House vote, two things seem clear: We're not getting anything close to what, "We the People," need, and the politicization of our identities/bodies, marches on.

The Stupak amendment seems to have passed. This seems to prevent any insurer from covering abortion services.
There is also, (not sure of amendment name,) exclusionary language for services provided to transgendered people.

I feel incredibly naive tonight.

You see, as far as I'm concerned: Abortion is a legitimate medical procedure and a decision that ought be made between doctor and patient. Refusing to cover it amounts to nothing less than reinforcing the notion that women are incapable of being autonomous citizens. Thank you, Congress, for once again reducing my value to that of my uterus.

(Note: The House Bill has just passed. It is completely meaningless.)

The fact that transgendered people are excluded, not just the transition-services, but ultimately, completely excluded as a class, troubles me deeply.

We have, I believe a public option that has a trigger. What's the point? Without a public option providing direct competition to insurers, they have no incentive to change.
We've won nothing except a tick in the win column. We beat the fuckers, now what?

This bill isn't going to help most of us who need it. As a friend just told me, "We only got the door slivered open."
Yes. The trick is to keep our collective foot jammed in that sliver of open door and keep pushing it open.
Fast.
The only real, rational, effective reform possible, is adopting a completely new model. Build on what's been done in France and Germany, perhaps?
We need the safety net of an NHS, but a form of private co-insurance would be fine as well. I don't have a problem with keeping private options available for those who want and can afford them. However, being an ethical human being tells me that access to healthcare is a basic human right.
It's part of what living in a society requires of us.
We are interdependent, we must grant each other at least a minimum opportunity of health and education.
This seems so utterly simple to me. I cannot understand why it is such an anathema to others.
I really can't.
So tonight, while others celebrate the victory, I mourn a missed opportunity. For real reform, for taking our bodies and identities off the table in politics, for meaningful change in Washington. The saddest thing of all, is that it's been four months of political skirmishing, and now there's a win and even the win is meaningless. This bill is not likely to pass the Senate. The health insurance industry is spending 1.4 million dollars a day to ensure it won't.