I Stand With Planned Parenthood

I was interviewed by Dr. Dan from In Focus on WVOX at the rally today. This is why I told him I was there:

Without affordable health care, Planned Parenthood is a crucial resource for many women — and men.

In New York state, taxpayer money only funds abortions on a voluntary basis, and only in cases of rape, incest, or a threat to the mother's life (see the Hyde Amendment).

And the GOP is supposed to be focusing on creating jobs, not restricting women's reproductive rights.



GOP = Get Out (Of My) Pants!

Care

I know I've touched on this before, but it bears repeating. And I'll try to keep it in concrete, monetary terms to avoid being immediately dismissed as a bleeding-heart liberal socialist.

My name is Rebecca. I am 36 years old and I live and work in New York City. I am a technical editor for a national engineering society and I hold a Bachelor's degree, i.e., I am a skilled laborer in a field essential to the functioning of our country's infrastructure. I am single and have no children. I live in a studio apartment in a walk-up building. I have no credit cards or outstanding loans. I make approximately $2,300 a month, and I live, quite literally, from paycheck to paycheck. My monthly rent, gas, electricity, cable, phone, grocery, laundry, and transportation expenses total approximately $2,100. I do not buy gourmet, organic, or otherwise expensive specialty food; I do my own laundry. I try to deposit $100 a month into a savings account, which leaves $100 remaining.

I also have arthritis in one toe, scoliosis, hearing loss in one ear, a family history of cancer and heart disease, and bipolar disorder. $100 per month doesn't even come close to covering the medical expenses associated with these conditions. A single routine trip to the gynecologist would wipe that sum out completely and leave me still owing more.

This is why I am grateful for my employee health benefits and support the public option.

Before going any further, let me address some of the societal stigmas surrounding my situation. Foremost, I am not lazy or looking for a handout — I went to college to improve my chances for employment; I earned a degree to remain competitive in the job market; I paid off my debts, plus interest. I work 40 hours a week doing indisputably meaningful work, meaning it produces calculable, tangible results, as opposed to what some consider subjective, such as fashion design or social work. I pay my dues. I make considerable efforts to stay healthy. My arthritis and scoliosis are hereditary. I was born with hearing loss. I have no influence over my family history. None of these things are my fault and I did not bring them on myself. I deserve a fair chance, along with those who through sheer luck have been born and remain free of disabilities.

Which brings me to bipolar disorder.

Mental illness is a divisive issue. Many are of the mindset that "it's all in your head; you're a smart person, you should be able to work this out yourself." Even I was. And then I almost failed out of college, despite being a straight-A student all through high school. I cried to professors when explaining how I couldn't finish assignments and was totally lost trying to force myself to understand the simplest concepts. I was fired from jobs for not being able to keep my anger in check or my emotions under control — I yelled at bosses, I yelled at customers; I'd lock myself in a bathroom stall several times a day to cry over the pressure of even the simplest tasks — asking a customer if they needed help, delivering a form to a supervisor, booking a hotel room for the boss's out-of-town guest. And all the while I knew this was not normal behavior, and still couldn't stop it. It took me an extra year and a half to graduate, and in the span of 5 years, I was fired from 3 jobs. This wasn't merely a depression over a few failed relationships, this was more taxpayers' money spent on my education than necessary and a liability to the businesses I worked for.

I've lived with these issues to some degree for over 2 decades. I get no pleasure or benefit out of living this way, and I believe my current position serves as evidence that I am at least a somewhat smart person, so it stands to reason that if I could help myself, I would have. Therefore, I could keep up this routine for the rest of my life, not really accomplishing anything for myself or for society, actually being a burden to society by either wasting others' time and effort failing at jobs or by collecting unemployment — a significantly greater expense than the approximately $250 per month retail value of my medications or the approximately $55 per month premium for the insurance provided by my employer — or, what it comes down to, some of the richest people in the world could chip in some relatively petty change to help me help society, instead of complaining about my drain on it.

After all, I pay my taxes. I help fund the police, the post office, public parks. I pay for roads and public schools, even though I don't drive and I'm not a student, nor do I have a child who is a student. I pay for public television, even though I don't have children, because I want my niece to have the same access to educational programming that I had, even if my brother and sister-in-law aren't able to afford it themselves. I pay Social Security, even though it's possible the fund will be depleted by the time I'm ready to collect, because my mom has worked hard all her life, and I want her to be able to support herself if she needs help and I can't afford it — she shouldn't have to suffer for my insufficiencies. I am not trying to scam anyone out of anything. My country guarantees me the same right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness as anyone else. If you want to keep our country great, you will help its people, because without us all, there is no country.

From The Mind(less Drivel) Of M. Night Shyamalan

So, yeah, I rented that M. Night Shyamalan atrocity Devil last night — don’t ask why — and I just wanted to share some of my utter disbelief at how bad it actually was...

Basic Premise: 5 people are trapped in an elevator; one of them is the devil. (They are all shameless clichés.)

Within the first 15 minutes, I had already figured it out.

***SPOILERS!***

1. Obvious choice would be the mysterious quiet guy, so it's obviously not him (unless they were counting on us to think that and were pulling a double twist, which I don't believe they were clever enough to come up with).

2. They all hate the annoying salesman, so they all automatically blame him, which automatically makes it not him. (Sure enough, he is the first one to die.)

3. The angry black security guard is both a symbol of authority and new on the job, which makes him suspicious, so it could be him, only that would be racist, so it's not him (unless, again, they were trying to be clever and controversial, which I don’t give them credit for).

4. The pretty rich girl gets mysteriously hurt early on, so it couldn't be her, which means it is her, unless...

5. ...they go the very obvious "least obvious" route, which means it's the scared, harmless old lady.

Who it was.

Moviemaking at its effing finest.

LOLZ!

Final Tally Of Tasteless/Insensitive/Offensive Groupon Super Bowl Commercials: 3

Issues Targeted For Mockery: endangered whales, Tibet, the destruction of the rain forest.

I guess they didn't have the budget this year for Darfur and cancer.

Still Smells Like Teen Spirit

Ripped stockings: Mine.
Striped knee socks: Also mine.
Doc Marten boots: Borrowed from my sister.
Baby-doll prom dress: Mine.
Baby-doll tank top: Mine.
Studded belt/choker: Mine.
Little girl hair barrettes: 18 for $3 at the drugstore.
Hair prep: None — just washed and let it frizz out naturally.
Makeup: Black eyeliner. That's it.

Reliving my youth for less than five bucks and a ticket to My So-Called Prom at the Bell House: Priceless.

GRUNGE LIVES!! RIOT GRRRL 4 EVA!!

I'm A Bitch And I'm Proud!

Guy with a bike knocking into me as he gets off the train: "You could have just stepped out, lady!"
Me: "And you could have not brought a bike on the train during rush hour, dick."

Me: "Excuse me, could I sit there?"
Woman holding a coffee and a cell phone with 3 tote bags taking up the seat next to her: "Sorry, I've got too much stuff."
Me: "Of course you do. And of course your stuff paid for that seat. Thanks a lot."

My commutes have become so much more enoyable now that I've actually started saying these things out loud...

Redefining Rape

Bruises and broken bones do not define rape — a lack of consent does. Please sign the petition to block the Smith Bill: http://tinyurl.com/4uouptq

This bill is disgusting.

What exactly is "coerced rape?" If you get roofied? If you go back to a guy's house after a date? If you "lead him on?"

What if you fall asleep after having consensual sex with a guy and wake up to his frat brother on top of you? What would you call that — a learning experience?

I don't think men fully understand what it is like to live with the threat of rape in the back of your mind ALL THE TIME.

Imagine what it would be like if every day of your life there was a chance that any woman you come across might castrate you. If you go to a bar or walk home from school alone. If you're hanging out at her house, or you just let her give you a ride home. Or if you, say, wear tight jeans or bare your abs at the gym. ANY woman, at any time, even if you already know her, even if you've already slept with her before.

And she has the power to cut off your balls.

Just try to picture that, just for a minute.

And then tell me what "rape" really is. Motherfuckers.

Interoffice Gender Confusion

I am really not enjoying my job right now, but sometimes some little thing comes along that makes me smile...

E-mail received by a female co-worker and forwarded to me under the subject line "See? I didn't make it up!":

"Hi dear! I am for a decent man.
As for me, I am a young Russian girl
Do you like Russian women?
They are not just beautiful and smart, but very tolerant too.
Russian women value family and try to be with their husbands as much as possible.
It's time to get to know each other!
See you on marriage agency. Cheerio!
Please, visit this site!"
[Ed. note: site blocked from work computer]

...and the latest from Awesome Engineering Guy, to a male co-worker, forwarded to me under the subject line "Thought this might be blog-worthy"*:

"They moved my crew to the 23rd. If you were coming out of the lady’s room (quickly) on that floor, make a right, walk, then make a left at the next aisle. My ghetto cubicle is the last one on your left.

If anyone catches you coming out of the lady’s room, don’t tell them you were looking for me.

...awkward."

* He knows me so well. :D