Also: The book is utterly adorable, entirely accurate, and mirrored my own experience with roller derby—as an adult—a little too closely to merely call it "relatable." Highly recommended!
b.go lark (my work)
Roller Girl by Victoria Jamieson
Showing posts with label Serious stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Serious stuff. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 16, 2017
Two-Pronged
Returning a book to a co-worker with a small token of my appreciation/taking the opportunity to showcase my work:
Also: The book is utterly adorable, entirely accurate, and mirrored my own experience with roller derby—as an adult—a little too closely to merely call it "relatable." Highly recommended!
b.go lark (my work)
Roller Girl by Victoria Jamieson
Also: The book is utterly adorable, entirely accurate, and mirrored my own experience with roller derby—as an adult—a little too closely to merely call it "relatable." Highly recommended!
b.go lark (my work)
Roller Girl by Victoria Jamieson
Sunday, August 13, 2017
Wednesday, August 9, 2017
Launch Party!
Hey, all—I'm trying this new thing and I'd be super-appreciative if you'd check it out and spread the word...
Everyone likes surprises, and micro-gifts are cute and cheap! So stop by sometime and give it a try—it's fun and for a good cause (namely, my rainy-day fund). Thank you bunches!
FYI: I'm open to extras and package pricing being a little more lenient than what the website allows. If you're interested, feel free to send me a custom request—let me know what you'd like, and we'll work it out. #Cooperation!
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Put A Ring On It
Memo To Any Potential Fiancé(s):
Please don’t buy me a ring.
Really.
Rings are useless. I’d prefer you put the money towards a down payment on a brownstone, or a Balinese vacation, or a lifetime supply of tattoos. Or donate it to charity. Or better yet: just save it.
If you must get a ring, don’t buy me a diamond.
Really.
This one’s non-negotiable. Diamonds are blood on your literal hands. They are vile, consumerist, and ostentatious. Least of these, they’re not even original. If you buy me a diamond, you don’t know me well enough to marry me.
If you insist on a ring, I prefer emeralds or pearls. Really.
I come cheap, but I’m high-value.
Please don’t buy me a ring.
Really.
Rings are useless. I’d prefer you put the money towards a down payment on a brownstone, or a Balinese vacation, or a lifetime supply of tattoos. Or donate it to charity. Or better yet: just save it.
If you must get a ring, don’t buy me a diamond.
Really.
This one’s non-negotiable. Diamonds are blood on your literal hands. They are vile, consumerist, and ostentatious. Least of these, they’re not even original. If you buy me a diamond, you don’t know me well enough to marry me.
If you insist on a ring, I prefer emeralds or pearls. Really.
I come cheap, but I’m high-value.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Zero Tolerance
Today I went to an open house at Park 51, otherwise known as "The ZOMG Muslin Terrist Amercan Taliban Ground Zero Mosque." Here's a brief summary of my experience:
• They did not make me wear a head scarf. Out of the approx. 25–30 people there, only one woman was wearing a head scarf. (I thought it was two but the other one was a little old lady in an appliqued turban.) Only one man was wearing a kufi. (I had to look up that word, so you can, too.)
• Next to the brochures about their spring classes and the mailing list sign-up sheet, there were flyers for The Anne Frank Museum, located across the street.
• Of the approx. 25–30 people there, about 75% were white. Of that 75%, another 75% looked to be middle-aged or older.
• The demonstrations for the two exercise classes offered at the center were capoeira (Afro-Brazilian) and karate (Okinawan).
• I had a conversation with the woman wearing the head scarf about cookies, our nieces, and Dora the Explorer (Spanish).
• Some of the radical words taught in the Beginner Arabic For Kids class are "turtle" and "baseball."
• Didn't see a single prayer mat.
• And here's the view of the offensive, disrespectful facade that you can't even see from Ground Zero (I walked past the memorial; I checked):
I just checked, and I haven't been converted to Islam or trained to be a terrorist. I don't think I've been brainwashed to hate America.
That was a pre-existing condition.
• They did not make me wear a head scarf. Out of the approx. 25–30 people there, only one woman was wearing a head scarf. (I thought it was two but the other one was a little old lady in an appliqued turban.) Only one man was wearing a kufi. (I had to look up that word, so you can, too.)
• Next to the brochures about their spring classes and the mailing list sign-up sheet, there were flyers for The Anne Frank Museum, located across the street.
• Of the approx. 25–30 people there, about 75% were white. Of that 75%, another 75% looked to be middle-aged or older.
• The demonstrations for the two exercise classes offered at the center were capoeira (Afro-Brazilian) and karate (Okinawan).
• I had a conversation with the woman wearing the head scarf about cookies, our nieces, and Dora the Explorer (Spanish).
• Some of the radical words taught in the Beginner Arabic For Kids class are "turtle" and "baseball."
• Didn't see a single prayer mat.
• And here's the view of the offensive, disrespectful facade that you can't even see from Ground Zero (I walked past the memorial; I checked):
I just checked, and I haven't been converted to Islam or trained to be a terrorist. I don't think I've been brainwashed to hate America.
That was a pre-existing condition.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Where It's At
My great-grandfather was from Armenia. The only thing most people know about Armenia is the Kardashians. The only remotely positive thing about this is that it's a perfect example of how all Armenian surnames end in some form of "-ian." For further proof, please see the guys from System of a Down. (If you know my last name, the answer is it was shortened when my grandparents emigrated to this country.)
People ask me all the time, "Where is Armenia, anyway?" My standard answer to this query is "near Turkey." The irony of this, if one can call it that, is that between 1915 and 1923, the Turks slaughtered approximately 1.5 million Armenians in what is known as "The Great Crime." It's possibly the second worst genocide in history, behind the Holocaust. The word "genocide" was even coined to describe this particular massacre. I'm sure the Armenians don't exactly appreciate this association.
A better answer, I've found, to the question of Armenia's location is "ancient Troy." Which technically, of course, makes me a Trojan.
I prefer this explanation.
People ask me all the time, "Where is Armenia, anyway?" My standard answer to this query is "near Turkey." The irony of this, if one can call it that, is that between 1915 and 1923, the Turks slaughtered approximately 1.5 million Armenians in what is known as "The Great Crime." It's possibly the second worst genocide in history, behind the Holocaust. The word "genocide" was even coined to describe this particular massacre. I'm sure the Armenians don't exactly appreciate this association.
A better answer, I've found, to the question of Armenia's location is "ancient Troy." Which technically, of course, makes me a Trojan.
I prefer this explanation.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
NY ♥ FAGS!
I was interviewd by a cute Asian boy (I'M NOT RACIST! SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS ARE ASIAN!) outside Brooklyn City Hall this morning at the WBC protest. This is what was said:
Him: "That's a very interesting sign [GOD HATES THE G TRAIN]. What's the message you're trying to convery here?"
Me: "Just how ridiculous these guys are. If they can presume to know what God hates, why can't I? If I hate the the G train, then God must hate the G train."
Him: "Do you hate the G train?"
Me: "Yes."
Him: "Why do you hate it?"
Me: "It's never on time."
Him: "So are you religious?"
Me: "No."
Him: "Were you ever religious?"
Me: "Yes, I was raised Catholic."
Him: "Are you gay?"
Me: "Nope. I'm straight."
Him: "You know, a lot of straight people don't care enough to be doing something like this. What made you decide to come out here?"
Me: "Well, I have a lot of gay friends, but even if I didn't, I just think it's an important issue. It's like not letting black people sit in the front of the bus. If they want to get married, let them get married. What's the problem? It's not like any gay guys are trying to marry THEM. Oh, and I love art projects."
I ♥ NY. :)
Him: "That's a very interesting sign [GOD HATES THE G TRAIN]. What's the message you're trying to convery here?"
Me: "Just how ridiculous these guys are. If they can presume to know what God hates, why can't I? If I hate the the G train, then God must hate the G train."
Him: "Do you hate the G train?"
Me: "Yes."
Him: "Why do you hate it?"
Me: "It's never on time."
Him: "So are you religious?"
Me: "No."
Him: "Were you ever religious?"
Me: "Yes, I was raised Catholic."
Him: "Are you gay?"
Me: "Nope. I'm straight."
Him: "You know, a lot of straight people don't care enough to be doing something like this. What made you decide to come out here?"
Me: "Well, I have a lot of gay friends, but even if I didn't, I just think it's an important issue. It's like not letting black people sit in the front of the bus. If they want to get married, let them get married. What's the problem? It's not like any gay guys are trying to marry THEM. Oh, and I love art projects."
I ♥ NY. :)
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
I'm An Aunt!
Welcome to the world, brand new person Madelyn Grace!
10:47 am June 16, 2011
6 pounds 15 ounces, 20 inches
Congratulations Lee Anne and Tim!
my little brother
♥
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Pay It Forward
"I stay within MY budget, why can't the government stay within theirs?"
Well, let's consider this: Are you caring for a sick kid? Has your house ever been robbed? Did you ever lose a job? What if there's a storm and a tree crashes through your roof?
What if your insurance didn't cover any of it? Do you have all of that factored into your budget, too?
It's kind of hard to predict when an EMERGENCY is going to happen, or its extent, or how much it's going to cost. Medicare and Medicaid, defense programs, unemployment, and natural disaster funds cost money. You pay insurance to protect yourself and your assets. You pay your taxes to protect this country and its citizens.
You pay for the house you live in; if you don't, you get kicked out. You can pay for the country you live in, or you can leave.
Good luck finding lower tax rates in Europe.
Well, let's consider this: Are you caring for a sick kid? Has your house ever been robbed? Did you ever lose a job? What if there's a storm and a tree crashes through your roof?
What if your insurance didn't cover any of it? Do you have all of that factored into your budget, too?
It's kind of hard to predict when an EMERGENCY is going to happen, or its extent, or how much it's going to cost. Medicare and Medicaid, defense programs, unemployment, and natural disaster funds cost money. You pay insurance to protect yourself and your assets. You pay your taxes to protect this country and its citizens.
You pay for the house you live in; if you don't, you get kicked out. You can pay for the country you live in, or you can leave.
Good luck finding lower tax rates in Europe.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
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!
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!
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, February 7, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Seriously?
Dr. Keith: Tragedy Of Mental Illness
Dear Dr. Keith,
Speaking as a legitimately crazy person myself, I can indisputably say that this tragedy is not "ultimately" a story about mental illness. It is ultimately a story about why a person with a mental illness had a gun.
Get a job,
BeccaGo
Dear Dr. Keith,
Speaking as a legitimately crazy person myself, I can indisputably say that this tragedy is not "ultimately" a story about mental illness. It is ultimately a story about why a person with a mental illness had a gun.
Get a job,
BeccaGo
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Amen.
For those of you who haven't read it yet, there is nothing I could say that would add anything more to this post itself. This mom is a hero:
My son is gay.
My son is gay.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
We Miss You, Alex
"When a fashion designer dies, how you dress to remember him is as powerful a eulogy as any spoken word or requiem." —Tom and Lorenzo
Daphne Guinness at the Alexander McQueen Memorial Service.
I can't believe foot-high platform boots are making me cry.Saturday, September 11, 2010
In Memoriam
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"On 9/11 the world united in horror and despair.
Let's not wait for tragedy to be united again."
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Zero Grounds
I'm too lazy and pissy right now to re-type all of this and lay it out in proper blog format, but if you were curious as to my strongly-held opinions regarding Park51 — the infamous "Ground Zero Mosque" — you may observe them here, on this badly-done MS Paint reproduction of the forum in which I do all my serious political debating: Facebook.
[Click to magnify to normal reading size. Selected comments unrelated to the outcome have been removed.] The link to the original story may be found here. (Also, in case you were wondering, that's Miss Kazakhstan during the national costume portion of the Miss Universe pageant in my avatar.)
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