because this will be easier than having my landlord traipse people in and out all next weekend while brooke is here:
do you and / or does anyone you know need an apt in chicago around 10/1? what about a beautiful one bedroom in wicker / bucktown. near both damen and division blue line stations. house backs up to walsh park. pets allowed. front yard and park in back. 2 other units in house, other tenants are nice and chill and quiet. email me? sarahcroberts at gmail.
eta: $1080 a month. not sure what pet cost is but i’m sure there is one. and no deposit but a one-time move-in fee of $300.
And yet I’m about to comment on this: I was just thinking this the other day! My maturity has mostly taken the form of “knowing when to shut the fuck up and listen.” Or just shutting the fuck up. About literally anything. All applies.
“How do we reconcile the imperfections of feminism with all the good it can do? In truth, feminism is flawed because it is a movement powered by people and people are inherently flawed. For whatever reason, we hold feminism to an unreasonable standard where the movement must be everything we want and must always make the best choices. When feminism falls short of our expectations, we decide the problem is with feminism rather than with the flawed people who act in the name of the movement…”—Roxane Gay, Bad Feminist. (via megwhat)
Is it racist that a white, 20 year old unarmed kid was shot by a black cop on Monday, Aug 18, 3 days ago and its no where in the news? Oh wait, it happens all the time, its just not newsworthy. Sucks to be white.
Dear Racists: I know you’re going to to be trotting this out in the next few days claiming that this shows how white people are just as badly treated as black people in the US (though, of course, the idea that “it happens all the time” to white people is, of course, a ridiculous and disgusting lie).
But guess what, fuckheads, as usual, you’re wrong as fuck. The reason this tragedy isn’t national news is because, surprise surprise, a similar (ish) shooting of a white teenager by a black cop is being handled by the authorities completely differently! That’s right, you dumbfucks, this officer is being immediately and vigorously investigated, the officer’s name was released, the victim wasn’t denied medical care, nor was his body left on the street for hours. It’s almost like, we treat black and white people differently in our justice system! And if you want to argue that the fucking Salt Lake City PD (oh shit, was I able to read about this case in the NATIONAL NEWS?!?!?! ) is racist against white people, you are fucking out of your mind.
So, nice try, you asshole, I know you were salivating over finding a case to compare this to Mike Brown, but, even with this timing, you’re not even fucking close to proving your racist “point.”
Whatever happens next, though, please keep on telling the truth and sticking your necks out. Good things come to those who are brave enough to show the world exactly who they are, without shame. And look, soon enough, you can be sure that someone will give this owning-of-your-flaws an embarrassing name, in the hopes that we’ll all get shamed back into the closet and go back to believing that every misstep and mistake should be airbrushed out or masked behind a smile and a high five.
Let’s not let them shame us, though, ok? Let’s keep on fumbling along, imperfectly, with pride, with grace, with humility, with an open heart. Let’s be messy and courageous, you and me and all of us. Let’s not be afraid to ask for exactly what we want, and to celebrate exactly who we are, and to eat lots of aged cheeses if possible. But most of all, let’s stick together and celebrate our messiness, and our courage.
“I’m not interested in anybody’s guilt. Guilt is a luxury that we can no longer afford. I know you didn’t do it, and I didn’t do it either, but I am responsible for it because I am a man and a citizen of this country and you are responsible for it, too, for the very same reason.”—james baldwin (via brookehatfield)
I don’t speak well (tweet well? lord) about death or grief or intense sadness. No one does it exceptionally well that I’ve seen. It’s never going to be enough to those directly affected and it’s always way too self-centered for those on the periphery. Including now. But I am upset, of course. Mainly for the ones I’ve / you’ve / we’ve lost to suicide. My close friends, my relatives. Yours, too. But also I’m saddest for those I fear for. For those I’ve worried about. For the ones I want to hold onto forever but know they may not make it no matter what I do. Who see this man who had so much and still made this choice. My heart is aching and worrying and so very fearful. It’s not like this will be a tipping point but who can predict what that could be / might be. I am here. I am not afraid of whatever is rocking you. I will be your free and endless hotline until you figure out the / a real one, a better one. I’m so afraid you don’t know that.
I am curious why we keep calling it ironic misandry. I actively dislike the majority of (straight, white) men because of what they do and stand for. And Meg appropriately called out the same thing on Facebook yesterday. But okay. “Ironic.”
yes i have a vested interest in defending feminism. no not because i have it tattooed on my ass. nice thought though.
i would post a picture of my tattoo now that it’s healed if i could do so tastefully but taking a picture of my own butt is really hard. and no one else has butt privileges currently. accepting applications.
yes i just claimed i’d do something if i could do it tastefully. someone recently mentioned i’ve grown up since moving to chicago, i think it’s more that i’m currently 3 years older. and weirder so maybe that seems like i’m more mature.
never delight in correcting another person. not only is it arrogant and condescending, its presumptuous. even if you are an expert, you are not above reproach. keep this in mind at all times.
if you are a woman and you work with other women, it is your responsibility to have the backs of your female colleagues. you may not get along with them or agree with them but you should never underestimate them or cut them down. its bad business. its bad humanness.
realize that everyone has a skill or strength and learn to play to those strengths.
don’t be a work hoarder.
learn to ask for help.
always ask questions. even if you think you know the answer. have you ever had someone express genuine interest in your work and then thank you for enlightening them to a specific task or point of confusion? isn’t it great? sharing that? you can give that to someone just by asking them for more information.
(i need to remind myself of these things on a daily basis because we’re all tested by the personality quirks of others. so like, i plan on printing this out and repeating it to myself every morning. its a good start, i think)
these are great, i’m particularly bad at work hoarding and asking for help. in a leadership meeting for the account i manage, we all made promises to each other and mine was “i promise to not take on everyone’s burdens and let people help me” … the team clapped. i may have a known issue. you’re not necessarily helping yourself with this shit because you invariably — like me — drop the ball if you’re trying to do too much and then you just look overwhelmed and unable to handle your shit.
i would also mention that you should learn to take constructive criticism and feedback well and not be defensive. listen. and then make yourself a baby action plan. you don’t even have to write it down, but keep it in mind. showing growth and progress, even baby steps, is usually huge to a good manager.
and speaking of being a good manager, something i’m learning. if you give direction and it’s not quite up to what you want. don’t think that person is not getting it, look to yourself and think about — how can i explain this better? i struggle with the fact that i pick things up very quickly and think they’re obvious, and keep so much shit in my head, BUT i don’t explain things as perfectly as i could because i think it’s obvious and easy. that’s condescending and no way to build a relationship. change tacts, be empathetic.
I went to have a couple beers with my coworker, favorite buddy Joel this evening. My Milwaukee schedule shifted and he offered to treat me to a drink and catch up and chat about some stuff. We talked about how he’s going to end things with his lady friend, work, our weekends, that a man was killed by a cop a block from my house last night, and Ray Rice.
The shooting and what happened and the potential sketchiness was a topic for a spell. Launching into my comments about being robbed, how I’d never really heard gunshots, and didn’t hear them last night. It was a frank and intense conversation. Admitting we were so lucky in this city. So many in Chicago don’t have the luxury of wondering, “huh have I ever heard real gunshots?” It’s sad and galling.
At some point after, I mentioned Smith and his comments. He agreed they were dumb and I launched into my perspective and this story. This buddy is a man who I’ve spent lots and lots of time with. Who knows my dating history pretty thoroughly — as I know his. We are close. We discuss stuff that’s intense and embarrassing and uncomfortable all the time.
As I was talking about my experiences with DV, upbeat and relaxed. To the point, matter of fact, unemotional. He asked me to stop. He didn’t want to hear about it. It bothered him. It upset him. I said oh it doesn’t faze me, I’d really like to finish my point, cool? He looked pained and said … okay.
I know part of his hesitation was concern for me and not wanting to confront that. But I’m fine now. I’ve been fine a long time. I, of course, stated my “it’s really important for me to be able to openly discuss these things” position. But it is. For so many reasons. It’s not attention or sympathy, it’s publicity. Spread the word, shit is common. And shouldn’t be.
He paused and told me gets it. And didn’t stop me further. So I continued and he listened and that’s all I needed. All lots of us need. Not a victim, not broken, not even emotional. It’s something that happens and we want to share. Feel we should or must and please don’t begrudge anyone an open ear and a little understanding. And zero need for you to feel sorry for me or anyone really. Victims, survivors, people of all types are just trying to live and we all have shit and maybe let people tell you about theirs.
My favorite type of antifeminism whinging is “WHAT ABOUT THE MEN OH NO HOW DARE YOU” whinging. Guess what ladies: lots of those bros don’t give one fuck about you or your equality. But yep keep paying them lip service. Trust me, they’re fine. They’ll manage without your support. That’s the whole fucking point.
Smith’s bullshit was galling on so many levels but for women, this is not a new message. Our job, throughout our lives is to not provoke men into beating us, raping us, cat calling us, whatever. Men, so many people would have us believe, simply cannot control themselves so it is our job, as women, to not only live our own lives but make sure men don’t hurt us.
What I know about relationships is that they are hard. I know that when we are arguing with our significant others, we can do terrible things. We can say terrible things. We hurt each other and hope that there’s a way back from that hurt.
When physical violence enters a disagreement, though, something changes. I don’t think it’s ever right for one person of any gender to nonconsensually strike another person of any gender. Violence is not a reasonable option.
Some pundits have said that Rice’s wife, then fiancée, struck him and he was simply defending himself. He has the right to defend himself but I am unclear as to when self-defense becomes knocking a woman unconscious. I am particularly unclear about how a professionally trained NFL football player who outsizes his partner significantly, cannot make a different choice.
I remember obsessing about how I caused my own beating(s).
It was my fault. I started it.
When we started fighting as we did, I struck first. I slapped and cried and fell down and screamed and once I took a bowl and I smashed it.
I was standing at the sink. He had been doing … something. I don’t remember. It didn’t / doesn’t matter. And I called him while he was at work. I was home that morning. I was a hostess at a very nice restaurant and worked about 4 days a week. I was still getting ready for my day. I learned something and called him to accuse him and get upset. I didn’t expect him to leave his office (5mins away) and come home to confront me.
I stood at the sink in our kitchen washing a bowl. His bowl. He had bought it, a part of a set. I had moved into his apartment a couple months before. It was small. I wasn’t happy. I was trying to make it work.
He stormed in and told me I was crazy and why was I snooping on him. What the fuck was I doing. I’m doing nothing I said calmly. I remember feeling eerily calm. He called me a liar and moved towards me. He had hit me before. Before I had even moved in, we had had physical altercations. He had thrown me against a wall. Slapped me across the face. Among other things.
As he moved closer, I took the bowl I was handwashing and raised it and SLAMMED it into the sink. Shattering it into many many pieces. Startling him and myself. The violence was provocative. I wanted to smash his face. I didn’t know how though. And I knew that would only be inviting my own downfall / beating. Again. And I distinctly remember shaking … vibrating with anger immediately after.
So the glass splitting and flying was satisfying. To me. He may not have agreed. But it was control on my part. I was already upset about so many things. I was losing it. It helped me gain minor control.
I stayed with him for another year before leaving. This was not the last time I broke glass.
I was listening to The Read and a listener asked them what their dream come true for their life would be. Like what would make them feel accomplished on this earth. What personal achievement is their primary?
So duh. I thought: what about me?
My first thought: I wanna be a VP … OR A P. An Executive. Very telling. I want to be well paid. And deserve it. I wanna be financially stable. And maybe have a good, chill place of my own. I wanna have enough money and flexibility to travel so much.
No tentacles of my brain thought “WIFE. MOTHER.” Which is surprising. I sometimes think I lie to myself with how comfortable I am about being single. I fear deep down it’s not okay with me. And being lonely is not okay. Not having regular sex is not okay. But I think I may be fine with my fate of singlehood forever.