ANGRY TYPING

Trigger warning: rape, rape culture

 

I just read something on Tumblr about Daniel Tosh that I wish I could erase from my consciousness. Like, seriously it made me so angry that I have indigestion. INDIGESTION. CAUSED BY DANIEL EFFING TOSH. This guy is, for a lack of a better word, a total piece of shit. You know, hahaha rape jokes are soooooooooooooooo funny, man. I still haven’t figured out WHY they’re funny, just that a lot of people (A LOT OF PEOPLE) find them SUPER HILARIOUS.

And you know what’s the absolute killer thing about Daniel Tosh’s unending rape joke schtick? Statistically, he knows women who have been raped. And to stand on stage and make money JOKING about it? Are you effing KIDDING ME? What could you possibly be accomplishing with that aside from adding to your piles of money and teaching other people that it is TOTALLY fine to mock and laugh at rape and rape victims? Someone said he was probably satirizing rape. Um. Satire only works if you’re good at using it, douchebag. And if that’s your idea of satire, lord help us all.

Seriously though, Daniel Tosh cannot fade into obscurity quickly enough. And sadly enough, I doubt that’s going to happen because too many people find abusive, mean, and wildly inappropriate and vile humor appealing. It’s a sad, disgusting commentary on our culture.

The void we’ll fill

You know what sucks about going to the internet for inspiration and workout routines? You can’t escape bullshit fitspo blogs, websites, and “advice”.  I say bullshit because it’s not fitspo (fitness inspiration), it’s just fat hatred or worse, pro-ana or pro-mia (pro anorexia or pro bulimia) stuff woven into talk about fitness. It’s frustrating when your goal isn’t to lose weight but rather to make your body function better. That’s all I want to do. I’m in my 30s now and that means things slow down a little and joints tighten up, and I don’t want to be hobbling around right NOW because what will that mean in twenty years?

The problem, again, is that almost every single place I look online for new workout ideas, I’m overwhelmed with WOULD YOU RATHER WORKOUT OR WOULD YOU RATHER BE A BIG FAT FATTY and honestly, as a big fat fatty, that kind of hurts my feelings. Because you know what? I have a really awesome life. It’s fulfilling and happy and more than I ever thought I’d achieve. The blanket assumption of fat = unhappy is annoying to many, many fat people. NEWSFLASH. We are not all miserable and hoping and praying that we’ll one day find the silver bullet to our fatness. No. Some of us are just fat. Deal with it.

Today I found this winner of an image on Pinterest and it REALLY PISSED ME OFF. Both of those things fit into my busy schedule. And because both of those things fit into my schedule, and the schedules of other fatties like me, my BFF and I are going to start a new blog. For exercising fatties. There will be no bullshit diet talk. There will be no YOU SHOULD EXERCISE TO BE THIN. There will be MOVE YOUR BODY IN ANYWAY YOU CAN BECAUSE IT FEELS GOOD and EATING LOTS OF CALORIES IS INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT WHEN UNDERTAKING A DEMANDING WORKOUT REGIMEN. Because it is. OMG you guys it so is.

For years and years, I struggled with food. Being a woman, I was taught from a very young age that fat was not desirable or good in any way, shape, or form. It never came from my parents, a fact for which I am eternally grateful, but it came from pretty much every other source. Schoolmates, strangers, magazines. So I developed a really unhealthy relationship with food. I developed a really unhealthy obsession with not eating. Because one summer, I discovered that not eating worked really well at keeping the ol’ poundage off. I spent a lot of time beating myself up because I caved to my hunger pangs like some sort of pansy and then not only did I eat, I binged, and thus began the starve-binge-starve-binge-starve-binge cycle.

And then one day, I had had enough. I had just finished that stupid Special K diet (I advise you to never, under any circumstance, undertake that diet. You are starving yourself and depriving your body of seriously needed nutrients.) and I was sick. My BFF knows more about this because she witnessed it as an outsider but I was sick. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. I had had enough. It took a lot of work, it took a lot of tears, but I finally started to separate my thoughts about food from the act of eating.

It’s been years since that happened and it isn’t easy. Still. I slip back into it, especially when I’m stressed out, but I’m better at catching myself and making myself eat when I’m hungry. I eat as intuitively as I’m able (like, I’ve been craving shrimp for like two weeks and have yet to partake in any UGH I WANT SHRIMP SO BADLY) and ignore as much dieting talk as I can. Because when I listen or when I let it bore its way into my psyche, I fall off the wagon. I start restricting. I start craving the headache and the dizziness and the little thrum of adrenaline that shoots through my veins. And I can’t live like that.

So this is why we’re starting the blog. To give people a break from the diet talk. To talk about how to realistically workout when your goal is movement and not weight loss. To talk about how you will be hungry A LOT ALL OF THE TIME when you workout everyday. To talk about how you need to eat when you get hungry because otherwise you’re depriving your body of much-needed energy. Because it’s been a challenge for me, undertaking a workout routine and dealing with the onslaught of hunger. More than anything, it has taught me that I have so much farther to go in my battle against my disordered thinking. I wasn’t eating enough before. Most days I still don’t eat enough. I’m working on it, but I think that’s why our forthcoming blog is important. There are so many people like me who go online to find inspiration, help, or ideas, and they’re met with all of this fake fitspo that does more harm than good. And in the meantime, if you’re looking for someone to chat with about working out that doesn’t have anything to do with weight loss, send me an email!

Five minute diatribe

So I’m really full of it this morning because it’s TOUR DATE DAY and I’ve had it UP TO HERE, ABOVE MY HEAD, with people being douchey misogynists when it comes to women who like or participate in sports. Shut the eff up. We are not all in it for the hots guys. We are not all lesbians. We know the rules. We love the rush of adrenaline you get when your team takes the field. We have just as much right to be here and enjoy the game as you do. We have every right to discuss sports, to participate in sports, and to cover sports as you do. We are not unqualified because we have vaginas. We are not here for you to sexualize, harass, abuse, or belittle. We are not going away and we are not backing down. So just shut up and keep your snide commentary about women to yourselves. We’re too busy scoring the game.

I am posting to avoid arbitration

Did “to avoid arbitration” trend on Twitter at all today? Because it certainly seems like it could have. Splash Hits has an epic run-down of who avoided arb and who didn’t (Giants only), so I will leave you to read all of that when you have time, but Tim Lincecum asked for a lot of money and for god’s sake, man, IT’S TIM LINCECUM.

I also have a lot of opinions about Brian Wilson and where his doubters can shove their hatred, but I’ll just say this: he’s been diligent, he’s looking good, and someone dared mention he was back to pre-beard Brian. Though only figuratively because I know for a fact he’s still got the beard. Not that it matters. It’s only facial hair.

And James Harden is only a basketball player for the Thunder.

He also wears bowties. You’re welcome, America.

In case you haven’t guessed it, I have my computer back! Still working to get it where I want it, but ye gods, IT HAS BEEN TWO WEEKS. TWO. WEEKS. PLUS ONE DAY. My twitchy bits are starting to relax. Everything is right with the world.

Except for all the things that aren’t.

And speaking of which, I’m going black tomorrow (or today) (or yesterday because you won’t be able to see this until then if you don’t get to this blog before 8am January 18) to protest SOPA/PIPA. So. You know. It’ll be like any other day on this blog when I don’t update, except you won’t be able to see anything (except maybe a post WordPress is going to post on my behalf. Idk).

COMPUTER! MINE! FIXED!

Tis the season of giving

Wanna do some good this holiday season? Help Generation Alive feed the hungry! You can donate on their website, and if you want to read an adorable story about the good they do, you can head over to Jeremy Affeldt’s blog and read his post on the kit-making event back in January.

Other giving opportunities:

Donate to RAINN to support their efforts to prevent and treat sexual abuse. They are currently accepting donations for #ProudPSUforRAINN.

The International Rescue Committee has opened their gift-giving donation shop for the season. There are a lot of different opportunities and level of support available, so head on over and take a look!

A little of this, a little of that

A few thoughts before I head off to bed.

A very bad thing happened yesterday (which was also my father’s birthday, coincidentally) and I’ve been mulling it over since then. In case you were unaware, a man name Troy Davis was executed in Georgia. Regardless of the truth, a life was taken to avenge the taking of another life, and this logic doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t understand taking a life because a life was taken. I just don’t. It’s a hard thing to believe when so many horrible, soulless people walk the planet, people who don’t care about anyone or anything. It’s hard to see the light within, hard to believe that a life that values nothing is valuable to the universe. But it’s what I believe and strive to live. So I mourn the lives lost, innocent and otherwise, and do not glory in the loss of anyone. I said this a few other places online last night and I will repeat it here so it is known: if someone takes my life, do not take theirs.

**

Changing gears to baseball. Our Giants aren’t faring so well and tomorrow (Friday) is the day, more or less. Cain on the mound, a song in our hearts…or maybe just a little bit of fight buried deep down somewhere, which pushes us through to next Wednesday. We’re tired. We’re battered. We’re playing injured with lots of working parts that can’t seem to connect reliably. Electric Girl pointed out tonight that we went to four games this season, and that’s four more than last season, and that made me happy. Then we daydreamed about becoming the Giants Grannies in about 30 years, when we travel down to Arizona for spring training in our big motor home covered in Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International, and Giants bumper stickers, and we scout the players and score games and during the regular season, we take care of our boys and bake them cookies and bring them soup when they don’t feel well. WE HAVE ACTIVE IMAGINATIONS. But it sounds like a nice way to spend my later years, don’t you think?

**

At the start of last weekend, or the beginning of this week (I can’t remember), I was laying on the floor and I moved to get up. I somehow slammed my big toe into the strip that divides the flooring of our entry and the carpet, and I split my toenail in two places in the middle. It didn’t chip off though, so I removed the nail polish I had on, made sure everything looked okay, and then repainted my toenails. After spending all week making sure I didn’t snag the nail on anything, I stopped paying attention for about five seconds and ripped off that piece of toenail. It didn’t really hurt for as much as it bled. And now my toenail looks terrifying. The worst part is that I can’t wear flip-flops tomorrow because I don’t have any bandaids. Well, I do. They’re in my car. So theoretically I could. Hmm…

**

We’re nearing my favorite time of year. October-December are the best months for me. I mean, I might have a new opinion on that because now I have baseball in my life, but I really can’t imagine anything thrilling me more than impending autumn. Dappled, golden light. Rain. Cooler temperatures. The smells. The sights. The crows that gather in the trees in Midtown at dusk. Fall is wonderful here. October is right around the corner. My favorite month!

Stay well, readers. Reflect on the gifts in your life. Smile at a stranger. Hug a loved one.

1985

It’s hard to find articles about the drought in the Horn of Africa in major U.S. publications. It just is. I have trouble finding them in the ‘World’ section of the email alerts I get from various papers. Today I was surprised to see it featured front and center in my New York Times email. The article is pretty thorough and points out a lot of the political and logistical nightmares that exist. It paints a very grim picture: a country held hostage by a group that overpowers the majority (that is, number) with force during a widespread drought. Aid can’t move in because either this group will skim off the top or take it outright, or to do so – send and provide relief – would break a number of laws.

I’m a child of the ’80s and much of my initial exposure to Africa involved emaciated kids my age who looked like aged infants and jagged cracks of earth that looked familiar – we experienced a drought of our own – and there was, of course, Live Aid. It was an event not without its trouble, which is another post for another day (how best to help when we cannot help at all, which sounds like a post for THIS post but it’s not), but when I think of the ’80s and how I first began to learn about the continent, I think of Live Aid.

We’re kind of in that situation again, but with more roadblocks and red tape holding us back. We don’t want a repeat of what happened in the early ’90s (Black Hawk Down), and we don’t want to stand idly by while an entire country falls to famine. People want answers and they want solutions, things they can do now to help. People want to know why we’re always looked to first in situations like this (hello, super power anyone?), and people want to know why Somalia’s neighbors aren’t helping more. In the comment section of that NYT piece, there are a lot of gross exaggerations and broad statements concerning the nature and behavior of Somalis, and a few calls for the involvement of the African Union. I had to take a step back when I read those comments because a) not every Somali child we managed to “help” in the early ’90s is a terrorist pirate with a gun, and b) not every Somali citizen we “helped” in the early ’90s turned a gun on us. Got it?

As far as the African Union is concerned, people need to stop thinking of it like the United Nations. They might strive to be like the UN, and I think that’s a noble ambition – the UN, though far from perfect, does the right thing from time to time, and they are an unbelievable resource for information – but right now, they don’t have the numbers. They don’t have the resources. They don’t have much of anything, and are you all aware that there’s STILL genocide going on in Sudan? How about DRC? The invisible children in Uganda? Hutu rebels attacking people in multiple countries? The already strapped AU cannot handle this situation on their own. Somalia’s new slip-shod government, if one could even call it that, struggles to govern. What the NYT article does say is that Somalia is more unreachable than Afghanistan.

More unreachable than Afghanistan.

I know Americans understand references to Afghanistan. Does that help put things into perspective for you?

Yes, the country is full of corruption, greed, and violence, but the perpetrators of violence aren’t the ones who suffer. If you know of an aid organization you trust, please give to them. They will find a way to siphon the aid into the country. The relief agencies and NGOs in the surrounding countries will need help. Give to them. Because as the Somali people find ways out of the country, they will overwhelm already crowded camps. Educate yourselves. Remember that this famine is a culmination of many things: drought, lack of access to food, corruption, politics, and greed.

For more information, visit Al Jazeera’s spotlight on the drought, the International Rescue Committee, and this blog post about food access.