Tag: social class

It’s Okay to be Mean to People Who Hate You

Hello, Dear Readers. It’s been a long, long, time since I’ve blogged. I’ll be honest, the Kavanaugh hearing kind of broke me. I wrote up nearly a thousand words about it and just couldn’t see it to the finish line. It was just too fucking hard.

Now before we get into things, I don’t normally do a content note, but if you’re just trying to keep your shit together, this may not be the thing you want to read today. Content Note: rape culture, anti-choice bullshit, fuckheads

So what could bring me back to blogging about politics of all things?

Righteous anger!

Continue reading It’s Okay to be Mean to People Who Hate You

The Pressures of Masculinity – Part 1

It has become relatively common to hear that patriarchy hurts everyone. While I generally believe that this is true, I’m usually hesitant to talk about it because the concept seems to invite a rather unhelpful dialogue. Often “Patriarchy hurts everyone” translates to, “That’s enough women talk; let’s get serious and talk about men! You know, the real people.” I’ve seen people make the argument that men were and are historically treated worse than women, that the patriarchy hurts men because without it they would get laid more, that feminism also hurts men, etc. It usually doesn’t behoove me to spend the energy trying to wade through it all.

So why would I talk about patriarchy hurting men? I’m obviously not too keen on it. Well, I stumbled across this poor guy’s Internet cry for help:
Continue reading The Pressures of Masculinity – Part 1

Anxiety & Cleaning Up

Mr. Squish and I are in the process of a profound decluttering of our living space. We’re following the guidelines from The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing. The book is simple, non-judgmental, and the process has been effective thus far. One of my main hopes after finishing this endeavor is that I will no longer be anxious about having people over.

I have a tendency, despite my best efforts, to hold onto stuff. I don’t love stuff, but I hate sending things to a landfill or re-purchasing items. (That raggedy, old shirt did an admirable job of hiding my torso. Why would I buy another one just because I “liked it.”) The stuff piles up until there’s nowhere to hide it. I have to use a lot more effort to clean because I’m shuffling all the stuff around, which ultimately means I don’t clean as often as I feel is necessary.

I’m not living in a dump or anything. My apartment is a very far cry from those who have problems with hoarding. I have a reasonable base-level of cleanliness. I want it to get better, but it’s reasonable. However, the mess is enough to make me anxious when people come over.

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