In the Eye of the Beholder

What could she possibly be looking at?

Knowing my fondness for anything related to the female perspective, friends recently pointed me in the direction of  an article in The Telegraph which paints a depressing picture of female self-esteem. According to a survey conducted by Dove Skincare, only one in every eight women (just 13%) are confident enough to call themselves attractive.

The article (posted on Facebook, naturally) led to an interesting discussion in which we mulled over the pressures women face in attempting to conform to the images presented by society (and the beauty industry) as "the feminine ideal" while trying to maintain a modicum of self-esteem.

It was while discussing my own inner-directed sense of self-esteem that something occurred to me: 

Blogging Reshuffling

Morning everyone :)

My experiment in blogging is going pretty well thus far, thanks in large part to your support (and willingness to read my semi-frequent ramblings).

I'd like to try something a little different, so bear with me here. I'd like to try backing off of the scheduled Monday, Wednesday and Friday posts. It's a little rigid and it makes it difficult to do what you all seem to enjoy the most, which is more current-events-centered (hopefully humorous) posts.

My plan is to continue daily current events posting on my Tumblr and, when I come across something particularly interesting, to post my extended commentary here (instead of the rambling Tumblr posts I've been doing recently - I don't think it's quite the right venue for that). This means that I might be posting here more frequently than thrice-weekly (it also means it might be less, depending on what I find and the demands on my time, but I promise I'll work hard to avoid that).

So what do you think? Feel free to give me your feedback in the comments, it's always much appreciated. Otherwise, look out for more from me very soon.

Thanks again for your support and encouragement (it really means the world),

~MeThinks

The Hunt is Off ... Again

Courtesy of "The Eternal Pantomime"

This morning's Special Early Edition blog post has been hijacked by Ian Alleyne.

Locals: bear with me here.

For non-Trinbagonians out there: Ian Alleyne is the local version of Batman. Or, if you prefer, Captain America. 

I'm only being half-facetious here. In a country which was only able to arrest the spiraling crime rate with a sudden (and poorly reasoned) State of Emergency, in which corruption is so endemic as to become an actual part of the way the society functions, and in which the police service is widely viewed as ineffective and corrupt itself, he and his TV show have become the only hope for justice for crime victims without enough influence to galvanize their neighborhood police force:

You want me to put WHAT ... WHERE? (Pt 2)

So, after wrapping my mind around the concept of Clean and Dry Intimate Wash (a product meant to bleach your vadge to an irresistible sparkling shine), I began to wonder whether something like that could ever take hold here in T&T.

My first instinct (said in the most Trinbagonian way possible) was: NAH! 

Not in the land of oil and music, a place with more beautiful women per square foot than most countries have for miles. Not in a place that manages to embrace women of every shape, size and color with special names for them all (darkie, brownin', reds, tallest, lil bits, rasta, empress, famalay, etc, etc, etc). No way anyone's convincing these women that their vaginas aren't good enough just the way they are.

But then I stopped to think. Beauty insecurities exist everywhere (even, alas, in sweet T&T) and, world-wide, many things previously thought to be extreme are now commonplace, particularly with our neighbors to the north. We all know what happens when America catches a cold. That's right: vajazzling.

So is it possible? Could a product like Clean and Dry Intimate Wash, with all of its insidious implications, take root here? I aimed to find out. After all, inquiring vaginas want to know.

You want me to put WHAT ... WHERE? (Pt 1)

*SIGH*

That (quickly followed by "UGH") was my reaction to coming across a recent Jezebel article titled "Your Vagina Isn't Just Too Big, Too Floppy, and Too Hairy - It's also Too Brown".

After witnessing the disgusting attacks that provoked Ashley Judd into a well-articulated shutdown of the American media and surviving weeks of bigoted Hunger Games Tweets, I had possibly reached my threshold on world-wide ignorance and discrimination. Even when it's being presented by way of the kind of hilarious satirical attack that can only be found on Jezebel.

Still, when the link popped up again a day later in my Facebook newsfeed, I realized that a self-proclaimed news junkie like myself wouldn't be able to avoid it forever.

I was not at all disappointed by what I found.

Interested in a little fiction?

And I do mean a little fiction.

The back-story on this could easily end up being longer than the piece itself.

Many moons ago, a friend invited me along to a Writers Union of T&T meeting. I had a great time and ended up joining, although my crazy work schedule got in the way and I haven't been back in quite some time.

Before I was pulled away, I was challenged to write a short story that included the titles or characters of five other works-in-progress that members had brought along to the meeting. In under 100 words. I didn't make the hundred, but I got pretty close (187, to be exact).

They liked it well enough that they've decided to publish this slightly edited version (and another equally short one) in their next journal.

I'd love to hear your thoughts (extra points to anyone who can guess what the titles/characters were):

***

Smile. (A cure for the Hump Day Blues)

Is it Wednesday already? Goodness, Hump Day kind of snuck up on me there. I guess three short weeks in a row will do that to you. Not that I'm complaining, Lord knows I love nothing more than a long weekend.

Except maybe for Edy's cookies 'n cream, which sort of makes everything better. Everything, that is, except for the funk I've found myself wrapped in for the past few days. Monday's blog post was a bit on the chastising side, I'll admit. I was wallowing knee-deep in news reports of racism, violence and an all-encompassing lack of respect for human life which left me feeling overwhelmed and discouraged. I think I lost faith in the human race for a little while there, as I tend to do once in a while.

Luckily, just when I'm at my lowest, wondering if humankind is more a virus than a race of sentient beings, the internet always seems to throw a little encouragement my way.

I present to you the two hilarious Tumblrs that have restored my faith in the human race:

The Golden Rule

A friend of mine posted this on Facebook the other day.
It's incredibly simple and too often forgotten.

"Do unto others as you'd like them to do unto you"; also known as the Golden Rule. It's the simplest moral code, found in every major religion in one form or another.

It's easy to understand and even easier to do, with a little self-awareness. And yet, sometimes it seems as if almost no one is willing to follow it. When I look around, I see lots of people doing lots of despicable things to each other with only the flimsiest of self-serving justifications. The worst excuse of all - and the one I seem to hear most often - is that other people are doing worse. I cannot imagine how that could justify anything although I can definitely see how it can be used as an attempt to justify everything.

People. Stop what you're doing and just listen for a moment:

Leap of Faith

Like this, but with more clothes and less ... jumping off of stuff.

I'm pretty much your typical type-A female control freak. The only difference between my madness and that of other typical type-A female control freaks is that I do not seek to control others. Only myself. It'd be kind of Zen, if I wasn't talking about being so tightly wound that the idea of being 5 minutes late to work actually makes my skin crawl.

I'm not exaggerating, either. Barring an unforeseen catastrophe, I'm always at least 15 minutes early. I maintain a detailed day planner (or two) in which I write down everything that needs to be done, I'm pretty much a neat freak, and I generally live my life according to a self-imposed schedule. I always have a plan. For everything. And a back-up plan in case the plan fails. And (occasionally, under very special circumstances) a back-up back-up, just in case. I've never had to have a back-up back-up back-up because ... well, I'm just that good.

My Movie Misadventure

After weeks of anticipation, I finally got around to seeing The Hunger Games this past weekend. 


Well, I didn't so much "see" it as manage to be in a theater while it was playing. In what has to be the most absurd set of movie-going circumstances ever, I managed to find myself seated next to a loudly snoring individual and in front of  a group of the biggest morons this country has to offer. Between the two, I managed to see/hear very little of the movie and, as such, I have absolutely nothing to report. Nothing. I can't comment on disappointing costumes (CGI fire? Really?), the poignant or wooden acting (Amandla was très sweet but Kravitz should probably stick to music) or the extra scenes (Seneca got his just deserts but I will forever mourn the loss of that awesome beard). Instead, most of what I remember consists of loudly resonating snores and obnoxious comments from the peanut gallery.

I'm Dancing Alone

Back off, buddy.

Is it weird that I refuse to dance with guys when I go to a club? 

It's not that I can't dance. I can and I do (boy, do I). In fact, despite the fact that I go so rarely, clubbing's pretty much the only exercise I get. I go with the aim of dancing until I can't feel my feet, leaving sweaty and satisfied. I just dance alone.

That's weird, right?

It seemed plenty strange to the guys I encountered this weekend at a local club, none of whom could understand why I insisted on dancing alone. Or maybe they just couldn't comprehend why I refused to dance with them.