PADeitsch Grrl's Open Salon Blog

Coming to peace with high school through Facebook

Tue, 1 Dec 2009 13:12:33 -0500

I know, sounds stupid, doesn't it?

My dearly beleaguered husband has tried hard to grasp the value I find in Facebook. He just cannot understand why I would want to get in touch with people from high school. Even he, who loved high school and had mostly positive experiences, cringes at the thought. His past is a closed chapter. Mine should be too, by all accounts. I did not have a single net positive year from Kindergarten through twelfth grade. It took me years after high school to figure out how not to be defensive or confrontational or severely awkward (and admittedly, I can fall back into those old habits sometimes.) Why on earth would I want to get back in touch with people from back then? People who bullied me for thirteen years?

That was the topic of an article on Salon yesterday. The author's view resonated with me, but I would like to take it for another spin, especially after reading some of the comments.

Being bullied for my entire school career wasn't just "a bad experience" that can be left behind. It doesn't stand in isolation like a bad relationship or a period of self-destructive behavior. That doesn't mean that I think about it constantly, mourn the childhood I "could have had" or feel like my entire life was writ by it. But no matter how well I have "grown beyond it" or "become stronger than that" or any other feel-good (and generally true) attitude, the truth is - it will always be a huge part of my past. I can't consider anything from before about age 18 without recognizing how that context colors everything. I closed the chapter but that didn't erase the text. So why would I want to revisit it, to reconnect with people who bullied me or stood by while I was being bullied?

We were all different people then. I am not the person I was when I was 16 or 12 or 8. The person I was then occasionally amuses me, often embarasses me, and mostly makes me wonder. The hormones, they were a'ragin', teh dramaz, they were high. We were smart enough to think we knew how the world worked, but so inexperienced that we didn't know what we should or could do with that knowledge. We were struggling to figure out the social thing without healthful guidance. I know I sometimes treated people poorly - either out of self-defense (or preemtive strikes) or due to poor behavioral modeling, or because I didn't know better yet, or because nobody bothered to redirect and teach us all any better. I see it now with adult eyes and wonder how we all managed to be locked in that high school together without exploding. I may have been the plankton of the social food chain, but I'm not sure anybody was truly at the top of it. Everyone felt like they were somewhere in the low-to-middle range and were clawing to make sure they didn't fall lower and get eaten.

I know I am not who I was then. I can see that in a million different way. Not superficial ways - in most superficial things, I'm pretty recognizable. I still whisper Rocky Horror AP lines under my breath at totally inappropriate times. I still play The Smiths at high volume so passersby don't get the wrong impression about me because I drive a minivan. No, in deeper ways. I cringe to think about the opinions I had about children and parents (all the while thinking I was a person who liked and understood kids) before I had some of my own. I just didn't get it back then. There are other examples, but I'll stop embarassing myself now.

That made me wonder, what kind of adults did my peers (I can't say friends, and hate to reduce them to just tormentors) grow up to be? Surely they are no more the childishly cruel demons of my youth than I am that childish creature. They are now adults, too - college graduates, business people, parents. People who, in most cases, honestly regret being a part of that cruel network; people who felt as locked in by it as I did; people who were so wrapped up in their own fears about their social position that they didn't even realize what they were doing. People who were violently struggling not to be hurt by it themselves, and generally failing, although I was in no position to see their struggle because of my own. People who are now suffering with their own children as they struggle through the same cruel stage.

I believed, and found to be true that everybody else has grown up just like me. I spoke to a woman I never thought I'd see again - live, in person, over a glass of wine while my kids played WII in her living room. We discussed her memories and regrets of that time, her own struggles that almost destroyed her life which I was in no position to see at the time, the fact that she is now a youth counselor who lectures on bullying and her memory of my being bullied has always been eaten at her.

Growing up and leaving it all behind did happen, but I didn't realize it wasn't complete until Facebook. When I saw that my bullies no longer exist and we were all reborn as adults, it finally threw the bolt in the door. I'm not looking for a second shot at being BFF with the cool kids from high school. I'm happy with my social life these days, and am now strong enough to recognize and call on the table the remnants of childish behavior that crop up now and then. Learning about those people as real live, hoping, hurting, loving, struggling humans, then and now, has allowed me to see them and myself with more compassion, which is an inherently peaceful feeling. I didn't "Friend" these people to pad my list of friends (electronic or psychological). I friended them because it was taking the high road for peace. It's been rather beautiful.

Why no hue and cry over the Holocaust shooting?

Thu, 11 Jun 2009 15:06:54 -0400

A friend on a forum asked why there was no outrage among the "good Amurrican" types who expound so passionately upon non-domestic terrorism. In quick succession, we've had the UU shooting, Tiller's murder, and now the shooting at the Holocaust museum. They have some pretty damning factors in common: the criminals were domestically produced, all were done explicitly in the name of conservative values and against liberal ones, and all failed to rally nearly the public excitement of crimes performed by "other kinds of people".

It's easy to pass this off as run of the mill dumbass hypocracy, but when we stop pigeonholing people blindly we may realize that they're the same people who give us a smile and an awesome chicken cheesesteak at the diner, or lovingly help out a kid when she scrapes her knee on the far side of the playground from Mom, or go out of their way to give anyone a ride home after a car breaks down. Understanding that, knowing these people are members of your, yes, your and my own community, we may feel compelled to root out a deeper, more complex, more human understanding of this tendancy. I am disgusted by this the lack of stance taken by the majority of the American public on these violent acts, especially those people who take such a virulent stance to acts of violence perpetrated by non-Americans. But more than anything - I am confused by it. How can people not see the terror implicit in these acts? How can they not compare it to the non-domestic terrorism that has people wiling to give up all their civil liberties and go on murderous rampages in other countries?

The simple answer is, they don't want to admit to what's in their own back yards. They don't want the bad guy to be their neighbor, so they're going to turn a blind eye to it.

I think it's a little more complex than that.

The "average American", or at least the loud-mouthed type of American who likes to claim exclusive ownership the label, can sympathize with the core beliefs of the criminals in these cases. They may not approve of the extreme actions taken, may even be upset and disgusted by those actions. But they are fundamentally able to identify with the person because they hold similar beliefs, come from a similar background. That moderates their emotional reactions toward the action and the perpetrator.

When a poor man breaks into a home and steals a television to sell it for food money or cigarette money or drug money, those of us who've been in poverty can empathize with his desperate act to feel normal (or even to survive). We may not approve, we may not be eager to commit those crimes ourselves, but at a deep level we can empathize with the human. The value of that empathy is the recognition that we will never solve most crime through punishment, but only through fixing the root causes. That doesn't mean that punishment has no value - but we realize it's a band-aid, not a solution. Whether it's natural empathy for someone similar to us, or intentional, learned empathy for someone whose life we don't understand (like terrorists from third world countries), those "True Americans" refuse to recognize the value in empathy and opening ourselves to other people's experience.

Those same people who are failing to speak out against the Holocaust museum shooter or Tiller's murderer like to sneer and call us "bleeding heart liberals" and claim that this empathy is a cover for giving certain people a free pass to victimize us. The irony is, this is exactly what they are doing subconsciously in these cases where the criminal is one of their own. They are honestly disgusted and disapproving of the severity of the action. But they cannot get worked up in a righteous rage about it because they can fundamentally empathize with the criminals, their rationales and their lifestyles.

Worse, and this they do not have in common with us bleeding-heart liberals, they are forced to face the fact that their own promotion of extremist viewpoints and lifestyles are partly to blame* for these people's choices about where to snap and enact violence. I'm sure that fact is niggling under the surface for every Bill O'Reilly fan out there. They don't want to let that niggling voice out from under the pillow where it's stuffed. If these people were to enter the public forum, they would be forced to face that fact, even called to account for it publicly. That recognition would be just too painful, so they refuse to risk it.

*No, conservative or extremist rhetoric does not make someone into a homocidal maniac (any joking aside). If someone is destined to have those particular neurons snap and turn them into a gun wielding freak, that's going to happen whether they're listening to Rush Limbaugh or Thom Hartmann. But we can't deny that circumstances and the active encouragement of extremist social systems can give direction and encouragement instead of discouragement and aid to someone who's on the edge. That same extremism could theoretically be of the liberal sort... but in our country, is there any question, any doubt that rallying rhetoric is almost entirely of the conservative type?

OS issue, and "problems" email addy not working

Fri, 1 May 2009 19:05:25 -0400

I'm having profile issues here. I'm hesitant to spam everyone with them, but I think they might interest other folks here. Some of you may want to go into your profiles and make corrections.

I tried going to the "help" area for this, where I found the contact email addy to be problems@salon.com. When I emailed that address it bounced. So I don't seem to have any technical recourse.

I noticed that my display name was messed up: where it should have said "PaDeitschGrrl", which I had set as my first name, it was saying "PaDeitschGrrl padeitschgirl", appending my username to it. Ok, random computer glitch. I went into my user info to see if I could fix it.

Not only had my "Last Name" field been changed to show my username, but my zip code field had been changed to show my PASSWORD. I, of course, repaired this and changed my password. I also corrected my first and last name.

Since the last name field was now marked as required, I split my display name into "PaDeitsch" in the first name field and "Grrl" in the last name.

Now my name shows up that way in the user info, but does not display that way on screen. It still says "PaDeitshGrrl padeitschgirl", despite the fact that I deleted those names.

Color me frustrated.

And go check your own profiles.

Car accidents sound nothing like they do in movies

Fri, 1 May 2009 18:05:55 -0400

No, I was not in an accident today. But I witnessed one, and I can still feel the sound in my core. I've seen a good few accidents in my day, but today's was probably the worst. It was bad enough to close Rt. 100 in both directions during rush hour. I've only had a few personal experiences with car accidents, obviously thanks to some patron deity as I have hardly been cautious in my life, and they've all been minor. They were still terrifying. I recall the same impression of noise and emotion when I was inside the car as today when I was an observer.

I saw today's accident from a distance. I heard it more than I saw it, really. I was standing in the parking lot of Michael's Crafts when someone hit another car on Rt. 100. The lot is an average suburban big-chain-store strip mall lot, making the highway only a few hundred feet away; but the lot was dug low to level it so the road is up a high berm. I didn't see the crash itself, but I saw the cars spinning and sliding away after the impact, people trying to regain control of their vehicles and other people trying to avoid hitting them, folks pulling over to help.

In movies, an accident sounds like smashing glass, screeching metal, squealing tires. Sounds that keen, cry, scream. Sounds that heighten your senses, make you feel like you are (or would be if it were you in the accident) alert, hyped, adrenaline-rushed to react. They go on a long time, then they go silent.

In real life, the sound is a deadened thud that you feel deep in your soul, that takes your breath away. It's a deep, guttural crunch. There may be a little tinkle of glass or a brief squeal of tires, but those pale in comparison to the BOOM of the crash itself. It is a crunch of metal on metal, but it's so deep and vivid that it feels in your gut like a crunch of bones. When something so violent comes out of nowhere, at first it feels like you must be mistaken, that didn't really happen, you misheard something; then you feel like you were tackled by it.

The world does not go silent afterward. Life around the accident goes on as normal, which feels surreal. Everybody who felt the boom is still shaking, still feels the vibration in their guts, knows that the world just changed inexorably even if it's for total strangers. Yet birds are still singing, engines and tires are still humming, radios are still playing.

Fortunately, my girls were already in the store. I'd stepped back out for something I'd forgotten. They didn't have to see or hear it. I'd been having a grumpy and stressful afternoon and had been struggling to stay on an even keel with the girls. When I went in the store and saw them playing with some of the Schleich figurines near the door, my grumpiness evaporated and I was so thankful they were there, safe and happy.

My thoughts and love go out to the people who were in those cars that crashed today.

Dear Bra Manufacturers,

Sun, 5 Apr 2009 20:04:46 -0400

Just because my hooters are bigger than 34B, there is no need to assume that I am matronly or staid. I have no interest in bras in any shade of ecru, because that color starts out looking faded and old and will pick up sweat stains and look gross in no time flat; nor a bra that is built with more fabric than my wedding gown to keep The Girls demurely restrained come hell or high water. Women who have Boobs with a capital B are still sexy and playful. Those traits do not disappear when one's cup size increases by an inch. We, too, want bras that reflect how we feel about our bodies. It's awfully hard to feel sexy when you take your shirt off to expose ta-tas strapped into something with more coverage than a parka in a color akin to overcooked brown rice. When you're stuck behind a desk in work clothes all day, it's hard not to begin to feel like you really are the boring office drone you play; knowing you have a chartreuse and fuchia plaid bra underneath it all helps you keep focus on the things that are important in life.

When I go bra shopping, I see rack after rack of bras that are sexy or playful and cute. I finger tags hoping that maybe, just this once, I may find one that approaches my size (which is not that amazingly huge - I'm only a 38DD.) I know my size will not be represented on any of those racks, but I can't help myself. They're so cute, so flirty. With a sinking heart, I work my way to the place where bras my size are not displayed but are warehoused. They are not hung on display racks high enough that you can browse styles at a glance, but crowded onto industrial racks at the very back of the department. For some reason these racks are only waist high and I invariably have to kneel on the floor to dig through poorly organized, tightly jammed bras that were designed by someone who thinks they know what old ladies want (though I think that both of my grandmothers would have worn cute brown bras with pink polkadots if they'd had the chance.)

I understand there are some difficulties in play here. Many of the sexy bras are sexy because of their brevity. Even my relatively unimpressive 38DDs would spill out of a demi bra in a way that would render it's sexiness moot. The weight of a large rack will stress the elastic of narrow bands and shoulder straps, causing the bra to become shapeless and nonsupportive after relatively few wears. The former issue, I concede. The latter, however, I am willing to work with. I don't need to wear sexy bras around the house every day. If it's only going to last 20 wearings, I'll wear it once every couple of weeks on dates. Further, there are other ways you can accomplish sexiness. I've seen some lovely things done with smaller bras involving lace or creative styling that would be entirely appropriate in larger sizes. But for some reason the only thing applied to larger bras is a lace panel between the cups - and that only very rarely.

Sexiness is not the only thing missing from larger sized bras. Simple, cute or playful bras for everyday wear would also be appreciated. There seems to be no shortage of them in smaller sizes - comfortable, supportive every-day bras that happen to have cute prints or a pretty lace edge on the cups or some clever styling for the connecting piece between cups, or are simply an unusual color. There is no reason in the world why the same styling could not be applied to larger sizes. No reason, that is, except that the manufacturers have either underestimated our tastes or deemed us unworthy of such style.

I know that if I search hard enough, I could find what I'm looking for somewhere. In my experience, though, bras at "plus size" shops are itchy and poorly made, and grossly expensive. Bras in mall bra boutiques are the same. Bras in serious bra boutiques are astronomically expensive and really designed for the very, very large chested woman (i.e. the 38Ms of the world.) I'm glad those boutiques are there for the women who need them, but I can't afford to pay $150 per bra for a level of engineering that I do not need. And why should I be content to drive all over creation to find a single bra at a king's ransom when women with one pound less boobage can walk into any store and find dozens of appealing options - many of them on sales racks?