Pearl Jam has been my favorite band since 1992. As soon as I heard Eddie Vedder's beautiful, emotional voice, I was in love (with both him and PJ). I saw them live for the first time in 1992 and it quite literally changed my life and it changed who I was (I know that sounds melodramatic, but it's true). So this band means a lot to me. I've seen them many time since then, and every time it's a religious experience for me.This year, I'm taking TJK to Seattle to go see them and I am so excited about it.
Excited to see them play in their hometown, but also excited to go on a little adventure with just the two of us. The Home Shows, as they are being called, are apparently taking over Seattle. The shows' proceeds are being used to fight homelessness in Seattle, so there are a million companies partnering with PJ: Theo Chocolates came out with a Home Shows chocolate bar (I got 2; they are delicious), Heritage Distilling Company is making a Home Shows bourbon (I got a bottle, can't wait for it to get here so I can get white girl wasted on PJ bourbon), Georgetown Brewing is introducing a Home Shows Pale Ale (you can't get this by mail, so I'll be hunting this down once we get to Seattle), Starbucks has a PJ Spotify playlist that they are playing in all (all, not just Seattle) Starbucks stores, and so on and so on. So this isn't just a concert, it's a city-wide extravaganza. I am so happy to be a part of all of this and it feels totally bucket-list. I'm especially happy to be doing this with TJK.
TJK and I have a whole weekend of stuff planned (I actually think we have three weeks of Seattle planned for the two and a half days we will be there, but whatever). We will go to museums and PJ parties and the market and two concerts and and and and and. And, here's the thing: Hubby usually plans all of that stuff out. He is great at timing everything and figuring out how we will get from one place to the next and what time we need to leave X to get to Y so we can be at Z on time. Me? I'm best at researching where to go, what to see, what cool shit is off the beaten path that TJK will get to Snapchat and make her friends jealous.
So I'm a little nervous. We are staying at an Air BnB for the first time and I am so psyched about it - but nervous too, because it's something we have never done so I don't know how to do it and it's gonna be just me. We have timed tickets for three things in one day, but schedules are not my thing and there's no one to keep me on track. We have to get to and from the airports, lugging our bags and lifting them to the overhead compartment. I like to think I am too dainty for heavy lifting of that sort. We have to walk from the Air BnB to the concert, and back. I am nervous we will get lost, or harassed because we are two chicks by ourselves late at night.
With all that said, with all of my doubts and ridiculousness, I know this will be a big triumph. I travel alone when I go away on business and I am perfectly fine. Turns out I am not very dainty at all and can lift the shit out of a carry-on bag full of shoes. I have a good sense of direction and love wandering around alone when I have non-work time on those trips. It's just, I'm spoiled by Hubby taking care of all of this for me. He does so much for me that I take for granted, and the truth is that it is nice to prove to myself that I can do it alone. And, it'll be even better to be able to show TJK that WE can do it ourselves. Two badass bitches in the PNW, ready to do all the things. Sisters are doin' it for themselves.
Showing posts with label confidence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label confidence. Show all posts
Friday, August 03, 2018
Monday, November 09, 2015
#Feminist
So I was in Ashville over the past few days, enjoying a little break from work and the daily grind. We did some hiking, some relaxing, some southern-food eating, and some craft beer drinking. We didn't have nearly enough time to do everything we wanted to do, so we are already planning Trip Number Two to the AVL.
We were in one of the craft breweries down there (and wow, are there a lot of craft breweries down there) when I saw a poster hanging on the ladies room wall:
I posted it on Twitter with an appreciative comment, because really, how can anyone think taking advantage of someone who is intoxicated isn't sleazy besides legit rapists? And I hashtagged it with #feminist because consent is a feminist topic, y'all (I say y'all now, because I was just in the south. I will be back to my usual usage of the Jersey term "youse" fairly soon, I'm sure) and I think it's good for feminists to be able to see that stuff like this is being posted in bar bathrooms. It's some progress and it felt good to share it.
Oh, but I forgot what a misogynistic asshole Twitter can be. I forgot that there are men who troll the #feminist hashtag just to poke and annoy. I forgot that these men have a sad hobby of trying to degrade people they don't even know, simply because a hashtag makes them feel sad about themselves because women have voices too. But I did remember that I don't need to allow them to poke me to get their jollies.
Some mom's-basement-dweller decided that because I posted the above picture with the comment: "Loving Asheville and its anti-rape, pro-consent efforts in bars," he needed to come for me. His first line of attack was to ask if both people were drunk, were both raped? Then, when I wouldn't bite, he told me I was straw-manning him (I think he needs a dictionary) and called me "bad girl." Again, I would not bite and he came back with how I had no argument and that Twitter is not my personal echo chamber (sorry but yes, Twitter is everyone's own personal echo chamber). And then he called me darling, which ya know, I just love from someone I don't even know and who is coming at me.
In the old days (circa probably 2010, 2011, 2012) I would have fought with this person on the internet until he cried real tears because I could not let anyone think I was weak or that they were right. Because really, this poster says very clearly that taking advantage of someone who is intoxicated is sleazy. If I'm drunk and you're drunk and we have sex, neither took advantage so that's not the issue here. Let's focus on the post at hand. If you are going to troll, do it accurately and not like some amateur.
My point is that now, I was able to just say, "Go away, troll" and let it be. I didn't feel the need to get sucked into an online battle of words with a semi-armed person whose opinion means nothing to me. I am sure enough in my convictions and intent that I don't need to defend myself to this stranger.
I think that's maturity, no? Even if it was done while sampling ALL THE BEER the Asheville had to offer?
We were in one of the craft breweries down there (and wow, are there a lot of craft breweries down there) when I saw a poster hanging on the ladies room wall:
I posted it on Twitter with an appreciative comment, because really, how can anyone think taking advantage of someone who is intoxicated isn't sleazy besides legit rapists? And I hashtagged it with #feminist because consent is a feminist topic, y'all (I say y'all now, because I was just in the south. I will be back to my usual usage of the Jersey term "youse" fairly soon, I'm sure) and I think it's good for feminists to be able to see that stuff like this is being posted in bar bathrooms. It's some progress and it felt good to share it.
Oh, but I forgot what a misogynistic asshole Twitter can be. I forgot that there are men who troll the #feminist hashtag just to poke and annoy. I forgot that these men have a sad hobby of trying to degrade people they don't even know, simply because a hashtag makes them feel sad about themselves because women have voices too. But I did remember that I don't need to allow them to poke me to get their jollies.
Some mom's-basement-dweller decided that because I posted the above picture with the comment: "Loving Asheville and its anti-rape, pro-consent efforts in bars," he needed to come for me. His first line of attack was to ask if both people were drunk, were both raped? Then, when I wouldn't bite, he told me I was straw-manning him (I think he needs a dictionary) and called me "bad girl." Again, I would not bite and he came back with how I had no argument and that Twitter is not my personal echo chamber (sorry but yes, Twitter is everyone's own personal echo chamber). And then he called me darling, which ya know, I just love from someone I don't even know and who is coming at me.
In the old days (circa probably 2010, 2011, 2012) I would have fought with this person on the internet until he cried real tears because I could not let anyone think I was weak or that they were right. Because really, this poster says very clearly that taking advantage of someone who is intoxicated is sleazy. If I'm drunk and you're drunk and we have sex, neither took advantage so that's not the issue here. Let's focus on the post at hand. If you are going to troll, do it accurately and not like some amateur.
My point is that now, I was able to just say, "Go away, troll" and let it be. I didn't feel the need to get sucked into an online battle of words with a semi-armed person whose opinion means nothing to me. I am sure enough in my convictions and intent that I don't need to defend myself to this stranger.
I think that's maturity, no? Even if it was done while sampling ALL THE BEER the Asheville had to offer?
Thursday, October 22, 2015
Random Complaint of the Day
I am going to randomly complain about something that drives me crazy.
So you are just a general internet moron, right, going about your business of chatting with other internet morons about stuff that no one but you and the other morons care about. And that's easy to ignore, because WTF-ever, most people pay no mind to people like you. But then, you start in. You comment on this one's weight. You comment on that one's hair. You comment on this one's clothing. You comment that that one is too old to post pictures of themselves in clothes like that.
And then, you comment about how women should stop using editing software because everyone can tell that they used it. Um, okay, what now?
Are imperfect people just not supposed to ever post pictures of themselves? What makes you the arbiter or what is acceptable to post? Is it just what offends your particular aesthetic, and if so, how should people go about learning what your aesthetic is so we don't incur your wrath for having the gall to post pictures of ourselves?
Now this isn't personal to me. I am just speaking for all imperfect people on the internet. I am confident enough (in my appearance and overall) to let these kinds of comments roll off my back if they were directed towards me. This is just a pet peeve of mine, particularly as a woman, because I feel like we should be lifting each other up and not tearing each other down. But look, people are mean and dumb and we just have to ignore them.
But it's really Part Two of this complaint that makes me the craziest.
As you are ripping people to shreds (as bullies are wont to do), your grammar is atrocious. Your spelling is nearly unreadable. You are grown-ass and yet still write like a 13-year-old from 2005 texts So here you are, tearing someone down for their looks while you are showing how stupid you are.
"Y r U soooo ugly postin picx of urself like dat? Way 2 old 4 a bikkini lollll"
Really? If a thought like that goes through your head at any point of your life, you are the last person who should be criticizing anything about anyone, ever. Take a good hard look at who you are and how you live, and then just try shutting the fuck up and fixing yourself.
So you are just a general internet moron, right, going about your business of chatting with other internet morons about stuff that no one but you and the other morons care about. And that's easy to ignore, because WTF-ever, most people pay no mind to people like you. But then, you start in. You comment on this one's weight. You comment on that one's hair. You comment on this one's clothing. You comment that that one is too old to post pictures of themselves in clothes like that.
And then, you comment about how women should stop using editing software because everyone can tell that they used it. Um, okay, what now?
Are imperfect people just not supposed to ever post pictures of themselves? What makes you the arbiter or what is acceptable to post? Is it just what offends your particular aesthetic, and if so, how should people go about learning what your aesthetic is so we don't incur your wrath for having the gall to post pictures of ourselves?
Now this isn't personal to me. I am just speaking for all imperfect people on the internet. I am confident enough (in my appearance and overall) to let these kinds of comments roll off my back if they were directed towards me. This is just a pet peeve of mine, particularly as a woman, because I feel like we should be lifting each other up and not tearing each other down. But look, people are mean and dumb and we just have to ignore them.
But it's really Part Two of this complaint that makes me the craziest.
As you are ripping people to shreds (as bullies are wont to do), your grammar is atrocious. Your spelling is nearly unreadable. You are grown-ass and yet still write like a 13-year-old from 2005 texts So here you are, tearing someone down for their looks while you are showing how stupid you are.
"Y r U soooo ugly postin picx of urself like dat? Way 2 old 4 a bikkini lollll"
Really? If a thought like that goes through your head at any point of your life, you are the last person who should be criticizing anything about anyone, ever. Take a good hard look at who you are and how you live, and then just try shutting the fuck up and fixing yourself.
Thursday, October 08, 2015
Recharge, Reset, Restart
I am in a total funk at work. Well, that's not completely true. In my location, I am totally crushing it. I have been on my game with employee relations, with coaching, and with organizational strategy. I know, this stuff is super glamorous, right? Whatever, I'm good at it.
Where I'm struggling is with my boss. We seem to be like oil and water and I don't know how to fix it. Our personalities just don't mesh well, and she does not appreciate me or what I do or what I accomplish or even what my location does as a whole. At least that is the feeling I get from her.
It makes me not want to be here anymore. I love my co-workers, I love the company, I love the work I do here. But I don't do well with feeling stressed every single time I have to talk to her because I don't know how she is going to react to me. I'm too old to be all jacked up whenever a call with her is on the horizon.
I make a good living, though. And I have a slight purse/shoe/clothing/jewelry addiction. And I love the fact that I can travel pretty much wherever and stay in whatever hotel I want. I don't want to give up the sweet life which I have worked hard to achieve.
I was thinking last night about my passions. Like, if I didn't have to work for the money, what would I do? Where are my talents? What do I enjoy? What would I choose to do in my free time?
- travel
- fashion
- feminism
- craft beer
- music
- problem solving/mediating
Now if only I could find a job where I could solve people's problems whilst in Paris wearing Louboutins, Russian River beer in hand as I fight The Man to the tune of Fugazi's Suggestion.
Sigh.
Where I'm struggling is with my boss. We seem to be like oil and water and I don't know how to fix it. Our personalities just don't mesh well, and she does not appreciate me or what I do or what I accomplish or even what my location does as a whole. At least that is the feeling I get from her.
It makes me not want to be here anymore. I love my co-workers, I love the company, I love the work I do here. But I don't do well with feeling stressed every single time I have to talk to her because I don't know how she is going to react to me. I'm too old to be all jacked up whenever a call with her is on the horizon.
I make a good living, though. And I have a slight purse/shoe/clothing/jewelry addiction. And I love the fact that I can travel pretty much wherever and stay in whatever hotel I want. I don't want to give up the sweet life which I have worked hard to achieve.
I was thinking last night about my passions. Like, if I didn't have to work for the money, what would I do? Where are my talents? What do I enjoy? What would I choose to do in my free time?
- travel
- fashion
- feminism
- craft beer
- music
- problem solving/mediating
Now if only I could find a job where I could solve people's problems whilst in Paris wearing Louboutins, Russian River beer in hand as I fight The Man to the tune of Fugazi's Suggestion.
Sigh.
Thursday, June 04, 2015
Fashion Forward, Part Deux
A couple of posts ago, I wrote about how I was sort of ahead of my time these days on the fashion tip. Friends would mock and judge my fashion decisions (which were really not all that daring...I think they were just used to me wearing jeans and black shirts all the time, the same as they did). I cared a little, but not enough to stop me from looking to the runway and making bold choices. We are going to Chili's for dinner? Ok, sounds like a reason to wear this faux-fur boa collar and over the knee oxblood boots!
Anyway, after I posted that, I had two new experiences that made me reflect on what I had written. One was with the colleague who was hating on my double-ball earrings. I wore them again (well, different pair, different metal, same style). She said, "Oh! You're wearing those again! I have to tell you, I had never seen them before and then you wore them and I didn't know what they were all about, and then I saw Madelyn (a co-worker) wearing the same style! You are both so fashionable, I guess I was out of the loop completely on the weird earring trend." Yes, honey, you are. She went on to say that she realized that when she hated on mine, it was only because it was new to her and now that she'd seen them a few times, they were growing on her. I had a few choice statements for her, which I kept in my head, and I just smiled and told her to just follow my lead if she wanted to keep up.
Then, I was out with the boyfriend of the friend who mocked my capes and statement jewelry a few years back. We were hanging out inside at a brewery and all was well. Then we went to sit outside for a bit and I put on my new favorite sunglasses. He starts laughing and says, "Oh TJG, what are those glasses about? You are so strange!" Mind you, these glasses are nothing crazy. I have way crazier glasses than these! And that made me think for a minute. Anything outside the norm - outside of the black, jeans, simplicity, plainness that people were used to seeing me in for so many years - and I was going to be judged.
But who was judging me, exactly? Were these people whose fashion sense I admired? Were these people who took risks and kept on top of trends and created their own versions of them? Were these people who could stand anything outside of the complete and utter norm? No, no, and no. So why would I even care? And I realized that I didn't...and that in fact. I kind of liked it that these people looked at me funny. Because really, they are stuck where they are, wearing the same tired things they have worn for the 15 years I have known them.
Today: wearing a floor length pleated skirt (TOTALLY outside my comfort zone) that swirls around me when I walk. I love it. And I have gotten so many compliments from everyone I have seen. My goals for getting dressed in the morning are:
Anyway, after I posted that, I had two new experiences that made me reflect on what I had written. One was with the colleague who was hating on my double-ball earrings. I wore them again (well, different pair, different metal, same style). She said, "Oh! You're wearing those again! I have to tell you, I had never seen them before and then you wore them and I didn't know what they were all about, and then I saw Madelyn (a co-worker) wearing the same style! You are both so fashionable, I guess I was out of the loop completely on the weird earring trend." Yes, honey, you are. She went on to say that she realized that when she hated on mine, it was only because it was new to her and now that she'd seen them a few times, they were growing on her. I had a few choice statements for her, which I kept in my head, and I just smiled and told her to just follow my lead if she wanted to keep up.
 |
| Riri wears the same earrings I wear. Or, I wear the same earrings she wears. Are they really that crazy? |
Then, I was out with the boyfriend of the friend who mocked my capes and statement jewelry a few years back. We were hanging out inside at a brewery and all was well. Then we went to sit outside for a bit and I put on my new favorite sunglasses. He starts laughing and says, "Oh TJG, what are those glasses about? You are so strange!" Mind you, these glasses are nothing crazy. I have way crazier glasses than these! And that made me think for a minute. Anything outside the norm - outside of the black, jeans, simplicity, plainness that people were used to seeing me in for so many years - and I was going to be judged.
 |
| Really? These sunnies are that crazy? I think not, and I love them. |
But who was judging me, exactly? Were these people whose fashion sense I admired? Were these people who took risks and kept on top of trends and created their own versions of them? Were these people who could stand anything outside of the complete and utter norm? No, no, and no. So why would I even care? And I realized that I didn't...and that in fact. I kind of liked it that these people looked at me funny. Because really, they are stuck where they are, wearing the same tired things they have worn for the 15 years I have known them.
Today: wearing a floor length pleated skirt (TOTALLY outside my comfort zone) that swirls around me when I walk. I love it. And I have gotten so many compliments from everyone I have seen. My goals for getting dressed in the morning are:
- Feel confident in what I have chosen. This means no tugging, pulling, hiking up, etc.
- Feel good about myself when I look in the mirror before I walk out the door.
- Feel like what I am wearing is a representation of me and my personality.
Today I hit all three of those marks. I don't always. But today, I feel confident, I feel good about myself, and I feel like me. So any of you haters out there: Come at me, bro.
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