Ah, the double standard

Humanity sore

The list of double standards women face on their path to public office is plenty long: They should be pretty, but not distractingly so. Assertive, but never aggressive. Maternal, yet devoted exclusively to their careers. And every word that passes their lips should be spoken in a tone, volume and cadence that is pleasing to the ever-alert ears of their audience.

The path to any career not just public office but this was a story about women who run for president.

Now, you may ask yourself, where does it mention her looks? Have you ever noticed how most people when they reference a woman, often list the “way she looks” first in their descriptors, yet for a man, it’s his accomplishments, obvious potential and charming personality traits.

“A real smart cookie” isn’t something you say about the plucky upstart who defied the odds if that cookie is male.

Aggressive v Assertive

In modeling and etiquette school (yes, I was raised in the South with its cotillion and debutantes), we were taught to be assertive. Not aggressive. We were neither at the time, so this was confounding. Some might say liberating. Others, more trouble than it’s worth.

Assertive meant you stopped short of truly making any demands, always maintained a polite comportment with corresponding ladylike demeanor and could be perennially felicitous no matter the occasion. Suffering in silence slowly faded in popularity, and burning your bra was ultimately impractical.

Mother’s Little Helper, the blue pill. Salve for pent up discontent which evolves into aggression, if you don’t quash it early.

Be assertive is code for go ahead, but not too much.

“You’re too emotional.” I wonder how that sliding scale works – for women, it’s voicing any upset over being mistreated. Hysterical is just a few steps away.

But a man? Oh he’s just passionate! He really believes in what he’s saying! This guy’s serious! Give him what he wants! He’s a take charge kind of a guy!

Who does she think she is? She’s crazy! A real hydra! Harpy!

When I was in fifth grade, I wanted to be a CEO. I didn’t really know what they did but they seemed commanding, powerful. Perhaps that merely countered the powerlessness I had endured being molested starting at four years old. Perhaps it was the suits and heels.

At some point around the same time, I wanted, clearly and cognizantly, of sound mind and body, to be President of the United States.

The thoughts all girls have.

Harshly judged

Thursday dusk arrived slow

Don’t waste your time coz I already did!

Quick reviews of the gaps in our apps, human technology.


8 1/2

I disagree
with this headline, you’ll see.

Letter never sent, part 4

bTake what you need and leave the rest. 7:41 pm cool air finally as we wait on Chicago style pizza with onions so you choke!

Review of Door Dash (terrible name)

I don’t like that they ripped off their drivers (now I tip cash) and they got giant start up finance from Saudi Arabia, who should have been chastised for journalist death so that is bad. But. Their service is getting better, I hear the drivers are getting paid and they paired up with square cash which I love. The dash pass isn’t really worth it and I’ve had my food jacked on more than one occasion – literally given to anyone who says yes when driver said are you (name). Yeah, I’m Wanda… So I think they rank 3 after grub hub (better vitals less snafus) and Uber eats which is fast cheap and predictable. So door dash if you order frequently and can take advantage of their promos gets 4 out 5.

“fourth street”

Burnout has been recognized as an official disorder by the World Health Organization. It affects your ability to work [and] your emotions about work.

If that’s the case, I’m entering a period of remission.

Hear me purr.

I’m fragile – don’t let the faint bravado fool you. Scared shitless as they say. A bit apprehensive and a tad overwhelmed to Queen Elizabeth with a spot of tea. I still am horribly polite.

Loaded biased toward a particular outcome, bearing a load, especially a large one

Or the fourth studio album by American rock band the Velvet Underground, released in November 1970 by Atlantic

Who loves the sun?

Burdens like a loaded

Freight train

What gifts would you like to develop

What gifts would you like to develop

“the turn”

an NBA team has never gone an entire quarter without scoring a point.

Take Note of Your Body Language

Ask for company turnover [data] and turnover [data] for that individual manager.

This guy:

  • Inability to handle any confrontation or assertion that there might be another way to do something, even if they brag about their “open door policy.”

Or this chick:

  • If you are need of constant admiration, will cut you when they do not feel appropriately admired, or feel otherwise shamed, humiliated, or disrespected.

Raise your hands if you know this next monster!

  • The Narcissist Bossiere

Don’t let those flannel shirts fool you, this guy can walk into any boardroom with the same aplomb he chops some wood at his cabin in Maine before cooking fresh trout for breakfast. Dave, Jai, Jym, Jin or Jamee – all the same. Great guys until they’re not.

Warning signs –

  • extremely competitive, with the people who work for them, people on their lateral level, or their superiors.
  • Self-Absorption
  • Extreme Friendliness: aka fake
  • Word Choice sets up a dynamic that can raise or lower the energy in a room. If they begin every sentence with a negative message and then try to diffuse it somewhat, it is likely that negativity prevails in their life and carries over into work.
  • stress level telegraphed to everyone in the department- you know the kind, blames you for solutions, misses the dysfunction when it’s gone oft n refered to as drama junkies.

How did we get here?

Um no thank you.

Ya sure?

incredulous at sanity

Ya. Sure.

He returned to Oslo. Killed 77 people while they wept.

You have to tune it out or else go insane, she said, Mona of Numbers and manners from letters.

She sighed. She was not a profiteering overseer and yet she gained innumerable margin from the inevitable failing called death, the suffering of the many at the hands of the few and the way poverty and exploitation of wealth can predict up to a point the ability to express a capacity for love, supporting another being – acknowledging the miracle that is life – this was a given.

She woke up in hell – the job interview.

Job and job

Suffering without uttering one complaint

What most people don’t understand is bench players do influence the outcome of the game greatly

And yet

Here we are

The Infinite Game

#FreeBritney

Birth parents

Today is my 54th birthday. On this day, a Friday in 1965, my mother gave birth to me, the records say, at the Cleveland Clinic in the holy hour (3-4 a.m.).

She was 16, my birth father, 17.

From what I could tell from the “non-identifying” information I was charged $50 for when I was 23,

Seemingly, I had more in common with my father. Height, basketball, class president, a penchant for trains. My mother, who sacrificed a semester to deal with me, was fond of camping and played a musical instrument.

The Children Services letterhead, since the Red Feather agency (I think that was the name) had long since disbanded adding yet another level of erasure to my already amorphous existential origin- the letterhead and contents of this letter are all I have of my heritage, my genealogy, my DNA. Who you would say I am.

Always watched but never seen

Records of our days, cataloged with no sentiment allowed to obscure the meta data (subjective conjecture need not apply) dot the landscape, forming an infinite grid of mortality.

Mortal implies limits, so an infinite grid of solely self-aware beings, our qualia, in particular, not involving anyone or anything else, carries each individual’s uniqueness, believing we are the onliest as our way of coping with the fact that as far as we know, this existence is finite.

I tell you bout the onliest man I knowed come from Virginia.

Self-awareness consciously knows and understands character, feelings, motives, and desires.

feelings, motives, and desires.

There are two broad categories of self-awareness: internal self-awareness and external self-awareness.[3]

External self v Internal self

These mean very different things to you and me.

You see, by our society’s standards, I have no reference for the internal kind. Everything I got I learned without the leg up of familiar tradition, unspoken understanding and qualifying acceptance. In a way, I’ve always had to prove I am not a mistake even though clearly that is all I amounted to in the end, a foolish mistake for my mother to regret.

For some adoptees, particularly those who’ve experienced early childhood trauma such as neglect or abuse, it may be difficult to form emotional bonds. Some studies suggest that adoptees may also be at higher risk for depression, anxiety, learning disabilities, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), or substance abuse.

Me at 22 in NZ

This started as a very different piece but between the narcissist showing me his drawing without caring about my writing kind of interrupted the flow.

The fact that I can’t really ever relax or do something mildly extravagant because I can never seem to get ahead, I’m terrible at getting reimbursed and in general, there are a million things I want to do, see, hear, and learn and chasing down the ability to just survive (it’s been that way for 20 years in the film and television industry) isn’t really my thing-the fact that I can’t really celebrate isn’t where I had hoped to be by now.

I’m tired. Tired of this particular existence that, the longer I live, seems more and more futile. Everything we were told was either a lie or a myth and now I’m in no position to take on the world as I once was, having been severely beaten, tortured and most recrntly mugged and stabbed in the past three years.

That’s not even the half of it. That’s not even what makes me sad. It’s the lack of friends I find myself enduring these days. The sadness just never goes away.

My sixth birthday

Moral Prejudices

Marlin Rand woke up, asleep, a dream within a living nightmare.

You like to daydream, huhn?

Head lost in the clouds.

Are you listening?

Listening not hearing. The world retracts into a distance illuminated by your reflection, the sun shaft reaching that taillight, sending shards of red through the blinds. Why do we call then blinds? Why are screen doors not calls deafs?

The noise is deafening.

The hard drive is named Friedrich Nietzsche, the router Liza Minnelli and the broadband a traveling troupe of Keynesian mechanics with carpetbaggers galore.

Absurd, says Cumquat Jones, the nommedeplume of Tennessee Williams’ unknown soldier.

… his “hypotheses” on the origins of morality to reading his friend Paul Rée’s book The Origin of the Moral Sensations (1877) and finding the “genealogical hypotheses” offered there unsatisfactory.

Nietzsche decided that “a critique of moral values” was needed, that “the value of these values themselves must be called into question”. To this end Nietzsche provides a history of morality, rather than a hypothetical account in the style of Rée, whom Nietzsche classifies as an “English psychologist”[2] (using “English” to designate an intellectual temperament, as distinct from a nationality).

The Extreme Deep Field

2:17 in well you needn’t

Music is math

There is that

Or as she liked to put it

XDF

The extreme deep field

Of you who are not the only one

That’s artificial intelligence

And me

Hey hey hey hey….Alley’s the roughest place I’ve ever been
All the people down there….Livin’ for their whisky, wine, and gin

7 billion light years away

Felt more like 6 million

Closer than
5,500

Gal

Axes

galaxies

How do you exonerate a feeling?

OH to be fooled

is not to play the fool

Be kind heartened

Learn how to hunt your attacker

How can you possibly get enough time

One minute

Then another day

Bad deviations

Sad decisions

Finally make their play

Cher Baker plays

These foolish things

It’s as if he’s the only one who knows

she thinks

not alone

Just isolated

in her own debris

Calibrated to degree

take it easy

3:27

Black eyed peas and rice

XDF is the deepest image of the sky ever obtained and reveals the faintest and most distant galaxies ever seen.

  • An eXtreme Deep Field of Dreams

“XDF allows us to explore further back in time than ever before”, said Garth Illingworth of the University of California at Santa Cruz, principal investigator of the Hubble Ultra Deep Field 2009 (HUDF09) program.

explore further back in

time than

ever before

The universe is 13.7 billion years old.

  • the XDF reveals galaxies that span back 13.2 billion years in time

So, .5 billion years, just unaccounted for (・・?

The early universe was a time of dramatic birth for galaxies containing brilliant blue stars extraordinarily brighter than our sun.

Yet 4,000 jobs will be lost in the industrial North. 4,000 people who aren’t your father, or brother, or otherwise denuded tree of life, stripped of industry by the forces at work at this particular time in this particular place, called Britain, a former great power, whose claim to fame in 2019 is all the fish and watery creatures (eels, loch Ness or Nessie, are filled with coke. Saturated in cocaine. High as Top Gun.

(Free Willy followed Jaws, the Cuba Gooding, Jr. Ididerod movie was made after Old Yeller, White Fang, Benji and light years away from Benji: the Cold War Years and Benji: before the opioid crisis, and other tails…

Mike McGyver arrested as a girl, for drug residue on his overlord plane.

B-b-b-b-buh-buh-buh-benji and the Feds

The light from those past events is just arriving at Earth now, and so the XDF is a “time tunnel into the distant past.”


The youngest galaxy found in the XDF existed just 450 million years after the universe’s birth in the big bang.
  • The light from those past events is just arriving at Earth now, and so the XDF is a “time tunnel into the distant past.”
  • just 450 million years after the universe’s birth in the big bang, baby Galaxy was born in a morgue

1-light is a slug;

2-time tunnel?

3-how distant past?

Life = get addicted, go to detox tough love

When I’m rushing on my run

And I feel just like

Jesus sun

How is it this way we’ve become

Gentleman fentanyl

Bogieman grief

Set-up just

to set ‘er down

Lie to disguise

Gave the blues

you choose

HEROIN &

subpar

DNA

Safehouse for the Muses,

I’m

Humming along

Bring a disruptor

Take a micro dose

of the American dream

and check your notifications in the morning

reality is nothing more than our dreams turned into banalities.

Jamake Hightower, Primal Mind

honky hanging

Cracker Barron

of munch house

oh yeah

He died

Didn’t he

Overdose?

Bunch of em showed up

All two of Em

Including nine multiple personalities

Didn’t he allegedly burn up in a car

A pacer in fact

Completely in tact

Larger than life

King boy georgette

Of long lines

and razor blades

Everything was escaping

From what now is a

vacant lot

Lit up

Fragmented

Held up high

expectations

Abound

Relentlessly

Sold

As long as there’s a

Buyer

He grinned

Chimmm chin charooo

So scary he was

And the circus tents at

State fairgrounds

growing up right by

the women’s state “farmand

across the James

schoolyard

straight coordinates

down stream

The men’s penitentiary

My mother would drive through ” these aren’t the violent criminals” hills while my brother and I took that shortcut more than we should. And driving recklessly he was, always in that 74 dasher we drove into the ground between Henrico and the independent city of Charlottesville.

Of the 41 independent U.S. cities,[1] 38 are in Virginia, whose state constitution makes them a special case. 

#FOMO

you’ve invaded my brain go away

Today

What you give away

It occurred to me the other day that you might be lying about whether Ray Ray was a pathological liar.

Aren’t all junkies?

Creeps.

No. I was gonna say, everyone’s favorite junkie a premiere funky who gets sulky in his freewheeling scene -stealing calamide lotion staring down the street while you pop those friggled uptown

home of the brave my ass I heard her say as you walked away

But save that for another day

Sing the song of truth

No one knows your name

Bring in

calamity Jane

Citizen Kane

Nathaniel Zane

What?

Are you insane?

Some people call me loco

Mean Jean Feline

Coke machine

Powerful but

enamored

with the “wrong”

Crowd