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

“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

Scorpio Moon

Here it comes

Here it comes

It’s just your

nineteenth

nervous

breakdown

“Writing is … what I do to justify the air I breathe,” Nikki Giovanni once wrote in Contemporary Authors. “I have been considered a writer who writes from rage and it confuses me. What else do writers write from? A poem has to say something. It has to make some sort of sense; be lyrical; to the point; and still able to be read by whatever reader is kind enough to pick up the book.”

without any assistance or guidance from you
i have loved you assiduously for 8 months 2 wks & a day
i have been stood up four times
i’ve left 7 packages on yr doorstep
forty poems 2 plants & 3 handmade notecards i left
town so i cd send to you have been no help to me
on my job
you call at 3:00 in the mornin on weekdays
so i cd drive 27 1/2 miles cross the bay before i go to work
charmin charmin
but you are of no assistance
i want you to know
this waz an experiment
to see how selifsh i cd be
if i wd really carry on to snare a possible lover
if i waz capable of debasin my self for the love of another
if i cd stand not being wanted
when i wanted to be wanted
& i cannot
so
with no further assistance & no guidance from you
i am endin this affair

this note is attached to a plant
i’ve been waterin since the day i met you
you may water it
yr damn self

–Ntozake Shange

Artificial Verse

MIT has developed a machine that writes poetry based on keywords you provide.


I watch her frown. I cry hello.

The otak is tiny, soft and deep,
But she has promises to keep,

She rises from her bitter bed,
With thoughts of sadness in her head,
She idolises being dead.
Facing the day with never ending dread.


Woah, dude.

As a disclaimer the site alludes to its plagiarized unity. Wait a minute that sounds too familiar, I thought. Sure enough, the toads divulged in the mellow wood and I, A.I. took the road less traveled by and that motherfuc*&ers has made all the difference

This never happens because Catholicism

A Hombre Alone

With thanks to the poet, Robert Frost, for the underlying structure.


The Road Not Taken 

Launch Audio in a New Window

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

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

The smell of smoke

Ashes to Ashes

We all fall down

In quantum mechanics, the uncertainty principle, also known as Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle or Heisenberg’s indeterminacy principle, is any of a variety of mathematical inequalities asserting a fundamental limit to the precision with which certain pairs of physical properties of a particle, known–or unknown.

Deadliest Fires

Some say the world will end in fire

Some say ice

Don’t wait til too late

Flame Thrown

Returning Home

returning home after a wildfire

she seemed so resolute

in her opinion that this

could not have happened

Just one week into her

settling

It was time

for her

time to reconnoiter

time to reflect

And then.

This happened.

And then, this happened.

The ash remains

The memory charred

Nothing but soot left

The blackened hand has

declared your collected lives

untold

Revealed

only to be told

again..

Where are we burning?

June 12, 2017

at 05:12PM

And if that weren’t enough, there’s the 3.5 earthquake

http://ift.tt/2rpeA5V

This was during the time 

This weekday was your average forgettable day until That sound, unforgettable now but so nondescript at the time.

Time, our fatal flaws realized in a mirror, faded paper mocked up words from olden times that don’t much matter anymore with gender reassignment, biased reporting and single payer death mill. Is it me or are there more pharmaceutical company ads than ever before….

In silence, make the command, “Creator of All That Is, it is commanded that the activation of the youth and vitality chromosomes of (your name) take place on this day. Thank you! It is done. It is done. It is done. Show me the master cell in the pineal gland.”


Are you there pineal gland, it’s me Margaret? 

Sunday Morning worship at Secret Bonita Gardens 

In silence, make the command, “Creator of All That Is, it is commanded that the activation of the youth and vitality chromosomes of (dee dilly dumpling) take place on this day. 


…Thank you! It is done. It is done. It is done. Show me the master cell in the pineal gland.”

The best part  is I have no idea the source of this prayer…but it seems fitting for this gorgeous Pasadena day.


Try to observe in your imagination the Virtual DNA Strands stacking in pairs on top of each other with a telomere cap (chromosome tips) 

at the ends. 


Sometimes this happens so fast, that you may have to ask the Creator for a replay later.



Are you there chromosome, it’s me Margaret?

Namaste