October 2008 Archives

I'd heard about the imminence of this campaign a while ago, so I'm glad to report that I have now see one billboard and one bus shelter poster. I'm looking out for more. If you do click through to the comments on the site, please be careful. I looked at one bit and haven't sworn quite so much in a while. Evidently, the MRAs are out in force, disproving their own point, as usual.

Anything else that I could say about the campaign is pretty much covered by Rape Crisis Scotland on the website, so have a look. Take the quiz.

Right, so. I've been signed off my work with depression. It's that bad just now. I haven't had the wherewithal to blog, though I've been trying to keep up to date with my google reader. I've read plenty of things that have wound me up and gotten me angry and annoyed and would usually have me pounding away at the backspace key as I go back and correct my spelling. That's the nature of my depression. Anyway. I've always had doubts about Feministing; I don't feel that they're very representative of feminism, beyond a very narrow middle-class American view of it. The F Word irritates me sometimes because it feels like the rest of the UK outside of London kind of drops out of existence quite often. Frankly, the Glasgow Feminist Network bothers me because the meetings are womyn-only (I think), and always in the university. While I was still at uni, sitting in the Student Union made me feel old and out of touch. I don't think it'll be any better 7 years later. (I know, instead of whining about it, maybe I should do something about it, no? Any suggestions, feel free to drop them in comments...)

See, my thing is that feminism is for everybody. No matter your genetics, your lifestyle, your politics, your choices. So, flicking through the reader and reading Date Local. on Feminsiting really annoyed me. And I feel somewhat exaspirated. Basically the post reads as "Slate published this article about the potential impact of LDRs, I agree because I've been through it and it was shitty and nothing good ever happened, and because I think that, I'm going to write a piece that basically denegrates those who choose to participate in LDRs, regardless of the outcome."

Miriam is certainly entitled to her opinion. I'm sad that her LDR ended so badly that she feels that way about all LDRs. If she wanted to write a fairer assessment of the Slate piece (full disclosure; I haven't read it. I fear I wouldn't want to, based on the quoted segments in conjunction with my personal feelings about LDRs) she could have recalled why she entered into an LDR. She could have pointed out that this was her opinion, but that she appreciates that others, especially those currently in LDRs, will feel differently. No, instead, she writes that

"I've been joking with some friends of mine about wanting to start a campaign against long distance relationships."

Yeah, because to joke about restricting peoples choice in who to date and love? Funny. She then continues

"Constantly missing your significant other, spending your life on the phone, always counting the days until you see them, or the days until you have to say goodbye again."

I know these feelings intimately, and have cried countless tears in airports and alone in my room. But I knew the risks. And, well, the benefits by far and away outweigh even one of those tears from Glasgow airport. But there's no mention about the positive aspects in Miriam's piece, the joy of unexpected emails and photos, the excitement of knowing that your partner is on their way to see you, the impatient excitement of wanting to get off the plane and through passport control and into the loving arms you know are waiting already. The unrivalled joy and happiness of finding that one person that you barely let yourself hope existed, because all your previous attempts at relationships ended in ways describable as bad, awful and worse.

To read the article, those of us who get into LDRs are consigning ourselves to a period of misery and heartache that will only come to an end when the relationship does. It doesn't work like that, not every time. Anyway, isn't it each person's choice to decide whether or not to continue with a relationship? Or does choice only apply to things like voting and abortion? I musta missed that memo from Feminist HQ...

Happy Love Your Body Day, folks.

I'd be lying if I didn't say that there was times where I felt down about the squishy bit on my tummy, or the wobble of my upper arms, or the chins that appear in photos when I grin. But you know what? I like to eat ice cream. I have an alarming capacity for crisps. I don't like feeling hungry, and I find that it affects my mood. Something that I have to take medication to keep on an even keel as it is. So, no. I'm not going to be a size 10. If I get depressed and lose my appetite (not how it's working just now, mind you) I might make a 12. I really would be thin and unhappy. No amount of cosmetics or fashion would make it better. Which is true regardless of what size my waist is.

Anyway, aren't there more important things for us to be expending our energy and resources on?

Anyway, that's a photo of me that I like. Behind me is a panoramic montage of photos of something far more important than whether my thighs rub together when I walk.

It's an old poster from earlier this year, but still. There's shirts!

So, I logged in to my WoW account.

I had the form letter from a GM waiting for me, so I thought I'd check the Armoury. The guild is now named Guild of Bananaskall, ie Guild of [Guild Master's Name]. Credit where it's due, it took Blizzard less than 12 hours to fix that one! The guilds on the other 2 servers are still existent, but the GM I contacted might not be aware of that. They will be soon...

Thing I'm curious about is, were the members of the guild made aware of their transgression? Have they been suspended? Looking at the Blizz naming policy page, it falls under highly inappropriate. The name's changed, none of the players are currently online. But only two were last night, out of the four or five members. Which also leads me to wonder, what happened when Bananaskall was getting his guild charter signed? Did the other people who made up the initial 10 just not read the charter when they were asked to sign? Something tells me he'd be the kind of player who'd just randomly click on unguilded players and harrass them into signing without asking first. Can't think why I think that, just a feeling...

Anyway, thank you, unknown Blizzard empolyee. You've made my day and restored some of my faith in both people and corporate greed.

So, while not-blogging, Ken and I play WoW from time to time. It was a big thing for us while we were apart, it helped us to feel a bit closer and spend time together and so on. Pilf, Fiat, you know what I mean.

But lately, the shine's coming off. A player named Mongokiller waltzed past a couple of weeks ago. I'm aware that 'mongo' may mean things other than Mongoloid, which itself is offensive. But a cursory glance at a google search for the term makes me wonder if it would be any less offensive to name ones avatar the killer of a small town in Indiana or a large ethnic group in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. I contacted a GM and they said that they'd investigate it. I know that they'll do nothing, because one little voice versus £9 a month? I know that Blizzard are pretty much just out for the money. I've been having an internal debate on whether to cancel my subscription and stop playing altogether, as I'm hideously uncomfortable being any any place where blatant ableism is condoned. Especially when I'm paying for the pleasure.

So when Ken pointed out a player riding past this evening, member of a guild called SappedGirlsCantSayNo*... I've contacted a GM and that guild had better be gone soon (and the two other guilds of the same name on other servers) or not only will we be cancelling, I'll be pretty fucking vocal about it.

*for non-WoW players, or WoW players who have never rolled a rogue - Sap is a move that you can put on enemies (who are not in combat) to knock them out for a while. While sapped, they can't do anything as you have a pretty good go at killing them. The delightful irony in all this? My favourite class to play is rogue...

via Alas! A Blog

I have no idea who Ms. Australia 2008 is, but my goodness, she's funny. And the race thing applies world over, too. She could be talking about the BNP. (Yes, those people are real. And they almost certainly read the Daily Male.)

For my part, I fully intend to partake of some voluntary miscegenation and have a few mixed-ethnicity babies. At least one. We'll see how painful and strsssful it is, then go from there. But anyway. In a very roundabout way, this brings me to an event from last week that I meant to record earlier. I was on the bus to work for my last visit of the evening on Saturday (possibly Friday?) when a family got on board. Mum, Dad, two small children (about 4 or 5 years old; little girl in various shades of pink, little boy in blue jeans and hard-wearing blue clothes) and a smaller child in a pushchair. Mum sat down in the single seat in front of me, the children sat further up the bus and Dad sat down next to me. He was a well-built man, I was a bit squished into the side of the bus and the window. He made absolutley no attempt to scooch over to give me any space. His white, het, male privildge was taking up the space. It soon emerged that he had paid £10 for the tickets, on a no-change-given-service. Mum and Dad bickered back and forth, and he went and eventually spoke to the driver. After saying to his wife, and I quote:

"He doesn't speak English anyway."

The driver, for the record, was Asian, possibly Pakistani. Which in this part of the world means that he's spent his entire life in Glasgow and probably had a stronger local accent than Mr. Casual-Racism 2008. Additionally, something tells me that bus companies might possibly check that their employees can communicate with the passengers, what with it being part of the job and all... But when you've been as stupid as to pay far too much into the no-change hopper and only have yourself to blame, white man privilidge means that it's A-OK to make up pathetic and hateful excuses. Apparently. Especially as it turned out that he did have the correct fair, after all.

I forgot to mention in that last post that, while catching up with Hoyden About Town, I came across a link to someone who was looking for feminist bloggers to interview for a project. What with being a feminist blogger and all, I've filled out the survery.

Also, I forgot that I'd asterisked 'router', too. Then Blogger decided to play up as I published the post, so I couldn't go back and edit at the time. Anyway. Router. It has been the source of much discussion chez Depresso; I've been saying it in a decidedly Scottish way, "rooter". That's not right, apparently. In my defence, 'out' is often pronounced 'oot' about here too.

So, I've been not-blogging. You may have noticed. I guess it gave you all time to read all the links in that last post that I wrote. While you've been doing that, I've moved house (and neglected to tell Sally where so far, sorry!) and was without internets for about a week or so. We were expecting the break to just be a couple of days or so, but no; it turned out that Virgin Media had sent our router* to the wrong address. How they managed that, I'm not sure - I know that I wrote in the correct one on the online form thing. And the other corresspondence has certainly arrived just fine.

Anyway.

Besdies this, I just haven't felt much like writing much for the past few days. There's not a lot I feel like saying, other than I really, really, really want a new job. My always-delightful boss has thus far neglected to inform me of the new office address or number, which I feel underlines how much a part of the team I feel. I'm as close to just calling up and saying I've had enough and won't be back as I can be, without actually picking up the phone. Still. It's not all doom and gloom. I've just emailed an application for a job that sounds quite interesting and might actually be what I was hoping this job would involve more of. More to follow on that one, if there's anything to report. After the endless circuit of interviews and knock-backs of last year, I've had both my confidence and my hope significantly reduced.

Turns out I can't even muster enough positive feeling to even hope that I'll get anything other than a 'thank-you-for-your-interest-but-your-experience-doesn't-match-our-criteria' form email or letter.

I feel sodding depressed.