The one I get all the time, which I really hate, is if I'm walking somewhere while thinking about a problem I'm working on or something, some guy will inevitably come up to me and tell me to smile.
Hil is me. Only I get the "why won't you smile, sugar?" version. Sad thing is that my instinct is to smile to most Strangers I Want Away From Me, because usually I know that will usually get them away from me faster.
But to this? I want to pull up any grain of attitude I have and go "what the fuck do you think I owe you? Stop harassing me!".
ION, made final changes on my schedule. Dumped China, got Islam, Dumped Israeli Demographics to Society, State and Well Being (which is given in English, and I want to experiment with a class that's given in English.) I'm at my Great Aunt's, and I really need to go to bed now. But my mind is full of thoughts, expectations, fears. Well, I guess they could wait until tomorrow.
Barb, lots of house and calm~ma. Ginger, I'm sorry it went bad; better luck next time!
omnis, baby, why are they working you so hard? Tell them I said you need to eat, too!
San Francisco's Brava theater has the annual Sins Invalid show about sexuality and disability.
I don't remember cat calls but I remember when I was, maybe 10, I was barked at by a bunch of older boys. BARKED AT. It was a Saturday and my brother was playing in a soccer game so I was there at the park killing time.
And in middle school, well that was pretty much hell for me. There was an older boy, my tormenter whose name I will never forget. I had a big zit on my chin, the kind that is more cystic. He decided it looked like I had an std, syphilis. And so he called me Syph. All the time. around that same time I was walking down the road I lived on (it was rural about 1/2 mile long) and I wasn't close to home and some of my male classmates were riding around on an ATV and so the followed me. And yelled things at me. And finally one grabbed a stick and they came up behind me and as they drove by kinda shoved the stick, I think maybe they were trying for between my legs, but they jammed it in my rear. I've never told anyone that. And there was nothing I could do. They finally got bored and left me alone. But for a while I wasn't sure they would
What's crazier to my mind is the fact that the vast majority of sexual assault is not the stranger breaking into someone's home, or dragging the victim into a dark alley, but is committed by someone the victim knows.
Can I ask -- why is that crazier to you?
I'm not WindSparrow, but the stuff that I've been warned against the most is stranger rape. Don't go into dark alleys, poorly lit parking garages, unpeopled parks, because the Bad Man may be waiting there to rape you. The fact that the rapist probably has a key to my office or my home hasn't been brought up by those who've expressed concern. My family wanted to know why I wasn't dating the nice fellas in the community (school, church, family friends) so one of them could marry me and make me safe. But they're as likely to be the danger.
Crazy? Well, at least a message that's discordant with reality.
omnis, baby, why are they working you so hard? Tell them I said you need to eat, too!
Grand opening of a brand new multi venue Performing Arts Center. Trying to load in a show into a theater where the folks running the venue know less than me, and aren't much help, and I have limited access because my company isn't the owners, but the primary renters.
I am taking it easy today. Only worked a couple hours from home today. Tonight is black tie event at the new opera house.
Can I ask -- why is that crazier to you?
It's crazy because all the overt caution messages we get, or at least that I got, involved stranger danger. It's crazy because making connections with people is supposed to afford some protection. But even if we never go out with men we don't know, how likely is it that we can actually get to know all of the men around us well enough to have a clue if they are the kind of men who turn out to be rapists, before we let ourselves be alone in a room with them?
ETA: It's also crazy because our good Buffista guys would never dream of doing that sort of thing, but to a certain extent, it is logical for the women around them (who don't know them as well as we do) to put them in the Schoedinger's Rapist category. Sexual assault happens so often, and it's not just a handful of horrible guys raping their way across the landscape. Chances are, some of the men each and every one of us knows, has done, or will commit sexual assault. Rapists don't look like strangers. Rapists look like men we know, men we speak to every day. That's what's crazy to me.
At Robin Williams concert. May die of paroxysms of happiness.
Me too with paroxysms. Except I'm at SYTYCD.
Can I just say, CHBEEB!
They're using the
Russian Folk Dance
as a running gag. Spoilerfont for anyone going to see the tour.
