Warning

I've been thinking alot lately about making positive changes in my life, doing more not only to better my life and the lives of my friends and family, but the world in general. I don't mean saving the earth single-handedly, but I do mean making little changes in the things I do, making my contribution. By browsing several helpful websites (thegreenguide.net, enerystar.gov, climatecrisis.net) I've compiled a list of practical changes I (and you) can make. Some of them are obvious things I've heard over and over again, others are things that prior to now wouldn't have occured to me. These are all things anyone can do to help stop global warming.

1. Walk/bike as whenever possible

2. Hang clothes to dry, instead of using a dryer

3. Only run the dishwasher/washing machine when its completely full

4. Try using these homeade house cleaning products, rather than harsh chemicals

5. Use fans, instead of air conditioning

6. Use as little hot water as possible. Wash clothes on cold, share a shower!

7. Turn off lights, radios, computers, etc. when not in use.

8. Avoid using disposable and individually packaged products. Instead of ziplock bags and pre-packaged foods, use tupperware.

9. Stop using papertowels and paper napkins

10. Change all household lightbulbs to flourescent

11. When using paper products, like toilet paper, use recycled

12. Buy locally grown fruit and vegetables

13. Buy fresh, not frozen

14. Buy organic

15. Eat less meat

I wish I could key this car, which is parked ever-so appropriately at the gas station. This person lives somewhere in our neighborhood and is always in the same craptastic suburban shopping center when we are. Who paints their Escalade the color of my Nars nailpolish? By the way, who actually needs an Escalade in the first place? I imagine the women that drives this uses the huge gas-guzzling vehicle to hall around her overnight-bag sized pink Coach purse and matching dog carrier, inhabited by some little yappy dog named Fairydust. I'd also bet money on the fact that she prances about town in lounge clothing adorned with slogans like 'baby' 'sexy', and 'princess' spelled out in rhinestones, splitting her time between the mall, Starbucks (for Venti non-fat, sugar free Frappucinos) and the nail salon. Her husband/boyfriend is probably some sort of smoozy salesman, or even worse a Sacramento Kings player.

It takes alot of money to look this spoiled & obnoxious

Beauty in the Raw

8 comments

We as females are always talking about how the media is trying to force us to be perfect- tall, blond, and anorexic with huge boobs, white teeth and clear skin. We’re always talking about how men are so critical of us, how the whole world holds us to unattainable expectations.

One of the things I’ve always liked about Suicide Girls, aside from the fact that they give me gorgeous women to ogle, is the fact that the women they choose are rarely the same women you’d see on the cover of Cosmo or in Victoria ’s Secret catalogue. They’re women with freckles, pale skin, short hair, stretch marks, thin lips, big hips, piercings, and tattoos. Women who might otherwise be considered imperfect. They aren’t all size 4’s, or even size 8’s. They aren’t made-up, coiffed, and airbrushed to death. They look like real girls, girls that might be your girlfriend or your neighbor, girls that despite the lack of photo shop and silicone still have the ability to take your breath away.

Sometimes you look at them and think, her nose is oddly shaped, or what is that mark on her arm? Somehow when we see a picture we impulsively judge, even more so than we would a body on walking down the street; it’s as if our culture decided that only those who are aesthetically flawless deserve to be memorialized in print.

I saw this picture on Suicide Girls today, and it surprised me, I had to look twice, because honestly when else do you see someone showing there cellulite on purpose? I knew there’d be some nasty comments about this, so I scrolled down and to my surprise none of the guys even mentioned it, they all seemed happy to look at her pretty face, cool haircut, and natural sex appeal; they didn’t seem distracted by the fact that she was imperfect. In my experience most guys don't care that we don't look perfect, they think we're beautiful anyway. Disappointingly however, the females, couldn’t help critiquing or suggesting that the photo needed a little airbrushing help.

Lots of women have cellulite, even small, fit women. Jessica Simpson has been photographed showing it on her thighs, as has Paris Hilton. Lots of women have uneven, blotchy skin, or breakouts. Lots of women have hair that doesn't lay perfect, teeth that aren't a Colgate commercial, or boobs that don't defy gravity. All of us have something we don't like about ourselves, and often it's something that save for surgery can't be altered. Why do we hold ourselves and each other to an unattainable standard, rather than choosing to see the beauty in our differences and "flaws". We as women should understand how hard it is pluck and wax and moisturize every inch of ourselves, primp,  straighten and arrange until we are blue in the face and still find ourselves a far cry from the girl on the cover of Playboy. We should realize that not everyone is born with huge blue eyes, long slender legs or Angelina Jolie lips.

Some women are born with good genes and a quick metabolism, and they're lucky. Some people aren't, but that doesn't mean that our imperfect selves should cower in a corner, spouting self-loathings, hiding out in shame of our flaws. It doesn't mean we should tear down each other either, because when we do that, we only tear down ourselves.  

I’m tired of beautiful women insulting themselves; I’m tired of mom’s instilling in their daughters the idea that no matter what we do or how hard we try, we are never good enough.  I'm tired of hearing about 9 year olds on diets, 10 year olds getting their ears pinned back, or parents paying for thier 16 year old's boob job.  

Men are always telling us how much they hate hearing us complain about ourselves or lament that pesky fat on our arms.  It seems normal that we all have moments when we don’t feel our best, or look in the mirror and don’t see everything we’d like to. Couldn’t we start looking at what we like instead? Couldn’t we start learning to love ourselves enough to see what our friends, our husbands and our boyfriends see?

Being sexy means not giving in to that little voice that finds our faults, it means learning to be comfortable and confident, with who we are, saying thank you to take compliments, rather than denying their validity.

So maybe it’s not the media, or men who are to blame for our cultures unrealistic expectations, maybe it’s ourselves. We may not be perfect, but we can still be sexy.

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Book: Show us a book you started reading but never finished.

I feel like the biggest loser not finishing any book that I rarely do it. Even the most torturesome piece of work, is worth plodding through for the mere satisfaction of having done it.  This book however is an exception, regardless of what a "literary masterpiece" it might be,  or how much I enjoyed the film, I could not make myself finish this. It sits in a box, full of dust, unreturned to a certain someone I once dated, in the loosest sense of the word.

A Clockwork Orange

Anthony Burgess

4 comments

It's one of those books that I feel as if I should have read and enjoyed and discussed later over coffee and cigarettes with some cocky pseudo intellectual in a baret, whilst we looked down our noses at a group of blonds sporting micro mini skirts and Ugg boots.

Sadly, this will never happen because I became tired of trying to solve the riddle of imagined words by elimination of context, and merely gave up.

So now you know, I am utterly uncool, without even the ability to comfort myself with the justification that I've become this way on purpose. Woe is me.

This week's challenge: obsequious, striation, tyro, eleemosynary, prophylaxis

She did her best to sneak in unnoticed, and avoid another lecture on the importance of making it to work on time. Tip toeing to her desk with damp hair and makeup case in hand she turned on her computer, pulled out her Studio Fix compact and got to work covering the dark circles under her eyes.

Her mind had been anything but obsequious when it came to giving in to sleep of late, the million thoughts constantly racing around made it impossible to relax. Not that she was any tyro to pain, but this time…it was almost too much to bare. Most nights she could be found lying half asleep on the sofa, clutching her infuriatingly silent telephone while watching infomercials, surrounded by empty beer bottles. Her mind drifted toward the night before when wrapped in a half dozen blankets to mask the biting November cold, the Copper Plated Steel LPG Patio Heater, available for 3 easy payments of $119.99 sounded so incredibly alluring, but alas those living an eleemosynary life can’t expect to bask in luxury, now can they, she asked herself. Instead she’d settled for the body heat of her cat, who’d nestled in alongside her stomach, smelling of tuna.

Snapping back to reality, she starred in bright orange magnetic mirror stuck to the metal shelf that hung above her desk, grabbing a pot of emerald colored shadow, she covered the pain in her eyes with shimmer, and double coats of black mascara. She faked a smile and grimaced at the yellowed appearance of her teeth, wishing there was money for prophylaxis. Time to get to work she thought as she pulled a thick stack of rubber banded papers down from the shelf in front of her and opened the case of favorite Radiohead cd. Pausing briefly to examine the striation of the disk, before inserting in her computer and pushing play. Attempts at focusing for any length of time, were futile. Thumbing through the stack of paper, the inevitable questions began to resonate, how could he do this to her, why had he lied, how could she have been so naïve. All the bitterness and cynicism in the world hadn’t prepared her for the realities of a life that was muddled with shades grey and crimson. All the makeup in the world wouldn’t cover the tracks of her tears.

Thank god, Thom Yorke doesn’t write love songs.

How it works: Write an entry of any length or style using five assigned words. Bold the five words. Tag your post with 5wordchallenge and any other tags you wish to add.

This week's challenge is hosted by catness.
The words: indefinitely, outsmart, phantom, towel, alienated

Here's my entry:

“Do you plan to keep this up indefinitely?” She mumbled, barely missing the side of her hand with the iron. His only response was some type of weak, half hearted excuse, as if planned to irritate her further. She grabbed her blouse and frantically buttoned, while simultaneously slipping into her shoes. Throwing her towel down on the bed, she grabbed her purse and raced towards the door, denying him of the typical morning kiss goodbye. Her stubborn nature had alienated many people in recent years, and a part of her presumptuously asserted the notion that he would be no exception. He followed her towards the door and attempted a one sided hug, feeling outsmarted and out willed, he  gave up on defense and merely said, “I’m sorry. I love you.” Although, she continued to brood during the drive to work, she wasn’t really mad anymore. Melted by his earnest look and warm touch; the irritation had vanished like a phantom.

How it works: Write an entry of any length or style using five assigned words. Bold tshe five words. Tag your post with 5wordchallenge and any otsher tags you wish to add.

Tshe words: veranda, remains, cicadas, miracle, righteousness

here's my entry:

She stood alone on the veranda and set her glass of red down on the rail, feeling cold, despite the setting sunlight that poured through the trees. She welcomed the approaching darkness much less obviously than the humming cicadas. She glanced inside, through the window; the house seemed alive, bustling and glowing with the souls and excitement of dozens of happy people full of righteousness and glee. She couldn’t help but wonder why parties always left this empty ache inside her, the weary remains of a muscle meant to feel. Although, she wanted nothing more than to disappear into the orchard, melting into the trees, she took another sip and pulled herself together, painting on a smile, with the wand from her cherry red lip-gloss. Smoothing her skirt, she inhaled deeply and wondered what miracle could transform her thoughts to match her collected, self-assured exterior.

What's the best way to get on your good side?
Submitted by Manon-It-All.

1. Buy me a beer
2. Mention you like The Cure, Foo Fighters, The Shins, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Bad Religion, Social D or The Clash
3. Make me sandwiches with avacado instead of mayonaise
4. Look me in the eye
5. Compliment me
6. Make fun of me
7. Laugh at the stupid things I say
8. Be okay with making last minute plans
9. Understand my sarcasm
10. Take me to a concert

What are five things you're good at?
Submitted by HapaLove.

 

1. Being sarcastic

2. Telling people what to do

3. Staying up all night

4. Being impulsive

5. Spotting designer shoes

This 5 word challenge is from  Red Pen.

Here's how it works: you get 5 words and with these 5 words you have to write an entry. The words might or might not be related. You decide how to combine them, and how long your entry will be. You tag your entry with 5wordchallenge and whatever other tags you like. Finally, you put the words in bold.

This week's words are: frost, quell, midnight, excavator, carry

Here's my entry:

With steady, deliberate steps the excavator makes his way to the truck. Glancing down at his wrist, he wipes the dirt-smudged face of his watch with callused hand and notes the time. Two arrows point straight up. It's midnight. She'll be fast asleep by now. A deep breath serves to momentarily quell the ache of missing her; not being the one to tuck her into bed with Dr. Suess and kisses. He sets his package on the seat, and begins to scrape the frost from his windows with an old grocery store club card. He'll steal a glimpse of her when he gets home, a piece of innocence to carry off to dreamless sleep.