Sometimes going ugly early works out for the best…

I have a few things on my mind this Tuesday morning, the last day of February 2023. These things are kind of loosely related to each other, but maybe I can make them fit in today’s blog post. I beg your indulgence, because I probably won’t have a second original post in me today. On the other hand, it’s only 7:30am, so who knows?

A couple of days ago, I wrote a post about how a picture of a defunct brand of beer led me to an unexpected place. That post hasn’t generated a lot of reads. At this writing, no one has commented on it. I suspect maybe one or two of the few people who read it might have quit before they got to the end. I can’t blame them for quitting. I quit things, too. Like, sometimes I’ll start watching a YouTube video and quit because something about it is annoying. Maybe the announcer isn’t human and speaks like a robot. Or the content might not be what was seemingly promised in the title.

Time is money for a lot of people. Sometimes, if a person takes too long to get to the point, the point will be missed. The receiver will stop engaging and walk away.

When a person quits too soon, they might miss out on something they might not have expected. My guess is that those who finished the post from a couple of days ago might have been surprised by the ending. The ending is not like the beginning, which was, admittedly, kind of ugly. I reread last night, wondering if I should cut some of the ugly part out. Maybe people would get the wrong idea about me. But then I decided that the ugly should stay, because it was part of the story.

Nowadays, people are so quick to dismiss others without a second thought. I think the response to the quick dismissal has been that people are more reluctant to be authentic. They’d rather quickly say what the other person wants to hear than be rejected or dismissed.

I could weigh in on the recent controversy involving cartoonist Scott Adams, who writes and illustrates a comic strip called Dilbert. I have never read that comic strip myself, so I can’t call myself one of Adams’ disappointed fans, dismayed because the cartoonist is in the news due to his recent racist tirade. I didn’t even see the rant that is getting him canceled right now. It sounds like it was pretty bad, though, and now Dilbert is being dropped by many newspapers. Maybe it’s inappropriate for Scott Adams to have platform anymore, since the job of cartoonist is one that is kind of dying. He’s been very privileged to be able to turn his talents into such a successful career.

Still, to me, it’s sad that an artist’s work is being dismissed because he said or wrote something people didn’t like. Sad that he uttered hateful, racist remarks that were hurtful to others, and sad that the backlash has been so brutally instant, seemingly without a second’s hesitation. I don’t agree with what little I’ve read about Scott Adams’ views, but I do realize that he must have done a lot right to be where he is today. Obviously, he was also very lucky. I don’t like to think that a person’s total worth is less than an unfortunate or unpleasant action. I’m sure Scott Adams, as a whole, is much better than his very offensive comments.

Since I don’t read Dilbert and know very little about Scott Adams or his political views, I think I’ll just say that I find cancel culture disturbing and kind of dystopian. Regular people can and will vote with their wallets. I think allowing them to make up their own minds is better than encouraging everyone to pick up figurative pitchforks and torches and actively seeking to kill someone’s livelihood. At the same time, I can see why some people are now completely turned off of Scott Adams. I don’t blame them.

That post that I wrote the other day, started off kind of “ugly”, because I wrote about how I got unceremoniously kicked out of my very first dorm room during my first week at college. My former roommate of just a few days, “Margaret”, went “ugly” early. At the time, it was devastating on several levels. I was brand new at Longwood, living in a room that was just as much mine as it was hers. And yet, I knew that if I tried to stand my ground, Margaret and her fraternity loving friend would make my life a living hell. So there I was, 18 years old and brand new to college, just days after arriving at Longwood, having to move to what was considered the “worst” dorm on campus.

You know what? A lot of the people I met after that move are still my friends today. That ugly, unpleasant, humiliating situation all worked out well in the end. In the long run, I was better off for moving across campus. If I had stayed in that room because it was “half mine”, it would not have been a good thing. Margaret was the type of person who would have done all she could to drive me out. Maybe I would have even ended up unhappy enough to transfer to another school , or quit altogether.

I could even say that about attending Longwood in the first place. It wasn’t my first choice college. And yet, it turned out to be a great school for me. I did very well there. I discovered talents and passions I had never explored before I went to college. I made some incredible friends. I only have a few regrets about going to my last choice school, and they are pretty minor, in the grand scheme of things.

Here’s a more recent example of this theme of “going ugly early”… Three years ago, Bill and I tried to adopt a dog from a German dog rescue. Our attempt to give a dog a new home ended in tragedy, when a disastrous string of events led to the dog escaping his transporter and getting killed on the Autobahn. That was a senseless and devastating event, and it made Bill and me feel like shit. But then, Noyzi the Kosovar street dog came into our lives and stole our hearts.

The fact that we have Noyzi doesn’t negate how awful it was that the other dog got killed thanks to the sheer negligence of the pet transporter. That was still a terrible thing. But if it hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t have our Noyzi, who reminds us every day how thrilled he is to have a home in Germany with us. Noyzi was destined to be in our family. I really think he was, especially since his rescuer, Meg, is a student of Carl Jung’s, just as Bill is. What are the odds?

And now for the last part of this post… This part might not seem like it fits very well, but I feel compelled to write about it, anyway.

I often read Lori Gottlieb’s advice column in The Atlantic. I knew who Lori Gottlieb was many years before I read her advice column. About twenty years ago, she wrote a book about her experiences with anorexia nervosa. It was titled Stick Figure. I read and reviewed that book for Epinions.com. Since then, Lori has become a therapist, and she writes articles for the magazine.

Last night, I read the following letter in Lori’s column, which caused some people to immediately react with disgust…

Dear Therapist,

When I married my husband, he had two adult children, and I had none. We both wanted to have a child together, but my husband had a vasectomy after his second child was born—too long ago to get the procedure reversed.

We didn’t want to use a sperm bank, so we asked my husband’s son to be the donor. We felt that was the best decision: Our child would have my husband’s genes, and we knew my stepson’s health, personality, and intelligence. He agreed to help.

Our daughter is 30 now. How do we tell her that her “father” is her grandfather, her “brother” is her father, her “sister” is her aunt, and her “nephew” is her half-brother?

My husband and I are anxious, confused, and worried about telling her. This is also hard on my husband, because he wants our daughter to know that he will always and forever be her father.

Thank you for any advice you have to offer.

Anonymous

Most of the people commenting were completely turned off by this scenario. I suspect most didn’t make it beyond the “ugly” headline, “Dear Therapist: My Daughter’s ‘Brother’ Is Actually Her Father”. Of course, most didn’t read further because they don’t subscribe. Plenty of people who didn’t read the letter had plenty to say about it, though. Quite a few folks were judging the letter writer for making this decision, and now being in a situation in which she was asking Lori Gottlieb for advice. After a few minutes’ thought about this situation, I came to a few conclusions.

In my opinion, it really makes no sense to be disgusted by this scenario. This woman’s daughter was born in the early 1990s. In those days, we didn’t conceive of things like Ancestry.com or 23&Me being a “thing”. Childless couples who hoped to conceive via sperm donor weren’t encouraged to know much about the donor. This couple wanted to have a child together. Using a sperm donor was probably the most expedient way for them to get what they desired.

The letter writer’s husband happened to have an adult aged son who was willing to serve as the sperm donor. Unusual? Yes. I wonder about his mother and what she might have thought about this scenario. As the stepson was an adult when he made his donation, it wouldn’t have been her business. Or, perhaps she’s dead. We don’t know. It sounds like stepmom never played a maternal role to her husband’s son, though. She sounds more like his father’s wife than his “stepmom”.

This isn’t a case of a stepmom having sex with a teenager. This situation involved sperm donation between two consenting adults who happen to know each other better than other donors and recipients might have. Would it have been better for the woman to conceive a baby with a stranger? Maybe in some people’s minds, that’s better. In my opinion, it’s not really ideal, though, because the other bio parent is much more of a mystery.

Moreover, since the letter writer’s stepson was obviously an adult when he donated sperm, stepmom could have married him, instead of his father, and had the baby the “natural” way. Far fewer people would have batted an eye at that scenario.

After thinking about this some more, I remembered a high school friend, whose mother was actually her grandmother. Her older sister was her bio mom, because she got “knocked up” in high school. Mom/grandma raised my friend instead. I pointed this out, and a woman conceded that that scenario is kind of common, but this one involving a sperm donor is somehow “different” because it was done deliberately, rather than being the result of an “accident”. I can tell you, having been an “accident”, albeit to an adult married couple, it kind of sucks.

And yet, nowadays, it’s not that uncommon for family members to do extraordinary favors for their relatives. I’ve read more than a couple of articles about mothers carrying babies for their daughters, who aren’t able to maintain pregnancies. I’ve seen sisters or cousins acting as surrogate mothers for their relatives. People often frame the women who do those kinds of favors as heroic. How is a stepson donating sperm to his father and his wife that much different? At least it doesn’t involve morning sickness.

Then I started thinking about how I would feel if I were the daughter in this case. I imagined that, for 30 years, I didn’t know the truth about my origins. I’m completely healthy and otherwise normal, except all my life, my biological father has been posing as my half brother. Now, perfect strangers on the Internet are grossed out about how I was conceived. If you think about it, that’s a lot “ickier” than the unusual circumstances of how I was conceived. Again… stepmom could have used a stranger’s sperm, and I wouldn’t know much of anything at all about my bio father. At least, in this situation, the young woman will be able to ask questions and have a chance at getting some honest answers.

Finally, I arrived at my conclusion. This situation sounds, on its surface, kind of “weird”. But, at the end of the day, what matters is that this couple desperately wanted to have a child together. They’re still married. Their daughter is still much beloved and was very much wanted. That, in my view, should be the focus. We should all be so lucky to have parents who wanted us that badly. The main idea is that this couple wanted to raise their daughter, and they chose the stepson as the donor, because they knew that he was healthy. It was a way for the father to contribute to his daughter’s genetic heritage, since he could no longer get his wife pregnant.

Instead of focusing on the “ick” factor of this situation, consider these points:

Everyone involved in the donation was a consenting adult.
It wasn’t a situation in which the stepmom and her stepson had a physical relationship. He simply donated sperm.
Mom could have just as easily had a relationship with the stepson and gotten pregnant. No one would have cared.
Mom could have used a stranger’s sperm and been faced with a lot more mystery regarding her daughter’s genetic heritage and potential medical or educational issues.
They made this decision before the advent of home DNA tests and probably figured they could keep the secret forever.
Thanks to reproductive technology advancements, family members are doing things that would have been unthinkable in previous generations. We’re seeing moms carrying their daughters’ children, for instance. Sperm donation, to me, is less earth shattering than being your sister’s or your daughter’s gestational carrier.
THIS WAS A WANTED CHILD. Her parents love her. She’s grown up healthy, well-provided for, and very much beloved by her family. That should be more important than the source of her father’s genes. I hope the couple broke the news to her gently, and she was left realizing that her family loves her.

To sum things up… things that begin negatively or distastefully can eventually lead to things of beauty. Sometimes, when we “go ugly early”, we can end up in unexpected and amazing places. I could even say the same thing about Bill and me, and our marriage. We met under unexpected and unusual circumstances, but it all worked out beautifully. Sometimes when something starts out “ugly”, it might just be a situation in which the ugliness just needs to be chipped away from the surface and polished until it becomes something better… and beautiful, like the stone in my featured photo.

memories, nostalgia, social media

Sometimes beer takes me places I never expected to go…

If you attempt to read this, please do me a favor and try to make it to the end before passing judgment.

A couple of days ago, I did a search of my own posts on Facebook. I don’t even remember what I was hoping to find. Maybe it’s because I drink a lot of beer. 😉 In any case, when I did that search, I unexpectedly found today’s featured photo. I got a kick out of it for many nostalgic reasons.

That photo was taken 30 years ago, during my junior year at what was then known as Longwood College in Farmville, Virginia. It’s a pretty special picture for many nostalgic reasons… including some I’ve just realized so many years later. I’ll get to why in a few paragraphs, if you’ll just indulge me a bit.

My junior year roommate was a year older than me, and the one I got along with best during my college years. She was a very serious student– extremely hard working and high achieving. I don’t know if this is still true, but at the time, she was said to be the very last organ performance major at Longwood. Her goal was to be a music teacher. I hung out with a lot of music majors. They were some of the hardest working people I’ve ever known.

This roommate and I got along very well, which is an amazing thing. We lived on the third floor of South Cunningham, which has since been demolished. In fact, the room I had during my sophomore year is no longer used as a dormitory. It’s now an administration building. Those of us who went to Longwood College, as opposed to Longwood University, have very different memories of the campus. It really has changed that much. I guess it leads to bonding on Facebook.

I’m always a little dismayed when I realize that I went through SEVEN Longwood roommates, and that was even with two semesters during which I had my own room. Sometimes I feel like I’m just not a very likeable person who isn’t compatible with most others, even though Bill and I are ridiculously compatible.

Then, when I think about it, I realize that my roommate situation is not as bad as it sounds. One year, I temporarily had a second roommate who eventually got kicked out of school. One year, my roommate joined a sorority and moved in with her new “sisters”. I had the room to myself in the spring. Another year, I had a roommate for a few weeks, until she left to student teach. Then I got a new roommate during the spring semester before my graduation, and we got along fine.

Then there’s my very first roommate, “Margaret” (not her real name) with whom I only spent a week before she basically kicked me out of the room so her slutty friend across the hall could move in. I’ve already blogged about her, though…

Before anyone comes at me, let me just say that I know it’s not nice to call someone a slut, but that was basically what Margaret’s friend and future roommate was like. We had been at college for a mere week, and she just wanted to skank around with fraternity guys. My former roommate delusionally thought the frat guys would like her, too, so she tagged along with her friend of one week. I understand from my former suitemates that their living arrangement didn’t work out very well.

If I hadn’t been in the middle of that mess during my first week of college, I might have felt sorry for my former roommate. The chick from across the hall– who openly and unabashedly spoke of her “twat” itching (yes, she literally said this– and I was confused because, at the time, I don’t even think I knew what a twat was)– was probably just using ex roommate for her money.

Margaret had a lot of money, but to be blunt, she was definitely not a looker. But she and fraternity skank showed me nothing but contempt, so I don’t have a lot of regard for either of them. Besides, it all worked out for the best. Both of those women left Longwood after our freshman year, and this article isn’t about them, anyway. So, I’ll move on. 😉

Junior year was a pretty good year for me. That was the one year I finally had a good friend as a roommate. Because I was 20 years old, I couldn’t buy my own booze… except at a couple of places that never carded people. My friend, who wasn’t a drinker, helped me buy a case of Bud Dry at what was then a Harris Teeter supermarket (I think it’s now a Kroger). Bud Dry was highfalutin’ beer in those days. I usually drank Natural Light or something of that caliber. There was a Canadian beer called Arctic Bay that I used to get all the time. I don’t think they make it anymore. I know Bud Dry is now defunct, as of 2010.

Being 20 years old and not very experienced in the ways of the world, I honestly thought Bud Dry was good stuff. So I packed it into my dented and RENTED dorm fridge and took a picture for posterity. At some point, I shared the photo on Facebook, where a lot of laughs and discussion ensued. As I mentioned up post, South Cunningham was demolished, but it was a much loved home at Longwood for a lot of students. So that photo of Bud Dry was definitely prime sharing material. First, I shared it on my personal page; then I shared it in a group for Longwood College alums (as opposed to Longwood University alums).

At this writing, about 250 people in the group have liked the photo, and there have been a lot of lively comments about it. Most of the comments have been about what “expensive” tastes I had, since I wasn’t drinking Milwaukee’s Best (Beast) or its ilk. Again, the reason there was a photo was because I was “proud” of drinking Bud Dry. I thought I was living large. I was, but only in terms of my clothing size. 😀

I was enjoying the Facebook commentary about the photo when I noticed someone with a familiar, yet unusual, last name had “liked” it. Suddenly, I remembered a woman I knew of because of my second Longwood roommate, the woman who had joined Kappa Delta sorority and moved in with her “sisters” during the spring of my freshman year.

Though I never joined a sorority myself, I eventually learned that most of them had nicknames based on their campus reputations. I also found out that a sorority chapter on one campus might be totally different than they’d be on another. For instance, I have some cousins who were Sigma Kappas at the University of Georgia. The Sigma Kappas at Longwood when I was a student there were known as really “smart” and kind of nerdy. But my cousins, if they had gone to Longwood, were probably more like Kappa Deltas or maybe Zeta Tau Alphas, both of which were founded at Longwood. Actually, if they had gone to Longwood, my cousins would have probably pledged ZTA, because their grandmother, my Aunt Jeanne, was a ZTA at Longwood.

My roommate after “Margaret” was a woman who happened to have the same first and last name as Margaret did. However, she spelled her first name differently and went by a nickname. I’ll call her “Maggy”. She was the opposite of Margaret. While Margaret was a narcissistic asshole who wore braces, and was morbidly obese, Maggy was slim, cool, and pretty. She was a natural for the “KD ladies”, as she told me they were known as at Longwood.

Maggy and I weren’t destined to be long term friends, but she was a much better fit than Margaret was. At least she didn’t come in during the middle of the night and turn on the overhead light while I was sleeping, right? In fact, a lot of nights, she slept with her boyfriend. That was cool for me!

Anyway, Maggy was very busy during the semester she pledged her sorority. She had a composite photo of all of the “sisters”. I remember seeing that photo every day during my first semester at Longwood. I remember most of the women in that photo were really conventionally pretty, like Maggy was. However, there was one woman who stood out in the composite photo. She was very attractive, but not in the super pretty way the others were. She had what seemed like a rare kind of charisma. I found her interesting and was curious about her.

I remember taking notice of the woman’s name, mainly because she had kind of an unusual moniker. I also noticed her because she had a dazzling smile that was very genuine, like someone everyone would want to meet and know. Again, she was not gorgeous in the typical popular sorority girl way, but she had an inner radiance about her. I could tell that she was someone who made friends very easily.

Maggy’s new sorority sister had a rare kind of true inner beauty. Her magnetism was obvious and memorable to me, even though I didn’t even know her. In fact, I never even met her when I was at Longwood. As an 18 year old, I just noticed and remembered her name and her face… and as time marched on, I eventually forgot about her… until last night.

I noticed someone with the same unusual last name liking my beer fridge post. I hadn’t thought of Maggy’s “dazzling smiled” sorority sister in well over 30 years. She was two years ahead of me, and we didn’t run in the same circles. At first, I thought the person who had liked the photo was the same woman with the dazzling smile. She hadn’t spelled out her first name on Facebook, but she had the same first initial as Maggy’s sorority sister did, plus the same surname.

I was curious, so I took a look at the person’s profile. After a minute or two, I realized that the person who had liked my post wasn’t the woman with the dazzling smile. Instead, she appeared to be a family member– perhaps a sister or a cousin.

There was a picture of the woman with the smile on her public Facebook page, and based on the comments, it appeared that she had died. I followed another link to Maggy’s sorority sister’s profile, and saw more comments from people who missed her. They commented on her spirit and her laugh. I could relate to that, since my laugh is very distinctive, too. When I die, I’m sure if anyone still knows me offline, they’ll comment on my laugh, too.

A few more minutes of investigation revealed that the woman with the smile had died of breast cancer. I soon found many pictures of her before and after treatment. There were pictures of her that recalled how she’d looked in her Kappa Delta composite photo. And there were pictures of her smiling bravely, with very short hair, and then finally completely bald. In every single one of those photos, there was that radiant smile that defied the circumstances and revealed what appeared to be an indomitable spirit. I don’t even know her story, but the smile told me a lot about her.

Soon, I found myself looking closer at the people she’d left behind. This was a woman who was obviously much beloved by a lot of folks, especially her family, but also friends and colleagues. She had clearly made an impression on many, and had left a very positive and indelible mark on their hearts. I suddenly felt kind of sad, because I wished I’d had a chance to meet her. Behind her sparkling, lively eyes, and bright, brave, dazzling smile, even when she was completely bald, there was a remarkable woman who had really made a difference to so many.

Of course, if I had met her, there’s every chance that we wouldn’t have meshed. I’ve mentioned it before, but it bears repeating. I tend to be the kind of person people love or hate. But now that I think about it, looking at pictures of Maggy’s sorority sister reminds me of an experience I had on a road trip years ago, when I happened to run into a Buddhist monk. I wrote about that experience here, but the short story is, that guy had a countenance that immediately put me at ease and calmed me down when I had been hangry and wound up tighter than a spring. I was awestruck and moved by simply being in the peaceful monk’s presence, looking at him from across a crowded room.

When I did a similar search for old photos last night, I happened across one about one of my relatives… She happened to live on a farm called Longwood, and she died a couple of years ago. I wasn’t very close to this relative. Although we were family, we didn’t agree on religion or politics. However, when she died, many people were genuinely devastated.

I noticed that along with the post her sister– another relative of mine– had written about missing her, there was a photo of them. And I noticed that they both had dazzling, warm, and genuine smiles, too. Even though we’re family, but not close friends, I can see that they obviously have left indelible marks on people. If I didn’t already know them due to our family connection, I’d probably be struck and ultimately touched by their beautiful smiles, too.

Isn’t it funny how a photo of a rented dorm fridge full of Bud Dry posted on Facebook can lead me to these places? Anyway… if anyone related to this woman figures out who she is and that I’ve written about her, I just want to say I’m very sorry for your loss. I can tell by the photos showcasing her smile that she was a very special person. Either that, or her dentists are worth their weight in platinum. 😉 (I’m kidding, of course…)

musings, psychology, videos, YouTube

“You really don’t have to do me any favors…”

Today’s featured photo comes from a photo that was in my Facebook memories today. Maybe my life would be better if I didn’t dance, or swear… or sing.

I had kind of an interesting day yesterday, even though it didn’t involve any outings. I spent a good portion of the day watching The Muppet Show on DVDs that I’ve had forever, but have never got around to viewing. I’m old enough to remember when that show originally aired. Now that I’m seeing it again as a 50 year old woman, I’m realizing that it really wasn’t a show for kids. Case in point, below are two clips from the first season…

Sandy Duncan was a guest, and her number involved boozing it up…

And a hilarious number written by Shel Silverstein, and performed by Candice Bergen…

Watching The Muppets put me in a good mood. Bill joined me for awhile, then told me that his daughter sent a couple of Marco Polo videos. We went down to the dining room to watch the videos and I was inspired to send her a video I took of Bill the other night, when he first got home from his latest business trip. I wanted to just attach the video to the email, but it was too large. Since I had my iPad handy, and that was the device I had used to make the video, I decided the simplest thing to do would be to just throw the video up on YouTube.

Because I wasn’t using my computer, and because my (soon to be retired) computer is being a big pain in the ass lately, I just uploaded the video straight from the iPad, with no title or anything. I don’t usually put videos on YouTube in that fashion, so it was actually a learning curve just to figure out how to title the video something other than February 4, 2023 and put in a brief description. However, I did manage to accomplish that task.

A little while later, I got a comment from a guy I “met” on SingSnap.com maybe ten years ago. He’s a bit of a lounge singer who is nice, but seems to troll for hits on his videos. He’s also on YouTube. This fellow often comments on my YouTube videos, but not so much on SingSnap anymore. On the other hand, I don’t go on SingSnap very often myself these days. Maybe once a month, I’ll do a recording to make my subscription worth the money and try out new stuff.

Lately, this fellow, name of Brad, has been leaving me comments on my YouTube music recordings. Last night, I discovered that Brad has a habit of commenting on things he doesn’t listen to… That’s not such an uncommon phenomenon. There are some SingSnap users who are notorious about rubber stamping recordings of which they haven’t actually so much as listened to the first second. They mainly do it because they hope people will comment on their recordings. Naturally, I assume they also hope people will listen to them, too, and not just leave a comment on something they’ve never even heard. People have their egos… and some folks think they deserve more of an audience, but they don’t want to reciprocate.

I’ll be honest. I don’t listen to a whole lot of SingSnap recordings. I mainly go there to try new songs, not necessarily make friends or build a fan base. When people leave nice comments on my recordings, I do appreciate it very much. But I don’t expect them to do that. Likewise, I am happy when people comment on my YouTube videos, as long as their comments are polite. But I don’t necessarily wait for that with bated breath. I understand that when it comes to amateur recordings, people aren’t always curious.

So anyway, last night, I put up a non-musical video. It stars Bill, Noyzi, and Arran. I put the raw version of this same video in yesterday’s travel blog post. I ONLY put it on YouTube so I could share it with younger daughter. Behold…

There is no music on this video.

Below is a screen shot of the comments on this video.

To be sure, this situation is mildly embarrassing. It’s embarrassing for me, because I now know that Brad just comments on shit without listening to it. It’s probably embarrassing for Brad, because he got busted. I notice this morning, I have one less YouTube subscriber. So now, I’ve been “punished”, most likely for Brad’s fuckup.

Actually, I don’t necessarily think of this as a “punishment”, per se. If you don’t actually want to watch my videos, by all means, don’t torture yourself. You don’t have to do me any favors. I put stuff up for those who like what I do. There are still a few people who enjoy my efforts. If you’re not one of them, that’s okay. And it’s okay if you don’t want to spend the time to check out my latest videos or blog posts or anything else. Just please don’t waste my time being fake.

I totally get that people often feel the need to be “nice”. I also know that there’s a big difference between being “nice” and being “kind”. People are often “nice” for their own purposes. Let’s face it. A lot of times, we put on a pleasant facade to get through things that might be unpleasant or uncomfortable. God knows, I have grinned and born it when dealing with dictatorial bosses, high conflict oriented relatives, and malevolent landladies. But there’s no need to do that on things like social media. Simply keep scrolling if something doesn’t interest you. Otherwise, you might trip up and show your ass.

Being kind isn’t always “nice”. A person can be kind by saying or doing something that will ultimately spare someone pain or inconvenience in the future. It would have been kind, for instance, if some of the narcissists I’ve known had shown me who they really were before I got too involved with them and invested a lot of time and energy in the relationship. But that wouldn’t have been “nice”, because it’s usually not nice to deal with a narcissist who is being themselves.

There’s no harm nor foul if Brad doesn’t want to subscribe to my channel anymore. It’s not a very active channel, anyway. He won’t have to rubber stamp videos he’s never listened to, and I won’t have to read his comments on my content, which he hasn’t bothered to view long enough to know what it is.

Later last night, via Statcounter, I noticed that I got a hit on blog posts I had tagged with Camerata Singers. I was a member of that choir when I was a student at Longwood University (then called Longwood College). I clicked on the link, and the first post with the Camerata Singers tag took me to an article I wrote in April 2020.

That post was about how, back in 2020, I got a request from a university official for an interview. This guy had found a blog post I wrote about my college years and was impressed. He wanted to talk to me about my experiences at Longwood. Ordinarily, I might have been flattered by his request, but as I explained in that post, this same fellow had spoken to me in 2014. Obviously, he forgot.

We had a lengthy conversation about my Longwood years and some of my experiences. He led me to believe he was going to write an article about me, but he never did. And that was okay with me, because as I also explained in my post, I realize that I might not seem like a shining representative of where a Longwood education might lead a person. It’s his job to “sell” the university, attract new students, and maybe influence alums to donate money. A person who calls themselves an “overeducated housewife” isn’t exactly the stuff of college recruitment brochures.

Still, that second request for an interview amused me, because obviously I was interesting to him, on some level. But he forgot that we’ve already spoken, which is understandable, since he probably talks to a whole lot of people. Ah well. Aside from a slight ego bruise, no harm, no foul.

I’ve come to realize that there’s more than one way to get through life. Our culture focuses a lot on people being “someone” in life. We’re expected to be someone’s spouse or partner, someone’s parent, someone’s employee, or maybe someone’s boss. If you aren’t one of those things, what good are you? I’ve run into this phenomenon a lot, especially in military communities, where family members and spouses of servicemembers are officially called “dependents” and unofficially called derogatory names like “dependas” (or worse).

I remember a few years ago, in the wine group I run on Facebook, I shared a link to a post I’d written on my travel blog. A member of the group, someone who obviously didn’t know that I was the admin, thoughtlessly posted a comment along the lines of, “Traveling Overeducated Housewife? Eww. I hope she at least has children.” I think I actually screenshot the comment at the time, but I can’t find it and it’s not important enough to go looking for it.

Naturally, I had a good time stating that no, in fact I don’t have children. And if he wanted to know WHY I don’t have them, I’d be happy to share the very personal details. I think he probably slunk out of the group after that interaction.

In the military community, especially, family members and spouses get judged. Some people get judged for being “fat slobs who abuse Tricare”. Others get judged for being “uppity bitches who don’t know their place.” Still others get judged for daring to write blogs instead of waiting tables. I don’t know where this attitude comes from… if I had to guess, I’d say it comes from insecurity and sexism. Someone like me doesn’t seem to have much value in the military community, or apparently, anywhere else. But at least my husband loves me, right? And so do my dogs. 😉

Lots of people in the military community automatically dislike me because of the name of my blog. Most of them have never met me in person or even so much as had a conversation with me on social media. And they judge me for being “formally educated”, but not formally employed, forgetting that it’s hard to have a great career when you have to move all the time. Some people can do it, but not everyone can. I don’t want to have a job just to have a job, especially when I know there are people who need to work for the money.

Or they judge me because I don’t have children. Or because I am my husband’s second wife… and that must mean I was “the other woman”.

Like my friend Thomas commented yesterday, “People jump to conclusions all the time, they think they know more than they do, they think they’ve got something to say when they don’t, and it causes a whole range of conflict coming from different angles.”

Exactly… and sometimes, people say and do fake “nice” things, when they don’t really mean it and are just trying to be manipulative. Or… they judge you silently, when you do something other than what they think you should be doing with your own life. I’m mostly just trying to get through life without irritating people.

I put stuff out there. Some of it’s good or noteworthy. Some of it sucks. There’s no need to do me any favors by acting like you like something I’ve put out there when you haven’t bothered to read it or watch it. There’s no need to comment or react at all, unless you’re genuinely moved to do so. The world would be a much better place if people would be more authentic with kindness as their main motivation. There’s no need to try to fool me with fake shit. I can usually smell it a mile away, anyway.

Just be real. But I know that’s easier said than done. Our society doesn’t make it easy to be real, does it?

A little musical wisdom from Ron Block. This IS a musical video, but I’m not the one singing. 😉

complaints, rants

Repost: You don’t buy a candy bar for the wrapper…

This post originally appeared on the Google version of this blog on June 12, 2017. I am reposting it as/is, because I think it makes good sense. The featured photo is one of me from around 2017. I look prettier in that photo than I do on a daily basis, in spite of the scowl on my face.

I have never been the type of woman who turns heads with my looks, even when I was young. Since I’m getting older and fatter, I probably never will turn heads, at least not simply because of what I look like. Should this make me sad?

Apparently, some women still base their self-worth on whether or not men notice them. I read an incredibly airheaded article this morning by Eve Pollard, a British woman who evidently used to be quite attractive to men. She’s enjoyed a successful career in journalism and probably should be very pleased about that. Sadly, it seems she’s now “invisible” to men. They don’t notice her or wolf whistle at her anymore. She’s 71 years old.

In the article, there is a picture of Ms. Pollard. She is still blessed with good looks. At age 71, she still has a bright smile and dresses attractively. I would never guess she’s 71. Would she turn heads at a construction site? Probably not. But who in the hell wants to be whistled at by a bunch of construction workers?

Ms. Pollard has been married for 38 years and she says he’s still “interested”. If that’s true, why does it matter if other men don’t notice her? Why are so many women so wedded to their appearances as a source of self-esteem? Eve Pollard has what a lot of women would envy… a career, children, a loving husband, and at age 71, good health and looks. Why did she feel the need to write about becoming “invisible” to men? And why did I waste time reading such nonsense?

It’s pitiful and pathetic. I would have hoped someone of her advanced age would have matured at some point during those years. I really enjoy Brits, but I’ve found that they are an awful lot like Americans in many ways. And in some ways, they’re even worse, especially when it comes to silly subjective bullshit like whether or not a person is considered “beautiful” as they age.

Some time ago, I wrote a blog post about a guy Bill and I met on a cruise. He was from England and he seemed okay at first. We chatted with him a bit. It soon became clear that he’s an asshole. One night, I was in the piano bar singing to Bill. We were the only ones in there besides the piano player. The British chap walked in and his mouth dropped open. Then he said, I kid you not, “Now I can see why you’d love her.”

Really? He must have seen the shocked expression on my face, because then he came over and hugged me. It was very embarrassing. In the first post I wrote about this subject, I went more into detail about that trip. I don’t want to do that again in this post, except to say that his comment was a reflection of an attitude a lot of men have… really, a lot of people have… about women they don’t think are “hot” enough to be out in public. It’s as if it’s our duty to look good for them.

I can remember at least two occasions when I was in college– and supposedly at my prettiest– when guys who usually treated me like shit, actually complimented me on my looks. One guy was someone I’d known in high school. He used to get really drunk and manhandle girls. I remember one of my hallmates was really tiny and this dude got very drunk and demanded that she go out with him. He stood in the hall, absolutely plastered, screaming at her to pay attention to him. He actually picked her up and tried to carry her off somewhere before another male friend intervened.

One night, I got dressed up, fixed my hair, and put on makeup. Sadly, it was because I was meeting a guy, who ultimately didn’t think I was “hot” enough, either. Anyway, the perpetually drunk guy from my high school and college said to me, “Oh Jenny, you look ‘E’!” “E”, for your edification, was a euphemism some of the guys I knew had come up with for the term “eats”… as in, “That woman is ‘good eats’.” The drunk dude actually meant this as a compliment. And he said this to me after I had witnessed him getting piss drunk and carrying off women as if he was an out of control caveman overcome by lust and the women would actually enjoy this treatment. How gross.

Another time, it was a big black guy who was in our choir. He didn’t like me. He thought I was obnoxious and told me straight to my face that he thought I was “rude”. He didn’t even really know me very well, but clearly thought I was too loud and opinionated and had no issues telling me so. On a choral trip to New York City, we happened to go to the same Broadway show. I had put on a really flattering navy blue dress. I look good in blue. I fixed my hair, wore jewelry, applied makeup, and wore matching navy heels. And this guy, who generally had nothing good to say to me most of the time, said “Wow. You actually look good tonight.” Really? So the rest of the time, when I’m wearing shorts and a t-shirt, I look like warmed over shit? And you feel entitled to say this to me without a shred of shame? And you think I care about your opinion?

The funny thing is, it wasn’t like this guy was a looker himself. He was quite obese and bald. He wore sweats all the time and actually sweated in them. He had an ungracious personality and probably bad breath, to boot. And, for some reason, he thought I’d care that he thought I looked good when I dressed up to go see a Broadway show and had the audacity to tell me so.

I do have a funny memory about this guy. One time, we both attended a show at our college put on by a hypnotist. He was called up on stage and apparently was very vulnerable to the powers of suggestion. The hypnotist had him dancing to an unheard tune with wild abandon. Later, it was very clear that the guy was embarrassed that we’d seen him being put under by the hypnotist, who had succeeded in making him act like a fool. Serves him right.

Listen… when you’re a college student going to a school where there is no strict dress code, you aren’t necessarily going to want to dress up for class. I remember when I was in school, I had to save up quarters so I could wash my clothes. That meant I’d wear things that were easy to wash and dry… not pretty navy blue dresses that required dry cleaning. Why would I want to wear heels if I have to walk to different buildings around campus to get to class? I did that one day, fell down some steps, and ended up with torn panty hose, skinned knees, and a sprained ankle. That was certainly attractive.

I get wanting to be pretty. I just think if you’re going to be pretty, you should do it for yourself, not for wolf whistles from horny, clueless men who have no idea what’s inside of you. I read a very wise comment on a different article yesterday. It was written by a guy who, I’m sure, is a high quality specimen. He wrote, “My granddaddy always said, ‘You don’t buy a candy bar for the wrapper. You buy it for what’s inside.” You know what? He’s absolutely right… unless, of course, you’re diabetic. Then you should probably buy celery.

I’m just glad I didn’t settle for one of those guys who only wants a pretty wrapper. My Bill is the only one whose wolf whistles I would ever care about. And frankly, he’s too classy to whistle at me, anyway. This is a guy, who last week, when I tripped over a dog toy and temporarily stunned an ankle and skinned a knee, made a special trip to the store to buy me a compression wrap. I didn’t ask for it and ultimately didn’t need it, but he valued me enough to think of what I might need and bought one for me anyway. He would have wrapped my ankle personally, too.

Life is too short to spend a lot of time worrying about whether random people think you’re “pretty”. What they think of you is probably none of your business. I think I’m more attractive at almost 45 than I was at 25. I don’t look that much different now than I did back then and I’m a lot more together and less neurotic. Enjoy your life… all stages of it… and fuck worrying about your looks when you’re in your 70s. The best people– male or female– are the ones who value what’s on the inside and would rather buy a candy bar for the candy, rather than just the wrapper. 😉

lessons learned, music

Is teaching activism a “bad” thing?

Brace yourselves, y’all. I have a new topic to discuss today!

I am a proud graduate of Longwood College, now known as Longwood University. It’s a medium sized liberal arts college in the dead center of Virginia. When I was a student there, it was smaller than it is now. In fact, I know I would be shocked by the huge changes to the campus since I attended in the early 90s. Not only has the campus changed significantly, but apparently, so has the curriculum. Longwood is offering what I think are some very exciting and innovative courses.

Longwood is the kind of school where students are nurtured and encouraged to try new things by professors who really care. I graduated from Longwood in 1994, and 28 years later, there are still people there who remember me when I was a student. I also have so many real friends from my years at Longwood. It’s at Longwood that I started developing my gift for music, and was allowed– and even strongly encouraged and recruited– to study music, just because I have a knack for it. The faculty at Longwood is, by and large, first rate. And while it was not my first choice college, it turned out to be an excellent choice for me. My four years at Longwood truly changed my life for the better.

Naturally, because I am such a booster, I follow Longwood on social media. And this morning, I noticed a post about a new and exciting course that is being offered this spring. Longwood now offers a Civitae Core Curriculum, which did not exist during my college years. Back when I was a student, we called the core curriculum “general ed”. But things have clearly changed, and now freshmen can take a course called Citizen 110– Music Identity and Social Change. This class, which is taught by Honors faculty member, Dr. Kevin Schattenkirk-Harbaugh, will explore how music can inspire people to take action. It will look at artists such as Billie Holliday, George Michael, Marvin Gaye, Paul Simon, and others, to see how music motivates people to take interest and action in the world.

Now… as a music lover who took many music electives at Longwood to supplement my major in English, I know that this class would intrigue me. I haven’t taken a close look at Longwood’s Civitae Core Curriculum, but my guess is that this class is just one choice of several that students can take to fulfill their degree requirements. Based on the class description, I can state with certainty that I would have wanted to take this class myself. It sounds exciting and interesting. And based on the Facebook comments I’ve seen so far, I have a feeling that I’m not the only one who would be interested in taking this course.

Still, there’s a critic in every crowd, and this post was no exception. A woman, who apparently isn’t even a Longwood alum, wrote this:

Activism? This is what parents are paying for?

Another commenter wrote:

The history of activism inspired by music. A unique and interesting examination of how music has inspired some…

And the original commenter responded with:

I get that. But to what purpose? To incite more activism?

I couldn’t help but get the idea that the poster thinks activism is a “bad” thing. And while I usually try not to respond to people on social media, and had already passed my self-imposed one comment per day quota, I felt compelled to leave a response. This is mainly because the person’s comment irked me on many levels, but also because I know I would have LOVED a class like this in the early 1990s:

No. To teach students about how music inspires people to take action. What’s wrong with that? A lot of positive changes have come out of activism. Aside from that, not everyone who takes that course will eventually wind up taking to the streets.

Not all college students are having college paid for by their parents, either. When I went to Longwood, I knew a number of people who were older students and paying for their own education. Or they were in school on scholarship. As legal adults, Longwood students should be trusted to choose electives that interest them. If the course turns out to be inappropriate or unpopular, that will be reflected eventually.

I don’t know this poster at all, but her comment really troubles me. From the implied assumption that all students in college get their tuition paid for by their parents, to the idea that teaching adults about how music inspires action could potentially be damaging, I feel personally affronted by this person’s comment. However, I am not sorry she posted, because her comment did lead me to do some thinking and writing about something besides my current pet topics. I do enjoy reflecting on my time at Longwood, and all of the things I learned there, as well as the many good times I had when I was a student there.

When I was a Longwood student, Virginia was a more conservative state. There was a Confederate statue that stood just off campus. I remember watching many drunken fraternity brothers climbing it at night. While there were some innovative classes offered during that time period, I don’t remember ever seeing a course with such a provocative title on offer at Longwood during my era. I think this new class is a sign that my alma mater is evolving, and I think that’s a really good thing.

Longwood has a long, storied reputation as a school where great teachers are trained. It makes sense to me that new courses with exciting subject matter would be offered. My only hope is that this class allows for constructive discussion from many different perspectives. I hope and expect that the professor who teaches it will allow students to explore the topic from all angles. There will be some students in that class who are conservative, and not politically correct in their opinions. There will also be some students who will take a much more liberal view. I hope that all sides will have a voice, and it won’t be a course in which opinions are taught as fact.

BUT– after my own seven years’ experience as a university student at two different schools, I have found that course quality often has a lot to do with who is doing the teaching. Having spent four years at Longwood, I have every expectation that this class will be taught in a way that encourages reflection and broad thought. It sounds like it will be a treat to take this course. I truly wish I could take it myself, and it’s exciting to me that it’s being offered now. I wish I had a son or daughter I could have sent to Longwood. I have to be contented in seeing some of my old friends’ children deciding to attend college there.

Below is a screenshot of a description of this class:

One of the great things about getting a liberal arts education is having the opportunity to broaden one’s perspectives. When I got to Longwood in 1990, my world view was mostly shaped by spending ten years living in a very rural part of Virginia. Although I had the benefit of living in England and the multicultural D.C. area when I was very young, when I was growing up, I was mostly surrounded by white, southern, Christian, conservative people. My upbringing really showed when I got to Longwood, and in fact, after I graduated, I still had some limited views that could have used some informing.

My mind opened up a lot when I joined the Peace Corps and went to live in Armenia for two years. I still cringe a little bit when I think about how sheltered I was when I was in my 20s, not having been exposed to that much of the world. I remember more than a couple of times when I sounded truly idiotic– perhaps even more so than I might today. 😉

Yes, people can choose to take paths that will broaden them at any stage of life, but it would have been great to have had the chance to start the process when I was in college, rather than after I graduated. College is a time for exploration and evolution in a safe place. I think these kinds of courses are crucial for young adults who are coming of age. And they also spice up the usual basic 101 courses that are typically required for freshmen students.

And– by the way– most college students are legal adults, whether or not mom and dad are paying their tuition. Legal adults should be encouraged to take charge of their education, since they will ultimately be the benefactors of it. I know that some parents who pay college tuition bills think they should have a say in what their dollars are paying for. However, I think that’s something that needs to be handled within individual families, not at the level of parents complaining about curriculum offerings. In other words, if you– mom or dad– don’t like what Junior is taking at college, take it up with Junior. Don’t try to take educational opportunities away from everybody by assuming that you, as a parent, should get a say in what courses the university offers when you’re not even a student there. Granted, this one class might not lead a student to a great job, but it might help a student become a person with a heightened awareness and broadened perspective, which could lead them to places they never dreamed of going.

So… count me among those who are cheering about this class, and others like it, that are now being offered at Longwood University. I see nothing wrong with teaching young people about activism, or how certain things– like great songs– can inspire and motivate people to take action, for better or worse. I don’t think the students who are exposed to this course are necessarily going to grab picket signs and stage protests. Some of them might do that someday, but they would probably be the types of people who would have done that, anyway. Rather, I think this class is going to make students aware that they have the power to effect change if they want to– and it doesn’t necessarily have to be for causes that are liberal, conservative, or whatever. It’s just a look at the ways music can inspire and help foster change– for better or worse. I think it sounds like it’s going to be a very stimulating and fun class, and the students are lucky there’s a professor at Longwood who had the vision to create this course. If it turns out to be a flop, that will become clear soon enough.

We shouldn’t be afraid to expose young people to new ideas or exploration of old ideas. We shouldn’t assume that they’ll go astray simply because we encourage them to reach out and learn more about things that might be controversial or against the establishment. I have great faith in the students at Longwood, and I suspect this class will be very successful. Bravo, Dr. Kevin Schattenkirk-Harbaugh! I look forward to hearing more about this course offering.

The Overeducated Housewife

Just another boring blog about a boring housewife…

Tag Archives: Longwood

Sometimes going ugly early works out for the best…

“You really don’t have to do me any favors…”

Repost: You don’t buy a candy bar for the wrapper…