If someone else was doing the same exact thing ive been doing to myself lately id be so mad and i would want to slap some sense into them and ask them why the fuck they doing this shit. Like why dont i care about myself like i would for other people. Why am i doing some dumb ass shit. Why am i so stupid.
damn, intelligence is such a turn on. like wow, people who know a lot about so many different places and so many different things. and they’ve always got something to tell you or show you about something new that they’re interested in, and like, somehow they can blow your mind over and over. damn. such a turn on.
There’s a ton of problematic shit surrounding her, especially at first, the zooms onto her pant leg and the Gang calling her a guy and the referring to her by a slur constantly. And she should be played by an actual trans woman. But most of this is done from the Gang’s point of view, completely outside of Carmen herself, and we know by now that the Gang is a group of gross ridiculous people whose views shouldn’t be trusted.
“Where did this idea come from— that if you raise the minimum wage, there’ll be an economic disaster? That if you give poor people money they’ll just hoard it, that the money just disappears into a black hole and everybody stops hiring and unemployment soars because it’s too expensive to hire people…?
You know what happens when you give poor people a bigger cash flow?
Suddenly we’re not living paycheck to paycheck. We don’t have to choose between paying the electric bill and the groceries, we can actually cover both. Suddenly we’re not nervously eyeballing the first of the month, because covering rent is no big deal.
We get that funny noise in the car engine fixed even if it’s several hundred dollars, instead of just putting up with the knocking and driving to work with our teeth gritted and fingers crossed every day waiting for the car to just up and die (and then end up spending several thousand on a new used car— being poor can actually be very expensive). We get the house’s leaky windows patched up and hey, the heating bill just went down, look at that. We’re less tempted to rack up debt on credit cards buying— not luxuries, but essential things like food or medicine.
We’ll pay for nannies and babysitters for our kids so we can show up to work that job flipping your burgers. We’ll pay for after-school programs and extracurricular activities so our kids are happy, socialized, and well-rounded.
We’ll funnel that money into more books, movie tickets, weekend getaways, art supplies, a hobby vegetable garden, community involvement, whatever— things that enrich our lives and take away the stress of the working day, because we’re no longer sinking all our time and energy into two or three jobs just to scrape up enough to make the most meager of ends meet. We’ll buy gifts for our loved ones on holidays. We’ll go out to eat more, shop for clothes more— patronizing the businesses that hire minimum wage workers. (How ‘bout that.)
We might put some money in a savings account, yes, but eventually spend it— on major purchases like college or a house, or spend it when retirement rolls around. But by and large all that extra money gets fed right back into the local economy— by workers who are more likely to be happy, less likely to be stressed and exhausted.
I’m not saying having more income will magically fix all problems min-wage workers have. But it will take care of the biggest ones, and enable us to take care of many more.
And you can be damn sure if you give us more income the one thing we won’t be doing with it is hiding it in a mattress and never spending it.
Rich people do that.”—Wear Many Hats: Minimum wage, maximum use (via confusionisastateofbeing)
“And before you call Rodger “crazy”: it is not actually “crazy” to believe stuff that’s been shoved down your throat from birth.
I wish it were. It’d be nice if humans reasoned rationally by default, that if you grow up with people telling you things that don’t make sense, like religion or that sex is dirty or that women owe you anything at all, you’d just go, “Well, that makes no sense!” and refuse to ever believe it.
But we didn’t evolve that way, at least not yet. Unless we work very hard at it, we’ll inevitably believe what we’re taught so incessantly, as sexism is taught to all of us. Yet we are all capable of rational thought if we work at it, which is why I hold Rodger and all other men who believe in their conditioning and subject women to violence fully accountable for their actions.
A very good therapist could have helped Rodger with this process. Maybe. But when mass shootings happen and everyone bemoans the fact that the shooter didn’t go to (or wasn’t helped by) therapy, they never seem to ask themselves what this therapy would entail. You don’t go to therapy or go on medication and suddenly become happy. What you have to do is unlearn the maladaptive and harmful ways in which you’ve learned (or been taught to) think. For someone like me, this means learning not to be so afraid and not to treat every minor setback as the end of the world. In Rodger’s case, this might’ve meant learning how to be okay with not having sex with women for a while, learning the social skills to eventually find and keep a partner, and, most importantly, learning that women do not owe him a single damn thing. With that realization might’ve come freedom.
In other words, the way to help Rodger would have been to help him unlearn what he never should have learned in the first place. And there’s no guarantee that even the best of therapists could succeed at this; everyone in the field knows that sometimes clients are just beyond help (at least by a given therapist) and that it’s tragic and sad and don’t we wish we could’ve caught them earlier?
What if our culture had never taught Rodger these horrible beliefs?
What if our culture didn’t still treat women as possessions?
DATE (FROM TWO DAYS BEFORE THIS ESSAY WAS DUE, DESPITE THE FACT I STARTED IT FOUR HOURS BEFORE DAWN)
AS MUCH INFORMATION AS I CAN THINK OF
TO SHOVE INTO THIS MARGIN
SO MY PAPER LOOKS LONGER LIKE
CLASS TITLE MAYBE?
ESSAY TITLE I SPENT LIKE TEN MINUTES TRYING TO SQUEEZE A PUN INTO BUT COULDN’T BECAUSE AFTER WRITING THIS I AM DEAD INSIDE
This is the introductory line - maybe there’s a cool fact here, a quote, the words “the dictionary defines this word as,” or a rambling, half-desperate struggle to appear relevant. Here is where I introduce my topic and the book I read, here is the author’s name I spelled wrong the first time around. Here is where I mention the characters that I remember in an attempt to seem like I actually read the book instead of skimming it. Here is where I halfheartedly try to make my thesis sound like it connects to the rest of this paragraph. Here is the thesis, which I will painstakingly rewrite in every paragraph or else the teacher will say something like “How does this paragraph relate?” even though it’s pretty obvious how that paragraph relates.
Here is me saying the first bit of the thesis statement again, maybe with a different word or two. I heard the teacher mention something about a metaphor or whatever, so I’ll just mention that. Here’s that one character I remember vaguely, and a purposefully verbose depiction of them so I can take up as much space as possible. I only opened the book like a week ago, so “here is a quote that [doesn’t] really make any sense in the context of this paragraph and is overly long so as to extend the length of this essay” (citation I probably did wrong - was that MLA or Chicago?). I will now analyze this quote incorrectly. “Here is another quote,” says that character, probably, I hope (MLA citation). As we saw in that quote, this character said that once, which proves my thesis because I said so. I couldn’t really find a third quote for this paragraph but I once got points off for missing one, so “[here]” is a “[quote]” I might have “[made] up” (APA citation). I might say something in here about that metaphor again, shit, I don’t know. Here’s the thesis, but maybe with three different words.
Transitional sentence I shambled together out of the remains of my hopes and dreams. A rambling, off-topic sentence which probably should have been deleted but it’s four in the morning and I honestly don’t care and I need those full five pages. A drastic shift in the paper where for five seconds I actually think I know what I’m talking about. Here’s a “quotation” that does actually “support” the second part of my thesis and I’m actually really surprised that it does (MLA?). Here’s my analysis of the quote in which I try to explain why that supports my thesis like explaining to a small child why the wind blows. It just does, okay, but I’m only going to be able to express this in really confused and circular speech that my teacher will probably underline and put a condescending little question mark next to. Here’s my second quote, “even though I’m not as sure about it” as the last one (MLA, definitely). Here’s my mentioning that character again, but this time I’m talking also about a second character. I secretly hope I never have to take a test on this stuff. Here’s the “third quote, which I will refuse to cut despite the fact it is again too long and probably needs to be edited for tense changes but if I do that then the teacher will think I give a shit” (APA). Here’s my thesis again but this time I’m connecting it back to the characters because I’m smart see also I have no idea what I’m doing and I want to burn my laptop and I just spent four hours on the internet putting this essay off so now my only option is to just write and pray to god that something makes sense. Concluding line.
Transitional sentence, but with a vague sense of foreboding and dread attached to it. My hands are starting to slow down. I have no idea if my thesis is even right, but here’s some kind of a “quote” that maybe happened I hope (APA, definitely). I have now grown to resent the two characters I have been talking about and I sincerely hope they both die in a fire because literally nothing interesting happens to them literally nothing interesting happened in this book whatsoever, but here’s a “quote that makes it seem like I payed attention in class when the teacher read their favorite bit aloud” (MLA). I am now pretty sure my thesis isn’t correct and that I have zero evidence to support it in any way, but it is far too late in the paper to change anything, so I’m just going to speed ahead and hope the teacher doesn’t notice. I don’t even care anymore if I fail, here’s a “quote because what the hell,” not gonna bother analyzing it because at this point seriously do I still have to explain this stuff how hard is my thesis to grasp (panicky Chicago). Here’s a conclusion, barely.
This is where I say the thesis again, because I hate the teacher at this point and I want them to suffer through reading the same stuff eighty times. Here’s where I try to make this book seem “modern” and “exciting,” when in reality if I had been allowed to read it in my own time and without having to see specific symbols that my teacher wanted, I probably would have liked it. Here’s where I talk about those symbols I just remembered at the last second. Here’s where I say something vague. Here’s how I link the conclusion to the introductory paper, if I’m brave. Here’s a rambling personal thought. Here’s where I panic about how to end this essay. With a question, maybe?