Coloring Outside the Lines

I've been pretty scarce around here lately.  The main reason for this is that I've been working hard on a new fanfiction story, my first in the Harry Potter Universe.

I've completed fifteen chapters so far, so I felt confident enough to finally start posting chapters at Fan Fiction Net.  I posted the first two chapters on Tuesday, intending to post the third on Monday.  I've found from reading other authors there that I can gain more interest, thus more readers, if I don't post all I have at once.  Everything is going well so far; I had 7 reviews, all positive, and 10 subscriptions to the story in the first 24 hours.

The story is entitled "Hermione's Choice".  It's a Lucius/Hermione pairing taking place six months after the end of the last book.  It's what's known as "AU" (Alternate Universe), in that I change some things that happened in the books.

I won't get into too much detail about what the story is about, as I would prefer that people go to Fan Fiction Net and read the story for themselves.  I'm still writing it, so I should be posting chapters on a roughly weekly basis for the foreseeable future.

Those interested in reading my story can read it here:

Hermione's Choice

In the last month, I've been closely monitoring the news about the raid on the FLDS ranch in Texas.  Today, I read an article about one of the teenage girls who just gave birth, and I read something interesting there that left me scratching my head:

Under Texas law, children under the age of 17 generally cannot consent to sex with an adult. A girl can get married with parental permission at 16...

What? The notion of an underage person being incapable of consent is based on the theory that children below a certain age do not yet have the pscyhological development to properly make an informed consent.

I don't see how a parent telling their child that it's OK to have sex, i.e. get married, suddenly bestows the appropriate psychological decision making tools on the child and thus makes it all right.

Either a child is psychologically capable of giving consent or they're not, and outside circumstances shouldn't have any bearing on that truth, whichever side one believes.

In other words, if the state would allow marriage, even under limited circumstances, isn't it tacitly saying that the child is capable of consenting to sex and, by assumption, marriage?

It just seems completely looney to me to allow marriage, even under limited circumstances, at an age that is lower than the legal age of consent. 

Even though I don't follow  the Indy Racing league, I have to admit that I was excited when I heard that Danica Patrick had won her first race last Sunday in the Japan 300.

I always get a thrill when I hear of a woman breaking yet another barrier, proving that "women can" to all the people who insist than "women can't".  Patrick's win is yet another link in a continuing trend in women's history.   In whatever field of endeavor, whenever naysayers insist that women can't do something, a woman comes along and proves that women are indeed capable, and are inevitable followed by others in increasing numbers.

When I was a child, it was accepted that women couldn't be police officers or fire fighters.  Women are both now, though men continue to dominate such professions.  But it shouldn't be necessary for ALL women to be capable of handling a certain job in order to allow SOME women to do so -- it's not as if all men are cut out to be cops for fire fighters, either.

Patrick's victory is especially significant because she did so competing in a sport directly against men at the sport's highest level in a regular event, instead of doing so in a separate, auxiliary league or in an exhibition event.  Yes, Billie Jean King beat Bobby Riggs in tennis in 1973, but it was a special exhibition match and Riggs was well past his prime competing with a women at the height of her talent, so that was easy for naysayers to dismiss as irrelevant.

Drag racing has long been more hospitable to women, with Shirley Muldowney winning the NHRA Top Fuel championship in 1977, 1980. and 1982,  NASCAR has had a few female drivers, but none of them have had the opportunity to drive for any of the top-financed teams, which is now practically a necessity to have any chance of winning.

Other than auto racing, there are presently few sports that even allow women to compete directly against men.  The Olympics allow women to compete against men only in sailing and equestrian events.

I hope Patrick continues to rack up wins, and is soon joined by other women.  Presently, two other women, Sarah Fisher and Milka Duno, compete in the Indy Car League

Not too long ago, I came upon this poem.  Because I am rapidly approaching fifty and old age is no longer something so impossibly far into the future for me as to be nearly inconceivable, the author's words especially spoke to me.

When the poem's author died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Dundee, Scotland, it was believed that she had nothing left of any value.Later, when the nurses were going through her meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital

One nurse took her copy to Ireland. The old lady's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the North Ireland Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on her simple, but eloquent, poem. And this little old Scottish lady, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet:

What do you see, nurses?
What do you see?
What are you thinking
When you're looking at me?

A crabby old woman,
Not very wise,
Uncertain of habit,
With faraway eyes?

Who dribbles her food
And makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice,
'I do wish you'd try!'

Who seems not to notice
The things that you do,
And forever is losing
A stocking or shoe?

Who, resisting or not,
Lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding,
The long day to fill?

Is that what you're thinking?
Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse,
You're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am
As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding,
As I eat at your will.

I'm a small child of ten
With a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters,
Who love one another.

A young girl of sixteen
With wings on her feet
Dreaming that soon now
A lover she'll meet.

A bride soon at twenty,
My heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows
That I promised to keep.

At twenty-five now,
I have young of my own,
Who need me to guide
And a secure happy home.

A woman of thirty,
My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other
With ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons
Have grown and are gone,
But my man's beside me
To see I don't mourn.

At fifty once more,
Babies play round my knee,
Again we know children,
My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me,
My husband is dead,
I look at the future,
I shudder with dread.

For my young are all rearing
Young of their own,
And I think of the years
And the love that I've known.

I'm now an old woman
And nature is cruel;
'Tis jest to make old age
Look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles,
Grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone
Where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass
A young girl still dwells,
And now and again,
My battered heart swells.

I remember the joys,
I remember the pain,
And I'm loving and living
Life over again.

I think of the years
All too few, gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact
That nothing can last.

So open your eyes, people,
Open and see,
Not a crabby old woman;
Look closer . . . see ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet an old person who you might brush
aside without looking at the young soul within .. .. we will all, one day, be there, too!

PLEASE SHARE THIS POEM. IT'S SOMETHING WE ALL NEED TO READ

When it comes to formality of dress, in my everyday life, I'm definitely of the casual school.

If I'm at home, I stay whatever I wear as pajamas all day long. I wear a uniform to work, so my own clothes don't get as much of a workout.

On my own time when I go out, I wear short sleeve t shirts in summer, long sleeved ones in winter or some kind of pullover top. I wear either jeans or dark pants in a knit material similar to a t shirt, but thicker. I'll wear a nice button up blouse unbuttoned, usually in a camp shirt style, over a matching sleeveless shell if I want to look a bit dressier, along with the jersey knit pants. I haven't worn a dress since 2001.

I wear black leather Nike sneakers all the time -- I've not worn hard shoes in years. I have a pair of plain black clogs and a pair of plain black flats if I ever need to dress up a bit. I don't own any heels, as I never really learned how to walk in them, nor do I have a desire to learn. Because I never wear nylon hose or tight heeled shoes, I have no corns, calluses, crusty heels or any other type of foot problem at nearly 50. There's a reason they call "sensible shoes" sensible!

I wear a short black leather jacket in winter and have a pea coat if it gets really cold.

No makeup, ever, even on my wedding day. My skin is my best feature, so I get away with it. "IF it ain't broken, don't fix it" is my motto toward makeup. I do like to wear cologne or perfume, however. I also like wearing rings, usually gold or silver with colored gemstones.

I just pull my hair back and wear it in a single braid down the back, which is about shoulder blade length. It's thin, fine, and flyaway, so there's little I can do to style it. For me, the simpler, the better.

I'm happy with how I dress and it fits my life, as I have little or no opportunity to go anywhere where dressing up is indicated. If I'm comfortable, I'm happy and confident, and when I'm both of those things, I feel more attractive. It's not what you wear; it's your attitude about what you're wearing.

My favorite article of clothing is the leather jacket, as it is cut that it actually flatters my increasingly matronly figure.

In a coming entry, I'll post what I consider to be my "fantasy" wardrobe.

On a message board I frequently post to, there was a recent thread about charm schools, also known as finishing or etiquette schools.  Several people offered names of schools, which seemed to be of two types.

The more modern type, is directed to both men and women, and has an emphasis on business etiquette and professional relations.  A subset of this type are the schools that train would-be models and actors in poise, mannerisms, and the like that would aid in their chosen field.  Such schools are gender-neutral and are mainly about common sense good manners.

The second type, which I thought would have died out long ago, are directed solely at women, are meant to teach them how to be "ladies"; that is, how to be stereotypically "feminine".  Personally, I have no problem with the first type of school, but the hell with being a "lady".  I hear "lady", and my mind reels off a series of "A lady does not..."   I see being a lady, then, as something that restricts one's life, not as something that enhances common courtesy.

I think of "ladies" as those who don't like to get dirty, who always wear dresses, who play dumb in front of men, who have a case of the vapors if they hear a cuss word, who are prim and proper, and likes to put on airs.  When I was a kid in the sixties, I remember this one girl whose mother wouldn't allow her to wear pants to go out to play like the other girls did.  She wasn't allowed to climb trees, play baseball, or anything of this nature that all the other girls were doing.  I remember feeling sorry for her because she wasn't allowed to be just a kid, but had to be a "lady".

As far as I'm concerned a "Lady" is married to a "Lord".  Anything else is putting on airs and goes above and beyond simple good manners.

One commenter on this thread said:

All I can see is etiquette and 'refinement' for nieces, daughters and making 'ladies'. All female. Making 'good women'. I certainly think there's a need for etiquette in the good manners sense, but if parents are concerned, don't they teach these sorts of things?...In a world where employers share stories about young people in job interviews who cannot answer questions clearly, who mumble, who have poor hygiene and who turn up in tracksuits, then yes, I do wholeheartedly believe in good manners. "Being a lady"? "Refinement?" Leave that one for the royals and the dark ages.

Another commenter agreed:

What chafes me as well is that the concept of being "ladylike" is also related to antiquated notions that women should not be disagreeable or have strong opinions. It (again, for me) conjures images of ladies in hats and white gloves sipping tea with curled pinkies and implies that the standards of behavior are different for women than for men.

Another person couldn't understand the objection to being a "lady":

What's wrong with being a lady? Why is it suddenly a curse and a burden to be well mannered and refined in your comportment?

I replied to her:

What is being objecting to here is not good manners, per se, but the idea that there should be different criteria for what constitutes "good manners" based on one's sex, instead of having one standard for everyone.

And the objections are being raised about the etiquette classes that are aimed solely at young women; which seemingly presumes that women should be held to a higher standard of gentility than men and that it's OK for men to be a little boorish.  The problem isn't with the types of classes that cover professional business etiquette for both men and women, as good manners are good manners, regardless of sex.

Another commenter agreed:

To me, "ladylike" is defined more as unduly sensitive to propriety and decorum, and being excessively concerned with appearances. It also conveys a rigid class structure to me--a real lady is married to a lord. I see it as coming from a "good" family (not just nice people), marrying into an equally good family, and belonging to all the right clubs.

Not mentioned by any of the commenters was one underlying and unspoken purpose that these classes traditionally had for teaching women to be traditionally "feminine ladies".  That is, some women were sent to these classes in order to avoid having their sexual preference questioned.  This reason was especially true in organization where women were doing things traditionally thought of a "masculine".  The requirement that women in the Marines must wear makeup while on duty is a prime example of this mentality. (I'm not sure if this regulation is still in place, but it was in the 70s when a friend of mine joined the Marines).

Another example I remember was that of the All-­American Girls Baseball League, which was the women's professional baseball league from the forties and fifties that was featured in the 1992 movie, "A League of Their Own".  All players were required to attend a charm school, which taught them how to be stereotypically "feminine".  A beauty kit was even issued as part of their spring training!  The players were also required to wear short skirts during play and lipstick at all times, to not wear slacks or trousers at any time, and, preferably, to have long hair.  An idea of just how committed the League owners were committed to this idea can be seen in the Charm School Guide issued to all players.   All of this was to avoid the mistaken notion that any woman involved in an activity previously reserved for men had to be either lesbians or they wanted to be men themselves.

Though this attitude has largely died out now, it did carry forth several more decades, as I remember seeing pictures of some of the first female police patrol officers from the early 70s in miniskirts and high heels (imagine trying to chase a crook in a getup like that!)

I'm just a bit shocked and dismayed that charm schools that teach this type of gender-based etiquette can still exist in the 21st century.

That's my view -- from the perspective of a tomboy who turns fifty this year.

Sometimes, things happen that make you realize that you don't always know your own children as well as you thought you did.

The other day, while having a random conversation with my son, he stated out of the blue that he'd always wanted to be a high school English teacher. (He's in his late 20s now).

While my son has the intelligence to enter this profession, I was surprised to hear of his interest in it.  For starters, he's never been the studious type and to this day, he does not read for pleasure, I've always thought that a deep, abiding love for the written word would be a must for anyone wanting to teach English.  He's also previously shown no interest in attending college.

When I pointed this out to him, he told me that it wasn't so much that he didn't like to read, but, rather, that he had a hard time settling in to read with sufficient concentration.  Because my son was diagnosed as ADHD as a child, I understood where he was coming from.  As he's outgrown most of the symptoms of ADHD as an adult, I'd not realized that he still must contend with lingering traces of it.

And this brings me to my second point.  Because of the ADHD, he had a lot of trouble during his school years with lesser matters of expected behavior and discipline.  He was never a willful rule-breaker, nor did he ever break a major school rule or do anything that could be construed as being the slightest bit illegal.  Rather, his infractions were of the minor, but annoying type, which he constantly got in trouble for.  He couldn't sit still, he had a hard time being quiet for long periods of time, he lacked organizational skills and "stick-to-it-iveness"  Plus, with few exceptions, he did just enough work to pass and seemingly had little interest in excelling.  With few exceptions, his grades during his school years were mediocre at best.

Because the school district where he went to school took a rather old-fashioned one size fits all approach to teaching,  he had a tough row to hoe in school, with little or no understanding from the majority of his teachers.  Plus, the typical annoying behavior of the ADHD child that was apparent in his elementary and middle school years made him unpopular with other kids, to say the least, and he went through school with few friends.

Such an experience would have soured me from wanting to ever enter a school again, but that's just me.

But then I remembered that in his later years in school, as the more annoying manifestations of ADHD abated for him, he suddenly started doing well in two subjects: English and history.  Part of his success in these two subjects was the undeniable fact, that he finally got two superior teachers who broke the mold of the usual "one size fits all" teachers he'd had previously.  

For the first time in  his school life, he actually had enthusiasm for learning, coming home telling me what his history teacher had said about various topics, and, for a brief time, he read for pleasure, after discovering that he liked the classics.

So, the spark is there, but I didn't think that the enjoyment of his senior English class had inspired him to this degree and still be with him nearly ten years after graduation from high school.

He's got a fairly well paying blue collar job now, but I hope he'll have enough willpower to some day make this dream a reality.

I've been rather distracted lately.

At work, we lost three people in one day, so I've been having to work more to help cover their hours.  Thankfully, new people have been hired, so I should be returning to my normal schedule.  But the added hours have made me more tired than usual,which affects my concentration. 

So far as blogging goes, I'm having trouble right now coming up with things I want to write about.  If I had topics that inspired me, I'd be able to write, no matter how tired I was.  Writer's block for me is more about "what", rather than "how".

Secondly, I'm in the middle of writing my first fan fiction story in five years.  Other than writing song filks, my fiction writing mojo had gone dry and I'd feared it would never come back.   As I'd stated in a previous entry, I'd written 22 continuing Deep Space Nine stories over a space of five or six years back in the late 90s before the well ran dry.

Then I wrote a couple of longer stories based on the movie "The Patriot".   I was in the middle of a third story in that genre, when the inspiration ground to a halt.  I've never been able to return to that story, though I've felt guilty ever since about not finishing it.

I got into Harry Potter a little more than five years ago, and I'd long wanted to write a story in this world.  I toyed with several plot lines over the years, but beyond making a few notes in outline, I never was able to make an idea catch fire enough to get a story written.  Once I finished the last book, however, the urge to do a Potter story increased, and the ideas came to me more frequently and vividly.

Finally, after the first of the year, I was sufficiently inspired to outline several chapter and actually begin to write.  Tonight, I finished my eighth chapter and the story stands at nearly sixteen thousand words so far..  It takes me around a week or so to write each chapter.  I don't know exactly how many chapters I'll end up with, but once I get further into the story, I'll have a better idea on where to end it.

The story takes place after the end of the last book, and it's what's known as an "AU" story, which means "alternate universe".   This means that I don't stick strictly to every aspect of how the story was originally written.  Of course, with the story taking place after the ending of the last book, I've got a lot of leeway with that.

I won't tell what the story is about just yet, other than to give the title, "Hermione's Choice".  I will, however, post a notice here once I start posting chapters at Fan Fiction Net.

Writing fiction is a lot different and difficult for me than writing blog essays, and it requires more concentration.  So, while I'm in the midst of actively writing the story, the entries here will likely be few and far between.

I'm about to fall asleep over the computer, so I'll end this entry for now.

I've never like my first name.  It's not a "funny" name, but it's fancy and frilly, and has never suited my personality.  I'm more of the no-nonsense tomboy type who always wished for a simple name like Anna, Mary, Jane, Joan, or Lucy.  But, no, I got stuck with a four-syllable uber-feminine monstrosity of a name.  I've despised my name since my childhood, even to the point of cringing when I hear someone say it.

My middle name isn't one I'd have chosen for myself, either, but it's shorter and simpler, and a name I could live with.  Finally, after both my parents had passed away, I decided to use my middle name all the time in daily life, and not use my first name, except for on legal documents.  I would have liked to have chosen something completely new, but I thought that using my middle name, a name I'd had as long as the hated first name would be workable compromise.  It had the added benefit of something I didn't need to go to court for, as it was already part of my legal name.

The hardest part has been getting people to call me by my middle name.  At work, people just thought I was strange and continued to use my first name, anyway.  Even when I changed jobs and introduced myself to everyone on my first day with my middle name, as soon as they found out what my first name was, they started calling me by that.  Again, they just laughed at me and ignored my wishes.

I don't get it.  Lots of people are known by their middle names, rather than their first names, for various reasons.

I had a row with my sister tonight over this issue.  After eight years of using my middle name, she still insists upon referring to me by my first name.  Tonight, when she did so again, I told her not to call me by that and she said she was going to keep right on calling me that, regardless of my wishes, because that's the name she's always known me by.

Let me add here, that my sister also hated her first name and she chose a totally new name out of the blue and had it legally changed.  I've always made sure to address her by her new name, just because I believe that it is simply good manners to address a person in the way they prefer to be addressed.  She countered that she "doesn't mind" when people use her old name.   Then, why bother to change your name at all if you're going to have to answer to your old name all the time, anyway, for?

And I think it's faulty logic to justify the refusal to honor a person's preferred way of being addressed by saying "that's the name I've always known you by".  In other words, you're a stick in the mud and you refuse to adapt to change.

Women change their LAST names all the time and no one has any trouble adjusting to the change, nor do they insist upon continuing to refer to the woman by her birth surname simply because "that's the name I've always known you by".  People adjust to the new surname quickly enough and they address her by the new surname because it's common courtesy to address someone by the name they prefer to be known by.

I pointed this out to my sister, but she insisted it was "totally different",  Is it?  The only difference is I see is that one is more common and the other less common, but they both involve the common courtesy of addressing a person by the name they wish to be known by. 

I can understand a person forgetting the new name and using the old name at first, but to categorically refuse to call a person by the name they prefer is nothing other than plain rude to me.

And I don't understand why someone who says she loves me simply refuses to honor my wishes and extend this basic matter of common courtesy to me.

Have any of you experienced something like this?

Quote:
Why do people think that they are the first person to notice a person is overweight and that that Tubby needs to be enlightened?

I'm a garden-variety plus size woman who hasn't been slim for years and I'm unlikely to regain the figure I had at 18.  Fairly frequently, complete strangers, usually teenagers who shouldn't care what I look like in the first place, take it upon themselves to inform me that I'm fat.

I remember one time going off on someone who was the 9 millionth person or so who felt obligated to inform me that I did not have a fashionably slim figure.  Note that I'm not unusually fat -- I'm able to shop in Wal Mart, JC Penney, Sears, and the like -- but I'm bigger than most people you'd typically see on TV, with, perhaps, the exception of Conchata Ferrell.  I'm more of a Roseanne sized person, though much taller..

I said:

"Wow, you mustn't get out very much if seeing a fat person is so unusual to you that it's worth making a comment about. Millions of people are fat, so I'd advise you to get over it and get a life, already."

Sometimes, I'll simply answer;  So?

Unfortunately, some people seem to think that courtesy has a weight limit.  These same people who wouldn't dream of telling someone they had a big nose, acne-pitted skin, or a pronounced limp evidently believe that being fat has somehow forfeited a person from any expectations of common courtesy whatsoever.