Be People

I work in IT. I train jiu-jitsu. I don’t like the color pink. I grew up playing catch with my dad. I still have my ninja turtles. I am not gay (or closeted).

I don’t think that being a woman or a man or being attracted to one sex or another is relevant to what I should do or like.

I don’t care for you or anyone else to tell me (or any man or woman) what it is to be a man or a woman or gay or strait (or anything else).

Let us just be people and have/make our own identities.

I shouldn’t feel like I have to shout things like this to the sky (or blog), but every now and then I have a conversation with someone I respect that really makes me feel like I need to chisel words into a mountain so it’s as visible from a million miles away.

Each generation we may be getting closer to that world where people are allowed to just be people, but moments like this I feel like it’s more of an impossible dream. If we can’t even do this with gender, the most basic of two human categories we’re stuffed in, how are we going to get past issues of race or religion?

I can always think back to where we were as society even a few generations back. We have come so far. I’m trying to be patient, but this kind of patience can be very trying.

Beautiful Bruises

WARNING: This post contains a woman’s yearly checkup, mentions of birth control, and shaving. While no graphic details are provided, those who use the letters “TMI” frequently might want to browse away. Oh, and I farted while writing this! :D


It’s getting to be close to that time where I have to make a doctors appointment to have my yearly checkup. If I don’t go, they’ll stop giving me my birth control prescription which will make me sick, sick, sick on a monthly basis. I’m a pretty healthy young woman who works out, doesn’t eat too much crap, doesn’t smoke, etc., so this should be a walk in the park, right?

Unfortunately, that’s not how my appointment last year went. I ended up not having an appointment with my regular doctor since I didn’t want to take a whole day off of work (everything in the morning was booked).

A little more than a month before my appointment is when I started training Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. Big surprise, I had more than a few bruises. This happened when I used to play paintball too. I didn’t think much of it before the appointment.

What I’m used to when I go to the doctor is they ask all about how you’re doing with big smiles and what’s going on in your life. They weigh you and listen to your heart. The uncomfortable parts are the down-there-doctoring they have to do, not the social part.

That appointment was awkward all around. I was asked a little about how things were going and I mentioned my new martial arts training which I was very excited about. I was already used to the, “What’s that? Like karate?” reaction, but I didn’t expect the disgust when I explained what it was. This woman might as well have told me to get in the kitchen and find a husband already with the looks she gave me and how little she wanted to hear about it. I don’t know if it was because it sounded scary, manly, or I told her that yes, I train with both men and women, etc. I also didn’t care. This was my doctors appointment. I didn’t expect to be judged on my choice of preferred sports.

Once the actual exam began, so did the questions about my bruises. I’ve already explained that I participate in a full contact grappling martial art, but apparently she was still surprised and confused as to why I had bruises. I reiterated what Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu was and even tried explaining what we’d been working on. I had a good idea of what moves some of the bruises were from. She went from disgust to not believing me. Apparently, if a woman has bruises, she’s being abused by someone and lying about it.

I mentioned that I could prove that I did the martial art if she cared. My membership card is on my key chain. She didn’t care. She didn’t even want to discuss it. She just went on to examine every single bruise and scribble on her notepad. I asked what she was doing, I was told she was ‘documenting’.

She was especially interested in a bruise I had on my chest. That was the obvious clincher someone was abusing me apparently. As I originally typed this, I had a bruise on my chest. No, I don’t know exactly how I got it. It could have been from someone putting on a tight near side armbar on me, with their legs tightly pressed down. It could have been from a too high knee on belly. It could have been from me trying to break someone posture when they were in my guard and them falling and pushing off of me with a hand, elbow, head, whatever. There are a lot of scenarios I can think of. I don’t know how it got there. It’s a bruise the size of a coin. Who cares?

I can’t imagine what women who are being abused go through when they go to the doctor. This woman was not being friendly, warm, or comforting. She came off as accusatory. I am aware that people who are abused in any way, shape, or form usually already think it’s somehow their own fault. With the amount of disgust she was giving off from the beginning, no woman would have felt comfortable admitting anything to her anyways.

I was disgusted and offended on all of those levels. I felt for every woman athlete and every abused woman. I came into the doctors expecting to have the first appointment without the vague questions about, “Well, are you happy with your weight?” since I was working out harder than I ever had in my entire life.

After we moved beyond the bruises, I was asked about my sex life. I am prescribed birth control, so okay, makes sense. I mentioned I was starting to see someone at that point which may or may not turn into something. Once again, no happy comments for me for something I thought was a good thing. I expected a ‘congrats’ or ‘good for you’. What I got was a lecture about condom usage and STDs. I’m sure my little file there said that I’d been on birth control since I was seventeen, not to mention my current age. If you don’t believe I use condoms, I can show you the ones I carry in my purse just in case… but then would she take that to mean I was promiscuous? I was done trying to win with this lady.

The ridiculousness reached a peak when I got a lecture about the razor burns on my bikini line. I have sensitive skin and have tried a lot of things not to get razor burn there and under my arms when shaving. The only thing I’ve found that works 100% is: not shaving. In this case, I’d shaved fairly recently which I’d think any doctor might be thankful for, but no… I was quizzed about why I was shaving so much down there. I just looked at her. Then was told to “be careful” and that I could give myself an infection, etc. I didn’t even get any good tips on how to prevent razor burn. So, thanks for nothing. I’ll just continue to use the shaving gel that claims it’s “Bumps Free!!” and Neosporin afterwards when I do shave…

So, this was a few months shy of a year ago. Since then I’ve been proud of every single bruise I’ve had. To me, it means I’m tough stuff. It’s a symbol that I’m working hard, that I’m not afraid, and that I am training with tough people who aren’t afraid to work hard with me. I’ve never had any injury from Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu that has been doctor-worthy. I don’t usually notice any new bruises until I take a shower later or someone points them out. I actually bruise less and less as time goes on. I think my body is just becoming tougher stuff, because I’ve done the opposite of slowing down.

If this is the reaction I get to some tiny bruises on my body, I can’t wait for a black eye. Bring it on. It’s sad that it doesn’t occur to me to be worried about injuries except with knowing the sexism I’ll have to deal with.

I’ll deal with pride and humor. Maybe I’ll make some Fight Club reference. I’m sure I’ll wear my smile and Gracie Barra t-shirt as accessories. I’m a real kind of woman, the kind that identifies as person first, then a woman. That makes some people uncomfortable. I don’t mind, but I still don’t want to have to deal with their discomfort. Stand aside. I have goals to achieve and fun to have. Guess what? I’ve run all out of bubble gum, and you know what that means…

I like playing Katamari Damacy, but I prefer to roll around in real life. From the mats, with love, me.

Connections Crossing

Life: the waking dream that hazes between points of rest. Each moment is taking place in an external world that my inner world just made up based on that same external world made up by everyones’ own inner world. I dream so vivid that times asleep become more real than the day to day.

I keep searching for truth and on the way I often fancy the notion I’ve found some. We make our own truth and it only becomes more and more apparent as we trust what our senses tell us. Our senses hear what others chose to feed us. Even as we accept it as reality, we know that deep down we’re victims of everyone’s filter, especially our own. We experience a reflection of a reflection spiraling off into eternity, so we may as well be blind.

I’m bound to this world the same as everyone else. Sometimes I get notions of how really lost and alone we all are as a whole who shares the same wants. Humanity, the race of contradictions, struggles to see behind the masks of one another. When I look at you, I try to see past our posturing and learned responses.

Connection crosses us so easily and is severed with the slightest touch. As we’re all seeking it as savagely as we pull away from one another, it’s a wonder we survive.

The Tech Support Callers Everyone Loves

…and by loves, we mean we love that we have job security and can secretly feel superior. We remind ourselves this every day. It’s a mantra that keeps us going back to the phones no matter who we have to talk to.

Here is a short list of some of the regulars who call phone tech support. What a coincidence, these people call you too?

If you think you are one of these people, I assure you, the people who do these things know not what they do.

The Nommer
This guy waited until his lunch break to call you. How do you know? Because he’s nomming, slurping, and smacking in your ear. Just when you think it can’t get any worse, he pops a cough drop in his mouth and starts clicking it against his teeth in your ear.

“…click-clock-click …smnosh-smnosh… Yersh, Ihve jrest shent crunch… gulp… you an email with the error.”

The Ummer
This customer is characterized by uncontrollable verbal tics such as: “Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”. We also have, “um”, “er”, “ah”, “like”, and ending every sentence as if it were a question. A lot of people sound smarter than they are, but these people never do.

“Er. Um… Uuuhhh… I have… like…. Ah. Veesta Ultimate?”

“Ummmm… I’m running… like… the newest one, Snow Leopards..?”

The Entitled User
When people are way too good to know anything about their own computer (or try to check for you), check system requirements, or take responsibility for messing something up (or at least not blame it on you), there is a good chance they are an Entitled User. There’s nothing you can do, say, or fix that will change that fact.

“Why do you make this so complicated? It should just work. What do you mean this won’t run on my computer? You have to support Windows 2000. I’m going to put you on hold. I need to reboot my computer.”

I use Vista, Have UAC Still Turned On, and the VOLUME PUMPED
I don’t know what the call is about yet, but I know it will be painful more due to the fact I have to listen to:

“BOM!”

every time I ask you to do anything.

Can You Hear Me Now?
This guy is jealous of your headset. He cannot type or use a mouse with one hand. He thinks that speaker phone works with his dog barking, children crying, and wife talking to him in the background.

Even better, he’s in traffic not even at his computer. How does he expect to troubleshoot the issue? I don’t know either.

Noise

Idiot Pirates (ur doin it rong)
“So… I downloaded this from a website and I can’t get it to work right. Yeah… I didn’t buy it. It’s the free version. I don’t know what pirating is and I don’t think I’m doing that, but my friend said there was this free version. So I went there and I downloaded it and now it doesn’t work. Can you help me?”

Conspiracy Theorist
This guy is super paranoid. You’re out to steal his identity, send him spam, break his computer, and take his money and still not get anything working. He is not going to give you the info you need to solve the problem. He wont even give email address so you can look up and see what he has or send him a fix. What he somehow doesn’t realize is that he’s already given you (the company you work for) all of his info. What he doesn’t know is that you’re trying to help him and his identity is not worth stealing (since apparently it’ll mean an ulcer).

If you get far enough, he might start letting you know what he thinks the issue *really* is and insist you should check into it. These will not be plausible theories, they will be somewhere in left field or even outer space.

“Why do you need my email address? No! I’m not giving that to you. As it is, your company’s website has already broken my computer.”

Yeah I Tried That. It Didn’t Work.
You’ll wrack your brain. You’ll troubleshoot until your brain bleeds. I, the customer, will then admit I didn’t actually do what you told me to about twenty minutes (or three emails) later. It’ll be fun. Whee.

“*Sigh* Ya… I did that already. Of course I did.”

When The Dinosaurs Were Old
“I remember when we didn’t even have computers. What start menu? What’s that? Slow down there… you’re going to have to repeat that. I’m not very computer savvy like you youngsters. You have to understand… *long unrelated story*. Wait, you don’t make this? I called the wrong number? Are you sure?”

“(horrified voice) I might need to upgrade!?”

Anger Management
I don’t know what’s wrong or how serious it is, but I’m angry and I need someone to blame. It’s not my fault, so guess who’s going to take the fall? I’m not interested in getting this working so much as ripping out your heart and eating it.

It’s not that the customer is always right, it’s that he or she HAS a right… that is the right to verbally abuse you.

“$%*&^%”

Times I’m Glad To Be Single Again

“Hey, Cindy, I should tell you since you told me when you started dating someone- I’m dating someone now!”

“Oh, that’s great!”

“Yeah. She’s really hot… and cool…. but I’m afraid she might be psycho.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t know what to do though… because she’s really cool and really hot, and interesting… like she’s mature and intelligent, she like reads and does experimental films and stuff. She graduated from Mass Art.”

“But you think she might be crazy… like artist crazy, or head for the hills psycho girlfriend crazy?”

“Well… I just would never want to be on her bad side… like ever make her angry. She told me this story. She was riding her bike, because she’s into riding bikes. Her and her bike are close.”

“Got it.”

“And this big truck like cuts her off and almost kills her. So at the next light, she like screams at him and gives him the finger and stuff. She’s all, ‘I’ll fight you!! Come out here and fight me!'”

“To the truck?”

“Yeah. He screamed back at her. So she does it again at the next light. He kinda ignores her. So she does it again at the third light and… you know what?”

“What?”

“He spits on her.”

“Ew. That sucks. I can see her going off on the guy, though, almost having been run over.”

“Yeah. True. She told me about this other time her roommate decked her in the face.”

“Really? Why?”

“I have no idea. You must have to do or say something really bad for your roommate to punch you in the face.”

“What was the reason she gave?”

“She said she didn’t know… she was just yelling at her room mate and she got punched.”

“Just yelling? Oh, yeah, no biggie- getting in someone’s face and yelling. I don’t know man. All I know is that you brought her up and didn’t say, ‘She’s nice.’ or ‘I really am happy when I’m with her.’, you said she’s cool, hot, and might be psycho. I’m just repeating back to you what the first qualities you told me were…”

“…yeeeeeah.”

“But, y’know, if you are happy now and just dating, as long as she hasn’t like screamed at you and you haven’t seen any big warning signs, maybe see where it goes… Just make sure you do the right thing at the first sign of anything really crazy.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Besides, you haven’t dated anyone in awhile… maybe you’re just being a little paranoid… a little over cautious.”

“No way. Nope. I’m not. I really think she might be psycho.”

“Oh. Uh. Hm… I don’t know. If you’re that sure… I mean, do what you want.”