Whenever I tell people that I'm really quite lazy about sewing and cooking, usually they scoff at me. "But you actually cook!" Yes, but I don't put much effort into it. "But you actually make stuff you wear!" Yes, but I skip steps and don't put in zippers unless I absolutely have to. I realise we will never agree on this alleged laziness.
Perhaps cheap is a better descriptor. I'm cheap with my time, and to me that seems lazy. If I can make something faster than it would take to go out and get something from a restaurant, I will make it at home. If I can make a dress that I'll like in less time than it would take me to find one, I will sew it.
And it's not just cheap with time. I'm cheap, period.
One thing that bothers me is paying a lot of money for clothing that will either look out of place in a few months or that will fall apart because of poor quality. Would I rather pay $100 for a dress that fits pretty good or $8 for the fabric for a dress that I can keep tweaking and finish so it will never fall apart? Would I rather pay for a subpar meal or pay extra for good ingredients for an at-home recipe? Probably the latter. But maybe it all just comes down to the fact that I'm cheap.
I am OK with being cheap. Cheap is economical. Some would say frugal. I am taking back cheap as a bad thing because if I weren't cheap I would be in debt. So cheap is OK with me.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
grumble grumble
This morning on the train, a skinny Asian woman, probably in her late 20s, offered me her seat. I am guessing she thought I looked pregnant, though I looked at my belly when I got to work and I don't see whatever she saw. There were other women standing up, so it couldn't have been because she didn't really want to sit down. But it put me in a fowl mood.
Why can't someone just be fat anymore?
If thin women actually looked at women who aren't skinny, perhaps I wouldn't have to tell them that I'm not pregnant every 5 or 6 months. If my body type were represented anywhere in society, I wouldn't have to explain my body to people who mistake me for pregnant.
I'm sure I'm just being sensitive. Being a single, barren woman, I shouldn't be so offended by the suggestion that someone would impregnate me. But I am. It undermines my self esteem. I can't help that my body carries fat in the way it does, and the amount of work I need to do to not have fat on my body is more than I'm willing to do. I resent that my body can't just *be*; it has to be judged whenever I wear certain clothes. And no matter how much care I put into dressing or how happy I feel about my body, it will always be negated when someone suggests I'm so fat that I look pregnant.
As my mother would say, I'm the one who has to wear it. If people kept their mouths shut about my body, maybe I wouldn't always be so conscious of it.
Why can't someone just be fat anymore?
If thin women actually looked at women who aren't skinny, perhaps I wouldn't have to tell them that I'm not pregnant every 5 or 6 months. If my body type were represented anywhere in society, I wouldn't have to explain my body to people who mistake me for pregnant.
I'm sure I'm just being sensitive. Being a single, barren woman, I shouldn't be so offended by the suggestion that someone would impregnate me. But I am. It undermines my self esteem. I can't help that my body carries fat in the way it does, and the amount of work I need to do to not have fat on my body is more than I'm willing to do. I resent that my body can't just *be*; it has to be judged whenever I wear certain clothes. And no matter how much care I put into dressing or how happy I feel about my body, it will always be negated when someone suggests I'm so fat that I look pregnant.
As my mother would say, I'm the one who has to wear it. If people kept their mouths shut about my body, maybe I wouldn't always be so conscious of it.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
worst case
So. The fork. The fork has turned into a knife, and points in one direction: to nowhere.
With 2 hours left in my shift, the head of the library came by the ref desk and let me know that, yes, the selection process is taking a little longer than anticipated because there was a surprise internal candidate. Apparently one of the sessional instructors in Classics just finished his MLIS (*just* finished and has never worked as a librarian anywhere) and, because he's technically still within the faculty association, is considered internal. He didn't bother to stop by the library (ever, in fact. No one has ever met him) to ask about the position; he just applied. Even though it was posted as an internal/external job, meaning anyone can be considered. But... he's internal. So he gets interviewed for suitability and I get to, once again, miss out on the job that I want. Rarely do they pass up the internal candidate.
When she told me, I had to figure out how to not fall apart on the desk. But now I really don't feel like going to that job anymore. I give up.
Do you ever have those "It's a Wonderful Life" moments? Not the part where you realise people are there for you in your worst time. The part where the only thing you can think of to do is to lean over a bridge and wish aloud that you were never born. When you have no idea what point there is in being alive because you feel like you're not doing anything worthwhile, that you're not making a difference to anyone. Because that's kind of how my day has been going. Hopefully this feeling goes away tomorrow.
When I was feeling miserable in Japan, I would carry sea glass from Beacon Hill Park in my pocket and rub the smooth surface to feel better. It was reassuring. I eventually gave all my sea glass to other people who seemed to need it more than I did. I just don't know where to get a sea glass substitute anymore without drugging the nothingness away.
With 2 hours left in my shift, the head of the library came by the ref desk and let me know that, yes, the selection process is taking a little longer than anticipated because there was a surprise internal candidate. Apparently one of the sessional instructors in Classics just finished his MLIS (*just* finished and has never worked as a librarian anywhere) and, because he's technically still within the faculty association, is considered internal. He didn't bother to stop by the library (ever, in fact. No one has ever met him) to ask about the position; he just applied. Even though it was posted as an internal/external job, meaning anyone can be considered. But... he's internal. So he gets interviewed for suitability and I get to, once again, miss out on the job that I want. Rarely do they pass up the internal candidate.
When she told me, I had to figure out how to not fall apart on the desk. But now I really don't feel like going to that job anymore. I give up.
Do you ever have those "It's a Wonderful Life" moments? Not the part where you realise people are there for you in your worst time. The part where the only thing you can think of to do is to lean over a bridge and wish aloud that you were never born. When you have no idea what point there is in being alive because you feel like you're not doing anything worthwhile, that you're not making a difference to anyone. Because that's kind of how my day has been going. Hopefully this feeling goes away tomorrow.
When I was feeling miserable in Japan, I would carry sea glass from Beacon Hill Park in my pocket and rub the smooth surface to feel better. It was reassuring. I eventually gave all my sea glass to other people who seemed to need it more than I did. I just don't know where to get a sea glass substitute anymore without drugging the nothingness away.
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