Thoughts of a Serious Nature

So I read this:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/tracy-mcmillan/why-youre-not-married_b_822088.html

and this:
http://www.villagevoice.com/2011-02-09/news/dear-single-women-of-nyc-it-s-not-them-it-s-you/

And then a response to it here:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/brienne-walsh/an-open-letter-to-the-wom_b_829378.html


I wanted to pull this for you all:

"But I grew up in a generation of women that literally never stopped hearing that marriage isn't a fairy tale. We were fed statistics about divorce in the same way that the Baby Boomer generation was bombarded with ICBM figures. Daily, we were told that men were not Prince Charming, that they would not vanquish a dragon to save us, rescue us from a tower or even just fight their way through a double transfer on the subway to come kiss
us goodnight.

And so we learned how to expect literally nothing from a man. And do you know what happened because of that? We learned to let men treat us like crap. We came to believe that men were doing us a favor by settling down -- because otherwise they would be out spraying the world of willing women with their abundant seed. We were taught to be grateful if a man showed interest in us, and we became fearful at all times that he would leave us once he did. Women of my generation are still the second-class citizens of
fairy tales: only now, we don't even have the chivalry or the ever-blooming roses to comfort us in our eternal boredom."

" For the first time in my life, someone openly acknowledged the dirty dark secret of my generation of women. And that is that all of the qualities we cultivate in ourselves from our first overachieving moments in elementary school to our graduation from the best universities in the nation -- confidence in our physical appearance, the ability to support ourselves, our cultured and well-read minds, the sterling pedigree of our schooling, our taste for healthy debate with our peers (both men and women) -- actually won't help us to find an equal partner. What it will do is make an "equal" man feel insecure, and what he will do with that insecurity is label us as "crazy." And crazy people aren't to be taken seriously -- they're to be medicated, dosed, tamed like "Kate," the eponymous shrew -- and made into the perfect wife. In essence, in order to participate in the ritual custom of marriage, we have to become shadows of our best selves."

More thoughts on this later.

thank you, doctor curly

"For those who believe in God, most of the big questions are answered. But for those of us who can't readily accept the God formula, the big answers don't remain stone-written. We adjust to new conditions and discoveries. We are pliable. Love need not be a command nor faith a dictum. I am my own god. We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us."
— Charles Bukowski

Hello, the internet!

I have recipes and adventures and stories to tell. I have a new pirate-car and a charming pirate-abode (that looks Harry Potter, I'm told). I look forward to seeing you all again!

Pensive Pirate is Pensive.

I'm enjoying sound pirate labor in the fine Central West End neighborhood, pouring drinks and serving fishes, among other delicious foods. I'm deepening my love-hate relationship with the Vitamix and turning out delicious smoothies. They are better with rum, I assure you.

As always, I'm seeking more work, because a pirate loves nothing more than in the off-season, while wintering, to build up the pirate-stash of doubloons. Have to finance summer raiding somehow, yes?

I'm likely to take an excursion to Wentzville's Pirate Fest, coming up here in September, to drink cider and rum in the sunshine and tell too many jokes about ARRRRgyle socks.

Wonderful Things About Pennsic XXXIX:

1) Roasted whole goats, served with date sauce, in good company.
2) The 10th Anniversary party hosted by Iron Lance for Piers and Jules (spelling surely botched, entirely my own). There was a 25-lb snapping turtle delivered to the bar as a present, and shots of rum poured off the boar's head for Pennsic virgins.
3) There was epic dancing around many a camp fire, and the kindling and care of darling hookahs.
4) I filked Ani diFranco for the SCA. I'll post the lyrics once they've been tweaked, and will likely torment your ears with my rendition of it sometime in person soon. "Life in the SCA ain't easy, but the folk on the outside don't know..."
5) I learned a variant of "Nay, no never" to use in sharpening my SCAdian geography. My thanks to Baroness Lianette of the East for singing it to me.
6) The Canadians had brought a solar-powered 2-keg-large refrigeration unit. Amazing! Shared baked brie in their encampment, and heard some wonderful songs.
7) Work for the Pillaged Village was grueling but rewarding; I still have dreams/nightmares of checking in and pricing belly dance gear.
8) My tent is dead. Long live the tent!

Pennsic War XXXIX !

Most of this fine war in the Debatable Lands was spent working for merchants, however there was a smidgen of time for classic war pursuits. Bardic circles, dancing around fires, attending classes, consumption of spuriously-colored-beverages, meeting new friends, creation of delicious foods, general antics and enabling vice or virtue, depending on the light levels...

I was easily identifiable due to epic hair cut of wrath, for better or for worse. I also ate only 2 slices of bacon the entire war, an accident, I assure you, but one I won't let happen again. I now have one saturated, broken tent drying out in the backyard, a kitty cat happy to see me home, and about 8 loads of laundry in process.

With a few days to process, install filters, and verify, I'll have generated a few lovely war-stories suitable for public consumption.

Events which I have become more blase about this spring:

It's been a long summer. Content temporarily pulled for editing.

excellent. pilgrim's progress continues.

I still have 670 new e-mails of the 1,000+ from the 20-days at/recovering from Lilies War. Please continue to be patient with me, I am responding as quickly as humanly possible.

I am still boxing, scrubbing, cleaning, moving, and striving not to unpack anything and failing. I now have zero dollars, some pocket change, and way too much need for an industrial-strength vacuum.

The hatred I have for this convent and its violations of the laws of thermodynamics knows no bounds. In four hours, the allotted time will have expired. I declared Friday that ere the fine city of Saint Louis failed to net me paying work by 9 a.m. Monday, I would begin the process of moving south to NOLA or north to OMAHA.

Now the craigslisting begins in earnest. I have no actual cash-money or W-2 jobs, in spite of a week of schmoozing, cruising, dropping apps and hoping/praying. Fuck this shit. Fuck this city (or not, rather). I am exhausted, I am impoverished, and I am applying for government assistance like a paper-work-monster.

Dear US Government: I paid all my taxes, even when I made little-to-no-money ever, at all. I dream of a day where in a calendar year I net more than $10,000 - $14,000. I made/had more money as a professional student. Now I'd like to benefit from the pseudo-Socialism that upsets the main-line Republican party so much. Thanks you!

In good news, all this industrial-strength cycling is adding definition to my thighs. Awesomesauce! My core muscles are improved, as are biceps and forearms. When I grow up, I will be an epic fencer for my kingdom. DRACO INVICTUS!