magtonic : i don't wax poetic, i rant with precision

Not trying to bring up that Monica song, its just gray out. I have a fierce case of spring fever, am tired, and pretty desperate for some spare time. Like real, spare, nothing to do but sit on your bum and maybe soak in some sun, time.

So its one of THOSE days. And instead of ranting forreal, because I do have some things to say, but I'm just too enraged by them well not enraged but... too IN them to write just yet, here is a cake I made last week. Happy Monday.

"checkerboard cake"

I * should * be writing a proposal for my master's thesis. But I'm not. I was * supposed * to be writing it this afternoon, but instead I tried to take a nap and save Princess Peach with my Wii skills (a very well thought out frivolous birthday gift I received this weekend, timing of course not ideal).

Instead I have this for you, just trying to do my part, saving the world one rant at a time (copyright requested by Lalo3000 himself.)

On Monday I got an email from a brother in the angry mixed kid mafia. It read:

What is up with white girls?

What is up with girls?

Post SNTC Feminism?

But lately, the men around me seem to have encountered a plague. A plague of seemingly intelligent, beautiful, independent women who, in attempting  to work out their own shit, have taken to treating these otherwise good guys like the scum of the earth. Reasons have been listed in grocery list format, stated mid-argument or never named– only thought– and expected to be understood via psychic ability or telepathy.

In light of this I can't help but make some observations about the doods in question.

1. All these men are incredibly caring and compassionate with folks they love.
2. They do their best to be * good * people – exceptions being those vices whose "bad-for-you" quotient is subjective.
3. With the women in question, these men gave– too much in my opinon– and would have given more IF the option had been present.
4. They're smart, decent looking, funny, likable, doods.
   

(Note: Picture here is a real halloween costume of mine from a few years ago. Yes the sensor bar is actually glasses... I know, I'm a gangsta).

And the problems? Ranged from serious ("You lied, even to protect me, and thats a deal breaker" or "I have abandoment issues") to mediocre ("I'm just not over my ex.") to the absolutely ridiculous ("You can't be friends with women, thats just not possible." "You should never get mad while driving, ever.") *** Side note: uh... who doesn't bang the steering wheel, or flip off other drivers, at the very least?!***

And while I understand the first few, as the lists when on and on, the rationale seemed to become more and more confusing stupid. It all pointed to two things.

Insecurity and Absurdly High Expectations

So whose to blame? I'll tell you that I had a highly articulated rant working about who not to blame, and what insecurity and high expectations are based on, but decidedly, now, I'm just going balls out and ranting.

Life for independent, intelligent beautiful young women has new meaning now, now in 2009 in a post- Sex in The City/He's Just Not that Into You/ Out with the pants suit, Back in with the pencil skirt/ feminism.

Now we're supposed to assert ourselves in our careers, early on. You can be a stay at home mom, work at home mom, occasionally work outside of the home mom or no children at all working women.

Shoulda put a ring on it

We're supposed to say NO. We won't take that. We WILL NOT settle. "He's just not that into you," try "It wouldn't have worked out anyway because you'd find some crazy imperfection in him that is a deal breaker."

I get it. I won't settle. I want the job. I want the power. But PLEASE. When did taking risks become settling. When did perfection become the ultimatum. There is no perfect man. No actually yes there is. No there isn't. I love you. I don't. You're great. You're not great b/c I don't like the way you cut your hair.

GIVE ME AN EFFING BREAK AND MAKE UP YOUR DAMN MIND. We're back to a world of YAY women/power/equality, but at the expense of other women and now even the "few" (used quite liberally b/c i believe its more than a few) decent men.

Is the nouveau feminism of 2009 going to boil heterosexual relationships down into a “He’s a Mr. Big/Berger/ Aiden?”

Will we constantly find a way to be seemingly independent but still back stab those around us, under the guise that we’re independent, and if ya liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it?

Cause if so, I’m opting out.

Ok y'all, without pretense February is always rough for me. Its the one part of the year that seems to get sucked up into a vortex controlled by anything but me. That said I seem to also reserve all my going out and acting my age for the week between 2/13 and 2/20. At least thats been the trend the last two years.

And what separated the two years is the fact that last years festivities began with an outing to a dance club populated primarily by Filipinos and their friends, dancing to hip-hop, soul and funk. This year it was, without our knowledge a "black valentine's day masquerade ball" where the djs would spin the best in "zombie music" aka drum and base.

Here are some observations:
2008: Average height in the club was 5'7''.
2009: Average height was 5' 10''. (This is even if you include the 3 Filipino guys who had no idea the theme night would eff up their game)

2008: I was not, nor would I ever be one of the fly girls in the club.
2009: With the exception of my crew, I think it was good the lights were off.

2008: We were all carved from the same "genre" of fashion. Variations were present but not too much.
2009: No holds bar fashion.
– Best Facial Piercing: PORCUPINE NEEDLE THROUGH NOSE
– Best Fit: one dude in full on army fatigues circa WWI.
– Best Ladies Accessory (Tie): Feathered masquerade mask in shape of butterfly & LARGE stuffed panda bear head as hat
– Others: Honorary mentions to the 4 people sporting top hats (must have been in honor of Lincoln's bday). 

Make no mistake, it was fun and BOY did I feel FLY. It was for my homegirl's bday whom I adore, but at 12:30 I was ready to go. Why?

Socially Appropriate Use of Club Floor

My cultural observation. White people dance almost exclusively with wild arm jestures. They swing, they punch they throw elbows. Its true of many of my extremely racially segregated dance experiences. While I love it when people feel music I must make a point to note that this is not and should never be accepted in exceptionally crowded spaces where moshing is not mandatory.

Most other cultures dance with their hips, their feet, they use their arms but do not look like they are batting away flies or airing out their arm pits.

 I like to get down– get funky. But there comes a point, in a sea of peachy toned skins when I've received one too many elbows to the head (Note: I was a founding memeber of the 5' 2'' and under club at my high school).  And while this may seem remarkably similar to my rant on busses I feel there are a few differences.

When some lady shoves her Marc by Marc Jacobs bag in my face, I can only hope it has a face smug, or I can just give her a smug look.

When some 6 foot tall guy wearing a tank top and small top hat with feathers elbows me in the temple, and then the eye because he's feeling the beat, I am left with few dignified otions, no maybe none.

Option 1: Get mad. Get in face. Get told I'm being a typical angry brown girl. (Maybe not by him, but someone). Note: This is why I don't drink tequila.

Option 2: Get mad. Start Taibo style kicking and karate chopping (a move originally coined to get away from creepy guys who don't understand that you don't want to dance with them). End up being joined by tall guy who thinks you've got great moves and looking straight up like Chun Li.

Option 3: Get mad. Move. Have different 6 something white guy, or girl do the same.

Option 4: Leave.

Please understand, I adore when people FEEL the music. I love catching a glance of someone in the car really dancing like no one is there. But WHEN did feeling the groove mean THROWING ELBOWS. I know in this individualist mess of America people have no respect for personal space, but once a brown person throws an elbow they're getting violent. When someone with less melanin does, they're just feeling the music. Eff that.

Get with it or go home.

Kare-kare (not mine, via wikipedia)

The other day I was cooking a modified version of a Filipino dish called Kare-Kare; chicken (vs. ox tail which is normally used) stewed in a peanut sauce thickened with rice powder along side green beans and eggplant. Sounds simple but there's a few other necessities that don't impact my point at all. My point, or perhaps rant that day, was that I find it SO odd that certain foods, the ones that are either known to bad for you, or used to be "peasant food" are now so en vogue.  When I was a kid ox tails were incredibly cheap. I was a little embarrassed to eat them to be truthful. Now, that shit is expensive, and we NEVER get to eat them. Same goes for short ribs, and other cuts of meat I really shouldn't begin to start discussing.

So today, when I decided to stop by one of my favorite gossip blogs, there was a post depicting this a site which sent me into a bit of a convulsion.

DIY Bacon Man (thank you dlisted)

On some real, for really reals shit I have a confession. I don't actually love bacon, like the rest of the world right now (read: New York Time's article on the "Bacon Sausage", my chocolate covered bacon adventure last summer, etc.). Actually, honestly, without pretense, I don't even like bacon. I might actually hate bacon.

Maybe its one of those things I ate too much of over my lifetime, though I know it was not a staple in our house.

Maybe I'm just missing a link and the salty smokey-crunchyness that the entirety of America is obsessed with just misses me.

Bacon Lovin (and toast, ala fredflare)

Did I miss something? Why is bacon loving so hip? Is bacon the latest appropriation of previously scoweled upon American cultural phenomenon by foodies, snooties and hipsters? (read: Items found on fredflare.com... mind you I had seen these before and nicely gathered a collection of them for you by searching the word 'bacon') 

For godsake how many vegetarians crack because of bacon? Oh so many.

But I just can't do it. My bacon aversion is so high its almost like an automatic response to shiver, or say no.

I like food. I guiltily frequent foodie blogs and experiment with my own cooking. Baking, experimenting with recipes that abide by my dood's new diet (no time to explain right now). I can get with it on most points... But whatever this foodie trend of bacon EVERYTHING is about, I'll leave it to the rest of you. (On an End note: I actually think the "tofu vs. bacon food fight!" figurines are hilarious).  
 

Thank you yesterday's Jezebel:

The Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Baily Center for Elephant conservation has announced the birth of its first elephant calf conceived via artificial insemination. The baby Asian elephant is named Barack. Take that GOP!

His relatives...

I could never be a vegan. I rely too much on meat due to my diet based primarily of Filipino or Mexican food. I also love sneakers (as you may have figured out), too much to not wear leather.  In fact, those are just a few reasons I could never be a vegan.

Don't get me wrong. I'll try and support natural sustainable friendly farming when I can, and by that I mean when I can afford to do it regularly. But some things, I just couldn't let go of.

I firmly believe that if you are a vegan, it is completely back-asswards (yes you read that right) to wear leather sneakers– particularly if they are Nike's, Adidas, Pumas etc. Case in point: There was an entire group of guys at my college who were vegans and spoke of social justice and revolution and what not but all had squeaky clean kicks. We called them the 'Activist Frat'.

So is this situation, and others like it, The Activists Paradox?

Right now I live, breathe and eat the words "social justice," "equity," as well as other buzz words related to education and improving it.

As an undergrad I lived, breathed and ate all things related to race/ethnic studies & the sociologies of the two.

So naturally I've always encountered different degrees of what I'm naming here, the Activists Paradox. But now... now its manifesting in other ways. Now it's just blatant indifference to certain behaviors that I would have otherwise, at one point or another, not stood for.

Long story short: I splurged on a manicure. I don't do it often but I thought what the hell. I'm more of a pedicure kind of girl b/c if given the opportunity, I'd live somewhere that did not require closed toed shoes ever, barefootedness recommended. In browsing the colors I came across a weird whiteish-beigeish color called "Let them Eat Rice Cake". Buggin! It bothered me, but not enough to ignore other colors with weird names. In the past I have been known to actually choose colors based primarily on their names (the brand at the salon I frequent is particularly clever with this) like "Cajun Shrimp" and "My Chihuahua Bites." Today I choose a neutral called "Miso Happy with this Color," which I, even with my initial reaction to the first color, seemed to be indifferent to. "They're a UK company", I thought.  "They're just being cheeky."

But it wasn't until I walked home that I was bothred more, not by the colors or the company, but by my indifference.  Is the nail polish battle a battle to be dealt with? Should I feel wrong that in all the work I do to work with equity, equality and diversity, I still have room to wear like 2 cents worth of nail polish with a possibly racist name? (I will note the entire cost of the manicure is for the expert cuticle trimming, nail shapping and hand massage, so get with it).

Racist Polish 3

I can't say that I care as much about something like that. I care about the big things. The blatant things. But how blatant is it? After 'googlizing' the first rice related color I came across the company's other ethnic collections. And while they might be wrong. And they might be disturbing... they're kind of clever and crack my shit up. Here are some favorites, shameful favorites. The colors I could care less about, but man these are clever puns. I'll work out the Activist Paradox in time. For now I need laughs.

11:22am Saturday.

geeoff sends me this:

Obama_toast

This Mutha Fucka....  (via Jezebel)

Don (EM EFFING) KIng