The overlap of abuse

 (Warning for discussion of domestic abuse)
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You often hear it said that someone can be a bad parent while remaining a good spouse, or vice versa. I think this really depends on the nature and degree of "bad." There are parents incapable of divided attention who dote on each other so much that they emotionally neglect their children. There are also parents who are aloof or unfaithful romantic partners but are incredibly dedicated to their kids. If abuse is involved, though, there is no possible way for a person to be adept at one role while failing the other. Abusing their partner's child is abusive to their partner by proxy, as is abusing their partner even if they don't extend the behavior to the kid. It shows the parent or child a complete disregard for the safety of someone so important to them (assuming that both parents aren't mistreating the child together). There's also an implicit threat of "you could be next"--even if it's never acted upon.

Beck vision

I don't know how Beck does it with his lyrics, but he always manages to make a bad trip sound good. I listen to him and think, "I don't want to see what you're seeing right now, but I *do* want to hear about it. I find your ideas fascinating and wish to subscribe to your newsletter."

On a side note, I wish there was technology to allow us to watch other peoples' acid/mushroom trips and see whatever they're seeing, but without experiencing it firsthand. Like Youtube, except it would be TripTube.

Honey, I Shrunk the Trump

In a group chat, friends were discussing "Honey I Shrunk the Kids", which led to a discussion of which celebrities we'd like to shrink to an inch tall.

I want it to be the entire panel of presidential candidates, just so we can hear them all debate each other in tiny squeaky voices.

Ivy

A while back, I wondered if ivy is so appropriate for Ivy League schools because the plant itself is always ascending. I've also noticed other similarities between the plant and the students. It networks, intertwining with the other vines. Onlookers tend to immediately think of the ivy before thinking of the institution (at least in a physical sense). Some of it forgets it has roots in the ground and is held up by a foundation; that it didn't rise so far only by itself. Other vines remember and lift more of them up.

Facebook: The Musical

Sometimes when I see a flame war in a comment thread, I imagine the participants dramatically singing their comments at each other--typos and all--in an epic called "Facebook: The Musical." (And yes, I also think this about arguments I've been involved in.)

On bashing vs. awareness

There’s a popular post being circulated on social media which says, “You don’t need to bash skinny people to say that bigger people are beautiful. You don’t need to bash men to promote women’s rights. You don’t need to bash white people to promote racial equality. You don’t need to bash a certain genre of music to promote another. You don’t need to bash straight people to promote gay rights. You don’t need to bash anyone to promote your opinion.”

At face value, I agree with this statement. But the topic is a lot more complex than something that can be distilled down to a meme-ified soundbite.

Yes, it’s true that one doesn’t need to “bash” mainstream, privileged groups in order to empower marginalized ones. But at the same time, there are people from all those groups who will interpret any kind of empowerment campaign as a personal attack. There are white people who see pro-black statements as inherently anti-white. There are men who see feminist statements as inherently anti-male. The irony is that they are the ones conflating whiteness with racism and misogyny with maleness. Many of the more defensive members of the aforementioned groups will feel “bashed” when somebody points out that they don’t face many of the same problems as those who are more discriminated against, even though that statement in itself is not an attack. So they may think that any promotion of plus-sized people, women, non-white folks, and the LGBT community is “bashing” those who don’t belong to such categories, but their opinions should not dictate the way we express ourselves.

This isn’t to say “Bash all you want because somebody will be offended no matter what you say.” It’s obviously not wise, productive, or safe to vent about more advantaged groups in every single setting or social situation. Marginalized people are well aware of this. But I do think it can be helpful to have spaces where venting is allowed, which is not always the same as “bashing.” And even if bashing does occur, it doesn’t have the same widespread consequences as a privileged person bashing someone who is oppressed, because it’s not backed up by a long history of systemic discrimination.

“You don’t have to bash X to promote Y” could just as easily be expressed in the opposite form, with people saying, “Why can’t we have straight pride?? Pro-straight isn’t anti-gay!” But that is to completely ignore social context. That dismisses the fact that “straight pride” and its neighbors of “white pride”, “cis pride”, etc. have always been about being proud of not being gay, non-white, or transgender. Those types of pride are about reinforcing supremacy, not celebrating survival in the face of adversity.

Also, to promote women’s rights tends to mean criticizing misogyny and to promote racial minorities’ rights is to criticize racism. It doesn’t always necessitate the criticism of individuals, but those who embody that kind of bigotry will take it personally when it is called out. 

Frankenstein Fairy (or “An Art Class Essay Eleven Years Late”)

This is a drawing I did when I was eighteen. In hindsight, the scale and perspective looks distorted. That wasn’t deliberate, but it seems oddly compatible with the theme. The girl’s hands are too big for her body—also an accident—but that may be appropriate for a Frankenstein fairy.

In my late teens, I came up with the concept of Frankenstein fairies. They were sullen-looking adolescents with green skin and stitches running along their faces and limbs. They wore leather jackets, skull shirts, and combat boots. Their wings only materialized when they were threatened. When treated as pariahs, they’d sprout luminous butterfly wings and either attack or fly away to a better place.

Ms. Lee, one of my high school art teachers, was intrigued by the image and asked me to write a piece about it. It was a suggestion, not an assignment. I didn’t follow through at the time because I couldn’t think of anything to say about it. But now, eleven years later, I can.

At that time in my life, I was focused on merging apparent opposites. Drawing sunflowers growing out of ashtrays. Going to Burger King in a prom dress. And in the process, discovering a middle ground. Frankenstein Fairy fit this theme because of the obvious contrast, but also because the “monster” himself was a contradiction.

I first read Mary Shelley’s book in fifth grade and felt an immediate possessive pull toward the character. Not wanting to take credit for him, but wanting to adopt him as a person. I later felt the same about Alice Cooper’s “Teenage Frankenstein,” a glorious musical ode to alienation. The song was his, but it was also mine because I thought of Alice Cooper as my person. It was the babushka doll effect of egocentrism.

Now I feel that the song can be claimed by everybody who’s ever felt alone and pushed away. We can be together in solitude. And Frankenstein’s monster belongs to everybody. Even his body is a composite of different people. We all are. Our DNA comes from a multitude of sources. Our personalities and opinions, too. It’s a whole merging of experiences that influence us, and we are all patchwork.

In the end, Frankenstein’s creature belongs to everyone because he is everyone. And we are all Frankenstein fairies.