Sew's Spot

"Sit up, join up, stir it up, get online, get in touch, find out who's raising hell and join them." Molly Ivins

Friday, December 15, 2006

Rambling On

I realize over the last few posts I've been doing a lot of either kvetching or rambling on about stupid stuff that's just crossing my mind at any given moment. While this is therapeutic for my own writing muse, it probably has all y'all bored to tears, I'm sorry, mea culpa, but... deal, ok?

The winter holidays are always my very least favorite time of year. Mostly because of the disintegration and dysfunctionality of my family, but also to a lot of other issues. I hate the cold weather, and I despise snow. (Shaddup, Sausage.) I am one of those folks who don't react well if there isn't enough daylight - even the really dreary months in spring and fall can get me feeling "down".

Then there is the whole holiday thing, which feeds back into the family thing. Sort of a snowball effect there. Things aren't as dire feeling as they were a week or so ago, but I'm still feeling pretty crummy.

And so I decided to give myself an early Xmas "Holiday" present and stop fixating on the problems with politics and all. Certainly I can't give it up completely, but I'm right near that "breaking point", and I think that since one-more-thing could send me off into a cardiac incident, it's better to have at least TWO more things available so if one more happens, I have a spare. And the only thing that I can seriously control is to back off the political bandwagon until things settle down more. Not for lack of caring, but I can't really do much if I'm dead, so I'm gonna try to avoid that for a little while more.

In the meanwhile, thank you to Peacechick Mary for the SAMe advice, between that and a slight increase in the St. John's Wort, I seem to be feeling closer to myself.

Oh... Leandra.... I got your birthday present here.... *dangles present from a distance* hehehehehehe

Mouse Tracks

I had a bit of a time coming up with just ONE title for this post. The other option was from a Beach Boys song "I get around"...

Thanks to John Good at from Left in Aboite for finding this cool way to track where you've visited. I've actually visited or driven through all the states in red on the below map!



create your own personalized map of the USA

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Back In Time

Historians are funny. So are archaeologists. Must go with the territory. One of the things I find most humorous is that according to them, everyone in the ages past was totally focused on one thing - religion.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm sure there was a great deal of religion back then - just as there is a gread deal of religion now - but I just don't believe that ALL of the people spent their entire days and nights focused only on gods and goddesses and stuff. Someone once wrote a book about what future archaeologists will make out of the remains of a modern motel. It was gut-bustingly funny.

The "mis-reading" of the clues in the motel and the attribution of anything "mystical" to a "religious" cause is so reminicent of I cannot say how many National Geographic articles I've read, that I have over the years taken all such articles with a huge grain of salt, assuming that the current-day archaeologists and anthropologists have made many of the same mistakes that those in the story about the motel did.

Cave paintings, for instance. The archaeologists would have us believe that these were there as "virtual offerings" to the "gods" for a good hunt. They never seem to visualize the possibility that maybe - JUST MAYBE - Ooga wanted to do the livingroom in "hunter prints".

Og: Honey, the livingroom is looking a bit shabby.
Ooga: I agree dear. How about if you paint some hunting scenes on the walls and I'll weave a few new carpets and we can pile your trophy skulls over in ONE corner?
Og: Sounds good. I'll get right on that.

Or maybe those caves were schoolrooms where the little Og's would learn the ABC's of hunting technique - illustrated?

Or Stonehenge - oh, the MYSTICAL, DRUIDIC, SPACE OBSERVATORY... yeah, yeah, yeah... I bet it was a shopping mall.

What got me onto this? Well, I subscribe to this Yahoo mailing list called "12th Century Garb" - supposed to be all about clothing and accessories and stuff in the 12th Century. I have some interest in the whole evolution of clothing, and so I like to read what others have found out through their research.

What I've found out is that the SCA is whacked.

The SCAdians claim they are all about "authenticity" and "documentable evidence" and "period correct" and a whole host of equally unrealistic minutia, the pursuit of which produces that most noxious of beings, the "GARB SNARK" - usually female, and totally convinced that HER research is the ONLY research and the BEST research and ANYONE who dares to suggest otherwise is WRONG!!!

The problem stems primarily from the fact that apparently there are only a handful of actual garments that have survived the centuries between the 1100's and current time. So these few scraps of clothing are all that anyone has as "proof" of what people wore back in those days. Couple that with the fact that most of those things were found buried in peat bogs, and you have the beginnings of the fun.

See - ONE GUY who got himself killed and thrown into a peat bog is now representative of the ENTIRE POPULATION of Western Europe during the 1100's. ONE GUY!!! What if he was killed because he was a serious fashion embarassment to the entire continent???? Dumped into a peat bog to hide the evidence of his horrible crimes against couture?

In order to combat the lack of physical evidence of fashion and style, the SCAdians refer to period-produced art as a means of determining the actual construction techniques and styles worn in this time period.

*snort*

Ok. Fine. Yah, right. You ever seen most of those monastic "illuminations" of scriptures and other religious texts? I can't draw worth a damn, but I could draw better than THAT in 5th grade! And this is what these snarky women are using for "evidence" that something did - or did not - exist "in period".

Uh huh.

Monk 1: (chanted)
Oh my brother look upon this drawing I have made
Is this not a lovely drawing of St. Andrew's death?

Monk 2: (chanted)
Oh yes, Brother it is quite lovely
I like what you have done with his cape
But why are all your figures wearing hoods?

Monk 1: (chanted)

It is simple why my figures all wear hoods, Brother
I am not so good at drawing mens hair without pompadours

Monk 2: (chanted)
Then I see your point and find your drawing good
And all as shall see it shall rejoice, Amen.

Prophet Monk: (Spoken)
And behold - the day shall come
and all who see these pictures will rejoice
and they shall use these pictures as a guide
and a pattern for construction of similar garb
for all shall wish to garb themselves as saints
and every detail shall be examined.

For verily I say unto you - even the most trivial
line shall be discussed and used as "proof" that
all the peoples of our time did dress in such fashion.

And a society shall be form-ed, and it shall be name-ed for creativity and anachronism, and many from this society shall gaze rabidly upon thy works and declaim them as fact and truth and representative of all that exists of fashion and garment construction in this age, Amen.

Monk 1: Really?? COOOL!!!! Hey Sidney! Watch what I do with
the cape on this other guy here! They're gonna go NUTS trying
to figure out whether the hood is attached or not!

Monk 2: OOOH - I've got an idea, Phil - I'll paint all the peasants WITHOUT THEIR PANTS ON! Just their long underwear! Oh what a great joke THAT will be on those future "historians"!

*snort*

Yeah. Right.
Just like EVERY person in the USA today dresses EXACTLY the same, and has garments with ALL THE EXACT SAME construction techniques.

Just sayin'

and laughin'

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Tuesday

Now with more pizza.

The problem with seasonal depression is that when you're depressed you don't want to do anything but curl up in a ball, which works but doesn't get the laundry done, the groceries purchased or the home-chores done.

Seems like every tiny thing I do during this time of year is an "accomplishment" - even if its just taking out the trash or emptying the dishwasher.

So last nite I paid bills, then treated myself to a pizza because the thought of tuna salad again was just too much to bear. I really need to get to the market again. I wish there was a market-delivery service around here that would deliver in the evening and didn't cost an arm and a leg and several major internal organs, so I could just shop online.

I'd also like to be able to work from home and telecommute so I can work in my bunny slippers. But that ain't gonna happen. We have this mean VP who won't let me.

Phlllhhbbhhttt

In other news:

It seems that several of my favorite bloggers have just up and disappeared. I wish they wouldn't do that. Deleting your blog is, of course, your perogative, but it just seems like saying "fuck you all, you're all scum". Saying "bye" would be nice. I know that when life-changing events happen, sometimes the inner depression just makes us go for the insta-kill button. But it feels like losing a friend sometimes, even though I don't know all of ya all that well.

I've also noticed a kind of sad trend among women bloggers particularly - when they decide they've been insulted or given a hard time by someone, they lash out and post some really nasty stuff about those others on their blogs. Low class, Girls. If they piss you off that bad - just ignore them. Don't read their blogs, don't comment, just disappear. Drawing nasty cartoons or posting mean things is just crude and says a lot more about YOU than it ever will about them.

Just sayin'.

BBC - your blog won't let me log in to comment. kick it please.

Sunday, December 10, 2006

Merry Fucking Christmas

The holidays are supposed to be this time of loving and caring and sharing and giving.

For me, they have become a time of resentment and anger and hurt and abandonment.

I hate this time of year - I hate the weather, I hate the carols, I hate it all.

And it seems to get worse every year. But I'm getting a "Thumper" moment, so I'll just say this:

BAH HUMBUG