Orange Pride

Oh My, I have to share this. I'm cleaning my dungeon, I mean my room in the basement, and I have the cable on in the background. It keeps the overwhelming pressure of total silence from bearing down on me until I can't breathe. And I'm not making this up, there was a Hooters commercial that wasn't trying to solicit customers, but employees. And it was clips of a series of women stating how proud they were to work for Hooters because it helped them pay for this or that, or it taught them the "value of customer service", or whatever. And I don't really care if someone wants to work at Hooters. But let's face it, it's all about the money, not the sense of pride they feel walking through those doors every day. That's really the only reason 99% of all women who make the decision to sell their bodies do so. Whether it's only part of their bodies, or the whole thing doesn't really make a difference. It's still a compromise they're making to make the most amount of money possible. Most women would rather be able to do something else and still make what they make by baring flesh and being ogled. That's why as soon as they are able they leave to attempt whatever it was that was their goal; at least half of the women said they were proud because it helped them accomplish something else, something better, something they were really proud of. Who they hell is really and truly proud of the pile of money in front of them when looking at it elicits visions of shaking your tits in the face of a fat, greasy, pathetic man who you would much rather smack and tell "Clean yourself up, Man! Have some self-respect or you don't get to see titties like these unless circumstances involve a load of desperation and pity!".
I guess what I'm trying to say is: do what you gotta do, but call it by it's real name. Don't make it out to seem like anyone would work at a place like Hooters for any other reason than waitressing is the only thing they're qualified to do and Hooters gets better tips than Denny's. I only feel like I can write this, and no one can say I'm just a prude bitch who just doesn't get it, because I've been in the position myself where I've seriously contemplated working as a stripper or at some crappy Hooters type place. And it generally takes one to know one. And I know that in my heart I didn't smile when I pictured myself there, I cringed. Because even though most guys, or even women in some rare cases, probably go to Hooters and even strip clubs to have a good time, with no ill intent in their hearts, that is not always how things turn out. I mean...even working a "regular" type job, like a bakery, farm, or trucking company you get the weirdos from time to time who say or do something borderline inappropriate or uncomfortable. And then when you add full or partial nudity, or even in the case of Hooters, no actual nudity but a scarcity of fabric and a strong sexual insinuation, boundaries become less clear. And when it is part of your job to be very friendly, it's hard to know when to draw the line. I know that I personally put up with way more crap from bosses and customers than I would from anyone else.
I don't know, I guess my opinion is not that well thought out. I guess it's sort of like how most people are born just knowing right from wrong. It's just something you know, you feel it like it's an extension of your own self, knowledge that just came with your brain when you got it. And there is something about the way in which sex is sold these days that just seems unhealthy to me.

Wait. I have to explain something. I am NOT against the exchange of goods for sex. But it must be an even, safe, fair, and respectful trade. The purchaser must understand that they are buying something very special. As it is, people look down on the person who sells their body. In the current climate, such people are looked upon as morally loose, less worthy of respect , lacking respect for themselves, and easily disposed of. I suppose I can't really speak of what goes on in other places, but in the United States certain jobs are considered more worthy than others. In most cases, the service jobs, the manual laborers, even teachers and police, the people who really do the jobs that NEED to be done get paid barely enough to live on. While the people who are entertainers or work at jobs which have only developed as life has changed to give people more luxury and leisure time, they make more money than they even know what to do with. And we equate money with worth in this country. But those jobs could disappear and no one would die because their services are no longer. I think we need to reevaluate what is important in this country. We need to move away from our obsession with material possessions and focus on connections with ourselves, the people around us, and our physical and spiritual worlds. And if you consider such connections our purpose of living, than sex work would be considered a very important job. In a way, being a sex worker could be considered working in health care. Because all people crave physical touch, human connection. Lonely people who have no one to connect with tend to develop illnesses and die years before those who do have close connections with other people. But some people don't know how to create those connections, they need help. A lot of times it's those folks who visit prostitutes. Sure, there are the weirdos, but often it's just that they don't know how to ask the people in their lives for what they need, or they have no one to ask. Sex is a great way to alleviate stress and relax on a deep level. And many times, sex workers create close relationships with their customers over the years and even add aspects of talk therapy into their sessions. In a perfect world, sex workers would be considered well-trained healers, physical and mental. They would be respected. But they are not. And I don't think it's right to put commercials like the Hooters ad on t.v. where young girls see that and think that's the reality. It's glorifying a really crappy, demeaning job and perpetuating an overall acceptance of women as sex objects.

Well, this turned into a really long rant. I didn't see that happening when I began. I was shocked in a sort of humorous way but then I began to get kind of angry as I thought more and more of the injustice in the world. There is just so much of it everywhere I look. It can be overwhelming to think of all the things that are wrong in this world. I apologize for the harsh, judgemental tone, but the subject is very important. So have a good day, all.

Oh yeah, my title today is Orange Pride because that was, like, their thing. You know, orange is Hooters' color and at the end of the commercial they were like, "Whooo-hooo, Orange Pride, Yay!" Gag.

You Say My Eyes Are Crazy Eyes

After work this morning I took four of my dogs for a walk at Pisgah State Forest near my house. I don't like to take that many at a time because they don't listen very well when they're all together. They were pretty good today, though it was probably because we didn't see any other people. Sometimes that creeps me out though. This forest is 13,500 acres, 21 square miles and to get to the trail head I have to drive about three miles down a dirt road with very few houses; this makes me nervous when I really think about what it is I'm doing. I'm alone, I'm small, my dogs are small, four or not, and I'm too out of shape to out run anyone or anything, even jacked on adrenaline. I probably sound paranoid and crazy. But people are nutso these days and I don't want to be left wishing I could defend myself better.

I have friends who have had really fucked up things happen to them. Is it because their luck was bad, was it their fate to experience that pain, did they set themselves up for it by doing something stupid? I don't know. I always thought I was so lucky to have never had anything really fucked happen to me. Especially travelling across country all the time as a teenager, sometimes alone, sometimes with another young, pretty girl, maybe a skinny, tag-along, wasted boy. All the hitch-hiking and getting wasted at big, dark, loud festivals. And only a few times did I feel like I may be in danger but it always went my way, thank God. I've always told myself it's because predators look for someone they think they can take with minimal effort and that's just not me. You've seen movie scenes where someone has a gun put to their head and they're all, "Go ahead, shoot me! Motherfucker! I dare you to shoot me, I want you to shoot me!!". And the one with the gun doesn't know what the hell to do because they don't really want to have to go that far, they just want to put fear into the other, not kill them. Well, I always thought that if you could just muster a crazy more dark and deep than any your attacker may have known than you can scare them off. But that's obviously not true in a few situations, or maybe that just exposes my limit, perhaps it always works if you can go that far. Most people won't.
In the most current instance, those women didn't have time to do anything to defend themselves. What the hell do you do then?
I feel kind of silly admitting that I read The Shack after hearing about it on NPR. And I was surprised that I found it to be really helpful in understanding evil in the world. It's so easy to ask ourselves why God lets all this horrible, painful stuff happen to innocent people. But we need to remember that people have free will. I have to believe that there is not a God so vindictive and creepy that they would take pleasure from watching us inflict heartache upon one another. Otherwise, being made in the image of God, wouldn't we all find pleasure in the pain of others?

I don't know. I don't pretend to know what the fuck we are here for, or why it is so terrible and so beautiful.
Death, especially when it happens so brutally, seems so unfair, so wrong. But how can something that is everywhere be so scary? Why does it seem like we are designed to rage against death when it is inescapable? Or are immortalists on to something?