Blogging and The Nature of Criticism

Email, Comments and Rules

The private stuff stays private, but I usually have two rules for posting an email:

  • It’s so on point about a specific subject, I want to share it.
  • It’s so irate and angry, usually towards my blog and myself, I want share a good laugh at the joke(r).

Regarding the comments section, it’s more or less an open-door policy.

Most comments go through automatically, because the administrative software will allow commenters based on a trusted ID. Once I approve your comment 99.93% percent of the time, you can come back to freely write and express yourself. I barely or rarely censor. Rarely.

Although through no fault of my own something goes awry, a few comments are held in a queue or sent to spam.

This is my domain. I pay for the site. Yay. I am mistress of my own domain! Hmm. That sounds so empowering, no? I’m a bit of a control freak, and the software gives me a lotta admin power! I love power!

Hmm. Power.

When a comment is awesome, I want to make it topic to run with. However, I get so many on point good comments, it’s becomes harder to decide. It’s a matter of breaking up a thread to start another. That can get tricky.

What Chu Say? The Illiterate’s Brain Fart

If a comment is out of bounds, I’ll give the person the exposure they deserve. Of the few posts I’ve put up, with regards to criticizing the blog or myself, they’re from the comments section. This is not an invitation to trolls.

Have you noticed that the irate are nearly always incoherent?

Folks enjoy upsetting themselves in a many manner of ways. They fume at words never written, but boy! are they certainly clever! to decipher what’s supposedly implied. Sort of a grand conspiracy of blogging: maybe they highlight invisible words by selecting the screen page to find the truth of what’s written. Made you look.

This is me: If I want to insult someone, I’ll use the exact words required. I don’t aim for subtle.

Idiotbook

Recently, one moron from Facebook, who is as bright as a box of hammers, sharp as a dull kinfe, polluted my email box. You wanna know what my first reaction was? Laughter. I responded with polite sarcasm.

Now, you may wonder, Why bother? Hey, I figure, what am I gonna be mad at? Feces is fertilizer. Right? Maybe there’s a nugget of wisdom to be discovered. Not.

I reply, because I feel sorry for the feeble minded. I don’t like beating up on the mentally handicapped.

Here’s the gimme: An angry email or comment tells me how much power I have over this person. They’ve wasted precious moments of their time to tell me nothing. To send me their mental upchuck. I love that kind of power.

I think I’ll conquer the world from here, blogging in my warm and comfy pajamas, with a nice cup of herbal tea by my side.

Criticism Is a Fundamental Good

I appreciate criticism. I welcome constructive, make it work, useful, thought provoking differences of opinions. That’s how we all learn. Trial and error. Through observation and analysis.

I’ve worked jobs where I get nervous if I’m not getting feedback that tells me where I’m going wrong (or right). I’ll request criticism. I need to know the correct dance moves. If I’m going left, while everyone else is going right, shouldn’t I be told the next steps? (In real life, I am horrible dancer.) I appreciate the “swim with the school of fishes” mantra as long as it fulfills my goals, metrics, deadlines and the like.

I do not pretend to know all the answers. I do not have this mindset that what I say is the last word on any subject.

I write observations, not absolutes. I’m not writing position papers. I’m not recruiting for a cause. (Unless it’s for the secret Black Women’s Illuminati. Remember that we don’t exist, okay?)

I write assertively, because I consider writing a tool. It needs to be sharpened. Repeatedly. I realize that this is the subtle distinction the fuming, irate, nitwits miss. I cannot raise their IQs, so it’s not on my agenda.

I blog as an intellectual exercise. It’s interesting and rather fun. And I’ll keep at it until I’m truly bored, and then I’ll stop. If you are helped by my words, that actually brings me joy. I like sharing my thoughts. I am sincerely greatful when you share yours with me.

Have a good one.

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The Next Disaster: Will It Be Us?

Does tragedy come in threes? fours? a score or more? I am certainly not wishing for it. I’ve been briefly taking in the news on Japan, because I don’t want to take it up to “disaster porn” level. I’m hoping that the Nuke Reactors get under control, and nothing worse happens.

Are You Ready For a Disaster?

Stay Prepared*

It’s a question one must ask these days. As we can see, even the most organized and wealthiest government(s) wont bring the kind of immediate help we see in Hollywood disaster movies. The reality would be like Katrina, if not possibly worse. In times of chaos, whether fast or slow, you have to rely on yourself, family, friends, and honorable acquaintances.

I don’t think anyone could ever been too prepared.

Based on the dangers in your area: flood, tornado, hurricane, or earthquake. Ask yourself this: Are you properly insured? Do you have backup copies of your personal papers off site? Maybe you decide to keep important papers in a bank safety deposit box?

If you have to run out the door (with the devil at your back) – is there a bag with first aid kit, spare underwear (never underestimate the need for extra knickers), wipes, water, snack(s), a bit of cash, etc. within reach to help if you cannot get back home right away?

I keep this stuff in my car – traffic can be hell in New Jersey. 🙂

Preparation List from Volunteer Mid-South

The American Boiling Frog

I keep feeling like there is some low-level stuff going on, creeping along, that’s bad, bad, bad, but we all cannot see it. Like the entire nation is a frog sitting in slowly boiling water.

The economy is in a grind. The cost of food is rising. Rising oil price is going to choke off economic growth. There are millions of people out of work, and likely millions more who are homeless.

Yet, the media doesn’t see or talk about them. Curious.

Come On! Must We Be Involved In Another War?

Deja vu all over again. Does no one in Washington, DC ever pay attention? How many times have we been thanked, after America has invaded to “help”, with terrorist attacks or “man-made disasters” and deadly shoot-outs? Sometimes it is best to stand by and watch people who are typically ungrateful and violent.

When our government gets involved for some reason – they don’t know when to leave. Is that the goal? Another country to have troops to sit in?

Do these people not remember that we had a no-fly zone over Iraq for nearly a decade?

I suspect, if the UN Resolution was enforced (to institute a no-fly zone over Libya), the media would immediately report that portions of that country revolting against Qadhafi or number of deaths were exaggerated.

Get Outdoors and Have Fun

Spring is here. Time to get out and play.

Have a good one.

*From the Red Cross – I make no money if you decide to buy that bag. I linked because I thought it was good source of information. 🙂

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Rant: I Need My Own Cyrano De Bergerac

Granted, I can be a decent writer when I’m angry or in an especially good mood. I think my writing is even superb when I work at it.

But I’m thinking there’s something off when I write a personal ad or even a resume. It’s odd how I put those two together, but they both require a level of selling (of the self) that I’m not great at. I’m used to taking classes all of my life on how to be a dutiful student and corporate worker-bee drone, but not showcase myself.

There’s a teaching methodology of pushing learned helplessness, as opposed to independence (and I don’t mean false self-esteem) in these schooling systems that needs to be eviscerated.

I didn’t believe self-promotion was necessary – I thought “sales” was something everyone else did. Yet, little did I realize it’s the lifeblood of western society. Part of me still thinks it’s not necessary. Part of me also wonders: Where do I draw the line on describing how incredibly awesome I am (said entirely tongue-in-cheek)?

Not only that – do men actually read? I think I’m enviously starting to “hate on” women who say they’ve searched online for Mr. Right and he appears within three weeks, or even three months.

To top off my aggravation meter, the man (and I mean man) speaks to her like an adult, not a wannabe porn star.

Do guys ever realize that some women are completely turned off by constant and instantaneous sex talk? Would it hurt to even ask if that’s appropriate? Why must I be the schoolmarm and tell them it’s lame? Doesn’t anyone have any class or common sense anymore? Were all these people brought up in animal shelters?

I get that this is a hookup-instant-sex-too-much-information society. I don’t roll at that speed. I never will. I don’t roll into instant information: I like breathing space. Let me slowly process who you are. There’s no difference between meeting someone online and chatting and bar pickups. I’ve done it all. I’ve gone everywhere (meetups, church, just walking, etc.) and I still meet the same guy(s).

I know what I’m doing wrong: I should have been born during an era where people had clearly defined social rules or something. Or maybe in the future when people regain their sanity.

Yeah, I get that this is how it is. I would like to know where are the grown men? Because all I’m meeting are adolescents in the body of 30 and 40 year olds. Don’t get me wrong, I’m meeting guys! I would just like them to be mature men.

‘Cause I’m too old for the silly nonsense now.

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For Black Women: When Your Choices Make Other People Or Your “Friends” Mad

The following comment, and question, was sent to me by the intelligent and lovely Chocolatestar:

I wanted to send you this video and get your thoughts on this. I’m not sure if it’s just me and my strong opinionated personality, but i’m quite tired of black women bashing other black women, who call black men out on their self destructing behavior and hatred for their women.

Is it a crime to not be attracted to their characteristics( emotionally damaged, etc) or even want to take risks on black men, especially after observing the resulting trends.

I’m so tired of hearing how there are so many good black men out here, if i was interested in them I would be saying where they at, where they at. It’s funny who this chick ended up with after all.

I just recently ended a friendship with a bw, who was a christian extremist.

I sent her your essay on “Why white men are better” and she flipped her lid, saying that she has a black son and will never sabotage black men, because she love them so much and will only date a black man (yet the best man she ever had, her words, was a guy who was a drug dealer her babies daddy and eventually got shot down) and anyone blogging and reading essays bashing black men needs help.

Yet many have ran her through the dirt She went too far excusing their trending behavior with bible versus and the antebellum era. I tired to tell her that the essay to me was a clever way of counterbalancing the attacks bestowed upon black women who prefer white men over the ” kings” of the world bm ( yeah right).

Anyway I probably could rant more, but I have a test in the morning.

“Resurrection” – The Lost Black Man

I left out the video link. There are dozens, if not more, videos made by “strong”, “angry”, and “resentful” ultra-black wo/men demanding black women regard all black males with adoration, worship, reverence, and extreme diffidence. To place the value of any man before God tells you well enough that some people are a few fries short of a $1 happy meal.

There are people who believe black women compete (in any arena) with black men. It’s an amazing fallacy that has little merit in the real, mainstream, global, and international patriarchal world. Black women mostly struggle with financial sacrificing, relationship sustaining, parenting, and “saving the black community” alone. That’s not a strong functioning matriarchal system, that’s living with male abandonment.

Black men are in competition with other men
. All men are. It’s a man’s world. That’s never changed, and never will. The fact is black men lost – roughly 500 years ago. It’s likely they’re never going to catch up. At least, not for the next 100 years.

Black women cannot win it for them, no matter how hard they try to “man up” and do it. Which is why there are black women on YouTube, blogs, writing books, making hostile comments, and singing songs trying to “resurrect” black males back into the game. It wont work by encouraging an orgasmic savoring of masochism, sexism, and racism amongst black women, or false idol worship of black men. Her loss is not a black male’s gain.

But hey, good luck with that strategy folks. We can see from the last 30 plus years how well that’s worked out.

Friend of My Friend, Friend of My Enemy

I’d advise you not to argue with your friends, non-friends, and strangers about the men you may choose as a partner in life. No one actually has a say in the matter. What they think is irrelevant. If we go to them about these issues, it’s like we are looking for their acceptance. And we really cannot have that, can we? Do we go to the poor on how to become rich?

I’d also suggest you let your friends be if they are the ride-or-die, or black men only, type. We’d all like to be on the same page with our friends, but sometimes it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie. However, since this person is vehemently against non-black men to the point of belligerent, irrational racism, and it will cause you personal pain (and don’t we always run into people like that?), then yeah, you are right to cut them loose.

As for the video, you may be surprised, but my feeling about the criticism of black women like us from militant black wo/men is: C’est la vie. Shrug. I don’t care. Sure, sometimes I’d like to smack some sense into them. Yet, if the Titanic is sinking, and they don’t care: What’s there for us to worry about? Our goal is to make sure we are not on the ship with them.

To a degree we love (most) of our people(s). We’d love to see all of them behave rationally, intelligently, do well, and be happy. But at the end of the day – we all gotta choose our own paths. We have to worry about our own happiness first and foremost.

So I ask you, ignore the hate, don’t seek these forums / idiotic people out. It’ll make you miserable.

You sound like you have your life together, so keep on pressing on. ‘Cause when you listen to these morons, whether you think it affects you or not, you may end up sabotaging yourself in the future.

The subconscious is one hell of a thing to get a handle on.

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Goals Reset: Where Has the Time Gone? It’s May Already!!!!

Oh my goodness! This is crazy. I mean we are almost at the half point of this year already!

Where did the time go? I’m scared I will look around and it’ll be Christmas again.

Time for me to start my New Year’s Resolutions all over again.

Gym Rat / Weight Loss

I’ve been at the gym 5 days out of 7. My body can’t handle the daily grind as I initially thought, but at least the aches and pains are gone. Boy, do I love weight lifting. I do that every time I go, and I alternate the treadmill and bike riding. Based on my body type, which is Mesomorphic / Mesomorph. I’ve lost 10 lbs since April 1, not bad. Usually, I can only drop 2 lbs a month, but I think my updated routine has made it easier to lose.

Why Me, Lord?

Why does everything necessitate talking to people who don’t like me,  and I don’t like them? Seriously, I’m not talking blog land. I mean out in the “real world.” No one ever leaves intermediate or high school. It’s the same people over and over again.

Nice People

It’s interesting to hear about people you’ve met only once or twice inquiring after you. I don’t know, I always get a warm and fuzzy feeling from it. Well, I’m always asking after them. Good vibrations go both ways.

It’s Too Warm To Hide

It’s like when the personal trainer and I were talking and he asked, “So why now?” Dude! Because by June, you will have nowhere to hide. The clothes wont cover the butt or hips. Part of what makes me look really big is my chest. Some women don’t like losing weight there: I look forward to it! I’ve got enough bosom to spare. I can barely run because of it. Ugh.

I Love the Summer, I Hate the Summer

I actually find it more boring than the winter. I like mild weather, like how it is now in the Northeast. But when it gets hotter. I dunno. I don’t like festivals, street parties or outdoor events. I loved them as a child. Man, those were the greatest years of my life. Today, the only thing I truly find interesting is traveling to different countries. That takes time and money. My goals is to get going by September. Again.

Money

I love what it can do for you. I don’t have this mindset that it is the “root of all evil.” Its purpose is to be used like the TOOL (in a positive meaning) that it is. I think people get confused with what money does. If you don’t have money, remember that BARTERING is what existed before coinage came about. Always remember that favors / good advice are basically priceless, in essence, especially coming from the right people.

I Gotta Hurry Up

The only thing that irritates me about myself is the inability to rush things. I’m not an efficient multitasking type of person. I’m an old fashioned needle-style record player: one track at a time. I need things to be just right. Although I am aware that a perfectionist streak is a good mask for hiding fear of failure. I take too long. My goal is get it done. I will fix is as I go along, but things must get done. Otherwise, we stagnate, right?

Breaking the Introvert Habits

I remember being more outgoing as a kid. I took a class that said Introverts become more “closed” as they get older. Hey, for people like me, the daily exercise is to talk to someone (in the real world) everyday. Even if it is to ask the time. Co-workers don’t count. People I already know don’t count.

That’s the one constant I have to maintain: talking to people!

Feedback

As always is welcome, if you have any goals, spell ’em out. I like cheering people on. Have a good one.

Cheers everybody.

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Rant: What I Dislike About Being a Black Woman Sometimes

Oh, I like being a woman who’s also “black”, just fine, it’s people getting on my nerves that ruins it.

You are damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.

People like making up these “what a black woman shouldn’t do” rules, because they are emotional bullies, hypocrites, and misogynists.

If you work for your money, you are a bank. If you are broke, you are persona non grata.

If you express joy and satisfaction in making money, men call you mercenary. If you show little interest in money people become incredulous, because you’re supposed to be stressing over it. I recognize my limitations with fiscal sophistication. I manage as best I can. Sometimes I win. Sometimes I lose. Yet I don’t become smug or condescending because of it.

If you are single, people think your time isn’t worth anything. They assume it can be harnessed for the benefit of the married, or not married, with children, and the selfish. I cannot stand “bring your brats to work” day at the job. The parents think only the singles should work. I take the day off if they plan on being that disruptive.

Your achievements make people envious, upset, and testy. If I’m not taking from you, why worry about my business? Folks like to think that every black woman is at the bottom, and it upsets them if we are doing better than them.

Your setbacks make their day. Oh, they practice schadenfreude like a religion.

Men assume you will play Big Momma to them, because you get up every morning and work. What else am I supposed to do? Sit at home? Will you pay the bills, sir? Should I yearn to earn less than the average man at the same job?

Years ago, I had a guy tell me he likes me, because I work for “good money” and his future ex-girlfriend did not. He said she worked with the expectation of being an at-home mother. So, I’m supposed to be complimented with the assumption that I wouldn’t want to stay home and raise my kids too? WTF? This was coming from a white dude (ex-gf being white) who grew up among wolves … oh, sorry, black guys.

If you do not have children men will say, “I’m sorry.” I’ve never expressed regret that I do not have any. So, why am I supposed to be sorry? Not every woman who has a uterus has to use it. There is more to us than childbearing.

Some men assume that black women are so manly that we can all lift heavy weights, work out strenuously, and perform heavy-duty tasks like men. Back the hell up with that nonsense. I tell ’em straight, “I’m not a man. I’m delicate.” I get cold easily. I cannot lift heavy weights. The only place I’m running is on a treadmill. I don’t do anything to injure myself.

If you own property, a fellow will ask you why you bought it, as if I have the nerve to live in a house without his permission.

If you drive a nice car, jerks will ask you who bought it for you. This can go either way, if I bought it myself, I’m showing off, if a guy bought it for me… Oh well, let’s not go there.

Leave me alone about how I wear my hair. Seriously. Some people are looking to get the crap knocked out of them.

I don’t require anyone’s permission to do anything. I just go ahead and do.

Hey, black guys! If we accidentally make eye contact, that doesn’t mean I’m interested! If you are with a white woman: Leave me alone. What is with you guys? You’ve got your prize, no one cares, especially not me. I cannot tell you the number of times some negro acts up whenever he’s got a white chick by his side. I don’t even notice these fools until they say something, or they stare so long I can feel it.

Regardless of what some fellows think, just because I am a black woman, don’t even try and tell what I can or cannot do. I’ve heard enough from the “you-just-can’t” losers all of my life, and it didn’t, and it doesn’t stop me from having the life I want.

I do, and get, what I want, when I want, and how I want. That’s my motto since Day 1, and it always will be.

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As a Child

I used to decapitate my dolls.

I used to set things on fire.

Today, I’d take the shortcut and set my dolls on fire.

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Tiger Woods: Lion Cheetah

Blame this post on two cosmopolitans. In case you miss it: this is sarcasm.

Tiger Woods

My response: So?

Oh, I’ll add that if Elin was a black woman, we’d be hearing a different tune from the mind-polluting media and various blogs.

Critters would skitter out from under their rocks offering “scientific evidence” – a.k.a. personal garbage opinions posing and offered as facts –  as to what is wrong with black women.

If Elin was a black woman, we would hear, ad nauseum it was her fault Tiger cheated.

Black women are materialistic gold diggers and would only marry Tiger for his money. If Elin was a black woman, it would be her fault Tiger cheated.

Black women have a habit of choosing insecure, stupid, and abusive men. If Elin was a black woman, it would be her fault Tiger cheated.

Black women wont let a black man, or a poor Cablasian, be a man. If Elin was a black woman, it would be her fault Tiger cheated.

Black women don’t treat their men right. If Elin was a black woman, it would be her fault Tiger cheated.

Black women aren’t submissive enough. If Elin was a black woman, it would be her fault Tiger cheated.

Black women don’t work fooking hard enough to stay attractive: lose weight, stay skinny, lighten up!, smile more!, dress really really nice, brush her teeth, permanently relax her nappy hair, and get a suitable butt-length weave. If Elin was a black woman, it would be her fault Tiger cheated.

Black women aren’t an important demographic, so the advertisers would be sticking with Tiger. If Elin was a black woman, it would be her fault Tiger cheated.

Black men would encourage Tiger to dump his wife. If Elin was a black woman, it would be her fault Tiger cheated.

Black women would encourage Tiger to dump his wife and offer to take her place. If Elin was a black woman, it would be her fault Tiger cheated.

Nearly all comments on sports web sites and black gossip sites would describe, and post pics of, Elin as some species of animal. If Elin was a black woman, it would be her fault Tiger cheated.

We wouldn’t hear a peep from the 12-plus hoes of Christmas if they were black women. The media wouldn’t offer the women any morning or prime-time exposure. They wouldn’t collect one red cent for their 15 minutes of fame.
 
If Elin was a black woman, she would receive no sympathy, it would be her fault Tiger cheated.

Blame this post on two cosmopolitans. In case you miss it: this is sarcasm.

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