It’s Take Two of his book tag! This time I’ve been nominated by the lovely Emily over at A Literary Life.
My original questions remain the same – What is the criteria for this? How am I versatile? I don’t feel versatile. Most Scorpios aren’t if you believe in that kind of gobbly-goop. Which I occasionally do when it’s hilarious and on the nose.
I can solemnly swear that I am consistently stubborn and extremely picky. And the only time me and the words “laid back” are in the same sentence is when it comes to my social views. Otherwise, watch out, because I am definitely a Crabby Patty.
With that said, I do love being tagged in things so I’ll take it!
- Thank the person who gave you the award.
- Include a link to their blog.
- Select 7 blogs/bloggers that you’ve discovered recently or regularly follow.
- Nominate those 7 bloggers for the Versatile Blogger Award.
- Finally, tell the person who nominated you 7 things about yourself.
For the record, I distinctly remember having a very difficult time coming up with facts about myself the first time around. I don’t know why, but it turns out talking about myself can be a difficult task.
So, if you’re reading along and one or two of the facts happen to be things like “I have arms” or “I wear clothes to work,” just accept these answers and move on.
🔪MY SEVEN FACTS
I sit beside a complete stalker at work and she’s driving me crazy. Okay, maybe “stalker” is a bit harsh, but for real this woman is obsessed with me and I can’t seem to impress upon her that I would like her to fuck right off without being totally rude. But I can’t do that because “professionalism” and “healthy work environment.” I’ve had to go to my manager and ask that she be moved away from me because she makes work very uncomfortable. Fingers crossed for a stalker-free 2019.
Some of the weird things she does/has done:
- uses Facebook to send me selfies of herself doing things after work
- tries to take selfies with me at work
- constantly asks invasive personal questions that are none of her business
- leaves me gifts regularly for when I get to work in the morning – candy, baked goods, cards, drinks, notes, etc.
- for my birthday she sent me 12 emails before I got to work, all with different “happy birthday” messages in them
- when I started losing some weight, she told me she could really tell because my breasts were smaller.
- right now, I have a stocking hung up for decoration at my desk for the holidays and she has been filling it with candy every day. I am pretending I don’t notice.
- she has gone to my actual friends and asked them personal questions about me in order to find ways to make me like her more.
- any time I do something that she’s never seen me do before (whether that is wearing a new shirt or put up a new picture at my desk,) she has to comment on it.
- uses any new information that she finds out about me she goes hard with it – for instance, she found out I think Jason Momoa is hot (who doesn’t?) and has since been sending me texts and emails every day with links to different videos of him from celebrity news sources.
- has emotional reactions to things that are turned up to 11 and it makes talking to her very difficult because I prefer appropriate emotions and rationalism.
Bitch is thirsty AF to be my friend and it’s incredibly off-putting.
I am like privacy. So, maybe when you read that list of my stalker’s indiscretions you thought to yourself, “that doesn’t seem so bad, just be nice!” And if that was your first reaction, then you and I are very different people.
I like privacy, like a lot. I like being alone and I don’t like being noticed unless it’s on my own terms. I don’t like talking about personal things unless I initiate it.
To me, there is nothing more upsetting than feeling like I’m being watched, like I can’t make a move without being noticed and having it commented on. My desire for privacy borders on being neurotic. I’m aware of this, but I also don’t care. I gotta be me.
That feeling of being under a microscope is such a horribly intense pet peeve that it’s probably a good thing I’m not talented enough, or pretty enough, to be famous. If I could do all my business – both personal or otherwise – in a windowless room without being asked a single question about it, that would be my dream situation.
I am a stepmother. I got married when I was 27 to a man who is 8 years old than me. He was previously married and brought two kids with him. He had physical custody of the kids because BM (birth mom, or bowel movement – same thing) is a total loony-tune-deadbeat who couldn’t take care of them.
Because BM is so useless, I ended up becoming a “full-time” stepmom, meaning the kids were with us always, except for a weekend here and there. And considering what I’ve just said about liking privacy and being alone, you can imagine that I’ve had a hard time adjusting to this situation just a little bit. And by a “little bit,” I mean a lot and I had to start therapy last year.
Besides a totally different home situation, being a stepmom is a pretty thankless job and I don’t think step parents receive enough respect or acknowledgement for stepping into that role. So, if you’re a step parent, just know that I get you, I feel you, I know what you go through and hard how you try and even if no one else appreciates you.
I have paid for braces, therapists, clothes, furniture, electronics – you name it, I provided it. It’s been an extremely trying few years as I attempt to figure out how to be a parent-figure to kids that aren’t mine. Really, there are no benefits to this kind of job. Sometimes I wonder what else I could be doing with my life.
I don’t want kids of my own. I never really have, if I’m being honest. I remember saying it for the first time in grade 9. Other girls were making these lists of baby names for their future children and I didn’t make a list to play along. Why? They wanted to know. “Because I don’t really want kids.” This was a shocking statement in 2001. It’s like no one had ever even considered that not having children was an option. The societal expectation of women, and that we never question it, became very obvious to me at this point in my life. It’s not really surprising at all, if I think about it, that I turned into a feminist and anti-traditionist.
Being mothers was what all of these young teen girls just expected that they would do someday and never gave it another thought. Husband and kids. Husband and kids. That’s just what the future held for all of us apparently.
Everyone, my entire life, even now at 33 years old (when you would think I might know myself a little bit,) has told me that I will change my mind. But if being a stepmother has given me anything at all, it’s the reassurance that I definitely do not want to have my own children.
All of you child-free-by-choice ladies out there, you don’t need to change your mind. Don’t let anyone try and convince you otherwise. The grass is not always greener.
“You’ll regret it one day!” Why? Why would I regret something I have no emotional connection to? Will I wonder… Maybe. But regret? No. I have enough experience raising to teenagers to know it’s definitely not meant for me.
And by the way, this personal opinion and choice is in no way an indictment against those who want children or have children. That should go without saying, but apparently people get very touchy about someone not wanting children.
I think what is meant for me is writing. I mean, I could be totally full of shit, but when I say I’m meant for something else besides being a stepmom and being a wife and being a mother, I think that “something else” is probably writing.
Whether that is here on this blog, or in book form at some point in my life, writing is the only thing that I’m completely sure of. Everything else – photography, art – feels like I’m trying. These are things I’m okay at doing, but I want to be better and that next level doesn’t come easily. I have to work harder to think of new ways to extend my creativity in those fields.
But, writing comes naturally. it’s just something I understand inherently. I don’t have to think about. There is something comforting about that personal knowledge.
I consider myself a feminist. The last couple of years has been a work in progress to become more inter-sectional, recognize my own privilege and just become a better feminist, in general.
Identifying with the feminist movement has really allowed me to question a lot of things in my life, including the religion I was brought up in and the traditions that were expected of me to follow. My interest was piqued in high school, like I said, but it really grew in college after I took psychology and sociology courses. Those courses looked at the whys of human behaviour and then attempted to explain them. I feel that my mind was really opened to the idea that you should question everything and make your own determinations based on your feelings and research.
I was raised in a Christian household and questioning things, digging for deeper answers and truths, and generally thinking for yourself, was not really championed. The status quo was the road you were supposed to travel because it was predetermined to be the “right” path. To diverge in any way was tiresome to people; it was seen as disobedient, like there was something about you that was being influenced by evil.
I think I’ve always been somewhat of a disappointment to my mother because of my desire to think for myself and in a lot of cases, buck tradition.
Something like changing my name after marriage was expected of me once I became engaged. But, when the subject was brought up for me to think about and decide on, I really feel like feminism had given me the agency to explore all options and decide what was right for me outside of any societal norms and traditions. I decided not to change my name. Older women in my life still have a hard time with this and consistently address things to me as if I hyphenated my name. I didn’t.
I consider myself an atheist. This might be off-putting to some readers, and that’s okay I guess. I don’t say it with any malice, but I won’t apologize for it either. As I said, having my mind opened to questioning things and developing my own sense of personal agency was probably one of the most important things I learned from my time in post-secondary education.
The more I looked into what I was raised in, as well as other religions since the beginning of time, and the more basic facts I learned about it all, the less likely any of it seemed to be real. And now I no longer believe in any kind of higher power. Do I know for sure nothing like that exists? Of course not. We can never be completely sure of something unless it’s testable and this isn’t a testable hypothesis. But I find it highly unlikely.
If something does exist out there beyond the knowable universe, it, at the very least, is not anything that man currently believes in. I think it would be something so huge as a concept that our human minds wouldn’t be able to comprehend it. And I think that’s why I’m so interested in how energy and math connect, how stars and planets and astrology can tell us things. There’s something to it – but what?
At this point in my life, I’m 100% sure that the gods of current religions do not exist and are simply man-made stories that have stood the test of time because human nature’s default position is a tribe mentality that does not allow for thinking too much for yourself.
When I first broke free of religion, I was pretty angry about it. I went hard against my upbringing and offended a lot of family members in the process. I was young and emotional and ready to fight. Now, a near decade later, I’m much more chill about being an atheist. It’s not something I advertise. I rarely talk about it unless I’m asked. I no longer feel compelled to be on the defensive. I just live my life and let others do the same.
Live and let live, is my canon life philosophy now. I try to be as inclusive and accepting as possible, which hopefully you’ve noticed around this blog. Live and let live, however, does not apply to bad writing and that’s why my reviews are so salty.
Personally, I don’t worry about what other people believe or do, how they identify or who they love. I will never shame anyone here for who they are or what they believe. Life is short, and if something makes you happy (and doesn’t hurt other people) then you should be free to live in that happiness.
The only people I don’t have time for are people who do not approach life the same way – with openness and kindness. If you are a bigot or a racist or feel some rights should only belong to some people; if you live by religious rules that cause you to treat other people as “less than” or look down on them, then I have no time for you. There is no such thing as tolerating intolerance in my world.
Unfortunately, this has meant that I’ve cut off a lot of people in my family. But those fuckers handed me the scissors. Snip, snip, bitch.
Well, would you look at that! I wrote quite a bit about myself and none of it had to do with having arms or wearing clothes!
Behind the scenes, what you don’t know is that I’ve been writing this post for a week because I struggled so much with what I wanted to say.
My picks for this are going to be some new followers/follows who I don’t know very well yet! Hi, guys!
- Becca Leighanne – Your Friendly Neighbourhood Ghoul
- Caidyn and Chantel – BW Reviews
- Ashley – Ashes Books & Bobs (totally wanted to write Boobs & Bobs *shrug*)
- Hâf – The Literary Looter
- Arya – Arya’s Fangirl Lexicon
- Kacey – Tales of a Bibliophile
- Victoria – The Contented Reader
Until next time, Booknerds…