I can’t decide if my advancing years are making me more conservative, or they’re just bringing out my feminist side. Maybe, it’s neither – and it’s simply a measure of my strengthening character that allows me to recognize stupidities and address them.

See, I’m a big fan of fark.com. I think the site is a great deal of fun, the stories are often quite interesting, and it’s great to see other people recognize the same absurdities or stupidities in the news or stories that I sometimes see (the DB gets annoyed with me when I’m in one of those particular moods, and wind up telling off all of the commercials).

I’m also a member of totalfark, which is the paid membership area that allows you access to all kinds of ridiculous conversational threads, and some genuinely helpful advice. I’ve gone for computer solutions on a few occasions, and the other members are a great resource, if you can take the snark in stride (sometimes more, sometimes less).

But, like any internet community, there can be a real downside. And of course, I recognize that some people create persona for themselves online, and they get to pretty much role play a character that isn’t their own, and I can respect that. The problem, however, arises when the misogyny gets so thick you can choke on it – and that seems to happen regularly, even in threads that start out having nothing to do with gender relations.

As one example, there was a news-masquerading-as-an-ad article recently (yeah, I read Drew Curtis’ book, and this article personifies said category), wherein a young girl was being promoted as the next J.K. Rowling, based on nothing but her publicists’ hype – the book hadn’t even had a release or anything else, it was all hyperbole to try to drum up advance excitement about the book and get people out to buy it. However, aside from a few commenters focusing on the article’s stupidity, most of the posters were all about whether or not they’d hit the girl – sleep with, that is. The thread degenerated (if I may say so) into a discussion of the girl’s looks, and nothing more.

Now sure, I’m petty enough that I can enjoy this when they’re doing it to celebrities I dislike, but at the same time, I recognize that it’s just kinda sick. Normally I ignore it, or I stop reading the thread, but that day, it just really started to depress me.

I recognize that human beings judge one another based on looks pretty much 100% of the time. I did it when I started my new job – saw all of the attractive people here, all the girls/women who weigh next to nothing, and felt a little envious. I like to think that I don’t treat someone differently if they don’t fit my personal notion of what constitutes attractive, but speaking realistically, I’m sure on some level I do. I’m sure I get treated differently for the same reasons, and that’s just human nature.

But… to be solely reduced to whether or not I’m fuckable is just depressing. Yet I was on many dating sites for a long time, and I’m sure that was the main basis for whether many of the guys contacted me – would they fuck me. Sure, I chose whether or not I would respond to the guys based on whether or not I found them attractive, but interesting ranked up there just as highly. If I couldn’t have a conversation with them, I couldn’t be arsed to continue talking to them.

But I’m drifting. I was not a particularly attractive child. I was fairly shy (shut up, I still very much can be), I was smart, I was insecure, my best friend became one of the pretty, popular ones, and I got picked on – which totally helped the insecurity, I tell you. I wasn’t into sports, and I was always a bit bigger than many of my friends – or maybe I weighed the same as them, but because I was short, it was more noticeable.

Whatever, that was then, right? Now, I’m older, I’m smarter, I’m usually less shy, I’m fairly attractive though definitely not by society’s standards, I’m insecure, I’m not that into sports, and I’m still not in shape – in fact, I can definitely stand to lose weight now. I’ve had people comment that they’re impressed by my self-confidence, but so much of it is put on that I don’t always know where I end and the fake begins.

But it seems to work. In some situations, like job interviews, I have lots of confidence. At work? Well, I have a lot more now that I’m out from under my last boss’ thumb. In my personal life, I’ve been with a great guy for over a year, and it looks like it’s going to carry on being just as strong a relationship as it has been, and that’s great.

And yet… some of my biggest insecurities have come out while we’ve been together. It seems as though the more I like someone, the more insecure I get when I’m with them. How does that make sense? I guess it’s a byproduct of caring – if I care about losing them or whatever, then I’m more paranoid about things.

That said, I do trust the DB, and ultimately, I’m not concerned that he’s going to leave me or cheat on me or any of those things. I’m just apparently rather analytical, and I know I overthink things, and that gets me to where I am now.

I wasn’t a pretty popular girl in elementary school or high school. I have never been overly concerned about fashion, and I definitely don’t have the ‘ideal’ body – too much stomach, hips and thighs. I’ve been told by one ex- that a great deal of my attractiveness stems from my personality – I’m reasonably certain he meant it as a compliment. For the most part, I like my personality and I like who I am.

But sometimes, when I’m surrounded by skinny people, or attractive people, or bombarded with things like that fark thread, I get depressed, and I get frustrated, and the self-doubts and the insecurities come out. I know it’s unrealistic, but sometimes I want that romantic ideal I’ve read so much about, where I am someone’s everything, and they are my everything.

And sometimes I have to back up and short of shake out my brain. Why? Because while I can find someone else attractive or interesting or smart or funny or whatever, I still want to come home to the DB. Why should I assume he feels differently? Perhaps because in my past I dated guys for whom I was a convenience instead of a desired partner. Of course, throw in the strip club lapdance debate and my insecurity level rises exponentially, but…

I don’t know. I know I have unrealistic desires, but that’s the joy of being rational and emotional – my emotions want one thing, and my brain keeps telling them they’re being ridiculous. Like, I’d love it if I could be somewhere where women – or people in general – didn’t have their hittability factor as paramount.

*sigh* I don’t know where I’m going with all of this. At this point, I think I’m just rambling incoherently.

Anyhow, life is still good-ish. Some stress about school, some waiting on job news… otherwise, it carries on. Though I think I finally got my phone working fully, so that’s nice.

Hokay. Time for a life update before I get into the introspective emo stuff.

First, a few weeks ago, the DB and I visited his little nephew, and nephew’s parents (i.e., his brother and sister-in-law). We had a lovely visit, the nephew, aged a whole 3 ½ weeks at the time, was very cute and very easy-going, and I spent lots of time, along with everyone else, holding him and talking stupid to him, and all of that. The DB’s parents were also present (Mamère and Papère were very happy to see their first grandchild), and Papère said to DB at one point that he’d best watch out – this was upon seeing me with little nephew sleeping on my chest while I was stretched out on the couch. I assured him that my biological clock only ticks about once a year at this point, and while yes, it was ticking now, there was no strong urging going on. Babies are cute, right now I think kittens are cuter, and I’m quite happy to have neither.

We flew back in on a Tuesday night, to the tune of a screaming child for the length of the 4 hour flight. Any biological clock I might’ve had going on was very quickly turned off as a result. Arrived around midnight, greeted the kitties, off to bed.

Cue Wednesday morning, where I started my new job. This was what I was alluding to previously – new job. Free from the shackles of the past and all that, chances to form new opinions, get treated with respect, be appreciated, etc., etc., etc. I almost don’t recognize myself anymore, in that I’m not angry, I’m not tense and paranoid, and I don’t hate nearly everyone in my eyesight. It’s amazing how things can turn around.

That first week, despite being only three days long, was a fairly long one, not aided by the lack of sleep, major PMS and migraines I was experiencing, and the general stress of a new job.

Wednesday night I arrived home, had a bit of time to greet the DB, and then just took it easy for awhile. I did notice however that Venus was acting oddly. She wasn’t really responding to being pet – not moving into it or away from it, not purring, nothing – and she had no appetite, would stay still when held, would stay in one place if you set her down there, and so on. I, in my ever-rational state of mind, particularly as it concerns my kitties, went from being somewhat concerned to being convinced that she was dying of cancer.

The DB came home, and I expressed my concerns (and at this point, I had cried a little but was holding it together), and he tried to soothe me by saying that maybe she was just feeling quiet or some such. When I told him she wouldn’t even take chicken, her absolute favourite treat in the world, he also showed some concern.

I went upstairs to bed, and took Venus with me, placing her on the bed. She ended up curled up on the DB’s side, while I tried to curl up near her, but not crowding her. I also bawled my eyes out for maybe a half hour, repeating my belief that my cat was dying of cancer or some other fatal disease, and so on. Rational to a fault, I am.

When the DB came to bed, he managed to make some space for himself, moving her slightly – she ended up stretched out between us – but couldn’t get enough covers. So he went downstairs to sleep on the couch so that the kitties and I could have the bed for ourselves. I’m still using this story to illustrate that he’s incredible, even if he drives me mental, and will probably do so for some time to come.

When I got up the next morning, the DB stole back into the bed, and Venus stayed there with him. We were both able to get some purrs out of her, so I felt better. I went to work, booked her a vet appointment for Friday just in case, and picked up some baby food on my way home to try to tempt her. The DB was off the rest of the week, so he was able to keep her company.

She ate some baby food, she ate some kitty food, she made her point that she was pissed at me for being away and then not having a weekend or something to pamper her upon my return. I’m still not sure quite what happened, but she was back to herself a day or two later. Little bugger.

Thena, incidentally, is perfectly fine and her usual goofy self. The two of them have been struggling a little – much like the people in the house – with the heat, but there’s a possibility that they figured out last night that sleeping in the basement is cooler. I know they were both down there in the morning when I got up, but that might’ve just been because they have to watch me in the morning, lest I try to sneak out without feeding them. They have their priorities – and they’re valid concerns, given that I have left without feeding them once or twice.

As far as everything else in life is concerned, there’s nothing too major going on. The DB and I have recently started talking about buying a house together, and I raised the issue of how this represents a major commitment, and maybe we should talk about the other major commitment. He asked me which one, with a grin on his face, and I said I was concerned we might have the sex, and that would change things. Men.

So no, no rings, no babies, no mortgages… yet. We’ve talked in the past of how he doesn’t like to be pushed, how he does think about the same things I do but doesn’t necessarily bring them up (which was evidenced when he started telling people that he’d been looking at condo listings with the idea of renting them out to pay the mortgage), and how I usually am the one to bring things up before he does – though he still thinks of them, too. What this means for future commitments, I don’t know. At this stage, there are still things that I’m biting my tongue on, but I’m thinking that’ll have to stop soon. After all, few people get far in life sitting around waiting for good things to happen.