Tags: blog, friends, inspiration, life, random, thoughts
In the big wide world of blogging, there are a lot of classifications.
You can be a sewing blog, a knitting blog, a life blog, a religious blog, a review blog, a challenge blog, a mommy blog, a health blog…. the list goes on and on.
I’ve recently been trying to think about what I would call my blog.
When I started blogging it was back in 2004 on blogspot, and I was bound and determined to become the next Yarn Harlot. She knit, she took pictures, she was funny, and she was popular.
I was sure I’d find people who were similar to me, who had the same likes, the same ideas, and, most importantly, would be my friends and make me feel good about myself…. ok, so I have a few self confidence issues.
I tried, I really did, I just didn’t knit pretty stuff, and I wasn’t funny, and I was trying to be someone people would like, and who wasn’t me. So over time, I decided to stop blogging, or rather, just didn’t find the time. My blog lazed about, and I eventually moved it over to BlogDrive, which seemed like a better site. It had prettier templates at least.
After a few stuttering failures at becoming a famous blogger again, I slowed right down. I tried to make my blog also focus on my costumes, as I went back and forth between hobbies, and just couldn’t seem to pick up speed, or readers for that matter.
I eventually moved my entire blog over here to WordPress, and I like it here… that’s not so say I won’t find another place that I enjoy blogging at more, but for now, this is my blog home. Plus I don’t want to have to take 4 months to move all the posts over from this blog.
Since I’ve been here at WordPress, I’ve tried to join challenges, I’ve posted recipes, I’ve shown my costumes, talked about my body issues, review some plays I went to, talked about my religion and my thoughts… and this year, I’ve started sewing my own clothes.
The problem with these blog classifications is that while many people will only write about a certain topic on their blogs, it doesn’t even begin to cover the variety of things that they do and think in their lives.
There’s a reason that I dubbed this blog “Odds and Sods”. I’m a bundle of them, my house is a bundle of them, my life is a bundle of them. I realized recently that when looking and talking to me you can’t slot me into a catagory. Going over in my head all the things that classify me, this is just a short list of the things that came to mind:
Theater Lover(yes they’re different)
And I could probably think of 20 more things that could classify me. If I fit into all these things, and I write about the majority of them on my blog, does that put me at odds with the pretty little classification system that the Internet has so wonderfully created? Does this leave me on the sidelines as an oddity that doesn’t work into the system and should therefore be ignored?
I don’t know.
I know I have a few more readers than I did when I started, though the majority of them are friends, coworkers, people I know in real life. It would be nice to have a blog where converstions are held in the comments. I just don’t think I’ll ever write that kind of blog. The nice thing is though, that I can go to those kinds of blogs and participate in the conversation in other comment sections.
I’ve also come to terms that I don’t need to make myself be something else to get more people to like me, which is why I’ve stopped trying to be funny, trying to be interesting and trying to be popular. This blog isn’t for me to get friends, it’s for me to write for me. It’s a place where I can put my thoughts and come back to them in the future.
Right now, I don’t really want to go back to the 2004 posts and see what I wrote, because I know that wasn’t who I really was. That was the insecurities of a 22 year old screaming “SOMEONE LOVE ME!!!!!” and I can’t really compare that to who I am other than to know that what I write now IS me.
There’s no point in trying to impress others by being someone I’m not, eventually the truth will come out.
So rather than being fake… I… just ease into my weirdness. At work I didn’t show all my geekitude and costumes and such for the first few months. Now I have a group of coworkers who ask if anything I’m wearing is handmade, another group that’s coming to a geek gamer party we’re having in February… I just didn’t exactly make my geek hood known right away.
This is my blog… It may not ever be on any lists of favourite blogs, it may not every even be read by more than 5 people in a day, but it’s my little spot to put my thoughts, put my pictures, and have something to come back to and see how my life was at this time. If I get more readers, great, but that’s not why I’m writing.
So today we were supposed to head out to the lawyer’s to sign the last few papers before we close on the house.
We didn’t make it… here’s why:
Luckily neither Chris, nor the girl driving the second car that hit him are hurt. We’re assuming the car that started this mess was fine because the guy drove off after a quick check of his bumpers.
Now we have to get the door replaced tomorrow because it won’t open.
Please everyone, drive safe in bad weather!
Till next time.
Please excuse me as I derail the blog for a moment to speak out about something that really bothers me.
I don’t normally do this because I feel that there are a number of things one shouldn’t talk about that could spark anger, frustration and the like in others. Some taboo topics with me are religion, politics, sexuality etc.
However, after having a very busy week filled with more family than I usually care to acknowledge I would like to use my blog to spew some frustration that I cannot spew at my Mother.
One of the biggest issues/fights/disagreements that my mother and I have is to do with my weight.
She thinks I’m becoming fat.
Every time I see her there is at least one comment made revolving around my weight, a specific part of my body and its size, or whether or not I’m on a diet.
Now I need to put this into some perspective. See, up until I was about 22, I was what you would call skinny.
In fact, I was more what you would call…. anorexic. I was 5’5″ and 95 lbs. Don’t believe me? Here’s exhibit A and B.
Frightening isn’t it… I’m 21 in those pictures and I’m dressed like a child because pretty much the only clothes that would fit me were children’s size. I was a size 0, by society’s standard I was perfect!
I was thin, average height, and I died my hair blond (I actually have mousey brown hair). However, I wasn’t happy.
I had a very bad body image because I was so skinny, I felt disgusting in a bikini because of how my ribs stuck out. My mom loved showing me off to people, taking me out. She and I always fought because I refused to wear makeup or dress pretty. I didn’t see myself as she did. She thought I was perfect, beautiful and ready to become Paris Hilton (before there was a Paris Hilton).
Me, I’m one of the boys, plus I thought I was horrifically ugly and that no one would want to have someone who was skin and bones as a girlfriend. Not to mention that I was unhealthy. I would get a cold at the beginning of October, and be stuck with it (in varying severities) until April at least.
Then when I was 22 I went on the pill. This was more to do with a very serious hormonal imbalence than with the pill’s more standard purpose. And lo and behold, I suddenly hit puberty. My body got the memo and realized that I was an adult. And my mom went berzerk.
First thing that happened was I “ballooned” up to 130 lbs in about 6 months. I gained my figure and became regular (HALLELUJA!!!!)
Over the next 3 years to now I have plateaued with my weight, I slowly continued to gain weight to 150lbs *GASP*, however I’ve been steadily between 145 and 150 for about the last year at least.
This of course sends my mother into conniptions. I’m obviously fat, or at the very least heading in that direction.
I tried, at one point, to reason with her. I was moving and had my friend helping me get my bed out of her house, and this was the first time she’d met him. I took a couple of moments while he was taking his shoes off to follow my mom into the kitchen and the following dialogue ensued.
Me: Mom, I was taking my measurements for a costume yesterday and I noticed something. You see here, this part of my thigh, it’s 20 inches around… that’s how skinny my waist used to be. (I foolishly thought it would make her realize how horrifically skinny I had been)
Mom: (looking me straight in the face and with no sense of humour at all) Well you are a bit of a thunder thighs Jess…
My friend’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe my mom said that, not only straight to my face, but in front of him when she’d known him less than five minutes.
He still mentions that moment, my Mom states it never happened.
Recently I was buying clothes, and I had naturally migrated to the 3-5 size section because, when you’ve bought that for the last 10 years of your life, it’s hard to step back. As I was trying on clothes I realized something.
Not only and I no longer a 3-5 size, I’m actually a 9-13… and I’m ok with that.
I have a very good body image now, I have CURVES! I have a fiancé who loves me and loves the way I look. I’m healthy (I went to my doctor’s and they didn’t bat an eyelash at my weight), I have one, maybe two minor colds a year, and I feel good!
As I realized this I decided that I was going to take pictures to keep in my memory that just because I’m no longer a size 0 means nothing when it’s compared to how I feel about myself.
I’m just amazed at how women are not only destructive to themselves, but to others. I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard one woman describe another as a “bertha butt” or some other derogatory name regarding her weight.
I honestly think that body image and the illness of Anorexia and Bulimea are started at home. If we were more supportive of each other, in the house, in school, on the streets and at work, then maybe we would realize that 150 lbs is all right.
Honestly, the amount of times the topic of weight came up at work and an otherwise healthy, happy woman would say she wants to lose 15 pounds, when in reality, her issues were with toning and she really just needed to do some crunches, I can’t begin to tell you.
I just think that a lot of issues for women could be helped if we would only look at the beauty that is there. If you’re healthy, what does it matter if you have ‘birthing hips’ or what not, why does size have to be such an issue.
Like I said, I’m now, on average, a size 10, and I would rather be here than be a size 0 any day. If only because I’ve been there, and I know how horrible it is.
Besides, if at a size 10 I can still wear an outfit like this and be comfortable (and get boyfriend bonuses) then there really isn’t a problem, is there…
Till Next Time!
So, I am going to take a small digression from my vacation (at the beginning of this post) to talk about the significance of today for me. 9/11 happened when I was 18 years old, I was in my first year at college, and I was failing miserably. When I heard that the World Trade Centre had been hit by a plane I didn’t really believe it, it was too much for me to comprehend. I was actually in class when one of our teachers told us, however by the time we knew, the WTC had already collapsed.
Thinking back on that day I am ashamed of myself. I was too immature to really grasp what had happened, and it was too far away from home for me to really feel the impact it truly had on the world. My main memory from that day was that the senator in California (I think) who was being investigated for the disappearance of a young woman would be really happy now that the heat was off him.
Not my shiniest moment.
However, over the next year I changed and grew, and in the April following I watched a documentary on some of the firefighters that went up the towers. It was then that everything hit me as to what really happened that day and how much was lost. I bawled like a baby for a good 3 hours.
Turning on the tv today was hard for me, I look back on that day with so much emotion now, pain for those who suffered, both those who died/were injured, and those who survived, and Shame for the way I reacted to it.
The way I try and remember that day is with hope. While so many horrible things happened, it also brought so many people together.
Due to this, I try to think about what I’m grateful for having, that if something that catastrophic happened to me, what could I look back and be happy about.
Right now it’s this:
A loving fiancé
A happy family
An appreciation for beauty
The ability to knit
And most importantly, the opportunity to give back to others.
Which is why today at 6:35, I am donating blood and why even though I’m terrified of needles, I’m going to try and donate blood more often. Being O- means that my blood is not only one of the most rare, but is also a universal donor.
On days like today, it’s always good to list what you appreciate, because you never know when it will be taken away from you.
Till next time