Ruby Wildflower

One of my goals this year was to have an article published for The Hoopla.

Within three weeks of deciding on that goal, it came true. And here it is:

Click here for scarlety goodness.

Next up… Jezebel.

When it was my birthday recently, I received a package in the mail – something I had ordered online had arrived.

My mum saw it and jokingly said, ‘awww the internet sent you a birthday present’. She’s quasi funny for such a little lady. That snowballed my thoughts from ‘the internet is an entity’ to ‘the internet is God’! Seamless connection, obviously.

What if the internet was my Universe? And not just in the sense that it’s my Universe because I spend every flipping second on it. But what if it was my Divine? You may like to choose to call it God. You might also like to choose to call it cybery goodness.

Reverting back to my Western Philosophy classes (man, how I love-hated them) if we use Liebniz’s Law we can arrive at the conclusion, that the Internet, is in fact, God.

What’s this Liebniz shit, you say?

It’s a metaphysical principle that states if something has all the properties of something then it must be something. Clear as mud, right? See now why I had to sleep with most of my uni lecturers?

So if an object has all the same properties of an apple (it’s green, it’s juicy, it has an apple taste etc) then it must be an apple.

Similarly, if the internet has all the properties of a monotheistic God then it must be a monotheistic God. YOU HEARD.

Properties of God vs internet:

Omniscience (check) that internet shit is fucking EVERYWHERE. It’s in your phone, your workplace, your dreams and with at least 9.5 billion webpages indexed on Google alone that bitch is ALL OVER shit.

Omnipresent (check) the internet never stops working, it’s ALWAYS THERE. Now that WiFi is a thing, it can pretty much be accessed from every acre of the earth. Except mid afternoon in my office apparently.

Omnipotent (check) it has incredible power. Remember recently when Charlotte Dawson copped it from every corner of the internet? Remember when Anonymous started hacking the life out of everything:

And lives are saved. And more lives are saved.

Also, internet dating. If that’s not powerful, I don’t know what is. Amirite?

I know of two couples recently who have met online and are in all kinds of besottedness. And I swear, you couldn’t even make this shit up but each set of lovers discovered they live on the same street. I’ve been door knocking up and down my street ever since I’ve heard.

Omnibenevolent (check okay uncheck no, wait check)

We can see from Charlotte’s experience that it’s not infinitely good. But we’ve already discovered via the problem of evil that no such omnibenevolent God exists. I would like to think that the internet, like God, doesn’t label things with good nor bad nor ‘going viral worthy’ or ‘Facebook Like’ worthy and thus the internet is God. Follow me? No. Don’t worry about it, just Google it or some shit. Although ironically, Google’s company policy states you can ‘make money without doing evil’ http://www.google.com/about/company/philosophy/ (see point six)

Other substantiation:

You can pray to her:

https://www.christianprayercenter.com/

NB: So I thought I would test this out in the nature of research. I submitted my prayer and BAMM they asked me for money so that God would grant me my prayer. The fuck? They have been consistently spamming me with emails ever since demanding that I don’t ‘let Satan into my home.’ Quite freaked out now, so praps don’t try this at home kids.

It’s fairly immortal. We couldn’t’ destroy that shit if we tried. Zuckerberg might be able to though.

It’s also source of comfort, information, guidance, inspiration, devotion and a place to share. And if you’re like me you spend more time interacting with it than you do with other people, or even yourself.

Also, you guys, YOU GUYS, the internet has some really cool videos of cats. Not sure if you’ve seen any yet or not.

Smartness is happening

Generation bashing: another one of my loathed persecutions (alongside denigrating people for their sexual preference, their gender and their weight).

This week I was inactively part of a conversation with a group of people from a different generation to me. One person took it upon themselves to verbally bash Gen Ys about their inconsistencies in their communication – their apparent lack of consonants in speech and in writing etc etc. You’ve heard it all before, Gen Ys can’t write because they text etc bloody etc. Gen Ys don’t put thought into their communication. Gen Ys are borderline illiterate. Snore.

This person openly and passionately said this in front of me. Which could mean a few things:

1.     she thought I was older than Gen Y (waaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh)
2.     she didn’t care nor think this might be offensive and or incorrect.

Both of which left me staring uncomfortably at the floor as the implicit ageism hung unpleasantly in the air. Sadly, this is common for me to hear this from similar aged people.

I’m bored of hearing this adultocracy. Okay, I concede that it may appear that way because we’re more interested in time saving and perhaps my view is skewed because my predominant peer group are arts focussed but I don’t see this. I’m sure there ARE groups of Gen Ys (and Zs) that ascribe to this theory, as the television show Class of 10  bases some of its premises on (although it’s quick to show that a lot of the students involved having some disadvantages in life which may contribute).

Furthermore, if the reverse were to occur, would that be okay? Can I start openly hating on older generations because they aren’t digital natives or because they aren’t as efficient as we are? Should I lament to anyone who will listen that Baby Boomers prefer to sit around and have five meetings about one small task, whilst we (typically) just get it the fuck done?

In a weird twist of converse societal norms, it seems the loud mouthed, uncouth Gen Ys and Zs are actually the contained and tolerant ones in these circumstances.

I can sympathise. Ephebiphobia must be a terrible challenge to have. It must be scary and foreign to be part of a world that is rapidly changing when you would prefer to hold onto a different time. I’m also supportive of those people who are not interested in embracing technology and the digital “revolution”. Just don’t whinge how you are hard done by and especially don’t gripe about how abhorrent younger generations are.

Because we’re really fucking not. You know how I know? I see greatness occur around me everyday. Take Willow and Blake for example, a couple of young things who are uber cool and running their own copywriting company and just being generally fabulous. Similarly, with The Library Bag. Then there’s Bkclb, run by a couple of guys in their very early twenties and helping to propel literature into the future. There’s this girl, she’s just written a book and signed a million dollar contract for it. Happens. You’ve all seen Danger 5. Made by people much younger than me. And then there’s Wastelander Panda.

This is just a microcosm of the epic things that the newer generations are creating. I think that Zuckerberg guy did something epic as well. And they still use LOL.

When did fat shaming become a thing?

Okay, being overweight is unhealthy. We empirically accept that as a society. From personal experience, I believe there’s a direct correlation between being overweight and being unhappy and not being true to yourself.

But fat shaming? Really? The headless A Current Affair footage of protruding gunts over beige chinos are horrendous enough but to fat shame on the internet or snicker behind healthily lithe hands at the lady who walks with a bit of a waddle? I cannot accept this.

My fat shaming fury was triggered the other day when a Facebook friend posted a photograph of an overweight lady at a restaurant, referring to her as a ‘NASA rocket ship’. I was shocked. I’ve met this person a couple of times and he is genuinely sweet and lovely. With mouth agape, I wrote that I thought his comment was ‘pretty fucking foul’ (refer to image) and then proceeded to unfriend him. A few days have passed and I’m still taken aback.

This person had publicly humiliated someone because of physicality. You know, something that is a small part of what makes up a person? Like say, your sexual preference. The perpetrator of this particular incident defines himself as a homosexual. So surely – SURELY – he would have some infinitesimal amount of empathy as to what it is like to not fit in a hundred per cent of the time and be judged on something that is not entirely of his choosing. And if you fucking think for one second that someone CHOOSES to be fat, you’re delusional.

What’s next? Should we brunette shame? Should we accountant shame? I’m fucking sickened that these people are my peers.

Here’s some more disparaging comments in support of the fat shaming in question:

‘Eagerly studying the menu it seems… perhaps as saliva starts to spool in the corner of her mouth and slowly drips its way off  “It’s” chin…’

‘…Oh and any coincidence she chooses the chair facing the icecreams??? Bravo indeed to get between her and that Ice Cream bar…’

‘ Studying the menu?? She ate the menu. GROTESQUE!!!’

‘lol. BRAVO!’

‘i thought only Americans looked like that…’

‘I’m sure she’s beautiful on the inside…………., like, fairy floss…. burgers…cheese cake…. did you say steak….chocolate….. We need to start reading the book, not looking at the cover… You may need a tub of flour and some butter before reading this one tho.’

Embarassing for her, embarassing for the poster and embarassing for me.

The Leader of the South Australian Opposition, Isobel Redmond, suggested women just ignore sexual discrimination in the workplace and get on with their job. Oh Izzy!

Obviously, that’s fucking mental.

Additionally, here it’s reported she said ‘whereas if you take that legal approach then very likely all you’ll do is entrench the hatred of women in the very people whose minds you’re trying to change.’

Yes. Everyone knows the most lovable kind of woman is a silent woman.

What year is it? Just remind me? Because I could have sworn it was twenty twelve, however everything feels a little reminiscent of the nineteen fifties (great fashion, not amazing for women’s lib).

It makes my heart shrink at the edges to realise that Izzy is just perpetuating what is occurring all around me, in my glorious city on any working weekday.

Let’s zoom in on some ordinary corporate humans just doing their Mrs Business thing:

In the East side of the city we have Petunia. She’s a marketing manager for a well known brand and is very good at what she does. One day, she gets called into her boss’s office where she is complimented on her latest work project. Proceeded by being asked to dress better, ‘perhaps more like Cindy’. I wish I could say that I made this up.

She is shocked because she sits in an office where very few people see her and her appearance has no effect on her performance in the fucking slightest. She was called into her boss’s office a second time a few days later to be told; ‘oh and you’re going to need to wear more make up’.

This sickens me to the pit of my stomach because I’ve worked with her in the past and I know that she is excellent at what she does and oddly her performance is never affected by how much Max Factor she’s slathered on her already uber attractive face.

Let’s now cross to the West side of the city where Caroline was encouraged in a not-so-subtle way to get a dog, so she’d be forced to walk it and lose weight. It was also arranged that her picture was omitted from an industry publication that she had wrote for, on behalf of the company. That she practically runs.

In the very heart of the city works Jessica. Jessica was told by her male boss that she was retarded. Yes, he even used the “r” word. I felt pretty confident that justice would be whipped out given that she worked in the public sector. Oh. What a ludicrous joke. He wasn’t even issued with a warning.

Cut back to a few years ago when Maria was told in a tongue in cheek manner not to wear her military style boots when an important client came in. I worked at the same workplace and wore fishnet stockings on the regular. Which were never discouraged.

Let’s zoom in now, to the deepest, repressed memories of my professional working life when I worked under a CEO who claimed I was ‘too sensitive’ and my coworker was deemed ‘too confident’. Neither traits seemed to damage our professional performance; I’d even suggest they enhanced it.

When I pressed my girlfriends why they didn’t engage in any formal or informal dispute policy they all shared the same views: they were either afraid of losing their job, felt it was easier just to ignore it and/or were afraid of additional bullying or inappropriate behaviour. I, too, have taking the ‘it’s just easier not to’ approach.

I spent a few days trawling through the slush that is my memory to recall a male friend discussing a time at work when he was reprimanded for something that was not performance based. Unsurprisingly, I was not successful.

Oh there’s one detail that I’ll highlight, all the bosses – with the exception of Jessica’s – I’ve mentioned that have indicted this offensive and possibly illegal behaviour have been female. I’m more frightened now than ever that women are going to be rather active in setting our progression back by decades.

Also, I ignored a cough I had once. Turned into whooping cough, which I ignored and then that turned into pneumonia. Just saying.

It’s a safe assumption that I am micro seconds off becoming internet famous (which is all I want out of life really). So when this happened last week, I knew I was closer than I thought.

Stop telling my I need to charge my phone.

We all know that Google NEVER lies and I think it’s all time that we just accept that Ruby knows best. And yes, men do look good in beanies. Trust me, I’m a blogger.

I’m hungover. Different.

Imma pull back from drinking for awhile. Because old. And also because winter.

See you in spring raspberry vodka and Coke!

Bitchplease.Getoffmyface.