Do not poke the headachey Jade.

Dear Asshat calling from a Private number,

Let's get one thing straight: You called me on my cell phone from a number I assume you knew would not be identified on my caller ID. That you called once and hung up was fine, though it pissed me off. However, that you then called a second time and were told that you had the wrong number when you asked for Amanda does not mean you get to ask me who I am.

Oh, yes, I was rude with you when you asked me who I was. You want to know why? First of all, you have my cell phone number, and like most people who have unlisted numbers, I don't like it when someone I don't know - especially someone who won't identify himself first - has my phone number. You honestly think I'm going to just tell you who I am when you don't tell me who you are first? Secondly, you called me at two o'clock in the morning on a school night. What the fuck kind of reception did you expect? I'm sure Amanda or whoever you were trying to reach might be accustomed to calls in the middle of the night, but when I have to be awake in four hours and am dealing with a headache, I am not exactly my friendliest. Thirdly, let's get back to the part where you're a strange man calling a single mom who lives alone with her child at two in the morning. Let's just say I was a bit more than slightly unnerved and went and checked all my door locks after I got off the phone with you. I am ever so thankful that I have two dogs who will bark if someone approaches my door, one of them may like strangers, but the other (as my boyfriend can attest) most certainly does not appreciate strangers, particularly men she doesn't know. Also, trust me when I say that you would have really known what rude was had my boyfriend still been visiting me.

Next time you call and reach a wrong number, the proper thing to do is to say "I am sorry for the inconvenience/I have the wrong number" and then hang up the phone and try a different phone number.

Learn some manners and don't call back,

Jade

Moff's Law

From now on, I am invoking Moff's Law anytime someone tells me I should just enjoy something without reading "too much" into it.

Of all the varieties of irritating comment out there, the absolute most annoying has to be “Why can’t you just watch the movie for what it is??? Why can’t you just enjoy it? Why do you have to analyze it???”

If you have posted such a comment, or if you are about to post such a comment, here or anywhere else, let me just advise you: Shut up. Shut the fuck up. Shut your goddamn fucking mouth. SHUT. UP.

First of all, when we analyze art, when we look for deeper meaning in it, we are enjoying it for what it is. Because that is one of the things about art, be it highbrow, lowbrow, mainstream, or avant-garde: Some sort of thought went into its making — even if the thought was, “I’m going to do this as thoughtlessly as possible”! — and as a result, some sort of thought can be gotten from its reception. That is why, among other things, artists (including, for instance, James Cameron) really like to talk about their work.

(Read the whole thing.)

I love Supernatural -- love it --, but I can still see the underlying sexism in some of the episodes, and I can complain about its portrayal of women (Note: I have seen none of the fifth season, but I doubt it's changed much). I love the hell out of the Vlad Taltos novels by Stephen Brust, but that doesn't mean I think they are without issues and that I can't say "Well, I would like to see more of X, Y, and Z." I can enjoy something for what it is while analyzing the hell out of it. It's what I do, it's what I enjoy, and I will share that with others.

Anyway, time to take my achy and sleep deprived self to bed for a nap. I hate how much headaches drain me, especially when I didn't get much sleep (see aforementioned asshat calling at two in the freakin' morning).

Bad Dreams

Does it count as restful sleep if it's punctuated by bad dreams? I'm still waking up as it were, and I'm trying to shake the memory of what I dreamed. I don't remember everything, just that most of it was pretty awful, and the highlights involved someone getting disemboweled (as a prank, no less), and then Sam dying or nearly dying while some onlookers joked about it (no one I knew at least).

No idea what triggered this set of dreams, and I'm rather certain that the parts that are fuzzy I want to remain fuzzy. Blargh. It doesn't help that this cold weather is playing heck with my joints and lower back. (Yes, I do feel old, thanks for asking.)

I have to leave in half an hour to take the kiddo to speech, and then come home to do dishes and straighten up the kitchen a bit. Also squeeze in some writing if I can get my mind off these dreams.