LOVELY shopper at JCPenney - "happy" holidays . . .

Dear You:

The story has gone viral.  Racist woman (pictured above) goes nuts and unloads insults on the customer ahead of her.  Racist woman's claim is that customer had broken in line or something silly like that.  Her reaction . . . LOVELY! Among my favorite quotes from racist woman is "go back to where you came from".  Really?

But I digress.  This story connects to my adventures in retail!  Yes!  I am outing myself now as a JCPenney sales associate, the store-site of this hideous event!  And I am assigned to the Shoe Department, the department that sells the things inside that green box racist woman is holding.  I happen to know that is a boot box.  Imagine those legs in boots and leggings.  Imagine those legs (or similar owners of similar legs) walking around your department on the daily.  Imagine the questions the mouths belonging to those legs ask.

Apparently, racist woman has been "banned" from the mall housing this JCP location.  But what else will be done?  Should she be "punished" further?  Not really.  It's just speech, stupid speech, but still just speech.  Besides, Karma is already on the job.   If you can see the photo, you can see HER.  There it is . . . justice.  Poor old thing has to live inside that . . . body.  Outside reflecting inside.

I wonder what JCPenney will do about this?  I'm sure they'll create pointless workshops about protecting customers from racist rants, etc. The problem, however, is that many of these sales associates are reprimanded if they stand up for themselves, colleagues, or the sweet customers.   I don't care.  My record shows a consistently fearless "talk back" history :)  But others are afraid.  They are told that the customer is always right and they must make ALL customers happy . . . even the stupid, business-killing ones.  Something in the working "climate" there held that sales associate back.  But I cannot say exactly what held the other customers back.  That is a puzzle . . .

Please, everybody.  Speak.  "We" > "fat woman holding boot box".

Happy Christmas Eve Eve . . .

XO

Joyce

Oh HELL no!

Dear you . . .

Sweet Madea, my muse and comedic savior.  Tyler Perry blessed us with this gal and only she can speak for me now:

"What the hell is wrong with you?  LISTEN TO ME, little hands Donald.  Why you appointing some trashy wrestling  woman, Uncle Ben, and some big ass oil executive to your cabinet?  You actin like this is a kitchen cabinet, filling it up with cracked junk.  Hell to the DAMN no."

Hell 2 the no.

Pruitt appointed to take over the Environmental Protection Agency.  Pruitt - the oil dude.  Pruitt - currently suing the EPA itself.  Pruitt - from OKLAHOMA.

Jesus Lord.

Might as well go ahead and rename the agency:  Environmental Destruction Agency.

This kills me.  The majority of American people have got it together and will survive the Donald's rule.  Legally, socially, technically, we will regress under this administration, but we'll come back.  We can. I can.  I can even survive the neighbor sending a redneck sheriff to pound on my door, giving me the third degree about a broken light pole at a Trump-neighbor's house.  (Like really, this wasn't just a cop looking for testimony; he was SENT to shake me down.  This dumb ass neighbor actually thought I, the one democrat in zip code 32461, or at least the only visible one, destroyed the pole-light because it illuminated a TRUMP-PENCE sign.  Hell 2 the No again.) But yes, I will survive the world according to Trump.

But the planet?  Mother Earth on-the-edge and so close to going over . . .

I may have Tweeted hopeful "I will work with you" statements, but those days are DONE.

Fuck these deplorables :)

Love and kisses to you adorables :)

Joyce, trying to channel her inner Madea

Tea time, ladies! Happy Thanksgiving?

Dear you . . .




So, we have all been busy in terms of information absorption.  Yes, an election over . . . with an unusual outcome.  Understatement.  History "unmade" because I will not see Sister Clinton as POTUS.  However, that Tuesday night, after I lifted my paralyzed self from the couch, I got busy.  Tasks:

1.  Research which sector (environment, education, etc.) I need to devote time to/defend.

     Information absorption time spent on this task:  100 hours to date

2.  Figure out why I feel like the outcome was driven by some anti-femme reaction.

     Information absorption time spent on  clarifying this "feeling":  10 minutes

Only ten minutes because I really don't want to know if this is true.  Perhaps the assigned roles are not really changing after all.  Consider the White House meeting of POTUS Obama and POTUS elect Trump. Then consider a parallel meeting in another room, a lesser space. (See photo.)  The women met for tea.  Seated properly in dainty chairs.  Contrast that to the power postures of their mates (note Donald's red power tie dangling over his power zone).



Why didn't the femme-meeting look like this?



Women running together in an urban, free space.  Women moving.

Depressing.  Same shit different day.  And yet, there is reason for euphoria!  As Donald would say (and said), what have I/we got to lose?  Go big or go home.  Make noise and refuse to cooperate.  But on the other hand, why not be reasonable?  Good change might occur.  But then again, here comes Bannon, Flynn, and possibly Rudy G. as Secretary of State (Oh Hell No).  But wait! Donald has totally backed away from his scariest campaign horrors (Muslim ban, torture doctrine, or "lock her up"), hurrah!

It feels like this:



I guess I should be thankful I can feel at all. The struggle can continue, whatever that means.

So today, Thanksgiving 2016, I choose to appreciate the ride.
And I am definitely OFF THE COUCH!

XO

Joyce

Sanity, baby!

 
Dear you:

Swamped by normalcy (working my hilarious retail gig, online essay tutoring, maintaining beach-house-beach-yard-beach-life), I emerge daily to hear the news.  Yes, that would be election drama.  We are so close to November 8.  This will be a Hillary Clinton win.  And here we go again . . . another happy, historical day (a female as POTUS) will be fucked up by those guys (and gals).  Please "enjoy" this excerpt from a Boston Globe article:  

"If she’s in office, I hope we can start a coup. She should be in prison or shot. That’s how I feel about it,” Dan Bowman, a 50-year-old contractor, said of Hillary Clinton, the Democratic nominee. “We’re going to have a revolution and take them out of office if that’s what it takes. There’s going to be a lot of bloodshed. But that’s what it’s going to take. . . . I would do whatever I can for my country.”
He then placed a Trump mask on his face and posed for pictures."

I was frozen with horror and rage until I got to the mask moment. 

Does this dude imagine he is part of a V for Vendetta movement?  "V" is opposed to everything Trump.
Yet these dudes and dudettes see themselves as rebels, freedom fighters, ready to lock up the MAJORITY of American citizens who will elect Clinton.

During the Reagan years, I remember being baffled by many things.  One was the fact that he was not (to me) a great communicator.  Vague phrasing and big smiles.  However, not being INSANE, I realized the MAJORITY of my brothers and sisters had voted him into office.  And I had to think about that.  And respect that.  And move the hell on.  That is what liberals do.  (See the Gore v. Bush situation too.)

The contractor featured in the Globe piece is INSANE.  And not in the good way, the cool and swervy Seal's song "Crazy" way.

Who would blatantly try to incite DE-VOLUTION?  Donald.  I wonder what Trump really thinks about the man in the mask?  He thinks he's a tool, a fan, a customer for his future Trump Network (his real motivation for running for POTUS).   But after November 8, neither Donald nor Hillary actually have to deal with the masked contractor.  I do.  You do.  And it won't be pretty.   "They" (yes, I used the awful, vague pronoun) aren't pretty and since it is now very correct to be so fallacious, I'll say it again.  "They" aren't pretty.  And they all should be required to:
1.  Sleep in beautifying mud masks.
2.  Memorize the amazing poem "We Wear the Mask".
3.  Research the author and context of the above poem.
4.  Spend one hour a day reading (can they?) substantive "media" journalism.
5.  Participate in fitness boot camps.  Exercise = Endorphins.  Endophins = Sanity (See the great El Woods in Legally Blonde.)

So, enjoy history being made on 11/08/2016.  And remember, "we" outnumber "them".

XO
Your Joyce

Nature . . . storms and blood and wonder.

Dear you . . .

Red in tooth and claw.  And wet.  And sometimes wonderful.

Finally posting this month (!) to express unease as a tropical storm swirls around the Gulf of Mexico.  I don't want to wish it on someone else, but I also don't want it here.  Random.  Nature.

When is it not wonderful?  It is not wonderful when you wake up to discover murdered kittens on your porch.   Long story about that.  But in summary, my outside-tame pet (Gato) has produced children.  This last batch belongs to a little gal who did not know how to protect them in the bushes/brush.  She brought them on to the porch she knows.  I let it be.  And overnight, something (probably a possum) did not let it/them be.

So, good morning carnage.

I cleaned up the scene and now witness the confused Momma Cat meowing.

She has survived.  And so has Mr. Gato.  This deal I cut with nature, ever optimistic, thinking the odds were always in my free creatures' favor was naive.  I am still a city girl in a not so city place.

Waiting for the next natural event.

Rest in peace, creatures.
Give it your best shot.
I guess that is all any of us can do.

Talk about a tropical depression.

Shaking it off,
Your Joyce

France . . .

 
Dear you,

To honor and celebrate what France is and inspires, enjoy the words of one of that nation's greatest poets:

Be Drunk

Charles Baudelaire, 1821 - 1867

You have to be always drunk. That’s all there is to it—it’s the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: “It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.”

The above is compliments of poets.org I believe.

Carry on.

XO

Joyce

Political Hair!

Dear you:

Please consider these two pictures . . .




The top dude is Sir Johnson of the UK "we are out of the European Union" clan.  And you know who the bottom dude is.

Both have interesting hair in common.  Fluffy.  Crazy.  Strangely albino-like.
And under both of those hair-dos (or don'ts) we can find fluffy, crazy, strangely albino-like brains.
Shared nationalism of the 19th-20th century variety and fear of global anything dance around their gray matter.  Which I have now decided leads to hair-reaction!

Both share rebellious hair.  Those strands on each reactionary head long to fly free!  They want to EXIT those heads they reside on.  GET ME OUTTA HERE!

So, don't blame their hair.
Blame their brains.

And that is as deep as I am capable of being this hot June day, 2016.

XO

Your Joyce

Burn baby burn . . . moments in history and the "student body"

 
Dear You!

Last night, our nation saw Hillary Clinton take the stage as the first female nominated by a major party for POTUS.  I am older, a second-wave 70's feminist, so the moment was huge for me.  But we have so much left to do (in addition to working for Clinton and stopping the silly Donald).  Task:  Erase cultural habits controlling female bodies.  This task may be harder than confronting legal and economic challenges, equal treatment under the law and equal pay/opportunity.  Case in point, please read the linked-story about this young American  woman:

http://www.msn.com/en-us/lifestyle/style/montana-teen-stages-protest-after-school-demands-she-wear-bra-i-was-told-a-male-teacher-had-complained-he-was-uncomfortable/ar-AAgNF8n?li=BBnbcA0&ocid=mailsignout

First of all, what kind of "teacher" is this dude?  The man was discomforted by the student's body?  I don't even need to analyze that for you.  He sounds . . . well . . . like many of my college-teaching colleagues at the final-gig here in PCB.  In that zone, there were women who would critique bodies and designate appropriate attire.  Keep in mind, many of these chicks doing the designating looked like hot messes.  Not the fun kind of hot messes, the "I am repressed and alienated from my body and feel the need to control other females who intimidate me with their lack of repression and alienation" kind of hot messes. 

Next, why should anyone wear a bra if she/he does not choose to?  See the above photo.  Yes, Ms. Dolly needs support :)  But I guarantee you that strong woman has never been forced to wear anything she did not damn well want to.

So, here I am in 2016, happy about last night's moment in history and student Juvik's stand.  Here's to Clinton and Juvik . . . and, most importantly, to all those male students who stood with Ms. J. and wore bras on top of their shirts!  How hilarious.  How strong.  They are mighty good men!

Cheers.
XO

Joyce

June 1 - hurricane season begins and status flex continues!

Dear you . . . Observe, please:

This photo (thank you Google images) can be found if you search "Inlet Beach FL".  The old pier, or what remains of it, has been there since I visited the family beach house as a child.  The creature, however, is something I have never encountered in this zone.

What is this gorgeous deer-thing doing here?
What on earth is his chance of survival?

Identify, identify.  I do.  What am I doing here?  What on earth are my chances of survival?

It is gorgeous still.  The Gulf is warm and I dove into it with gratitude today.  I work retail; I work online.  I hustle in happy singularity.  But the strange non-city-life problem continues.  Yes, the population is dense.  Very few green spaces remain, which may explain why the deer is on the beach.  But the community is non-existent.  Good luck connecting with anything that is not "family" targeted, whatever that means.

So, here I am.  On the beach.  Like the deer, I admire the beauty.  Unlike the deer, I think too much.  Today's thoughts are about change; not actual growth-change but vanishing acts. What was here yesterday is gone, or crumbling like the old Inlet Beach Pier.

1.  I have not seen a healthy group of pelicans flying over the Gulf in a while.
2.  My favorite outdoor cat-pet (Coco Loco) disappeared over the Memorial Day weekend.
3.  Our beach is eroding.  Stroll over the walkway to the coast in front of my home and you will see a cliff and a sharp drop-off into water.
4.  One of my silly summer pleasures, So You Think You Can Dance, now features CHILD competitors.  Gone, the struggle between hot, adult dancers.
5.  My zip code is changing and so will my two thousand pieces of ID and account information.  Yes, now Inlet Beach will have its own exclusive zip code.  Please.

Hurricane season is here and I suppose I can only hope we dodge a "big one".  That is a change nobody wants, disaster.  If one hits, big, the last poles of that crumbling pier will surely fall and I will move on to god knows where.  Perhaps I will follow the pelicans and Coco Loco . . . wherever they are.  None of us really knows what is up next.  That is wonderful.  That is sad.  That is fabulous fact!

XO

Happy June :)

Kisses,
Joyce

Quick geography lesson!

Dear you.  Study this map from bigthink.com:



Enough said!

To quote a song from years past "the comedy is that it's serious".

Ciao for now!
Joyce

April surreal showers!

Dear You!

My life in customer service has truly limited my blog-time, so here we are in April already.  (I suppose I should change my blog promise to a monthly record.)  And here I am in "people pleasing" purgatory.

My escape from professor-world at the strange (very) local college was enabled by retail employment.  But this recent wage earning adventure is losing its appeal, at times.  Some days are total bad-fit situations.  Working at an old style department store here in PCB, I have learned that in this part of the country, "nice" is more important than efficient.  I am not "nice".   Check.  I have also learned that many customers are . . . confused and/or confusing.  I do not handle mental confusion well.  Checkmate.

Inspired by the photo-joke above, my list today shares ten mind-blowing questions I have been asked while "in service":
1.  Do you work here?  (This asked while I wear a name tag and am on my knees organizing shoe boxes.)
2.  Do you have a bathroom?  (Yes.  I have several. In my mansion.)
3.  Do you have matching mother-baby daughter shoes?  (What?  Does Mom want to wear white plastic baby shoes or does Daughter want to wear ultra-mini versions of office pumps?)
4.  Can I pay for this here?  (I am standing at a cash register with my arms extended.  Having just said "I can help you here.")
5.  Am I too old for these shoes?  (Do you want to date them?)
6.  Am I too fat for these shoes?   (I don't even know what that means.)
7.  Can I return these pants?  (Whatever.  But those pants have been worn countless times -- see ketchup stains -- and our store has not carried that brand of britches since 1990.)
8.  Do you like working here?  (Really?)
9.  Are you hiring?  (Yes.  Yes.  Yes. Always.)
10. Do you mind watching my kids while I go to the sock department?  (Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  I definitely mind.)



The experience.  The story.  The occasional paid bill.  Those little big things make my time "in service" amusing and bearable.  However, I share this advice:  Worker beware!

Meanwhile, HAVE A NICE DAY!  AND COME SEE US AGAIN!

XOXOXO

Truly yours,
Joyce

Beware the Ides of March!

As my post title notes, beware the Ides of March.  I know that alludes to classical literature, but really, I don't know what that actually means . . . classically.  I do know what it means in terms of 2016, America.  It means election horror.

This is Super Tuesday.  Our sort of kind of crazy system for political party primaries has arranged a game where once a candidate sweeps the states voting today, they are in.  This seems screwed up. And because of this years apparent Republican winner (Trumpnado), the screwiness is HUGE.

Trump (that guy, the candidate of all those guys) versus Clinton is predicted.  Fine on my side (hashtag "I'm With Her), but on the Red side?   Oh hell no.

Recent news . . . the KKK is supporting Trump.  And The Trump is quoting an Italian fascist dictator on Twitter.  And he applauds his "poorly educated" supporters. (What does that mean?  Were they educated but educated badly, like by light-weight fake professors in the Gulf Coast State College Languages and Literature Division, or did they drop out of high school and buy degrees from Trump University?)

It is all one big blur.

Truly, I am concerned.  I would like to have a Republican option.  Someone who does not quote fascist dictators or enjoy support from mental defectives.

On a night like this, we should simply watch it happen.  Prepare our best horrified expression and log on to Twitter.

We will live through this, as we have lived through other Ides-of-March-like events.

Be good.  Be terrific.  Be NOT afraid.

Cheers!
Time to pour those cocktails and follow the news :)

XO

La Joyce

NFL playoffs + blizzard!

Hi you!



If you don't follow pro-football, yesterday's Patriot's loss to the stinky old Denver Broncos was . . . ikky.

I am using dumb diction on purpose.  Stinky and ikky apply to a sport's drama. I  cannot weep and wail and drop "tragic" and "heartbreaking" word bombs considering this weekend's stormy effects.

Even north Florida felt a chill.

However, storms, playoff losses and other stinky ikky things remind me to (as Einstein advises) KEEP MOVING!

Spring will come, literally and metaphorically.

That is all I have to say today :)
XO

Status - Flex!

2016 speeding on; I type from a now cold Panama City Beach locale and wonder why the flexible -- never static -- nature of life disrupts us (or at least me)?

After another phone call to my ISP (internet service provider, darling) to revive my connection, I felt irritated.  But why?  Broken connections, broken perfection, broken relationships, broken hearts, broken treaties, broken everything are the stuff of life.  Reality.  Just like yesterday's news.  David Bowie died, our Ziggy Stardust:



He didn't slow down, wondering about disconnections, broken things. Bowie created change and disruption artistically.  Creation, the upside of status flex, the impermanence of "life".  I want that, to not be bothered by the downside of status flex, the disconnections, broken thing-y-ness of existence.   To achieve this state, I could seek training from a Zen master.  Or I could listen to my inner Ziggy Stardust and create.  In my case, creation is just living in the oddest of circumstances, dancing with status flex.

So, my current 2016 encounters with disruptive broken thing-y-ness follows:

1.  As noted above, David Bowie died.  I hate losing these people; unknown but known, their songs/images/creations stuck in my head.
2.  Gato (my fabulous outdoor cat) is injured.  Limping on three legs, he carries on.  That takes guts.
3.  Also noted above, continually snapping internet connections.
4.  Cold weather.  I know, I am not in the tropics anymore.  I cannot magically manifest a winter-free Panama City Beach.  Weather happens.
5.  My perfect body-health is marred by a perplexing sinus infection.  What the hell is that? Nose blowing is the most unattractive action ever.

But really.  Why should the downsides of status flex bother me?  The upsides are too delicious.  My current 2016 encounters with disruptive good stuff follows:

1.  The wild, wintry Gulf of Mexico is as gorgeous as its summer self.
2.  Time off from cervezas, I switch to rum cocktails! These delights make cold evening news-viewing interesting.
3.  RETAIL is fun!  The anonymous famous department store is a pure-work scene; no bullshit follows me home; no tedious, tragic, uptight co-workers wreck my day.  I just sell, stock, organize, clean, and interact freely with the public.  This is unexpectedly, disruptively neato.
4.  Electric room heaters now replace my old cash-burning central heat! (Total truth? I am not always bubbly  happy about my pioneer lifestyle.  Watch me whine today as I wash my hair while NOT being wrapped in 360 degree hot air.  Spoiled, spoiled, spoiled.)
5.  Weekend working hours interfere with my NFL playoff viewing time, but this pushes me a bit closer to purchasing a phone/device that will keep me connected everywhere.  Check me out in those 21st century Google glasses!

Have a disruptively lovely day and night.

Embrace with me this life of status flex.

XO

Unchained Me