The Dog In The Wig

Dear Suckers for Sob Stories,


This afternoon you're in luck.


It's about time for some motivation posting, considering the last couple—although illuminating important issues, providing emotional release etc.— have been incredible downers. I don't try to be a party pooper, really, just sometimes I have random bouts of profound reflexion and thus feel an unconditional need to share them with the general public. 


Anyways back to why you're lucky!  When you imagine "Sob Stories" you probably have a mental picture of that scene from the Notebook where that really sweet, sensitive, completely misunderstood guy kisses What's-Her-Face and they are drenched in rain which is a metaphor for their drowning in emotions, but really a storm of emotions, and you are crying because it's so beautiful and for some reason her hair is perfect and you kinda want to kick What's-Her-Face in the face because of that, especially because your face is blotchy but also because she's kinda stupid for taking him for granted, then again it might be  because you sort of are in love with the soaking What's-His-Name.... you get where I'm going with this?

When I think Sob Story though, I imagine crying from laughter. You know that gut busting, red faced, wheezing from lack of air laughter? Yeah, that's what's about to go down so mentally prepare yourself to die from laughter. 

Look at this Panda! He is having a bad day. Next time you're having a bad day visualize this incredibly sad Mr. Panda, simply attempting to slide, then BAM! Sad day for him, laughter for us. 

 See this person helplessly floundering in the deep snow? Notice that her leg is still resting on the fence, while her arms are flailing. However, what truly marks this picture is the fact that the photographer is leaning over the fence to capture the moment, not to assist thevictim.  

AHAHAHAHA! You know who this dog looks like? A George Harrison from the Beatles. Or perhaps a news reporter, or a pilot from the 70s... oh the possibilities are endless. However, this picture will forever be hilarious, no matter the era. Oh Dog In The Wig, you have brought me endless happiness.
"Poor hopeless sucker struggling in the snow, say cheese!"   

We can only imagine what must have taken place once she was liberated from the frozen sand trap. Heh he.                                                                                                

"Happiness hit her like train on a track....
        Oh the Dog Days are over...."


Love arctic hipster
       

Because Shit is Empowering

Warning: This post contains profanities (used with creative license of course), for effect and are not intended to offend. 

Dear Exhausted, Fed-Up, Tired, Internet Junkie,


Do you ever get to that point when you're so utterly overwhelmed by emotions, whether it's anger or compassion or grief, that you no longer feel the ability to voice them?


I'm taking part in this year's V-Day North production of the Vagina Monologues and seem to be experiencing a hell of a lot of those types of moments. The subject matter right off the bat hits heart: The production is aimed at breaking the silence surrounding rape, battery and violence against women. Every monologue illuminates an injustice and a struggle, great or small, that affects a multitude of people, not just women. One in particular that comes to mind involves a brother trying to protect his sister from dishonoring her family (ie: sleeping with her lover before marriage), providing a social commentary on the honor killings that frequently take place in Eastern countries such as India. The murders are an attempt to eliminate the "shame" that an unchaste daughter would bring upon her family name, but most cases involve rape victims. In Canada, we've seen cases such as the Shafia family come to justice, but this is not the case in the rest of the world.


It is difficult to process one monologue by itself—the pain, the triumph, the social implications—but listening to 18 others can break your heart. However, the heaviness of the context is contrasted by the liveliness of the cast. To be honest I was completely caught off guard when the cast began talking about how vaginas are actually shaped like Penne and vulvas were shaped like shell pasta (while eating shell pasta). Not that I come from a conservative home, but conversations about gentitels don't generally happen on a regular basis. And then the SWEARING. It's funny though,  I felt so ashamed and uncomfortable, as though I had done something wrong even though I was not the one who was yelling "fuck" or "Clitoris". 


Then I let go. I stopped associating the words with negative feelings, with negative meanings. Why not be proud? Why let words reduce me, belittle me, own me? I'm a writer after all and should know the power associated with words. 


This afternoon I came home, feeling deeply saddened after rehearsal.


So I swore and I swore and I swore and I swore.

arctic hipster