First off, thanks to everybody for their concern about my Wayward Eldest Daughter issue. I kind of feel bad about plastering her mug all over internet, but she and the Skeptical Youngest are rather used to it by now. Kat knows I show off her picture to show how sweet she looks, so that you all can be doubly shocked by how very BAD she can be.
In answer to one of the questions in comments about bi-polar–actually she has been diagnosed. She just won’t stay in any one place long enough to follow through with either talk treatment or meds. That’s one of those things where she has a compliance problem.
On to other things–World of Warcraft is kicking my ass right now, y’all. I’m about to descend into mild geekiness, so if your eyes glaze over at the mention of games, you can skip this part. And if you’re a level 70 paladin with a zillion gold pieces and a hippogryph mount, bear with me here a minute.
I am a level 12 night elf. I am so low-level that killing crabs sometimes backfires on me. So I’m stuck in this ravine, dead, with bloodfeather harpies surrounding me, and every time I resurrect my body they attack me and kill me again, before I can use my hearthstone or teleport or even shadowmeld. And the spirit healer won’t talk to me.
Please, tell me it’s going to eventually make more sense. Please tell me that when I’m running around with a level 20 or more I’ll look back fondly on the days when death came sometimes every 5 minutes. Otherwise I’m gonna hurl this freaking laptop at the wall.
And with that, a link to a great post by Daisy about a subject dear to my heart: Where are all the old woman bloggers?
After turning 50 in September, I became somewhat obsessed with the age of bloggers. I discovered I could find a lot of male bloggers in the 50-and-older category. But where are the women?
I know, there are a few. And I am not talking about Arianna Huffington, who is 57 and a billionaire (and therefore looks 25), but about us ordinary bloggers, such as Raven, Jackie, Risa, JJ, Marion, Maitri and Shadocat. I try to find them and link them on my blog… they are like precious jewels.
I have wondered if the hyperventilating over WOMEN’S AGE might be the cause of this phenomenon; we might call it The Botox Effect. We cover up the “lines” in our writing, as we try to cover the lines in our face. We minimize that which makes us seem old. If there is something new we don’t understand, such as contemporary slang, we don’t dare ask for clarification and thereby give ourselves away. Perhaps, then, there are more of us than I realize? Many women pointedly do not provide their ages on their blogs, while men usually do; a silly, sexist and archaic cultural habit.
At times when I write about nostalgia, as I enjoy doing, I get replies from isolated people (who will not comment publicly, it is worth noting) thanking me for publicly remembering something that they agree needs recounting. But they say it in hushed, secretive emails, as if I have said something dirty out loud. THE PAST IS OLD, and therefore, not a good thing. NEW is good, new is revolutionary, new is a product that has been improved, reformulated, with all kinds of good shit added to it to make it a rockem-sockem, highly-evolved and BETTER thing… better car, better house, better suburb, better dishwashing liquid.
crossposted at superbabymama