Height

I've read over and over again that tall people have an advantage on short people, not just physically, but in relationship and monitarily as well.

In articles such as the following:

http://tinyurl.com/gx8sj

They speak of how tall people earn more money, are more likely to get married and have children and overall more successful. But all the articles I've found, not just this one, only talk about the height advantage of men. Perhaps taller men do earn more money. Why? Does society trust a taller man more then his shorter colleague? Is he the alpha-male in the room due to his genetics alone? There have been studies that show taller men make more money per inch, on average. But I don't think it's necessarily because he is being paid for his height, even subconsciously. It's hard to deny that a tall person demands attention and commands a presence when they walk into the room. It's possible that, due to the effect of being looked at as a leader, they may take on the role and act like a leader. But this does not necessarily apply to women.

When women are expected to be petite and feminime, standing shoulder to shoulder with men can damage the chances of them thinking of you as a woman. Personally, I've found that being taller then the men I date has weeded out the insecure men, because it takes confidence to reach up and put your arm around your amazonian girlfriend. But I know many tall women who have preferences for men taller then themselves and, whatever their reasons for those preferences, they are in for a long search.


In Canada the average height for women is 5'3. I am 5'9, which is not extraordinarily tall, though obviously above-average. I have noticed I have a higher confidence then most women but I had never considered if this was an effect of being tall. I had assumed that having a parent who was proud of me and was free with compliments was the root. Do people have more success because they're confident? Or are they confident because they have more success?

I was reading another article, found here: http://www.slate.com/id/2245115/ The article itself, as well as many of the comments, mention the societal advantage of being tall, while actual tall people in the comment section mentioned the disadvantages.

I am proud of my height. It's a lovely genetic present passed down from my 5'10 mother and my 6'1 father. But I do think that some people assume being tall is merely a gift and that the downside doesn't exist.

Let me tell you, as a tall woman, it exists. My height is more in my torso, then my legs. But clothing orientated towards my height is only ever long in the legs while shirts are always that inch or 2 too short. Infact, it is not uncommon for me to buy a dress and wear it as a shirt instead. Before it was trendy, 8 years ago I was layering my cardigans and hoodies with extra long tank tops, not because I was ahead of the times, but because it was necessary with them being too short for my frame. Speaking of clothes, I don't suggest being a tall child either. Nothing says young and fun like dressing in the adult sections when you're 10 years old and really just want to wear a Sailormoon t-shirt.

I recall my sister and I being moved from the elementry lunch room to the jr high/high school lunch room in one school because our knees wouldn't go under the table like all the other grade 2 students. So, instead we were thrown in with kids our same height but twice our age.

As an avid Halloween lover, I was dismayed to find that by grade 4 I was being refused candy, told I was too old or straight out told I should be "ashamed" for trick-or-treating at my age, because they assumed I was a high school student. I stopped the next year, while my friends continued on trick-or-treating through out elementary school, because I was afraid of being denounced with accusations of being older then I said.

This isn't a contest between whether shorter people or taller people have it harder. I've seen the assumptions made of shorter people. I've known teachers who were mistaken and treated like students, due to their height or the lack there of. I've probably blocked my fair share of shorter people in movie theatres or concerts, unknowingly. I've gone shopping with my shorter friends and seen them get frustrated with sleeves that go well past their hands and pants that need to be hemmed or face being dragged through the mud.

Why I wrote this is to remind people that being tall has it's own disadvantages. Public transportation will never be comfortable. There will never be enough leg room, shoulder room and the head rest will always jut into the back of your neck. Beds will always be a little bit too short. Arm rests are not actually arm rests when your arm is 3 inches above them.

The world is built for average people and I am too wide and too tall to fit. Maybe I enjoy being able to grab items from the top shelf and to look down on people instead of up to them. Maybe the fact that I hold my head a little higher, because it is a little higher, lead to a higher self esteem. But I resent the idea that I won the genetic lottery by being taller and therefore have more societal advantages. Even basketball players need to practice and understand the sport, to succeed at it. Success is not determined by height but instead the combination of will, determination and honed talent. To say otherwise is to discount a person's abilities merely for their genetic presets.

Burn and Fade Away

I throw rocks and I cast stones
And I am and will always be alone
I dare, I dared, it's done
You know I'm not the only one.

Let me fade and disappear
Let me be forgot
Give me the freedom of memory
Of sweet, cloudy eyed
running colours,
and lights that stretch into the distance.
Sweet dissapation, dispersion and disintegration
I want to break into a million peices
I want to show you the meaning of resistance

Blessed ignorance.
This house of mourning
is full of knowing
Is full of all the seeds
you've been sowing
And I burn and I destroy crops
And I don't apologize for your loss
I don't care except too much
But I can't bear to accept your clutch

Resources

I've been ill the last few days with some sort of demon-love child of a cold and flu mixed together. As sexy as my voice is when I am sick, the coughing is definitely getting old and I've missed two out of the last three days of work. Lovely. Thank god for salary and sick days.

But this morning I was feeling well enough to go to work so, after pressing snooze 5 times (this is not an exaggeration) I finally got up and decided to have a shower.

I totally needed it too. Not to gross out any of my invisible readers, but despite having numerous showers (steam makes my throat feel better) my hair was pretty greasy and weird this morning. Very hobo-chic. A fever and humidifier in the bedroom added to that look, creating a very mangy wet dog kind of look.

I had decided that, despite my sickness, I needed to go into work at least looking somewhat healthy. You can imagine my surprise when I go to turn the tap and....no water comes out. Well, let me correct that. A tiny baby trickle of water came out with a pathetic spurt and sigh and then quickly disappeared down the drain. I tried the sink and only cold water would come out. I found out later they were repairing an unexpected leak on another floor in my apartment building.

I looked in the mirror and contemplated my options. My hair was beyond help. I couldn't hide the mess even with a pony tail, bobby pins and hairspray. It was unruly, half kinky, half straight, frazzled ends from showering and not styling and greasy roots.

So, I did what any sane person would do. I found my largest microwaveable container, filled it up with water and nuked it. I ended up washing my hair bent over the side of the bathtub. Not the classiest way to start my morning but it worked. Of course, I was running back and forth between the kitchen and the bathroom in a towel with suds in my hair, dripping a path between the two. I couldn't settle for just shampooing my hair, I did the extra work to condition it as well. I figured if I was going to go to all this trouble, might as take that last extra step into being totally absurd.

Felt like a very Bridget Jones thing to do, to be honest. Very slap-stick morning. Thankfully, despite being ill, I was in a good enough mood to appreciate the humor of the situation.

This blog hasn't become a hair blog, in case you are wondering. The last two entries just happen to be about it. Purely coincidental.

Big Love, Big Hair, Big Opinions

One day I will write a post in regards to my opinions on Polyamorous relationships, marriage and all that juicy stuff.

If you watch HBO's "Big Love", which explores polygamous family life and religion, you're probably more then familiar with the style of dress and hair.

If not, here is a little break down of it for you:

Big Pompadour style hair, modest clothing in light colours and little to no make up.

She's one bad mama-jama.

Well, I was bored tonight (Dave is working nights) and instead of doing something productive, such as laundry or dishes, I decided to have a vanity fest and did my hair and took pictures.

Huzzah for me fixing my camera! Now you all must suffer!

Not displayed - strict fundamentalist ideals and sister wives

Does it bode poorly for me that the most modest shirt I could find (which happens to work exceedingly well for this) is from a costume? Is it also a bad sign that I like the look?

Either way, I won't be rocking this exact look in the near future. Unless I plan a trip to Utah and want to blend in on the compound. I think my filthy mouth would get kicked out quickly though.

si vis amari ama

I don't know how to tell you this
so I guess I won't
I am sick to death with it
This confession...not mine to reveal
But to your conscience I appeal
Be a good girl, for once in your life
Don't give into weakness
See the love instead of the strife


My throat aches to say what it is
It is not my burden or my guilt to carry
Regardless, I feel it heavy
upon my shoulders
My feet sink deeper into the mud
My eyes dull with the thought

I judge, I am guilty of that
For all my morals and rants
For all my beliefs and ideals
I judge and will not stop
I am not your jury
and yet I've made the call
Lately, I've been thinking
I've made my decision and
Your reputation is sinking
Who will hang you when the day comes?
I already know the answer
You don't see it but
your hand is on the lever

Tolerance: Connotation and Denotation

The word tolerance has a beautiful message that great thinkers have written about and lived their life in accordance with such as Gandhi and Voltaire. The idea of respecting others and their beliefs while being secure that they will do the same with regard to ourselves and our beliefs is the very basis of The Golden Rule, an ethical idea that one has the right to be treated fairly and has the responsibility to ensure justice for others. And yet, the word tolerance has developed a connotation beyond this message that is much more negative in tone and practice. Does the connotation, in turn, effect our adherence to the denotation of tolerance?

As defined, tolerance is the ability to recognize and respect the beliefs and practices of others. This comes into effect in all facets of life. Law makers must decide what is legal and what is illegal. What can we, as a society, tolerate? Do we permit murder? Do we bear with mayhem? At what point do we draw the line and declare what is tolerable and what isn't? We vote or the courts come to law-altering decisions on such topics as abortion and gay marriage. Obviously our acceptance has limits, not only our individual acceptance but our communal ability to condone certain behaviors. We must define as a whole what is right and wrong absolutely and then come to terms with what is left in between the two (which is the majority of it). And how do those who have decided to live a tolerant lifestyle react to those who have decided otherwise? John Rawls, an American philosopher, argued that in order to remain true to the message of tolerance, one must tolerate the intolerant. Those who refuse to accept or understand others and their views must themselves be accepted and understood in order to maintain the creed of embracing those who are different from ourselves. There is no room for hypocrisy and special pleading in that society.


But the term seems to have gathered a more implied definition that sometimes overpowers it's actual definition. The underlying tone behind tolerance implies dealing with a trait one doesn't necessarily condone. In some ways, even being permissive of actions one only expresses patience for and lacks understanding or acceptance of. If asked to adjust to something, one might say, "I can tolerate it." and the tone implied leads us to believe that, although this person is condescending to be lenient, that they are not enthused with the idea or the situation. They are not celebrating or encouraging it but merely tolerating the situation. Therein lies the peril of connotation. When referring to campaigns for cultural tolerance, I find I cringe at the word usage. I dislike the possible interpretation that tolerating is simply enduring something that is not necessarily wanted.

"It is the duty of every cultured man or woman to read sympathetically the scriptures of the world. If we are to respect others' religions as we would have them respect our own, a friendly study of the world's religions is a sacred duty." Mohandas Gandhi

Tolerating others religion, culture, beliefs or just their whole being is not simply about coping with their existence. It means to embrace, to accept willingly and to celebrate. One does not need to fully understand or comprehend another's beliefs to be supportive but the act of trying is far more encouraging than simply being permissive to their right to believe what they do. After looking further into the connotation and denotation of tolerance I feel it is better to live a defined life rather then an inferred one.

"The price of the democratic way of life is a growing appreciation of people's differences, not merely as tolerable, but as the essence of a rich and rewarding human experience." Jerome Nathanson

Something out of nothing

It has been a tight couple of weeks around the Lambert/Johnson household. Dave had all of December off and we are saving for a move in March, which has lead to some thrifty living.

But I find that although our disposable income has declined as an affect of having a month off and cutting back on entertainment and fun in order to save, our quality of life has suffered little.

I have to admit that Dave and I, with our hedonistic nature, are very much use to spending money whenever and however we want. We treat ourselves all the time. For us this means going out to movies, eating whatever we are craving (though, with me eating healthier the last 2 months, it's more eating whatever I am craving within the constraints of my lifestyle), going to concerts, going out for dinner, taking cabs everywhere, going shopping, buying for each other and our friends. When I write it out, it sounds very materialistic, but I can assure you it is not in that vein. More or less it is simply the D.I.N.K lifestyle (Double Income No Kids) we've become accustomed too. So, not necessarily materialistic so much as free of most financial burdens. Definitely selfish in some ways, as we have no kids or dependants to think of and truly just ourselves.

As Gwen Stefani once sang "Now all those simple things are simply too complicated for my life/How'd I get so faithful to my freedom?/A selfish kind of life"

With our current economical living, we are prone to lament to one another when we feel the pangs of living frugal. I have to admit we'd gotten very use to our financial freedom and, perhaps, even took it for granted.

But I grew up poor. Not the "we were poor and we didn't know it" kind of poor. More like the "we were poor and others didn't know it, but we felt it keenly" kind. Being raised by a single mother, who was in university and not getting any child support, while having three other siblings meant juice boxes, cereal and pudding packs just weren't in the cards. But looking back on this I have to admit I feel proud. We grew up with real food made from real ingredients with real effort. Without knowing it, our mom was raising us in the "slow food" movement.

As I cooked dinner today (my veggies bought from the cheapest produce market in town and making the most out of two chicken breasts for not only dinner but left overs for lunch for Dave and I tomorrow) I told Dave how I was raised to make, to quote my mom, "Something out of nothing." I revealed how we'd have a bare pantry, a bare fridge and mom was broke (rent, school fees, life in general). Somehow, as if conjuring wine from water and gold from coal, she'd figure out a delicious meal. She'd have a big smile on her face as we helped her cook while she'd say proudly to my sister and I how we pulled together a great meal out of nothing.

In those moment, necessity truly was the mother invention.

It's not just in the kitchen these skills she passed onto me come into play. Teaching us how to sew, how to cut hair, how to re-purpose furniture and so many other skills that a lot of my friends simply don't possess. She was not rearing us to be domestic housewives but instead to be capable in all domains. She was teaching us to be resourceful and not take the path of least resistance. I said to Dave this evening, "There are people who, no matter how much money they make, they will always eat Hamburger Helper because it's all they know."

I have fond memories of all the home made halloween costumes, haircuts in the kitchen and long nights sitting on the floor beside the sewing machine as she peiced together a new school wardrobe.

I feel great pride that no matter how much money is in my bank account, my quality of life does not diminish. I feel capable in the world and in my home. I smile and walk proudly with this knowledge. I love to take a no longer used item and turn it into something beautiful. Whenever I sew/reconstruct something I no longer wear or found in a thrift store and make it into something people love I feel the same pride I did when we made a meal out of nothing. I love that I know how to patch a hole in a wall, unclog my food disposal or refinish a desk.

Being poor, being resourceful and being independent, whether by choice or circumstance, gave me the tools to thrive while others only survive.