Confidentially, I rather enjoy stereotypes, in the same way I like those conventional, nondescript wafer-layers of KitKat you can pull apart. Who can resist those vaguely edible, graph-paper structure seams, present, yet void of depth or flavor?
I do not love the harmful, nasty, racist, sexist, any-ist words that make us wince, and yet we find our proverbial nipples hard with fear, and a fit of neurotic giggles coming on, at the very same second. We are like small children thrilled with emitting procreative expletives.
I do enjoy examining the subtle stereotypes which subtly allow for interference with the 'shoddy slum-lord construction' boundaries, of the narrow, fright driven mind.
Preconceived notions, make for a clowns' paradise. Are all blonde's both IQ deficient and actually have a better superficial quality of recreation? Is superficial recreation actually more possible, when you are experiencing consciousness as a nightlight, rather than a floodlight?
I do not actually mind those with 'too much stone' in their personality. Black and white polarities, create an exquisite simplicity in ones existence... It is either... Or...There is a blunt blade of honesty to adhering to a code verbatim, and yet, extreme truth in and of itself, is a lie. There are always shadows, there are gradients, degrees of depth in all things. Also, norms are subjective to begin with. There is always interpretation through ones lens of experience.
Also, side note to those judge, jury and executioner types, no matter what your official policy on religious affiliation is, if you have prejudices, then you don't truly believe in an infinite God driven, luminescent, energy imbued universe. Ultimately, ones soul is a flame, rising upwards from within the husk of the body from the day we are born.
Me, is such a mortal word.
We are all of the same substance, a smoldering spark existence, eked out within this gorgeous, gargantuan cosmos.
I understand the tendency to pigeonhole people we meet into rigid categories. I mean, what are the chances, the guy in the Yankees tee, and matching cap does not like baseball? We subconsciously collect information, in an effort as social beings, to relate to those we meet. As expected, profiling individual ethnicities or cultures does reveal certain traits or trends.
Hipsters for example, are collective fashion victims, and should be shown sympathy, right up until they lecture you on their superior good taste. Then perhaps, a kick in the shins is more in order.
Myths and fairy tales of any given region could often serve as a guidebook to mans' beliefs and values. One collective truth is, there is tremendous darkness in our pages. A struggle between good and evil, handed down through generations. Shadows are embedded in every fairy tale, no matter the culture.
What I love most about stereotypes is shedding them at will, like a white cat sitting smack in the middle of a freshly dry cleaned black coat, willing himself to exude puffs of hair, just because he feels like it.
Let's try on some stereotypes that have been thrown at me lately.
Women are emotional.
Try me bitch!
So, personally, it takes a long time to get me there, but when I do... It is true. I think anyone with non-sociopathic tendencies is prone to moody bitch moments, entire 'emo' episodes and stressed out freak-the-fuck-out sessions.
Hell, if you really give a shit about something or someone, there will be pain, there will be joy, and passion and also sadness and disappointment, and well, tears, sometimes they make sense, sometimes they don't.
Some of my friends though, are supreme ice queens, so it is not a woman thing, it is depth thing... its called giving a shit.
On the flipside, a little bit of balance is in order on the emotional outbursts allowed scale.
My rough estimate is, if you appear sort of sane 80 percent of the time, you are just fine.
Lesbians have no fashion sense.
Gay men, on the other hand are fashionista's...
I think this lesbian notion might have been gleaned from those old college textbook pictures taken in the 70's and 80's of those no nonsense brave and butch freedom fighters, in their trucker jeans and golf shirts, tucked in and belted, below the belly, and worn with knee socks and sandals. Lovely!
In my recent experience, hanging out with my 'birds of a feather',I see a bit of everything. There are the J Crew lesbians in their knit sweaters and ironed slacks. I see the sportsbian crowd in their Adidas jumpsuits and tank tops. I see the obviously 'expensive to maintain' high fashion women with their Italian knits and immaculately faded jeans. I see the rocker chicks who are often also the biker chicks, wearing variations of black jeans and band tee shirts. Then, of course I see the comfortable cargo shorts and tee shirt crowd, who just don't really think about what they wear much at all.
As for me, I cut all the sleeves off my tee shirts, have tattoo's, a nose ring, a prodigious flannel collection, and five pairs of Combat boots. If I do fit a stereotype, it is inadvertent.
I do have gorgeous dresses. I just have to sit delicately in them, ankles crossed. I also have to wear my matching sexy-ass heels with them. Why this diabolical looking footwear is as commonly worn as they are, is beyond me. The foot is at such an odd, unnatural angle.
Still, on occasion, I strap on those fuckers, and ignore the laughter ringing in my ears from anyone in the general vicinity, witnessing the odd sight of me in a dress and wearing some five inch prongs. Alas, me teetering around in those heels, is akin to a rollerblader with Parkinsons.
Good God. The things women do for the sake of beauty. I have no issue with makeup, with deodorant or general, and regular body grooming. What I do have a problem with, is nails, so long and well manicured, a woman can barely pick anything up. I object to hair that is never allowed to get soaked in the rain. Screw frizzies, rain is wonderful. I object to super tight clothing (or the useful garments which allow us to fit into said garments in the first place like control top tights or spanx) so constricting, you run home at the end of an evening, strip it all off, and realize you have not fully breathed all night.
I prefer my beauty, expressed in my strength, my comfort, my softness, my endurance and my knowledge,. It is my mind that says, I do not want to be hobbled by my clothing for some ridiculous cultural norm idea of beauty. I can, but I do not see the point, except leather pants. Those, I think are wicked, and I want a pair.
Cotton, is sexy. Boots, well worn, hot as hell... Especially if they show the battle scars of work, well done, and an equal measure of adventure. Gay couture? it depends whom you ask.
I do think most gay boys are better dressed then average. I think perhaps they adore the rituals and the color of fashion, they have traditionally been told is not theirs to have. So now, it is extra Godamn delicious to have it all.
There are other odd stereotypes, or strange truths that require further research.
I was told the other day by a girl who mysteriously stated, "If you date a masseuse, chances are you are not going to get a massage very often."
You tell me...
