Showing posts with label ageism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ageism. Show all posts

Sunday, February 18, 2024

Grodes

 

Image by Else Siegel from Pixabay

Fair warning that the following post is chock-a-block with profanity.
If you're sensitive about that sort of thing, don't read it.



What if we replace
the word prejudice with Grodes--
could we see the truth?

I would like to suggest
we get rid of the Grodes,
rather than eradicate
those who are different,
either by physical means
or by enforced compliance.

I'm no fool, though.
I'm aware that some asshole would come along,
suggesting that the Grodes were the people
who didn't comply
rather than the prejudices
such people face.

They would take my suggestion
that we get rid of the Grodes.
They'd corrupt and pervert it
until it was unrecognizable.

In the end, I'd be blamed
While some motherfucker
who resembled donald tRump
or his idol Vladimir Putin
or some other corrupt dictator
with a cult of personality
would come along
and take all the credit
for getting rid of the Grodes.

Not once acknowledging
that I meant something entirely different. 

How many times, I wonder,
has history laid the blame on some nothing nobody
just trying to make things right,
while the pigs and rat bastards
party in the big house
or the White House,

making a mockery
of anyone who doesn't toe the party line.

I urge the pretty people
to pay close attention
to my cautionary tale.

Anyone can be a Grode
if they step out of line.
It isn't just us ugly fuckers
who wind up
on society's reject pile.

~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~

Image by Emmie_Norfolk from Pixabay



Ornery Owl's Post-Post Thoughts

The witch at the beginning of the post has a very similar appearance to yours truly, although I stopped dyeing my prematurely graying hair blonde twenty years ago. My hair is thick and resistant to most color formulas, so I have to bleach it first. That process made it brittle. It was coming out in clumps, so one day I said “fuck it.” That moment was freeing.

I will never understand why society treats people who aren’t conventionally attractive as if we’ve committed some sort of crime that we need to be punished for. Couldn’t you just leave us alone?



Fat.
Old.
Ugly.
So what?
No, you don't have permission to use my photo to ridicule me. Go fuck yourself.



Ornery Owl has a new poetry volume! It's free to borrow on Kindle Unlimited or just $1.99 to own.

Support weirdness! Buy Ornery!



Free use image by Gordon Johnson on Pixabay

Legal Eagle's Corner



 BY: credit must be given to the creator.
 NC: Only noncommercial uses of the work are permitted.
 SA: Adaptations must be shared under the same terms.

If you have legitimate reason for wanting to use all or part of this work in a for-profit project, drop your email in the comments and I'll contact you. 



Friday, October 20, 2023

Driving In Fog


Base image by Katie Mourn on Unsplash


driving into fog
claustrophobic, frightening
life's that way sometimes

notes


Write a poem about a time you’ve been lost or felt lost.

I interpreted the prompt more literally. I created a Haiga about fog and compared it to life.

I hate driving in fog. It terrifies me. I've noped out of driving in fog more than once.

I don't understand the love some poets have for spoken word prompts. There is a 99.9% likelihood that I won't do them. I think I have done exactly one spoken word poem on this blog in the ten years since I started it, and that one was at my own behest. If other people suggest such a thing, I'll dig in my heels. I really don't like the sound of my own voice.

I had a bad time with my vocal cord dysfunction last night. Most of the time the exercises to stop the laryngospasms work. Sometimes they don't. Last night was one of those nights. It was one of the rare occasions when I thought about taking the lone Valium I have left over from my dental appointment. I didn't do it, though.

I also wonder why society thinks anyone over the age of fifty should just give up on life if they haven't yet achieved what society would deem "success." What the hell are we supposed to do, curl up in front of the TV and watch game shows, infotainment, and soap operas till we croak? I'd rather keep writing even if everyone else thinks my stories are shit.

A favorite quote:

I'd rather fail with my own shit than succeed with someone else's. --Eddie Van Halen

Oh yeah, I added text and special effects to the base image using Pixlr. You're welcome to share the resulting Haiga, but please credit Cara Hartley/Ornery Owl if you do.

~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~


As an owlet, Ornery Owl didn't fear no steenkin' fog.
Then again, the contrary little cuss never had to drive in the soup.



Sunday, April 16, 2023

Poetry Prompts and Inspiration Day 16 April PAD Challenge and NaPoWriMo 2023

 

Image by Sarah Richter from Pixabay

A good whatever time of day it is for you, Poetry People. It has certainly been volatile in this little space during the past few sessions. You never know exactly what you're going to get around here. Will it be the sage wisdom of Ornery Owl? Will it be the feminist outrage of Sly Fawkes? Or will it perhaps be something like the above?


The Writers Digest prompt for today asks participants to write a Blank of the Blank poem.


The NaPoWriMo prompt asks participants to use their poems to describe what something isn't.

To make a long story short, my poem is called Witch of the Prairie, and it contains lines such as "I am not your pet" and "I will never be your girl." So, yeah, Sly snuck in there again. Sly will never rest as long as society continues giving her so much material to work with. 

Sometimes I think I'm too old to still be fighting this shit. By "this shit," I of course mean misogyny. Couldn't I just leave that battle up to younger warriors who aren't as tired as I am?

The answer is no, I cannot.

Older women are constantly informed that we're useless. We're out of touch with the times. We have nothing relevant to say. Certainly, we have no sex appeal.

I call bullshit on that crap. Older women have wisdom and experience, and we don't put up with anyone's shit. If someone tries to shame me for my lack of sex appeal, I'll laugh. I don't give a damn about sex. I've been done with that nonsense for years. Ditto caring about being perceived as attractive. 

I have more important things to concern myself with, such as learning how to turn misogynists into toads. Toads are better than mansplainers any day. 

~The Wicked Witch Has Spoken~

Image by Square Frog from Pixabay



Here is what I was listening to while creating this wicked post.

Tuesday, April 11, 2023

Poetry Prompts and Inspiration Day 11 April PAD Challenge and NaPoWriMo 2023

 

Image by Moondance from Pixabay

Good day, afternoon, evening, or whatever it is wherever you are. Today's poetry prompt from NaPoWriMo asks participants to write a poem that takes as its starting point something overheard that made you laugh, or something someone told you once that struck you as funny.


Well, you know me. I don't always follow instructions, and, after seeing today's April PAD Challenge Twofer Tuesday prompt, I turned the humorous portion of the prompt upside down.


Today's prompt asks participants to write a form or anti-form poem, so I kind of did both. I went to the following list of poetry forms:


I selected the Kimo, which is an Israeli three-line poetic form.


The lines need not rhyme. The syllable structure is 10-7-6.

I wrote a Haibun sort of thing with 100 words of prose followed by a Kimo.

Although I cannot share my Haibun here and now as I will be submitting it for consideration in the forthcoming Soul Ink anthology from Dragon Soul Press, I will tell you a little bit about it.

I wrote the Kimo first but placed it after the prose portion. Prose followed by a three-line poem is standard Haibun form. Using a Kimo rather than a Haiku or Senryu is non-standard. 

The Kimo addressed a lover leaving and their partner deeming their departure a relief.

I found inspiration for the prose portion of the poem from this prompt:


The prompt contains poetry about flowers. I begin my Haibun by discussing the fact that the area where I live is very dry, so one does not see many flowers. I transition into a problem that I did not expect to encounter in such a small town. I use an upright walker to help support my lower back if I wish to walk more than about a quarter mile. The walker helps me to be able to cover longer distances without pain because it helps my spine stay aligned.

I've really never understood why people make such a big fuss about this device. People try to help me get it down my porch steps. One day, I would like to replace these steps with a ramp, but currently, there are steps. I always decline the offer, telling them that if I can't manage it myself, I shouldn't be doing it. 

My walker has a seat, and one time I was sitting in an abandoned parking lot on the edge of town, looking at the sky and contemplating making lasagna for dinner. This well-meaning woman drove up asking in a very concerned voice if I was all right. I was a bit taken aback as I wasn't even having particularly deep thoughts, but I wasn't terribly offended about the incident as I am acquainted with this lady and she tends to fuss over people. I didn't think much more about it and made my way back through town, which is when things got really ridiculous.

I've told this story before, but it's been a while. This fellow approached me to give me a pep talk and tell me how if I just prayed hard enough, God would heal me of my ailment. I said I didn't have any ailment, I had just messed up my back working physically demanding jobs for decades and the walker allowed me to be able to walk more than short distances without my back hurting. 

This man then proceeded to compliment me on my hair, which I had made the mistake of wearing down. He said, "you have beautiful hair. If we could just get your body to match your hair, you'd be a real doll."

I couldn't hide my outrage over this stupefyingly inappropriate statement. I felt like saying, "and if you'd shut your mouth, people might mistake you for handsome." However, I opted to keep the snark in check. I said, "I don't care what I look like." He looked at me as if I'd just said, "the moon is made of stroopwafels," and said, "why not? We do!" 

I was wondering who this "we" he was referring to was, but opted not to pursue the matter. I said I needed to be going. His parting words to me were: "you need to believe in yourself, Honey!"

I'm not sure how I was failing to "believe in myself." I was only trying to take a walk, and other people were believing I wasn't capable of doing that without their unwanted assistance.

As if that wasn't enough, a utility worker who had just come out of the general store asked me if I needed a ride. I tried to make a joke of the matter, stating: "I'm just getting my exercise. If I don't, nobody else will."
My lame attempt at a joke was met with: "okay, but do you need a ride."
I replied, "no, thank you," while trying not to let him see my disgust.

That was October 2020. I have never gone for a walk using my walker again.

I tell this story because I think it's important that able-bodied people realize infantilizing disabled people is discouraging to us. Folks, believe me, I have done some un-fucking-believeably stupid, and I do mean STUPID shit in my time. One of my worst moments was shouting to be heard when a mute man came into the bookstore where I worked looking for a certain book. He gestured at his ears indicating that he wasn't hearing impaired. I felt, and rightfully so, like a complete fucking moron. This happened in the late '80s, and I still cringe whenever I remember it.

Image by MR1313 from Pixabay

Another unforgettable moment of cringe-inducing stupidity was perpetrated by a twit on Twitter fishing for compliments. This darling lady in her early 40s wanted it affirmed that she wasn't "the oldest person on Twitter." No, Babycakes, not by a long shot. I'm 15 - 20 years older than you are, and there are people older than me who use Twatter. Who the fuck cares?

I didn't respond to this tweet, but I did respond to the one she made after several people (mostly men) reassured her that she was still attractive and "loved." Excuse me while I go have a jolly puke.

🤮

Image by Nina Garman from Pixabay

Seriously, if you're ever thinking about doing something like this woman did, just don't. You may be feeling insecure about your attractiveness or whatever. Don't most of us at some point in this image-conscious and youth-oriented society? However, if you refrain from fishing for compliments from strangers on social media, at least your dignity will remain intact.

The tweet I responded to was the one where she said something along the lines of: "hurray for mature Twitter! Let's all throw our canes and walkers in the air in celebration!" Which is surely a completely mature thing to say, don't you think?

At that point, this old owl was done with her jolly puke and was not about to allow this foolishness to continue unreprimanded. What I said was something along the lines of: "not all elderly people use mobility aids and not all people who use mobility aids are elderly. Further, forty is hardly ancient. Stereotypes about age and disability are a bad look."

I think that's about all the damage I can do around this pop stand today.

~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~

Image by Kevin from Pixabay
Ornery Owl really wonders about people sometimes. Like, seriously.

Here is what I was listening to while creating this post.


Monday, November 7, 2022

November PAD Challenge 2022: Day 7: Adapt or Die

 

"Adapt or die, foolish little fool!" the intimidating alien rumbled.

I, however, refused to be shaken, no matter how he grumbled.

"Hah!" I snorted. "For something so impressive in appearance, you certainly lack cleverness.

"Anyone can see that I am far from little.

"My ass is large, and so is my middle."

"Yes, and you've had to find the key to adapting to such undesired conditions, haven't you?" the being inquired pensively. 

"Your luck has not been exactly stellar, wouldn't you agree?

"What you found when you were transported over the rainbow was not what you hoped to see.

"When you shuffled off to the pier to see if your sacred ship had come in,

"Mawkish mediums informed you that your destiny was arriving at the airport too far in the distance for you to find redemption."

"Indeed, and when I asked them to elaborate, they promised to do so for a small fee equal to several of my paychecks," I replied. "I had a suspicion that they might have lied, so I decided I didn't care a shingle for their advice and proceeded to do things my way from that day forward."

"And how is that working out for you?" the alien, who now suspiciously resembled Dr. Phil, pressed.

"Probably better than the flashy fairy tale I once believed was my destiny," I sentimentally surmised, as glimmers of dreams of what might have been glittered in my eyes, overflowing down my face. "I'm pleased that I'm not surrounded by fake people to annoy me, but there have been times in my life when loneliness threatened to destroy me.

"I've discovered first-hand that no one cares how the disabled, elderly, and downtrodden fare.

"If you aren't young and you aren't pretty, nobody wants to see you anywhere.

"The liberal elite as much as the rigid right would prefer that the likes of me die and decrease the surplus population.

"Society cares only about the up-and-coming, not those nearing their destination.

"Age bias is rampant, the outsides given more weight than what lies within.

"If I were at all religious, I'd say it's a goddamn sin.

"Being a caustic agnostic, I'll just say it's a crying shame.

"Every year I hope for improvement, and every year it's always the same."

"Yet still you keep on kicking," the alien said, impressed. "I hope to meet more folk like you in my travels--ugly, angry, disabled, fat old women are the best!"

As the alien took off in his spaceship, I couldn't help but grin.

If we'd care more about what's on the inside, a better world could begin.

~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~


Ornery Owl
Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors


Free use image by Clkr Free Vector Images on Pixabay

Hangry Wyrm sez:
"I really ate this story up. Five out of five stars! Can we have breakfast now?"


Get your groove on with this melodic deep house mix.

Here's the link in case you can't see the player.




Here's another Deep House mix in case you happen to be bogged down with formatting an hour later. Like, you know, not me. I never get bogged down with formatting, or editing, or, you know, anything, because I'm completely perfect and do everything right the first time. First draft? Hah! You mean only draft, Sunshine, because I'm just that good!

I'm off to find someplace to hide my metric butt-ton of bullshit now. Here's the link in case you can't see the player. 


notes and prompts used


The prompt requests:
"For this challenge, let’s go on a wild walk together. Report on what you’ve found and the lessons you’ve learned."

While my piece did not address nature as such, it addresses the sometimes difficult lessons I've learned about myself in my nearly 60 years walking this planet. I honestly don't think I would have survived those "Hollywood dreams" I had in my youth. I'm a sensitive soul, though I seem thick-skinned.


Today's challenge asks participants to create a poem about adaption.


I almost forgot about this prompt. I'll probably play catch-up with it over the next few days. Today's suggestion is:

"Another form of being has just communicated something to you...Write down 5-10 words, to fix the moment forever in your mind then use those words to write about something else."

This prompt gave me the idea of the alien communicating with me.


Word List

key

rainbow

distant/distance

shuffle

transport/ed

shingle

redemption

pier

mediums

sacred

elaborate

suspicion

also sharing with



Thursday, October 3, 2019

OctPoWriMo 2019: Day 3: Aunt Cie's Soapbox: Leave My Old Womb Alone (Choka)

Image by Solarus from Pixabay

lay off my old womb
I am not a candidate
for new motherhood
I can no longer achieve
reproduction, no
but it would not bring me joy
to endure the pain
of removing my old womb
it is my life choice
to keep my organs intact
despite a slightly
elevated chance that I
develop cancer
somewhere well on down the line
any womb is not
only worth saving when it
is available
to serve as incubator



~Cie~


Note:
The poem references the incidents of 2018 when my life continued revolving around my uterus despite the fact that the painful periods I had endured for 40 years had come to an end. In April of 2017, and again in April of 2018, I experienced post-menopausal bleeding, and in June of 2018, I underwent a D&C to determine the nature of the endometrial cells.
Had the cells been abnormal or the endometrial hyperplasia complex, this would have elevated my risk of future endometrial cancer by 36%, in which case I would have opted for a hysterectomy.
My cells were normal and it was simple hyperplasia. This only increases the risk of endometrial cancer by 1.6%. In the end, I felt that the risks posed by undergoing a hysterectomy, which is a major surgery no matter how casual a spin doctors try to put on it, were greater than opting for a wait and see approach. 
Post-menopausal endometrial hyperplasia can occur for a variety of reasons. It is more common in Caucasian women, in women over fifty, in women with a larger body type, and in diabetic women. I am a large Caucasian woman over fifty with a large body type who has diabetes. As it turned out, I also had a number of small fibroids in my uterus which were probably irritating the endometrium and causing it to overgrow.
My primary care physician wanted me to have a hysterectomy.
My OB/GYN wanted me to have a hysterectomy.
The gynecologic oncologist whom I consulted wanted me to have a hysterectomy.
This despite the fact that all of them quoted a very low increased likelihood of the type of hyperplasia I was experiencing ever developing into cancer.
I had one of those obnoxious trans-vaginal ultrasounds in February of this year which showed that the endometrial lining was still slightly thicker than normal but had greatly reduced in size and was within the perimeters of acceptable. I did not experience bleeding in April of this year. My OB/GYN wanted to do another D&C, but I said no. There was no presenting reason to undergo a procedure that leaves me feeling like someone has been up in my business with a cheese grater.
I consulted with a radiologist who specializes in a procedure called uterine artery embolization, which utilizes tiny radioactive grains to block the uterine arteries and cut off the blood supply to the fibroids so they shrink and cease to cause trouble. As opposed to a hysterectomy, which is a major surgery, this is a minimally invasive approach. The doctor told me I was not a candidate for the procedure because fibroids will shrink on their own after menopause, but she agreed with me that since I had not experienced post-menopausal bleeding this year, the endometrial thickness is within acceptable boundaries, and my hyperplasia is the low-risk variety for future development of cancer, a wait and see approach makes sense in my case. She discussed this with my OB/GYN and the gynecologic oncologist, and they agreed with her.
During The Year Of Focusing Way Too Much On My Uterus, I learned just how quick doctors are to recommend a hysterectomy to post-menopausal women. If a woman can no longer serve as a baby factory, let's just yank the old plumbing out, risks be damned. The fact is, major surgery is always risky although sometimes the risks of surgery are necessary. It is also a fact that the female reproductive system provides benefits to its owner even after menopause and unless it is malfunctioning in a way that makes life unacceptably uncomfortable or poses risks to a woman's health, it's best to leave it alone.
Uterus: it's not just for incubating infants. 
That's been Aunt Cie's Soapbox, Ladies! Hysterectomy is sometimes necessary, but it tends to be overprescribed, particularly in post-menopausal women.

Thursday, July 25, 2019

Carpe Diem Summer Challenge 2019: Beach Party for Every Body

Image by David Shaw from Pixabay

What I have been wondering for a long time is this.

Why is it that when you have a bunch of stupid guys on a beach and a person with the “wrong” kind of body walks by, and they yell terrible and mean-spirited things at this person who is minding their own business,

Why is everyone’s response to ignore and even justify their behavior rather than shouting them down?

Why shouldn’t everyone be allowed to relax and have fun at the beach or the pool?

Why is it only fun for those whose bodies have been deemed attractive enough?

Why shouldn’t fat people and skinny people and people with scars and stretch marks and ladies with saggy boobs and men with round pot bellies and hairy folks and scrawny scarecrow guys and gals with arms and legs like Betty Spaghetti have a nice time too?

I think it’s rather boring when the only people who can go for a swim without feeling self-conscious and like they must keep covered up are young people with the “right” kind of body.

Shouldn’t we have gotten past the idea that the only people whose bodies should be seen are sleek, unblemished, photoshopped visions of pornographic “perfection?”

Shouldn’t the beach be a place where everyone can cool off, not yet another spot where only the hottest hotties are allowed?

Beach parties are fun
For those with the right body
Not so much for those
Whose bodies have been deemed wrong
Ignoring not an option


~Cie~