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My other home! With the amazing, lovely people who I can't remember whether they want to remain anonymous or not.
Thursday, 28 July 2011
Kill All Men
Er, no thank you. As they say, some of my best friends are men. Nevertheless, this seems to be the imagery that some people associate with when it comes to feminism. I read an article in the Business Herald today (OMG, why?) about compulsory quotas in boardrooms. As I understand it, there are some countries, Norway for one, that enforce by law that a certain proportion of executives be female. None of these laws dictate that this proportion should be over 50%. But the picture that the Herald put in with the article…
A woman trampling men. To death. Excuse moi? What is happening here?
Just so we are clear, I do NOT want to kill all men, nor do I want to kill any man. Yes, feminist sci-fi writers have dabbled with this idea, but only as a thought experiment: What would the world look like if there were no men? Tragically, fantastically beautiful, according to some. Most interesting read, but hardly a political polemic, and certainly not a reality.
The article argued that it had been proven that quotas do not benefit the economy – some study had shown 18% decrease in worth, which I cannot begin to decipher. It does go on to show barriers that keep women from fulfilling their potential, such as their lack of confidence and shy use of “relationship capital”. But I cannot help but think that this is a ruthlessly economic view of the world. Certainly, economic interests are of the same tapestry as social interests. But what of the humanitarian interests? Surely, this should weigh as much as, or even more than, the economic ones.
I like to think of men and women coming together in boardrooms all over the world to co-operate. Is this not what they are meant to do anyway? Work together to earn profit for the companies and shareholders? What is their job if it is not this?
What it is not is a war of the sexes. What it is certainly not is a war of the sexes that women are winning. Women still get paid less than men, men still far outnumber women in executive positions. So why the hate? Make love, not war, people. We have been through this already.
Reading is Fun,
KK.
Saturday, 23 July 2011
What I did in the last five years since my last major depressive episode
Made myself and everyone else around me miserable. Failed lots of papers at University. Made money, then spent it.
What a waste. I am sooo glad I am on antidepressants now. I have not been this happy or productive since 2004.
What a waste. I am sooo glad I am on antidepressants now. I have not been this happy or productive since 2004.
Dinner is not barter system for sex, it is dinner.
Just in case you were wondering.
This is why I have always gone Dutch. I am proud to say that I owe my ex not a cent. More than one person has said that this makes me a fool. What was the point of having sex and doing housework if I did not get something out of it? Fact: I enjoy sex. Fact: I did no more housework than my ex (less, if you believe in the mythology). A commentator has once mentioned, quite intending to be helpful (to me) I am sure, that my ex should “propose to that girl, she will do more housework for you.” Really. I would be so moved with gratitude that I would become commit my life to servitude. If wishes were fishes…
It is reality, however, that men do earn more than women. My ex has always made more money than me. Per hour, I should add. For some of the time, I did make more money overall, but only because I worked so many more hours than he. The present job market favours men, as well as masculine skills. So in this social climate, is it not correct that the man pay more than the woman in heterosexual relationships?
Maybe they should. I am reluctant, but I am willing to admit that there are good arguments for and against this. What it should never, ever, represent is a barter system for sex. No one, no man nor woman, should pressure sex as a payment for dinner paid. There is a clear delineation between economics of the thing, and the sexual aspect. These should not be confused with one another, or let it meld into one.
I personally believe in discussing sex before it happens. What it means to you might not mean what it means to them. If there is open communication, presumably there will be fewer disappointments down the road. Talk to your partners and potential partners about money and about sex.
So, um, does anybody want to buy me dinner? I would like that a lot.
$$$,
KK.
Friday, 22 July 2011
Intrepid Job Hunting Tips for Immigrants and Racial Minorities
You find yourself job hunting once more! Your mad skillz and fantastic personality are in the market, awaiting some lucky bugger to hire you. Hooray! Well done, this is the first step. You DO have a lot to offer the world.
There are especial challenges that face immigrants and racial minorities when it comes to job hunting, and everyone needs to know. It might not be YOU yourself that is preventing you from gainful employment, but how others might perceive you.
If any part of your name sounds "foreign", like mine does, please include in your cover letter or CV that YES, YOU CAN INDEED SPEAK ENGLISH (if you can). This might be obvious to you, and to everyone that you have actually spoken to, but it is not obvious to everyone. You do not have to say it outright, I normally say that I have "excellent communication skills". (I normally wink as I write this.)
I have heard from an ex-flatmate of mine that some companies simply throw away CVs from people with "foreign" names (hers did), so maybe even invest in a pseudonym. They are fun to make! I usually use my English name on CVs. This is not the bad kind of lying! Employers have as much to gain as you from hiring a competent worker. Do not let their prejudice stop you, it might even be subliminal!
Finding referees who speak English might be hard. Many of your influential and respected contacts may be reluctant to speak English to potential employers. This sucks, but that doe not mean at all that no one else would speak for you! Perhaps you need to broaden your approach. Ask a friend, or a lecturer, or a tutor, or your high school teacher! They are mostly understanding, especially if you explain the situation.
Always, but especially for us, double check cover letter or CV for spelling or grammatical mistakes. Yes, you should do this anyway, but if people suspect that your English is your second language, some might read more into it than they should. A typo for you might be bad English for some.
Does anyone else have anything else to add?
Good luck, and show 'em how awesome you truly are!
Hugs,
KK.
There are especial challenges that face immigrants and racial minorities when it comes to job hunting, and everyone needs to know. It might not be YOU yourself that is preventing you from gainful employment, but how others might perceive you.
If any part of your name sounds "foreign", like mine does, please include in your cover letter or CV that YES, YOU CAN INDEED SPEAK ENGLISH (if you can). This might be obvious to you, and to everyone that you have actually spoken to, but it is not obvious to everyone. You do not have to say it outright, I normally say that I have "excellent communication skills". (I normally wink as I write this.)
I have heard from an ex-flatmate of mine that some companies simply throw away CVs from people with "foreign" names (hers did), so maybe even invest in a pseudonym. They are fun to make! I usually use my English name on CVs. This is not the bad kind of lying! Employers have as much to gain as you from hiring a competent worker. Do not let their prejudice stop you, it might even be subliminal!
Finding referees who speak English might be hard. Many of your influential and respected contacts may be reluctant to speak English to potential employers. This sucks, but that doe not mean at all that no one else would speak for you! Perhaps you need to broaden your approach. Ask a friend, or a lecturer, or a tutor, or your high school teacher! They are mostly understanding, especially if you explain the situation.
Always, but especially for us, double check cover letter or CV for spelling or grammatical mistakes. Yes, you should do this anyway, but if people suspect that your English is your second language, some might read more into it than they should. A typo for you might be bad English for some.
Does anyone else have anything else to add?
Good luck, and show 'em how awesome you truly are!
Hugs,
KK.
Wednesday, 20 July 2011
I am one crazy biatch.
Really.
Some of you might know, I have been diagnosed with clinical depression. I am even on antidepressants. And they are, probably literally for me, a life saver. I am a non-functioning human being without them. Sure, I might have breathed, eaten (far too much), slept (also far too much) and occasionally showered once in a while (far too infrequently), but I could do very little otherwise. I did not perceive that I would be happy again, I simply could not imagine that this was even possible. The rare happy thoughts I had was imagining I was someone else entirely. I was in the proverbial deep end, doggy paddling for my life.
So here is a question that Peter D. Kramer asks in his book, Against Depression (2005): would you, if you could, cure everyone in the world of clinical depression? I stress that we are talking about clinical depression, not depression. Kramer accepts, and I too agree, that sadness is a crucial part of the human condition. I would even venture to say a productive one at that.
You might be surprised to know that lots of people would not. Kramer states that depression is associated with creativity in this culture, much like how TB was associated with a sort of fatal romanticism in the past. Many of our favourite artists and writers and thinkers have suffered from clinical depression, and some have even succumbed to it in suicide. Especially women writers, like Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf, Audre Lorde (attempted suicide in this case), and many others besides. They have become tragic heroines, and somehow their deaths have become inexorably linked with their work.
My personal experience tells me that I could not possibly be writing, indeed writing this this very moment (scary thought, yes? ;-)), without the benefit of antidepressants. I believe that these great women writers were only able to write those great works of literature when they had a temporary quiescence from their illness. Illness is an illness, whether it is in the mind or the body. And illness by definition is debilitating. People's experiences of depression may inform their work and compel them to have more compassion, but I maintain that the work itself cannot be a product of depression.
But I also suspect that depression is a product of the social condition, much like how sick building syndrome is a product of a sick building. For many, depression and clinical depression, is a response to social injustice. This is perhaps why there are so many women writers with clinical depression relative to their male counterparts. The little Marxist in me fears that antidepressants are the "opium of the masses", like how Marx thought that religion was for the proletariat class. Depression, then, is perhaps an accurate symptom of a sick society, and something on which the impetus for change can be born.
I think that in reality, depression must be a mixture of these two perspectives. Personally? I would be rid of clinical depression, not just for myself but for all the people in all the worlds, if only I could. And if this is to be possible at all, there must be less injustice and inequality, and we would all be more productive and have more fruitful lives.
What do you think? Would you do the same as me? If not, why? And is anyone offended I called myself crazy? I apologise in advance if I did. I am trying to reclaim the word crazy, but I am not sure yet whether this is a worthy cause at all. La dee dah.
Some of you might know, I have been diagnosed with clinical depression. I am even on antidepressants. And they are, probably literally for me, a life saver. I am a non-functioning human being without them. Sure, I might have breathed, eaten (far too much), slept (also far too much) and occasionally showered once in a while (far too infrequently), but I could do very little otherwise. I did not perceive that I would be happy again, I simply could not imagine that this was even possible. The rare happy thoughts I had was imagining I was someone else entirely. I was in the proverbial deep end, doggy paddling for my life.
So here is a question that Peter D. Kramer asks in his book, Against Depression (2005): would you, if you could, cure everyone in the world of clinical depression? I stress that we are talking about clinical depression, not depression. Kramer accepts, and I too agree, that sadness is a crucial part of the human condition. I would even venture to say a productive one at that.
You might be surprised to know that lots of people would not. Kramer states that depression is associated with creativity in this culture, much like how TB was associated with a sort of fatal romanticism in the past. Many of our favourite artists and writers and thinkers have suffered from clinical depression, and some have even succumbed to it in suicide. Especially women writers, like Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf, Audre Lorde (attempted suicide in this case), and many others besides. They have become tragic heroines, and somehow their deaths have become inexorably linked with their work.
My personal experience tells me that I could not possibly be writing, indeed writing this this very moment (scary thought, yes? ;-)), without the benefit of antidepressants. I believe that these great women writers were only able to write those great works of literature when they had a temporary quiescence from their illness. Illness is an illness, whether it is in the mind or the body. And illness by definition is debilitating. People's experiences of depression may inform their work and compel them to have more compassion, but I maintain that the work itself cannot be a product of depression.
But I also suspect that depression is a product of the social condition, much like how sick building syndrome is a product of a sick building. For many, depression and clinical depression, is a response to social injustice. This is perhaps why there are so many women writers with clinical depression relative to their male counterparts. The little Marxist in me fears that antidepressants are the "opium of the masses", like how Marx thought that religion was for the proletariat class. Depression, then, is perhaps an accurate symptom of a sick society, and something on which the impetus for change can be born.
I think that in reality, depression must be a mixture of these two perspectives. Personally? I would be rid of clinical depression, not just for myself but for all the people in all the worlds, if only I could. And if this is to be possible at all, there must be less injustice and inequality, and we would all be more productive and have more fruitful lives.
What do you think? Would you do the same as me? If not, why? And is anyone offended I called myself crazy? I apologise in advance if I did. I am trying to reclaim the word crazy, but I am not sure yet whether this is a worthy cause at all. La dee dah.
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
Asian Undercover! or, How I became an Unwilling Sleuth
Hello dear Readers! I have a confession to make: I eavesdrop. I am a flaming, flagrant eavesdropper. Besides it being a questionable habit, it is quite fascinating what people say in public if they think no one can understand them.
I do not go around creepily sneaking up to people in public to hear what they are saying, no. (I would not admit to this even if I did. Ehem. Okay, there were these girls, one time last week, but anthropologically speaking, they were unbelievably stupid.)
I merely look Chinese, according to some. I am not, I am Korean racially, and mostly Kiwi ethnically. It is an easy mistake to make, and I personally do not have the talent for differentiating between different kinds of Asians on sight. Unfortunately for some, this means that people do not always expect me to understand (albeit rudimentary) Korean.
So sometimes, quite unexpectedly, people say things that they do not intend for me to understand. It is sometimes people speaking in English, who maybe thought that I could not. But by far more often, it is other Korean people, thinking that I am not.
One memorable time, I was in a crowd with one of my best friends, who is South African New Zealander. There was some uncomfortable shuffling, and by complete accident, my friend bumped into someone. That person did not say anything in English, but under her breath, called my friend ugly. She is most definitely not, and a wonderful person besides. I caught it, and, er, suffice to say, I won.
Other times, people are speaking in Korean for privacy. I find this quite tricky to manage. What is one to do? By the time I realise that I am hearing something that I should not, it is maybe too late to move away abruptly without these people realising, much to their dismay, that I understood. And for frankly racist reasons, this also embarrasses some people when they find out they have made a mistake. But I also know that I do not have the right to sit there and listen gleefully with morbid curiosity. It is tempting sometimes, and honestly, if you want things to remain private, why not find an actual private place to talk?
Does this happen to anyone else? Tell me, the gossip monger in me wants to know. The juicier and gorier the better.
Sometimes a very bad girl indeed,
KK.
I do not go around creepily sneaking up to people in public to hear what they are saying, no. (I would not admit to this even if I did. Ehem. Okay, there were these girls, one time last week, but anthropologically speaking, they were unbelievably stupid.)
I merely look Chinese, according to some. I am not, I am Korean racially, and mostly Kiwi ethnically. It is an easy mistake to make, and I personally do not have the talent for differentiating between different kinds of Asians on sight. Unfortunately for some, this means that people do not always expect me to understand (albeit rudimentary) Korean.
So sometimes, quite unexpectedly, people say things that they do not intend for me to understand. It is sometimes people speaking in English, who maybe thought that I could not. But by far more often, it is other Korean people, thinking that I am not.
One memorable time, I was in a crowd with one of my best friends, who is South African New Zealander. There was some uncomfortable shuffling, and by complete accident, my friend bumped into someone. That person did not say anything in English, but under her breath, called my friend ugly. She is most definitely not, and a wonderful person besides. I caught it, and, er, suffice to say, I won.
Other times, people are speaking in Korean for privacy. I find this quite tricky to manage. What is one to do? By the time I realise that I am hearing something that I should not, it is maybe too late to move away abruptly without these people realising, much to their dismay, that I understood. And for frankly racist reasons, this also embarrasses some people when they find out they have made a mistake. But I also know that I do not have the right to sit there and listen gleefully with morbid curiosity. It is tempting sometimes, and honestly, if you want things to remain private, why not find an actual private place to talk?
Does this happen to anyone else? Tell me, the gossip monger in me wants to know. The juicier and gorier the better.
Sometimes a very bad girl indeed,
KK.
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