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Tuesday on the Soapbox

The Ethanol Swindle

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If you’ve pulled up to a gas pump recently, you might have noticed a little sign either on the pump or nearby: “Gas Contains 10% Ethanol,” or “This station includes ethanol in all grades of gasoline sold here.” While most people might not take notice of it, I do–and it angers me every time I see it, because I know I’m getting swindled.

Wait, What?

Yes, I said “swindled.” Ethanol is included in just about every station’s gas these days, but I have consistently found that it reduces my fuel economy by nearly 3 mpg (from 28 to 25-26). And I’m still having to pay for it as if it’s pure gas–I only get maybe 2 cents off per gallon compared to pure gas. If that’s not a swindle, I don’t know what is.

What Is Ethanol, Anyway?

According to Wikipedia, ethanol is a corn-based fuel, meant for “flexible-fuel” vehicles, but in low concentrations (10% or lower), it’s seemingly safe to mix in with regular gasoline.

But I Thought Ethanol Was a “Greener” Choice?

Well, it kinda is and it kinda isn’t. It’s not a fossil fuel like pure gasoline, sure. And yes, it uses corn, a somewhat more “renewable resource.” But it also burns less efficiently than pure gas does in a gas-designed car, therefore reducing the MPG you get per tank. Also, growing corn solely for producing ethanol would reduce land area for growing food.

Wikipedia’s article, linked above, says that ethanol only reduces mileage by 3%, but I believe it’s much higher than that, since my little Ford Focus ZX3 gets only 25-26 city MPG with ethanol-infused gas, and 28 city MPG with pure gas. (I’ve tested it several times, accounting for tire pressure, driving habits, and other car maintenance; the only difference is the fuel, and that same 2-3 MPG difference shows up every time I have to buy ethanol fuel.) This is the equivalent of feeding my kid nothing but fruit and Chinese noodles; an hour later the kid is hungry again (and I would be, too).

Now, a few say that ethanol is cleaner for air and better for environment, which it may indeed be if we all switch over to vehicles that can use pure ethanol, perhaps. But an overwhelming majority of the articles I read in my research attest that ethanol, especially when blended into otherwise pure gas, is not a cost-saving or environment-saving maneuver.

For instance, Cato.org reports that ethanol will make us use more crop land, is more expensive than gas, will actually raise gas prices, is not renewable, increases smog, and costs more to produce. The New York Times seconds that assessment, and the Washington Post thirds it, with recounts of people’s negative experiences with using ethanol, especially in small engines like lawnmowers. The Washington Post’s article even mentions power equipment failing when given ethanol-infused fuel!

The Most Infuriating Thing

Not only is ethanol bad for little engines and raising costs of ethanol-blended fuel due to subsidies, but it also is just as expensive as pure gas, at least around my hometown.

Though the article I just linked to says that ethanol gas is often 25-40 cents cheaper per gallon than pure gas, I have not found that to be the case. Between the pure-gas and the ethanol-gas sellers, there’s only usually a 2-3 cent difference between the two, and that’s in many places in and near my hometown. Same money, less MPG. What does R-I-P-O-F-F spell?

How Can We Change This?

I know that we need to have an energy economy less dependent on fossil fuels, and we need to have fuels that don’t clog and smog the air up. But there’s got to be something out there besides adding something to gasoline that makes the mileage go DOWN, making demand for gasoline go UP and usage go UP. Plus, there’s got to be a way to protect smaller engines–since pure gas is so hard to find these days, I have to buy ethanol-infused gas, and I don’t want to have to pay for an expensive engine repair later because of it. I don’t know squat about economics or resource management, but adding ethanol seems a little counterintuitive when you consider these effects.

Personally, till we can figure out what to do about ethanol gas, I’m going to seek out the few non-ethanol-infused gas stations near me (pure-gas.org has a list of all the pure-gas sellers all across America), and try to keep my little car fueled with satisfying real gas. Maybe if enough of us raise a fuss about it, something will get done!

Tuesday on the Soapbox

Battle of the Beauty Purge, Completed

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Last week I wrote about my massive beauty-product purge, ranging from shampoos and conditioners to lipstick and fragrance and everything in between.

This week, I will show you the fruits of that (very very hard) labor, in the form of a much nicer bathroom. Not just showing makeup products, but ALL of the products I reduced and condensed, and the total effect that had on my bathroom.

What Remained After the Purge

Makeup

About four years ago, I quit wearing full-face makeup all the time. Not coincidentally, I started dating my awesome boyfriend of win around that time–as we got to know each other, I found myself not feeling the need to wear much makeup around him, because he was always so positive about my appearance. When we purged the bathroom, I realized I didn’t need all the random makeup I was hoarding; either it was out-of-date, the wrong colors, or it just wasn’t necessary anymore. Thus, my collection was edited waaaaay down, into what you see below.


Clockwise from top left: New York Color Color Wheel Mosaic Powders in Translucent Highlighter Glow (top left) and Pink Cheek Glow (top right); E.L.F. Bronzer in Sun Kissed; Clinique Superpowder Double Face Makeup in Matte Ivory

True story–these four products are all that I use for face makeup these days. (Concealer has either never worked right or I never learned how to apply it without it looking blotchy and fake, so I don’t bother buying it anymore. And I find that the Superpowder does a fair job of covering most flaws anyway. ^_^) The bronzer, blush, and translucent powder over top gives me a naturally-finished look without taking too long.


From left: Revlon Illuminance Creme Shadow in Precious Metals; New York Color Metro Quarter Eye Shadow in South Street Seaport; CoverGirl Eye Enhancers in Drama Eyes #222 (left) and Tropical Fusion* #205 (right). Eye pencil (between the eye palettes) is New York Color Kohl Brow/Eyeliner Pencil in Jet Black.
*unsure of exact product name

Just these four eye palettes make it possible to mix nearly any color I want without having to buy every single shade. I can make a dark green, for instance, by taking the teal shade and adding a little black and a little brown; I can make a light purple by mixing the dark burgundy, the dark blue, and a little white. And, of course, they are all lovely shades to wear on their own. (The cream shadows, at far left, are great highlighters or bases, depending on what I need–they show up darker in this picture than they really are.)


From left: CoverGirl Wetslicks in Shimmershell; L.A. Colors Glossy Lips in Jammin’ Jelly; Neutrogena MoistureShine glosses in Healthy Blush (left) and Berry (right); New York Color lipstick in Ruby #305; Beauty Innovations lip palette, unknown name.

I reduced my lip makeup collection SEVERELY. These are all the lipsticks I own now, and they, like the eye products, can be mixed together to get the precise shade I’m after. I prefer glossier/smoother textures, and so most of my collection focuses around that.

The Glossy Lips gloss (second from left) is not really that dark, by the way–see it in the light, below:

Bath Products


From nearly a tubful of bottles, we shrunk my impressive shampoo collection down to this small drawer; we got rid of at least 150 shampoo bottles to condense it down to what I really use and like. I’ve got four basic formulas I like: light conditioning, heavy conditioning, super-cleansing, and volumizing. Thus, each of the bottles in this drawer does one of the four functions.


Since I hate having the “extra step” of conditioning in the shower every day, I have considerably fewer conditioners. Most of these conditioners match a super-cleansing or light conditioning shampoo.


I kid you not, we got rid of over 50 different shower gel bottles, and now I have room to spare in this little drawer. I generally like clearer, less-creamy shower gels with light fragrances, so that’s largely what my small collection is about. (I’m also in the process of phasing out shower gels in favor of scented bar soaps, which last longer and are cheaper.)

Fragrances


Okay, okay, I admit it, I like body sprays and scented stuff. And maaaaaybe I could stand to reduce this just a touch more. But considering that we hauled out 2 big black trash bags full of nothing but old perfume bottles… 🙂


I had been storing my sprays and lotions alongside my shower gels in that little drawer. But the drawer was way too small to hold all that awesome in it, and I was always forgetting to use the sprays because they were hidden away. Thus, I got this white-painted metal spice rack from Walmart for about 10 bucks, to create a “fragrance display” in my bathroom.


See? Looks a lot better than them just sitting out on the counter in a big conglomerate mess. (Oh, and the sprig of blue flowers beside them is there just ’cause it’s pretty. ^o^)

Hair Notions and Jewelry

I usually have longer hair most of the time, so I have tons of scrunchies, clips, and smooth bands to craft it into “cool hair,” as my boyfriend describes it. But in order to get my collection into a more manageable size, I had to edit and toss a bunch of stuff.


This is my much-reduced selection of bigger hair notions–I used to have about 3,000 of those big hair clips back in the day. LOL…


…but I still have a ton of little hair notions in the form of tiny clips and bands. What can I say, it’s a work in progress!


And these are all the smaller scrunchies that wouldn’t fit on my big ole scrunchie rack.

“Scrunchie rack?” you say. “What’s a scrunchie rack?”

THIS:


It was a hand-towel rack. I saw the unique, flattened “S” shape of the rack, below…


…and I thought, “Hey, I think I could thread my scrunchies onto that.” So I repurposed it…


…like so. It might look like a confusion of fabric (and it kinda is), but there’s organization there. Now I can see all the scrunchies at once and pick one off fairly easily.

Speaking of racks, here’s the slightly-Asian-inspired jewelry rack I picked up on clearance from Walmart:


Where once my jewelry was in scattered bags all over the house, now it has a permanent (and pretty) home in the bathroom, safely away from hungry sink drains. Awwwh yeah.

Other Items

When I said my boyfriend and I cleaned the bathroom, we cleaned out EVERYTHING and made space for EVERYTHING that was left. Like my soap/razors/hair products drawer:


Uh, yeah, this is slightly still a work in progress. But at least I always know where the soap is now, instead of having to dig through 4 cabinets and 2 drawers!


That’s right, I dedicated a whole bathroom drawer to brushes. And yes, I do use every single one of them, depending on styling needs. No more knocking stuff off the cabinet tops to find that one stinkin’ brush that’s hiding from me!


And because I had no set place for my toothbrushes, cough drops, bandages, etc, I dedicated the drawer on the other side of the sink to hold such supplies. It’s the unofficial “medicine cabinet.” (And yes, I regularly need that many Band-Aids. I am one of the clumsiest, most accident-prone people ever. The first-aid companies <3 me.)

The Proudest Achievement: Organization in the Bathroom

First off, this thing rocks my socks.

It only stands about a foot or so tall, but held within it is all my makeup (top two drawers) and most of my hair notions (bottom three drawers).


Face stuff (plus a few beauty tools)…


…and everything else makeup-y. See? It all fits!

Combine that with the awesomeness of the racks holding my jewelry, fragrances, and scrunchies, and you get this:

…I’m finally bathroom-proud. It may not be the best-looking, it may still be in progress, but I’m using the space a lot better than I ever did before.

And LOOK! I can see the color of the countertops!! That, in itself, is a massive achievement. 😀 😀 😀

Tuesday on the Soapbox

Let’s Stop Throwing Tantrums and Calling Names

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Watching the political situation erupt in America is like watching kindergartners fight on the playground. Well, except for one major difference: there are more public tantrums, controversial angry statements, and name-calling than any 5-year-old could dream up.

Whatever political party you affiliate yourself with, or even if you are no political party (probably due to this very phenomenon), it is embarrassing for all of us. Who wants to be represented by people who can’t get along long enough to talk like grownups, when that’s what they’re being PAID to do?

Is Politics Even About Leadership Anymore?

The upcoming election in November has only heightened the tensions between the two dominant parties. Mitt Romney has already said that the reason he wants to win is to defeat Barack Obama. The words came straight from him: all he wants to do is beat a political rival, not lead the country, not get us out of the economic mess we’ve been mired in since 2006 (at least!).

I think that’s a very telling statement; it reveals how at least one candidate views politics, and as you survey the rest of the political field, the adversarial attitude between conservatives and liberals seems to be a popular view these days. Politics, if you look at federal Congress all the way down to local levels, is no longer about being a public servant, but about being a victor in the public eye. It’s no longer about solving national problems, but about who can tell the best story and garner the most attention so they get elected or reelected.

This is shameful, and it’s not right. Why bother having politicians at all, if this is how they’re going to act? Why bother electing people to lead, if they are going to ignore the duty we chose them for? Politics has turned into a zoo, complete with people throwing verbal excrement at each other, often just as much within their own party as across party lines.

Republicans and Democrats: More like a Dysfunctional Couple than True Enemies

This may sound strange to some, but I view the vitriolic back-and-forth between Republicans/conservatives and Democrats/liberals as the fighting between a dysfunctional, long-married couple.

Picture this: they’ve lived together for so long that the smallest flaws in the other person irritate them to death; they spend their days together angrily hashing and rehashing the same old issues and never getting anywhere on them. And don’t forget, both of them go to bed mad on a regular basis.

Neither person is interested in hearing the other’s point of view anymore. Neither one is interested, really, in resolving the conflict between them. The conflict has become a Conflict, with a capital C, that defines their very lives; it’s gone on for so long that it has become normal and accepted behavior. Any of this sounding familiar yet?

I believe both major American political parties have fallen into this trap with each other. There’s almost no listening going on between the two parties, but there’s a whole lot of negative comments and blanket generalizations about the other party flying around each camp. What was it I saw on Facebook a couple of nights ago from a conservative poster? “Well, all LIBS want ‘respect’ and wave the race card at you when you don’t give it.”

Generalizations -> Stereotypes -> Prejudices

These kinds of generalizations, stereotypes, and prejudices against each other get us absolutely nowhere. Once you start thinking of another person (or another party) in absolutes, like “He always forgets to pick up his **** socks off the floor!” or “They always want big government and big spending!”, then your perception of that person/party becomes one-dimensional. Soon enough, their flaws and your own prejudices are all you see.

I’m guilty of this myself; for years, I thought of conservatives in just the same negative way. I hated their “closed-minded religion” instead of true Jesus-following beliefs; I hated their defiant “God, guns and anti-gay” platform; I hated how they preached of tolerance while being intolerant of others. As a nearly-closeted liberal in an increasingly conservative town, county, region, and state, I felt personally attacked and marginalized by these beliefs. Because this was how I believed all conservatives acted, I feared the ones living near me.

But I’ve come to realize that not all conservatives believe or act this way. I was largely led astray by the sound bites I heard in the media, and it wasn’t until I actually was friends with real-life conservatives that I began to see the varying degrees of political belief within parties, and realize it in myself as well.

Instead of Letting the Aisle in Congress Divide Us, Let it Unite Us

I’m not saying that all the members of Congress should literally marry somebody of the other party (though that would be kinda funny). What I mean is that instead of throwing things across the aisle at each other, maybe we should commit to “walk down the Congress aisle” together, pledging not “till death do us part,” but “till compromise shall we listen.” Maybe conservatives and liberals should try to work things out more like a married couple would instead of like bitter enemies.

America is a diverse nation, full of vastly different opinions and ways of life; of course we’re going to disagree. I may not understand why conservatives believe as they do; they may not understand why I, as a liberal, believe as I do. But at least I should be willing to sit down, listen respectfully, and compromise where necessary. As long as we keep trying to legislate without listening, we are NEVER, EVER, EVER going to get anywhere, just as a married couple who keeps shouting over each other will never solve their argument.

We Need Each Other–We’re ALL Humans!

Conservatives and liberals need each other to survive, to serve as checks and balances for each other. That’s why the legislative, judicial, and executive branches of government even exist in the first place: to make sure the government and all its employees are making balanced decisions that take into account all possible outcomes and effects. The duality of the political parties is no accident; each needs the other to keep them from going overboard in either direction.

At least, that was how it was supposed to work. The way Congress is behaving these days, I wonder if any of them listened in civics class. And I thought handling 30 middle-schoolers at a time was rough; I would not want President Obama’s job right now. 30 surly 13-year-olds are not fun to deal with, but I think over 100 stubborn Congressmen and women might be just a wee bit more difficult to handle.

If we can get over the stereotypes and prejudices each party has against the other, we might just be able to solve the huge problems our nation is facing. If not…well, we’ll have to resign ourselves to more years and decades of failures before we learn. All the roses and flowers in the world won’t solve this. It will take heartfelt communication, and then, if we’re lucky, compromise and hope afterwards.

Tuesday on the Soapbox

Tales from the Picky Eater’s Plate

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As my parents could probably tell you, I’ve been a picky eater as long as I can remember (and probably even before that). One of the first coherent thoughts I expressed aloud, as a child, was “Don’t want. Not good. Bad taste.” XD

My relationship with certain types of food, therefore, has been a tenuous one. Most vegetables and “healthy” food has instead tasted horribly bitter to me–and I don’t think I’m alone in that. Not only that, I experience aversions to certain food textures as well, which I’ll elaborate on in a moment–and I’m also not the only one to be particular about food textures. Some consider it a mild eating disorder, some think it’s part of a sensory disorder, and others are simply talking about their own food texture hates.

Through my growing-up years and into adulthood, I have kept trying new foods that contain the ingredients I didn’t like. But I often find myself spitting out the non-favorite food anyway, either voluntarily into a napkin or involuntarily (gagging and sometimes even throwing up). This is not an entitlement issue–it’s actually quite restricting to my diet, and makes it 3 times more complicated when I have to order things specially made, or have to do “surgery” on a meal to remove all the crap I’m not going to touch.

Example: People don’t realize how lettuce and tomato flavors RUIN a burger, for instance–you can take the lettuce leaf and tomato slice off, but the bitter juices remain, tainting the bun, cheese slice and meat patty beneath, not to speak of all the condiments you lose in the “burger surgery” process. And if I ask for lettuce and tomato to be removed, I still have to pay regular price for it; I’m basically paying for lettuce and tomato I don’t want and don’t get. NOT fair, much?

When I have tried to explain my particular food tastes to others, the general consensus is that if “I’d just try it, I’d like it.” But I don’t like wasting money on food I just flat won’t eat. And, most of the time, I have tried these foods, and I still didn’t like them, or I experienced such a violent negative reaction to them that it’s not worth it. It seems my taste buds are very particular, and though I’d like to get healthy and eat “healthy,” most of the good-for-me foods don’t even taste like food to me.

Non-Favorite Foods

Vegetables

  • Tomatoes
  • Carrots
  • Corn
  • Mushrooms
  • Onions
  • Lettuce (especially Iceberg lettuce)
  • Olives
  • Broccoli (if not cooked in anything)
  • Spinach (if not drowned out with cheese)
 Fruits

  • Pineapples
  • Apples
  • Oranges (if left whole)
  • Bananas
  • Strawberries (if left whole)
  • Cherries
  • Peaches
 Meats

  • Steak
  • Bacon
  • Southern-style barbecue
  • Most seafood
  • Fatty bits hanging on any meat product
 Desserts/Snacks

  • Chocolate in too large a quantity
  • Twinkies
  • Shredded coconut
  • Anything drowning in grease/fat
  • Yogurt

How This Stuff Tastes to Me

  • Broccoli and spinach are only good mashed up in casseroles with loads of cheese on top so I can’t really taste ’em. Otherwise, they both taste like crunchy grass. (As in, I eat it and I’m tempted to moo afterwards.)
  • Chunky chopped tomatoes/whole tomatoes taste like acidic water and soil, and nothing else. And the texture is nasty as well–slippery and slidy in my mouth, dodges my teeth. Yuck. But I can eat ketchup just fine; go figure.
  • Bananas have too flat a flavor to really enjoy, but it’s the texture that kills me. Soft and mushy right until you get to the middle, and then your teeth crunch through this hard bit in the center. Um, no thank you, I didn’t want cardboard in the middle of my banana.
  • Eating olives feels like I’m eating cooked eyeballs. HECK to the NO.
  • Eating cooked onions is like eating spicy slivers of tapeworms. Pull the onion slice out of a breaded onion ring sometime and you’ll see exactly what I mean. BLEGH!
  • Iceberg lettuce (the really pale green/white kind) is basically crunchy, bitter paper impregnated with water.
  • Mushrooms have an odd rubbery texture that kinda feels like I’m eating a bodily organ of some sort. Combine that with an utter lack of flavor, and you get why I hate mushrooms.
  • Pulp and fiber in most fruits and vegetables is like eating a wad of Silly String, or gum that has long since lost its flavor. Examples: celery (bite into it, and it looks like split ends), oranges (yuck, pulp that gets all over my tongue and I can’t swallow it)
  • I’ve tried and tried to enjoy Twinkies and other “just-sugar-and-fat” foods, and I can’t take ’em. They are literally too sweet–my mouth dries out and I choke.
  • Very greasy food, like Taco Bell’s new beef recipe = not awesome.
  • I can take chocolate in small quantities, but I have to have something to drink with it–otherwise, the back of my throat burns like I’ve tried to swallow rubbing alcohol.
  • Strong fishy odors make me think of women’s health issues, NOT food. Seafood is largely yuck for that reason. (Seafood is also very chewy/oily)
  • Yogurt is okay in smoothies–just PLEASE do not serve it to me plain. The “live, rotting bacteria” taste has to be covered up with a much stronger flavor.

Not Just Taste, but Texture, Too

It’s true–I generally pay attention to texture of food as well as taste. One more reason that I hate most vegetables and fruit is because of the natural crunchy or pulpy texture–I don’t like too much crunch and too little taste, like in Iceberg lettuce, nor do I want 75% of what I ingest to be tasteless wads of pulp or seeds, like oranges and bananas.

Along with crunchy and pulpy, the tough, chewy foods are generally not on my happy list; thus, why I rarely eat most forms of pork and steak. Bacon? No, thank you, all you are is crisp and grease, or too tough to pull apart. BBQ pork? No, you’re just possum meat in a different animal (longer you chew it, bigger it gets). Steak? Why pay 16 bucks for meat that either tastes like leather or is mooing at me?

Basically, if the food feels disgusting in my mouth, I’m not going to be able to eat it, even if it tastes okay. Example: as much as I love oranges’ flavor, I can’t stand the texture of the pulp in my mouth–thus, no whole oranges for me. Literally makes me want to gag.

Other Picky Food “Rules”

  • Vegetables and meats are supposed to be salty, and fruits and desserts are supposed to be sweet. No crossovers allowed (i.e. sweet corn, honey barbecue flavored meat, watermelon with salt on it, brownies with salted nuts included).
  • Sweet and salty flavors are not supposed to mesh in the same food. Instead, sweet should be cleansed from the palate first before taking a bite of salty, and vice versa.
  • If the meat is pink, has blood running from it, or if the meat looks too much like the animal it came from (i.e., leg of lamb that still LOOKS like a leg), no way I’m eating it.

Summary

Since we all eat but experience food differently, food is both an intensely universal and personal experience. My experience is just one among many–yours is likely completely different. But it’s interesting to share what foods we love and hate, and why.

I also wanted to raise awareness of the food texture issue, since that seems to be a much more common phenomenon than I ever dreamed. Who knew I had compatriots in the hatred of orange pulp and banana seeds?

Tuesday on the Soapbox

A “Tug” on My Brain: Intuition

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Countless times I’ve experienced it, especially driving somewhere. For instance, I’ll be headed to town, and feel a “tug” to go a different route to town than usual (there are two basic ways to get to the closest town from my house). It could happen with any route, at any time. There appears to be no rhyme or reason to it–except, of course, that the times it happens corresponds exactly with accidents or other traffic issues happening on the road I didn’t take.

The first couple of times this happened, that I followed the “tug” and later found out about something awful I avoided, I brushed it off. Now that it’s happened more than 20 times in the last four years, I’ve started to wonder what exactly this strange intuition is.

“Tugs” In Other Areas of Life

Intuitive “tugs” like this have also popped up in non-driving situations, like thoughts of someone randomly popping to mind.

Example #1: The Old High School Acquaintance

I remember about six months ago, I randomly thought of a girl I hadn’t talked to since high school while I was out on an errand. “I haven’t seen her in a long time,” I thought. “Wonder how she’s doing?”

I later met a few other high school friends while out and about at one of the local big-box stores. As we chatted in line at the checkout, one of the girls said, “Oh, and did you hear about [the girl]’s father?”

“Huh? No, I hadn’t,” I replied. “What happened?”

“He got put in the hospital today, ’round lunchtime,” the other girl said. “Kidney stones or something. She’s really messed up over it.”

The odds of this being a coincidence felt pretty slim, even in our small town. Why would that particular person be in my thoughts, only to have other people mention her to me later, in connection with her father’s illness? It was a little rattling, to say the least. Now, if someone pops to mind, I immediately pray for them–who knows why they’ve popped to mind, but I’m covering my bases.

This random, unpredictable sense has aided me in traffic situations, health diagnoses, and even just occasional meetings with people. Some people just seem to exude their worry, and I find myself unconsciously responding to that, offering encouragement–like the couple I served at the calendar store during the holidays in 2009.

Example #2: The Couple at the Calendar Store

When this couple came in to shop, I could tell they were desperately worried about something, but I didn’t know what. I didn’t say anything to them at all until they came up to check out–they spent most of their time talking quietly and looking around. While I was running their purchases through, I made some offhand comment about my knee acting up (probably said something like “Good ol’ Arthur Itis is after me again” or something silly). They exchanged a look, and said “As young as you are, you have arthritis?”

“Most likely–runs in my family, and I’ve had a lot of injuries to it,” I replied.

Again, the slightly-surprised look. “Well, our son is having a lot of pain and swelling in his left knee, especially when he wakes up in the mornings. We’re actually over here shopping, waiting for him to get done with testing–we thought maybe he’d broken something.”

“Sounds like what I go through on many mornings with my own joints,” I told them. “If it isn’t broken, it might be arthritis. But I take Advil or Aleve, and try to rest the joint if I can, and that helps.” I could FEEL them relaxing, and they smiled for the first time since they came in. They seemed happier now that they had a possible explanation for what was happening to their son. I had not known of any illness beforehand, but it had just seemed like the right thing to say.

Intuition through Dreams: Premonitions

Intuition like this seems to even occur in dreams for me–one very disturbing (but awesome) dream experience happened about two years ago.

Example #3: The T-Intersection Dream

Back in the summer of 2010, I had a vivid dream that I was at a country T-intersection about 12 miles from home, at night. I was getting ready to turn left in the dream, turning to go home from that point. It struck me as odd, though–in the dream, the house across the road had odd, blue-icicle Christmas lights on its side porch, which made no sense because it was July when I had the dream.

In the dream, I looked back and forth, checking to see if it was clear for me to turn. (This particular intersection is very scary at night because the lay of the land makes it hard to see if people are coming, and since it’s near a busy highway, some people come busting through there at 50+ mph.) I began to turn, and all of a sudden, I saw a flash of bright blue-green paint, right before I T-boned the pickup truck that had come out of absolutely nowhere. The jarring impact, and the sound of tearing, screeching metal, stayed with me long after I woke, and I could not go back to sleep.

Near Christmas 2010, I found myself at that same intersection, late at night–it was about 11:30 on a Friday. I looked back and forth, and it looked clear; seemed I could get on my way with no worries. But I happened to glance ahead and see the house across the road–it looked the same as it had been in my dream. Even the blue-icicle lights were in the same position on the house as they had been, only decorating the side porch. I felt that now-familiar “tug” on my brain, and thought, “This looks a bit too much like my dream for my liking.” Paused in thought, I held the car still longer than I had in the dream.

Then a flash of bright blue-green paint whizzed by in my headlights, shocking me out of my dream-memory. A pickup truck, going about 20 miles over the speed limit, had passed me in the night–the exact same color and general make that I had seen in the dream nearly six months before. If I had not waited a few seconds more, reflecting on my dream, I would have T-boned him exactly as I had done in the dream. I have no doubt that this dream saved my life by making me more watchful and aware.

“Tugs” about People: Danger Sense/Character Judgment

I can credit these strange senses with other, more immediate needs of mine as well–sensing when a person may become dangerous, or sensing when someone is in sincere need of help.

Example #4: The Young Blond Guy

For instance, one afternoon I was pumping gas near my college campus; I’d already paid at the pump and was well on my way to a full tank. A young man, blond-haired and wearing a jean jacket and camouflage-patterned pants, pulled up at the pump behind me and got out, ostensibly walking into the gas station’s convenience store. But instead of walking with purpose, he cruised–sauntered–on by my car, oh-so-casually glancing in my backseat and at my purse. Then, he moved on, walking on into the store.

Once he was in the store, the “tug” was unmistakable and strong, the impulse even expressing itself in words: “Get out, get out of here right now. You are in danger.” I quit pumping gas, got my printed receipt, and fairly flew out of the parking lot, taking the long way back to campus in case he followed me. I didn’t like the way he’d looked at me, as if he were sizing me up, and casing my car. But I got back to my dorm safely, and, once inside, quickly forgot about the incident.

It wasn’t until the next day in class that I heard several students talking about the woman who had been robbed at gunpoint at a local gas station. “Where was that?” I asked.

“That station right at the corner of campus, near the tire place,” one of the other guys said. “Happened just after 3:30 yesterday afternoon. They’re still lookin’ for the guy, too–had shoulder-length blond hair, wore a denim jacket and camo pants.”

Though I said nothing, I was shocked. The clock on my car radio had read 3:22 when I had pulled out of the gas station parking lot like a bat out of hell. The young man I had seen, who had given me such a huge case of the creeps, was dressed and looked exactly like the description. It seemed my intuition had been right, and I had been totally correct to follow it.

Example #5: The Scared Mother-to-Be

There was also the case of the young woman who approached me at the local coffee shop one evening, needing a ride back to Charlotte, NC, about an hour’s drive away. Though I did not know her, I had an instant sense, a “tug,” that made me want to help her. She seemed very desperate and afraid.

Though the drive eventually took us nearly all the way back to my hometown, due to a disagreement with the boyfriend she was having me drive her to meet, I was able to talk to her as I drove, and I found out she was four months pregnant, had been excluded from her church’s activities for being a “bad example” to the youth, and was terribly frightened about what was going to happen to her. I suspected abuse on the part of the “boyfriend,” whose very presence set off the “danger alarm” in my head–I was just as glad she did not choose to go with him after all.

By the time I dropped her off at a family member’s house in a nearby city, I had encouraged her to talk to her family members and seek their help. I had also told her that a church which excludes its members is not doing the work of Christ, and that God most definitely had a plan for her and her child. Listening to her talk of her life, weeping, was very difficult, but I did my best to minister to her and keep her safe on the road.

My intuition had been right again; though I had not known her from Eve when I first met her, she was someone who sincerely needed help in two ways, and I was willing to give it because of the “tug” of intuition I had had beforehand.

Where Do These “Tugs” of Intuition Come From?

I honestly cannot give an answer about where this intuition comes from. I’ve watched all manner of “psychics” do their acts, have investigated all the paranormal things I could, and still there’s no real answer to where these senses come from, and why they seem to be so dead-on accurate all the time.

I know for a fact I can’t predict the future consistently, nor can I see dead people around the living or talk to ghosts. But whatever they are, they have only benefited me and others positively. I prefer to think of these “tugs” as handy “warnings,” if you will…wherever they come from, they’ve certainly kept me out of danger and made me more helpful to others.

Tuesday on the Soapbox

Exercise Has Been Divorced From Reality

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Would I be completely in the wrong to say that exercise has been taken out of the context of our regular daily activity?

I don’t believe so, given the fact that most people’s exercise now takes place in gyms and home workouts rather than actual, useful activities. Exercise, far from being part of our chosen trade or part of our recreation, now is done in front of other, usually more fit people, at a gym or on a workout machine. It’s often regarded more as a status symbol than anything these days–if you have time to work out, you must be in a good job.

But what about exercise that MEANS something for your life, other than fitting into a smaller size or being healthier? Sure, those are worthy goals to have, but I would prefer to actually do something useful while exercising. Exercising just for its own sake is boring and lonely to me, and it feels useless; when in real life are we really going to lift weight in exactly the same pose for a certain number of times, or walk exactly a mile, or use just our abs to do anything besides laugh?

Modern “Exercise”: Movement without Context, without Purpose

In principle, this is the same problem I always had in math classes–being assigned 30 naked, context-less problems in a math book to “practice what we just learned” felt like a waste of time and effort. It always left me thinking, “I do all this problem-solving work, but it’s not really helping anybody. How about giving me 30 real-world problems that other people need solved right now? That way, I practice AND I help somebody out.”

Exercise, in my opinion, should be a fun activity that accomplishes a real-life goal outside of physical fitness. Yes, yes, I know, exercise for itself is great, but it bores me and makes me feel like I’m just wasting my time. I want it to multi-task.

Example of Purposeless Exercise: JUST Walking on a Track

Walking around and around in a pointless circle on a track for an hour? BORING. In fact, I’ve written a couple of times about exercise, including just how much I hate walking for no reason. Makes me want to tear my hair out. I’ve tried doing just walking as exercise several times, and I just can’t stay with it. Not only does every joint in my lower body hurt more with every step, but I’m wasting an hour just walking around when I could be getting stuff done at home, or running errands. It’s not “peaceful” or “relaxing,” as other people have told me it is for them–I find it maddening and painful.

Example of Purposeful Exercise: Walking as a Way to Get Stuff Done

Now, contrast that with activities that just involve walking: walking pets, running errands in town without using a car, or taking the kids on a nature hike. This is the kind of walking I can get behind–walking for a PURPOSE!

For instance, letting pets get out and about with you is a great way to bond with them, as well as to let them do their business outside (always good for the ol’ flooring). Parking your car and walking around in uptown saves gas, gets stuff done, AND gets you exercise. Getting the kids out of the house, away from computers, TVs, and video games, can be an important family bonding moment as well as family exercise. They can learn from you that exercise doesn’t have to be something regimented and divorced from their reality.

I Want This Kind of Exercise–the USEFUL Kind!

This is what I’m talking about–making exercise a seamless part of everyday life instead of a status symbol. Lifting weights 20-reps-at-a-time in the gym is pointless and means nothing for my everyday life; however, lifting junk down out of the attic and moving it out of my house is a weight-lifting exercise I can appreciate. I’ll be sore after doing both types of exercise, but only one type of exercise gets something done besides building up muscle.

Zumba, strangely, fulfills this “useful exercise” requirement I have in a unique way; it is based on dance moves, so I feel like I’m performing with a group of people rather than just “working out.” Not only that, being with the group of people and directly interfacing with the group leader helps me feel more accountable, like somebody actually gives a rat’s rear end that I’m doing this. It’s useful exercise because I love to perform and I love to socialize–it kills three birds with one stone, giving me new friends, a new “venue” to perform in, and a healthier body over time.

I know there are people out there who really enjoy the nitty-gritty training of exercise for its own sake. But I think if we’re ever going to be a healthier, fitter nation, we need to make exercise an integral part of life’s other activities rather than making it something we have to do outside of normal activities. Let’s make it not so lonely, boring, and horrible to try getting fit, and maybe more people will do it!

Tuesday on the Soapbox

Christmas Glassics: Tuesday on the Soapbox

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Today, I’ll review the social commentary and philosophy posts I’ve made on Crooked Glasses since July 2011. I’ve written about a wide variety of topics this fall and winter, so there is much to read–but it won’t be a textbook, I promise!

If you’re interested in seeing more posts from this category, my first Tuesday on the Soapbox Glassics post can be found here.

The Lighthearted Writing

Laughable life anecdotes, favorite fashion/hairstyle and beauty product preferences, and not being afraid to say “Woot!” have graced this category over the last few months.

I’ve also written about taking just 5 minutes to relax, enjoying perfect little moments and favorite times of day. Other humorous articles include learning how to drive like a ninja, the strange “cage shoe” fad, and hilarious typo/autocorrect fails.

Srs Bsns (Serious Business): Eye-Opening Articles

I’ve literally covered a lot of mental ground this fall and winter…everything from the pathetic lack of empathy in today’s society to the difficulty of forgiveness.

Personal anecdotes (perhaps a little tirade-ish) dot this category a little more heavily; I wrote a good bit about my beefs with forgotten spelling, modern TV shows’ quality, and politicians talking over each other without listening. I also spoke about my frustrations with handicapped parking being taken by non-handicapped people, still living on dialup internet, getting healthy without emotional support, and the physical pain I endure daily.

Combining anecdote with universal insight, I have also written articles on living without a laptop, epic math hatred, feeling alien to this society, missing the company of furry friends, and dealing with mental clutter.

Dive In Anywhere–The Reading’s Fine

Though I do not claim to be an accomplished commentator, I know that I can at least put forth an opinion decently. My hope is that you gain something positive from these articles, even if they are more solemn than LOL-inducing.

Tuesday on the Soapbox

This is What Happens to Robin without a Pet

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I’ve had pets most of my life, from cats to dogs, from turtles (Mr. Koopa 😛 ) to rabbits (Mr. and Mrs. Bunny). Both my mom and me are animal-lovers. (I regularly swerve out of the way of animals in the road, and have been known to weep if I can’t swerve out of the way in time.) I also like to cuddle and pet animals…but the pet store is an exercise in both fun and masochism. I love them, but I have to leave them all there. ;_;

I Apparently Cannot Haz (Living) Petz

Why do I have to leave pets at the store? Unfortunately, we live in the middle of a big forest which is simultaneously a little too close to the roadway–most of our pet animals end up navigating straight into traffic and being killed. We also suspect that other people nearby may have ended up accidentally “adopting” our pets, since many of “our” animals were half-wild and we could never catch them to put collars on them. Not to mention that the pound has likely been called by to pick up “strays” that might not be stray.

The dangers from humans isn’t the only danger to our pets. Wild animals, like raccoons and feral dogs, have killed many of our smaller animals (poor Mr. and Mrs. Bunny, and all the little kittens that have disappeared over the years… :C ). Heck, even some of our own pets have fought or preyed on each other–two of our otherwise nice dogs absolutely loved killing and eating many of the kittens that were born on the place during their lifetimes. (Is it any wonder I’m a cat person?)

After the disappearance of my last cat, Stacy, and her unnamed kitten, I have been loath to get another pet; my mom feels the same way since our last dog, Big Sam, was hit and killed in the road. As horrible luck as we’ve had keeping pets over the years, it just doesn’t seem right to subject another pet to that, or to get attached to yet another pet that will just get killed or disappear.

The Great Indoors Ain’t All That Great, Either

And if you’re wondering why we just don’t keep them indoors, it’s not because we don’t love them, but because indoor animals are just not an option right now, due to ill health. Keeping a pet inside is more responsibility than any of my family can handle right now with all the health problems Mom and Dad and I all have. Ill health has also led to lots of human junk and mess scattered about our house (you don’t move home six times from college without junk accumulating everywhere). This would not be a healthy or safe environment for a pet. And since outside is just as unsafe for pets as inside, it pretty much means no pets for us.

;_; I Miss Fuzzy Furry Friends…

But knowing all this doesn’t stop me from missing the company of a little animal (most especially a kitty). There’s just something about having a pet around the place…it’s comforting to know that I can go outside and just relax while petting a sweet kitty or doggie. Without animals around the place, I get nervous when I hear nighttime sounds around the house (it ain’t my animal making that eerie crying noise, so what is it?)

Knowing that pets help reduce blood pressure and stress, and knowing that I find myself stressed out more than usual these days, makes me know I could likely use a pet of my own at some point. Till then, I’ll content myself with keeping my boyfriend’s family pets entertained…after all, throwing a ball for a severely ADHD Dachshund does have its perks. XD

Tuesday on the Soapbox

The Long-Standing Feud Between Math and Me

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For much of my school life, I have hated math. It was the one subject I didn’t always do very well in. The studies of literature, social studies, and science came easily to me, as did the studies of foreign language, music, and drama; they were like favorite cats, purring in my lap and winding lazily around my ankles. Math was a different beast entirely–learning math was like trying to catch an eel with Vaseline-slicked hands.

And yet, strangely, I remember a time when I didn’t hate math. I would ask my father to come up with adding and subtracting problems with big numbers when I was first going to school, just to show how I could do it. But that was within the safety of my home, where I knew I wasn’t going to be teased within an inch of my life for being wrong.

First Problem with Math: I’m Either Right or I’m Wrong (and Usually, I’m Wrong)

At school, I didn’t feel I could afford to be wrong in front of everyone else. If I called out a wrong answer to a math problem, I heard about it for the rest of the week in vicious taunts and insults (more than normal ribbing)–the other kids couldn’t get enough of me failing, because usually I did so well in classes.

And, unluckily for me, wrong answers just became more and more common on my math tests and homework as I grew up. Soon, math wasn’t just adding and subtracting anymore, but “multiplying” (something I barely wrapped my brain around before the end of third grade), not to speak of the devilish art of “dividing”. (I believe long division is practiced most often in one of the circles of Hell described in Dante’s Inferno.)

Multiplying and dividing were longer, more involved processes, which were harder for me to concentrate on anyway because they were a pain to learn and a pain to remember. And because they took longer to do and I didn’t like focusing on them, they were harder to get right. Moreover, I didn’t understand WHY I had to do them. Adding and subtracting were easy because they were quick to do and I could easily see where they were used in the “real world.” Pardon the Southernism, but I thought, “When in tarnation am I going to have to know how to divide 256 by 8, or know the result of 12 x 17?”

As I got into these somewhat higher realms of math in upper elementary school, I was at the same time studying more advanced literature, social studies, and science, since I was in the Academically Gifted program. No one, not my teachers or the other students, could understand why I was so good at everything but math, and I could not tell them why either, but I could tell them exactly how frustrated it made me.

Second Problem with Math: It Makes Me Look Stupid

Much later, I was able to understand what it was about math that drove me nuts. Math proved to me how imperfect I was. The subject of math showed me that no matter how hard I tried, I was always going to be stupid and wrong at SOMETHING, and that other people would likely focus on the one thing I did WRONG rather than the 99 things I did RIGHT. We, as a society, focus on errors in someone else’s performance much more than we focus on their successes. (Can I get an AMEN?)

As a perfectionist, math and its nearly-inherent difficulty infuriated me beyond reason; I, too, focused on the one thing I did poorly on versus the many things I could do well. How could I spend literally HOURS working and working at a problem and get it WRONG? Was there not credit for effort, for the number of times I had to erase and start over? (I hate erasing almost as much as math–you never quite get the paper clean again!)

Not to mention that there was no way to “skip a step” to make the process of each problem faster; if I tried to make it go faster, I ended up getting horribly wrong results. To do it right, I had to do it slow, and I hated going slow. I wanted the answers yesterday, and I wanted them to be right, too, but my brain just wouldn’t do them. The processes I was asked to use were always so long and drawn-out and boring to my mind, and you had to do them JUST SO or everything would tumble down like a house of cards you breathed on too hard.

Third Problem with Math: It Became the Largest Source of Anxiety in My Academic Life

By fourth and fifth grade, math became a seat of anxiety in my mind, and anxiety, as I now know, “locks up” my thought process. All I could think about while trying to work on math problems was how much of a pain the problem was, not how to do it, and I ruminated around and around in circles till I couldn’t focus anymore. Even multiple-choice tests were no help; I often came up with answers that weren’t even LISTED. I could work myself into a nice big crying fit just trying to do five math problems, because each of them made me look stupid and helpless with every fruitless minute I spent on them. The other students’ teasing voices and laughter only served to heighten my anxieties even further–not only was I having trouble with math, but my troubles were public knowledge. The shame of it!

The Math Hatred Flowchart

The only thing this flowchart doesn’t show is that my math hatred was cyclical–once I got to the “math hatred of epic proportions,” problem-solving got longer, and longer, and longer. This, as you might imagine, led to more anxiety, more teasing, even more anxiety, and even more of a sense of futility. Why even keep TRYING to do well at this subject, when it was obviously in God’s will that I keep failing?

Fourth Problem with Math: It Was the Only Way to Be Respected Academically

By “failing”, I mean getting less than 90% on tests and homework. I was supposed to be one of the “smart kids,” but math threw me into emotional tailspins and locked me on a straight downward course with the ground. I was supposed to be a “smart kid,” but I was hamstrung when it came to math. It dragged down my GPA and made others doubt my gifts in other areas.

And of course, in the mid-to-late ’90s, being hyper-good at math meant you were considered a genius, while being hyper-good at everything else BUT math meant there was something wrong with you. All the “math and technology” special schools and the math competitions that sprung up everywhere told me that. Math was how you “got ahead” academically, how you got respect from other kids (and teachers!), and I just COULDN’T DO IT.

The frustration I experienced! I coveted that respect more than anything–I sure as heck wasn’t getting any friendship at school, after all. If I was disrespected and generally repudiated by most of the kids I went to school with, where did I belong in the academic society? Nowhere, and I wanted to belong, very badly.

Fifth Problem with Math: It Threatened to Ruin My Fragile Social Status

Other than my academics, I really didn’t have much going for me during much of my public schooling. I had no friends, no social life; for much of it, I had nothing else I did that was just mine, like a special gift of any sort. I was just “smart”, but I didn’t feel I deserved the label of “smart” because I stunk at math. My social status in school, for much of my public school life, rode on my grades, and those darned low B’s in math made me feel worse than average–again, like there was something wrong with me because I wasn’t good in a subject full of absolutes and just numbers.

Up until 7th grade and the discovery of my musical and written gifts, math kicked me in the shins over and over again, making me feel that no matter how old I got, I’d never get any respect for my intellect. I’d always be judged as lacking, by both my peers and my authority figures. To the boys, I was just another “stupid girl” who wasn’t good at math. To the girls, I was some unpopular whining thing who cried over her math books all the time. And the teachers just couldn’t get a handle on WHY math made me so angry. At the time, I could not tell them all of this, because I couldn’t self-analyze. All I knew was that the sight of numbers on a page with the instructions “Do 30 of these problems” locked my brain into obsession with my imminent failure.

The Math Feud, From Middle School to Present-Day

All of the above problems and fears popped up at irregular intervals throughout middle school, high school, and even up into college. I began to see myself as a complete failure when it came to math, so I didn’t expect hardly anything of myself when working with the subject matter. Though I hated seeing those B’s in math appear next to my perfect record of A’s in all the other subjects, I knew it was no better than I could do. I was stupid in math, and the sooner I realized it, I reasoned, the sooner I could perhaps get over this crippling anxiety and fear of failure.

But it rankled in my gut that I couldn’t do any better, and occasionally anxiety still gripped my mind again when faced with problems I just didn’t know how to do. (Example: my College Algebra midterm, in which I stared at the paper for about 10 minutes before bursting into tears. I think I hate solving for x, y, and z just a wee bit more than scrubbing tile grout with a baby-sized toothbrush.) I struggled with math as long as I had to, and as soon as my college credits for math were satisfied, I avoided it as much as possible.

These days, math and I are not on speaking terms. I imagine if I saw math coming down the street on the same sidewalk as me, I’d switch over to the other side of the road, much as I avoid the real-life bullies I went to school with. I do as little with it as I possibly can, to keep from the feelings of futility and fear that ruled me in public school and college.

(I’ve also found that other highly-technical, absolute right-or-wrong subject matters, such as dynamic website coding, sentence diagramming/explicit grammar rules, and music theory are also difficult for me. An overly-long, involved process with lots of itty-bitty, easily-mistaken steps, leading to a result that might or might not be right, seems to be the perfect recipe for a Robin meltdown. PHP, MySQL, I’m lookin’ at you. :P)

Will There Ever Be a Solution to the Math Problem?

Math still means failure, anxiety, and tears to me, and I think it always will, just as literature and music will always mean success, comfort, and smiles. Even now, I kid that my brain is just “not wired” for math, and I willingly leave mathematical operations to those who wish to do them.

However, I do not believe that there is absolutely no hope for me when it comes to math. Perhaps, if I had a very understanding teacher who could help me gain more positive psychological associations with math, I could potentially break down the centrifugal anxiety ride long enough to actually do stuff with it. The curiosity about math that I once had as a child is still there, because it’s a mental frontier I have yet to conquer; it’s, however, a frontier whose native animals have bitten and stung me more times than I care to admit. 😛

Tuesday on the Soapbox

Cage Shoes and Bootie Heels: Like Wooden Clogs, Only Weirder

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There’s a new trend in shoes that I just really don’t get: the trend of caging one’s foot in fabric or leather, either in straps or in larger pieces of fabric, that come together to ALMOST form a boot shape, but not really. I’ve seen it referred to as a “bootie heel” or a “peep-toe bootie”. I call it like I see it–a “cage shoe” or “clog.” And even real wooden clogs are not this odd.

First, we have the “cage shoe” look, in which thick straps of fabric are woven or stretched across the foot, sometimes almost-completely encasing the foot, sometimes not.


Your feet ain’t goin’ anywhere.
Now you see your foot, now you don’t
Trying to be a sandal?
Going for the woven look?

Strange cutouts in the toe area…painful to look at
Stuck between a cage sandal and a bootie wedge

Then we have the “peeptoe” bootie, which is almost-but-not-quite a full boot, except without the fabric rising above the ankle that would make the shoe actually look nicer on the leg.


It might have been cool if it was just a high-heeled ankle-high boot
Not really a “bootie,” but not really a wedge heel either. And that color combo… :/
Almost a feminine boot, but not quite

Thirdly, we have the “full-coverage” bootie, which isn’t a style of pants but a style of shoe, covering the whole foot but forgetting the flattering ankle fit.


Clogs with leopard print on them. Really?
Clunky in the front, spiky in the back–the shoe version of a mullet.

We also have the “hiking-boot” style bootie heel, which attempts to blend feminine and masculine shoe styles together…um, yeah.


Clomp, clomp, clomp.
It has Grandpa’s laces, but it matches the granddaughter’s wardrobe better.
Strange angular shape to this bootie…

Strangely over-masculine…I think it’s the leather color and the laces that makes me think that.

And lastly, we have the “backless” bootie, which might be the strangest-looking shoe of the whole bunch:


The shoe version of a backless top, I guess…?
WHAT. In the world. Is this. I don’t even.

The above photos show the variety these strange shoes come in–they are in all colors and all fabrics, and either high-heels or wedges, but they always look like a hiking boot or clog gone wrong. They manage to make even the thinnest of legs look violently cut off at the bottom of the ankle; they somehow strike a horrid balance between strange couture and vagrant chic.

Is it just me? Is it a marker of my growing-up years and my culture, that I prefer shoes that DON’T look like cement blocks made in fashionable colors? I’m not sure. All I know is that these styles don’t flatter any woman’s legs at all, and they don’t look all that comfortable, either–I’m all too familiar with how multiple straps, thin or thick, can bind swelling feet when you’re standing in heels like that. And the peep-toe cutting straight across cramped toes–ah, the red marks of pain!

Basically, these styles of shoe offend two of my long-standing rules of fashion:

  1. Wear shoes that flatter your legs, whenever possible;
  2. Wear shoes that are comfortable to your feet, whenever possible.

Comfort and style are often at odds, even for me, but even the original Crocs boat-shoe look is better than this (and more comfortable to boot–pardon the pun).

Just thought I’d share this bit of fashion weirdness and ask your opinion on this kind of footwear. Are they more comfortable than they look? Are there instances where this style actually looks good with other items of clothing?