Good Characteristics of a Murderess

Halloween: a time to dress up and be something you aren't. OR a time to dress up and show people who you really are, instead of the mask you wear year-round. Whichever suits you, this time of year also means that there are fun movies on. Hocus Pocus, Beetlejuice, Edward Scissorhands, and The Addams Family are a few of the movies that I love watching. I've watched them so many times that I quote the lines alone with the actors and geek out every time. :)

After being in a schlump for a few days, I finally caught "The Addams Family Values" on television, and that instantly improved my mood. Gomez and Morticia with their silly accents, Wednesday and Pugsley experimenting with different torture techniques, and Uncle Fester just being Uncle Fester. What caught my attention about the movie this time was Debbie Jellinsky: the nanny who marries Uncle Fester and turns out to be the Black Widow murderess. That was it. I was going to be Debbie Jellinsky for Halloween. As any other just-out-of-college kid would do, I changed my Facebook picture to one of Debbie. I thought it was funny. My friend Westley sees the picture and asks me "what the lady with the gun represents" to me. 
Then I started thinking about why I was drawn to her. What was it about Debbie Jellinsky that I could relate to? This is what I came up with.

She's smart.
Debbie knew what she was doing when she applied for the nanny position in the Addams household. She had done her research and knew that she had to convince Uncle Fester to marry her. She knew that he was awkward and juvenile, and used that to her advantage in achieving what she wanted. She didn't waltz up to the Addams mansion, and immediately expect Uncle Fester to fall in love with her. Oh no. She observed him and his habits, learned his style, and adjusted her tactics accordingly. That's smart.


Determination.
Debbie knew what she wanted and she went for it. She didn't take no for an answer. While her methods are unconventional and illegal, that does not change the fact that she was a determined woman who did whatever it took for her to reach her goals. While the thought of marrying Uncle Fester repulsed her, Debbie was determined to marry him for his fortune. She overcame the ridiculous obstacle in front of her so that she could complete her objective.


Independence.
Anyone who knows me is aware that I am independent. It makes sense that I am drawn to people who are also independent. She has spent her entire life moving from one family to another, but it has always been on her terms. She didn't wait for someone to push her aside or decide that she wasn't worth their time. No. She left the situations when they no longer suited her needs, and she moved on according to what she wanted, not what other people wanted for her.
"Malibu Barbie? Are you kidding? That's not who I was. I wanted Ballerina Barbie. I was a ballerina!"


She's Strong.
Debbie Jellinsky can totally take care of herself.While she is physically strong (i.e. being able to wield an axe, dealing with the kick of a shotgun, maneuvering all of those electric chairs), she also shows her strength as a person.  She doesn't need a man to take care of her (she just needs the man's money), she has self-confidence and doesn't care what other people think about her, and she is not afraid to be herself. She may have used unconventional methods, and she was more than likely clinically insane, but Debbie Jellinsky was definitely her own woman, and I respect her for that.
"You're mad. Absolutely bonkers. But I'll tell you a secret....all the best people are!"

So, there it is. Debbie Jellinsky may have been crazy, but I thought she had spunk. What do you think? Am I stretching by finding these positive qualities in a murderess? Am I a little crazy for thinking so much of the Black Widow? As always, I can't wait to hear what you have to say....Happy Halloween!

Looking Out for Number One

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about helping other people even when they are not able to help you in return ("It's a New Life for Me, and I'm Feeling Good"). In this post I talked about how we should be willing to help others even if it does not benefit us in any way; do a good deed, don't expect anything in return, just be nice for the sake of being nice. Well, you will not believe how many comments I've received about that particular post. So, this is my follow-up to that post. Let's see if we can get things straightened out a little, or if this only causes more confusion and comments.

I stand by what I said in the former post: we should be willing to help other people in need even if it does us no good; however, I also think that we should not enable a person in a bad situation at our own expense.

There is a difference between helping a stranger to her car because it's a shady neighborhood, dark outside, and has her hands full, and giving your only $20 for groceries for your family to the man down the street. In the first scenario, you are helping someone who is not able to return the favor, but you aren't sacrificing the well-being of yourself. In the second situation, while you would be helping a person in need, you are also sacrificing the health and needs of your family. Perhaps this is just me being selfish, but I think you should take care of yourself and of those directly under your care before you try to take care of the rest of the world. Yes, sometimes this means that you are not able to help others, but it means survival for those people closest to you.

Here's an example:
A single mother working two jobs and raising her infant daughter has managed to set a strict budget so that she can pay rent, buy groceries, and still have some free time to spend with her daughter. This woman has a friend that is struggling financially, and needs to borrow money from the single mother. My advice would be to tell the friend "Sorry, but I can't help you. I have a little girl to take care of." I might offer to help the friend in a different way (such as letting her crash at my house for a while, helping her look for a job, etc), but I would not forgo my daughter's health and security for the benefit of a friend, even.

The quote that I feel most accurately depicts my thoughts is "Being taken care of is nice; taking care of yourself is better." I know that life is rough. Everyone goes through hard times and needs help getting back on their feet in one way or another. And asking for help is acceptable. As long as you are not constantly asking for a hand-out. Maybe it is my stubbornness, or just my independent side, but I honestly believe that most people should be able to take care of themselves in everyday circumstances. I grew up in a house that didn't have a lot of money, but we always had what we needed. We didn't ask for other people to help us with our money troubles, but instead figured out what we could live without. I think it is absolutely ridiculous for someone to accept help with buying groceries or paying rent (the basic amenities for life) when they are perfectly able to buy a new flat-screen TV, or spend their entire paycheck on alcohol. I would seriously be embarrassed of myself to ask for any one's help in that sort of situation. I do not have the latest technology, I purchase my clothes from consignment shops, and I buy generic brand cereal. But I am taking care of myself. I'm not asking other people to take care of me because it's more convenient.

I suppose that I have gone on a tangent in this post, and I'm sorry about that. But I'm not sorry for what I said. While I believe that we should be willing to help out another person in need, I also think that we need to think about our actions, and be willing to put ourselves (and our families) before the needs of others. Also, don't be one of those people that asks for help all the time, gets other people to do the hard work for you, and then just skate by. Grow up. Learn how to take care of yourself and don't push that responsibility off to someone else.

Once again, I can't wait to hear what you have to say about this post. Am I being unrealistic for thinking that people should be able to support themselves? Do you think that I am heartless for saying that you need to take care of yourself and your family before trying to help everyone else? Do my explanations make sense, or do you think that I am contradicting myself by saying to help people when it will not benefit you, but that sometimes you have to look out for number one? Let me know what you think.

If You're Going to Insult Me At Least Get Creative!

This is one of those posts where I am frustrated by something happening. There may be parts that are entertaining (where if you saw me giving this rant in person you would stand back and wait for me to explode), but this isn't really a "funny" post. Just a heads up.

I know that name-calling is part of every person's life. It is a way of belittling the person you are arguing with, and making them feel inferior so that you can win the fight. I understand this, and know that it serves a function (enjoy Sociology friends); however, there are certain names that I absolutely hate being called. Actually, I can only think of one name that I absolutely hate being called: bitch. (I hate this word so much that I will not use it in the rest of this post.)

I've had my fair share of disagreements (because apparently I'm stubborn. Who knew?!"). Some ended with both parties agreeing to disagree, some where one person changed his mind, but there were also those fights where the other person became belligerent, wouldn't listen to reason, and started name-calling. As soon as he got to the point where he was slinging insults, you can bet that one of the first words coming out of his mouth was "B". Now, I think it is sad that this specific term is the go-to insult when arguing with, or describing a woman. It's so generic, tells the audience nothing specific about her actions, only that the person opposite this woman disagrees with whatever she is doing. Maybe if people gave more accurate descriptions of why they don't like the woman they're talking to, I could more readily understand the issues. But simply yelling that she is a Queen Bee will only make me think less of you, not her.

Maybe this is one of those times where I am not the average woman; maybe other women prefer this single-word insult as opposed to a several-word description of their faults. I'm not sure why this term drives me so crazy, but I genuinely hate when people use it, especially against me!

Now that we've established that I am not like the average woman...

I would literally rather be hit than for someone to call me a "witch." Honestly. Take a swing at me, try your luck at giving me a black eye, but don't use THAT word. I know how to defend myself against an opponent trying to hit me: I can block their attack, I can hit back, and I can guarantee that my adversary will be in more pain than I was. I don't really have that when responding to people calling me a Wench. When people use that word as a weapon, it throws me into a stupor and I am literally shocked at their ignorance. I know that I cannot come up with an adequate insult to throw at them because they will not be as offended by my words as I am at theirs, and that makes me angry. I know that my verbal skills are not the best weapon in my arsenal, so my immediate response when I get SO angry is to use my strength and feisty fighting tactics; however, before I have the chance to act on those "FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!" urges, reason kicks in and reminds me that it's illegal to go around beating people (even if I think I have a good reason for it). My desire to stay out of jail has kept me from pulverizing a few people, so when an argument gets to this point I have to make myself walk away from the situation. Of course, since I was not exactly able to defeat my opponent (at least in the way I wanted), later when I see him I imagine that my eyes are lasers and every time I blink I am wounding him the same way that his word hurt me.

Now, the ideal solution would be for people to not fight; however, I'm realistic and know that will never happen. So, what I'm asking is that if you're going to insult me at least get creative. I will respect you more if you call me a string of graphic and expressive slurs instead of the one-word retort mentioned earlier.
Also, if, after reading this post, you feel the need to push the boundaries and call me a Queen Bee, be prepared for me to deck you with everything I have. I might be a "little bitty white girl," but I have a mean Right Cross.

Thus ends the rant.

The Philosophy Creeper

It's time for one of my "Only Katelyn" stories.
Periodically, I will share stories of experiences that have actually happened to me. They may seem unbelievable, but I promise that I can't make these things up. I am nowhere near that creative. So, without further delay, this is the story of my Philosophy Creeper.

My last semester of college I was enrolled in an upper-level philosophy class. Let me make it perfectly clear that I was not a philosophy major, minor, or anything of the sort. It just so happened that the class fit my schedule, had enough credit hours so I could graduate on time, and I was fortunate enough to have a friend who was getting his Doctorate degree in Philosophy to help me out if I was having trouble. (Thanks Joshua, I would have been in serious trouble with that class if it hadn't been for you!) Anyway, this is a ridiculously difficult class, with a professor that gets sidetracked and drones on about off the wall topics, and just happens to be in the time slot right before lunch (that time when you have been awake for 6 hours and are getting sleepy, but can't focus because you are so hungry). Needless to say, this class was not the easiest for me to pay attention in, but I was determined to do my best. Even with 18 sleeping students, a teacher that sounds like Charlie Brown's teacher when he talks, and me being eternally exhausted, I was bound and determined to get a good grade in this philosophy class.

One day, towards the beginning of the semester, in an attempt to stay awake and pay attention, I turned around in my desk. I thought if I popped my back and moved a little that I would wake up and be more attentive. (Plus, I wanted to see who was snoring in the back of the class. haha!) When I was turned around and stretching, I noticed that another student was awake; the basketball player sitting behind me diagonally was awake and doodling on his notebook. I thought, "He found a way to keep himself occupied and awake. Drawing. Good for him."
...That's when curiosity got the best of me...
Whether it was an attempt to get my mind back to a solid (instead of the grey mush that was dripping out of my ears from being so bored in class) or me simply being nosy, I wanted to see what the basketball player was drawing. So, I looked. My first thought was that he was a pretty good artist. He was drawing some girl, and it was a really good picture. Then I realized that the girl he was drawing was me. "Maybe you're just imagining that he is drawing you. Yeah, that's it," I thought. So I looked again. Yep, it was definitely me that he was drawing. Believe it or not, this didn't freak me out. I assumed that the basketball player was just really bored and drawing me because I was the only other person awake in class. I just shrugged it off as a one time thing.
That is where I was wrong.
After knowing that he had drawn me once before, I was compelled to see who or what the basketball player was drawing the next day in class. Because this is an "Only Katelyn" story, I bet you can guess who he was drawing. That's right, me again. I guess I am an interesting person to draw because this guy would draw me every time he was in class. Literally every time. He would draw me as if he was looking at me from different angles, he would draw me so that I was standing up and other times sitting at my desk. He drew beauty shots of me (where the only thing in the picture was my face and shoulders) and he drew couture pictures of me (as if I were wearing elegant gowns, (which I never wore to class, so he was getting really creative here!)). He dedicated a few pages to drawing only my face: sometimes I was serious-looking, sometimes I was smiling, and once I was smirking. Then there were the days that he brought in colored pencils to amp up his artwork; he used a specific blue pencil to add coloring when drawing my very unique ring (so there is no chance that I am imagining it is me he's sketching). Another day he used pencils in shades of blue and a touch of green when he drew my eyes on his notebook instead of taking notes over Immanuel Kant. This guy was definitely paying attention to details.

Now, this might not sound bad to some people. And it wouldn't have creeped me out so bad if it hadn't been for one thing: the guy never talked to me. Not once. We sat next to each other in class every day for 4 months, and he drew me each day, but he never said one word to me. He filled half a notebook with pictures of me, but never said "Hi." (Of course, it didn't help the creep-factor that he drew me EVERY SINGLE DAY!)

One day, about halfway through the semester, I thought about letting him know that I had seen him drawing me, and that I thought he was talented. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. He never knew that I had seen him sketching me.
Towards the end of the semester, I decided that I was going to ask him for one of the pictures of me; I figured that he wouldn't mind losing one picture out of dozens, and like I said, they were pretty good pictures. I wanted a souvenir! But as luck would have it, the artist did not show up on the last day of classes, so I never got the chance.

What do you think: Am I being paranoid and making too big of a deal out of this? Does anyone else think it's creepy that this guy drew me everyday for four months, yet never talked to me (even though there were several opportunities)? Would you have had the courage to talk to him and let him know that you'd seen the sketches he had of you? As always, let me know what you think. I can't wait to see what you have to say about this situation.