Two things of interest have happened to me the last few days. Just two, no more.
Firstly, I have started applying for more work. For someone who NEEDS to stay at home, this isn't exactly easy, but I've spent a few hours trawling Monster and Craigs List and have applied for four freelance proofreading positions that sound hopeful. I'd really rather be doing copyediting or content writing, but unfortunately most of those positions aren't freelance or electronic. So the idea now is to secure some kind of distance proofreading job with a single company, earn some dolla dolla, and then impress them so much with my mad skillz that they're begging me to take on more work of a copyediting- or content writer-nature. Naturally, because I've only been at this for two days I'm optimistic. After a month or two I will probably have given up and decided I'm useless.
Secondly, I had a row with some rather unpleasant characters over on BritishExpats.com and managed to win the argument for once. This is pretty impressive, even for me, because normally I'm keen to keep up my oh-so-hilarious-feminist-parent vibe and don't really engage douchebags in conversations when it isn't worth it. But last night there was a 100+ post thread all about ginger hair, and it wasn't exactly saying having red hair was a blessing. On the contrary, people were posting jokes, comments, cruel vibes, and generally disgusting turns of phrases, and I just saw... well... red.
Yeah yeah yeah, having red hair is HILARIOUS. I mean look at it! It's GINGER! Ya big freak.
The thing is though, it isn't really. It's just my hair. And I can't do a thing about it, either. I could dye it, admittedly, but my freckles and pale skin would still reveal the truth, and anyway I don't think I should have to. I went through a phase in high school of dying it various shades of brown or even brighter red, but since I reached the age of 18 I've pretty much left it alone. Because actually, I quite like it. It has always made me stand out (not that I've needed any help there, playing the tuba for thirteen years and being quite gobby), but it's also made me an incredibly strong person. I mean, I've been made fun of for the colour of my hair since I was born. Yup, since the very day I was born. And I'm completely sick of it. I'm sick of the disgusting jokes made about my crotch in particular (oh, pur-lease), and I just don't think anyone has the right to say the things they do to me in such revolting ways.
It's hair. It isn't remotely funny, and now I'm at an age (and height) where I can stand up and spit at you without remorse, may I suggest you leave off the ginger jokes? The contributors to that thread on BE.com were forced to acknowledge my opinion when the mods shut it down, and I'm not in the least bit afraid to delete YOU out of my life either.
Sometimes I'm in the mood for a joke and sometimes I'm not. You'd have to know me exeptionally well to know the difference. And as Tim Minchin so aptly put it: "Only a Ginger can call another Ginger ginger".