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I’ll just say it. I hate Operation Beautiful. I hated it when I was in college, and had to listen to a friend talk about what an awesome article it was going to be for her section in the school paper, and I haven’t warmed to it since.

For those who don’t know, Operation Beautiful is a movement which encourages women to leave post it notes in bathrooms to help other people’s self esteem.

I began Operation Beautiful by leaving positive messages on the mirrors of public restrooms — at work, at the gym, at the grocery store. I scribble down whatever comes to mind — “You are beautiful!” or “You are amazing just the way you are!” My personal goal is to leave as many Operation Beautiful notes as I can. Maybe some people read them and just smile, but I bet some people are truly touched by the effort of a random stranger.

(x)

First off, I don’t see why this is effective. I don’t doubt the sincerity of what is trying to be accomplished here, but some random stranger who probably has never seen me and with whom I will never interact leaving a note telling me I am beautiful is never going to do anything for me. Essentially, by this logic, I am beautiful because I am female and use the same restroom as you. Kind of the same way I totally expect my fortune cookie to always be an accurate predictor of my future.

I understand, yes, beauty is subjective, and yes, the majority of people will be beautiful to at least one or two people. But at the same time, I reject the idea that beauty is an ideal that people should consider the be-all and end-all to their self worth. In the same way that, as a fat person, I don’t want notes on bathroom mirrors telling me “You are skinny!” Sure, it may make a few people who are feeling slightly down about their weight feel better, but it just masks the problem. Beauty, when most people talk about it, has little to do what is inside. So what?

(Tangent: I hate that phrase, “beauty is on the inside.” It just feels like a cop-out for people who aren’t willing to call someone ugly or average. And what is wrong with being average? Most people are. And what’s wrong with being ugly? Absolutely nothing. Be who you are, and don’t let anyone tell you that you need makeup, or a diet, or a certain kind of clothing to be the perfect you.)

Why is being pretty such a big deal? It’s just another thing that people are. Personally, I am a lot of things, and I don’t count being pretty among them. And you know what? I find that to be quite excellent. When I tell someone they’re pretty, I am saying it because I mean it, not because I feel like I have to or they’re going to feel bad. I wouldn’t tell Stephenie Meyer I think she’s a good writer just because it would be the polite thing to do. I wouldn’t tell Gerard Way his voice has the same amazing tonality as Tom Waits’s. People are different. Beauty is just one of those things, like being able to pick up music easily, or to write well, or be able to do the moonwalk.

When I gave up feeling like I had to be beautiful, it freed me up to appreciate my face and body in a way I’d never been able to before. My face may not match up to anyone’s definition of beautiful, but it is interesting enough to appease me, and I’m not embarrassed to be in photos anymore. My body may not be society’s definition of attractive, but I like it well enough.

My point is: being beautiful is not the ideal. Rocking whatever skills you have available to you is.

So, if you end up going to a bathroom and see a note along the lines of: “You may be pretty, you may not be. Be who you are and own it”, you’ll know I was there.

Not unrelatedly: this.

So, something revolutionary has been introduced into my life, and that thing is Piperka.

People who have known me for a long length of time know that I used to be quite an avid webcomic reader. However, due to a series of unfortunate events (growing up, getting busier, going to college, my computer getting stolen, waka waka waka) I gradually stopped reading them until the only two comics I even sporadically read were xkcd and a softer world. Over the summer, I found a few good webcomics, and started reading them, mostly from the beginning. To check to see if there were updates, I’d do the normal thing and select one or more from my bookmarks.

Thanks to this amazing tutorial by the ever talented Jisuk (it’s not name dropping if the dude’s legitimately awesome, is it?), I can now view the webcomics I read in a logical fashion. And I don’t have to make sure I bookmark them on my netbook as well as my desktop. Totally excellent.

If you took the time to actually read the tutorial I linked above, you probably saw the comic used as an example was Hanna Is Not A Boy’s Name. I read it, and it really reminded me of the feeling I had that my vampire novel (from two years ago, now) really would have been better if it was written as a comic. So, I’m planning to start work on that as soon as Nano is over. Even if I suck at drawing. Woop the woop. More details will be forthcoming.

In the meantime, if you haven’t yet read Questionable Content, go do so. Immediately.

My Chemical Romance’s new single SING may become my favorite song by them. As amazing as Na Na Na is, this song is just s heartfelt and passionate.

Yes. I’m sorry. And no. I don’t think I ever will be done talking about My Chemical Romance.

In other news, Pink continues to be strangely awesome.

So, the cold open of The Office this week (where Stanley drinks Jim’s orange juice and doesn’t notice) reminded me of my history. Back in the day, I hated coffee with a passion. Shocking, I know. Eventually I got over it, mostly because I found a place to get super cheap coffee that had more caffeine than soda. Being the thrifty college student I was, I overcame my aversion and forced myself to drink it. And now I can’t get enough of the stuff.

But that’s not the point of this blog post. The point of this post is that for years I pretended to like coffee. I’m not 100% sure why, but I think it’s because I’ve always been really picky about food, and it was really embarrassing to have yet another thing that I didn’t like. It might be dumb and dorky, but drinking coffee is almost a social norm. I mean, you don’t ask a date to go get a cola with you. (Well, theoretically. I actually might.) To combat this, I devised some methods of making it seem like I drank coffee without ever having to touch the stuff.

Get a coffee cup, preferably a reusable one with a lid. You can put whatever the heck you want in there. I used to come to work all the time with a mug filled with orange juice or some sort of tea. Just make sure you close the lid when you’re not drinking, and badaboom. Instant coffee cred.

Put soda/grape juice in a coffee mug. Actually any dark colored beverage will work. This one’s great after there’s been a party and there’s still three bottles of Coke in the fridge (did this happen at anyone else’s work?). No one, unless they’re some sort of psycho coffee-poser detective, is going to run around sniffing your drink to make sure it’s actually real coffee. And, once the foam goes away, cola does look an awful lot like coffee.

Order hot chocolate, just so you can come to work/class/wherever with a coffee cup from the local starbucks/gas station/laundromat that serves coffee.

Order a latte. This one’s more for people who are going out for coffee with someone. I know it involves coffee, but the taste is nowhere near as strong as straight coffee, and you can sip at it while you talk.

Never ever own up to disliking coffee. If you’re going out for coffee, order hot chocolate or tea and just say “I don’t really feel like coffee today.”

Granted, there’s really no reason other than minuscule (and occasional) social stigma to ever fake drinking coffee. But, that’s never stopped me from trying to be cool. (Yes. Coolness is relational to coffee consumption.)

So, for the 3rd (real) time, (last year doesn’t count) I’m attempting National Novel Writing Month. This month I’ve been reading a few books to get me in the mood for what I want to write. So far I’ve read:

• Behemoth by Scott Westerfeld
• Waifs and Strays by Charles de Lint
• The Circus And Victorian Society by Brenda Assael
• Bloody Jack by L.A. Meyer

This may be my weirdest NaNo yet, and my first year I wrote about a 6 foot tall green one-eyed mutant. I can’t wait.