#msmenna

I also adore period pieces. Jane Austen is my favorite author and I am still having an internal debate as to whether I prefer Pride & Prejudice or Persuasion.

Having said this, I just followed back a number of people who followed me, only to find half of them are interested in some sort of weird sexual relationship on tumblr.

PLEASE do not message me with this nonsense.

I always rooted for Ross & Rachel. Loved them together.

Response to attacks today due to my comment and photo of model who flirted with SH on Instagram.  This is my reply to cricketjames:

First, I never compared myself to Jess.  I, actually, think she is a sweetheart who didn’t deserve the abuse she got today (or does any day) for speaking her mind and was joking that my being in the hot seat might be distracting some from attacking her.  

You do know what a joke is, right?  

I would like to address all the comments (insults) you made in your post (lecture) but since I could barely get through your rant because of eye strain, I’ll limit myself to those I found most offensive.

Let’s start with your lovely opening paragraph:

“First things first. Get over yourself. You don’t get to post pictures like the ones you did with the comments you did and then pretend like they don’t exist just because you’re “tired of looking at them”. You posted it, and like they say - the internet is forever, so have fun looking at it as many times as people care to reblog and reply and repost. “

If anyone needs to get over themselves, it is you.  Where do you come off telling me what I can and cannot do?  I am going to reply to this post and leave my initial posting and comments in this thread up. That is it.  I have asked that anyone who wants to discuss this topic messages me so that I don’t have to have this woman’s photos covering my entire blog.  I have the right to delete whatever I want to.  Yes, the internet is forever.  So is my “delete” button.  

I am wondering at this moment if I have ever had the misfortune of having to respond to someone as condescending as you. I think not. Perhaps you are used to bullying teenagers on tumblr.  I’m not one so you can flex your muscles elsewhere.  I’m not impressed or intimidated.

Since it seems you (and a lot of others) are basically accusing me of doing my best to set the feminist movement back a decade or two, I guess I am going to have to explain the point I was making in my post and why I said anything at all.  I had read some comments regarding the Instagram exchange last night between the model and SH stating that the conversation that took place between them was not a big deal. It clearly was to a lot of people in the fandom and I, myself, found it upsetting because of the flirtatious nature of it.

I’ve always enjoyed the flirting between CB and SH as it is part of what makes their relationship special.  The conversation I read last night on Instagram (which was not private) negated that.  SH has every right to flirt with whoever he wants and the model who initiated the exchange can post her nude photos on milk cartons if that makes her happy.  They both are adults and don’t need my permission to do so.  I haven’t judged her.  I haven’t judged him, either, though his behavior has disappointed me. That is my problem, not his. Having said this, I am a firm believer that although you cannot judge a book by its cover, it does play a part in whether or not you pick that book up.

If RM (model) is the book, I did not find the cover appealing or tastefully done. That is my opinion. In stating it, I am not saying she is bad, a slut, wrong to dress that way, a bad mother, etc.  I’m just saying I don’t find the cover tasteful. Clearly SH does not agree with me as he found the cover of the book so appealing, that he decided to check it out.  The point I was making in my initial post was that the model presents herself half dressed to get attention from men like SH. I judge that is the case. Unless you can read RM’s mind, I don’t see how you can prove that I am wrong.  And since you can’t, perhaps you should remain silent on the subject.

As for the photos I found, don’t you find it odd that so many of them are of her barely dressed?  I find personal photos to be a form of expression.  I have a few of my own on the internet.  One on website where I am sitting behind a desk dressed in business attire. Obvious conclusion.  I have some on Facebook.  If you look through them, I think you would leave the page with a pretty clear impression of who I am as I am an open book.

Sometimes, impressions can be misleading, wrong.  But unless you get to personally know the subject, the impression you get from their photo or something they have said sticks.  That is human nature.  Case in point are the bloggers who believe from my comment that I am against women’s rights and that I think anyone who dresses skimpily is immoral.  Not so.  I do, however, think that women who dress provocatively do so for a reason. One reason is to get attention from men. Again, just my opinion.                        

Getting back to your commentary (diatribe), I am not the self-appointed morality police monitoring the internet or anyone’s actions.  That doesn’t mean I don’t have morals or know the difference between appropriate and inappropriate behavior. Perhaps I’m old school. I like romance, not smut.  I would rather women and men leave a little to the imagination.  That’s my prerogative.  Isn’t it?  Or does everyone have to conform to your way of thinking?

I’m not liberal. No surprise there.  But I’m fair. I’d say a hell of a lot more so than you (or many others who have attacked me today) because I have not attacked anyone on tumblr or anywhere else because they don’t share my beliefs.  I’m not a victim.  Hate the word!  The only victims in my eyes are those who are too young or old to defend themselves (including poor animals who are at our mercy).  I am none of the above.  

It is getting late.  I’ve been stating my case for hours and I’m tired.  So, I’ll finish by addressing this:

I said, “All I know about this woman is what she has told me by her words and actions.”

Your comment: “She tells you things by her actions? You personally. Through the magical box that holds the internet? I wasn’t aware you were in tune with the inner workings of every single photo shoot she does.”

Ever hear the adage, “Actions speak louder than words.”  I believe they do.

This woman made a comment about her having a problem because of her fictitious relationship with Jamie Fraser. The comment was made under what I would consider a provocative picture of her in little clothing. SH addresses her problem and the two flirt back and forth (along with fan commentary between their witty remarks) until someone wisely pulls the plug.

How do I know the woman isn’t innocent?  Do you need definition of word?  Okay, here goes:

•  Free from moral wrong; not corrupted.

synonyms: virtuous, pure, moral, decent, righteous, upright, wholesome

Based on RM’s flirting with SH while she is either married or has a boyfriend ( I thought the latter, but I guess I stand corrected), the attire she chose to wear in presenting herself to those on Instagram and SM in general, and the comments she made during her conversation with SH (an example is that American women all know how to blow a bagpipe), I’m going to go out on a limb and say she is not “innocent.” That doesn’t mean she is bad.  It just means she isn’t what I would call an “innocent” person.  Don’t have a seizure.  Most people aren’t.  Even me.

In closing, I am sorry that my comments have been misinterpreted.  When I made the comment, “Is this woman capable of having an innocent conversation?” it was clearly sarcastic and meant to be witty. I am sure she has innocent conversations with men, women and children all the time. Just as I’m sure her conversation with SH was not. I wasn’t attacking her. I don’t admire her, but I was definitely not attacking her.  

I think, too, there are a lot of women on tumblr who agree with my observations and comments but are afraid to speak up because they don’t want to deal with the crap I have today.

I am taking all but one of the threads down. If you want to respond, do so in message.  Otherwise, it is just getting deleted.  I am hoping I never see these photos again.  

This is a one shot that I posted on FF in the Spring.  It is rated “M” (and not for Mary or Matthew) so please use discretion in reading.  

This tale gives you a glimpse of Mary’s state of mind not long after Matthew’s return in a nightmare she has that leads to passion and heartfelt revelations from both husband and wife.

In case anyone is wondering, Matthew is alive and recuperating in The London Hospital in Whitechapel.  Though he has no clue who he is, his personality is still that of a amiable and kind chap who men find agreeable and woman. irresistible. 

This is the solicitor from Manchester turned heir apparent’s fourth journal entry in “Patient #9”.  You can read the rest of the story here: 

 https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10641963/1/Patient-9-Matthew-Crawley

November 5th, 1921

At last I have broken free of the invisible ties that bound me to my hospital bed this past week and have rejoined the living. When Nurse Pomeroy discovered me sitting in the Common Room this morning flipping through the pages of the Daily Express, she smiled and exclaimed, “Alleluia!”

It pains me to record that it took five days of relentless pleading and no small amount of bullying on her part to pull me out of the doldrums. Sadly, the gratitude and hope that I felt at the start of this journal has been fleeting. Dr. Head advised me that depression goes hand in hand with amnesia and not easily kept at bay no matter how diligent your efforts.

Looking back to the onset of my melancholy, I can see that it stemmed from pure sadness and frustration; sadness that I have a wife that is foreign to me (as so much else is) and frustration that the sight of my belongings did not produce the desired result.

I must admit that though I did my utmost to curb my expectations that day, I did hold out hope that all would become clear to me once I held a tangible part of my past in my hands. Now I ask myself what is my recourse? Should I squash any hope of my returning to the life I led? I am finding it difficult to navigate this fine line between optimism and despair. Yet I know that I must if I am to avoid the despondency that enveloped me these last few days.

I am a fortunate man as I can count on Nurse Pomeroy’s vigilance and intervention, if necessary, in order to keep me from drowning in my own sorrows. This tiny woman, who appears no older than 25, has a commanding presence. And she makes no bones about what she will and will not tolerate from those in her charge. Defeatism is at the top of her list of the “unacceptable” and she works tirelessly to keep it out of this ward. I have pondered on more than one occasion what is her driving force and today I found my answer.

My dedicated nurse is a war widow. Her husband was badly wounded at the Somme and died two weeks later of septicemia, a likely result of the filthy conditions that existed in the field hospital where his right leg was amputated. During the two weeks that her husband lingered on in France, the letters he wrote to her often included praise for the nurses who made his remaining time on this earth bearable. Upon learning of his death, Nurse Pomeroy picked up the mantle of the unsung heroes that provided comfort to the man she loved when he needed it most.

This information was relayed to me while she went about her task of stripping the linens (that I had denied her access to in the past 4 days) with alacrity as I sat in the “visitor’s chair” stationed far enough from my bed to allow her free movement. I offered her my sympathy for her loss and she responded by requesting that I call her by her Christian name, which is Lilian, whenever Dr. Head was out of earshot. She added that she hoped we could be friends, a request that was completely unnecessary since I considered her one already. I subsequently agreed to address her as Lilian going forward as I reasoned it would not be considered an intimacy when I would not be alone in doing so.

I have heard other patients in the ward address her in this manner when Dr. Head is ostensibly out of hearing range or when he appears to be pretending he is (possibly to avoid addressing any impropriety?) One such patient is Henry Wheeler, the chap I mentioned earlier who is beset by bouts of nausea. Even though Henry isn’t assigned exclusively to Lilian, as the head nurse of the ward, she has interaction with all housed here. I have enjoyed spending time with Henry (when he is not availing himself of the dreaded metal basin) as he is a very personable young man. With skin as white as his bed linens, wavy red hair and a welcoming smile to all despite any personal discomfort he may be dealing with, Henry is a good-natured chap that is well-liked by many including Lilian.

No sooner had I familiarized myself with her name than it sprang from my lips in an ear piercing shriek (as Henry relayed to me after the incident) during what is medically termed a night terror. Doctor Head has explained that this is a nightmare of sorts where the person experiencing it may appear awake and is extremely agitated but, in fact, is till unconscious and cannot be woken easily. It is common to those who have suffered head trauma. During this night terror, Henry, as well as the rest of the patients in my ward had their sleep disrupted by my loud and ongoing outburst.

Though her scheduled hours had ended, Lilian had fortunately not yet left the hospital. Once she heard me crying out her name, she rushed to my bedside. I remember nothing of my night terror and was quite surprised upon waking to find Lilian’s small hands gripping my upper arms like a vice and Henry bent over my body peering intently into my eyes.

In a cold sweat and confused state I heard Henry’s question reverberate throughout the room, “Who in the bloody hell is William?”

I looked to Lilian as I had no clue what Henry meant and she informed me that she found me with my eyes wide open screaming out the same question over and over again: “Is William dead?”