Mixing it up a little

I love otters. Apparetly so do the female visitors at this zoo.

Misogynist Propaganda?

Note: The title of this blog comes from the title of an article I read as a pre-teen in Sassy magazine about PMS. The phrase has been burned into my memory and still plays a role in how I think about things. I also thought of titling this entry "Don't f-- with my body, Don't f-- with my brain."

I wanted to rant a little about 2 things related to the Science & Sociology surrounding women's body systems and add my wtf?!

Science and the media tell me my eggs are rotting.
Well, not exactly. These little voices are telling me that if I wait too long to have children, there is a small chance I will not be able to conceive naturally. Nevermind these 60+ year old women who are having children through IVF (I have a different issue with them), there are stories upon stories about how having children over 35 is risky: miscarriage, premature babies, endometriosis, Down syndrome. I keep telling myself, Dammit, Madonna was able to do it naturally (I think)--So can I, if I wanted. The good news is that the majority of healthy (e.g. non-smoker, getting your vitamns and exercise) women over 35 have successful pregnancies. So how much of this stuff is put out there to tell women to have children before age 30? It might just be me because it seems like everyone and their mother is telling me to get married and have children already. (See my comment from Julia's previous post.) BTW, there is also an increased chance of having twins if having children in your late 30's.

"The FDA has approved Lybrel, the first low-dose contraceptive pill that gives women an option to stop their menstrual cycle for an indefinite period of time."
As annoying as menstruation can be, this feels wrong. Like there should be suspense-building music in this part of the horror movie, wrong. The birth control part I'm ok with... the science of the pill has been around for over 40 years. And birth control has been around for a lot longer. Don't think I didn't notice that there was only one woman from the drug company quoted in the article: Ginger Constantine, Wyeth's vice president of Women's Health Care and Bone Repair. WTF? VP of what and what? Did they run out of money and thus had to combine two categories? Anyway, this just seems like another product for women, invented by men. I guess they do work. I mean, I use tampons and they have made my life easier. Soooo.. if you're down with the ability to control and regulate your own period, it should be available for prescription July 2007. I'm not signing up for this one just yet.


One more thing, have a healthy cervix day! That reminds me: I have to schedule my check up.

... Horse and Carriage?

Note: Julia has written this muddled, convoluted post with no real point in response to the recent concise and meaningful posts about marriage by Taberlykim and Simone. She thinks that by prefacing said post with a note she can get away with having no real point. Read at your own risk.

Like most women my age (with 30 just beginning to loom), I think about marriage - not because I am planning to get married (I favor elopement, anyway) but I think about it lately because I live in Japan where the concept of marriage is rather different from the concept we have in America. Though the Japanese usually choose their own marriage partners, the woman still often quits her job upon getting married, even if she doesn't plan to have children for a few years. Follows next; housekeeping and bento box making. Some of my male students, when I ask them what their wives do, will loftily reply, "Oh, she's just a housewife." In Japan, the glamour career of choice for young women is that of the airline stewardess. A friend explained to me that airline stewardessing seems so appealing because a) it offers a chance to travel and b) it offers a chance to meet husbands. I sometimes ask my male students what they think of working mothers - each one I've asked (regardless of age) has put on a sour face and said it was a bad idea - after all, who would take care of the child? Yes, God forbid a grown man should clean a diaper or fix a lunch. In contrast, a few women I've asked about working mothers said they think they're cool, but when asked to explain why their reasons had to do with money rather than female equality.

This system works for them and I have no right to criticize what other cultures do; I'm here to teach the Japanese English, not female emancipation. I'm fully aware that the American system is similarly preposterous to them and probably a few of my students would like to give me a stern 101 on being a respectable woman. When I think about it, the mainstream Japanese system of marriage probably unsettles me mostly because it reminds me of what love-based marriages evolved from; a contract between families, legalized to protect the interests of the male. Over much time, marriage in our society (and many other societies) became, instead, a legalization of a romantic bond - the bride became a lover, a soulmate, a best friend, a potential mother. This is a beautiful idea. The romantic ideal of love in a marriage came before female emancipation - in the West (and more recently in parts of Asia) men and women began to revolt against being given to people. They wanted to live their lives with someone they actually were suited to live with. This idea went down like gangbusters, but it took a lot longer in North America for women to be seen as equal to the man in a marriage. Depending on one's view, the North American system can be seen as encompassing the best of all worlds - love, family and equality. Yet, in North American marriage, women still take their husband's names (a custom begun because the property - or the bride - was changing hands from her father's family to her new husband's). They also very often wear white, even though the fact is widely known that white dresses were worn as symbol of purity to show the new husband the quality of the good he was getting. When I think about those things, it makes me feel that I don't want to get married, i.e., perpetuate those customs, even if the current feeling towards marriage is that it's a beautiful, romantic thing. As Taberlykim mentioned, it is often viewed the pinnacle of a romantic relationship. I know a lot of people who feel that it's not worth dating someone if you can't see yourself marrying them - they feel it's not worth the bother. I come from the "life experience" school - I see the idiots who paid for dinner with a gift certificate and showed up hungover as helpful; they reminded me of what I didn't want and what I wouldn't stand for in a mate. Yes, I said "mate" - though I bristle at the reasons behind customs in today's American marriages I, too, wouldn't mind finding somebody I can grow old with and, perhaps, love enough to want to start a family with. But does that bond really need to be made legal?

Advantages to getting married in today's society:

-the legalization process protects your assets (nothing more romantic than protecting one's assets!)
-relatives and friends shut the hell up***
-said marriage provides an excuse to throw an awesome party and wear a pretty dress
-the gnawing, secret nerves that your mate didn't respect you enough to make you "honest" are quelled
-any resulting children will have a stable environment to grow up in. Assuming, of course, that the marriage lasts.

***a potential deal maker right there

Simone is right - young feminists in the year 2007 still face enormous amounts of outside and internal pressure regarding marriage. Marriage is still viewed as a natural part of life - and let's face it, regardless of their origin, the accompanying customs can be extremely appealing (for the record, I like wedding favors I can eat). I sometimes think the women who began the Feminist movement were more liberated than my generation is - I know of couples in their 50s who have been together (but unmarried) for over 20 years but almost all of my married friends took their husbands' names and were champing at the bit to tie that knot.

Or buy that dress. Whichever.

word of the day!

SELF-DETERMINATION
self-de·ter·mi·na·tion, n.
-Determination of one's own fate or course of action without compulsion; free will.
-The capacity to manage one's own affairs, make one's own judgments, and provide for oneself.

as someone who values independence, i must say that this is one of my very favorite words in the english language. it kicks me in the pants whenever i need a little boost! i'm all about it.

[my] Life's big Questions

I spent the night with one of my best friends and her husband last night. After dinner at Souplantation and internet shopping for bathing suits and Spanx, she laid it on me: the hard questions about my relationship.
- So how long are you going to hold out/on until you say, "Shit or get off the pot."
- If you are not the center of his life now, after almost 6 years, will you ever be?
- How long is he going to string you along before he makes up his mind?
- What the hell are you waiting for?

Last year, these questions occupied my thought, initiated by my own mind. Within the past year I have decided that more important than wedding vows to me was sharing my life with my man. If that meant he needed more time, then I'd give it. If it meant I needed to hot pass on the familial pressure to get married, then I'd oblige. I felt freeing and I have been less worried about it...

Then the questions rear their ugly heads, again. And if anyone mentions that damn book, He's Just Not That Into You by Greg Behrendt I will cry. I read it and I hate it. A man wrote it and who cares if he was a writer on Sex in the City.

I will always prefer the freedom of knowing over the freedom that comes from overlooking or forgetfulness.

Answering questions with questions: What have others done in my situation? What should I be asking myself to determine my decision? Why do people so many people see marriage as the ultimate goal of a relationship?

who's gonna love me the way that i am?

TMI @ the Spa

I'm writing this post as a result of two things that I have been dying to do:
(1) Write an introductory post on this blog and
(2) Tell someone what happened to me last Tuesday.

So... hello! and Simone, thanks for providing this wonderful space for feminist expression. Number one, check.

Number two: When I say what happened to me, I do not intend to play the victim or infer that the action that took place was unwarranted or that I was wholly unprepared. But it means that I was--and still am--in amazement and wonder about it. (Now that I have built up a reasonable amount of suspense, the revelation will be anticlimatic.) But anyway, I got my first bikini wax.

Do not read on if you want to be spared the details.

Since it was my first and I needed to find someone/someplace with a good reputation I asked around, did a web search and put it off for several months. I eventually found Jodi and Queen Bee Waxing. Let's go back a few steps... what would compel me to do such a thing? This is not a subject I have talked too much about with my girlfriends or with anyone for that matter. Only one had mentioned that she got a Brazilian last year and she was pleased with the results. I guess that now, after spending a week being more than 90% hairless, I can see where she is coming from. The initial impetus for the wax was the desire to be less self-conscious during swimsuit season. Since learning how to swim a couple years ago, I have been afraid of exposing my special hairs creeping out like spiders while hanging out at the pool or beach. Yes, they are natural. Yes, every adult woman has (or can have) them. But something about other people's pubic hair is disgusting to me. Maybe it's a threat of an STD--is this real or irrational? Anyway, it was a big deal to me. Nevermind about the sex possibly being better or the desire, in any way, to please my partner. To me, it was all about hygiene... and vanity.

Back to the spa... don't worry, I'll try to keep it polite and not to get into the explicit details. But anyway, I drove up to the salon in Culver City and was promptly greeted by Jodi. (You can read more about her on the Queen Bee Waxing website.) After a few minutes, she escorted me to a back room that resembled a mix between a doctor's exam room and a massage therapist's room. Usually in either of the aforementioned settings, the practitioner leaves the room for you to disrobe. But of course, this place and procedure is special. Jodi, in her lingering British accent, instead says, "Don't be shy. Just take off your bottoms." Already, I know it's going to be "like that." I went to an all-women's college so I was used to "like that." The natural upfront-ness and frankness of female to female interaction. The attitude that reassures me that the bikini wax should not be as strange or awkward as I was expecting, but rather technical and straight-forward. Just get on the padded table (covered in white doctor's paper) and spread 'em as I would at the gyno. It was so quick. Everyone who has commented about Queen Bee waxing mentions Jodi's skill and speed. 15 minutes after I stepped into the salon, I walked out with Jodi describing that Asian women are lucky to not have as much hair down there and that I probably don't have to come back for another month. [I start to feel bad for women who have more down there...] We hug (because we're now on that level of intimacy) and I leave, only just beginning to feel the sting.

The shock and awe probably more stems from having not discussed it with others who have done it, and NOT the actual waxing experience. I was embarrased and ashamed to bring it up. AND I didn't want to gross anyone out. What was I to do? I think this feeling is related to the Vagina Monologue discourse about loving your labia, et al. in all it splendor but geez. How does a woman burst through all that society has taught her about how disgusting her vagina is, outside of mustering up the courage to talk about her adventures with her V. I guess that's just what we have to do.

The sting is all gone and there have been no adverse reactions. Still, I have to see in a few months whether I will go back to see Jodi. The pain was worth it, but was the $45?

Thanks for allowing the space for this indulgence. Please feel free to comment and explain to me whether I should or should not be concerned about peeping stray hairs or other perceived un-niceties.

supermarkets ain't so super...food for thought (yes, cliches suck...sorry!)

When I was young, I had a deep penchant for grocery shopping. Nothing thrilled me more than my dad (who by-stepped gender lines & did all of the household shopping) electing me to tag along on his shopping adventure. Well, it was an adventure for me, but more of a business venture for him. Y'see, while I reveled in being able to “play store” in the real world, my dad marveled over the knowledge that, with a brick-like stack of coupons in his hand, he could waltz out of Alpha-Beta with $200+ worth of groceries for half the amount. His action was a snub against “the man” who figured that the population at large wouldn’t set aside time to collect, let alone cut out and organize tiny, colorful pieces of supermarket currency. Well, my dad was wise; he knew, that a family of twelve was not going to eat much if he didn’t find loopholes in the food industry.

So, growing up, I was a mega lo mart gal. I was brought up in supermarkets, k-marts, and safeways. But in time, w/the exceptional lazy jaunts to Vons, I morphed into a Trader Joe's woman. As I got older and began living on my own, my health consciousness increased with each year; if I didn't start tending to my body now, I'd pay financially and emotionally later with increased risks for disease. Despite those fast food impulses, which pounce on my self-rule from time to time, I vowed to be more healthful and limit the amount of foreign, and sometimes toxic, substances entering my bloodstream. Since LA air is 30 proof in toxin levels, and we're asked to block out UV rays with a vat of sunscreen, the natural way I found to sustain a more organic lifestyle was monitoring what I ate. Not only was I improving my eating habits, but I saved some green by eating green.

This epiphany altered my mindset and, I thought, everyone should have the luxury of eating healthy foods. But why isn't this the case? The transition from single to married life has me beached @ my mom's house in El Sereno for a few weeks. In this time, I have become outraged @ the lack of healthy food choices accessible to inner city families. The closest market to my mom's is Albertson's, where with $200, my brother and I barely bought enough food to last our family of five for a week. I was incensed, not only by the lack of organic food choices, but at the steep price tags attached to semi-edible crap!

A dozen cage-free eggs @ TJ's is 99 cents; a dozen “who knows” eggs is around $4 @ your local Albertsons. A loaf of bread w/natural ingredients is $2 @ TJ's, but @ Albertsons, yup, $4 for nutrient free slices. Sure you can get the cheap stuff, but the cheap stuff is...well...CHEAP! The market did carry a few organic lines, but they were often 2-3x the amount as the processed stuff. If you live in the inner city and shop for a family of five, what are your thoughts? If you're of lower income and grasp tightly to ever cent earned, which item are you ultimately going to reach for: expensive, but organic, or cheap and plentiful?

Well, why don't urban families just go to TJ's? They do not bc of awareness and the proximity of such stores. My mom always though TJ’s was a posh and pricey joint; and, if she did decide to go there, she only has one to frequent, which is 15+ minutes away. At the end of the day, she's going to go to Albertsons bc it's 5 minutes from her house. When I lived in Pasadena, I had 3 TJ's to choose from! And, they were all about a 5-minute drive.

In essence, it's easy to suggest that people clip their coupons and try to eat more healthy. Yes, they should drive the 15+ minutes if it means saving $$$ and getting quality food. But why can't a person merely go to their local market and get wholesome food w/out having to take out a 2nd mortgage? Why are the simple things...the fundamentals of life hard to attain in our society? Capitalism? I suppose. Yeesh! And DON’T even get me started about gas prices!!!!!!!!!!!

"F*ck you b*tch! It's my turn."

These were the words uttered - no, shouted - at me around 1 AM this morning by a complete stranger.

I, too, was on my way home, minding my own business, IN MY OWN CAR. You'd think that at that point you should be safe from unwanted harassment.

Let me tell you the story.

I was on the freeway home after a lovely, but late, evening out. There were some road repairs so the normally 5-lane traffic becomes 1 lane. Here I am, amongst this stop-and-go traffic in the dead of night, when some big truck tries to forcefully cut me off - no signaling or anything.

Now, I generally do not take to anyone's manipulation easily. Likewise, I inched forward to indicate that, no, that's kind of a dick move, sir.

The driver (white male, mid- to late- thirties) opens his door in the middle of traffic, gets out of his huge Ford (250?) truck, and shouts at me through my windshield, "FUCK YOU BITCH! IT'S MY TURN."

I am smaller than he is and my car is smaller than his. Maybe I should have just run him over, but can someone please explain what in the world I could have done to respond to this?

I simply switched lanes and drove away. But I wish I could have expressed, in no uncertain terms, how inappropriate and unacceptable his words and behavior is. It was the one time I wish I carried a gun, just to overcome this stupid difference in intimidation potential.

a post!

Hello, Women's Writes. Julia here - you might recall that several months ago I introduced myself to the group and then vanished. I'm an English teacher in Japan and months of living without internet in my apartment plus adjusting to my international move and
new career have severely affected my internetting habits for which I apologize - Women's Writes is such a great movement and I've seen a lot of great posts here since it began. I really wish I had posted more often. I read a post here yesterday by the wonderful miss Simone that finally inspired me to move my rear end and add my two cents.

In her last post, Simone writes on the topic of female vulnerability. When I read her post, my thoughts immediately went to a conversation I had recently had with another female teacher at my school. She told me that one night, she was coming home on the subway and had an experience quite similar to Simone's when a creepy fellow began to follow her and ask her leading questions. She didn't choose earphones to ward off the scumbucket, however - she chose an imaginary boyfriend.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I have to go. My boyfriend is waiting for me and I need to meet him." The would-be pervert nodded and vanished without another word.

When she told me this story, I was relieved that the creep had gone away, but I couldn't help thinking howunfortunate it was that she had had to invent a man as a form of protection. Worse, the knowledge that despite my own raging aversion to depending on men, I might have very well done the same thing. A would-be attacker seems to think preying on a lone female is
fine but often backs off when a big, strong man is in the picture - someone who could potentially give him trouble. The lie often comes instinctively in a big, spastic blurt before one can remember their wits: "I'm sorry, I don't know the time but I have to go because
my boyfriend is waiting for me. Yep, I sure love Gunther - I'm so proud of him! He's a second-degree blackbelt in karate and he might make the third degree tonight...!"

A similar lie is often told when an undesirable fellow asks us out: "I'm flattered," we gush, "... but, unfortunately, I have a boyfriend." We rationalize the lie by telling ourselves that it is the quickest, easiest way to spare the other guy's feelings, but what the lie actually says is "I don't have the strength and confidence to say 'no' to you because I want to - I need to invent another man to provide a viable excuse as to why I don't want to date you."

Despite having used this ploy at times in my life, I resent it. I resent that after centuries of attempts to be viewed as equal to men - gaining the vote, demanding control over our bodies, carving out financially and emotionally independent lives - we still sometimes resort to needing male protection. Somehow, even the imaginary threat of a man seems to be better protection than, say, our pepper spray or even our ipod earphones.

As I type this, I am chatting via IM with my (male) friend back home for feedback. He says he doesn't see why it is so bad for females to need male protection - women are, after all, generally weaker/smaller thanmen ("And wait, you weren't upset when I walked you home from work that night, were you??"); therefore it's a fact of life that we might need male protection from other males. I know my friend means well but I am nonetheless getting upset. And I am probably getting upset because I know that ultimately, he has a point.

I know I'm physically smaller and weaker than a man. I know that in nature, animals fear what might hurt them and at 4'11" and under 100 pounds I just don't pose that threat. I know that when I walk home with my 6 foot tall boyfriend (who actually is a 2nd degree black belt in karate) I am more likely to seem like too much trouble to deal with. I know that even if I,
too, became a black belt in karate or an ace with a knife I would still seem like an easy target on sight if I walked home alone at night - until I donned a yellow jumpsuit and with my katana blade slit the rat bastard from navel to nose (yes, I watched Kill Bill last night). Until I can do that, though (and the chances of that are likely to none) I know I am still an easier target than a man.

And that is a thought I absolutely hate.

i didn't mean to turn you on

more proof that bad things happen when i'm not armed with my headphones-

while reading my book on the train this morning (feminist anthology no less), i noticed a stranger approaching out of the corner of my eye. i did the polite thing and lifted my bag onto my lap so that said stranger could sit on one of the adjacent seats.

stranger sat on the seat next to me.

a few seconds later i hear (in obvious come-on voice), "hey. you look familiar."
dismayed i quietly murmur, "hi." (i am shocked at how soft and gentle my voice sounds when uttering these words.) it's one of the rare moments when i don't have my headphones to act as a barrier that shields me from unwanted discussion. i silently curse myself for forgetting to charge my ipod. i look up to see who this dude is and am startled to see that this man has a severely burned face. still, he has the balls to talk to me when i am clearly occupied with reading my book.
the husky voice comes back with "do you live in highland park?"
"no."
"got a boyfriend?"
i nod yes, not even looking up this time.
some seconds later he walks away.

for a brief moment, i feel guilty for the brush off, wondering if i was too rude, but this feeling quickly fades into relief. it was relatively quick & painless. my anxiety level drops back to normal.

it's difficult for me to explain the degree to which i sincerely hate these types of exchanges. i feel pressured by and highly resentful of this interaction. i can't help but feel as though the pursuing males in question want ownership of me and my time, both of which they have no right to claim. there's a certain privilege inherent in it, you know? the feeling that "hey, i know you're busy with something else, but i'll just interrupt you anyway so that i can hit on you."

at the same time, i've always been taught to be nice and courteous, so although i never welcome this attention, i continue to struggle with brushing it off. i can't understand this. (why should i even care if a total stranger thinks i'm a bitch?) i've chalked it up to deeply ingrained social/cultural training. i also wonder if this particular socialization (to always behave politely) explains why i've often been misunderstood by both men and women. in high school i remember classmates describing me as "quiet" and "shy" or "happy" and "always smiling"-- words that i would never choose to describe myself.

i've heard guys say that they sometimes wish for the type of unsolicited attention women receive on the regular (via catcalls, scandalous glances, come-ons, etc.) or the comment that "you should enjoy it now because one day you'll miss that type of attention." my reply? yeah RIGHT. i don't enjoy being treated this way, continually being reminded that i'm just a sexual object on legs, a walking target for jackasses everywhere. you know, just another light-skinned girl with "good hair" or a vaguely asian, mysteriously exotic, racially ambiguous creature. and furthermore, i highly doubt that there will ever come a day when i long for this attention.

i can't even describe the recurring threat that this type of attention poses to my safety and well-being within my everyday life, or accurately articulate how each of these incidents builds up to an insane amount of frustration. no, i don't fear rape from every single man i meet on the street, but at the same time, i cannot feel safe when a walk last night was accompanied by several hoots and hollers and even a "hey baby" or 2 from men in a nearby car. i hate feeling that to a certain degree, as a small woman, i will always be helpless. i felt like a sitting duck, powerless to talk back to the catcalling men last night, because how could i back up my words with action if shit went down? two men in a car vs. my 5' frame on foot? i may be feisty, but i'm not stupid. last night, i briefly fantasized for the first time about getting a gun, thinking that it would be the one way i could consistently win against any number of male harassers. and i had always considered myself a pacifist! after a little more thought, i think i'll go the self-defense class route over the gun route (for now anyway).

back to this morning-
despite feeling as though the brushoff was successful, i still looked back over my shoulder periodically as i quickly made my way out of the train station and toward my workplace. my ipod is charging as i type to ensure that my headphones will give the silent brushoff if necessary tonight.

i look forward to the day when i'm strong enough to respond without having to hide behind my trusty headphones, and i know that day will come.

Another gem (thanks again to BUST Magazine)

Ever heard of the Chubsters? They're a girl gang from the UK.
Check out the "donut hands" (gang sign) under the "chub life" section.

http://www.chubstergang.com/index.htm

awesomeness

i found out about this amazingness from bust mag:

http://sprockettes.org/sprockettes/about.html

JOIN THE FUN. you know you want to...

women, girls, ladies and broads, i know you're reading this...so why aren't you WRITING this?

this blog is only as good and as our entries. PLEASE PARTICIPATE!

if you check this blog regularly, or if your name is listed on the column to the left of this post...the time is now to start contributing. this blog wasn't created for just dolly and me to bounce ideas off each other- we do that already! our hope with wwm was to foster a new kind of community. we want to hear your experiences and opinions and know what's making the gears turn in your brains. we won't be able to do that if we're the only ones writing these posts. in the wise words of salt n pepa, "go ahead girls, express yourself!"

i know life gets crazy with work, school, and other commitments, but please just take 5 or 10 minutes from your daily myspace-browsing time and donate it to wwm. we invite you to join our motley crew of free-thinking femmes!

(hey, don't make me call you out individually, wink.)

Overwhelmed. Too many things to plan. Tired.

I want to write a proper blog, but my brain hurts. I’ll list stuff instead...

a few things that excite me about getting married
night time cuddling
having someone who loves everything about you, including the good/bad/ugly
cooking plus one portions (love to cook)
being able to share annoying life tasks
being forced to work problems out and thus, enhancing my sense of self
learning more about my fiance
having a partner in crime
lazy sundays with the one you <3
ETC...

Things occupying space in my head and burning a hole in my gut
$$$ issues
Moving, packing, landlords etc.
Obsessing over looks
feeling insecure
More $$$ issues
Thinking of leaving LA
Never having free time on the weekends! I used to visit my mom
Weekly…haven’t seen her in ages!
Planning wedding stuff (fun, but stressful)

Things to do before May 19
Get rings
Pick up my dress
Get Chris a tux
Pay travel agent
Pay for everything else
Buy a unity candle
Attend a ladies day out bach party
Talk w/reverend about ceremony
Talk with Madonna inn coordinator to finalize details
Get beautified
Buy a guest book
Assemble place card thingies
Meet w/hair & make-up chica
Get shoes dyed
Get a haircut
Move to my mom’s then
Move into Chris’ pad
Have rehearsal
Go to Oregon to see friends and scope it out

Things I’d like to have one day
Ability to look back @ a long/happy marriage
Kids
A degree
A new VW bug
A walk-in closet
Debt free living
General contentment

more, but...

from wikipedia

Female emancipation

Woman with bicycle, 1890s

The diamond-frame safety bicycle gave women unprecedented mobility, contributing to their emancipation in Western nations. As bicycles became safer and cheaper, more women had access to the personal freedom they embodied, and so the bicycle came to symbolise the New Woman of the late nineteenth century, especially in Britain and the United States.

The bicycle was recognised by nineteenth-century feminists and suffragists as a "freedom machine" for women. American Susan B. Anthony said in a New York World interview on February 2, 1896: "Let me tell you what I think of bicycling. I think it has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world. It gives women a feeling of freedom and self-reliance. I stand and rejoice every time I see a woman ride by on a wheel...the picture of free, untrammelled womanhood." In 1895 Frances Willard, the tightly-laced president of the Women's Christian Temperance Union, wrote a book called How I Learned to Ride the Bicycle, in which she praised the bicycle she learned to ride late in life, and which she named "Gladys", for its "gladdening effect" on her health and political optimism. Willard used a cycling metaphor to urge other suffragists to action, proclaiming, "I would not waste my life in friction when it could be turned into momentum."

The male anger at the freedom symbolised by the New (bicycling) Woman was demonstrated when the male undergraduates of Cambridge University chose to show their opposition to the admission of women as full members of the university by hanging a woman in effigy in the main town square -- tellingly, a woman on a bicycle. This was as late as 1897.^[11]

In the 1890s the bicycle craze led to a movement for so-called rational dress, which helped liberate women from corsets and ankle-length skirts and other restrictive garments, substituting the then-shocking bloomers.

W.W.K.M.D.?

I hate that at the semi-young age of 27, I can look around at society today and ask, “Where did the good ole days go?” It seems that in the short span of 10+ years (the time I’ve spent working for the man) America’s economic system has gotten progressively worse. Okay, my worldviews have never resided in a rose-colored bubble; I’ve always known that the divide between the rich and the average Joe/Joanne is chasm like and depressing. But in my jaded eyes, and considering that you want to own a home and start a family, our ability to breathe the refreshing air of financial freedom isn’t even a possibility if you make under $50,000 in L.A. today!

I have a decent job with okay wages, but it only ever amounts to enough…paycheck to paycheck. When I receive a raise, all of my other expenses are “coincidentally” raised as well; over a few years, my rent has went up $125 and my health care usually soaks up the 50 cent raise I get every other year. These rising costs level my fiscal playing field so that at the end of the day, my money meter points to zero or negative sums.

I should be content in the fact that I have healthcare when so many others don’t, and when I pull up past images of the Katrina relief debacle I should sleep easier, right? I do have it good, right? Why don’t I feel right?

I’m not a coin-operated machine, nor am I one who gets high off sniffing dollar bills. Money making/greed isn’t the essence of my rant. What I strive for is a comfortable quality of life. I’m happy for what God has blessed me with, but at the end of the day when I come home to endless bills, despite my thriftiness & budgeting, I have to reach for my old pal Visa to keep me moving.

Anyway, I’m getting married soon, and my fiancé proposed the idea of moving out of L.A. so that we can actually have tangible assets to look back upon; although CA has been my home since birth, that option doesn't seem so shabby. I want to own a home and have a family, but I hate that the compromise for attaining those things is moving away from my home and family. Irony sucks, eh?

Why such a divide between those who live with ease, and those who live with debt? What would bell hooks say...What would Karl Marx do? We'll see what happens I guess...

$%#*!

I JUST DON'T GET IT!

despite (or maybe because of?) my ambivalence towards marriage in my own life, the engagement of my boyfriend's good friend (to his girlfriend of a year) is bringing up some odd and unexpected mixed feelings.

i am all for the presence of marriage in the lives of my friends who want to get married; however, in the last few years i've experienced an inner backlash against it in my own.

a few ideas that i've been pondering:
-in this country, marriage is clearly an institution of privilege reserved only for heterosexuals. i don't want to support that.
-sometimes the idea of being so completely committed to one person, ready to "stand by your man" no matter what, sounds like a terrifying trap.
-with divorce so frequent, what does marriage really mean? why choose marriage over long-term cohabitation? in the worst case scenario, isn't it better to live together and break up than get married and divorced? (i was born "out of wedlock." what impacted me 100x more than my parents being unmarried was the idea that they weren't together and the absence of my dad.)

my general attitude is, if it happens, it happens. i'm not going to live my life in mad pursuit of a husband. i'd like to live a happy and well-rounded life with love and family as integral components, but i don't want marriage and children to be my ultimate goals. (where do you go from there?)

so back to the matter at hand...why all the weirdness? whenever i receive news of an engagement (e.g. good friends or family members), my usual response is extreme happiness and sincere excitement for the couple's bright future together. maybe it's messed up, but this time, i didn't feel that way. i saw it coming, so i wasn't surprised. i think they will be happy together, and i'm happy for them (despite the past minor conflicts i've had with the bride-to-be), but i guess somehow the announcement raised some buried feelings of inadequacy or insecurity. i began having thoughts like, "how did he know in only a year when ----- and i have been dating for a few...what does that say about me?" or "will ----- ever propose?" etc. you know what i mean, right? WEIRD! especially for someone so decidedly not interested in marriage right now.

is it time to confront the jealous 15 year-old girl within? (why won't she leave me alone already?) or do i unconsciously aspire to an age-old tradition without even realizing it? despite my clear objections to certain aspects of the institution, am i still secretly "wedded" to the idea of marriage or what? sigh.

Getting women's voices out there

In this NY Times article, a discussion of the effort to put more women's voices in op-ed pages. It reminded me of the great forum we have here.

Warm-fuzzies!

Straight Outta East Los

So, I was in the break-room during lunch, pouring over the endless array of gag-worthy mag choices like town and country/ Talbot's, when I chanced upon the March issue of Tu Ciudad L.A.
They featured an article on the comedic and satirical sagacity of a fictional chola, so of course, I immediately hauled a** to my desk to check out her sites http://www.myspace.com/askachola
and http://www.askachola.com/

Dang! I wasn't sorry. FUNNY SH*T! I thoroughly enjoy this project askachola has going on, and I hope you will too. ** hint, hint **
So anyhoo, what I'm trying to say is that you should put a jet pack on your buns & visit her page, or I'm pretty sure that she'll cut you.