Archive for June, 2009

in three years and seven months minus two days, i don’t know where i’ll be, except to say that i will be in a very peculiar state of mind.

i was worried that i had lost it, but i think i found it again.  counting.  obsessing.  persuading.  believing.  it’s real.

i want to squint in the sunshine, smile frozen on my face, and know what it’s for.


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it looks something like satisfaction, i am told.   i believe it.  it is a “what?” that wells up from inside your chest, burbling out on a gush of laughter.   it is  a strange story told with a smile on your face, a pleasant sense that something is peculiar but that everything is somehow fine.

often all i can muster is a sort of headachy confusion: that tense feeling you get between your eyes from driving or crying or being in bright sunshine for too long.   sometimes you can scrape up a smile for the telling, but it’s the sort that makes your cheeks hurt.

i’m tired of confusion.  i’m tired of bemusement, too.  i’m tired of being led and misled all the time, whether it makes a good story or not.  i think i’d rather just have donuts and fall asleep in the crook of someone’s arm and not have the story to tell.

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is far too hot for a sultry afternoon like this, with jason mraz scatting in the background, a belly fully of potatoes and sausage and leftovers, a blissfully clean sink–

one of those days where washing the dishes makes you a little too warm, your shirt clings to your stomach and your hair clings to your neck and cooling the water down is nice for a second but you really can’t rinse all the soap off the dishes that way– where afterwards, leaving your hands damp and wiping your forehead with the back of your wrist, you finally scoop up your hair into a new ponytail and pour yourself a big glass of icy lemonade–

but there’s no such thing as too hot for red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting to be made and consumed alongside dewy glasses of milk with your nearest and dearest.

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there are obviously some terrible, devastating, serious consequences to societal sexism. women all over the country and all over the world are brutalized, marginalized, and silenced on a daily basis. but… sometimes it’s the little things that piss me off.

to wit:

–men shave about 5% of their bodies.
–women shave about 35% of our bodies.
–when women don’t shave their legs, they get called granola-crunching lesbians. when men grow beards, nobody bats an eye. stubbly men are sexy, stubbly women are careless. (seriously? beyonce on her worst day has better looking underarms than i do.)

but, men reap more benefits from advancements in research and development:

–men got three-blade, four-blade, and five-blade razors before women: for example, gillette’s venus razor wasn’t introduced until march 2001, fully three years after mach 3 for men, the comparable product, was introduced.
–now, men get fancy-schmancy razors with indicator strips to tell them when they need a new blade.

now, i want silky smooth legs just as much as men want me to have silky smooth legs. and i could probably just go down to cvs and buy gillette fusion cartridges for my venus razor (razor blades for different brands within the same company are about as interchangeable as car parts for different makes from the same manufacturer– it’s not a sure thing, but it’s pretty good). but really. when your gender has been historically enslaved, harassed, violated, denied educational and professional opportunities, and subjected to cruel and unreasonable expectations… the least society could do is offer us proportional means to live up to the unreasonable expectations.

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i require very little in order to be happy, i have found.

when i was little, it was rare that my mother would buy cherries or strawberries.  “they’re too expensive,” she’d say, pointing to $3 or $4 per pound price tags, and turning my attention to apples or bananas instead.  today the price tags continue to shock me: $5, $6, $7 per pound.  they are small luxuries.

today i opened the fridge to find a bag of cherries that my roommates bought the other day.  and today i bought strawberries for slicing up on cereal.  we are impoverished twentysomethings with rent and utilities and car insurance.  but seeing these berries in the fridge, i thought: “we’re rich!”

today i allowed myself other luxuries, too.  moments of self-indulgence more emotional than culinary.  i allowed myself the luxuries of wistfulness, of yearning.  strawberries and cherries for the soul.  –maybe not as good for me as berries: maybe cinnamon buns or coffee cake.  still, these luxuries are small things.

i didn’t feel enriched, exactly, for having the thoughts, but i felt satisfied somehow by allowing myself the luxury of thinking them for once.

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