So, I am feminist. So are all the members of my family, so is my husband, so are most people I know. The true definition of feminism:
The advocacy of women's rights on the grounds of political, social, and economic equality to men.
Not women are better than men or women have the right to be hairy and sleep with as many people as they want, just like men (which they do, but that's not the point). Feminism was originally used as an inane emblem to describe the belief that we are all human and should be afforded the same rights.
I've lived my whole life as a completely free human being, accepted as who I am by my family, always encouraged to explore and learn and grow and make my own choices according to my own convictions.
To Caspian's unending eye-rolling, I'm also completely obsessed with fundamentalist movements and have been agonizing for years now (I wrote one of my undergraduate theses to illuminate repressive messages and themes in Amish publications) over finding some way to free, educate or comfort the suppressed groups that suffer under this regime. Seriously. Even under the threat of more eye-rolling from my husband, I admit that I'd even be willing to dedicate my life to the cause.
I am utterly fascinated by the blogs of fundamentalist women, as well as journals chronicling the thoughts and experiences of those who have escaped the movement's clutches and are now just discovering what it means to be free to live and love and grow as the people they are. My grief for these people is completely overwhelming, to the point where I am hesitant to describe just how strongly I feel. I want to scream and rage and hug and comfort and weep as their stories unfold. No other cause transforms me into such a wreck.
It's almost worse when I read about the political aspirations and causes of the leaders of these movements (male and female) - I just have to oppose them. I am compelled to fight! I can't just sit here and simply live my life freely while these others suffer and while others actively fight to oppose my lifestyle, to change the very laws that allow it. The United States is such a weird, backward country in so many ways, and I read an article recently that mentions American fundamentalist aspirations to revoke gay marriage rights in Canada. BLARGH! This is a shot at the people I love! One of my best friends is gay and married!
I should start a nonprofit.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
I'm feeling better now. Life is truly good. I have love, a beautiful place to live, friends whom I love and who love me. I taught a 2-hour workshop to an eastern European executive on business ethics and it went beautifully.
Fall is in the air, and yet the cicadas are still singing away to their hearts' content, beginning from 9 AM. It's weird to wake up to temps of 14 (around 59 degrees F) in late August. I have almost finished assembling all of the materials and documentation needed to complete my applications for a study visa and enrollment at McGill University, and I will be sending it off this Friday.
I found my Nintendo DS in a bin the other day, where it has lain dormant for a couple of years. I've probably only ever played it for a grand total of 10 hours and it was in its box, in mint condition, still with factory plastic adhering to it. So, I plugged in Phantom Hourglass and have been... ARGH! I've probably played 3 hours of Link today, and last night I played it... In bed. That's my fortune. You will play tons of childish video games (in bed). Who cares about work evals when one could be scouring the seas for golden frogs and captured power fairies?! Eh?
In other news, a moderately powerful hurricane is slated to strike my home state. I hope it gives my mom a vacation, since she's utterly exhausted by her job at the moment. Mentoring technologically-challenged people in addition to her other strenuous duties isn't in her job description. In other other news, EARTHQUAKE! But not here. Maybe all of the crazies at Family Radio were right?
Fall is in the air, and yet the cicadas are still singing away to their hearts' content, beginning from 9 AM. It's weird to wake up to temps of 14 (around 59 degrees F) in late August. I have almost finished assembling all of the materials and documentation needed to complete my applications for a study visa and enrollment at McGill University, and I will be sending it off this Friday.
I found my Nintendo DS in a bin the other day, where it has lain dormant for a couple of years. I've probably only ever played it for a grand total of 10 hours and it was in its box, in mint condition, still with factory plastic adhering to it. So, I plugged in Phantom Hourglass and have been... ARGH! I've probably played 3 hours of Link today, and last night I played it... In bed. That's my fortune. You will play tons of childish video games (in bed). Who cares about work evals when one could be scouring the seas for golden frogs and captured power fairies?! Eh?
In other news, a moderately powerful hurricane is slated to strike my home state. I hope it gives my mom a vacation, since she's utterly exhausted by her job at the moment. Mentoring technologically-challenged people in addition to her other strenuous duties isn't in her job description. In other other news, EARTHQUAKE! But not here. Maybe all of the crazies at Family Radio were right?
Monday, August 22, 2011
We All Break the Same
I'm depressed.
It's been like this for the last 4 or 5 weeks. I'm just disillusioned with myself and my goals and dance and all sorts of things. I don't have enough money, my career is paused due to language constraints until I spend money I don't have to study French to get my certificate.
Because we practice and practice and practice and have lessons every week at the the same times over and over, there is this illusion that Felix and I keep making the same dumb mistakes over and over again and that the same things challenge me no matter how many times I face them. I need some inspiration. I realized in my saturnine, weird, intermittent dreams last night that we are not going to dance at La Relance in September. We haven't admitted it or planned not to dance at it, but we won't.
The first time I brought it up a few weeks ago, Felix was like, "It's such a small competition, not worth our time." The second time, he seemed disinterested and wasn't excited by the costumes that I picked out, so I didn't commit to any of them. The third time he said that he wanted to utterly sweep the floor wherever we competed so that we could compete in the next tier and get new advanced choreo. The fourth time, he told me that our latin wasn't good enough, and that we could compete in standard only, which really befuddled me because I think our standard is lacking and that we should only do latin. Fuck, we've been practicing together hours every week for the last... year. A YEAR. I have probably jumped entire levels in this single year, and yet, it doesn't seem like nearly enough.
He's one of my best friends. His boyfriend has called me up to thank me for finding my way into Felix's life. But sometimes I don't get him and I'm puzzled by his flighty scheduling and vacillations between love of dance with me vs. his reluctance to dance with me in competition. I wish we could just go and have fun. I wish he didn't have ex-partners calling him up and telling him that they'd be in the front row to see how I stack up. I wish costumes were banned like they are in the US in gold and under. The dance milieu is just so hostile in Montréal. I just want to stand on the floor in all of my glory and dance with him.
You know what? Who cares about all of this! Why not keep this simple routine of practicing and partying and enjoying each other's company? Why should I feel so pressured to compete? It doesn't matter. Sure, I want to be a competitive dancer, but every week something improves. Which means every week I practice and don't compete is one less screwup caught on camera or by a judge's eye.
I want to dance a fucking showdance with props and open figures and tons of flashy stuff not allowed in syllabus, in front of a non-dancer audience. Champ dancers from all over the US and Canada come to my studio and I am so weary of being the baby, the rookie. I'm always impressed and never impressive.
It's been like this for the last 4 or 5 weeks. I'm just disillusioned with myself and my goals and dance and all sorts of things. I don't have enough money, my career is paused due to language constraints until I spend money I don't have to study French to get my certificate.
Because we practice and practice and practice and have lessons every week at the the same times over and over, there is this illusion that Felix and I keep making the same dumb mistakes over and over again and that the same things challenge me no matter how many times I face them. I need some inspiration. I realized in my saturnine, weird, intermittent dreams last night that we are not going to dance at La Relance in September. We haven't admitted it or planned not to dance at it, but we won't.
The first time I brought it up a few weeks ago, Felix was like, "It's such a small competition, not worth our time." The second time, he seemed disinterested and wasn't excited by the costumes that I picked out, so I didn't commit to any of them. The third time he said that he wanted to utterly sweep the floor wherever we competed so that we could compete in the next tier and get new advanced choreo. The fourth time, he told me that our latin wasn't good enough, and that we could compete in standard only, which really befuddled me because I think our standard is lacking and that we should only do latin. Fuck, we've been practicing together hours every week for the last... year. A YEAR. I have probably jumped entire levels in this single year, and yet, it doesn't seem like nearly enough.
He's one of my best friends. His boyfriend has called me up to thank me for finding my way into Felix's life. But sometimes I don't get him and I'm puzzled by his flighty scheduling and vacillations between love of dance with me vs. his reluctance to dance with me in competition. I wish we could just go and have fun. I wish he didn't have ex-partners calling him up and telling him that they'd be in the front row to see how I stack up. I wish costumes were banned like they are in the US in gold and under. The dance milieu is just so hostile in Montréal. I just want to stand on the floor in all of my glory and dance with him.
You know what? Who cares about all of this! Why not keep this simple routine of practicing and partying and enjoying each other's company? Why should I feel so pressured to compete? It doesn't matter. Sure, I want to be a competitive dancer, but every week something improves. Which means every week I practice and don't compete is one less screwup caught on camera or by a judge's eye.
I want to dance a fucking showdance with props and open figures and tons of flashy stuff not allowed in syllabus, in front of a non-dancer audience. Champ dancers from all over the US and Canada come to my studio and I am so weary of being the baby, the rookie. I'm always impressed and never impressive.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
The Shades and the Shadowed
I saw Captain America last night in 3D. It was pretty fun, what's-his-face has the body of Apollo and satisfactory acting skills and Hugo Weaving continues to be my most favoritest actor of all time, but I couldn't help but ponder the experiential differences between being a 5'3" woman and a 6'5" muscular male.
Because it's true and I don't say it enough anyway, I'll write it here to remind myself when I am at my most mercilessly self-critical, which is often. I am nice-looking and strong. I don't adhere to the current standard of physical perfection , but I have no imperfections as defined by the genetic code and survival requirements of my race. I'm flexible, all of my muscles are well-developed and daily exercised. My face is noble. My body obeys my every whim, my senses are acute (although I'm nearsighted) and I have no illnesses or congenital issues. I wish my hair wasn't so fine, I wish my nose wasn't so arched, I dream of a smaller bust and a longer, more statuesque neck. I wish I didn't make so many weird faces. We all wish we could change things about ourselves, right?
Despite all of the good physical qualities sketched previously, I'm so small and weak compared with the average man. I really, really wonder how it feels to be in control of a superior body, to tower over the rest, to command the raw strength of a powerful male in his prime. I bet it feels pretty damn good.
Sure - there are other important physical and mental qualities to possess and I value all of them, but for once in my life, I want to feel what it's like to physically intimidate. I want to feel what it's like to have a daunting physical presence. Sometimes I'm so tired of my feminine whatever, I'm tired of being small and cute and GAG. Maybe it's a kind of power, womanly wiles or whatever, but I'm so sick of being once'd over. I want to look into somebody's eyes, just once, and I want to see fear, caution, alarm; I want to see them compelled to sidle away to avoid crossing me. I want to be challenged and win through strength and physical prowess, conquer above-average masculine competitors.
I want to be the one people lock their doors to guard against. I want to be the one who passes in the night, unmolested and without any need of caution or protection. To be the shadow, instead of the shadowed. Meh. It's hard being a woman.
Because it's true and I don't say it enough anyway, I'll write it here to remind myself when I am at my most mercilessly self-critical, which is often. I am nice-looking and strong. I don't adhere to the current standard of physical perfection , but I have no imperfections as defined by the genetic code and survival requirements of my race. I'm flexible, all of my muscles are well-developed and daily exercised. My face is noble. My body obeys my every whim, my senses are acute (although I'm nearsighted) and I have no illnesses or congenital issues. I wish my hair wasn't so fine, I wish my nose wasn't so arched, I dream of a smaller bust and a longer, more statuesque neck. I wish I didn't make so many weird faces. We all wish we could change things about ourselves, right?
Despite all of the good physical qualities sketched previously, I'm so small and weak compared with the average man. I really, really wonder how it feels to be in control of a superior body, to tower over the rest, to command the raw strength of a powerful male in his prime. I bet it feels pretty damn good.
Sure - there are other important physical and mental qualities to possess and I value all of them, but for once in my life, I want to feel what it's like to physically intimidate. I want to feel what it's like to have a daunting physical presence. Sometimes I'm so tired of my feminine whatever, I'm tired of being small and cute and GAG. Maybe it's a kind of power, womanly wiles or whatever, but I'm so sick of being once'd over. I want to look into somebody's eyes, just once, and I want to see fear, caution, alarm; I want to see them compelled to sidle away to avoid crossing me. I want to be challenged and win through strength and physical prowess, conquer above-average masculine competitors.
I want to be the one people lock their doors to guard against. I want to be the one who passes in the night, unmolested and without any need of caution or protection. To be the shadow, instead of the shadowed. Meh. It's hard being a woman.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Guh.
So much for partying tonight. Felix and his man are going on a spontaneous trip to the countryside for a couple days, starting right now.
I just don't get it.
I'm selfish and I'm ready for something fabulous and amazing to happen to me.
I'm trying to decide whether I should live my life the way I want to, or if I should want to live my life like my peers do.
Find steady income, buy house in suburbs, acquire stuff and things, keep it copacetic, learn to accept it, etc.?
Bow head to the pressure to take a career path delineated by my three degrees, or to enjoy what I do? Both possible?
Costumes have to be purchased this weekend. I have a good idea of what I want my standard dress to look like, but no clue for latin. Felix and I will discuss it while we're partying tonight, I'll bring my netbook so we can look at images.
I just submitted my application for a student visa.
I applied for a job today as a corporate trainer for a multinational company.
Each of the two previous options are mutually exclusive. I just love to generate drama. ::gag::
I'm trying to decide whether I should live my life the way I want to, or if I should want to live my life like my peers do.
Find steady income, buy house in suburbs, acquire stuff and things, keep it copacetic, learn to accept it, etc.?
Bow head to the pressure to take a career path delineated by my three degrees, or to enjoy what I do? Both possible?
Costumes have to be purchased this weekend. I have a good idea of what I want my standard dress to look like, but no clue for latin. Felix and I will discuss it while we're partying tonight, I'll bring my netbook so we can look at images.
I just submitted my application for a student visa.
I applied for a job today as a corporate trainer for a multinational company.
Each of the two previous options are mutually exclusive. I just love to generate drama. ::gag::
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