overheard in our apartment.

BoyCat: you know, there is nothing funnier than one weiner dog climbing over another weiner dog.

that's right, ladies and gentleman, you heard it here first - the holy grail of comedy is slapstick with dachsunds.

an observation, a question, and a mini-rant.

an observation: if BoyCat and i ever find ourselves with enough money to live in a nice house - or a condo, or townhouse, or whatever - i would love to have a fireplace. it's not something that's ever going to be a deal breaker when it comes to purchasing property, but i do want one. which in some ways is odd, given my deep-seated fear of my abode burning down around me while i sleep. but regardless - i'd like to have a comfortable couch on which to curl up with my feet under a blanket and my hands around a glass of wine, or cup of tea, and a fire in the fireplace. that would be nice. and that's entirely enough domestic daydreaming for one evening, so on to...

a question: do any real women wear foundation? and i don't mean concealer, and i don't mean a swipe of powder from a compact - i don't even mean those foundation stick things they have. i mean real, honest-to-goodness, out of a bottle liquid goo foundation. because if so? i don't know them. yet i see the commercials all the time, so someone must be buying it, right? which leads me to...

a mini-rant: see, BoyCat and i only have a weekend subscription to the chicago tribune, so we get the paper on friday, saturday, and sunday. on sundays, like a good little spendthrift, i usually thumb through the manufacturer's coupons to see if there's anything that we can use. why is it that proctor & gamble, et al. seem to think that the only things i'm interested in purchasing are cleaning products and/or stuff to smear on my face? clorox, mascara, windex, foundation, age-defying eye cream, swiffer, disinfectant wipes, toner, bronzer, lipstick that will apparently withstand a nuclear holocaust - this is all they offer me. you know, all i want is 50 cents off some nutri-grain bars and a buy one get one free on stovetop stuffing. is that really so much to ask??

silver lining.

i am writing this from my new office, sitting at my big U-shaped desk, and looking at the door that i can close anytime i want.

*happy dance*

as noted by kurt vonnegut.

not much left in the tank tonight for blogging, so i will merely share this bit from timequake, which nudged its way unassumingly into my memory earlier today:

In chapter 2 of this wonderful book of mine, I mention a commemoration in the chapel of the University of Chicago of the fiftieth anniversary of the atom-bombing of Hiroshima. I said at the time that I had to respect the opinion of my friend William Styron that the Hiroshima bomb saved his life. Styron was then a United States Marine, training for an invasion of the Japanse home islands, when that bomb was dropped.

I had to add, though, that I knew a single word that proved our democratic government was capable of committing obscene, gleefully rabid and racist, yahooistic murders of unarmed men, women, and children, murders wholly devoid of military common sense. I said the word. It was a foreign word. That word was Nagasaki.

you know, i was having a good day.

a very good day, actually. slept in, read the sunday trib, went to the gym, then hung out on the couch and watched some basketball. around 3:00, BoyCat and i decide to be productive and make a grocery run to trader joe's. we pull back into the parking lot next to our apartment building, not 45 minutes later, to find a car in our parking space.

oh no you didn't.

but our eyes did not deceive - there's a freaking kia sephia parked in our space. now it's not like our unoffical space - it has a number, our permit has a number, it's ours. we pay $130 fucking dollars a month for the right to park in this little rectangle of cement. and MJW LAW1, according to the kia license plate, decided that they didn't care.

the car didn't have an apartment parking permit on it anywhere, so it's not a matter of someone else just taking their spot and them passing on the bad luck (which would be a dick move also, regardless). we have no earthly idea what made this illustrious lawyer decide our spot, at the back of a lot and up against a brick warehouse, was the most enticing. and honestly, i don't care what their reasoning is.

i called the fucking towing company, who are hopefully in the process of towing them right now. but it still means that we'll have to go down three flights, out through the courtyard, and behind the building a few times this evening to check and see whether the kia has finally abdicated the spot(one way or the other). in the meantime, our car is parked around the block with a visitor permit, and we'll have to go get it and move it back within 24 hours before the permit expires - hence having to do all the checking tonight.

fuckers.

things from my childhood that disturb me.

so when i was a kid, i took dance lessions. ballet, tap, and jazz from roughly the ages of 9-13 (MomCat, correct me if i'm wrong here - i'm ballparking).

this morning, i was thinking of one particular year when i was probably 10 or 11. at the end of every year we had a recital, of course, and this year was no different. my group did our tap routine to "dixieland." our costumes were soldier uniforms.

now, hold on. they weren't gray uniforms - i sigh with relief that whoever dreamed up this little song/costume combination was not that wrong in the head. the uniforms were red and black - kinda like toy soldiers, or british redcoats - and didn't even slightly resemble the outfits of those fighting "the war of northern aggression." however, the reality of the fact that at 10 years old, i did a tap dance number to the theme song of the confederacy cannot be denied. the reality of the fact that now, 15 years later, there are some sunday mornings that i absentmindedly hum in dixieland where i was born and shuffle-bal-step my way across the kitchen is also not lost on me.

i think i'm going to go to the gym, lift some weights, and ponder the way that this has affected my psyche.

a post on Being Upset.

technically, BC was not just Upset, as we were a lower seed than villanova. so the punning quality of my title is not exactly, well, quality. but i need to write this anyway.

so, yeah, BC just got beat in overtime by one point with three seconds on the clock. it was an excruciatingly painful moment to watch, that ball being inbounded and the whistle being blown. i don't want to dwell on it. what i'm more concerned about right now about why i am so upset.

i am a pretty serious sports fan, so it's not unusual for me to get worked up about a game. i was freaking out during the first round of the NCAA tournament two weeks ago. i freaked out watching a pats-dolphins game during monday night football in 2004 - it wasn't even really an important game, but it was close, and i found myself at 11:30 at night, jumping up and down on BoyCat's bed, shrieking silently because all his housemates were asleep. i freaked out during the Snow Game in 2002 - i was at a friend's graduation party at a bar he had rented out, and the bartender stayed on to let us watch the end of the game. i was jumping around like a crazy person while wearing three-inch heel knee-high boots, so i paid for it the next day. and we don't even need to get into the level of freak-out that happened during game 7 of the 2003 ALCS. seriously, that goes beyond freak-out and into clinical mental breakdown.

so, it's not that i'm surprised about being upset by the outcome of a sporting event. i'm disappointed that BC lost (and even more so at the fashion in which they lost), and i'm bummed i took a tumble in my march madness pool. but hey, it was ten bucks - i'm not going to have to go on food stamps over this. so why this tightness in my chest, this sinking feeling in my stomach?

i really don't know. i think i'm lonely. BoyCat is doing his thing at his job and internship, and that's great, and i've kinda gotten used to the schedule. some nights, it doesn't sink in that i'm here by myself until he's almost home anyway. but tonight? i feel kinda alone, and not in a good "ah, got the place to myself" way. in an "i'm lonely" way. it makes me remember that i don't have that many friends in this city. i do have some, and they're great, but unless they clone themselves tomorrow, it still won't equal "many" and i don't see them that much as it is. it makes me remember that i don't have that many friends, period. again, this is largely a self-imposed situation (what can i say, i'm picky), but in lonlier moments one can start to feel bad about that.

i'm also reminded, though it's a friday night and this should be the last thing on my mind, that i kinda hate my job and it kinda stresses me out every waking day of my life. in that sense, i have a hard time looking forward to anything. i mean, i know i won't be in this job forever - maybe i won't even be in it six months from now - but i still can't look forward to the future with any kind of optimism. i just sit here and feel like i don't have the skill set right now to move up into a job in the field that i want, and i don't want to just keep doing what i'm doing, but i also don't want to go back to making a pittance for a hard day's work.

and hell - even if (probably non-existent) god came down here, sat next to me on the couch and said, "whatever your dream job is, you've got it. just say the word, and i'll make it so." you know what? i wouldn't know what to tell him (forgive the judeo-christian gendering here, it's residual). i don't know what i want to do, and i'm afraid of floating through life on that sad, aimless, ineffectual notion.

so here i sit, in my nice warm apartment in a great city, with my sweet little cat sitting next to me, waiting for my wonderful boyfriend to come home, with money in the bank and good plans for the weekend, but whining like a baby. i see the ridiculousness here, i do. and yet, all i can hear is the droning hum of the refrigerator and the clack of the keys under my fingers. all i can see is the dust in the corners that i haven't swept and the junk that i haven't cleared away. all i can feel is something heavy, pushing down on me like the beginning of a bad dream. and my team lost.

i lost.

friday cat blogging, sweet jesus please don't do this to me edition.

i am watching the BC game. we were up 25-9. twenty-five to nine. and now? even at 28. i can't handle this. i have the tv on mute, for fear i'm going to have a slight heart attack.

in trying to not go a little crazy myself, i will post some pictures of CatCat going a little crazy. she often likes to perch herself on the edge of the couch and then try to capture her tail. sadly, she has never succeeded - yet. she holds out hope.





ok, seriously, right now i have the laptop perched up on my knees so i can't see the tv. this is too painful to watch.

two things that i love.

1. discovering Overheard in Chicago! thanks for the heads up cinnamon! now i can send in all the ridiculous conversations that i overhear on the El.

2. trader joe's. good lord, that place is fantastic. it was one of those places that, up until about a month ago, i had heard of and been inside once or twice, but never really registered on my mental radar. then i started noticing that when we'd be at friends' houses and they'd have good food and i'd be like "this is tasty!" and they'd be like "it's from trader joe's!" (and then i'd be like "far out no way!" and they'd be like "way!" and be like "wow that is like so cool." that is to pre-empt any of you making fun of me for my "like" usage. stuff it.) so then some co-workers chimed in about how great it was, and decided i had to check it out. i've been three times, and i am completely in love. their hummus! their sweet peppers! their frozen veggie burritos! their salsa! their indian food that i can cook in five minutes! it is almost too good to be true.

oh, and two buck chuck. can't forget that. and it really says something about how much i love trader joe's that i'm willing to write the word "chuck" twice in one sentence.

your wednesday one-liner.

showing love for public transit, courtesy of Overheard in New York:

Hobo: I would like to inform you of something you already know. You are all very cheap.

--L train

what??

boston.com, do not do this to me today.

what she said.

in the comments section of my previous post, i stumble around with some half-baked ideas about our culture's messed-up relationship to both marriage and divorce. i want to write more on this, because i think i will have much to say. today i found* this interview with author Stephanie Coontz on alternet, which elaborates on much of what i was trying to say in that comment thread, or will want to say in a later post. to wit:

We would be remiss to think that [marriage] was ever a stable institution. Instead, it has always been in flux. It has only been based on the concept of love for 200 years; before that, it was a way of ensuring economic and political stability. Through painstakingly-detailed descriptions and anecdotes from hunter-gatherer days to the modern era, Coontz points out that "almost every marital and sexual arrangement we have seen in recent years, however startling it may appear, has been tried somewhere before." So when we think of cohabitation, gay marriage, or stepfamilies as deviating from the "norm," we are wrong, because there has never really been a "norm."

For a country obsessed with the perfect image of the nuclear family -- mother, father and two kids -- this is eye-opening. We are trying to force ourselves to be something we never really were, or were for a very brief period of time. Instead, Coontz argues, we need to be more tolerant of and open to different forms of union. People with traditional "family values" lack the skills to adapt to social realities that have changed marriage, such as the increased independence of women.

yes! this is what i'm talking about, people. well, i'm not talking about it that much yet. but read the interview anyway - it's good.

*hat tip to the pandagon archives for the link.

one day down, four to go.

there are many richly interesting topics on which i really do want to blog. and i will. but not tonight, as i am going to eat three macaroons, watch the daily show, and go to bed.

yes, exactly three macaroons.

really, though, i've been thinking about feminism and "happiness" after that ridiculous study that came out about women in traditional gender roles being happier. this just in: the sky is blue. the happy feminist and shakes tag team this one into submission, so i really can't add much more to their brilliant take-downs, but it has gotten me thinking.

i'm also thinking about reform versus revolution, which was a central tenet in this week's read for my bookclub* (which was Assata: An Autobiography, by the way, and it was pretty interesting. so many things you don't learn in school...). is reform worthwhile? is revolution feasible? what to do if you feel the answer to both those questions is "no?"

i'm also thinking about marriage. you thought you all were off the hook, but you're not! we've got gender role expectations and the subconscious, we've got the way the word "wedding" tacks on 20% to the price of absolutely anything, we've got cultural hypocrisy about monogamy and divorce, and we've got dresses. so many potential dress dilemmas, so little time.

ok, that's all for the moment. i know it's a little bit of everything and a whole lot of nothing, but that's where i'm at this week. where i'm at right this moment is needing coconut, jon stewart, and bed.



*a little added excitement for tonight's bookclub was that i got to officially meet roni and cinnamon, two fantastic chicago feminists and bloggers and all around good peoples. though they didn't know who i was, i knew them, as i had been admiring their wit and wisdom in bookclub since before i started blogging :) so it was good to be able to introduce myself outside the realm of teh interweb.

a harbinger?

as i lay in bed last night, desperately attempting not to think about the impending work week and just fall asleep, i noticed that my left achille's heel was throbbing.

i don't take that as a good sign.

friday cat blogging, "bradley beats kansas what?" edition

as you can see, CatCat is very excited about the fact that i called it.


she's a big fan of adam morrison and gonzaga, herself. just can't resist that dirty moustache.

sorry, but i can't resist.

i have to rain a little bit on the st. patrick's day parade. check out slate's most shocking exposé of one corporation's push to litter the world with faux irish pubs.

wait a minute. you mean these beautiful wood floors and stained-glass windows are pre-fab? you mean those leathery old books and quaint little carvings on the shelf didn't really come from a country cottage in west kerry? quick, get out the fainting couch!

oh, and people, for the love of god - please don't drink any green beer tonight.

march madness - a new england scene.

setting: a warehouse in northeastern massachusetts. DadCat is working an openhouse at this warehouse with a few other guys - it is not his home warehouse, he's just there to help for the day. his co-worker from the home warehouse, tom, is manning the store there.

time: mid-afternoon.

my dad's phone rings, and he answers it.

tom (gravely): DadCat! hey, have you heard what's happening?

DadCat (concerned): no, what?

tom: BC is down by five with like thirty seconds left in overtime!

DadCat: oh my god! are you serious?

tom: yeah. i thought you'd want to know. put it on the radio or something.

DadCat: jesus. ok.

tom: all right, talk to you later.

DadCat: ok, bye.

DadCat turns to the other guys at the warehouse, who are all looking at him with stricken faces.

guy (concerned): what happened??

DadCat: BC is down by five with thirty seconds left in overtime.

guy: jesus, i thought somebody died or something!

DadCat (reaching for the radio dial): people die every day. for god's sake, this is BC basketball!




and you wonder where i get it from.....

i can't take it no more!

six inches of snow in chicago today?? what?? i went to bed last night anticipating the dreaded mixture of rain, sleet, and a little snow (i will not use that abhorrent term that meterologists use for this mix, as the word itself sends me into fits). i woke up with a forecast of six inches, and all the snow trucks and plows in the city poised and ready.

i'm sorry, but i am done with winter. done. this does not fit into my plan of increasingly warmer weather and beautiful, bright, sunshine-y days in my near future. curse you, tom skilling, curse you!

in other news:

go BC!


our gothic towers beat all those other schools' gothic towers any day.

your wednesday one-liner(s).

i've got two of 'em for you today, because i love words and the way that people abuse them. courtesy, of course, of Overheard in New York.

Teen girl: Wait, what's the intifada? Wait, do any of you speak Spanish?

--F train

Girl: I think "y'all" is singular. "Y'alls" is plural.

--58th & 9th

a public service announcement.

for those of you who, like myself, do not have the glorious opportunity to participate in an office pool for this year's NCAA tournament, fear not. your idle gambling propensities can still be satisfied.

toast is running a pool!

so if you're in the mood to obsess about college basketball for the next three weeks, or just in the mood to pick utah state to win it all and let the chips fall where they may, swing by his blog and follow the link to sign up. you can play for fun, or play for sum - it'll cost you ten bucks if the latter is the case.

me personally, i am still tweaking my brackets, so i will withhold most of my bold proclamations for a little while. i do have two things to say, though:

1 - boston college over duke in the final. sweet, sweet revenge.

2 - bradley over kansas in the first round. that's my upset. deal with it.

slouching towards technological enlightenment.

so, if you scroll down to the bottom of my sidebar look under the About section of my sidebar, you'll see i have added a delightful new feature.

that's right, you can now email me. oh, the joy and the excitement.

of course, it took me six months to figure out how to do this (thanks, toast, for the word on mail forwarding), but it is still not perfect. first, i couldn't get the "Email Me!" link where i really wanted it, which is below the "About Me" section. i could get it there, but then i couldn't get the sidebar to add a space between the link and the "Recent" header. then i stuck it at the bottom of the sidebar, but for some reason it would only put it right next to "Site Feed" and not below it. i used the powers of basic perception and common sense to notice the "li" tags floating around in my template, so i tried that, and for some reason blogger decided if it was going to move "Email Me!" down a line, it sure as shit needed to add a bullet point too.

why? i do not know.

if anyone wants to offer some html enlightenment in the comments, i'm all ears. thanks, Jaynie K!

or you could, you know, "Email Me!"

it's cold here, and my cat is crazy.

i guess those are two things you either already know, or have absolutely no interest in knowing. sorry about that.

i tried to get a little post up during the day today, but blogger was being a bee-eye-tee-see-aych earlier. really, it wouldn't have been any more interesting than this post, though, so you didn't miss much.

changes are afoot at nonprofitland. i am busy. i am hoping to be less busy in about three weeks, after i train the person who is coming on to take my old job (which i have been doing for the last two months, along with my current job) and we get some event planning stuff straightened out with a contract person, who is coming on to fill in for my other development co-worker who's leaving. leaving like, next friday. and our huge annual fundraising event is about six weeks away.

people, i am not an event planner. i will tell you that much. and luckily, my boss knows it, so i am not going to be adding "gala-coordinator-against-my-will" to my resume bullet points any time soon.

anyway, crazy shit is happening. i am attempting to be as Zen as possible about it. then again, i tried to be Zen about the 2004 red sox - yankees ALCS after game 3...that didn't work out so well. so maybe i'll just aim for being Not A Ball Of Stress.

CatCat, mix me a drink.

si, se puede.

(cc) jvoves, from flickr

i don't speak spanish. but i learned what the title of this post meant when i read the articles this morning about the huge immigrants' rights march that happened here in chicago yesterday. the trib, of course, has good coverage, but if you aren't registered, you can check it out here.

i think it's freaking fantastic that so many people showed up to stand up for themselves - that people showed up in such vast numbers that the country, and capitol hill, had to perk up its ears and listen for a minute. but what's most interesting to me is how largely unprepared the mainstream chicago media was when it happened.

i mean, to be fair, the sheer number of people surprised even event organizers. but for however off-guard people connected to the march were, the media was three steps behind them. BoyCat, who interns at a certain news outlet, noted how it really seemed like the media in town had been caught unawares on friday afternoon, and spent the rest of the day scrambling to catch up. this resulted in bizarre situations like this news outlet's reporter covering the george ryan trial around the corner while mayor daley, governor blagojevich, et al. made their fiery speechs at the rally. this meant the newsroom was scrambling for coverage of speakers, some of which didn't come through til 9:00 pm.

i think this is (obviously) emblematic of the invisibility in which most illegal immigrant workers function day to day in society. they fix our cars, cook our food, manicure our lawns and clean our buildings and homes. the chicago area got a big wake-up call to that reality yesterday, when these tens of thousands of workers walked off their jobs to stand together and be seen. and the media was unprepared because the organization of this event didn't run through their normal mainstream channels - it started via word of mouth, and then was picked up and promoted through spanish language radio. apparently, the mainstream media only keeps half an ear to the ground when it comes to spanish media, because there were only a smattering of stories about the upcoming march in the two days before it happened. i read one brief profile of a spanish language DJ who was promoting the event, and the planned march warranted a quick mention on chicago's fox news at 10:00 pm on thursday night. that's it. and then the next day, 100,000 jammed the loop, affected traffic and evening El commutes, and generally caught the whole city's attention for the day.

so, i think everything about this event is fascinating. the turnout, the solidarity, the advocacy and support. the way in which so many people were ready for an event like this to happen. the way in which so may other people were not.

friday cat blogging, it's been a long week edition.

you know life's been tough lately when:

you can't even muster up the energy to defend yourself against the catnip mouse that's tauntingly perched itself on your back.

running in heels.

i just went out to buy some soda at the grocery store around the corner. it's stormy here in chicago today, and when i walked into the store it was just drizzling, but when i came out it was full on raining. i kinda like the city that way, actually - the slick streets, the umbrellas bobbing along the sidewalks, the blur of all the neon signs against all the wet pavement.

so i'm just enjoying my little walk back from the store, dry under my umbrella, and as i turn the corner onto my street i see this girl. she's probably a few hundred yards down the street. she has no umbrella, and i'm imagining she's just coming home from work because she's wearing a skirt and carrying a few bags. when i see her, she's running towards me - not sprinting, but not lazily trotting either. she's running at exactly the speed one runs when one is caught in the rain without an umbrella, but the destination is near.

this is unremarkable to me at first. but then after a few seconds she comes within audible range, and i hear the tell-tale clicking sound. oh my god, is she running like that and wearing heels?

she is.

as she turned to dash into an apartment building twenty feet from me, i saw that she was wearing black, pointy-toed, three-inch stilettos. she was carrying three bags, too - what looked like a work bag and two shopping bags. and she ran like she was wearing nikes and just out training for a race. not a stumble, or a wince, or a whiff of hesitation or frustation about it.

honestly, i'm not sure i'll ever see a feat of such magnitude again.

running in heels girl, i salute you.

blog against sexism a day late.

ok, so i didn't get around to it last night. i went to the grocery store, then realized i should get started on my book for bookclub in two weeks, then of course there was project runway. chloe dao, america's next big fashion designer? really?

eh.

anywho, as i was traipsing around the internet yesterday reading everyone else's great posts for blog against sexism day, i came across hugo's contribution, "What I'm doing and what I have failed to do": a long and personal meme on anti-sexist work. i really liked his two part question both to himself and to his readers:

1. What are three ways in which I am working to end sexism in my personal life and in the broader world?

2. What are three ways in which I am continuing to "fall short of the mark" in terms of embodying my ideals?

these queries are thought-provoking for me, and i hope he doesn't mind that i'm borrowing this format to blog against sexism today.

three things I'm doing:

1. trying to make a career out of advocating for women's rights.

i'm not there yet, but my ultimate goal is to be working for an agency or organization that is devoted to advocating for women's rights. i'm trying to build my professional skill set so that when and if such an opportunity does arise, i've got a shot at the job. i'm also working on continuing to stay current with developments on the local, national, and global level that affect women, so as to be connected to what's happening, what's being done, and what needs doing.

2. i embrace the term "feminist" to describe my perspectives and my goals.

this might seem very basic, especially to other feminist bloggers and thinkers for whom this is second nature. it's become second nature to me to, and i never really hesitated to adopt the feminist mantle as i learned more and more about what the term meant. but for many people out there, there is still (unfortunately) a dissonance between the term and their lives. i think i'm good at never shying away from the term "feminist," and that i do my best to promote its use among other, like-minded people.

3. i work hard to live out feminist principles, not just espouse them.

in other words, i try to walk the walk as much as i talk the talk. BoyCat and i work at making our relationship as egalitarian as possible and are conscious of the way that gendered expectations can affect a relationship. it doesn't mean we always succeed at being a model "feminist" couple! just that we continue to try. there are other issues, too, that i remain conflicted about for feminist reasons (see my blatherings about marriage last month as a shining example of that!), and i try not to make decisions about them until i've thought through the implications on my feminism, my other belief systems, and my life in general. it's not the neatest, cleanest mental process in the world, but i feel it's vital and try to never get too fatigued to keep doing it.

three ways that i "fall short of the mark":

1. i could give more of my time and energy to the women's movement right now.

though i do ultimately aim to give all my professional time and talent to women's rights, at the moment there's much more that i could contribute on the ground. i don't really volunteer or work with any women's orgs right now, though i really could if i just got off my lazy butt more often. there's always work to be done, and i should be helping to do it - paycheck or no paycheck!

2. i should stop shying away from a feminist fight.

as opinionated as i am, and as much as i know that my opinions are backed up by logical, rational arguments and thus deserve to be heard, i often hesitate to really engage in a battle of wits with someone who disagrees with my position. now sometimes this is a good thing - i don't really want to be like that girl from grad school who won't sit down for a game of cards because the deck is misogynistic (the king's higher than the queen, doncha know). i also don't want to be that person that seems to pick a fight about everything. but on the flip side of that, i think i let a lot of opportunities to have a real, lively, interesting debate slide because i'm more concerned with people liking me than being right. the thing is, with many people i either shouldn't care whether they like me because they're raging idiots, or they're good rational people and would probably continue to like me even after a vigorous debate about abortion, or gay marriage, or whatever. so i should pipe up more often.

3. i should start walking the walk more when it comes to body image.

i think i've made serious strides in this area over the last five years or so, but as a woman, it's really hard to match your feminist theory with your daily reality when it comes to accepting your body. we're fighting such a tide with pop culture and its size 2 norms, it's so ubiquitous and insidious at the same time, that it's hard to wake up every day and think "i'm fine the way that i am." i can do it sometimes - i should try to do it more.

ok, that's enough introspection for now. thanks again to hugo for the format, it got me thinking.

a note.

no links, though, i promise. i just wanted to pop up and say that i know today is blog against sexism day. i know i have not, as of yet, blogged against sexism. but i'm going to try to later tonight, if i can think of something more coherent then "um, ahhhh, sexism's bad, k?"

don't hold out too much hope.

honestly, it's mainly that the last two days at nonprofitland have been The Suck, and i'm not sure how much brainpower i will have left by this evening. i'm going to try to marshall the brain cell troops, though, because regardless of my tiredness levels, i would have to slap my own wrist with the Bad Feminist ruler if i didn't take a few moments out of my night to blame the patriarchy!

oh, crap, but you know what? the finale of project runway is on too! shit. that's going to be some serious multi-tasking - handicapping the fashion week race, and sticking it to The Man at the same time. this should be interesting.

linky, continued.

women of america, have you gotten the creeping sense that something is amiss lately? that some strange movements are afoot?

rana breaks it down for you: guess what? it's been decided that you're not quite human.

linky linky.

earlier during my lunch hour, Broadsheet kindly directed me to this LA Times op-ed about abortion, overpopulation, and superstore worship.

i like it.

i was going to wish you a Happy Pulaski Day.

but then, i walked over to the library on my way home from the El, even though my legs were killing me from lifting weights at the gym yesterday (hey, gotta start somewhere). i arrived at said public library, darkened and shuttered, and found a notice on the door that says they are closed in observance of Pulaski Day.

damn you, little local holiday that's cute and fun to celebrate, right up until it inconveniences me in some way. i would try to get mad at you, but as SisterCat pointed out on her first visit to chicago, your name is just so fun to say.

pulaski.

what??

ok, the golden globe i could see. but the academy award for best picture - Crash?? are you fucking kidding me?

what a tragedy.

i need another drink.

some live, semi-drunken oscar blogging.

overheard in our aparment so far tonight:

"interpretative dance! interpretative dance!" --BoyCat, encouraging me to come back to the living room as i was finishing mixing my (second) margarita in the blender, during the performance of some song from Crash. the set was on fire, too. for real.

"oh, my. how déclassé."* -- me, after watching the March of the Penguins winners walk up holding giant stuffed penguins.

"this, from the girl downing her third margarita and wearing yoga pants??" -- BoyCat, in response to above critique.

"the antichrist is brought to you in part by Lexus." -- a voiceover heard on the History Channel, during a commerical break from a two-hour special on the antichrist.

i'm not sure we'll be able to top that last one.

*thanks elizalou! now i am a word/blogger ninja.

on a lighter note.

i forgot to mention that the other day, i think i got my best google search yet. someone found my blog with the query "why does camille paglia hate everything?"

sadly, my friend, i can only provide you with rumor and conjecture as far as this goes. i imagine only her team of (hopefully well-paid) therapists knows the truth.

there is no reason why.

today around 3:30, i opened up cnn.com while sitting in my cubicle at work. i had 15 minutes to kill before i had to go run an errand with my co-worker, so i figured i'd peruse the day's headlines. amidst the other stories on the front page, one in particular caught my eye. i knew i should not open it. it was a salacious headline, a headline about something awful that had apparently happened to somone. i knew it led to a story that i didn't want to know, and didn't need to know. and yet sometimes, the masochistic impulse is too strong.

don't go to cnn and try to figure out which story i'm talking about, please. because you don't want to know. really, you don't. and if you already know, you don't want to be reminded. it is one of those stories that corrodes your faith in humanity to the degree that you can start to feel air whistling through the gaps. it's the kind of story that makes you cover your mouth with your hand instinctively, because though the urge to vomit may not be happening physically, it is happening in your mind.

i had to get up out of my chair and go lock myself in the bathroom, so that i could cry in private.

and here it is, four hours later, and i can't stop thinking about it. i am trying so hard to think about anything else, to distract myself, but it keeps fighting to the forefront of my consciousness. what happened to this person is so heinous, so unspeakable - what happened to this person is my worst fear realized. and it's not fiction. my worst nightmare happened to someone, in a real place, in real, agonizing time. and right now, honestly, i don't know how to deal with that.

i am writing about it right now because i don't know what else to do. there is nothing else to do. it's a reality that is sitting in my stomach, in the middle of my person, like an anchor. i feel like it's poisoning me with every passing second. it feels that way because it is unchangable - it happened, it's true, the world really is this way.

and of course, the crux of the problem is that i can't alter the fact that the world just is this way. not only can i not change it, but i also don't have a belief system with which to cope with that fact. i don't believe in a benevolent god. i don't believe in a malevolent god. i don't believe in multiple gods, i don't believe in fate, i don't believe that "everything happens for a reason." there's no good reason for what happened to that person, or all the other people who suffer tremendously and needlessly and who live awful, unappreciated lives or die tragic, hopeless deaths. my only belief is that there is no reason why. and that is of no comfort whatsoever when one comes face to face with the bottomless cruelty of humanity.

really, when i think about the wanton atrocity visited upon this person, i unconsciously draw in a deep breath, because it's like i almost start to drown in the thought. it is too much, and my body rebels against it.

i don't know when i'll forget about this particular story. maybe tomorrow, but not likely. maybe next week. maybe it will stay with me always, lodged in the part of my mind that stores fear and anxiety. but what i do know is that eventually, there will be another story on cnn.com that i know i should not read - another story that will remind me of everything i do not want to know.

i need to catch up on my ted casablanca, apparently.

via educand, i am amazed by this paparazzi-esqe picture of jake gyllenhaal looking unbearably adorable. and completely gay.

adorable, and gay.

what is going on here? am i the last to know? who is this man with him and, as a commenter under the picture notes, why is he wearing that awful mood ring?

i am so confused, but i will get to the bottom of this. next stop: E! online.

little known fact: a wedding band provides you with improved breaking time and better peripheral vision.

so i called our insurance guy at allstate the other day about, well, an insurance-related matter. we actually only have renter’s insurance through allstate, and i wanted to see if we switched our car insurance over there too if we could end up paying less.

our insurance guy, michael, is very nice. he asked me a few basic questions – my and BoyCat's ages, what car we drove, how many miles we put on it, whether we had any recent accident claims or moving violations. after getting my name, and noting that it was different than BoyCat’s name (the renter’s insurance is under him), he asked if we were married. i said “no.” a few minutes later, he said again, “so you’re not married?” again, i said “no.”

he spent a few minutes crunching the numbers, and then let me know what the rough estimate would be on our monthly payments (unfortunately, still about 20 bucks more than we pay now). i told him that we were paying less than that now, but i was hoping since we had both turned 25 since getting our last policy, that it might have ended up lower. he said, “yeah, well turning 25 did help. your next big dip, though, will come with marriage.”

*arches eyebrow*

i said, “really? the only real way for us to get our insurance cost down is to get married?” he said, “yup.” i said (trying to keep my voice from resembling a screeching howler monkey), “that’s ridiculous! i mean, having a marriage certificate doesn’t make me a better driver! i’m a good driver now, i don’t need a wedding ring to prove it!” he understood my pain, of course, but pointed out that statistics show (lies, damned lies, and statistics!) that married people are safer drivers than single people, so there you have it.

i’m not going to sit here and argue with statistics. i’m sure they do bear out that assertion, and that there’s a whole fucked-up psychology behind it that goes something like “oh man, i’m married [and thus probably have kids, or will be having kids] now, so suddenly my life is valuable and i don’t want to lose it doing 95 mph on the Dan Ryan and wrapping my car around a concrete barrier.” but hey, that’s not me! i value my life right now, actually! and i am a good driver, i brake slowly (sometimes), i don’t cause accidents and i don’t get speeding tickets. why should i be penalized for everyone else’s messed-up psyches??

sometimes being held under the thumb of The Man really chafes. especially when the pressure reaches my wallet.

your wednesday one-liner.

from Overheard in New York, this one goes out to all of you who have ever worked in a bookstore. for a summer, or a year, or off and on for almost a decade (you know who you are!).

Lady: There was a guy that was helping me before. He's really smart and it's like he was reading my mind. Do you know where I can find him?

--Borders, 57th & Park

ohmigod.

am i total snob? because my mouth literally dropped open when i read this.

outrage of the day.

at 7:30 this morning, i opened up the trib's homepage and came across this delightful headline:

Alleged Rape Victim Threatened With Jail

*rubs sleep out of eyes, hits self over head with sledgehammer, reads headline again*

yup, that's what it says. i know the trib is restricted, so here's the gist:

A Naperville woman who on Tuesday refused a judge's order to view a videotape of her alleged rape could be jailed on a contempt of court charge if she does not change her mind Wednesday, and the judge is considering a request to drop sexual assault charges against the Burr Ridge man on trial.

"I am ordering you to answer these questions," Judge Kerry Kennedy told the woman after an hourlong recess to discuss her refusal. "The consequences are that you would be held in contempt of court, with incarceration possible. Are you still refusing?"

"Yes," she responded.

"I will give you overnight to think about this," Kennedy said. "Tomorrow, I will ask you again."

The woman was 16 years old when she allegedly was assaulted and videotaped four years ago at a party in the Burr Ridge home of Adrian Missbrenner, 20. He was one of four men charged in connection with the incident, and his trial on charges of aggravated criminal sexual assault and child pornography began Tuesday in Cook County Circuit Court in Bridgeview.

obviously, i don't even know where to begin. go check out Scott Lemieux for a qualified legality take. though i don't know the ins and outs of whether this is legal, it is certainly beyond-the-pale despicable. there is question as to whether the sex was "consensual" (isn't there always?), but the accuser says she had been drinking heavily and has no recollection of the incident at all. given that "prosecutors say the tape shows her unconscious as people spit on her and write derogatory words on her naked legs and abdomen," i feel like the debate about the "consensual" nature of the incident is pretty moot.

and really, what answers could this girl give after viewing a videotape of her own rape that she couldn't give otherwise? what is on the tape that couldn't be described to her? what, for the love of god, is the point?

oh right. brazen intimidation and rank misogyny. we've come a long way, baby.

(thanks to Broadsheet for the Lemieux link)

"got shame?" because if not, here's some free of charge!

oh my goodness. cartoon cows. modesty zones. the unironic use of the phrase "got shame?". the requisite Muu-Muu jokes in the comments section.

all in all, a classic pandagon post.

ok, ok. no need to yell.

i had a spam email in my bulk folder today with a subject line that read,

Don't be fat!

i don't need this kind of abuse so early in the morning.

thawing ground.

i don’t remember what month it was. it was in the vicinity of spring – the season had either recently arrived, or was waiting in the wings for its entrance cue. the days were blustery with winds that came right over the Berkshire mountains and across the valley, but the sun was warm against a cheek, or a forearm exposed by a rolled-up sleeve. at night, people walked Main Street, buying coffee from Rao’s or carrying triangular take-out boxes from Antonio’s. i was a senior in college.

i must have driven through town to get there. i imagine it was already dark when i arrived. where did we meet? on campus somewhere – the parking lot, on the corner by Bowden gym, outside a dorm in Southwest? somewhere. at some point, long after the sun had gone down and the people – the people who lived in all the little glowing squares that were windows that were dorm rooms – had ventured out to wherever it was they were going. we walked across four lanes of sparse traffic, along the sidewalk that bordered the soccer and lacrosse fields. there was a steep incline – how did we get down? maybe we didn’t take the sidewalk at all, maybe we walked straight onto the field from Massachusetts Avenue.

we walked far enough to escape light. at least, the light that blurred out all sense of sky. those fields were huge – my freshman year i had a panoramic view of it from my 18^th floor dorm room, where i could see past the fields and the athletic complex to mountains, and eventually a tree-tipped horizon line – so walking far enough to look up and see stars was possible. once light was sufficiently snuffed out, we laid down on the ground, tucked our hands behind our heads, and looked up.

the night was cold in the way that any early spring night is cold – it gives you a chill, but not a hopeless one. i had a coat on, and i had it pulled tight around me. i laced my fingers into my hair to keep them warm.

we talked about a lot. he told me about his family, his past, the things that he had struggled against and the small victories he had won. i talked, too. i talked about where i was going, why i was going (or so i thought), what mattered to me and who mattered to me. we talked until the cold of the ground seeped through the layers and grasped at my back, lodging a dull ache in my calves and the back of my skull. i shivered once or twice, and he asked if we should probably go back. i said yes.

i remember that night. of so many nights that winter and spring that i have forgotten, of so many nights that must’ve seemed like they were so important at the time, i remember that one. others too, of course, but i find that hour laying in the chilled, thin grass of that field swims up out of the depths quite often.

the funny thing?

i’m not sure who i was with.

i mean, i am pretty sure i remember him – i am pretty sure the “him” i am thinking of is also the one who laid next to me and shared tiny, luminous bits of his life story. in the part of my mind that can’t see, i know who it is. in the part of my mind that remembers in broad strokes, there’s only one person it could be. but those months, the last few months of college when i packed in more drama and heartache and beauty than i had experienced in the 3 ½ years preceding, have become an eddy, a tidepool. everything has settled together, gotten still. people and places have spots of startling clarity, and swaths of blurred meaning. and so, while i know who it was, i am also just a little unsure.

even so, i am content with the way that i remember that night. i am happy with not quite knowing. i am content with a sense of the weather, but without a name – with a sense of thawing ground, but without a face.

monday morning fashion issues.

black and brown. together. on the cover of the field's weekly. breaking of a cardinal fashion rule, or evidence that i have no idea what i'm talking about when it come to clothing? discuss.

friday cat blogging, take me to your leader edition.

i know, a day late. but let's still title it friday cat blogging and pretend like nothing's different.



there's not much i can say about this picture, other than that i am highly amused by it.

like, whoa.

UPDATE: ok, so i was off on the paper - it's the Post, not the Times! good on you, Holla Back.

to all the peeps coming from HollaBackNYC - can someone tell me why there's so much holla-traffic? was there a profile of them in the Times or something?

my links from Holla Back are through the roof this morning, and i'll be damned if i can figure out why.

oh, and thanks for coming! feel free to stay and look around. my ramblings and general incoherencies are here purely for your amusement.

today.

i am filled with despair.

i can hardly walk, from the weight of it.

i fill my days with jokes about wedding shows, and lighthearted conversations about the weather, and homemade macaroni and cheese, and elliptical machines at the gym, when all around me the world is slipping further and further into darkness.

"i can't go on. i'll go on." right?

wedding shows.

i know one would assume from the critical tone of my previous posts about all things marriage, that my posting about wedding shows would certainly only be in order to condemn the voyeuristic, capitalistic, materialistic shallowness of it all. but, as SisterCat so eloquently put it to an amherst bouncer years ago, "you don't know me."

because seriously, i love wedding shows. love 'em. really, are wedding shows not the most enjoyable form of guilty pleasure tv viewing? wait, don't answer that. but sometimes, i just seriously can't tear myself away from this stuff. wedding story on tlc? check. bridezillas on WE? check. real weddings from the knot? oh, you better believe that's a check. those ones are my favorite, because you're never quite sure what you're going to get. it could be a perfectly nice couple having a perfectly nice wedding, or it could be a crazy sorority sister has-been and her over-hairgelled fiancee, arguing with each other about his bachelor party, crying over the hem of a dress, and bitching about how the center pieces were not supposed to be that high!

and the weddings themselves! hoo, boy, don't they just offer a great opportunity to see event trainwrecks in action. so many opportunities to be petty and judgemental! tonight, for example, i caught the last ten minutes of a bridezillas episode, and it was the reception following the ceremony. the husband was giving his new wife a "toast," and i put that term in quotation marks because i'm not sure if it was a toast that aspired to be spoken word poetry, or a really slow jam, or what. he had the mic, and was saying things like "baby, you know i love you. i. love. you. and this is for real. you are my wife. and i love you." all this, over a soundtrack of some Pure Moods-slash-porn music playing in the background. she's getting all teary-eyed, dabbing her eyes with a hankerchief, while i'm sitting on the couch going "what...what is happening? what is going on?"

this, folks, is entertainment.

so, regardless of my healthy distrust for the institution of marriage, i will never give up my wedding shows. you might think that at some point, i'd have enough of the histrionics and the unflattering bridesmaids dresses and the crazy parents, but you'd be wrong.

your wednesday one-liner.

courtesy of Overheard in New York. beware the IRS...

Hobo: The tax man has a licence to kill. No questions asked. More people should know that.

--5th Avenue-53rd Street station

carrying the torch.

in light of The Dino's absence, i am trying to help you, loyal readers, to expand your head. you've probably seen this floating about on the internets, so take a few minutes and check out this editorial from the NYT, a Pop Quiz on Marriage. the answers might surprise you.

*hat tip to Broadsheet. if you get a registration page with the above link, try clicking through here - i was able to get in without a login from Broadsheet's link.

work posts.

they are a little link heavy, i know. but they're good links! links you should read! links you will love!

at least, i hope you will.

anyway, jared passes along this fun article from the Washington Post on The Tricky Emotion Between Idolizing And Despising.

brokeback mountain.

deborah has a great post up about brokeback mountain, so go check it out. she makes a great point about why everyone who disavows the fact that it's a "gay" movie is wrong.

and if you haven't seen it, christ on a crutch, would you go already? and don't read deborah's review until you do, because there's spoilers.

this...

...is how it starts.

*ok, i changed the link, no need for registration now.

marriage.

i stole this from Kameron, because it made me laugh. i hope she doesn't mind.

i was trying to think about how to start breaking the issue of marriage, and my own feelings and confusions about it, into something managable. it's difficult. but i think a good place to start is to point out that in my own life, i see the decision of whether or not to get married as actually two separate decisions: whether to get married in the eyes of the state, and/or whether to get married in the eyes of my community.

obviously, most people just kill two birds with one stone and do both - they sign a marriage license and have a wedding ceremony. some people have specifically religious ceremonies, others secular communal ceremonies. on the other hand, some people are fine with just killing one bird, so they forgoe the ceremony all together and spend 30 minutes at city hall. on the third hand, some people don't bother with the legal paperwork but have a ceremony of some type where they make wedding vows (for gay couples in any state other than massachusetts, this is unfortunately their only option).

so, i guess when i think about it, it's three options (oh great! like i needed more than two): marry legally, marry communally, or marry legally AND communally. funnily enough, i have problems with all three of these ideas.

i won't subject you to all of my problems in this post. but i will touch on the first option, marrying legally. most would argue that the point of marrying legally is not so that you can bask in the warm glow of governmental approval, but in order to access all the legal benefits of marriage: tax breaks, property rights, visitation rights, etc etc etc. seems like a no brainer, right? but it bothers me that the state is pretty much offering me incentives to marry. it's like when i offer my cat a treat as an incentive to not scratch the furniture. (or just to get her close enough so i can grab her and toss her in the cat carrier. i'm so cruel.) i sit here and think, you're not the boss of me! i didn't just fall off the turnip truck here, i see what's going on!

well ok, i don't really think those things. but they're fun to say.

here's the thing: i think that a lot of the benefits accorded to married people, both immediate and tangential, should be accorded to everyone regardless of marital status. i should be able to go through a process of establishing visitation rights with BoyCat without having to be married. and don't get me started on health insurance. the fact that BoyCat and i would have to be married in order to be covered under each other's health insurance sucks major ass. ever hear of partner benefits? it's the new wave, corporate america, let's catch it!

i know, i know, someone is going to throw out the "but you can't just let anybody claim partner benefits on anyone else! roommates shouldn't be able to be covered under each others insurance! blah yada blah!" this strikes me as the "but people shouldn't be allowed to marry their dogs!!" insanity about legalizing gay marriage. it is possible to control for this sort of thing in the way laws are constructed and enforced. if we wanted to be a society that was open and accepting to partnerships that don't fit within the traditional bounds of marriage, we could do it. we just don't want to.

so, what's a radical feminist girl to do? turn her back on all those marriage benefits because she sees that the system which bestows them is corrupt? then she pays the price of a lifelong relationship without legal protections and levels of uncertainty no one should have to deal with. does she capitulate, taking advantage of a system that her gay friends aren't even allowed to access and in which she doesn't necessarily believe, in order to save her own skin? then she pays the price of a conscience that feels let down and a nagging feeling that giving in certainly isn't the way to advocate for change.

what's a girl to do?

surprising, and yet not.

it's cold here. i believe the technical term for yesterday's weather in chicago is "butt-ass cold." today looks to be slightly better, and so i am actually going to venture out of the apartment, go to the gym, do laundry, buy groceries - all those thrilling weekend activities that i so sadly missed out on yesterday. there is a bookclub potluck tonight, where we pick the books for the next six months, and i kinda want to go. however, i have nothing to bring for potluck and nothing to suggest for a reading. so, perhaps not, unless some serious inspiration strikes.

and now, for your "surprising, and yet not" fact of the day. on saturday, when shani davis won the gold medal in the men's 1,000 meter speedskating competition, he became the first black person in the history of the winter olympics to win an individual gold medal. think about that for a minute. try to come up with a good reason for it, other than a statement that begins "well, black people really don't..."

and just in case you ever think i sometimes sound like a "hysterical feminist"...

UPDATE 3: holy shit! that second link is broken now too! this is getting way too sci-fi for me, because yesterday, these fucking posts were there. now they're not. and you're starting to think i'm crazy, but i know i'm not crazy, but the more i try to convince you i'm not crazy the crazier i sound. so without further ado, here is the post that one of the other now-defunct posts credited with finding the image (i just happened to remember the name of the blog and got lucky finding it). if i wake up and this is gone tomorrow, i will check myself into a mental institution.


UPDATE 2: ok, try this link instead.

UPDATE: how strange - apparently now the link only shows a messages that says we are unauthorized to view this page. i double checked that it worked last night after i posted, though. hmmmm. so, for now, nevermind. but i will get to the bottom of this...

...please click on this link (warning, not exactly safe for work).

i have spent the last 15 minutes trying to figure out if these playboy ads are for real. the fact that i had to devote even 10 seconds to that question should remind you that, regardless of whether they are or not, misogyny is alive and well.

*hat tip to Jaynie K for the link.

a turning of tides.

i'm not shutting up about marriage yet. actually, i haven't even gotten to marriage yet, i'm only going to shut up about engagement after this post. so many issues, so little time.

i mentioned in my last post on the subject that despite all my misgivings about the idea of getting engaged (and thus getting married, but again, that's almost a whole 'nother ball of wax), i have not ruled it out for BoyCat and myself. why? short answer: i dunno. isn't it obvious i'm just flailing about through life with nary a clue as to what i'm doing?

long answer:

i'm guessing that the seat of my reluctance to completely buck the trend of engagement is social conditioning. i know, it's not as sexy as repressed memories or the revelation that i'm the second coming of elizabeth taylor or anything, but i think it's true. no matter how rationally we can parse something, no matter how resolutely we can claim to be beyond the need for something so obviously socially constructed (and thus socially controlling), the undertow of what is expected can pull us under. that's the way social conditioning works, for gods sake - if it weren't so persuasive, would everybody be doing it? not to sound like i'm channelling a fundie here, but marriage is a cornerstone of how our society functions - the nuclear family, and its gender roles, are intrinsic to maintaining the status quo. and it's any society's ultimate aim to maintain the status quo and keep things humming along smoothly.

but feminists, myself among them, don't want patriarchy to keep skipping along on its merry, injust, dehumanizing way. radical feminists don't merely want to allow women to be able to play a man's game - we want to change the way the whole game is played. so as a radical feminist, when you see all the ways - subtle and glaring, insidious and overtly threatening - that society asks you to shut up and play along, don't you want to challenge that? when you see the way that the path of serious relationship, engagement, marriage, children, house in the suburbs is what's expected, when you're told that's what you're supposed to want, don't you want to say "pardon me, but fuck that"?

i don't know about you, but i do.

however.

i feel like my life is often a turning of tides between two poles - the pole of stasis, stability, conformity, what is expected, and the pole of dynamism, movement, rebellion, what is unexpected. i'd like to say that the ideal way to handle that is to find a way to integrate these two forces in my life - to allow for a little bit of both. but i think that's too easy. i think one side of you would always be accusing the other of treachery. but maybe that's the price you pay, maybe that's the way you have to compromise.

i will get engaged. i won't wear a diamond ring. i will wear a physical signifier of the engagement. i will try to figure out a way for BoyCat to wear one too. i will tell people i am engaged. i will smile inside each time they look down at my empty left hand, and look up again in confusion. i will entertain questions about the dress, the location, the cake, the flowers. i will have a warehouse of slightly sarcastic answers if the questioner is annoying me.

maybe this is all true, maybe it's not. to get back to my short answer, i honestly don't know. because really, we haven't even scratched the surface of the fundamental issue, which is behind why people get engaged in the first place: marriage.

before i can seriously answer the question of whether i want to get engaged, i have to figure out if i want to get married.

call for submissions.

Mind the Gap is calling for submissions to the 9th Carnival of Feminists! The optional theme for this carnival is Feminism and the Body, and the deadline is February 19th. So, go stop by and submit one of your posts, or nominate some other friendly feminists!

happy valentine's day. kisses and all that shit.

ok, no marriage-related musings from me tonight. it's been a long day, beginning with BoyCat and i squirting antibiotics down CatCat's throat, tossing her in the cat carrier, and my driving her to the vet at 8:00 a.m. then work, where i had a good day except for this one moment where i really wished i had nunchucks or some other destructive weapon. after that, there was the sharing of way too much personal space on the El, then running back to the apartment to get the car to go pick up a groggy CatCat from the vet. phew.

however, since it is valentine's day, i will share with you with two thoughts - love and not love.

something that i love: rollergirls on A&E. those bitches kick ass.

something that i do not love: the kotex ad campaign that says, "have a happy period." i honestly do not have the words with which to explain the kind of rage this inspires within me.

nunchucks, seriously. i'd like some.

otherwise engaged.

ok, so last time around, i threw out some hypothetical questions about the nature of "getting engaged" and whether maybe, sometimes, it's not entirely necessary. didn't get a whole lotta feedback there. but that's all right, because i'm hardly sure what i think either.

i realize the practical nature of getting engaged in terms of setting a "beginning" and an "end" to the wedding planning process. i figured someone would hit me with that one right out of the gate, but no one did! of course people need time to plan a wedding. it could be a vastly different amount of time for different couples, depending on if you're talking 500 people at the Plaza or two in Vegas, but there's time involved nonetheless. however, when you think about it, the only necessity of "engagement" is the concrete agreement between two people that, okay, let's get married, and let's do it this way, and let's do it at this time. because you can start planning then (and, if you're going for the two in Vegas option, you don't even need to tell anyone else that you're "engaged"!).

so, the practical side of engagement seems to be taken care of with the agreement between two people to marry. i'm cool with that - you have to decide one way or the other sometime, right? but it's the rest of the trappings with which i am less comfortable. where to start, where to start..

1) the gender roles of "getting engaged"

you'd think, in this day and age, that we as a society would at least be an itty-bitty bit comfortable with the idea of women proposing to men. however, i don't think that we are. i think it's still seen as this weird, devious, aberrant thing about which people are just polite enough to say "oh, well isn't that nice", barely contain a smirk, and then go gossip about in the hallway. (you might try to contradict me on this, saying "but my aunt/friend from college/co-worker proposed to her boyfriend!" well sure, that may be true, and good on her. that doesn't mean society at large is ok with it yet.) and i will be totally honest here - the reason i know society isn't ok with it is that deep down, i think a part of me would not be ok with proposing to BoyCat instead of the other way around. gasp! i know. behold the power of social conditioning. in the long run, i don't think that little voice in the back of my head whispering "but that's not how it's done" would be enough to stop me from doing anything regarding engagement and weddings - there's too much contrarian in me to allow for an excess of conformity - but i cannot deny that it is there. and the whole thing is so fucking patriarchal, i don't even need to tell you. you know.

2) the diamond ring

this is obviously a symbolic extension of the above issue, but with a little extra objectification thrown in. the tradition of the man proposing to the woman follows the old line of women being things that are "won," objects to be bought and sold (if you think i'm exaggerating, go brush up on the history of marriage. i'm not going into it here, because it's enough to make me swear off the institution forever if i think about it too much). the diamond engagement ring embodies this issue. two people get engaged, yet only one is expected to wear a physical signifier that she is "taken," "spoken for," "off the market." why is there no cultural expectation for a man to make manifest his promise of eventual marriage and fidelity? oh right, because he's not the commodity.

3) engagement parties

i don't even really need to justify this frustration, do i? i mean seriously, could you be more crass? you're already having bachelor and bachelorette parties, a rehearsal dinner, a shower, and a freaking wedding where people will practically throw money at you just for showing up in a white dress and a tux. for gods sake, stop panhandling! i worked at a country club as a function server one summer, and engagement parties were hands down the most annoying functions to work. weddings were more stressful, but engagement parties - good god. the materialism, the cattiness, the self-congratulatory smugness! hey, you just got engaged, you didn't cure cancer - get over yourself! if i had a nickel for every time i wanted to punch some bride-to-be, or her maid-of-honor-to-be, or her mother-of-the-bride-to-be, well, i'd be able to afford that destination wedding that BoyCat and i joke around about.

that's all i got on engagements for tonight. phew, all that verbal fist-shaking is tiring. next up, a consideration of why, even in light of all these glaring problems, i have not ruled out this time honored tradition for myself.

i must be crazy.

love and marriage. and then some.

so roni really kicked some shins (in a good way!) with this post the other day about marriage, and how it’s way too complicated for our society to be pressuring so many people into. that is my super-condensed nutshell of her point, but go read her post because i’m obviously reducing a bit. her post got me thinking about the issue of engagement and marriage, which, let’s be honest, is something i think about a fair amount because a) it’s a really crucial sticking point in a lot of feminist thinking and criticism and b) it affects me personally. this is not only an abstract question that i can ponder theoretically, but one that i will have to make a concrete decision on in my own life in the somewhat near future.

so. in honor of that scurrilous Hallmark holiday, valentine’s day, and the concomitant obsession with all things romantical during the month of February, i am going to take the next few days/weeks to ponder the issues, as i see them, around engagement and marriage. why not? i don’t think i’ve really pissed anyone off with this blog in a while, so i’m due.

that last observation was sarcastic, sorta. i would like to put out this disclaimer, however, before i begin my random, disconnected, and intermittently brilliant analysis of all things betrothal. i do not – i repeat, do not - condemn anyone for making the choice to marry, or not to marry. we all do the best we can with what we’ve got, and i respect that there are wildly divergent opinions around this topic. so while i lay out my own concerns, questions, and comments about the venerated institution of marriage, i ask that you hold in you mind that my observations are not a personal indictment of your choices, whatever they may be. i’m just working my way through all this like anyone else.

ok, so. before i even get to the headliner of marriage, i think we need to start with the opening act of engagement. obviously, “getting engaged” in our society is as much of a tradition as “getting married.” but while the two are inextricably (well, sorta) connected, they are technically two different things. while one could get married without having been engaged, for many people, this is not the way things “should” work – if you go that route, you’ve been aberrant. the way it’s supposed to work is that after a certain amount of time together as a couple – i’d say a year to three years is probably the average, but i’m sure someone’s done a study somewhere – you get engaged. the way you get engaged is the male half of the couple asks the female half of the couple to “marry him,” preferably while offering up some physical token to symbolize the engagement. ok, preferably a one-to-two carat diamond in the classic tiffany engagement ring setting – but any diamond will do. the woman wears the diamond ring as a signifier that the couple is engaged, and roughly a year to two years later, the couple gets married.

ok. i understand how this tradition has continued through years and years (though the diamond part is relatively new, regardless of what DeBeers wants you to think). but in the era of co-habitation and a later average age of marriage, is it just me, or does this whole thing start to feel a little antiquated? i was thinking about this today as i watched the umpteenth jewelry store commercial (seriously, valentine’s day can’t come soon enough. if i never see another treacly ad with a jewelry box and a woman looking surprised, it will be too soon). i was ruminating on the term “engaged.” back in the day, i can imagine an explicit agreement to marry as being an escalation between the literal “engagement” between two people – the way that they factor into each others lives. but now? in certain cases, it seems a little superfluous. i look at BoyCat and myself, and that fact that we have joint car payments to make, and rent to cover, and a cat to take care of, and shared food bills and vacations we’ve taken and trials we’ve seen each other through, and i think, hell, we’re “engaged.” i’m not sure we could be much more “engaged” in each other’s lives at this point. so what exactly would a ring and a waiting period do? how exactly would this tradition serve us? since we have agreed upon the fact that we want to be together forever, regardless of whether that means marrying or not, what does the middle ground of engagement really offer?

ok, this post is long enough already. more to come on engagement and other things, like why pale girls with freckles shouldn’t wear white anyway, my odd fixation with wedding shows, and the issue of equality and justice being played out on the marital stage.

comments and insults, as always, are welcome.

friday cat blogging, psycho killer edition.

last week, you saw her laying on the bed like a little sweetheart. that only gave you half the picture, though. here is CatCat engaging in her other favorite bed-based activity, which is rolling around like a lunatic.



she tends to do this pretty much every time BoyCat or i come home after work. it's like she pents up her energy for the 8-odd hours we're gone, and then lets it all loose the minute we walk through the door. this results in the manic posturings featured above.

crazy wench.

thank you, cary.

i am usually ambivalent about cary tennis' advice in his salon column - he can be too wishy-washy, too ephemeral, too inscrutible. he can be plain old wrong as well. but today's column is worth a read, because he really nails it. a grad student writes in about not knowing how to tell his more-well-off friends that he can't afford to attend their destination wedding. a snippet:

...every time someone tells the truth about money in America it makes me happy.

It makes me happy because I know the power of money to shame us into distorting the truth and abandoning our values. We might become artists or musicians or study arcane and little-understood phenomena, we might live more simply, we might dedicate ourselves to what we love, we might take time off from work to improve our lives and our relationships, we might spend more time with our children, if it weren't for the fear of not having enough money, or appearing to not have enough money.

And we might indeed have enough actual money to do what we need to do if we were realistic and honest about what we need, and did not spend money to avoid being shamed or excluded or misunderstood or thought poorly of.

Rather than say, "I'm sorry, your destination wedding in Hawaii does not fit my budgetary plans for fiscal year 2006," we say, "I'm so happy for you, I'll be there!" We pretend to have money that we do not have. And then we create for ourselves a set of unreasonable expectations. We attend a wedding we cannot afford to attend and give gifts we cannot afford to buy. And then we pay later. We pay with our time. We pay with our dreams.

(emphasis mine)

yes, yes, yes - a small, squeaking voice of reason amidst the cacophony of consumer insanity! i know these observations probably seem self-evident to most of us, but in society, i think this perspective is often shamed and shouted down into silence by pop culture, by advertising, by product placement and stock tickers and corporate logos on school gymnasiums and national parks. it makes me happy to see someone, anyone, fighting that tide. bravo to you, cary.

drinking alone, and other recreational activities.

if you've been keeping up with The Dino (a.k.a. BoyCat on this blog...so many pseudonyms to keep straight), you're aware that this week he started his new gig at WGN radio. however, he is also still working his part time job at Big Nonprofitland, so for the next three months he will be working from 9 a.m. - 10 p.m. every weekday. this means, of course, that now i have to figure out how to feed and amuse myself, without his assistance, every evening from now through the middle of may.

for those of you who know me (and even those of you that don't, because i'm sure by now you have some sense), this is obviously going to be a daunting task. for instance, i gathered up all my proactive resolve and mental fortitude and went to the grocery store after work. this was my list:

spaghetti
marinara sauce
brown rice
red beans
chex mix
melba snacks
frozen spinach
rum

i am not quite sure how i am going to fashion this into a week's worth of dinners, but i'll come up with something. tonight's meal was stovetop stuffing and five spinach puffs from the freezer, so things can only improve, right?

in all seriousness, i am going to be very lonely without BoyCat around. even though we've been together for three years, i never tire of being around him, hanging out with him, talking with him. i've had other relationships where fatigue sets in much more quickly - where after awhile you find yourself wanting the other person to just go away. just go away, just for today, or just for tonight, so i can breathe and be alone and relax! but i can say with all honesty that i have never wanted BoyCat to just go away. but now he is away, and i need to figure out how to make the best of it.

any recommendations?

wednesday one-liner.

ok, this one just made me laugh out loud. i don't know what that says about me.

Guy on cell: No, Grandma. No, shut up! Grandma, I'm going to fucking kill you!

--14th & 4th

reading material.

the newest Carnival of Feminists is up over at Gendergeek. links, links everywhere! go get 'em while the gettin's good.

a question.

why would one not utilize the mute button on the remote control when the Choxie chocolate commercial comes on?

personally, i was about three-quarters of the way through one of these exercises in aural pain when i realized the error of my ways.

more camille hate.

for the love of god and everything holy, why do i read anything underneath camille paglia's name? why do i do it? i have never really considered myself a masochist, but at these moments, i have to wonder. so please, allow me a moment to rant.

at salon.com yesterday, camille oh so helpfully chimed in on a piece about Betty Friedan's Legacy. among numerous other political and academic luminaries, camille's entry stands out like a tantrum-throwing child in an upscale restaurant.

camille, is it possible for you to write six paragraphs about an icon of modern feminism and not reference yourself? well lookie here, apparently not! camille, is it possible for you to write six paragraphs without referencing madonna and her centrality to sex-positive feminism? results come back negative.

and please, please. i know your level of self-delusion is staggering, but consider this: there is no current strand of feminism that "rules the roost." except, maybe anti-feminism. so please, get off your high horse for two seconds and think about the fact that there's still work to be done. most of your readers are more concerned with that fact than whatever you wrote in a letter to newsweek in 1963, or whether you think your side has "won".

your egomaniacal prattling does a disservice to the name of feminism and feminists everywhere. do us all a favor and shut up.

a first.

so, i have just heard my first tornado siren. i sat here with a look of puzzlement on my face, and my co-workers had to clue me in. i said, "uh...but it's february." they said, well, they test them on the first tuesday of every month.

i have lived in this city for over a year, and i have never heard a siren being tested on the first tuesday of every month. however, our new offices are very close to the Loop, and i just heard one, so apparently the city of Chicago only cares if people downtown die from a giant funnel cloud. i can only hope i'm here in my cubicle when a tornado swoops in, and not in my apartment in Lakeview.

christ, the midwest is a weird place.

terrible, in a good way.

i'd just like to take these last few minutes of my lunch hour to say congrats to the Steelers, and all their fans, on emerging victorious from Superbowl XL*. they had a great post-season run, beating the one, two, and three seeds from the AFC, and doing it all on the road. that is impressive enough, but i'm glad they were able to take it all the way.

i also need to comment on the fact that, at our friends' superbowl party last night, they had a sandwich with french fries on it. that's right, french fries on it. that was a first for me, and a wonderful first it was. hooray for pittsburghian food.



*seriously, i will never fully understand roman numerals. if i had to guess what forty was, i would have guessed XX, but i would've been totally wrong because X is ten, not twenty. XL is actuall 10-50, but since the big number comes after the little one, you subtract little from big. get it? yeah, me neither.

this is totally unnecessary. therefore, i must share.

blogger has apparently been having some problems for the past two days. i couldn't get my post up on friday, then posted it on saturday but it timestamped as friday, and then last night i couldn't access blogspot blogs. hmmm. it also looks like jayne's blog is having "technical difficulties" - don't go there, though, she wants us to stay! away! - and i hope she hasn't lost stuff.

this makes me realize that i haven't really backed up any of the posts i have here - and i'm coming up on 200 posts, so it's becoming a not inconsequential amount of writing that i stand to lose. how do others deal with this? should i just print everything out (at the office, naturally) to have hard copies? copy everything to word and take up disk space? what's the standard industry practice here?

anyway, on to the totally unnecessary stuff. did you hear sheryl crow and lance armstrong broke up? i know, i really don't care either. however, look at the picture that goes along with this article. holy shit, she looks awful! and not just bad hair day awful, but like eating disorder awful! what happened there? and why have i heard nothing about the fact that sheryl crow suddenly resembles a drowned cat?

oh, right, because i don't read Us Weekly. shoot. well, i guess we all make compromises in life.

friday cat blogging, invalid edition.

CatCat owns this bed. we used to think that when she bothered us in the morning, it was because she was hungry, but really, it's because she wants us out of the way.

so CatCat went for her yearly check-up at the vet this week. $200 of shots and bloodwork later, we have discovered that she has chronic inflammation in her gums (kitty gingivitis). ok, doesn't sound so bad, right? that's what BoyCat thought as the vet was telling him about it, but then he noticed the serious look on the vet's face and then it was like, "oh shit." apparently, kitty gingivitis will eventually be really painful for CatCat, and she'll have difficulty eating. this will result in weight loss, and ultimately the deterioration will progress to the point that she has to have her teeth pulled.

yes, you heard that right - one day, we will be the proud owners of a toothless cat. and there is really no preventing it, unless the issue happens to be an allergy instead of an immune system problem, and if we can pinpoint what that allergy is. otherwise, we will give her antibiotics and steriods and dental cleanings...and she'll still eventually lose her teeth.

so, on valentine's day, CatCat and i have a date with the vet. there will be no dinner or presents, though, unless CatCat counts being put under general anethesia, having her teeth cleaned (and possibly pulled, if too decayed), and having a biopsy of her gums done as presents! somehow, i doubt she will be happy about the arrangement.

poor CatCat.

readjusting.

so today, someone from the Citadel found my blog by googling "punishing kate." that disturbs me.

you know what else disturbs me? the way that Duke is starting to pull away from BC here in the end of the first half. the beginning of the game was actually really exciting, and BC was in it, and i thought "hey...this could work out."

wishful thinking is a sad and admirable thing.

i might not be posting as much in the next week or so, as i attempt to readjust to the commuting life. for the last 17 months i've been walking to work, and for the last five days i've been taking the train. i am slowly starting to remember all the things i so hated about commuting back in boston. i can't stand the dogfight to get on and off the train, i can't stand the creepy guys who look at you funny, i can't stand the people who screech incessantly into their cellphones, i can't stand the nausea of swaying slightly back and forth, back and forth, for 20 minutes. but do you know what i really, really, really hate? hate with a capital 'H'? hell, HATE in all capitals?

i hate the people who, when they get on a train with no more available seats and they know that there are people behind them also trying to get on, still stop two feet inside the door and set up shop along the handrail in the middle of the aisle. these people are scum. these people are the lowest of the low. these people can think of nothing but themselves, and should be kicked in the shins repeatedly until they fall down.

anyway, it's obvious from the above incoherencies (is that a word?) that overall i'm a little tired and disoriented. it's going to take me some time to absorb all this extra commuting effort into my days and still manage to formulate relevant thoughts. or full sentences. or both.

awww, they just showed gasson hall! i went there! go BC! try not to lose by 20....

happy birthday, you bitches.

imagine my delight in coming home after a long day at work and discovering the latest edition of Bitch magazine on my coffee table. and their 10th Birthday issue, to boot!

i had gotten a few email newsletters and updates here and there, so i was aware that their 10th year mark was coming up, but browsing through this issue really brought home what an accomplishment this milestone is for a magazine like Bitch. it's a cold, hard world out there in magazine publishing, and even more so if you're determined not to depend on advertisers that will hopelessly dilute and/or openly contradict any attempts at feminist analysis. so i just want to take a moment to publicly thank Bitch for being a little feminist lifeline in my life - for being the one magazine that i am always happy to see. though i may not always agree with some of the writers or the ideas found within its pages, Bitch is a welcome respite from so much other media that assumes i have the attention span of an eight year old and an I.Q. roughly equivalent to my waist size.

if you don't have a subscription yourself, well christ on a bike, what are you waiting for? go get one!

they just keep coming.

seriously, i am getting a silly number of hits around josh from the true life: i'm moving to NYC episode. i can tell when MTV re-runs it, because i get half a dozen people just desperate to learn more about josh and his wisconsin ways.

anyway. i wanted to get a substantial post up over lunch, but alas, the hour has gotten away from me. file cabinets arrived - yippee. these bankers boxes strewn at my feet have really started to bother me. so now, it's time to start methodically eliminating them from my workspace.

god, i hate tuesdays.

ok, so.

tonight, i watched an episode of #1 Single, that new show on E! about lisa loeb and her trying to find a man in new york.

i kinda loved it.