I haven’t posted a feminist rant here in a really long time, so PULL UP A CHAIR. I’ve been feeling really irritated about the whole self love thing lately, and it took me awhile to articulate why to myself, but I think I’ve finally figured it out.
I’ve been busy and I’ve also been thinking about being busy, and about jobs and women and parenting and families, and I think that all of the arguing boils down to the fact that, for ordinary people with ordinary energy levels, only the following configurations are possible:
But everyone must go over to Buzzfeed and read this letter that the woman who Brock Turner raped read to him in court. It’s very long and very depressing, and for many of us, it is a sunny summer weekend, and yet, you must read all of it, down to the last word, no exceptions. I’m insisting. Best go ahead and get it over with now!
After much thought, I think I have arrived on the final set of three wishes I would make should a genie ever present me with the option:
- Make me independently wealthy, such that forever after I will have all the money I want to do whatever I feel like doing without ever having to work for it or worry about it.
- Make me a white American man who looks exactly like Jon Hamm.
- Give me an IQ of 160.
I’m assuming that these wishes would all be in addition to whatever I already have; and not any tricksy nonsense like I get all of that and then also, surprise, I get inoperable cancer that will claim my life in one month or some shit. I would receive these three wishes only and NO OTHER CHANGES. I’d get this clarification first, in writing, and if this wasn’t the deal, I wouldn’t make any wishes at all.
Also, note that these wishes are those that will set me up personally for the maximum success and enjoyment a person could potentially have in the world we find ourselves in today. I would not waste my wishes on a better world, as I’m not convinced this particular one we’re living in will even make it more than a hundred more years into the future. I just want to have a good time with whatever time I have, and if I had the three characteristics above, my life would be BANANAS fun.
I guess if I’m going to do these, I need to do them more frequently, because this is going to be super long. Here’s all the stuff I’ve read over the past couple of months, if anyone is interested!
I am moving to Austin in like three weeks and downsizing from a three bedroom, two living room house to a small one-bedroom apartment. The only thing on my to do list for today was to start packing (and possibly culling?) my approximately 400,000 books.
As of 11:00am, I have packed exactly zero books, but I have ordered nearly $80 worth of Philip Larkin volumes to be delivered sometime this week.
I need therapy.
I had a lot of things I needed to do this evening, so naturally, I started making a list of all the books I would hypothetically buy for the starting library of any children I might one day have.
When we start equating privilege with bravery, something even worse occurs: we suddenly view the opposite of those acts as complacent, and even cowardly. That staying at a job you hate is somehow ignoble (spoiler: it’s not. If someone works tirelessly at a job they hate in order to support themselves and/or their family, that is pretty damn admirable). Or that not hating your job means that you’ve just bought into some great American lie. That settling down is somehow settling for less.
As one of the privileged few myself, I have often been surprised by others in my circle looking down on those who for various reasons weren’t having as much fun as we were having. Let’s all have respect for each other and our choices! If you are good to your people and to the people around you, then you are doing life exactly right. Everything else is just icing.
About a month ago, I met some friends/coworkers in New Orleans. We were ostensibly there to run the Rock ‘n Roll Half Marathon, but only two of the five of us actually were registered for it, and then we ended up just being couch potatoes all February and failing to train, so in the end, we decided just to do the 10k instead. All of which is to say, we were really just in New Orleans to hang out and have fun. I have some family who live in New Orleans, and I used to spend summers at their house when I was a kid, but this was my first time going there as an adult.
By my second semester at college, I had somehow managed to make a couple of actual friends. I’d also moved out of my first terrible dorm room situation and into another, slightly less terrible one, and I had finally fully broken up with my voice teacher and the music department. The first half of the year 2000 sees me growing gradually more accustomed to college life. It also — I’m not going to lie — involves my expressing some frankly horrifying opinions in a shameless and unguarded way which so appalled me on the reread that I nearly gave up the idea of doing this as a blog series and instead deleted all of my years of Microsoft Word files.