Campfyre Stories

Ok, I get it, I really do.  I get it enough to have become a "productive" member of the time sink known as Facebook.  I don’t garden in real life at all, in fact, I kill plants just by looking at them, but I do the virtual garden thing.  I have more friends who are members than I expected and I know a lot of the people from the "People you know" thing, even if I don’t particularly know them very well.

But there are a few things I just don’t get.

I mean, as long as I know the person who’s requesting the "add" from me, I’ll add them, but somewhere along the line I think that the whole business of "friendship" got lost.  Not that these people aren’t my friends, in fact, a lot of the people on my friends list are really more like family and extended family, but I wonder about old high school acquaintances…  I have several on my list right now and if any more invite me, I’ll surely add them, but a couple of them I can’t really recall.  I know we went to school together, or at least together-ish, but I don’t think we ran in the same crowds or went to the same social events.  There are only one or two that I would actively seek out to spend time with as adults, and they’re the ones I tended to seek out back then.

I guess I just don’t know what the rules are.  I noticed a bunch of people from high school who I liked or respected way back then, but I had to really search to remember who they were.  Should I add these people I could barely remember, in the hopes that they’ll actually remember me?  I think not, only because I wouldn’t want to think of myself as that unmemorable.  Again, it’s not like we were really *friends*.  Of my actual friends from high school, the vast majority of them have pretty much disappeared on the face of the planet as far as I’m concerned.  The few who haven’t are already on my friends roster.  I guess I expected Facebook to be more about renewing old friendships than creating new ones, or the semblance of new ones.

To further complicate matters, I can’t even really place most of the women.  I mean, those who married and changed their names I may not ever figure out who they were way back when.  Even more bothersome is how many more of the women have protected or hidden profiles, so I can’t even look at see if it’s someone from high school or old pictures or something that will jar that memory in.

Again, if they friend me, I accept, provided I can figure out that I do, in fact, know them.  But it all just seems rather odd to me.

I don’t feel like I’ve bolstered very many of my friendships through here, although I do feel like I have some fine delicate thread that connects us, one that is both easier and harder to sever than the ties with the people I see or speak with on a regular basis.  I suppose it will make it  harder to actually LOSE touch with most of these people, but it’s just as easy to fail to communicate with someone on Facebook as it is to not call, not email, not contact by any other means.

I don’t know.  Conceptually, I like it.  I like the idea of what it’s supposed to be, but the reality of it seems lacking. 

Eh.  At least it’s still less ear/eye-bleedingly painful than MySpace…

I am single.  Well, to be accurate, divorced, but unmarried nonetheless.

I am a mother.

Therefore, according to most people, I am a single mother.  I suppose it’s accurate to some degree, but I reject the label.  To me, single motherhood is tied up with someone who is doing it mostly on her own.  My son not only has a father, but he has an involved father, he has a real dad who is there for him and spend time with him on a regular basis.

I’m really a part-time mother, not a full-time one.  Since I only have Spawn literally half the time, I can’t embrace the idea of motherhood being a full-time job for me.

In some situations I am given special privileges for being a "single mom".  To some extent I resent this, since I know that I’m worth the same treatment without it being special.  On a completely different level, I accept it, since it allows the people giving that treatment to feel like they’re doing some greater good in the world, even if the recipient tends to not have to face the problems that many single mothers in the US actually face.

Someone told me that my rejection of this label was some kind of middle-class guilt mentality.  I took offense to this, since it came from someone who is struggling at near-poverty levels to try to achieve the semblance of a middle-class "normality", where I probably qualify for middle class in terms of income, but not mentality in every other situation.

The reality of the situation is that I always find pity in the "single mother" discussions.  I suppose in polite company we could call it empathy and compassion, but it’s really pity.  There’s this concept that any mother who doesn’t have a husband or boyfriend or some kind of partner is at a disadvantage.  In my situation, my son is rarely pitied, but I am.  People know that Spawn has a father who is part of his life, Equitably part of his life, but since I don’t have that other half, I’m somehow missing out, or less fortunate than others.

I disagree.

The time I spend with my son is unhindered by a need to share that time with others.  In these teenage years, he has a mother who is, not only devoted to him, but also willing to give him space.  He can learn from me that women are capable on their own, and depending on what his father and step-mother show him, that sometimes they can even do better without a man to care for them or support them.

I’m not alone in raising my son.  I’m not even a sole parent in raising my son.  If he doesn’t suffer from the situation he grows in, then why is it assumed that I’m somehow in need of special treatment?

It’s unfortunate how many aspects of life this permeates.  Men who are potential partners are scared off by the "single mother" stigma, assuming that I’m looking for a father for my son.  Not only is he a teenager, but, again, he has a father.  I’m not looking for someone to replace the Dragonmaker in Spawn’s life, but the conversation rarely gets that far.  I’ve come to a point where I rarely mention my son to potential romances, at least at first.  I want everyone to know that those stigmas that are haphazardly applied to me don’t fit this strangely-shaped peg.

I don’t think I’m being noble.  I don’t think that I’m trying to avoid an accurate representation of my situation, but I think that beyond the etymological meanings of words, there are societal meanings that cause stigma and taboo to be applied to words and phrases that, by rights, should be neutral.

I don’t know how to reconcile it. 

I accept the special treatment.  I poo poo the pity when it’s offered.  I try to talk people out of putting me into a category where I do not belong and prefer to not find myself, but it simply doesn’t help.

I am a single mother who doesn’t fit the societal meaning of the word, even if the etymological definition is convenient for the rest of the world.

Have you ever been in a crisis situation?  Like an actual situation where people are in danger or hurt and you, among others, need to keep it together?

How did you do?

You know, after coming back from Falcon Ridge, I read a number of accounts of the major storm we weathered on Sunday.  It wasn’t until days later that it was labeled a "mini-tornado" (mini because there was no touchdown of a funnel).  I honestly believe that not knowing what was happening and not having that "Oh my gods, it’s a TORNADO" thought looming over us was a big part of what kept people from panicking.

As I stated before, there were no major injuries.  Some people lost some things, but considering the number of people there, it really wasn’t much.  In fact, people stayed really together and focused while it was going on.  Which is not to say that things didn’t get pretty hairy out there for some people, but sometimes you have to put your fears on hold and come back to them when the situation is already resolved.

People keep talking about what "should have" been done, or what "should be" done in the future.  Things like sirens that will alert people to emergency situations or larger security patrols.  The more I think about it, the worse an idea it seems to me.  Again, I think that part of the reason that people didn’t panic was because we didn’t know we should be.  We didn’t know what was going on.  We didn’t have time to think about what we should do.

Some people immediately drove offsite, which isn’t the smartest thing to do in that weather.  Some people wouldn’t or couldn’t get to shelter, needing to prevent their gear from causing damage to other people/things, to find members of their party who were lost or to help "save the world".  Sirens blaring in that situation wouldn’t help anyone at all.  All it would do is cause people to freak out and no longer be calm while still not offering any advice on what to actually do.

To me, with the exception of emergency vehicles sirens sound like:  Panic!  Panic!  Panic!  Few, if any, of them actually offer viable information that can be used.  In fact, if I’m in my house (for example) and I hear a siren blaring, I am most likely going to STEP OUTSIDE MY APARTMENT to find out what’s going on.  I’m pretty sure that the sirens indicate that people should behave in exactly the opposite way to that, but since the noises have never been explained to me (and still occur from time to time), I don’t know what the appropriate response really is.

But if I’m IN an emergency situation, a crisis situation, I know what to do.  Not to be able to plan ahead, but I’m able to assess the situation and fill whatever needs present themselves.  Sirens will distract me, make me wonder what the hell is going on and cause me to panic, at least a little bit.

So what do you think?  Have you been in a crisis situation?  How did you handle it?  How do you react to sirens or other indicators of emergencies?  Do you think that people are more or less likely to handle a crisis well without actually knowing what’s going on?

… but apparently, people who know me are, once again, reading way too much into what I write.

So start here:  You’re So Vain.  Then come back.

Done?  Remember that?  Good.

This vanity is something I really just don’t get.  There’s this self-absorption that some people fall into that makes them think that everything I say MUST be about them and, frankly, when it comes to the blog I am sick and tired of it.

This is the part where I actually do talk about and, a little bit TO, someone else.

A friend of mine told me about someone else who read, what I can only assume is, this post and turned it into something that was targeted to two specific people.  Guess what, it’s not.  It’s about a laundry list of people who have been so completely ineffectual as MY friends that I refuse to put any more effort into anything anymore.

Here’s the straight dish:  a few months back, I almost gave up on something that I’ve been doing and enjoying for close to 5 years because of the hassle of including other people.  It became a burden and one that yielded nothing but MORE WORK for me, and work I didn’t want to have to do.  I brought it up with the ONE person who actually matters to me in relation to the situation and we ended the extra work and went back to what made it enjoyable in the first place.

That’s where it all started.  Not with recent events, not with specific outings, but with a fun, inclusive idea that started to ruin a long-held tradition.

Since then, I have found myself losing patience with (again) a long list of people who have not, in my opinion, been holding up their end of the friendship.  Not only does it make me question those people, it makes me question my judgment in people and, specifically, some of the ones I choose as friends.

If I am the one who has to initiate conversations, almost exclusively, then you are not being a good friend.  If all my invitations are rebuffed, then I’m going to stop inviting you places.  If the start and finish of our "friendship" is on your terms, then I’m out.  I do not have the time or patience to bust my ass maintaining a one-sided friendship.

That said, it doesn’t take much to BE my friend.  Even if I’ve emotionally swept you out and written you off, it doesn’t take much to reignite friendship with me.  All it takes is a little bit of effort on your part and I’ll give it right back, but at this point, if you’ve already been cleaned out, then you’ll only get from me as good as you give and if you never took me up on my invitations, they won’t start coming again anytime soon.  It’s not worth the feelings of rejection that I have to deal with.  It’s just not.

I’m not sure which is more insulting, the idea that this so-called friend decided that I was petty enough to start writing people off over a single situation, or the fact that he not only didn’t say anything to me (and hasn’t said anything to me in weeks) but started talking shit about me to OTHER PEOPLE who may or may not have even been involved.  Probably the former more than the latter, but either way, fucking insulting.

Nosy or voyeuristic, bored and having nothing to do or actually interested, I think that the vast majority of people who know me in person should probably just not read my blog and, instead, TALK TO ME.  Because this site isn’t anywhere near the full range of experiences I have, nor is it the full span of stories I could tell  Hell, I even setup a Plurk account so that I could micro-blog some of the crazy little things that I see, hear, experience, whatever and there is still more that goes on and never gets written down.

I went to Portland to visit a friend of mine who reads my blog and we still had things to talk about.  I had things to say that weren’t posts on the blog.  Amazing, isn’t it?  I see Princess at least once a week, we talk on the phone several times a week, we email almost every day and, despite the fact that she reads my blog, we still have things to talk about…  a lot of things, actually, we both really like to talk.

Not even half of what goes on in my life gets posted here.  I have a strong personal ethical code that guides my blogging.  Notice that I don’t really talk about work and, if I even do, I don’t give specifics.  Notice that the only REAL names I use up here are those of people who use their real names online in some form.  Notice how many times I have said "Not for public consumption" or "Not my story to tell (online)" or something else to that effect.  Some of those stories DO get told, but privately and, generally, out loud as opposed to written down.

And there is still no category for "Other People’s Drama".  Nor will there ever be.  I don’t have the patience for OPD and when it affects me directly, all it does is piss me off, so I write about how I got all pissed off and it’s my reactions and my emotions more than it is about whatever some anonymous person did.  Most times I don’t even bother with their details, only my own reactions.

So get over yourself.  It’s not about you, it’s about ME.

Sometime around when we hit puberty we form these definitions of "cool people".  They are the desirable friends, sometimes unattainable.  Certainly there are stereotypes, but it’s also very subjective.  The A/V nerds in high school, for example, generally didn’t crave acceptance by the jocks and cheerleaders.  The theater kids weren’t trying to get in with the rockers, but there were all different levels of cool, depending on where your interests lay.

I don’t think that ever goes away.  I mean, sure, not everyone gets into that state where they’re looking for acceptance from the "cool people", but the people who do tend to not ever really shake that feeling.  They identify the characteristics of the people they want to affiliate with and try their best to be included in their groupings.

But there are always some who just don’t fit the mold.  They may consider Group X to be "cool people", but they simply don’t fit in for whatever reason.

I’ve always been a fringe person.  I’m never going to really fit into mainstream society.  My background is very unusual and my experiences are out of the ordinary.  I don’t take to labels, I don’t fit in boxes and all of that tends to mean that other fringey people consider me one of the "cool people".  In this particular instance, I’m talking about the fringey people who are geeks, nerds, freaks, weirdos…  they are drawn to a combination of my unique upbringing, my intelligence, my math-based interests (technology, music), my hobbies and my quest to Know All Things.  Girl often refers to it as "flypaper for freaks", which is accurate, if simplistic.

And the problem that I find is that I have very high standards for the people I choose to consider friends.  I have high standards for intelligence.  I have high standards for levels of knowledge on subjects you claim to be passionate about.  I have high standards for levels of tolerance for things outside your ken.  I’m picky as hell about everything, and people/friends are included in that.

That said, once I’ve decided to let someone in, I will tolerate a lot, but the letting someone in part takes quite a bit of time.  Also?  Standards.

I don’t have a lot of patience for people unless I care about them, so if someone decides that they want to be my friend, and I’m simply not interested, it really only serves to annoy me.  The harder they try, the more annoyed I become.  It’s not that I’m adverse to making new friends, but I’m not going to lower my standards to be a pity-friend to someone I don’t particularly like.

I guess that makes me a snob.  I’m sure it makes me SOUND like a snob at the very least, but I don’t even add random people (unless they’re musicians and I like their music) to MySpace.  If I’m that picky about my virtual friends, how could I ever be less picky about real people?

You see, the people I consider my friends are people I can count on.  Not always for the same things, but if I am in real need, I can count on them and they can count on me.  I also know what, exactly, I can count on each person for.  I know who to ask if I need emotional support.  I know who to ask if I need a social boost.  I know who to ask if I need to just get out of town for a couple of days…  and in return, I like to think that my friends know what they can count on me for, and that they will whenever they need it.

The other thing about my friends is that they are also, generally, "cool people", at least within their own fringey niches.  These are people who are sought out by others and they tend to be rather selective about the people they let in, too.

Yesterday I was talking with a friend and a co-worker about how I was going to need help with learning something new, and, unfortunately, most my friends who are experts in this particular technology have moved out of town, so I don’t know if they can help.  My friend  said he’d help as he could, but my co-worker said, "Hey!  What about me?"  It took every ounce of my self-control to not say out loud, "You’re not my friend."  That would have been rude, but true.

Because he’s not my friend, and I don’t really think he’s going to be.  I’ll make nice, I’ll make conversation, I’ll go to lunch with him if he asks, but after about 20 minutes of his trying WAY too hard to be my friend, I’m over it and getting annoyed.

And the weird thing is that I don’t often consider myself one of the "cool people" because I’m rather strange, very nerdy, fringey, pushy, opinionated, etc., etc., etc.  I’m surprised when people seek me out and make an extraordinary effort to be my friend and it tends to turn me off when people try too hard.  I can and will talk to just about anyone, but unless they capture my interest, I’ll wander off, if only in my head.

Maybe this is mean.  Maybe this is snobbish.  But the bottom line is that it is what it is.  It makes me feel like a bad person to be so exclusive about the people I take into my inner circle, but I’d rather feel like a bad person than wind up surrounded by people who stress me out, piss me off or straight-up bore me.

Which is not the same statement as "I like money".

I have ALWAYS appreciated currency, both foreign and domestic, in part, because my father did and passed that interest on to me.  I don’t particularly collect currency, but I enjoy seeing the differences in the currency of various countries and to be familiar with the anti-counterfeit measures taken on our own currency.

I was really excited about the redesign of the $5 bill, just as I was about the $10 and the $20 and the dollar coins.  When my brother, Chaos, got a $5, he showed it to me very excited because he knew I would appreciate it, though most others reacted with a blasé "So?"

Money, as a concept, often flummoxes me.  I think I’m not in the minority in that.  I don’t understand the intricacies of the economic systems of the world, though I do try, but currency as an art form draws me in.  I love to be the person who talks about how "In God We Trust", "e pluribus unum" and the year of minting are written around the edges of the Presidential dollar coin and how, unless Jimmy Carter dies before they get that far, they’ll release the Reagan coin and Jimmy (and George, Bill and George) may never actually get one of their own.

I notice when my change has something other than an American coin in it and I get a kick out of showing it around.  I can feel the difference between a pre-1965 silver quarter and a more current copper-nickel quarter.  I *never* mistake a Susan B. Anthony dollar for a quarter and I check the dates on all my coins.

I agree with the concept of getting rid of the penny, since pennies cost more than $.01 to produce, get lost or hoarded and smell bad.  I don’t understand why Americans are so reluctant to embrace dollar coins (I think they’re really cool and better to flip than a quarter).  I wish that the $2 bill was more prevalent.  I have opinions on most denominations of US currency and want to see (examine) all the new money as soon as possible, and then pass it on, because that’s what money is FOR.

Yeah, I really appreciate currency, for all that I don’t really care all that much about money.

"Perfect" is subjective.  Everyone has their own idea of what constitutes perfect and, often, it’s different for various situations.  I think, though, that everyone has a fairly-well defined concept of "perfect".

No drama, no conflict, no damage, no missteps.  Does that sound perfect to you?  Not to me.  To me, that sounds boring.  I don’t think I could live a happy life where things didn’t EVER go wrong.  The bottom line is that when bad things happen, that’s when you reevaluate, adapt and change.  If nothing ever went bad, there would never be any motivation to change, only stagnation and that’s pretty far from perfect I think.

I’ve know people who had the stereotypical perfect life and they were miserable in it.  I’ve had situations that were perceived as perfect, but made me miserable because there was nothing interesting going on.

I live an interesting life.  Things happen regularly that are unusual or even downright bizarre, but I wouldn’t change that even if I could.  I thrive on random occurrances, even if they are a little embarassing or inconvenient.

I’m prone to telling people that I’m not happy unless I have something to complain about.  It’s absolutely true.  The rare occassions where things are going so well that I actually have nothing to complain about, I complain about how disconcerting it is that nothing has gone wrong in a while and how I’m waiting for the bad to happen.  I kid you not.  There are plenty of people who can attest to this.

So what is perfect?  For me, perfect is understandable and makes sense.  Perfect is a moment in time where everything falls into place and brings with it a feeling of completion.  Perfect is the moment just before a first kiss when you’re still quivering with anticipation.  It’s the moment just after completing a long, difficult project when you take a deep breath and say "I did it" before anyone else can say a word.  Perfect is having a secret or, better yet, an in-joke that comes up in a broader conversation and the perfect moment is the knowing smile, nod or wink that the two of you share quiely, without anyone else noticing.

Perfect is small and fleeting.  It can’t be captured, only stumbled upon.  If you look for it, you’ll spend your life chasing rainbows, but if you stay alert, you’ll find it regularly, and often where you least expect it.

I think that’s the problem.  So many people are pursuing an ideal of perfection that not only does not, but cannot exist.  They’re looking for something that perhaps fits their definition of perfection, but that would turn out to be exceedingly flawed if they ever happened to find it.  For these people, the perfect house would never need repairs, instead of having the right number of rooms, a beautiful lawn and low energy costs.  For these people, the perfect mate would never do anything annoying, would always have the ability to read minds and would never create or allow conflict within the relationship.  For these people, the perfect children wouldn’t have minds of their own, they would do everything their parents told them and would never misbehave.

I wonder how many people truly believe that that concept of perfect actually exists in reality.  Far too many certainly believe in the possibility, enough so that they make themselves miserable for not having achieved perfection on any of those fronts.  I have to wonder whether or not they’re missing out on the perfect moments in the search for something greater than themselves.

While I look for perfection in small ways, or, more accurately, look for more perfection or to fill the gaps, I still find comfort in the perfect moments as they come.  Fleeting though they may be, they do come often enough to remind me that perfection can and does exist, if only in small ways.

Attention anyone who communicates in writing!

The entire point of communication is to be understood by the people with whom you are communicating.

Teh hole point of cummunication is 2b understood by teh ppl your talking to.

You may not like it, but I’d bet that you understood the second sentence as well as the first, laden though it was with spelling mistakes and incorrect grammar.  If you understood what I was saying, then my grammar was sufficient to the task.

The extent of your vocabulary doesn’t matter.  The more $.50 words you use, the fewer people who will understand you.  If you use jargon, people who are outside of the area to which that jargon applies will not understand you.

All of this applies to any form of written communication, be it email, internet postings, submitted papers for publication, etc.  It doesn’t matter what your purpose in writing is, the ultimate issue at hand is whether or not your audience is going to understand what the hell you’re trying to say.

The entire point of communication is to be understood by the people with whom you are communicating.

Teh hole point of cummunication is 2b understood by teh ppl your talking to.

For the most part, we fall somewhere in between correct grammar and internet-speak, perhaps leaning to one side or the other.  "They" say that the optimum reading level for which to write is 8th grade.  What that means is that when you write for a general audience, you should be writing in such a way that anyone with at least an 8th grade education can quickly and easily comprehend your point.  While this may seem "dumbed-down", you have to consider that the vast majority of Americans do not read on a regular basis.  They are literate, but not literary.  The 8th grade reading level assumes that *most* people will be able to easily understand you.

Even more than not being understood, a big problem with writing at a high-level is alienation.  If you are trying to make yourself seem smarter by using obscure or uncommon words, one of two things are likely to happen.  Either your audience will look up the unknown word (if the meaning cannot be garnered from the context) or their eyes will glaze over and they won’t take in what you’re attempting to convey.  There is a limit, however, to the extent to which people will go to understand the words you choose.

The problem comes in when people perceive you as using too many high-level words or phrases.  In the attempt to be seen as intelligent, people who are actually intelligent will begin to suspect that it’s merely a ruse and you’re using those words in order to seem something you’re not.  People who are less intelligent (perhaps than you actually are) will perceive you as pretentious and looking down on them.  Either way, this causes you to become alienated from your audience and, regardless of the validity of the points you’re making, you become irrelevant to the situation at hand.

The entire point of communication is to be understood by the people with whom you are communicating.

Teh hole point of cummunication is 2b understood by teh ppl your talking to.

Grammar nazis on the internet, then, are actually hurting the cause of writing by picking apart incorrect grammar when it already was sufficient to the task of being understood by the target audience.  If the information being conveyed is readily understood, then your work is complete.  If the information being conveyed is well-structured, grammatically correct and filled with high-level vocabulary and it is not easily understood, or it is easily misunderstood, then you have failed in your attempt to contribute to the greater discussion.

Get it?  When it comes to basic communication, it is less important to be correct than it is to be understood.

The problem with l33t-sp33k is that it is hard for many people to understand and/or decipher.  It should be considered a niche dialect of English and not fitting for general communication.  The problem with aLtErNaTiNg CaPs or ALL CAPS is that it is difficult to read, and therefore to understand.  It’s not cute, it’s not clever, it’s a lot of work to go to for people to not understand you.  The problem with poor grammar and bad spelling is that it causes some people to be compelled to prove themselves smarter than you.  That said, unless it is really atrocious, it doesn’t actually cause or facilitate a lack of comprehension.

Again, if you understand what I am saying to you, then my grammar is sufficient to the task.  That is the only thing that matters.  If you’ve decided to write in such a way that people will have difficulty understanding what you have to say, then you might as well say nothing at all.

At the very least, others will wish that you had.

This entry was inspired by the coloring book "Girls are not Chicks".  Above is an image (used with permission) from the book that really spoke to me.  I encourage you to check out their site.

I think that the word "feminist" has gotten a bad rap.  It’s all too often believed to mean "women are better than men" as opposed to the more realistic "men and women should have the same rights and reap the same rewards for taking the same risks".  Part of that has to do with the stereotype of militant feminists at the beginning the feminist movement in the US.  There’s a measure of extremism that was necessary in order to get it off the ground, but also, extremists tend to be more vocal on any topic than moderates.

I consider myself a feminist.  Anything men can do, women can do.  Not better, not faster, just can do, also.  I believe that there are situations where men are better equipped to handle themselves and situations where women are better equipped to handle themselves.  I don’t believe that equality means lowering the standards of a job description in order to allow the opposite sex to participate, I believe that it means "if you meet the criteria, you should be a candidate."  I believe that whoever gets to the door first should hold it for the people who are in the immediate vicinity.  I believe that anyone who needs assistance should have the door held for them.  I hold doors open for men, women, children and I expect they will do the same for me if the alternative is me being hit by that door when/if they don’t.

I have a friend who is kind of the antithesis of a feminist.  It’s not that he disagrees with equality, he just thinks that men are often more oppressed than women and that women complain about things that men have worse, that one of the effects of feminism has been to both de-masculize men and to deride them if they behave in ways considered to be effeminate.  As I was composing a rough outline of the things I wanted to say, I realized that he’s not entirely wrong in some of that thinking.

The whole concept of the metrosexual movement is that men should embrace some of the major oppressors of women.  They are encouraged to follow the fashion industry, to spend additional money on beauty products, to rid themselves of unnecessary body hair, to create themselves in ways that will cause society to rank them among the "beautiful people" without regard to who they are/how they feel inside.  It’s less prevalent in men than in women, but it’s becoming more common.

And is this really the answer?  To have some semblance of equality do men have to become more like women and women become more like men?  It’s a common thought, regardless of the amount of truth in it.

Honestly, the whole male/female, masculine/feminine dichotomy is something I’ve battled with quite a lot in my life.  I’ve never been all that stereotypically feminine.  I don’t put crap in my hair, I don’t use makeup, I don’t buy clothes based on what’s in fashion at the moment, I’m not demure, I don’t need help, I know how to use tools and how to fix things around the house…  I don’t get all wrapped up in gender differences and, frankly, I find that I prefer the company of men to the company of women on a regular basis.

When I was younger this led to statements like "Oh, jeez, Fyre, sorry about [what I just said]. I forgot you were a girl."

Not "I forgot you were here", but "I forgot you were a girl."

The first couple of times, it’s kind of funny.  The next couple of times, it’s annoying.  When it happens regularly and turns out to happen in different social circles it becomes incredibly depressing.

So I turned it around and started using "being a girl" as a label for certain stereotypical things.  "I’m just being a girl about this.  I need to gain some perspective."  "Yeah, I went to this event and I actually dressed like a girl!  Makeup, crap in my hair, hose, heels, little black dress, the whole nine…"  I stopped thinking about why I was doing it or what it meant, really, because everyone, EVERYONE knew what I was talking about.

And then I was telling a story to a friend of mine who I can only refer to as a "gentleman"; who holds doors (opens car doors!) for women and even insists upon it sometimes, practices hat etiquette and generally treats women like they are "ladies" on a regular basis.  I said, "Yeah, man, I even looked like a girl that night." and he said, "Huh?  What are you talking about?  I mean, it’s not like you look masculine at other times."

AND HE WAS RIGHT.  This type of man who is generally regarded as the opposite of feminism, someone who values certain traditions of interaction between men and women had unwittingly called me out on behavior that I wasn’t even aware of.  I had decided, on some level, that because I wasn’t a part of some of the stereotypical cultural traditions of US women, that because my friends would "forget" that I was a girl, that I was less of a girl for it.  And I’m not.

I embrace pink in some situations.  I find it to be a pleasant color.  I like to look and feel pretty.  I like sparkly things.  I like having cleavage and I like showing it off.  The other day I bought a pair of shoes just because they were cute (which was a mistake because they’re not very comfortable :-/).  I read Glamour - I mock the makeup and fashion stuff, but I enjoy the articles and have subscribed in the past.  I have found that sometimes "shopping therapy" really does make things better.

I also don’t really like babies, so don’t ask me to coo over their pictures.  I believe that marriage is a stupid concept, so I won’t fawn all over an engagement ring.  I don’t ask for help I don’t need.  I don’t think that every problem is best solved by talking it out.  I don’t expect "him" to pay for dinner.  I don’t want or need preferential treatment, but in exchange, I don’t want to be punished for having tits, either.

I have a problem with labels, but I don’t have a problem with words.  I have no issues with the word "bitch" or with some women embracing it, but I don’t like it being directed at me because I"m not one.  I like the word "girl" because I do have many child-like qualities to my personality.  I also like the word "chick" because, to me, it has a certain synonimity with "hip".  I can understand the women who prefer to not be called "girls" or anything other than "women", but I don’t fall into that category.  You have to pick your battles, I guess, and that’s just not one of mine.

I want girls to be able to play with trucks and not be questioned.  I want boys to be able to wear whatever they want without being thought of as "gay".  I want for people to be treated in ways that are based on who they are, not the level of conformity to social "norms" that they exhibit.  I want for women to not be assumptively assigned to take notes or get coffee or do the filing because of their gender.  I want men to not be encouraged to be stoic and emotionally distant simply because there’s something dangling between their legs.  I want people to be treated equally and I want them to not have to fight for respect that is given to those who already fit the prescribed mold.  I want stay-at-home moms given the same respect for working moms given the same respect as women who are childless by choice, because it was supposed to be about having all the choices available to us and not about invalidating traditional choices.

And for all that, I still consider myself a feminist.  Not a militant one, not an extremist one, just a woman looking for equality in the new millenium.

(Warning, this starts without context on purpose.)

Lately, I’ve been hearing quite a few people say "You only regret things you actually did and not the things you didn’t do,"  but I just don’t buy it.

How many times have we all been faced with a decision "Do this now or walk away", walked away and spent time later on wondering what would have happened "if only…"?  Personally, I think that the biggest regrets of my life are for things I didn’t do, rather than things I did because, at least having done whatever, I know how it ended.

Years ago a friend of mine was approached by a man she knew fairly well.  "I need a wife," he said, "or they’re going to deport me."  She didn’t know what to do.  She went back and forth on the issue and she asked me what I thought.  I told her, "Well, if you do it, you may not be happy, it may turn out to be a bad situation, but if you don’t do it, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering if you did the right thing."  And it was true.  Even though her "marriage" was a really difficult time in her life, even though it made her crazy and gave her all kinds of new issues to work through, at least she knows what happened.  Maybe it was a mistake, but it’s not so much a regret.

I mean, we’ve all made mistakes in our lives, but I’d hope that we also learned from most of them.  Do I regret having touched a hot stove when I was little?  Not really, because I learned why we don’t do that.  Maybe I wish I hadn’t burned myself, but if I hadn’t, then I’d probably run the risk of a greater injury somewhere down the line.

Talking about sex, I keep seeing people say that they’ve never met someone who regretted having waited until marriage.  I have.  I actually know a lot of people who regretted never having experienced someone other than their partner.  In fact, the only people I’ve heard of who regretted having sex didn’t regret having lost their virginity, they regretted the specifics - this guy, not using a condom, getting pregnant.  I mean think about the regrets you have for not having approached someone or given them your number compared to the number of regrets you have for acting on an attraction.  Honestly, which side has more?

For me, I think, 9 times out of 10 if I’m going to regret something, it’s because of inaction, not because of an action that turned out to be a mistake.  At least with mistakes, I know what the outcome was…

I don’t know, I’m just kind of rambling here.