Today I've decided to share my thoughts on this particular blog entry that deals with the issue of feminism. I was going to write something short and potentially funny, yet slightly profound, on my Facebook wall, but then I couldn't get myself to shut up, so I figured: Why not publish it on my blog?
So what can I say about this before I pass out? Personally, I don't like the term "feminist". This is probably due to the fact that this and any related terms hold a negative connotation for me. Many times when I hear someone call themselves a "feminist", they either do so while engaging in the "oh-so-fun" male-bashing or they happen to be someone like Miley Cyrus. Now, despite the fact that I have been known to crush a few male egos (it really is a gift...j/k), I love men. I mean, I loooooove men! Was that too much?
In addition to that, I can't really identify with most feminists, so I would never think of calling myself one. I hold doors open for men and women alike; if I am financially able to, I am more than willing to pay for others (unless it happens ALL the time, and I don't get ANYTHING in return...); I tend to naturally get along with men more than with women (because let's face it, women can be bitches...then again, so can men...); etc. I just don't buy into the whole "men have to do/be this, women have to do/be that".
As for the engagement ring, here's a news flash: You don't need one to be engaged. They're 1) too expensive (I mean, seriously, do you know how much a 1-carat stone costs? Go ahead, google it, I'll wait...), and it is too impractical/potentially dangerous for a klutz like me (Come one, when will I wear it? When I'm out and about, hanging out with my friends? Pfffft... Besides, it would probably lead to my death anyways, just like new socks...and errant razor blades...).
Unfortunately, it is still true that many men are raised to be fearless, which oddly enough does result in a fear of fear and vulnerability. That being said, I have the same issue, but this probably has more to do with a combination of me wanting to make my father, the Army of One in persona, proud (tut mir leid Mama...hdl), and me not ever wanting to be hurt by anyone ever again (that is its own little story that doesn't need to be elaborated on at this time).
However, while I do believe in equality between the sexes (if someone is better qualified for a job, they a) deserve to be hired for that job, and b) deserve to receive an adequate pay, regardless of whether their reproductive organs are laid out according to feng shui or not...you might not want to quote me on that one), I will openly confess that I do worry from time to time that men find me too intimidating... I mean, do they? I honestly dunno...it would explain the lack of a boyfriend... Maybe one of you guys could tell me? Or maybe one of the guys could tell me? I actually am kinda curious about that...
Anyways...all in all, I guess I can be considered to be a feminist in some ways, but I wouldn't restrict myself to that label. It really boils down to: Are you a decent human being? Yes? Then we'll get along and I can respect you. If you want to act like an asshole, fine, just don't expect me to respect or interact with you. That applies to everyone equally...well, except for family, you're kinda stuck with those people...
So, what do you guys think of feminism? Should everyone be one? Would you consider yourselves to be feminists? Let me know.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Thursday, December 05, 2013
A bit of self-hatred
Here you lie before me, yet again. Looking at me with those wide eyes. Do you expect any mercy from me? Whenever I look at you, my hate towards you increases. As much as I want to kill you, I know that a simple and quick death will never do. I want to hurt you, I want to see you suffer, I want to hear you scream. Just give up, accept the inevitable, let me take over. Give me your soul so that I can tear it to shreds. I don't want any part of you to survive. Are you crying? That's so cute..and pointless. Everyone has a breaking point, even you, so just give in. Fighting me won't save you. So what should I use on you first: the baseball bat, the knives...how about some of sulfuric acid? What did I say? Fighting won't help. Oh, you still think that someone will come and save you from me? Assuming that there is someone interested in saving you, how will they stop me? We're inseparable, aren't we? But all joking aside, nobody will come to save you. Because nobody really likes you. No, nobody ever has. They all hate you. Everyone has been lying to you. They always have. I'll be doing them a favor by killing you. That's right, nobody will miss you. Oh ssshhh, it's alright... Now, where to start? Do I break your kneecaps? Dislocate your shoulders? Or should I just go ahead and cut off that ugly face of yours? Do you know how many people have been traumatized after looking at that...whatever it's supposed to be? I would be doing everyone a great favor by removing it. Don't worry, this will actually be an improvement to the way you looked before. Oh, and don't cry over missing out on love, sex, and happiness. Nobody wants you anyways. Let's face it, someone would have to be really fucked up to be interested in you. That's it, can't you feel the calm descending on you? Give in to the inevitable. Let me save you from yourself and this pathetic existence of yours.
Sunday, December 01, 2013
Death of Selflessness
Before I start with the actual entry, I would like to apologize, yet again, for not updating my blog more often. I promise to do my best, and hopefully, I will be able to provide you guys (whoever you may be) with more frequent and entertaining rants/stories/etc. on a more regular basis.
Alright, on to the main event: The following is a short story I wrote in November 2008 for one of my classes. I don't want to go into too much detail, but there were a couple of things that happened to me in that year which may have influenced the storyline just a wee bit. When I started out, all I knew was how I wanted the story to end, and so I basically worked my way backwards. It isn't the best story in the world, I discovered a few things that I wanted to change as I was retyping it for this blog, but I got a good grade for it, the instructor liked it, so (with a few tiny exceptions) I left it the way it was. Feel free to comment or not comment, either way I hope you all enjoy it!
“Wait! You forgot your lunch!” “Ah, you are too good to me,” Jacob replied as he gave Rebecca a kiss on the lips. “Yeah, yeah...just leave or you'll be late for work.” Laughing, Jacob drove off, and as his taillights disappeared in the distance, Rebecca let out a long sigh, placed her hands on her hips and returned to the house. The house always seemed so dark when Jacob was gone, even with all the curtains and windows open. “So depressing...,” was all Rebecca managed to mutter as she let herself plop onto the living room couch. After turning on the television and realizing that, as always, nothing interesting was on at eight in the morning, she turned the television back off and stared blankly at the wall.
Rebecca and Jacob had lived in their six-bedroom house for three years now. She personally felt that living in such a huge house was overkill, but since she knew that it would please her husband, she had decided to give in. Yes, Jacob and Rebecca were married, even though the road to the wedding had been littered with its own share of bumps and potholes. They had separated five times before finally settling down. Each break-up had its own reason: Jacob cheated on Rebecca, Rebecca cheated on Jacob, he thought Rebecca had cheated on him, Rebecca went to Europe to advance her career, and the cause of the final break-up was Rebecca's pregnancy. This last separation had been especially devastating and surprisingly unifying at the same time. Jacob had run out on her, and Rebecca had gotten into a horrible accident. It had been so damaging that she ended up losing the child. When Jacob had come crawling back with an increased amount of affection for her after the miscarriage, all she had wanted to do was shove a few fuck yous up his ass, but she eventually took him back anyway, mainly because she saw how miserable he was without her. Funny, Jacob never struck anyone as the miserable type. He was, after all, a CEO at a Fortune 500 company...
Still staring at the wall as if in a hypnotic state, Rebecca couldn't help but think that having a child would keep her preoccupied...and of course, how different her life would be if she hadn't miscarried. However, she couldn't possibly have a child now...well, SHE could. Her body had managed to recover from that experience. Unfortunately, Jacob was still very adamant about not having kids, which is odd considering that he was hardly ever home to begin with. Being the good wife that she was, Rebecca had given in...and secretly hated herself for it. That was just the way it seemed to be lately...or maybe it hadn't been that way just lately. She had always catered to everyone else's needs and wants, and during the times she had to herself, Rebecca just didn't know what to do. “No wonder I'm so bored whenever Jacob's at work. I have nobody to look after but myself,” Rebecca said to nobody in particular, “Am I really that pathetic?”
Twelve hours later and nobody to talk to but herself, Rebecca was fuming. Her husband should have been back three hours ago, and he didn't even have the courtesy to call her and let her know that he would be late. Sure, Rebecca could have spent hours on end chatting and hanging out with her friends, but most of them lived overseas. She could have spent time with her mother, but she lived faraway, and talking to her was also out of the question because she had to learn to live on her own and not constantly rely on her mother. Rebecca hated shopping or partying or any type of socializing, and so had no other choice than to stay at home...and think. Most days, she didn't mind being alone, but today was an entirely different story. She had built up a rage to end all of modern civilization if packaged in a nuclear weapon, and that upset her even more because she couldn't explain this extreme onslaught of hostility. And yet, here she was, stewing in it, with Jacob set up as the most convenient target. Somehow, after spending most of her life living for others, all of a sudden, she was sick of it. Something had to be done, and before this black hole of self-neglect swallowed her whole... There he was...that selfish prick of a husband. “Hey sweetheart! I missed you soooo much! There was so much work to do...,” Jacob exclaimed while swooping down and showering Rebecca with tender kisses. Usually, this gesture would have been enough to placate Rebecca; instead it just added fuel to the fire. To keep herself from blowing up at him, she tried to say as little as possible, and therefore could only reply with a dry “Aha...” Of course, she was thinking about slapping that stupid grin off his face, but she figured that physical violence was still uncalled for. “Just let him push me a little bit further,” was all she could think while grinding her teeth. Everything would have gone well, and Rebecca would have calmed down if Jacob hadn't said this: “Sooo, what's for dinner, lover?” “First off, save yourself the sweet talk, and how does a fist down your throat sound for dinner?!” “Umm, not good? What's wrong, hon...” “What did I say about the sweet talk? Zip it. If you want something to eat, you can make it your damned self. I'm sick and tired of catering to your lazy ass! Yeah, you might earn most of the money, but at least you get to leave this depressing hole for eight to ten hours every day. I've done whatever you have wanted me to: I took you back after you cheated on me; I groveled before you, begging you to take me back after I cheated on you; I accepted your apology and took you back again after you falsely accused me of cheating on you; I refused a prestigious position at one of the leading international publishing companies so I could be with you; and then, I took you back again after you left me when I was pregnant and then miscarried!!! Why? Because you were so pathetic, I thought you were going to slit your wrists! And still...that's not enough, is it?! I'm a good housewife! I stay in shape for you! I do things in the bedroom that I could never, NEVER, mention to a living soul! And most importantly...I desperately want children, but because you're still so “traumatized,” I can never have children! I mean what's the point of this damn six-bedroom house, if we aren't going to fill it with children...or other people anyways! And why do I settle for not having any children? Because I am TOO FUCKING GOOD TO YOU!!!!” Storming out of the house, she heard Jacob yell something, but she couldn't have cared less about him at that moment. Rebecca was feeling energized and free as she drove off in her car. She didn't know where she was going or what she was going to do once she got to this unknown destination, but she felt lighter than she had felt since...well, ever. It hit her about fifteen minutes later: hunger...and something else, something rather sneaky... She hadn't meant to blow up at him like that. What would happen once she got back home? Will Jacob have changed the locks? Put her things on the street? File for divorce? This guilt and anxiety started to eat away at her in much the same way as she wanted to eat away at burritos, hamburgers, and huge bowls of spaghetti drowned in tomato sauce and shredded cheese. Chewing on her lower lip until it bled, she fought with herself about whether she had been in the right or the wrong. “Yes, a conversation was necessary, but that wasn't a conversation...that was me tearing him a new asshole... It's my fault because I could have just stopped catering to him all the time, and haven't I always been that way towards everyone? He should be more sensitive towards my needs and wants though too...” This mental and emotional war of worlds went on until Rebecca could have passed for one of the wax figures at Madame Tussaud's. Old habits die hard, and before Rebecca could smother the last bit of life out of her self-destructive selflessness, it came back with a vengeance. She decided to not only get herself something to eat, but also decided to get Jacob his favorite fast food. While waiting for the food, she thought to herself, “We'll get through this somehow. We just need to have a calm, more thorough conversation about this. We can work it out.” A new spring in her step, smile on her face, and food in her hands, she was ready for a new start. For a new Rebecca, who could be selfless and take care of herself as well. She couldn't wait. However, she would have to wait forever for she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her stomach. She was confused. Confused as to why she was losing control over her body. Confused as to why her shirt was getting wetter and wetter and darker and darker. Confused as to why the ground was getting closer and closer to her face. Confused as to why the world around her was getting darker and darker. Somehow she now knew what was happening as she started crying. “No...I can't...not now...” was all she could say before everything went completely dark.
The next morning the police reported that a young woman named Rebecca Marie James had died from a gunshot wound to the abdominal region at the age of 28. On an even sadder note, her unborn child had also died. To this day, nobody knows who shot her or why. Many people who knew her intimately, not that there were many people who knew her to begin with, also asked themselves what her last thought could have been. If they had truly known her, it would have become clear that the last thought would not have been of what she would lose. Even though it seems silly, she could only think of getting her husband his food.
Alright, on to the main event: The following is a short story I wrote in November 2008 for one of my classes. I don't want to go into too much detail, but there were a couple of things that happened to me in that year which may have influenced the storyline just a wee bit. When I started out, all I knew was how I wanted the story to end, and so I basically worked my way backwards. It isn't the best story in the world, I discovered a few things that I wanted to change as I was retyping it for this blog, but I got a good grade for it, the instructor liked it, so (with a few tiny exceptions) I left it the way it was. Feel free to comment or not comment, either way I hope you all enjoy it!
Death of Selflessness
Twelve hours later and nobody to talk to but herself, Rebecca was fuming. Her husband should have been back three hours ago, and he didn't even have the courtesy to call her and let her know that he would be late. Sure, Rebecca could have spent hours on end chatting and hanging out with her friends, but most of them lived overseas. She could have spent time with her mother, but she lived faraway, and talking to her was also out of the question because she had to learn to live on her own and not constantly rely on her mother. Rebecca hated shopping or partying or any type of socializing, and so had no other choice than to stay at home...and think. Most days, she didn't mind being alone, but today was an entirely different story. She had built up a rage to end all of modern civilization if packaged in a nuclear weapon, and that upset her even more because she couldn't explain this extreme onslaught of hostility. And yet, here she was, stewing in it, with Jacob set up as the most convenient target. Somehow, after spending most of her life living for others, all of a sudden, she was sick of it. Something had to be done, and before this black hole of self-neglect swallowed her whole... There he was...that selfish prick of a husband. “Hey sweetheart! I missed you soooo much! There was so much work to do...,” Jacob exclaimed while swooping down and showering Rebecca with tender kisses. Usually, this gesture would have been enough to placate Rebecca; instead it just added fuel to the fire. To keep herself from blowing up at him, she tried to say as little as possible, and therefore could only reply with a dry “Aha...” Of course, she was thinking about slapping that stupid grin off his face, but she figured that physical violence was still uncalled for. “Just let him push me a little bit further,” was all she could think while grinding her teeth. Everything would have gone well, and Rebecca would have calmed down if Jacob hadn't said this: “Sooo, what's for dinner, lover?” “First off, save yourself the sweet talk, and how does a fist down your throat sound for dinner?!” “Umm, not good? What's wrong, hon...” “What did I say about the sweet talk? Zip it. If you want something to eat, you can make it your damned self. I'm sick and tired of catering to your lazy ass! Yeah, you might earn most of the money, but at least you get to leave this depressing hole for eight to ten hours every day. I've done whatever you have wanted me to: I took you back after you cheated on me; I groveled before you, begging you to take me back after I cheated on you; I accepted your apology and took you back again after you falsely accused me of cheating on you; I refused a prestigious position at one of the leading international publishing companies so I could be with you; and then, I took you back again after you left me when I was pregnant and then miscarried!!! Why? Because you were so pathetic, I thought you were going to slit your wrists! And still...that's not enough, is it?! I'm a good housewife! I stay in shape for you! I do things in the bedroom that I could never, NEVER, mention to a living soul! And most importantly...I desperately want children, but because you're still so “traumatized,” I can never have children! I mean what's the point of this damn six-bedroom house, if we aren't going to fill it with children...or other people anyways! And why do I settle for not having any children? Because I am TOO FUCKING GOOD TO YOU!!!!” Storming out of the house, she heard Jacob yell something, but she couldn't have cared less about him at that moment. Rebecca was feeling energized and free as she drove off in her car. She didn't know where she was going or what she was going to do once she got to this unknown destination, but she felt lighter than she had felt since...well, ever. It hit her about fifteen minutes later: hunger...and something else, something rather sneaky... She hadn't meant to blow up at him like that. What would happen once she got back home? Will Jacob have changed the locks? Put her things on the street? File for divorce? This guilt and anxiety started to eat away at her in much the same way as she wanted to eat away at burritos, hamburgers, and huge bowls of spaghetti drowned in tomato sauce and shredded cheese. Chewing on her lower lip until it bled, she fought with herself about whether she had been in the right or the wrong. “Yes, a conversation was necessary, but that wasn't a conversation...that was me tearing him a new asshole... It's my fault because I could have just stopped catering to him all the time, and haven't I always been that way towards everyone? He should be more sensitive towards my needs and wants though too...” This mental and emotional war of worlds went on until Rebecca could have passed for one of the wax figures at Madame Tussaud's. Old habits die hard, and before Rebecca could smother the last bit of life out of her self-destructive selflessness, it came back with a vengeance. She decided to not only get herself something to eat, but also decided to get Jacob his favorite fast food. While waiting for the food, she thought to herself, “We'll get through this somehow. We just need to have a calm, more thorough conversation about this. We can work it out.” A new spring in her step, smile on her face, and food in her hands, she was ready for a new start. For a new Rebecca, who could be selfless and take care of herself as well. She couldn't wait. However, she would have to wait forever for she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her stomach. She was confused. Confused as to why she was losing control over her body. Confused as to why her shirt was getting wetter and wetter and darker and darker. Confused as to why the ground was getting closer and closer to her face. Confused as to why the world around her was getting darker and darker. Somehow she now knew what was happening as she started crying. “No...I can't...not now...” was all she could say before everything went completely dark.
The next morning the police reported that a young woman named Rebecca Marie James had died from a gunshot wound to the abdominal region at the age of 28. On an even sadder note, her unborn child had also died. To this day, nobody knows who shot her or why. Many people who knew her intimately, not that there were many people who knew her to begin with, also asked themselves what her last thought could have been. If they had truly known her, it would have become clear that the last thought would not have been of what she would lose. Even though it seems silly, she could only think of getting her husband his food.
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