Posts Tagged ‘rambling’

Gimme equal pay, but lemme where some stilettos, k?

February 13, 2017

ok so… I got some thoughts going on in my head. I’m not sure it’s linear enough for a blog post. I’m all over the place. There’s a central theme, but, well… You’ll see if you can handle the ramble.

Feminism vs anti-feminism?

I just tried to google the opposite of feminism and really there isn’t a word.

Misogyny isn’t necessarily the opposite. Obviously you can’t be misogynistic and a feminist… but being anti feminism doesn’t necessarily mean something as malicious as misogyny, right?

I feel like I fit somewhere in between (not between misogyny and feminism, but feminism vs anti-feminism). I believe in a balance. I believe in the Ying-Yang of life and the universe. But I also think women can do it all… within the biological realm of reality anyway.

So…

When I’m at work I want to be treated equally. Same pay and compensation. Same expectations and repercussions. I NEED my male co-workers to see me on an equal level. I need them to not crack comments about my mood and hormones. I need them to not ask me to coordinate the baby shower next month. I need them to feel like they can come to me for work advice because I’m just as good as the next guy. All these things are the not the case and it drives me insane. Working in a male dominated field isn’t the most zen experience of my life. These guys don’t even hear anything wrong with the things they say! Open your ears! I could go on and on about what these guys think are okay. I MEAN ON AND ON AND ON FEMALE-HORMONE-RANT STYLE…. ­čśÉ hm.

Then there’s that… I am female. And I do have to deal with hormones on a monthly basis. And guess what? Those males I work with, they have to deal with me during those times too. And it’s a true statement to say that hormones effect my mood. And sometimes very drastically so. It’s not something I can help too much. This is a fact of life. No amount of feminism is going to undo do the fact that the chemistry in my body is reeking havoc on almost all function of my body. IT. JUST. IS. Women ARE different. So when I storm out because some fucking fuck face says something misogynistic about lipstick and credit cards in my purse because I JUST CAN’T handle stupid shitty comments like that they are most certainly not wrong about it being my time of the month. GRRR. What do we do with those moments, feminists??? How could I possibly combat that??? lol I mean, when I flip out over a misogynistic comment because my hormones won’t allow me to smile and nod and maybe even retort with something flippantly witty…? It’s comical, right? Well, it’s comical in 4 to 7 days, anyway….

But… I want to be a girl. I want to be treated like something special. I want to feel the protection a man can provide. I want to be able to hand a jar of pickles over to a man to muscle that sunuvabish open. Just like I want to be someone a guy can lean on for support. I want to be that safe place a man can come and crumble upon because he knows the massive amount of respect I have for him and the amount of warm, soft, feminine comfort I have waiting for him to crash into. I want to fill in his gaps and I want my gaps to be filled (sexually and otherwise – ba dum chhhh). I want to be the ying to his yang. I want to flow together so well we are better than two puzzle pieces… Like oil and water coming together with perfect, visible seems. Touching each other whole-y, but both very separate and different. You can see one. You can see the other. They are very distinct.

When it comes to significant others and their roles in the household I think that should just be something agreed upon between the two. When I was married, I was happy to do dishes if I didn’t have to mow the lawn. I’m okay with that trade off of responsibilities. My ex husband HATED laundry but didn’t mind vacuuming the stairs, which i hated! He liked to fix things and he liked to make things look better. I’m bad at it, so I was happy to have him use tools that I wasn’t comfortable using and making things look good because he had the better decorative eye. When he took on special tasks like cleaning the garage I didn’t mind taking on a larger load in the house. I’d much rather be in the comfort of the AC.

So here I am. I strongly feel my feelings and opinions and beliefs and preferences should be considered AND VALUED. But I’m not going to be weird when I’m cooking dinner for 2. And I want to be your princess too.

Okay… another HUGE ASPECT THAT PROMPTED THIS WHOLE TRAIN OF THOUGHT TODAY:

Where’s the line at work? Where’s the line in my brain? I LOVE to wear a skirt and high heels. It makes me good about myself. I love feeling sexy. I don’t know of a single thing I can do that delivers the same feeling. I can’t quite put my finger on it. I don’t do it because I want some man to undress me with his eyes, or admire me walking down the hallway, or for someone else’s pleasure. I don’t think. Is that denial? I hope not. I love how I feel when I think I look sexy. If I leave the house and I don’t feel cute, I don’t have a good day. Period. End of discussion. My day is shitty. My self confidence: tanked. My body image: poor.

So how does feminism come into play there? Am I anti-feminist because I enjoy feeling sexy and powerful purely by the clothes I wear and the body under them?? What’s that about? Gimme equal pay, but lemme where some stilettos, k? I don’t know.

Last tangent, swear: Interesting offshoot about women in corporate environments. The ones that dress sexy or dress flattering for their figure always look younger at older ages. The women in heels and a skirt… they look 20 years younger than those women that wear the frumpy slacks. Whats that about? Why are those types of women more likely to take care of themselves in other ways? Is it just our vanity? But is it vanity or healthy pride? Are the other women just choosing other values and other things that make them feel good? I’m sure that’s what it is. They have a different priority list and their clothes choice just isn’t there. But then neither is their health…. I don’t know. Major ramble at this point.

I think I’ll wrap that up here.

Hope everyone has a great week! Happy Monday!

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random post-coffeine inspiration

February 3, 2017

When things are bad we can’t wait for them to end. I mean, duh. Who wants to be in a bad situation. It’s intuitive. Barely worth mentioning. Like, I’ve just wasted 10 seconds of your life.

This morning I was drinking an extra yummy cup of coffee. I don’t drink coffee much any more and so I drank it with extra appreciation. But something happened half way through the cup. I started getting sad that it was going to end so soon. It was A FANTASTIC CUP OF COFFEE. I loved EVERY SINGLE SIP. But here I was unable to fully enjoy this AMAZING cup of coffee because it was sooooo good I never wanted it to end.

Is it worth having something so good if halfway through it I swing as low as I was high from the coffee? It’s kind of a roller coaster, right, when we get something that’s too good? Like kids on Christmas morning crying after they open their last gift. What happened to the joy of opening the other gifts? Is it worth all the excitement and joy from opening SO MANY AMAZING GIFTS?

We humans are so weird. We fight contentment. In fact, being content is almost a bad word. Like, if we aren’t feeling some discord then we must not be working hard enough or life isn’t good enough.┬á“No pain no gain.” Maybe those cliches are just so we don’t throw huge pity parties for ourselves… Or maybe those cliches simply exist so we can tell that to someone else throwing a pity party. I don’t know. Did I just change the subject? Oh yeah, here’s where I was going:

So we fight bad times and times of contentment, but then when we get something too good we mourn it prematurely… All things for a season right? If the bad times are a phase, so are the good times, right? But maybe that’t just another cliche… so we have words of comfort.

Yeah, humans are weird.

Anyway… that’s enough of that. Have a happy friday, all!

2016: take two

January 15, 2016

I’ve been holding back in my writings lately. Recently┬ámy anonymity was broken. The things I have written about haven’t been censored, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t cherry picking the easier topics from my life line up. I hate that being known effects this blog at all. And I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately.

In my writings, I am vulnerable. This blog is me stripped naked for the world and the only way I’m strong enough for that, the only way I’m not terrified about that, is because no one knows who I am. No one knew. I think we are all better at opening up to strangers than to our family members and friends. That’s the point of anonymous blogs. We get to do this living out loud thing and no one can really judge us. Or at least not judge us in a way that can petrify us.

When I write I water down the emotions with humor, and I like doing that. It’s my voice. It’s how I deal with things. But no matter how goofy it all may seem, I pour everything into these writings. Each one makes up my inner most self. If you took all my posts and fit them together that is who I am. Anyone reading these blogs would know me better than all the people I see on a daily basis. It’s a pretty clear picture I think.

Vulnerability isn’t a bad thing. It’s like being “too nice”, it was NEVER┬ásuppose to be a bad thing. But that is what society makes it. Society kind of forces it to be faults. If you are too nice people will use you and you’ll become a push over. If you are too vulnerable then all those insecurities and faults will be exploited. But those negative characteristics are what makes us better humans. Better friends. Better listeners. Better helpers. It is in those negative moments that we are made stronger because knowing who we are, knowing our weak links, prepares us for life.

I’m not sure why, but my last few weeks have been hard. I can’t seem to get into the swing of 2016. I’ve been backsliding in all the strides I made in 2015.

I’m no stranger to backsliding, and after reading some of my fellow bloggers’ blogs lately, I’m not alone. We’ve all had a hard go of it lately. Whether it be overcoming food, fears, bad habits, relationships, over exercise, self doubt, or sadness. Everyone has the same words right now. We failed. But we won’t quit.

Hope is one of those weird, counter intuitive human things. Even without proof we hope. Hope and faith, we cling to them, but the very definition makes it irrational to do so. To hope or have faith means its something you put stock into despite all other previous outcomes. We still expect that one day our perfect outcome will happen. Our time will come. We’ll finally get it right. Thank goodness for hope and faith, right? Because the only proof is we haven’t over come our demons yet.

I say we all get up, dust ourselves off, and start this year over. Who’s with me?

trending

April 4, 2015

Last night I was on my way to a baseball game.

Rewind for a sec: I’ve spent the last few weeks in some sort of funk. And really I get a little mad at times where I’m in a funk and it isn’t hormone related… I mean seriously? I am going to have at least 2 days a month that I am check-myself-into-a-mental-hospital depressed just because I was born a woman. Don’t get me started on how unfair this is. ANYWAY! I’ve been truly sad. The stressors of life were getting to me, and I couldn’t do my normal shake-if-off impression of Taylor Swift that I am normally a professional at. And not in a bottle-it-up sort of way but in a real way. A way that I can move on from a moment or situation with ease. No skin off my back. All is forgiven. It’s over and I won’t think about it again. I couldn’t get to the bottom of my sadness even tho I could definitely pinpoint a few building blocks.

Side note for a sec: I’m in the process of formulating an opinion one way or another that sad and happy are just a chemical reaction in our heads. I know that scientifically this is true… but is it the chicken or the egg? Are we sad because that is our reaction or are we sad because of some fluke going on in our body and our body is just completely fucking with us. I am getting way off subject here. I forget how much is in my head till I get my first cup of coffee going and open up my “new post” box.

Okay, so I’m headed to a baseball game. My little brother is in the passenger seat next to me and I realize, and it hits me like a brick, that I am truly happy in this moment. Almost Euphoric. My first instinct is to share that fact.

Let me ramble for a sec: For some reason my little brother – who really isn’t little at all and just turned 23, no… 22… 23? – turned off the radio… which in itself is quite out of character. This boy is a mix of Drake and Michael Buble and has some serious talent. Don’t tell him I said that because he already knows and my other siblings and I can’t afford for his ego to get any bigger. He holds the opinion (and I 100% agree) that car rides are meant for mini concerts of your favorite music. We talk for almost the entire trip which was about 2.5 hours with Memphis traffic when we finally pull into the parking deck. Both my brother and I are not very chatty individuals… it’s why I blog, not despite it. And he comments on this fact that the music has been off and we’ve been talking and he enjoyed it… in fact enjoyed it so much that he didn’t realize it had been so long.

Pure happiness. chicken or the egg. Was this chemical induced or a chemical reaction? Oh well… the world may never know. Well, actually science has probably figured it out long ago and I just don’t understand it.

Okay, back to the point here. I wanted to share the fact that I was happy. In this moment. Sitting in my car. I was blissful. And everyone needs to know it. Why was this a reaction? I mean, I understand the explosion and popularity of facebook shows that this is a normal human reaction. But is it a new trend in life? Like consuming too much sugar as a society because that is the trend of things? Wow, way off topic now… sugar discussion later – I know you are on pins and needles about that one. But why do we feel the need to have these feelings and experiences known? Why is it so overwhelming that I could put my life and the life of my baby brother in danger to send a text simply stating “It’s a good moment” or “I am so happy right now.” Why can’t we simply validate ourselves. Why can’t it be enough that right now, in this moment, perfection is reached in the not-so-balancing hormones in my brain?

I find it a flaw with us as humans in this day and age. I feel like it’s a mistake. I feel like it’s a bad habit. Yes, a bad habit. We need rehab. We need to figure out why we can’t just go through life loving the moments and enjoying things and not needing to do all this posting and tagging and hashtagging. Don’t get me wrong. I’m a big big fan of the #hashtag but I just wonder if there is something underlying in our society, in the trend of the day, that will come out in a few years to show some serious harm in our mental statutes. What are these long term effects of social media… and texting… and always having the world at our fingertips… always having the world’s validation at our fingertips. And I want that more than the next person. Nay, NEEEEED that. A scary thought to me. I don’t have answers… and maybe it is completely harmless. But I think I would like to take a step back and see if I can find myself enough for myself.

Does any of this makes sense?

coupla (no)things

August 21, 2014

Why do they make coffee flavored creamer? Do people seek this out? Maybe some people are worried their coffee doesn’t taste enough like coffee?

I got honked at in the middle of a round about for “cutting someone off”. I thought the point of a round about (or traffic circle) was so we could all essentially cut each other off in a mutual sort of way. Am I wrong? I didn’t do anything that would cause them to change speeds… I didn’t think I was even that close to them… at the same time, I’m not the best driver. Maybe the honk was deserved.

┬áI can’t quite place the feeling I have about seeing my nails done. I have jams on from jamberry nail wraps… They are so damn cute. Green chevrons. I look down at them and I just feel… something… i can’t quite define what i feel. I do know that it’s positive. Maybe it’s a weird sense of pride because those are my fingers lookin’ so cute and I’m not really one of those girls that do (or know how to do) a lot of accessorizing. Aaaand I did it myself ­čÖé Pride… maybe that’s what it is…

I get to a point every once in a while where it feels soooooo good to stretch… as in the deep yawn, hands in the air, back arched… At this point I know its when I need my back popped. It gets more and more frequent the more I need it. I lost my built in back popper in the divorce… Not quite sure how to replace that yet… The best thing I can come up with is a foam roller on the floor of the gym. Lol. But it only tends to get my upper back popped about 75% of the way… good enough for now.

Random today… I know. But what do you expect with a site title with the word “ramblings” in it?