Sunday, April 12, 2009

Bad Day Sorta Not Really Frustrated Though

You cannot possibly fathom the hundreds of thousands of tiny minute details that just emphasize to me that I am female and thus different from roughly 84% of my classmates.

I have no particular gift for intelligent writing. I am not the classical writer adding to scholarly journals with my in depth review of the theory of some old and more than likely white male and the information gathered by some old and more than likely white male from a group of decrepit, old, wrinkly old men and women bound by a patriarchal society. A society I am living and surviving in but find myself occasionally frustrated and bound in such a way as to make me want to scream and be considered an oddity and outsider because it would free me from the constraints that society binds us with. If you read Wicked you can see this very clearly. I couldn't get into the next two books or even the end of the first, but the middle portion when Elphalba is in the city and going to college... I can totally and completely relate to that.

I can summarize succinctly but vaguely to you reader my frustration with this one interaction with someone I deeply admire,

"Hey SL did you get my email about lunch Tuesday?"
"Oh yeah, I did, but I sort of didn't read it yet."

Thanks. Thanks a hell of a whole lot. You read that ridiculous email from Baumer. You replied to it. Hell everyone replies to the men on the team, but noone even replies all to the women. Do you just automatically delete or ignore the email if it comes from someone without a Y chromosome!? Seriously what the hell is going through your thick skulls, all of you men, when you know a girl is on a distro?


[After a Shower and some time to cool off]

So... I am still frustrated. Not to the point of wanting to scream, but at my lack of communication. I can only connect to one person at one time with one rant. The only people who listen to me rant are inevitably the folks "in the choir". And when I did get on my soap box in the hall and vent loud enough to get a group of guys in discussion with me about it... all they did was immediately jump to the question of whether or not I am a feminist. The final decision must've been a tie. SL and the Phantom both voted that I was not a feminist. "Mat" abstained. Lou called me a feminist, possibly in jest, but possibly in all seriousness. When the Steve's arrived, I became fed up with the increasing ludicrity of the conversation and left before I could find out whether I had been branded or not to be burnt at the social stake.

They naturally asked me whether I was a feminist or not. I replied that I didn't know. The word has different meanings. Ask Webster... then turn around and ask urbandictionary. Semantics aren't the point. I'm momentarily angry with society here. I am as usual bound by something distinctly masculine. It isn't men I'm angry with... it's just the way it is.

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