Shout out to the wife of Rock-Clapping Neanderthal, who is, even as I am embarking on my Girl Power vacation, tipping back white wine with her girls in TX.
Thought I'd share this quote:
"Modern women, especially, need to tell the true myths embedded in our contemporary lives so our daughters and theirs will start out with desire lines more rewarding than Cinderalla hoping for a prince to save her."
-Tristine Rainer, Your Life as Story
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Men
Who needs 'em?
That's a joke. It's Father's Day. I wanted to write something about the Old Man who is, as I type, play-fighting with The Kid. They are smashing our couch pillows into each other and making growling noises. Like bears or wolverines or really pissed-off marmots.
http://www.literarymama.com/interact/blog/archives/002518.html
Look at the link from Literary Mama. The post is about a panel discussion about the questions "When are men going to care about work/family balance? And what is the role of men in the feminist movement anyway?" Why ask this around Father's Day? These questions must plague many, many women, and I am sympathetic to their desire for their men to fully join them in child-rearing, home-life, etc. Many, many men simply don't pull their weight at home.
The Old Man was raised by a strong woman. He did chores growing up. He learned to respect women. Plus, I'm a loudmouth and tell him what I need.
"Darlingest, please from now on and forevermore do all of the laundry because I can't do it all?" And he does it.
"Light of my life, there is .5 inches of dust on the kitchen countertops. Be a dear and wipe the counters after you do the dishes from now on?"
And there he goes, wiping the counters.
And I'm benefiting from that. I wonder if the women of Literary Mama asking those questions are from the previous generation, or are there men out there still, men in their twenties and thirties, who are husbands and fathers, who don't care about work/family balance? Aren't couples sharing the work these days? And if not, why the hell not?
Anyway, thanks Old Man for doing the dishes and the laundry and wiping the counters and vacuuming on Mondays and fixing the smoke alarms and changing light bulbs and mowing the lawn and dropping The Kid off at daycare and working full time.
I love all of this. I am most grateful, however, for your calm voice of reason, your unconditional acceptance of a crazy redhead's rants and temper tantrums, for your eye-rolls and hugs when I take myself too seriously.
You should go to the Literary Mama panel so that these women can meet a man who cares. I love you.
That's a joke. It's Father's Day. I wanted to write something about the Old Man who is, as I type, play-fighting with The Kid. They are smashing our couch pillows into each other and making growling noises. Like bears or wolverines or really pissed-off marmots.
http://www.literarymama.com/interact/blog/archives/002518.html
Look at the link from Literary Mama. The post is about a panel discussion about the questions "When are men going to care about work/family balance? And what is the role of men in the feminist movement anyway?" Why ask this around Father's Day? These questions must plague many, many women, and I am sympathetic to their desire for their men to fully join them in child-rearing, home-life, etc. Many, many men simply don't pull their weight at home.
The Old Man was raised by a strong woman. He did chores growing up. He learned to respect women. Plus, I'm a loudmouth and tell him what I need.
"Darlingest, please from now on and forevermore do all of the laundry because I can't do it all?" And he does it.
"Light of my life, there is .5 inches of dust on the kitchen countertops. Be a dear and wipe the counters after you do the dishes from now on?"
And there he goes, wiping the counters.
And I'm benefiting from that. I wonder if the women of Literary Mama asking those questions are from the previous generation, or are there men out there still, men in their twenties and thirties, who are husbands and fathers, who don't care about work/family balance? Aren't couples sharing the work these days? And if not, why the hell not?
Anyway, thanks Old Man for doing the dishes and the laundry and wiping the counters and vacuuming on Mondays and fixing the smoke alarms and changing light bulbs and mowing the lawn and dropping The Kid off at daycare and working full time.
I love all of this. I am most grateful, however, for your calm voice of reason, your unconditional acceptance of a crazy redhead's rants and temper tantrums, for your eye-rolls and hugs when I take myself too seriously.
You should go to the Literary Mama panel so that these women can meet a man who cares. I love you.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Girl Power
Next week I'll be heading to Washington D.C., from lil' ole' Frederick, Colorado, to visit my best girlfriends from college.
When women get together, with no men around, they laugh. They belly laugh. They relax into themselves. They talk for hours to catch up on the important stuff - not sports, or jobs, but men and sex and feelings.
These are the people who accept me flawed, who actually laugh at my jokes, who make me think and bring me back to the reality I often forget (that I need to take care of myself), who challenge my assumptions about the sacrifices I'm making and help me think about what I need. Who are witty and crass and free.
We have a tradition. When S was married, I made a CD, called "Girl Power." Songs from Cyndi Lauper, The Dixie Chicks, Pat Benatar, etc. Then when I got married, C made "Girl Power II." Joni Mitchell, etc. Then when S & C visited last May, C made "Girl Power III." Melissa Etheridge, Pink, Carrie Underwood, etc. So for the DC trip, "Girl Power IV: Love Full Circle." Pink, Shania Twain, Sugarland, Blu Cantrell, etc. Music to last us through the times when we can't laugh together.
Here's a tribute to S & C and all the powerful women in my life, who I notice never crumble under all the crazy shit life throws at them:
Girl power is
going to work when you have breast cancer and showing your bald head and telling coworkers it's not that bad.
caring for your mom and your daughter and your rock-smashing neanderthal husband and trying to hold down a job all at once.
putting on a brave face for your grandson when you know the story won't end well.
building your own blue garden gate out of paint and cedar and willows.
being there for your brother when his child is in the hospital.
staying the strong one and dealing with being a new mom when your parents are splitting up.
pumping breastmilk at work and putting one foot in front of the other at your job when your heart tells you to be at home with your babies.
forgiving your daughter when she treats you horribly, because she is your child and you will always need her and you believe she can be better.
training for a triathlon and being a mother of two.
and for S - eternal generosity and utmost silliness.
and for C - undying loyalty and refusing to type smiley faces on any electronic correspondence.
and for all of us - faith in ourselves.
When women get together, with no men around, they laugh. They belly laugh. They relax into themselves. They talk for hours to catch up on the important stuff - not sports, or jobs, but men and sex and feelings.
These are the people who accept me flawed, who actually laugh at my jokes, who make me think and bring me back to the reality I often forget (that I need to take care of myself), who challenge my assumptions about the sacrifices I'm making and help me think about what I need. Who are witty and crass and free.
We have a tradition. When S was married, I made a CD, called "Girl Power." Songs from Cyndi Lauper, The Dixie Chicks, Pat Benatar, etc. Then when I got married, C made "Girl Power II." Joni Mitchell, etc. Then when S & C visited last May, C made "Girl Power III." Melissa Etheridge, Pink, Carrie Underwood, etc. So for the DC trip, "Girl Power IV: Love Full Circle." Pink, Shania Twain, Sugarland, Blu Cantrell, etc. Music to last us through the times when we can't laugh together.
Here's a tribute to S & C and all the powerful women in my life, who I notice never crumble under all the crazy shit life throws at them:
Girl power is
going to work when you have breast cancer and showing your bald head and telling coworkers it's not that bad.
caring for your mom and your daughter and your rock-smashing neanderthal husband and trying to hold down a job all at once.
putting on a brave face for your grandson when you know the story won't end well.
building your own blue garden gate out of paint and cedar and willows.
being there for your brother when his child is in the hospital.
staying the strong one and dealing with being a new mom when your parents are splitting up.
pumping breastmilk at work and putting one foot in front of the other at your job when your heart tells you to be at home with your babies.
forgiving your daughter when she treats you horribly, because she is your child and you will always need her and you believe she can be better.
training for a triathlon and being a mother of two.
and for S - eternal generosity and utmost silliness.
and for C - undying loyalty and refusing to type smiley faces on any electronic correspondence.
and for all of us - faith in ourselves.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Sunday To Do List
Things needed
washed,
cleaned,
planted,
read,
scrubbed,
cooked,
written today.
The Kid needed
cleaned,
scrubbed,
hugged,
kissed,
calmed today.
The Old Man needed
nothing today except to watch
the weather in the tornado warning.
I needed
a flashlight,
The Kid in my arms,
my cell phone,
The Old Man,
and the dog in the crawl space with me
in case the tornado hit.
I had no energy today.
The Old Man gave me some.
I did it all, with his help,
and now I have nothing left.
washed,
cleaned,
planted,
read,
scrubbed,
cooked,
written today.
The Kid needed
cleaned,
scrubbed,
hugged,
kissed,
calmed today.
The Old Man needed
nothing today except to watch
the weather in the tornado warning.
I needed
a flashlight,
The Kid in my arms,
my cell phone,
The Old Man,
and the dog in the crawl space with me
in case the tornado hit.
I had no energy today.
The Old Man gave me some.
I did it all, with his help,
and now I have nothing left.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Today's Writing Prompt
From the blog http://oneminutewriter.blogspot.com/ I'm picking up today's writing prompt, Signal: Think of the biggest goal or dream you have. Is life giving you a red, yellow, or green light?
Right now, ahora, I want to improve my relationship with my mom. She and I are almost exactly alike and our relationship has degenerated into communication between strangers. I retreat into mean jokes or sarcasm or plain old silence, and I have stopped trying.
What I want for me: I want my voice to be heard.
What I want for her: I want her voice to be heard. I want her to feel safe to talk to me.
What I want for us: I want us to start having fun with each other again. I want us to be able to effectively handle conflict.
Life is giving me a green light. My mom was brave enough to come to me and tell me what her feelings were, and I thank her for that. I can be an intimidating, disrespectful, angry little shit. Strong moms don't give up on their daughters, and strong daughters can admit when they've been stuck in a pattern of making mistakes. Baba Yaga has officially kicked my ass, and I deserved the wake-up call.
My employer offers Crucial Conversations training, and it so happens that this week I'm spending three days in the training. Funny how all these mediation and conflict resolution skills are imprinted like stone in my mind at work, and when I see the people I care most about, I lose the ability to say how I feel while keeping the conversation neutral and safe.
A big push and a green light. I love you Mom.
Right now, ahora, I want to improve my relationship with my mom. She and I are almost exactly alike and our relationship has degenerated into communication between strangers. I retreat into mean jokes or sarcasm or plain old silence, and I have stopped trying.
What I want for me: I want my voice to be heard.
What I want for her: I want her voice to be heard. I want her to feel safe to talk to me.
What I want for us: I want us to start having fun with each other again. I want us to be able to effectively handle conflict.
Life is giving me a green light. My mom was brave enough to come to me and tell me what her feelings were, and I thank her for that. I can be an intimidating, disrespectful, angry little shit. Strong moms don't give up on their daughters, and strong daughters can admit when they've been stuck in a pattern of making mistakes. Baba Yaga has officially kicked my ass, and I deserved the wake-up call.
My employer offers Crucial Conversations training, and it so happens that this week I'm spending three days in the training. Funny how all these mediation and conflict resolution skills are imprinted like stone in my mind at work, and when I see the people I care most about, I lose the ability to say how I feel while keeping the conversation neutral and safe.
A big push and a green light. I love you Mom.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
A Crazy Redhead's Reading List
Books that shaped me: Still Life With Woodpecker, Tom Robbins
Women Who Run With the Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estes, PhD
The Bible, God?
Cunt: A Declaration of Independence, Inga Muscio
Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston
The Color Purple, Alice Walker
Watership Down, Richard Adams
A Wrinkle in Time, Madeleine L'Engle and her Time Quartet A Wind in the Door, Many Waters, and A Swiftly Tilting Planet
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Philosphy South, the philosophy of the Buffyverse. For real.
etcetera.
Books I'm reading now:
Outlander Series, Diana Gabaldon
High Fidelity, and anything by Nick Hornby, who makes inner psychological drama funny and interesting
I Love Myself when i am laughing and then again when i am looking mean and impressive about Zora Neale Hurston's crazy "rebellious" life
Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert
Women Who Run With the Wolves, Estes, again
Writer's Digest magazine
Literary Mama magazine
Collected Fictions, Jorge Luis Borges, whose stories fit no mold
Twilight series - it makes me horny - I have a long-time vampire fascination
Books I'd recommend from my online writing classes:
Writing Fiction: A Guide to Narrative Craft by Janet Burroway
Writing Creative Nonfiction, ed. by Forche and Gerard
The 3 a.m. Epiphany: Uncommon Writing Exercises by Kiteley
Reading Like a Writer Francine Prose (really and truly, her last name is Prose)
The Portable MFA in Creative Writing New York Writer's Workshop
I never metaphor i didn't like Dr. Mardy Grothe
New class texts on deck:
Your Life as Story Rainer
The Best American Essays of the Century ed Joyce Carol Oates
On Writing Well, William Zinsser
Writing to Keep Sane
On my 21 years of writing: When I was 10, my parents gave me a diary. I wrote about my pets, my family, my school. As a teenager I learned that writing was the surest and safest way to heal any hurt. Embarrassing body changes, paranoia about what my peers thought of me, fights with my sister, anger at the world, fascination and obsession over boys - all of it poured into my diaries and helped me think through the bewilderment of being a kid and turning into an adult at the same time. In college I catalogued new hurts and new friends. I was an Ecology and Evolutionary Biology major but the classes that captured my mind were David Carrasco's "Religious Dimensions of the Human Experience" and "Mesoamerican Religion," and his words in class inspired pages and pages of prose.
I'm the kind of girl who loves easily and with everything I have. Falling in love, hard, four times, and losing all of them, was an affirmation of my belief that nothing good ever lasts forever. I wrote to comfort myself, to call upon my heart as my only friend at times, to say goodbye to them, to wonder what was wrong with me. I wrote myself into the idea that no matter how sweet the moment or how much two people love each other, it will end. Even now with my husband and son I have this feeling, almost a certainty, that it won't last forever.
Before The Old Man came along, and before The Kid, most of my writing was negative, a necessity to work through grief and pain and loss and loneliness. While much of what I write is still focused on this exercise, I've changed.
On writing as a mother: So, I'm pregnant back in 2005. Completely exhausted. Frazzled over my job. Worried sick over the prospect of putting a tiny baby in daycare one day. Worried about money. My body's changing. And all I want to do is write. Not write about the things I would have in the past, but write fiction, make up stories, write little celebrations of my life. Never before in my diaries had I celebrated anything, or written about my happiness. Now I write about my blessings. I document my blessings.
The Kid arrives in 2006. I don't REM sleep for what seems like eons. My body in a short time gained 50 pounds and lost it again. My joints are like - What the fuck? - I can't run anymore. I go back to work at 3 months and learn to pump breastmilk and get mastitis anyway and feel guilty for every second I'm gone from the baby. I write stories. I write emails. I live on emails from my friend from http://mamasapplecores.blogspot.com/2009/05/nap-versus-garden.html
because she's been through it before. I save the emails and refer to them like a book, and save my own as a future roadmap if I ever have another Kid. I write stories for my son, I make up stories for him, thinking he'll love reading them someday.
because she's been through it before. I save the emails and refer to them like a book, and save my own as a future roadmap if I ever have another Kid. I write stories for my son, I make up stories for him, thinking he'll love reading them someday.
I begin to think that I want others to read what I write, no matter how choppy or long-winded. I need the connection. I need to connect with others who write. I find a writing group and I feel like I've been an alien my whole life and suddenly I find my own kind - those who enjoy the way a passage feels on the tongue and who get way too excited about beautiful words and a beautiful story. Those who realize a story that depicts degenerate human emotion and actions is just another way to cope with human nature and not necessarily an endorsement of living your life that way. I explore sex and love and adultery and parenthood and loneliness in words.
I had to get up at 5:00 am this morning to have time to myself because the rest of my day I will not pause nor have time to think. This itch to write is taking me in new directions. I'm taking online writing classes which are perfect - early mornings and late nights spent churning my creativity in taps on the keyboard.
I write to say goodbye - to vanquish poisonous thoughts that keep me in the past.
I write to say thank you for new blessings, for Annie finding her home.
I write to reflect, not to analyze.
I write to analyze.
I write to escape into my head to escape my job and my family and the energy they demand from me.
I write to fantasize, to entertain myself.
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