Right now, I am low.
I am dark and fragile and anxious... and low.
How did this happen? I had a remarkable day going on an adventure with my dad. Something it has been far too long since I did. I came home from our motorcycle road trip excited and happy. But, somewhere around nine o'clock, it hit like I broke inside.
I burst out into tears over the silliest thing, and even why I was sobbing I was asking myself why am I doing this? How did I get to this point? Where did my happy from earlier scatter?
Then I opened my work email for the first time in a week-- I am on break, I am entitled to check out. An angry parent letter just set me off, and I haven't been able to keep it together since.
Something broke, and I don't know why or how.
This is the first time since I got my dream job that I have even felt remotely depressed. That is the ultimate happy I have ever experienced. At the moment I got my first teaching job, at a school with all the perks I could ever hope for and a class schedule that was my ideal, I was positively jubilant. Things shouldn't be like this anymore, at least not without provocation.
In the back of my head, I think I felt this building. Break was approaching and I felt the burn just like every other teacher and every student, so I know that it is not just work stress. Last week, when I said I check out, I meant that literally. I just stayed in my house and did nothing. Mostly, because I couldn't find the motivation to do much more than get up out of bed to move to the couch or to the computer. Then I had a burst mid-week and cleaned the ENTIRE house. Then, I lost all motivation, period. I have taken three days to grade one set of tests when I was knocking out assignments to be graded in pairs daily.
The urge to create struck, and I wanted to write so badly! I got two pages of writing on my novel done, and I was extremely happy with them, and then... it was gone again. Nothing was there! I don't even have writers block-- I know exactly what I want to write. I know the next thing I need to do, and where to go from there. I just can't physically accomplish the task of getting the words onto paper. It's like my imagination has been kidnapped and held for ransom.
Why did this have to happen now?
I guess, at least I still have the majority of the week to find whatever I need to fix this funk. But, I have got to get my ass in gear because I have evals on the 22nd.
Right now though, my little world feels small and bleak, and I fucking hate this shit. If achieving the paramount of my ambition is not enough to suffocate and wither the darkness, where can I possibly go from here?
Monday, October 8, 2012
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Perhaps, I'm just a cold, heartless bitch... Or, Why I won't wear pink to support the fight against Breast Cancer
I hate the color pink.
I have never especially enjoyed the color for the same reason I don't like my hair blonde. I feel like someone expected it of me, like I was told that is the way I should look as a woman. I feel like girls that buy pink things or dye their hair blond are subconsciously adhering to some expectation held for us.
Historically, pink has been the color of femininity, and thus it is regarded as a sweet, delicate, precious color. It's why we slather it over bachelorette party accessories and baby shower decorations. What frustrates me the most is when they slap pink on some ordinary every day thing just to target women consumers-- as if we would only purchase this item because they make it acceptable now that it is pink, and thus feminine. I realised the extent of the idiocy involved in this line of thinking the first time Wyatt and I considered buying a gun. I facepalmed when I saw the line of pink rifles and shotguns displayed behind the glass. What is even worse about the idea of a pink gun is that it says "Hey little lady-- hunting's a mans hobby, but since you insist on tagging along with him to go deer hunting, we'll make sure you have a special pretty gun make it acceptable for you".
Blue on a boy doesn't bother me at all. But pink on a girl makes my skin crawl. It damn near makes me angry. I mean, really, god damn, another one? We lost another one? It's 2012!
I went garage sale shopping a few weekends ago, and a overheard some kids talking. One little boy proudly held up an entire grocery bag of small toys and exclaimed to his friends "I got all these for a quarter!" The two girls in the group peered into the bag and one asked, "Didn't they have any girls toys?" Does it make me a deplorable human being if I can admit I wanted to bitch smack a seven year old? Just play with the fucking toy! I had legos, water guns, hot wheels, and a ton of other "boy toys" when I was a kid and I played with them just as much as my dolls and stuffed animals and my kitchen set. And why the fuck are all the girls toys cookware and cleaning equipment!? That's what every little girl wants! A toy vaccuum so she can learn how much house cleaning blows early.
This is the kind of dumb ass thinking they have programmed in our brains.
Now, before you even start, yes, I do traditionally "feminine" things. I wear makeup when I go out and to work and I wear the occasional dress because I love my calves, but look stumpy in shorts. I paint my nails every color of the visible spectrum-- EXCEPT PINK! Never pink.I just can't bring myself to do it.
The whole blue is for boys and pink is for girls is one of these lasts hold outs from the older generations of gender inequality. And, the fact that breast cancer was given the color pink pisses me the fuck off. As a woman, I know that breast cancer is a devastating diagnosis. Losing a breast would be unimaginable-- not because I feel that my breasts define me as a woman, but more that after carrying around these meat sacks for fifteen years it would be the equivalent of losing any other appendage. It's a part of your body, and I would be as depressed about losing a breast as I would be about a finger or an eye. Especially, when you consider the investment most women have made in buying overpriced tit slings to keep them from flopping around under your clothes.
It's just the idea that we have to associate pink with breast cancer because it primarily effects women. I mean, with that thinking, why is testicular cancer lilac, and not blue? I mean, if we have to be that fucking blatant about it, why aren't we just as stereotypical when it comes to boys?
I don't care if it makes me feel like a heartless bitch. I will not wear pink, even to support my breast cancer stricken aunt. It's just continuing the cycle of expectations held for women. I am respectful of all those afflicted or in remission, and I will keep hoping for all those women-- hoping, not praying, because what sense does it make if you believe that god has a plan for you, and every thing happens for a reason, that he would he take away the cancer he obviously gave you? That's why I don't pray. Because it makes that much sense. But, I will keep hoping... just not while wearing pink.
I have never especially enjoyed the color for the same reason I don't like my hair blonde. I feel like someone expected it of me, like I was told that is the way I should look as a woman. I feel like girls that buy pink things or dye their hair blond are subconsciously adhering to some expectation held for us.
Historically, pink has been the color of femininity, and thus it is regarded as a sweet, delicate, precious color. It's why we slather it over bachelorette party accessories and baby shower decorations. What frustrates me the most is when they slap pink on some ordinary every day thing just to target women consumers-- as if we would only purchase this item because they make it acceptable now that it is pink, and thus feminine. I realised the extent of the idiocy involved in this line of thinking the first time Wyatt and I considered buying a gun. I facepalmed when I saw the line of pink rifles and shotguns displayed behind the glass. What is even worse about the idea of a pink gun is that it says "Hey little lady-- hunting's a mans hobby, but since you insist on tagging along with him to go deer hunting, we'll make sure you have a special pretty gun make it acceptable for you".
Blue on a boy doesn't bother me at all. But pink on a girl makes my skin crawl. It damn near makes me angry. I mean, really, god damn, another one? We lost another one? It's 2012!
I went garage sale shopping a few weekends ago, and a overheard some kids talking. One little boy proudly held up an entire grocery bag of small toys and exclaimed to his friends "I got all these for a quarter!" The two girls in the group peered into the bag and one asked, "Didn't they have any girls toys?" Does it make me a deplorable human being if I can admit I wanted to bitch smack a seven year old? Just play with the fucking toy! I had legos, water guns, hot wheels, and a ton of other "boy toys" when I was a kid and I played with them just as much as my dolls and stuffed animals and my kitchen set. And why the fuck are all the girls toys cookware and cleaning equipment!? That's what every little girl wants! A toy vaccuum so she can learn how much house cleaning blows early.
This is the kind of dumb ass thinking they have programmed in our brains.
Now, before you even start, yes, I do traditionally "feminine" things. I wear makeup when I go out and to work and I wear the occasional dress because I love my calves, but look stumpy in shorts. I paint my nails every color of the visible spectrum-- EXCEPT PINK! Never pink.I just can't bring myself to do it.
The whole blue is for boys and pink is for girls is one of these lasts hold outs from the older generations of gender inequality. And, the fact that breast cancer was given the color pink pisses me the fuck off. As a woman, I know that breast cancer is a devastating diagnosis. Losing a breast would be unimaginable-- not because I feel that my breasts define me as a woman, but more that after carrying around these meat sacks for fifteen years it would be the equivalent of losing any other appendage. It's a part of your body, and I would be as depressed about losing a breast as I would be about a finger or an eye. Especially, when you consider the investment most women have made in buying overpriced tit slings to keep them from flopping around under your clothes.
It's just the idea that we have to associate pink with breast cancer because it primarily effects women. I mean, with that thinking, why is testicular cancer lilac, and not blue? I mean, if we have to be that fucking blatant about it, why aren't we just as stereotypical when it comes to boys?
I don't care if it makes me feel like a heartless bitch. I will not wear pink, even to support my breast cancer stricken aunt. It's just continuing the cycle of expectations held for women. I am respectful of all those afflicted or in remission, and I will keep hoping for all those women-- hoping, not praying, because what sense does it make if you believe that god has a plan for you, and every thing happens for a reason, that he would he take away the cancer he obviously gave you? That's why I don't pray. Because it makes that much sense. But, I will keep hoping... just not while wearing pink.
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