Rude Awakening

I've been crossing paths with some serious feminist issues these last weeks. First it was the porn film, now it's kitchen design!

I'm doing a project for my documentary class on cooking shows and their faux-realism. I'm trying to present an evolution in cooking shows concurrent with the evolution of feminist theory. Julia Child = good, Martha Rosler's Semiotics of the Kitchen = angry, Martha Stewart = bad. The point is, I'm reading an article in a book about 'The Making of a Modern Kitchen'. Sexism goes so far back and is rooted so deeply that we can point to it in the design of kitchens in the 1920-30s. This is fascinating. The idea of the 'fitted kitchen' to make everything easier, to make a woman better at staying IN the home.This is very disheartening, but it makes perfect sense.

Who have (for the most part until recently) been designers? Men. What did the men of the period want? Women to be in the home, taking care of kids, and making meals. The kitchen was reconceived in the periods when men wanted women back into the home, but this new innovation was presented under the premise of 'bettering the function of the kitchen'. I'm surprised I had never entered kitchen design into the equation of sexism and oppression until now.

I feel slightly weighed down by all this feminist awareness.. and admittedly, a bit annoyed/frustrated/disappointed in people's reactions this reality. I guess I can't expect every man around me to be passionate about the cause of women... but some kind of sign of wanting to understand, or acknowledging their lack of understand would be nice.

Why do I want that? Why does it matter to me what other people feel about feminism, especially when my own feelings about it are mixed?

I need to find satisfaction in introducing people to ideas, not of convincing them of anything.

Just because I was cynical at 13, doesn't mean everyone else was... :)

"This Is Not A Love Story"

Yesterday was the worse day since last year around this time. One of those days were you lose hope in the world and humanity.

We watched a documentary in my class called "Not A Love Story: A Film About Pornography" and it shook me like I've never been shaken before. It has almost nothing to do with pornography or the sex industry (I say almost because I admit, sometimes I find some sexually explicit imagery offensive). It had everything to do with feelings.

As the film started I thought, 'Oh a film on pornography - interesting', a third of the way through my thoughts changed to, 'women who are offended by porn are just insecure, and that's okay, but they should just be aware of their own insecurities and let others go about their business', but about halfway into the film, I was holding back sobs. It was hearing men talk about their feelings, hearing the ignorance of a magazine publisher, hearing Margaret Atwood's poem on women's issues (genital mutilation particularly) and realizing how women can internalize and perpetuate men's hatred towards them. I know the film is dated, I know it has its own ethical problems, I know documentary's potential to manipulate its audience, but my impression isn't about that.

It's about the fact that people's feelings and complexity are often dismissed by society (evidenced by our class discussion where most people laughed off the film's message). It's my worry that as a woman I'll always be held back, or that I'll always be trying to get ahead, it's a fear that i'll end up a single mother and that society will forget me. It's a fear of being 'irrational or too sensitive'.

I know things are different now, I know most (if not all) the men around me have been raised by strong women, but somehow I can't let go of the possibility that if we forget this past, it'll repeat itself. If people stop feeling things... then we're in trouble.

e.e. cummings

I remember that I posted a poem a long time ago, back in the days of Vncnt. It was a poem by e.e. cummings. It's a very lovely poem and I sent it to P once in an email telling him I wish I had written it for him. He responded saying that clearly I carried people in my heart wherever I go. He transcribed part of it in my birthday card this year, I didn't recognize it at first, but some tears were shed when I put two and two together.

All this to say, I wonder if love expresses itself through ourselves similarly in all relationships. I wonder how its possible that I could feel like this poem was an apt expression for what I thought I felt for Vncnt and for what I know I feel for P. I suppose a lovely poem is a lovely poem (is a lovely poem is a lovely poem), and can be applied to many situations. I suppose that's what makes this poem good... it could be about love, or about friendship too.

I wish I took more pictures.

Time Heals All

I've been doing stretches lately, because it hurts my muscles when I bike to hard in the morning because I'm always rushing to get somewhere. So now I stretch at night, soon I'll do it in the morning, when I learn to slow down. I found a video online that is a relaxation excercise. When I did the acting workshop this summer, we would always start by doing this kind of centering excercise and it really works when you want it to.

A few months ago I freaked out at the thought of only seeing P once in a week, now, I am totally calm and satisfied with the amount of time we spend together. This week, we've seen each other for a lunch break and a quick supper at school, that's it so far and I feel totally okay with it.

Only thing I'm disappointed with these days is the fact that I waited until there are two weeks of school to start doing any schoolwork... in a few days, it's gonna be meltdown time.

But in the meantime, it's fun time.

Indulging (and happy)

I should remember all the sweet things P says to me and does for me. Like when he calls and says: 'hi pretty!' and when he says: 'thanks for making my day better!'

I bought him an awesome sweater at the Salvation Army the other day. A little on the hip side, but still, made in Italy, wool, sweet 50s style, perfection. He seemed like 'uhhh' when he opened it, but he was like 'i'll wear it because you bought it for me'. Then again, I would do the same for him.

I feel happy-happy, like a little bird, tweetin' about.

This is how I feel

TIGER HUG!

I wish I was Bruce Spingsteen.

He is the coolest.