Modern 21st Century Woman

Earlier today...
Thought Process

I am still so darn twitterpated about "Bob"**.  I have no gauge as to his feelings, especially since he is a naturally flirty guy.  Gratefully Becks ** is in my corner and will do some recon for me.  Bottom line, I think he is cute, funny and wonderful and I would like to spend more time with him.  I am definitely interested.  But, I have no clue if he is interested in me.  So, I am wondering, do I need to do something? Do I make the first move? 

Later Today...
After Church/evening

At church today, the bishopric spoke in our combined priesthood/rs meeting and the bishop encouraged us girls to ask guys out.  Made me a little nervous.  Should I be doing more? On top of everything else, I need to also be asking the men out? A part of me got (as usual) irritated by that idea. Partially because culture says that girls don’t ask guys out. (I am a woman! Pony up and do the work of wooing a girl!)  Partially because I feel like a lot of guys (generalizing the church men population) are too complacent and cozy. With a three to one ratio, they get their pick of the litter and get away with sloppy behavior.  Should that be rewarded by women doing all the work of dating now too? Bishop reminded us that it was the 21^st century and it was ok for girls to be asking guys out, that we [women] can do that. The “I am woman, I can do anything” momentum kicked in and for half the evening I have contemplated and seriously considered asking Bob** out.  I can. I can. I can rush in ask him (or any guy) out.

But then I realized my own longstanding belief and the real root of my irritation.  

Sure, I think that the men need to step it up.  I have felt that way for a long time (again I am broadly generalizing church guys here). But more than that, I am irritated by this “21^st century woman” rhetoric. Because, its not a matter of ability.  Sure, I can ask a guy out.  I can open my door.  I can do everything for myself independently but have a baby. Oh, wait, now, with artificial insemination, I don’t even need a man for that.  And this is my point. I don’t need a man.  If you line up all the logistics – I can accomplish everything myself.  Some call it liberation. Some call it leveling the playing field.  Call it what you wish, women these days don’t have a need for a man.  So, sure, I can ask a guy out.  But I don’t want to. I don’t want strip men of the little remaining masculinity in the mating/dating social selection process. And this is the root of my irritation.  By creating a culture of over-aggressive, over-dominant women, society spawned a “naked, crouching man.” Women asking men out is perpetuating the dominant woman and thereby reversing the 50’s era dominant man ideology – an imbalanced ideology which sparked the women’s liberation movement in the 60’s. How is it appropriate for one to be traded for another?

Men need responsibility, roles and rights just as much as women.  Its not a matter of equality, ability or independence.  It’s a matter inherent need and self-value. 

So tonight, I stand up for men.  Certainly I think at times they need to step up to the plate. (I don’t want to be another Zipporah – Exodus 4:25) But, so often, they get the short end of the stick in society’s eye.  They get kicked to the curb and quite possibly get contused by the mixed messages sent to them by the “modern, 21^st century” woman.   This woman tells men they are dispensable, expendable and even replaceable.  They assert themselves as independent, dominant, and close to perfect. Then expect men to pay for dinner, be respectful, open/not open doors, etc.

So, Bishop, while I agree that we are in the 21^st century, I don’t agree that women ought to be regularly asking men out.  The burden of that responsibility does not lie on my shoulders.  I will encourage, I will say yes, and I will occasionally ask a guy out.  But, I will not perpetuate or regularly participate in the stripping of our men’s identity or core being.  They are able to immerge from the cloud of false doctrine and mass false positive media messages. They can be men. Lets let them be men.

**names have been changed to preserve the identity of said boy and the pride of this blogs author..

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Landscape

I just finished skype calling my parents.  Good chat.  My dad mentioned something that stuck out to me.  

No matter the changing landscape, one still has to learn to live with oneself.  

Whether  my physical presence is in Sacramento, LA or DC, I as a person, am still here. So, one had best know and love that person and not merely the local. This last weeks has been a lesson about being kinder to myself.  Three people have told me to be kinder to myself over the course of a week and a half.  Because I am rough with myself I don’t always enjoy the journey.  So, I continue to have that as my goal.  Be kind with myself.  Don’t become entrapped with what I am not doing and not good at.  Let go of unnecessary burdens.  Love others with an open heart.  Allow moderate frustration but only enough to effectively move me forward.  See clearly the good things I am a part of and the vision of what I can do. Allow my soul to breathe and to relax. To truly feel and enjoy.

So I give a present to myself.  I would encourage you to do it to.  I present myself with kindness. Remembering that I do love life and all its funny quirks. Remembering that I am strong and able.  Remembering that I am lovely and loved. And you are too.

Life doesn’t go as planned.  Its not so rigid as to stay static.  The same picture of life can be perceived in many ways.  It zooms and swirls.  Its happy and real as a summer rainstorm.  We can take that and embrace it; own it; know it. We can then know ourselves. Or we can fear it, close down around it, pull the blinds over it and thus render ourselves strangers to our own souls.

This week as I have been kinder to my self, I have tasted again of bliss. Of untainted laughter.  I have worked hard and pushed to meet goals.  I have shared and been taught.

So I am glad the landscape has changed. Because in this change, I have changed.  Or rather, realized I am the same and have loved all the more.

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The papery skin is falling off…

Close to 1am...

 Jan 22 (although technically its still Thursday night since I haven’t gone to bed yet…)

I literally just went running and screaming through the streets of DC. Pure abandon and bliss.

Tonight my friend Ben (by the way, most of the Bens I’ve know have been intensely into music) took me to a fantastic concert at this gritty little club called Black Cat.  It had all the character indicadive of a small club – funky wall paint colors, dark-ish lighting (oxymoron, but lets not go there), excellent people watching, strange smells, mass out of promo posters and a pool table. After all, every club/venue//cool kids place needs a pool table.


Come to think of it, the club came complete with a very intense ticket taker woman.  I decided she must have had a bad dinner or no dinner at all.  She got very concerned when we stepped to close to the entryway without showing her our tickets.  When we tried to talk to her, she told us she could talk to us once we stepped back away from the doors and on the otherside of the "ticket" counter.  She repeated this after we stepped back, but not close enough to the imaginary line she set forth as the proper distance of entry examination. 

But, the heart of the night!

How I LOVE music.  Tonight was great. Much to my delight the opening, opening band was a great sound.  Faces on Film.  Check them out.  His voice is beautiful – and has this strangely haunting feel.  Not too sure if that sound will be there in a studio recording, but take it from me, the lead singer is great live! The middle band was NOT worth blowing some ear drum power on.  Horrible sound, but very entertaining band members.  They danced and had some great had gesturing.  To quote my friend Ben as we talked to the band (Animal Tropical)  after the show “You were like nothing I have heard before.” Honestly. Absolutely honesy.  It was like beatnik poetry set to grunge/guitar slam/clashing chords sung with off key vocals.  Great guys though. And I must tip my hat to George, the base player.  He was the size of the base! Short, short guy -Ecuadorian? Very entertaining.

The concert ran until around 11:45.  And as we left – it was freezing and raining! Ben started to run and I started to run in the hopes of staying warm and getting to the car quickly. He laughed and yelled “I’m dusting you. You cant run because you’re in flats!” (reference to an earlier comment on why I couldnt walk fast. He thought I was in heels. I told him I was wearing flats. He was confused) We started goofing off and yelling back and forth as we ran through the wet streets of DC scaring the concert goers walking around us.  It would be much more entertaining to you if you had been the couple under the umbrella we zoomed past...

We also discussed the fact that I say (out loud) good morning to both the Washington and Lincoln Memorials as I pass them on my daily commute.  We discussed the need to be more personal and creative with the names for my monument call out! “George” (said in French accent) and Hammy or Ham bone will be the names I try out in the morning.

And Ben, if you're reading this, your personal musk and 90's hair are not to be taken seriously. *

* Explain? Bens hair is long. Well, longish since his hairdresser moved away and he doesnt want to spend $40 for a haircut at the mall.  Nevermind that I would do it for $35.  He asked me what I thought. He told me to be honest.  I stalled. He then said "It looks like 90's hair." I agreed. Maybe I shouldnt have.  I am just honest that way. Personal Musk? Bens car smells like the leather airfreshner hanging from his rear view mirror.  Upon my discovery, Ben commented "that is my personal musk you're smelling."  No one ought to infer the richness of their personal musk. I told him never to use that phrase in a serious tone. Ever.

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Daily Thoughts Decipered

The last entry I posted was a simple, unfiltered, stream of thought journal entry. 

A little deciphering below....

1. sketches, photos and website designs given to a design friend who will have mock ups for me within a week = entirely new website/ blog/online store and music player
2. Partial draft of my autobiography given (tomorrow) to an editor
3. Meeting with local musician to talk about how to break into the live scene here in DC (Friday pm)
4. Possible big trip planned for my 30th birthday (yes folks, thats just 6 short months away!

The rest of the deciphering is in colors, textures, dreams (actual night dreams), thrift stores, fields and possibly my sock drawer.

If you (dad) cant seem to find me...check the Eiffel tower, Huntington beach, or my local fave place - the National Portrait Gallery for starters.

If I am not there, check a tree or my bed. I could be napping.

-

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Daily Thoughts

 January 19,  2010

I am sitting here at work, listening to Pandora and trying to find clinical citations to substantiate the gap in medical care/practices for treating autistic individuals.  And I sit here wishing the same wish I have for the last 8 years- to be on the road, singing.  And I wonder why I really don’t do it.  Why I keep circulating in the same type of job that is responsible and why I feel the need to be conventional when clearly my heart is not.  Why I cant seem to let go. And then it just hit me.  I shove and keep things inside.  And I need to let it out.  It all needs to come out and I need to stop holding on.  It sounds so simple and duh as I write it here on this black and white, but I don’t know – its just time to let go.  Really let it all go.  Run wild in the street.  Fly to Paris if I want.  Chase after a producer.  Play guitar till my fingers bleed.  Wrangle my passion again.  Laugh.  Flaminco dance in Spain.  Run with abandon under a full moon.  Buy a beach cruiser and a basket. I mean, really – why do I feel guilted into doing things that aren’t me?  There are plenty o musicians who have moved forward at their own pace without being swallowed into immorality.  So, today I make a real promise to myself. I wrote down this week on my newly created chalkboard the goal of being kinder to myself.  So, I promise to be serious about the matters of my heart.  And if that involves perceived irresponsibility or bruises, I am ok with that.  Children aren’t afraid – they don’t have hang-ups or fears.  That is something they learn and perceive.  As I stare outside onto the beauty of Maryland’s mini hills, I answer the question of why I am not happy, content.  Because I am not being true to myself – I keep tinkering on the edge of this presipice – I take test flights with the golden wings attached to my body, but test flights only get you down to the edge.

I have music to sing.  I have art to share.  I have a voice to speak. 

I have this image in my mind.  This lovely being, draped in white, with angel wings.  But, she is folded over; crouched, with her wings tucked away.  And all sorts of people and animals cirle around her, sniff it out, etc but it never moves.  Until the sun comes and touches her, and she imerges and gracefully flys away…

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