Quodlibets

So much rests....

There's been a maelstrom surrounding children lately on a few of the blogs I read:  Pandagon and Feministe, mostly.  I highly suggest you go read both linked-to posts before you read this, but if you're just not willing to read the posts and the very many comments they inspired, that's fine; though if this doesn't make sense, refer back to those posts.

I think I've discussed on this blog my reticence to have children.  Meaning, I simply don't feel any maternal drive, and can't imagine having a child in my life.  Recently, I tried to imagine how I would feel after nine months of pregnancy, holding my baby, and the only thing I could come up with was:  miserably depressed.  Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm thinking that's not the way you're supposed to feel.  Oh, sure, I know people experience postpartum depression, but I highly doubt they go into pregnancy thinking, "I'll sure be depressed when this baby is born." 

I simply don't want children.  I can't give you one solid reason, except to say that I don't feel any sort of emotion or tenderness towards them (blanket statement though that may be), and I never have.  It can be called selfish, as some of my reasons for not wanting a child undoubtedly are.  However, it's also a form of self-preservation and unselfishness, because I don't think it's fair for me to bring a child into a home that's ambivalent about her arrival.  All the reasons I can ever think of to have a child are the wrong ones:  my mom would be such a great grandma or I don't want to lose S (which I very well might, if I decide I absolutely don't want children and he decides he really does).  Those aren't reasons to have a baby.  Very simply.

To say that I don't experience pressure about this would be completely untrue.  Whenever I say that I don't want kids, or that I have no maternal instinct, I'm bombarded with "Of course you do!" and that all-knowing, "You'll change your mind."  The first is obviously a ridiculous thing to say to someone.  And the second, well, it may come to pass that I do change my mind.  But I may not.  There's no way around that basic fact.  Since the age of 16, I've felt that I wasn't the kind of person who should be a mother, and that hasn't changed.  Not for any period of time.

I can't say why people seem so offended by the idea of a woman not having children.  I don't know what they think in their heads when they tell me that I'm essentially wrong, and that I do want children.  I suspect it has something to do with the assumption that all women want to be mommies, and furthermore, that all women should be mommies.  Either way, I don't want to be a mommy, and I don't feel as if I have some duty to be one.  Plenty of women are having children.  We're not in danger of underpopulation, I'm pretty sure.

This doesn't mean that I'm anti-child, or anti-family.  It doesn't mean that I hate kids, or that I hate parents.  Like all people, I prefer not to have a child behind me on an airplane that will kick my seat every five minutes, and I prefer to sit through dinner without having to listening to a screaming child.  It doesn't happen very often--and I once had a lovely experience on a packed airplane sitting next to a woman with a child young enough to not require his own seat.  But everyone has those bad experiences--on Saturday night, we went to dinner and a couple of kids near us wouldn't stay in their seats.  Just wouldn't stay put--and this is in a restaurant with extremely limited floorspace, and a long wait for a table.  These kids (somewhere around 6-8 in age, I think) actually complained that they didn't like mommy and daddy's table, and got their own.  In a restaurant, I might add, with a 20-30 min wait for a table.  So a family of four ended up taking up a table of four and a table of two.  You can't help but be a little huffy in that situation--though absolutely none of that is aimed at children, mind you, but parents.

Regardless, no other woman should rip me down for feeling this way.  I love Lauren, at feministe, and was deeply sad to see her go, but resented the impression she gave--that without children, we none of us could be as good a person as with them.  Whether or not she meant it quite that way, it was obviously percieved that way, by others and by me.  And whether it's her or not, quite a lot of people feel exactly that way--that if you don't have children, you're in some manner deviant and deficient.  It's insulting, and I especially believe that women should be damn careful of putting down other women in this way.

Amanda Marcotte, I believe, was right, in that childbirth and -rearing can be seen as a weapon in the war to oppress women.  It's not always that way, and I'm not suggesting that women can't freely choose to have children.  But when women--feminists, really--imply that real women do have to have children to be real women, well, we've got a problem.  No matter how many disclaimers you stick on a statement about having children, you better be damn sure what you're saying is that not having children doesn't make you less of a person, or less of a woman.  We need to be fighting for that, right alongside our fight to support mothers better, right alongside the fight to secure equal pay, and so on. 

It's not simple, not any of it.  But I would say that one of the most sexist, commonly held assumptions about women is still that they must have children to be fulfilled.  That only children can fulfill them.  I think it cuts across politics and class, and race and even gender, and that many people who are feminists still believe it.  And it's got to go away.  It's just got to stop.  You shouldn't always do something just because you can.

Anyway, I hope that wasn't too ranty, and I hope it made some sense.  I'm sure someone will come along and point out how I misread someone, or some comment, and I know, okay.  I know.  But these are my impressions of the whole thing. 

More later, possibly.

Never flying Spirit again

Well, this is sick.  It appears to be real, which makes it even worse than sick.  You know, I understand that people with a lot of money like to donate money to politicians.  I know it's happened with some of my more favorite stores and online retailers.  I make decisions to buy accordingly, at times.  Other times, despite being disgusted, I keep shopping somewhere.

I have to say, the Spirit ad, though, seems worse somehow.  Then again, maybe it's better, as the company's biases are all in the open.  Either way, I'm not flying Spirit again, and that's not an idle threat, or one that means nothing, as I have flown Spirit in the past few years, and am considering another Florida trip at some point in the future.  But nevermind, I'd rather pay more money than support a company that puts out ads like that.

I. Am. Unhappy.

We STILL can't get hot water at most times in the day.  And if the water does warm up at all, it's to a barely tolerable lukewarm.

I'm getting to the edge of my patience here.  This is unacceptable.  Not to be able to take a hot shower in your own apartment?  That's just bad news.  For the second time in a week, I'm going over to my sister's for a damn shower.  This makes me VERY sad and miserable.

Life here would be great if it weren't for the massive plumbing problems.  'Cause you know, not being able to get clean is pretty much an unliveable situation.  I can't go to my sister's every damn night.

Things I Like and Things I Don't Like

Our building is in the midst of a plumbing upgrade.  Hence the no running water on the day of the move, and the fact that S had no water yesterday, and will have none today.  Last week, the plumbing upgrade only caused a few problems--one faucet had so much sediment build-up it wouldn't work, the shower pressure is laughable, the water was brown and filled with black sediment for a few minutes after the faucet was started--but this week, things have gone from unpleasant to downright unacceptable.  Yes, friends, there was no hot water this morning.  And I let it RUN and run and run.  I finally decided I could take a cold shower, stepped into the shower and put my leg in it and decided, no, no I could not stick my head voluntarily under that cold water.

Hence, I am unshowered.  Unshowered and miserable.  I did get to work insanely early, but that's because I left the house WAY before I normally would have.  And I would have rather gotten here later in exchange for a hot shower.  Boy would I.  I'd heard other people complaining about the lack of hot water to the building engineer, but we didn't have that problem, so I figured it was a localized problem.  I don't think so anymore.  If the water isn't getting hot after work today, I'm afraid I'll be calling my sister and asking if I can come shower at her place.  I can't go two days without a shower, and if it's not hot later, there's no guarantee it'll be hot tomorrow.  I figure we should give the building time to do their upgrade, and complain after that.  If the upgrade doesn't help, we'll be putting in work orders until the situation is fixed.  People need to wash.  I mean, I'd even take lukewarm water.  But cold, no.  Cold water is bad. 

On a more positive note, I've already grown to love the fog-shrouded view of the city I get when I'm driving down Lake Shore.  It's not the Loop, just residential buildings with the big city in the background, but it makes me happy.  It makes me feel full somehow, and gives me enough to get through the commute.  And I love coming home to the city.  A long commute in the afternoon is okay, because I know when I get home, I'll be in the city.  People told me that I would love it, and I wasn't sure, but I'm pretty sure now.  I like our apartment (water issues and all--though if the hot water doesn't come on soon, I reserve the right to change that opinion), I like the park across the street, and the city behind us.  I like knowing that I'm five minutes from good stuff.  I like walking to the drug store and grocery store.  I like it.  I like it all. 

"Nobody uses three locks!"

So says our new landlord, when we inform her that we don't have a key for the deadbolt.  Personally, I'd like to use three locks, so this could be the beginning of an ugly war over three locks, and whether or not we can get the key for the existing lock, or get a new lock.  I won't say that we rented the new place because it had three locks on the door, but I know that I did notice those three locks and think, "That's nice, we'll be nice and safe inside." 

But now, because S didn't stress to our landlord that we want three locks, she thinks we're fine and dandy with two--two flimsy locks.  I want a goddamn deadbolt.

That's not the only thing I'm freaking out about, right now.  Apparently, the water in our new building will be shut off (SHUT. OFF.) the day of our move.  Convenient, eh?  When I scheduled the move with the building engineer, he said nothing about water being off.  But now, until 4 pm, we can't PEE in our apartment.  That's right, we can't pee.  We can't pee, and we can't wash our hands, and we're going to be DIRTY.  Does this suck?  Yeah, kinda.  Will the move still happen?  Yes. 

I wish I could be calmer about all this, but as we all know, I'm not a calm sort of person.  Though I think I'm doing well on the outside.  On the inside, I'm a mess.  Which is now sort of on the outside because I'm typing this.

Will update key situation later.

Wha???

This morning, on my way to work, I noticed a new billboard.  It was red, with big white lettering in the upper left-hand corner.  It said this:  My boogers itch.

Am I missing something?  Because I don't get it.

Madge

She's a diva, no doubt about it.  Last night, the concert was supposed to start at 7:30.  Madonna came on at 8:50.  It was slightly ridiculous.  Okay, it was very ridiculous.  But I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that the crowd mostly forgave her, because the show is that good.  I'm not saying the music was that good, but just the sheer spectacle.  Plus, in all honesty, it's pretty damn fun to watch Madonna cavort around stage in her little outfits and big dance boots.  She's hot, okay?  For a 47 year-old, she's got it.  I mean, she is sexier than you think, and more gorgeous than you think.  She was hard to look away from.  I'm incredibly glad I went, simply so I can say that I saw her.  Worth every penny (that my dad and his fiancee spent...thanks guys!).

The crowd was very interesting.  Lots and lots of gay men (ooooodles of them; it made me want a gay boyfriend something fierce), and obviously, straight women.  There were straight men at the show, but they were mostly attached at the hand to some Madonna-loving woman.  I don't think that we saw any groups of straight men just hanging out together at the Madonna concert.  I could be wrong, but I doubt it.  And the age range!  There were women who were probably in their teens and twenties when Madonna was big in the 80's dancing like mad when Madge did "Like a Virgin".  The woman in front of us, wearing the ugliest printed capris I've ever seen before (green and purple?  with big black abstract flowers?  UGLY, lady.), was clearly of that ilk.  She seemed to most come alive when Madonna did the old songs, and anyway, she couldn't dance.  Or the woman in the row with us, who pushed her way out in the middle of the show, saying, "Sorry, sorry, my kids are on the phone."  She was also drinking a lot, and later in the show said to me and Bee (my cousin), "If you guys want to move into our seats, we won't be crawling over you so much."  Because her and her seatmate left to get beer so often, and Bee and I were on the end of the road.  Like hell I'm giving up my seats so that you can drink more!

It actually was the strangest experience I've ever had a concert.  Because of the crowd.  I don't think I can adequately express how surreal it was, but I'll try.  I think that the crowd was riled up because of the wait, and that led to lots of unhappy situations.  Now, I also think that because of the long wait many of the people in the crowd didn't feel inclined to get up and dance.  I sure didn't.  Bee and I were at the end of the second row in section 202.  That, for all those unfamiliar with the United Center, is the first balcony.  In the section next to us, at the end of the first row closest to us, a group of four individuals were standing up.  Because of the stage position, and the sight-lines, they effectively blocked a whole group of people (Bee and I marginally being part of that group) from seeing the show.  This angered already angry people.  The women behind Bee and I were older, and drunk off their asses.  They smelled like a brewery when they walked in.  They were also sort of rough-looking--when talking about them to Bee, I said that they were "broads".  And no word could better describe them.  Anyway, their drunkeness combined with the inconsiderate jerks in the first row created a volatile situation.  They SCREAMED during EVERY single song for those people to "SIT THE FUCK DOWN, ASSHOLES." or "MOTHERFUCKERS, SIT DOWN."  It was loud and unpleasant, and they were angry.

The couple behind the standers was also angry, and they approached the ushers, who TWICE approached the standers and asked them to sit.  They did not.  Then the male person in the couple SCREAMED at the standers (not sure what he was saying) because the female person in the couple left.  Walked out in a huff.  (She eventually came back.)  THEN, and this is where it gets good, one of the old broads behind Bee and I threw an ENTIRE cup of beer at the back of the stander closest to us.  I mean, LAUNCHED a beer right at him.  Oh baby, was he soaked.  And angry.  Of course, now they seem to be standing just to make a point:  "We bought these tickets and goddamnit we can stand if we want to."  Plus, the one guy is wet all down his back with beer.  Not pleasant to sit in beer pants. 

Honestly, I'm not quite sure how the situation was diffused.  Eventually, the standers sat and the broads behind us shut up.  Though Bee said that once when she used the washroom, when she came back in, one of them was sleeping.  Not surprising.  The ladies did duck out before the end of the show, possibly because they were so drunk, but I'd not be surprised if it was more about avoiding security after the show.  What a bunch of fucknuts, all of them.

And this was not even the only occurrence of said behavior.  Down the row from us (closer to where M and her daughter JJ were sitting), one man was escorted out of the concert by security, never to return, presumably for the same sort of sitting person angst--he harassed a girl in the first row who insisted on standing, and threw something at her.  This is according to M, because Bee and I barely registered that disturbance, so great was the one going on near us. 

Part of the problem, of course, was that EVERYONE besides us was smashed.  There was a long wait for the show, people were bored, and so they plunked down $7 a drink and got drunker than drunk.  Like I said, I've never had such an experience at concert, and never want to repeat it.  (Bee did have some beer dumped down her back by the drunk broad behind her.  They were so repellent.  At one point, one of them tapped me with her inexact, drunk hands and said, "I hope I didn't spill on you." and all I could think was, "I hope you're not driving home."  But Bee said that she heard them say that they had driven in from Wisconsin to see the show.  Which is scary.  They were INSANELY past the point of being able to drive.)

Anyway, I never need to see Madonna again.  I'm glad I went, and I'm glad it's over.

I'm an assbag

So, I'm an assbag.  I know I said it once already in the title of this piece (I'm trying to STRESS it), but really, I am.

On Friday, I was talking about the reunion with my pseudo-boss, and I mentioned that part of my hesitation about the whole thing was the prospect of running into my ex.  Of course, being the heterosexually-assumptive society we are, she assumed my ex was a him.  And here's why I am an assbag:  I didn't correct her.  I'm not usually such a shitty person about it, I swear.  I've told any and every person ever (including persons I hardly know) that I had a girlfriend.  I've never been ashamed of the fact (though I'm slightly ashamed of who I dated, because she turned out to be a destructive maniac, both towards herself and me) that I dated a woman, but suddenly, I was in uncharted territory.

And I'm SO mad at myself.  Just, angry.  Because now if I ever do decide to correct her assumption, she'll wonder, and if I don't, I'll continue to feel small and angry.  Again, I'm not sure why it matters if I dated a woman; my pseudo-boss is open and wonderful, and the person who did this job before me was an out lesbian.  So it's not even like I should have been afraid of some sort of discrimination, or frosty demeanor on the part of my PB (pseudo-boss).  I'm wondering why it felt so awkward to just drop a "she" in the conversation, because like I've said, it never really has before.  I suspect that mostly, I'm very conscious of the fact that I want my PB to like me, but like I said, I can't imagine it would have changed the way she thought of me.  Then again, I was never party to her relationship with my predecessor, but I know it wasn't the sort of relationship I'm building with the PB. 

Regardless, no matter how I turn the matter over in my head, I feel like a gigantic shit.  Like it wasn't dating a man that betrayed lesbians I've known and loved, but the cold, hard denial of "she" that did it.  It's proof of how fucked up my behavior is that I'm sitting here now thinking about it, and I'm wondering how I can possibly work my ex into a conversation, so I can make it very clear that my ex is a woman.  It's just that I know how shitty what I did was, and now I can't figure out how to fix it, without marching into my PB's office and explaining all this, which would probably make things weirder than they are now.  I can't quite bring myself to do that, either, even though it might be just the right thing to do.

Argh.  I. Am. A. Giant. Ass. Bag.

Slight Glitch

I meant to write this up yesterday, but this will have to do.  Yesterday, I did an Amazon search for the book Sex with Kings, which is an historical account of the mistresses of various kings.  (I once did a paper in college about Louis the XVI's [either him or Louis XVII's] mistress, a very powerful woman in her time, and I maintain a fascination with Napoleon and Josephine and Marie Antoinette to this day.  Anyway, the book seems right up my alley.)

But instead of getting the generic results screen, or the exact page I was looking for, that search pulled up a book about Martin Luther King Jr.  Not kidding.  I just tried to replicate the results now, and it didn't work.  One of those little bugs that happen every once in a while (like the publicized result for searching "abortion": did you mean adoption?), but a funny one.  It's also in considerably poor taste, but what can you do?  It wasn't any human error that produced that result.  As long as it's not still happening....

More on Amazon:  Today, I did a big order for the library from Amazon, for our popular rental video collection.  Three (so far) of the videos are listed as Region: Unknown.  Which means that we can't purchase them, just in case they don't play on Region 1 DVD players.  I wanted an answer as to why certain titles would list that way, especially considering those very same DVDs are available online from Facets--with nary a warning about region.  So I went to the DVD region help page, which wasn't helpful in the least, and was about to email customer service when I noticed a "by phone" button.  If you press this, you are given the option of having Amazon customer service call you on a number you provide, in a time frame you provide.  What the hell, I thought. 

The call was prompt, the help was prompt, but the help was also useless.  The girl on the line just read me the information from the website, which unfortunately for her, I had already read.  I wanted bigger answers.  For instance, why?  Why are some DVDs regions unknown?  She said the only info. she had at her disposal was the information on the web page.  Whaaaaaa?  What's the damn point of customer service if they have no additional information?  I know it's not that poor girl's fault, and I tried to be ultra-polite as I pumped her for information, but really.  How useless.

Quick Question

So who else bawled their way through the last ten minutes of Grey's Anatomy last night?

Anyone?