doctoral candidate in rhetoric and scientific and technical communication
Archive for January, 2001
Monday January 22, 2001
0The Weak Link
Yesterday I was talking to a friend about the roles of men and women…how many people are confused about where they belong and where they fit into a relationship.
I wrote this about a year ago because, in my family, I’m considered the sissy…the total girl…because I don’t do what everyone else does.
“Your family is one filled with strong women,” I was told.
“I am the weakest link,” I thought.
I was born to a family of hardy and stout western women for whom no challenge is too great, no fear unconquerable.
I am the sensitive one who would rather not pick up a nail gun, carry heavy loads of whatever, or even be the center of a party. Instead, I would rather sift soil between my fingertips as I lovingly plant a honeysuckle, go to a concert, or write a play.
I can do all of the things they do. I could. I’m not as physically strong as they are but I could still do it if I chose.
In addition to being physically strong, they are incredibly intelligent and beautiful. They are all comfortable with their places in life.
I, on the other hand, question myself hourly, if not minutely. I am rarely sure of myself or my actions even when I seem most possessed of self-confidence.
I’ve been told I’m brave because I’ve traveled by myself extensively and lived through some truly horrific experiences. I don’t feel brave, though. I often feel scared, alone, and very often, lost.
I don’t come from a family where those feelings are regarded as normal. I’m supposed to be stoic.
But I’m not.
the weak link
0Yesterday I was talking to a friend about the roles of men and women…how many people are confused about where they belong and where they fit into a relationship.
I wrote this about a year ago because, in my family, I’m considered the sissy…the total girl…because I don’t do what everyone else does.
“Your family is one filled with strong women,” I was told.
“I am the weakest link,” I thought.
I was born to a family of hardy and stout western women for whom no challenge is too great, no fear unconquerable.
I am the sensitive one who would rather not pick up a nail gun, carry heavy loads of whatever, or even be the center of a party. Instead, I would rather sift soil between my fingertips as I lovingly plant a honeysuckle, go to a concert, or write a play.
I can do all of the things they do. I could. I’m not as physically strong as they are but I could still do it if I chose.
In addition to being physically strong, they are incredibly intelligent and beautiful. They are all comfortable with their places in life.
I, on the other hand, question myself hourly, if not minutely. I am rarely sure of myself or my actions even when I seem most possessed of self-confidence.
I’ve been told I’m brave because I’ve traveled by myself extensively and lived through some truly horrific experiences. I don’t feel brave, though. I often feel scared, alone, and very often, lost.
I don’t come from a family where those feelings are regarded as normal. I’m supposed to be stoic.
But I’m not.
Sunday January 14, 2001
0Musical Journies
I wake up with music in my head. Songs I heard the day before waft through my sleepy brain and bring me into the day. Throughout the day, I listen to music. Lyrics, rhythms, harmonies, and melodies are filling my thoughts constantly. I can hear music within as I drift off to sleep. I love music. I can’t even image a day not filled with some sort of music.
You and your museum of lovers
The precious collection you’ve housed in your covers
My simpleness threatened by my own admissionAnd the bags are much too heavy
In my insecure condition
My pregnant mind is fat full with envy again
I am embarking on new journeys every day. I will be traveling home for the final trip from this current California expedition later this week. I think I will miss it here. I always say I’m not a big city girl but there is something to be said for this town I’m in. I’m mere minutes from the ocean. Anything I could ever desire is only a short drive down the road. It’s almost a hard decision. On one hand, I live in a beautiful town, surrounded by so much natural beauty. I have a nice existence there. On the other hand, my life has expanded and grown while I’ve been here. I’ve hooked up with old friends I had lost touch with and have been able to make some really great business connections. I will definitely miss this place.
But I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
I can’t help it?you’re my kind of man
I was talking to a friend about growing up poor. We were extremely poor. I remember, once, when my parents were trying to make their business grow, we didn’t have a home. We lived out of the business. My father built a loft in the back and put in the beds. Because it was a business, there wasn’t any bathtub or shower, of course, but simply a sink and toilet. We were young and my parents could make anything into an adventure for us. They bought a shiny new aluminum trash bin, the kinds you rarely see anymore on the curbs. We had a Coleman stove where my mom heated the water. We bathed in that trashcan. It went from youngest to oldest so I usually had some of the dirtiest water, being the oldest of four. We all laugh about that now. It was something we experienced together.
Wanted and adored by attractive women
Bountiful selection at your discretion
I know I’m diving into my own destructionSo why do we choose the boys that are naughty?
I don’t fit in so why do you want me?
And I know I can’t tame you?but I just keep trying‘Cause I love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
I’m on your list with all your other women
But I still love to wash in your old bathwater
You make me feel like I couldn’t love another
I can’t help it?you’re my kind of man
I’ve never been conventional. No one could ever accuse me of that. My mother says I’m eccentric. If that is the case, eccentric means that I live my life for the sheer joy of living it. I used to think the song, Never been to me was an anthem of my life. But I don’t think that’s true. Yes, I’ve lived in many glorious and wonderful places from the western slope of Montana to the City of London to small-town America on the Colorado River. Yes, I’ve loved many men and been loved by my share of men. But I truly think that the entire journey has been one of growth. I’m single, childless, and that gives me opportunities to experience and live life in ways that others, with different responsibilities, don’t necessarily have and I choose to do that.
Why do the good girls always want the bad boys?
I don’t want a bad boy. I want a man. I want someone who will ride that edge with me and take me beyond. I want someone who will push the boundaries as much as I do and enjoy the pure intoxication of doing so. Am I attracted to “bad boy” types? Definitely. I love men who live outside the box and rejoice in experiencing new and exciting things. It feeds me.
So I pacify problems with kisses and cuddles
Diligently doubtful through all kinds of trouble
Then I find myself choking on all my contradictions
I’m a mass of contradictions. Life is so rich and multi-layered, how can one not be full of contradictions? I want to explore the riches of the world and yet, still ache to be cuddled. I want to investigate the darker sides of my soul and then, turn around, and play with my puppies (these are mutually exclusive in my book! chuckle). I’m completely full of contradictions. And I make no apologies for that. It is me. I am learning that I’m tolerant of more and more discovery of my boundaries and myself as I age. I want to continue to push myself in all directions.
‘Cause I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
Share a toothbrush?you’re my kind of man
I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Make me feel like I couldn’t love another
I can’t help it?you’re my kind of manNo I can’t help myself
I can’t help myself
I still love to wash in your old bathwater
I am full of energy these days. I have some wonderful projects on my plate and there doesn’t seem to be enough time in each day to complete anything. Every new moment brings on another idea. I am restless. I am pacing around, knowing something is going to happen.
And when it does, another journey will take me to new places.
I can’t wait.
musical journeys
0I wake up with music in my head. Songs I heard the day before waft through my sleepy brain and bring me into the day. Throughout the day, I listen to music. Lyrics, rhythms, harmonies, and melodies are filling my thoughts constantly. I can hear music within as I drift off to sleep. I love music. I can’t even image a day not filled with some sort of music.
You and your museum of lovers
The precious collection you’ve housed in your covers
My simpleness threatened by my own admissionAnd the bags are much too heavy
In my insecure condition
My pregnant mind is fat full with envy again
I am embarking on new journeys every day. I will be traveling home for the final trip from this current California expedition later this week. I think I will miss it here. I always say I’m not a big city girl but there is something to be said for this town I’m in. I’m mere minutes from the ocean. Anything I could ever desire is only a short drive down the road. It’s almost a hard decision. On one hand, I live in a beautiful town, surrounded by so much natural beauty. I have a nice existence there. On the other hand, my life has expanded and grown while I’ve been here. I’ve hooked up with old friends I had lost touch with and have been able to make some really great business connections. I will definitely miss this place.
But I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
I can’t help it?you’re my kind of man
I was talking to a friend about growing up poor. We were extremely poor. I remember, once, when my parents were trying to make their business grow, we didn’t have a home. We lived out of the business. My father built a loft in the back and put in the beds. Because it was a business, there wasn’t any bathtub or shower, of course, but simply a sink and toilet. We were young and my parents could make anything into an adventure for us. They bought a shiny new aluminum trash bin, the kinds you rarely see anymore on the curbs. We had a Coleman stove where my mom heated the water. We bathed in that trashcan. It went from youngest to oldest so I usually had some of the dirtiest water, being the oldest of four. We all laugh about that now. It was something we experienced together.
Wanted and adored by attractive women
Bountiful selection at your discretion
I know I’m diving into my own destructionSo why do we choose the boys that are naughty?
I don’t fit in so why do you want me?
And I know I can’t tame you?but I just keep trying‘Cause I love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
I’m on your list with all your other women
But I still love to wash in your old bathwater
You make me feel like I couldn’t love another
I can’t help it?you’re my kind of man
I’ve never been conventional. No one could ever accuse me of that. My mother says I’m eccentric. If that is the case, eccentric means that I live my life for the sheer joy of living it. I used to think the song, Never been to me was an anthem of my life. But I don’t think that’s true. Yes, I’ve lived in many glorious and wonderful places from the western slope of Montana to the City of London to small-town America on the Colorado River. Yes, I’ve loved many men and been loved by my share of men. But I truly think that the entire journey has been one of growth. I’m single, childless, and that gives me opportunities to experience and live life in ways that others, with different responsibilities, don’t necessarily have and I choose to do that.
Why do the good girls always want the bad boys?
I don’t want a bad boy. I want a man. I want someone who will ride that edge with me and take me beyond. I want someone who will push the boundaries as much as I do and enjoy the pure intoxication of doing so. Am I attracted to “bad boy” types? Definitely. I love men who live outside the box and rejoice in experiencing new and exciting things. It feeds me.
So I pacify problems with kisses and cuddles
Diligently doubtful through all kinds of trouble
Then I find myself choking on all my contradictions
I’m a mass of contradictions. Life is so rich and multi-layered, how can one not be full of contradictions? I want to explore the riches of the world and yet, still ache to be cuddled. I want to investigate the darker sides of my soul and then, turn around, and play with my puppies (these are mutually exclusive in my book! chuckle). I’m completely full of contradictions. And I make no apologies for that. It is me. I am learning that I’m tolerant of more and more discovery of my boundaries and myself as I age. I want to continue to push myself in all directions.
‘Cause I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
Share a toothbrush?you’re my kind of man
I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Make me feel like I couldn’t love another
I can’t help it?you’re my kind of manNo I can’t help myself
I can’t help myself
I still love to wash in your old bathwater
I am full of energy these days. I have some wonderful projects on my plate and there doesn’t seem to be enough time in each day to complete anything. Every new moment brings on another idea. I am restless. I am pacing around, knowing something is going to happen.
And when it does, another journey will take me to new places.
I can’t wait.