The Feminine Mystique

For one of my classes, I've been reading "The Feminine Mystique," by Betty Fridan. Here are some random quotes from the book, which I happen to be falling in love with (aka, it is making me think and creating an awareness of my own inadequacies as a woman with an identity):

“It is my thesis that the core of the problem for women today is not sexual but a problem of identity—a stunting or evasion of growth that is perpetuated by the feminine mystique. It is my thesis that as the Victorian culture did not permit women to accept or gratify their basic sexual needs, our culture does not permit women to accept or gratify their basic need to grow and fulfill their potentialities as human beings, a need which is not solely defined by their sexual role.” P 77

“The myth that these women [feminists] were ‘unnatural monsters’ was based on the belief that to destroy the God given subservience of women would destroy the home and make slaves of men… There were excesses, of course, as in any revolution, but the excesses of the feminists were in themselves a demonstration of the revolution’s necessity. They stemmed from, and were a passionate repudiation of, the degrading realities of woman’s life, the helpless subservience behind the gentle decorum that made women objects of such thinly veiled contempt to men that they even felt contempt for themselves.” P 87

The great question was, “Did women want these freedoms because they wanted to be men? Or did they want them because they also were human?” p 82

“Women who accepted the conditions which degraded them felt contempt for themselves and all women. The feminists who fought those conditions freed themselves of that contempt and had less reason to envy man.” P 92

“This is the real mystery: why did so many American women, with the ability and education to discover and create, go back home again, to look for ‘something more’ in housework and rearing children? For, paradoxically, in the same fifteen years in which the spirited New Woman was replaced by the Happy Housewife, the boundaries of the human world have widened, the pace of world change has quickened, and the very nature of human reality has become increasingly free from biological and material necessity. Does the mystique keep American woman from growing with the world? Does it force her to deny reality, as a woman in a mental hospital must deny reality to believe she is a queen?” p 67

Sociologists, psychologists, analysts, and educators called women’s high rate of emotional distress and breakdown by women in their twenties and thirties “role crisis” because women have received too much education making women feel equal to boys. Playinb baseball, riding bikes, conquering college boards, off to college, getting a job, living alone in Chicago, “testing and discovering their own powers in the world,” and then when marriage comes along, women are forced to adjust to a new submissive role. “If girls were educated for their role as women, they would not suffer this crisis, the adjusters say.” P 75 However, Fridan makes an interesting statement. What if this terror a young twenty-year old faces is the terror of growing up—“growing up, as women were not permitted to grow before? What if the terror a girl faces at twenty-one is the terror of freedom to decide her own life, with no one to order which path she will take, the freedom and necessity to take paths women before were not able to take? What if those who choose the path of ‘feminine adjustment’—evading this terror by marrying at eighteen, losing themselves in having babies and the details of housekeeping—are simply refusing to grow up, to face the question of their own identity?” p 76

Letter from Mom: YOU'LL BE SORRY TOO!!!!!

Hello My Dear Children!

I just emailed all of you an ABC news report on Nigerian mail scams. I have gotten emails like this repeatedly. I don't know how they get my email addresss, but I just wanted to warn you all. I recently got an email like this from a supposed Chinese company.

I also want to warn you about travel scams. Any letters you get offering free or low cost travel--ignore them. They are scams. Also, never even go to listen to any kind of timeshare or vacation travel club sales pitch. They are all lying to you. That's what we have found out. They make it sound much better than it really is. Never, ever buy a timeshare or a vacation travel club. You will be sorry.

Lots of love,
Mom


Well. THAT email put a smile on my face! If you only knew how easily scammed my mom is, you'd understand more. Gina should be smiling over this one because she knows many of the scam stories! My parents have LOTS of experience when it comes to being screwed, which is why this email is even funnier. And its funny she's lecturing my two brothers and I, because we are the voices of caution in the family while my parents gad about without their brains getting screwed by timeshares and vacation "deal" packages.

At least my mom is a warrior and fighter, so when she does get screwed, she'll screw them back and so far has forced them to give every cent back to her--thousands of dollars, too! I told her once that when she is old and crippled I'll let her get scammed so much money per month so then she can have the glee of getting her money back from the bastards, just to keep her happily occupied.

SHE LAUGHED.

Christian Right, Pat Robertson and Other Scary Stories

Yes. So this REALLY ticked me off. I got an email from the American Family Association which said:

The Kentucky Board of Education has voted to take the first step in redefining how America dates time. The board voted to include a new secular system of dating the calendar, BCE (Before Common Era) and CE (Common Era), and added it to the BC (Before Christ) and AD (Anno Domini, Latin for "in the year of our Lord") method.

The new secular system of time dating will appear in the curriculum and other materials used by Kentucky educators. This new system is already being included in textbooks across the nation.

The new method will replace the birth of Christ as the dividing point in history. For example, the new system would change 2006 AD (Anno Domini) to 2006 CE (Common Era).

It also opens the door for the ACLU to find a liberal activist judge who will forcefully remove the use of BC and AD. The ACLU types will claim that the use of BC and AD are a violation of the First Amendment because it dates history based on the birth of Christ.

So let's all just FREAK out about it, create havoc by introducing LEGISLATION to insure that authors are FORCED to write BC/AD in their VERY OWN BOOKS. I'm really starting to hate the Christian Right more and more. As far as I could find, the ACLU has not tried to forcefully remove the use of BC/AD as these guys would have us all believe. Punks. This isn't a salvational issue. Its not even a moral issue. Its crap, thats what it is. A childish fight, where both sides look more and more like complete fools.

I really hate many of their suped-up hyped up frantic emails, freaking out good little Christians into believing that our government is becoming Christ-Killers and pro-Atheism and anti-Christianity, even when most of them are Christians themselves, good solid church goers.

And so it was that Pat Robertson proclaimed that the little town in what was it, Ohio? anyway, that this town were nothing but godless and atheists when they decided to not teach creationism in their science class but rather teach creationism in a whole seperate classroom, devoted to the creationism vs. atheist positions. On NPR one of the board of directors for the school district said, "We have a church on every street, and each one of us on the board are strong Christians." Robertson was ready to send them to hell. Oh, he also is the one who asked for the assination of a South American President (was it Venezulian?) and who had an affair on his wife in the mid-90s. Bastard.

Time Management = $$$$$$$ (or in my case, knowledge!)

My Economics book says this:

Time is a valuable economic commodity; by using an hour in productive work a person can earn income. By using that hour for leisure or in consumption activities (aka spending money or not working), the individual incurs the opportunity cost of forgone income (aka they lose it); she or he sacrifices the income that could have been earned by working.

By accounting for time, we can explain certain observable phenomena that traditional theory does not explain. It may be rational for the unskilled worker or retiree whose time has little market value to ride a bus from Chicago to Pittsburgh. But the corporate executive, whose time is very valuable, will find it cheaper to fly, even though bus fare is only a faction of plane fare. It is sensible for the retiree, living on a modest company pension and SS check, to spend many hours shopping for bargains at the mall or taking long trips in a motor home. It is equally intelligent for the highly paid physician, working 55 hours per week, to buy a new eprsonal computer over the Internet and take short vacations at resorts.

People in other nations often feel affluent Americans are "wasteful" of food and other material goods but "overly economical" in their use of ti me. Americans who visit developing countries find that time is used casually or "squandered," while material goods are very highly prized and carefully used. THese differences are not a paradox or a case of radically different temperaments. The differences are primarily a rational reflection of the fact that the high productivity of labor in an industrially advanced society gives time a high market value, whereas the opposite is true in a low-income, developing country.

Huh. Wow. Makes logical sense, although it makes me sad there is such a huge difference between developed and undeveloped countries. Wouldn't it be nice if we could take more time to smell the roses but still keep our economy up and kicking? One or the other is sacrificed when you strip away the amenities of life. But this short paragraph seems to really be concise in explaining the different temperaments between countries--I've noticed the differences even in going from rural America to corporate America--Seattle, Washington, versus Colcord, Oklahoma. It is quite striking. California has such a rushed sense to it--almost as if life is frantic, so time is rarely wasted, even vacation time is full of huge activity. We are a nation of workaholics in many metropolis areas.

Or, take for instance, where I live. A small college town, seemingly lazy, and here I sit, after 5 pm already, and no chance of slowing down. I'm managing every second of every minute of every hour today. Why, I haven't even wasted time eating lunch! I'll do that shortly when I get home, but then I'll gobble it down as I race around the house changing clothes and heading out for the tennis courts for some exercise. Humph. As if I didn't get enough racing around the house trying to find everything I lost.

PLEASE WATCH THIS VIDEO when you have 52 minutes

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=3166797753930210643


Hi Laura,
I watched the movie this afternoon, and cried, then ordered the DVD, and I'd like to DO SOMETHING. I am the President of the Amnesty International Club on campus, and I know our core group of faithfuls will gather together. Do you have something in mind? Perhaps we could meet and do some brainstorming sometime.... Perhaps next Friday evening we could have the club meet, you could join us, and we could really figure something big to do--I looked on their webpage, www.invisiblechildren.com and saw we could have some speakers come to us. Our club might have the funds to fly someone out here. Perhaps we could have a fundraiser, ask several college bands/vocalists/performers to play, raise money, have a spaghetti feed, join in the April 29th (was it the 29th?) Awareness Day, start our own here in Walla Walla, or band together and go to the closest city (Spokane) that is having a vigil.

This coming Wednesday our club will be showing, "Paradise Now" and I'll be sending out a mass collegiate email inviting students to join us, and if possible, we could do a plug for our Invisible Children and invite people to a Friday night discussion on where we can make a difference. Let me know what you are thinking, and see if we can join forces to do something right for Uganda.
Sincerely,
Jen

***AHEM*** "Goodness" Yeah I Wrote THIS ONE!

A Beautiful Type

The tall swanky bloke swaggered down the aisle. "I am a sex god," he seemed to exude.

Simplistically speaking, there are two types of people. Them, and Us. "Them" is categorized as those who know they are wonderful--handsome, beautiful, powerful, rich--Us, well, me. My friends. Like seems to attract like. Now, there are varying categories to be sure, but remember, we are simplistically speaking. I know I am good, but wonderful? Bwa ha.

yesterday, after my Economics class, a young pretty blonde, categorized in the first group, beat me to the Prof's side. "Like, I totally want to start my IRA!" she flounced. "My grandpa, like, totally has given me several rental properties, and once he dies I inherit a huge chunk of his estate. not that I need his money, because my parents have plenty, but like, I totally want to be smart with my money unlike my cousins who like are totally wasting theirs." She continued to ramble on, listing her assets, knowing she had not a care in the world--her life is paved with gold. Them.

Us. I work for every single scrap of clothing I have. For a period I lived on Ramen Noodles, I dropped down to 92 pounds, and sometimes its as if I have this pride, that I survived. An award I earned by making it. My parents would have gladly given me anything I needed to not live on Ramen, but my badge of courage is something I can point to personally and say, "I am fine on my own. I am independent."

Redness creeped up my neck when the girl turned to me and randomly asked, "so like, what kind of car do you drive?" Where the hell did that come from? "A mini van" I croaked out. Then I realized that I was giving in to my types.

You are this type, so you belong here. You, yes, YOU, over there, go stand in that corner with that group. Poor? Oh, go straight down the hall, take a left, a group is waiting for you. Scraggy looking? Ah, yes. YOU types. You belong fixing cars or sweeping storehouses.

Types give complexes, both good and bad. Types draw the lines, creating boundaries, and wherever there are boundaries, so I read recently in my book, "No Boundaries," there are potential war lines.

I have no clue where I got it in my brain, but I believed I was meant to be a common house wife, crank out the kids, a baby on my hip, barefoot in the yard, screaming at my popsicle young'un to go clean her mobile home room up, cum'pny cummin. "what do poor people use for airconditioning?" "waving a popsicle around." School was a means to find H.I.M and settle down, doing the Lord's work (LW). I was the epitome of a bad complex, never realizing my potential, settling for less, never dreaming big, never having the self confidence that I actually could do whatever I wanted if only I set my mind to it and worked hard. I would go around my richer cousins with nicer clothes feeling inferior. I was just the tomboy who lived like a monkey outdoors, many times taking the cot outside and sleeping with my dogs, watching the stars.

The color creeped into my face as I admitted I drove a mini-van instead of a hot sports car like she does. And then when I was done with business with my professor, I thought about it some more. She may have an easier financial road than me, but I no longer need to compare me, or Us, to Them. I put my pants on the same way everyone else does, from President Bush down to the mailman. Yes, I struggle with types. I laughed when the swanky bloke swaggered down the church aisle today in chapel. Yes, I am writing this on a piece of paper instead of listening to the chapel speaker. Yes, I don't like my mini van. But I embrace it--I embrace all humanity, and I will try my best to view them all as equal instead of putting them into categories and types. I strongly struggle with putting other people into categories, but I am aware of it, and I will try not to, but just as important, I refuse to turn color and feel inferior to someone, especially over a stupid vehicle. God made me wonderful, and beautiful, just as He did to everyone out there, and I mean everyone.

I caustically laughed at the swaggering bloke, because he is full of self-pride, but I honestly can accept him for him, and realize everyone has their personal style and touch to life. I admire my fellow student who is thinking ahead to investing in her future. But I live in an Equal Opportunity United States, so you never know. Maybe I'll be her boss someday.

Nunez Gaona

The crew was calm and sedate as the Princessa approached Nunez Gaona. Fortunately no British ships had come into sight on the journey and the captain, Fidalgo was able to anchor and put boats ashore. The Princessa had arrived to build a fort at Nunez Gaona for the purpose of limiting British expansion on the Northwest coast. For although the Spanish had claim to all territory in the western hemisphere due to the Papal bull of 1493 the British fleet had become increasingly present in the northern waters and a source of nervous tension to the Spanish colonies in the south. With the British laying claim to all territory north of the Strait of Juan de Fuca it was necessary to establish a fort to retain Spanish possession of territory in the Northwest. Russian explorers also began making large claims of territory northwest of Nunez Gaona, an act which also made the Spanish nervous.

A new contact I made at PLU wrote this--he and I have been working on the Spanish fort in Neah Bay, and he has written a very well done paper on it! Isn't this piece really good!!!!!! I am so excited and inspired that I'm going to jump back in and start touching up my own paper. I should probably touch up my paper before I read his so I don't copy his. I've only read the first section and the last, which covers Ed, a tribal elder, still living. Yup, I'm stoked! I wish I could meet this guy and work with him on this project. But I suppose he's doing jolly fine without me anyway, so more kudos to him.

Becoming My Parents

The biggest fear most of us have is that one morning we will wake up and realize we have turned into our parents. It has already hapened to me--twice--and I'm telling you, it can be a shocker.

For years, we watch our parents parade through their lives, doing the most annoying things. Things we vow we will never do. Ever. Then, without warning, it happens.
My first you've-become-your-parent experience came last year. It ivolved an umbrella.
Umbrellas, as we all know, are fickle things. Liek mittens and Donald Trump, they don't stick around for the long haul.
But even knowing that, we went out and bought a nice umbrella. Big, black, beautiful. It would be with us for life.
It was not to be.
I realized this one rainy morning when my partner, Jack, was heading out the door to work, and he pulled one of the old, mangled umbrellas from teh stand. I asked him why he didn't take the new one. He then confessed he had already lost it. Left it somewhere. At lunch. At teh bank. Didn't matter. It was gone.
And then it happened. He turned to walk away, and the words just flew out of my mouth.
"I'm just sick about that umbrella!"
It was my mother speaking, but she was not there. It was a comment that would have irritated me beyond belief as a child. Part chastising. Part guilt trip. Part just a stupid thing a mother would say.
Jack realized what was happening. It scared him. He looked at me, closed the door, and walked away, leaving me standing there in the hallway wearing a pink bathrobe, curlers in my hair, coffee cup in hand. My mother, forty years ago.

By Craig Wilson, from USA Today called, "The Final Word."

Independent As A Pig On Ice--George MacMinn

"It is usually said democracy is fragile--but it is not. It is strong. It prevails at the end of the day, and that is what is important." George MacMinn, Clerk of the BC Legislative Assembly

"It is usually said, 'oh, he's just a politician'--that is unfortunate. You and I need to be ambassadors for the system, not party lines, not politics." George MacMinn

"Although I've been here a long time, I've never become cynical. Be firm in your support of your system as we are in ours." George macMinn

Mr. MacMinn talked to a small group of Washington Interns, including myself, a few months back when we visited their Parliament in Victoria, British Columbia. He is an absolutely fantastic individual whose passion for government is undeniable, and his service to his country worthy of admiration.

Bladders Empty, NO MONKEY BUSINESS!!!!

So technically I shouldn't be posting this, but since the student who wrote this is anonymous, I couldn't help but SPREAD IT TO THE WORLD because its so damn funny and pathetic. I do surveys for chapel at my college--this past chapel was a really beautiful chapel where the music deparment and various students performed--it was quite a somber and traditional and upscale affair, the kind where it is honestly rude for students to be walking in and out because its pitch dark inside except for the lighting on the particular group/person that is performing. This female student wrote,

"So, I thought yesterdays chapel was nice. I enjoyed the music and the fact that it wasn't a typical chapel. Although, it did seem to go on forever. I was a bit distraught when my friend got up to use the facilities and wasn't allowed to come back in. I was feeling slightly abandoned by this! She was forced to either wait in the lobby or sit in the balcony with complete strangers... the embarrasment she had to endure. I told her to just start kicking and screaming or just make run for it, that "they" probably wouldn't chase after her in fear of causing a scene. But she declined and resisted the poor advice I gave her and stayed by herself till the concert was over. I bet you had NO idea the kind of pressure that is put on us to be on time?? bladders empty, and quickly seated AND NO MONKEY BUSINESS! If we don't abide, then we have the wrath of peer judgement to endure. Nonetheless, it was still enjoyable. I always like it when chapel is changed up a bit."


airhead. ack. It frustrated me, but humored me as well, putting a smile on my face, and I hope yours too.

The Cold War and Rise of Civil Rights

Du Bois, one of the century’s foremost race activists, believed that American racism was endemic to America. The problem of America, according to him, was the problem of the color line, directly related to Western imperialism and exploitation of African and Asian peoples and resources. During this time period, the Cold War was in full swing, and Russia was viewed as a threat to world freedom. Du Bois wrote in 1947 that

“If tomorrow Russia disappeared from the face of the earth, the basic problem facing the modern world would remain: and that is, why is it, with the earth’s abundance and our mastery of natural forces, and miraculous technique; with our commerce belting the earth, and goods and services pouring from our stores, factories, ships and warehouses—why is it that nevertheless, most human beings are starving to death, dying of preventable diseases and too ignorant to know what is the matter, while a small minority are so rich that they cannot spend their income?”

The real issue to him was not Russia but the inherent problem of wealth, distribution, and indifference in a capitalist-dominated world. When he was in his nineties he turned to Communism—some think out of sheer rebellion against McCarthyism and the government, and others the possibility that he believed in it to some extent. He was arrested in 1951 for gathering signatures to abolish the atomic bomb because the State Department considered it a Soviet propaganda ploy. Du Bois retorted back that, “Today in this country it is becoming standard reaction to call anything ‘communist’ and therefore subversive and unpatriotic, which anybody for any reason dislikes.” This last quotation of his sounds vaguely familiar in our patriotic society, where criticizing the Bush administration is somehow unpatriotic.

There I end, a flopping fish, because I have nothing further to say.

Max, Harold, or Leroy?

So I am worried. No, no, not about the dumb blood tests--they all came back normal, PHEWEE. I'm fine. Doc said probably just a reaction to IB Profin, so more of that for me.

No. I am worried about my brother's unborn baby. For no particular reason, he wants to name his child either Max, Harold, or Leroy. God, help us, I beseech thee. My brother is psycho. Who would damn their unborn child with a name like Leeerrrrrooooyyyy? Or Max, short for Maxi-pad? I bet their child will be a stick child like all of us were--really skinny--and with a name like Max, he'll be dubbed Gay for sure. or take the name Harold, where one could come up with countless obscene names, harry ____ (fill in the blank with your desired expletive).

Why can't he just settle for a common name like John, David, Paul, or something mundane? At least the names are a step above these guys:

Here is a weird one for you, I was in a Burger King a month or so back, there was a young couple with a very small baby (not more than a month old) I asked them what they had named the baby, and they replied "Mordred". Well since the couple was pierced and tatooed all over themselves, I just shuddered and said a silent prayer for the unfortunate infant.

My children claim that their school bus driver's children are named Mercedes and Lexus. I'd believe anything right about now.

Well, if all those kids in the late 60s and early seventies survived being named Galadriel, Moonbeam, Starlight, etc then I think little Mordred will be OK. He'll just become Maury at some point. My Godson is named Dairmid Alpin S****. His paternal Grandmother had a fit. My friend wanted a name that honored her ancesters and I told her to go for it. He'll be Al by college anyway.

The kid I felt sorry or in junior highschol, had parents that immigrated from Germany in the 1950's. His name? Bill Wihlfahrt. Guaranteed to raise a few snickers at role call...And then there was the poor kid named "David Darling" and the math teacher: Mr. Boner....

I have personally met a Velveeta and an Aquanette.

I still have the receipts indicating that my server and cashier were Toshiba and Tequila, respectively.

And the chairman of the FTC is named Orson Swindle!

I was once taken aback by a girl being named "Latrina." She was doing well ina good college and I wonder how that name will hold her back. I since heard that it is fairly common in Central America (perhaps other Hispanic communities) when spelled LaTrina.

There's a dentist around here caller Dr Harry Butts. I feel incredibly sorry for the guy (and the poor guy I went to high school with whose last name was 'Honeybun')

I still remember the woman who named her kid Alpacino. I'm sure that boy (now school age) is getting the crap kicked out of him daily, poor tyke.

I once taught a Korean guy called F**k. Not to be pronounced "fook," you understand, please, pronounce it properly.

The name Nick prompts anything from smirks to gales of laughter around here (Arabic-speaking Middle East), being the Arabic equivalent of, um, "fook." One friend of mine changed his name to Andrew for the duration of his soujourn in Arab parts. The 24 children named "Unique" would have the same problem (different form of the same verb). And I have a student who has just named her baby daugher "Hoor." Poor wee thing, let's hope she never wants to visit the English-speaking world.

A trend for naming children after favourite possessions is accelerating in brand-driven America.

The records show that in 2000, 49 children were named Canon, followed by 11 Bentleys, five Jaguars and a Xerox.

There is also a Gouda and a Bologna, who are named after the cheese and the sausage rather than the places.

http://www.news.com.au/common/story_page/0,4057,7403152^401,00.html

Qwerty's Fatigue :O(:::::::::

After spending all day in a dead sleep yesterday, and extremely fatigued today as well, I went to see the Nurse Practitioner. They are doing blood tests on me now--hopefully it won't be bad tests that came back, but right now the NP is worried about Mono. You know, they totally shouldn't tell you their theories until they have hard evidence to back their claims up. Because now I'm just going to be on edge until tomorrow morning when the tests come back. At least they wrapped a happy yellow band around my arm where they drew blood out :O). It has smily faces all over! Yippee doo dah.

At least Dodds class was canceled, and Aamodt didn't mind that I wasn't there. Last night I tried to study, but all I did was stare blury-eyed at the walls until exasperated, I gave up and turned the lights out at 9:30 p.m. and fell into a fitful agonizing sleep. Midnight. Two. Four. Five. Got up at six. Still felt like crap. Still do. At least I get to be cheered up by grading quizzes for Susan, where hopefully some student who had no clue what the answer was wrote something hilarious for me to chuckle over.

Yeah, so, so, so...

I was "sick" Friday, felt awful, icky, and wanted to just die. Yeah, so, I went a a professor who gave me unmarked pills, calling them "IB Profin," of which I immediately blessed her dear soul and chugged them both down. 45 minutes later, I felt worse. I had a huge pasty smile on my lips, but my knees were shaking. Then my feet. Then my thighs. Then my torso. And huge red flames were shooting up my white arms. And I broke out in hives. And then I couldn't walk very well. And my boss drove me home, my brother rushed over to take care of me, I threw up, Rachel came to get me, she took me home, watched over me as I completely zonked out on her couch for hours. And then, I woke up, weak, but jolly fine!!! Bugger reaction to medication, I'm afraid.

So, I wrote this tonight in an email to a dear friend, and I decided to paste parts of it here.


You know me decently--
I was born in Idaho, lived in Colorado, grew up on a ranch in Oklahoma, went away to private academies in Arkansas and California, both parents still married, two older brothers, one still in college with a pregnant wife, the other dating a girl in Oregon.

I loved the ranch in Oklahoma. I was homeschooled during that time, so I basically was a wild child, one with nature. I spent every spare second outside, and I fell in love with the dirt, the rocks, the snakes, the insects, the air, the sun, the little flowers, the clouds, the creek. I spent hours wading in the creek, building forts, riding motorcycles, four-wheelers, pretending to be an Indian, a spy, an investagator, a super hero, saving the world all the time. I was wild and free.

And then my parents shipped me off to the strictest boarding academy on the face of this planet, right there next to boot camp, and there I started learning how to be a proper young lady, how to wear a dress all the time, how to cook, how to clean, how to keep my room neat. I would stare outside the windows as the different seasons would pass---summer, fall, winter, and the worst part, spring. The call of the wild beckoned me, but I stifled it all, wrapped it up in a box, put it on the shelf, and there it lies. I am slowly unwrapping it, and learning to savor it again, except this time, I have cares and worries, and pain, and a past. I have to move out of my apartment yet again unless I find someone to rent my apartment for the summer. I have to worry about my finances, to make sure I can do everything I want, and still keep a roof over my head, my car running, and food on the table. I have family issues to deal with, I have all the cares you have, and all the cares a middle class westerner has. And yet, we are all blessed.