Nancy's Musings

Have you ever scrolled down your Facebook feed and run into one of  those posts. . . you know, the click-bait "articles" titled things like "10 things totally awesome people do" or "15 thoughts awesome people never have" in the style of Seven Habits of Highly Effective People ? They aren't written by psychologists, and they aren't backed up by anything other than photos of attractive celebrities. They seem like harmless motivational advice, like the kind you get on free calendars, or you find framed in black and hanging on every wall in that call center where you work. These articles make a serious transgression, and I would encourage anyone reading this to mitigate the damage by not re-posting. Not all of the articles transgress in this way, but if you can't read critically with this idea in mind, remember that somebody will, and your carelessness can hurt them.  So, uh, Happy Galentine's Day. I'll talk more about the context I think ...

I have been seriously considering recently if (and if so, when) it is ever okay to consider one's self above or before others. It seems like a stupid question, but I work on the assumption that the universe is logical, if complex, and that rules exist in a hierarchy. The most obedient person is one who has the rules appropriately prioritized. By this amusingly simplistic rubric, getting into heaven begins with designing and running an algorithm. After that, it's a hardware problem. Well, why not? But what about selfishness. Is it ever okay to think of myself first? Contemporary thought would suggest that we dress and accoutre ourselves for ourselves as a thinking and creative subject, rather than thinking of ourselves as objects of a critical gaze. That is, we decide how to clothe or make up ourselves because of how it makes us feel, rather than what other people (either for arousal or judgment) think/feel. But isn't that selfish? If we were selfless, wouldn't we care t...

This is a follow-up post to Dreaming Lonely , which I wrote last week. It hasn't been very long since I started practicing seeing myself as removed from dating, but some really interesting things have happened in my brain since then. In just a week I realized how many of my opinions and decisions were giving in to an external pressure. When I thought I would have to marry one of them, I started seeing all men as either suitable or unsuitable and adjusting my standards by prospects. Whether shallow or not, all men were measured by some standard as either a match or mismatch to myself. This man was too stupid, that one too callous, and all of them more or less masculine, which seemed to be the biggest problem. And each man was put in the yes, no, or maybe bin until such a mythical day as he should choose to raise his hand and politely ask permission to excuse himself. There are two logical problems with my bins. Firstly, I am judging men by women's standards, and it just isn'...

I feel like I have blogged about this before. But as it is a recurring theme in my head, it might as well recur here. I was meditating peacefully in one of the holiest places on earth when it occurred to me again (because my brain has to be trained and slowly stroked into peacefulness, and it doesn't always work just before a new semester) that if I had managed to have a similar life back then, I would absolutely 100% have been burned as a witch in the middle ages. Frankly, it didn't take much. Unprotected women were the easiest targets (though as far as I can tell, men were also targeted). That meant poor widows, older single adults, the literate, and basically anyone who could inspire suspicion, fear, jealousy, or dislike. That's me all over the place. I'm not procreating, and therefore serve no useful purpose in the community. It's not that I'm grumpy, necessarily. Even married women get grumpy. It's that I don't have a gift for allaying suspicion. It...

I function best when I have something to look towards - some kind of ideal that nudges my actions. It's like that story that someone told in General Conference about the farmer with the really straight furrows, and his neighbor asks him how he gets them so straight, and he says "well, I look down the row, and I see something, and I keep my eye on that thing while I plough." So his neighbor thinks this is a fabulous idea, but next day, the farmer comes out and sees that his neighbor's rows are atrocious. He asks "didn't you take my suggestion?" and the neighbor says "yeah, but the cow kept moving." Well, my cow is moving. Since giving up on men just over a week ago, I have decided that because marriage isn't something I can dream of anymore, I need to have a single dream. I need to have a vision of what I can make my life without a significant other, partner, or family situation. So last night in my head as I was trying to sleep, I calculate...

So, December's dying again, folks. This month. I tell you. It's the drama queen of the Gregorian calendar. Speaking of drama queens: I'm over here, making work-life compromises that nobody is happy with, looking at my lonely old age, and shopping for a laptop that has to last me another ten years. I'm thinking Lenovo thinkpad refurbished. I've always wanted one, and there's no way I can afford one new. They cost like four times what my car is worth. More, probably. I pay the worth of the car every time I get an oil change. I don't do New Years' Resolutions. I don't believe that change should wait, and I don't like the idea that something essentially arbitrary (like the Gregorian calendar) should have any material influence on my soul's progress. But I do take every opportunity to get all depressingly introspective. Just ask my dad. I'm a fat old feminist. I'm an emotional minefield. I'm volatile and demanding and outrageously inde...

It's been a horrible week for me. My wins include not crying in front of anyone, no overtly self-destructive behaviors, remaining professional under superhuman pressures, and eating at least two meals a day. Yes!  I've been thinking about my men-friends, and the near-stalker who called me a misandrist this week ( before I could successfully download software to block his texts permanently ). I really feel bad for him. What would it be like inside a head so insecure that you have to believe that anyone who doesn't like you feels that way because of your gender? Sometimes people just don't like you. Most of the time, people just don't like me. This has been my week. Like Aeryn says,* "It's not you: it's me. I don't like you." I don't hate men. I don't even hate that one. I just refuse to remain where I am abused or manipulated. What about the other men I see more frequently? They know I'm a feminist. I want to follow up my Open Letter...