A Complete Nutter

I have a theory that the entire feminist movement is really about making men obsolete, by convincing women they don't need them. Like if they had it their way, men would be in cages and only used for their sperm, at least until women scientist formulated a way for women to reproduce in a A sexual way, like some fish.

How ever I don't think men are obsolete, nor do I ever want a world without them. God help me, I am so over this empowered women thing.

Of course that makes me super crazy, as my flat mate Kris not so eloquently stated. "I would be scared if I was X."

"Why is that?"

"Because you know how much your engagement ring is,"

"Didn't your ex-girlfriend ever talk about marriage with you?"

"Yeah, and I called her a nutter as well."

For one thing, most women have been told one thing for the majority of their lives, that their wedding day is (at least one of the) most important days in their lives. And even if they were raised in a hippy commune or some other feminist strong hold nature and having children is biologically built into them. If some women don't want this, then that is fine, but if there wasn't some built in biological desire to have children, then the human race would have become extinct.

Next is the time thing, let's be real, I'm 30, and my flat mate is 19. Having a "girlfriend" and "going steady" is new for him, and exciting. I want something long term. 10, 20, 30 years, kids and a home. I'm not saying I have some ridiculous fairytale in my head as I am quite well aware that being with another person takes work.

The problem I run into is that most of my past partners didn't want to put in the work. And since I can't do it all on my own, I feel like I am at the mercy to others. It's not like a job where you might actually hate your co-workers, but you still come out with something in the end. That being a paycheck. Your co-workers can't effect that. But in relationships, the other person directly effects the outcome of the relationship... So no matter how much you want, like or even love the other person, its not enough. Its not enough to make it work unless they want to make it work as well.

So maybe feminist have it right? Though I actually won't be subscribing to that idea since its not so much men that cause the aformentioned problems but a desire by a person to be in a loving, supportive, stable relationship. I would assume lesbian relationships still provide the same amount of emotional termoil, though I doubt I will be trying them out anytime soon.

A child's dream

I was reminded today by a friend I had when I was a young of a dream I had so long ago. Ashley told me that when we were younger and played pretend I would always want to be in Paris and speak French.

Now, 20 odd years later, I have realized my childhood dream. I am living in Paris, learning French. Who ever really realizes there childhood dreams?

It's bittersweet though. Because as much as I desired to be here, I have had a dream for just as long that seems as though it will never come to realization.

I am really a simple girl. All be it, a simple girl who is living in Paris and probably giving off the impression that I am more complex then I really am. But in my heart I have only had one dream. A family of my own. A husband and children. Maybe a dog and a home. But those aren't nearly as important as the family.

The older I get, the more I wonder if I am capable of achieving this. My rocky childhood has made loving myself a hard proposition. And no matter what I have accomplished in my life, my degree, careers, traveling it has been missing an essential part of what I deep down need. Someone to share it with.

I'm a shell of who I could be when I'm alone. Empty, lifeless, struggling to pull myself through a life I don't want. Keeping myself moving because if I stop, I don't think I will be able to start again.

I felt a calm joy when I met X. He brought to my life a clarity I needed. A seriousness I desired. But I fear he is about to tell me that he is not feeling the same. And it is crushing me.

I know that I will survive this. Im just not sure I want to any longer. I'm so tired of fighting. I'm so tired of losing.

People talk about how strong and brave I am. A lot. I moved to Paris without knowing a soul. I did the same in Austin and Chicago. What they don't know or see is that I'm not that brave. I'm not that strong. I turn to putty when I meet someone I click with. I fall head first, and usually land in a pit of despair.

I lose hours and days at the bottom of this hole. And it never feels like it is ever truly healed. And I don't know how to fix it. I don't know how to fix me.

Rodin Museé

Even in stone a women feels the need to shield herself. Her arms wrapped tightly around her chest, and head tucked as if she is blocking a blow she knows is coming.

Maybe she is protecting the world from herself. A deep pain that pushes at her from the inside threatening to cause her to explode into a million little pieces.

Her modesty rings inside me. I find myself waking up in the middle of the night wrapped up much the same way finding comfort in the pressure like a baby swaddled by her mother.

But I have no one there to do for me, so I do it alone. It's an existence I would claim to have made peace with, but it would be empty and hollow like a crystal vase after the flowers are long forgotten.

I'll have to take comfort in the presences of Rodins model. Imagine her not in stone, but flesh and blood. Looking out from her bowed head and long lashes her eyes peer into mine for a millisecond, letting me know I am not alone.

In a hurry.

It always seems that when you are in a car, your in a hurry. Even if you don't have a prescribed time to get to your destination, or even a destination in mind, you still drive as fast as you can, allowing the scenery to whirl by.

Today's scenery is beautiful. Lush green fields, tall crooked trees, old homes tuck away, and fields of freshly cut hay. The sky is a bright blue, with fluffy white clouds lazily strolling across the sky.

I've been dying to get out and walk barefoot on the grass. I want to lay down in a patch of sun and take a nap.

But I'm in the car with 3 other women, one of whom is bent out of shape and just wants to get to our next destination. Which I can live with. I don't want to make waves in an already fragile boat. Besides maybe I'll luck out and there will be a huge park by our hotel where I can lay out and enjoy the weather.

People like me

There was this girl I used to know. Her name was Yvonne. She was in a shotty relationship for most of our friendship.

At the time, I thought she was crazy. To be fair, most people did. Here she was chasing after a guy who didn't treat her well at all.

She tried my patience a lot. Mainly cause all she wanted to talk about was him. But I felt bad for her. I heard everything others said about her. How she was actually clinically crazy, how she keeps bringing it on herself, and the rumors of an eating disorder. They said she "needs a man" like it was a weakness, a disease that no one wanted. To need someone.

Maybe it was a case of misery loves company. I don't think I was in any sort of stable relationship at the time. Maybe I was jealous of her. She knew what others though of her, but she still wanted him. She loved him and maybe in his own sick way he loved her.

I am embarrassed that I contributed to the rumors and gossip about her. I'm embarrassed that I was as judgmental about her as I was. After all, I'm not that different from her. I think we wanted the exact same thing. Just to be loved.

I'm reeling from a text from guy X saying we need to have a chat soon. Since I got it around 330 yesterday I have been slowly skidding down a path I don't want to be on. In my head this chat starts..."You're a really great girl, but..." or "I've met someone else..." both end with an "I'm sorry," but that doesn't keep a girl warm at night.

My heart hurts. My head is spinning all kinds of tales of how I'm not good enough, or I did this wrong, or that. How wanting what I want is wrong. It's not going to happen if I want it.

It's not like I'm saying I want to rob a bank. Or kill a person. I'm saying I want to be loved be someone. To have some stability in a life marked by craters of chaos and deep sadness. Haven't I done enough? I didn't die. I didn't just stay in the muck that is Fresno. I climbed. Slowly, painfully, out of it.

But it still isn't enough. I don't know what will be.