ISleepInADrawer.com

Because We Choose Not to Care

Miss Teen South Carolina thinks that 20% of Americans can't identify the United States of America on a world map because we don't have enough maps... apparently like South Africa (which is one of the wealthiest, most democratic, stable and best educated countries on the African continent, by the way) and "the Iraq".

(the Iraq???)

After I finished laughing, I wept for her and the entire country. I'm glad I wasn't the only one weeping. But, I also reminded myself how, in the run-up to the 2000 election, then Governor Bush of Texas seemed unbothered that he couldn't name the President of Pakistan. So, it should come as no wonder that this woman was crowned Miss Teen South Carolina, and that 20% of Americans can't locate their country on a world map. But, rather than continue this rant, I'll just direct you to this same rant from last spring.

By the way, here's my answer to the question: one-fifth of Americans can't locate the United States of America on a world map because Americans (by and large) choose not to care... which, to me, explains quite a lot.

Family

With our first webcam, no less.

Dysfunction: Twenty-four hours later, damn-asthmatic-kitty peed on the f***ing futon. She must not like having two dads.

Age of Experience

Zach: "No, I'm too old."
James: "No you're not! You must not have read the papers today!"

Ask the Experts

Ouch.

The Handshake

Today, in preparation for my mother's visit this weekend, I found myself in Belltown near Zach's office, running some errands. Since it was nearly lunchtime, I stopped by my new favorite bakery, bought myself a sandwich and both of us cookies, and came by his office to eat lunch.

While there, Zach's immediate supervisor, whom I'd never met, passed his office and Zach introduced me to her.

I was raised to value a handshake. Hell, I was raised to base most of a person's character on the duration, force, thrust, command, and dexterity of his or her handshake. Perhaps it's a Southern culture thing. It surely put me at odds with most Midwesterners growing up, since they seem to think of handshakes as opportunities to break one another's bones. But, out here in Seattle, my "commanding" handshake, which my father (and his father) made me practice growing up, has caught most Pacific Northwesterners by surprise... I think handshakes are seen as an "old school" formality here. Most people are momentarily shocked when I try to shake hands. Some ask incredulously what I'm doing, as if I'd suddenly stripped naked and started singing Wagner operas backwards at the top of my lungs. Occasionally, I find a Midwestern bone-crusher or a cordial Southerner.

And occasionally, I'm also apparently caught off my guard and forget one important step in the handshaking experience. Zach's immediate supervisor experienced this firsthand when I, attempting to shake her hand after lunch today, forgot to aim.

I gave her wrist a firm handshake.

As I then apparently turned bright red, and Zach's immediate supervisor looked like she'd just touched something dirty, Zach himself broke the awkward silence by erupting in a fierce fit of laughter. In the confusion, Zach's supervisor slipped away to move to another country. One of Zach's co-workers witnessed the wristshake, however, and came over to offer her sympathies for my lack of coordination. Still mortified (and quite busy hatching plots to kill Zach, since he was still desperately clutching his chest in a vain effort to stay the flow of gut-splitting guffaws from his lungs), I put my brain on auto pilot and extended my hand to shake hers. Oddly enough, she took it.

She tried to compliment me later on the power of that handshake, but I was too busy trying to sprint to an exit to hear her.

Security

Now that Zach and I got one of these, I get to carry around a card in my wallet that proves it. The card's situated next to my bus pass and my Seattle Art Museum membership card.

I also get to feel reassured that something like this is less likely to happen to me now. In a word: yikes. Of course, a wallet card with Zach's name and my name on it isn't 100% security against something like what's happened to that couple in Indiana; but it still comes a hell of a lot closer than the will I could never afford to get.

Of course, a situation like the one in Indiana also less likely to happen to me right now since my folks not only adore Zach, but appear to be so enthusiastic about him that I sometimes wonder if they'd rather have him as a son. My mom's visiting later this week; I'll have to watch her carefully.

Sunday at Home with Zach

"Don't burn my potato pancakes, bitch!"

Luckily, he slapped me on the ass right after saying that. Otherwise, he would've been in big trouble.

On the Homefront

My baymate (If you don't conduct biological research, then the term baymate is likely foreign. Ignore it and substitute "person in the 'cubicle' next to mine.") and I discussed my lack of cooking skills today. She was perplexed at how I, being raised by such progressive Southerners, can't make hush puppies, fried corn, or even blackberry cobbler.

"It's worse," I said. "I can barely bake biscuits."

From what I can tell, my parents avoided giving either of their children domestic skills. And, from what I can fathom as a reason, these actions were taken solely to prevent my older sister from ever feeling like she had to grow up to be a housewife of any sort. A noble goal - I would've been disgusted had she been raised to think she was only put on this good Earth to submit to a husband's will, or stay at home and keep house rather than pursue her own interests in her chosen career.

But, an unfortunate side effect is that I can't sew a button. Or make zucchini bread. Six months ago, I accidentally ripped a hole in the crotch of my favorite pants, and attempted to stitch the rip up. First off, it took me a day to thread the needle. And, when I sewed, the final stitch made Frankenstein look like a fashion model. To add insult to injury, one trip through my washing machine ripped the stitches again. My mom's visiting Seattle next week, and I'm seriously considering asking her to sew the pants for me, her twenty-six year old son in graduate school.

Zach, who has a law degree with honors, doesn't have these skills, either. But, despite my sewing handicap, I think I'm closer than him to mastering them. He, after all, burned toast yesterday morning. Badly. And I can at least make toast. (Don't ask me how we eat. I'm not exactly sure myself, but I think it has something to do with Exodus.)

So, upon reading this article today, I realized that the Lord had finally provided... she had seen the void in my life, and was offering help!

"Coursework will include seven credit hours of nutrition and meal preparation, seven hours of textile design and 'clothing construction,' three hours of general homemaking, three hours on 'the value of a child,' and three hours on the 'biblical model for the home and family.'"

Of course, I don't need a class to tell me "the value of a child." I have a heart - and I want a family someday, so I know the value of a child. Nor do I need someone to tell me about the Bible and family models - I've probably read the Bible more than any of their instructors. But, I'll gladly bow down to any Baal idol that would pass out syllabi and instruction manuals on meal preparation, homemaking, and clothing construction. Hallelujah! I am saved!

"[Southwestern Baptist, one of the nation's largest Southern Baptist seminaries] will offer a bachelor of arts in humanities degree with a concentration in homemaking. The program is open only to women."

Sh*t.

Libertarianism

I recently took an online quiz that's supposed to tell me how much of a feminist I am. At least, based on how much one can conclude from a simple ten or eleven question multiple choice quiz. I was expecting a "respectible" level of feminism, say between 50% and 75%. I was, after all, raised in a fairly progressive (albeit with Southern charm and Sunday School) household - so I was expecting myself to give proper "feminist" answers to those questions relating to core tenets of feminism (gender equality, etc.). I was expecting to lose "feminist" points (as I'm often reminded here in heavily-feminist Seattle) for questions relating to how (theoretically or in reality) gender equality is (or should be) achieved. I expected to be docked points on the latter case since, after living in Seattle for four years now after leaving the (semi-)rural midwest, I was beginning to think I wasn't much of a feminist.

I've been thinking I'm not much of a feminist because, in my four years of living in Seattle, I've time and again been directly or passively chastized for various displays of apparently "male chauvinist" behavior. Among them:
1. Use of the words "steward" or "stewardess" rather than "flight attendant."
2. Partitioning the "homosexual" crowd by gender into "gay men" and "lesbian" rather than embracing the term "queer."
3. Spelling it "woman," not "womyn."
4. Titling all elected members of the lower house of the federal Congress as "Congressmen," regardless of gender.
5. Using the title "Mrs." for married women lacking another suitable title conferred by an advanced degree or profession, and reserving the title "Ms." for an unmarried woman in a similar situation.
6. Addressing women as "ma'am" and men as "sir" rather than... well, I'm not exactly sure what I'm supposed to use as an alternative.
7. Stating that I support most childhood vaccinations.
8. Hypothesizing that I'd be less likely to let my (hypothetical) son pierce his ears at a young age, but would be more likely to let my (hypothetical) daughter.
9. Saying that it's okay for men's restrooms to have urinals.

In the above cases, and more, I've apparently violated absolute tenets of feminism while living in Seattle. I didn't realize I was. I thought I was brought up to be respectable. But, those above items are just a few of the many wasy in which I apparently have not been a "good feminist" all these years. Hence why I was surpised to receive this score on the aforementioned feminism test:

You Are 100% Feminist

You are a total feminist. This doesn't mean you're a man hater (in fact, you may be a man). You just think that men and women should be treated equally. It's a simple idea but somehow complicated for the world to put into action.

100%?? Me? A 100% feminist?... After I referred to Cathy McMorris Rodgers as Congressman McMorris Rodgers? After I said it's okay for a woman, when she marries, to take her husband's last name if she wants to? After I referred to my governor as "Madame Governor"? After I've repeatedly called female homosexuals "lesbians"? After I called a male flight attendant "steward"? I've been told - nay, lectured to - time and again - that these above incidents are not becoming of a feminist (and definitely not a 100% feminist), and are instead all signs of male chauvinism. I've spent the past four years slowly coming to terms with the fact that I'm apparently not the hardcore feminist I thought I was back in Illinois, and now here I find out that I apparently am a hardcore feminist! So, why the contradiction?

Well, the obvious answer, as you (the reader) have already guessed, is that the online quiz was stupid, petty, and superficial, and that we can't draw sweeping conclusions from it. But, the absolute beauty of me is that I always draw broad, sweeping conclusions from small, petty happenings. It's just who I am. And if my parents and my boyfriend can (mostly) deal with it, so can you.

Looking back at the (really short) quiz and the types of questions it asked (and, specifically, the kinds of questions it avoided asking), the sweeping conclusion I've come up with is this: I'm not a hardcore feminist. Instead, I'm a libertarian feminist.

If you, the reader, are lost, don't worry. I'm a little lost, too. Allow me to pull back for a second and shift perspectives here. Just as my four years here in Seattle made me think I'm not much of a feminist, my four years here in Seattle have made me think that I'm not much of a Democrat, either.

I was raised by Democrats. Loyal ones. And, since we all hailed from Arkansas, my household went absolutely apesh*t with glee when a former Governor of Arkansas was elected (twice!) to the presidency. I did. Mom did. Dad did. My sister did. Granted, not all of us (myself in particular) were thrilled with every aspect of his eight years in the White House, but I hear the same is true for most Republicans who worshipped President Reagan or our current President Bush. Such is political life. So, despite occasional setbacks, I always considered myself a Democrat (in some variety) during my youth in Illinois.

But, when I moved to Seattle just over four years ago, I began to realize that I'm not much of a Democrat... just like I'm not much of a feminist.

Maybe I'm getting old. Or maybe it's the divisive stance of Washington State politics. Or maybe it's the particularly hard leftwing swing of Seattle. But, here, I'm a horrible Democrat.

Well, perhaps not "horrible." There are, after all, many Democrat-oriented political, economic, and social views I harbor. I recycle, oppose drilling for oil in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, and support the notion of a living wage. I believe in the separation of church and state, vehemently support freedom of religion, and in principle support unionization. I find blind patriotism dangerous. I shudder when President Bush (incorrectly) states that he took an "oath to protect the American people" (and instead remind anyone around that his oath was to protect the federal Constitution). I oppose moves to criminalize flag burning, and think gay men and lesbians (there I go again!) should be allowed to serve openly in any branch of the armed forces.

But, I'm told by many Seattlites that some of my political views are "anything but Democratic." In principle, I support free, fair trade. I'm knee-jerk suspicious of the federal government. I believe "market forces" can be just as affective as government action, given the right circumstances. I oppose all forms of gerrymandering and support amendments to the federal Constitution to abolish the Electoral College. I support states' rights, sometimes even at the expense of a "strong federal government." I support Israel's right to exist within a minimal secure territory consisting of its pre-1967 de facto borders. I support, in principle, the opinion that America's "worst export" is our system of government. I believe my state should institute a progressive income tax and either slash or eliminate both its sales and "B & O" taxes. I want the federal government to institute a huge, significant tax on oil and gasoline to slow consumption and encourage market-based fuel and energy alternatives.

Since most Democrats I've met in Seattle oppose many of the above statements, and more (let's not get me started on drug policy or official languages, okay?), I've slowly, gradually, come to terms with the fact that I'm not much of a Democrat. I used to think I was, but the Pacific Northwest has told me otherwise. Panic-striken at first, I feared I was instead a Republican. But, since I support things like gay rights (obviously), I'm not a Republican. My boyfriend has heard much of this. We began to date within a year of my moving to Seattle, and we actually knew one another in my last year of college, so he's seen most of this political evolution, and we've discussed this apparent shift in my political label extensively. I use the phrase "shift in my political label" rather than "shift in my political beliefs" because, for the most part, my political beliefs themselves have changed little since moving to Seattle. But, my perception of where I "sit" in the political spectrum has shifted dramatically since moving to Seattle. I used to think I was a loyal Democrat, but now I think I fall more into a grey area... something more like a political "independent" or... *gulp* a libertarian.

I first became familiar with the term libertarian in college. Of course, back in Illinois, I knew there was such a thing as the "Libertarian Party," but I had little idea what they stood for. Hear and there, on TV or from election flyers distributed in grocery store parking lots, I caught glimpses... and these glimpses made me think that the Libertarian Party wanted to eliminate all government. I remember thinking such a notion was absurd, and couldn't quite wrap my head around this political philosophy. Once, when I was 15 or 16, I passed a woman demonstrating on the streets of Chicago for the Libertarian cause, and she asked me as I passed, "Don't you think there's too much government in your life?!"

She became a little peeved when I mumbled "No..." and scurried off. She obviously didn't understand that, being an awkward and ugly 15 or 16 year-old, I wanted massive government funding for medical research to end all the ill-effects of male puberty, including severe acne, growth spurts, voice cracking, inopportune erections, general awkwardness, emotional volatility, and sex dreams about men. (At the time, I'd failed to connect the "sex dreams about men" part with "homosexuality." I'm not that smart, after all.)

But, after surviving the hell of male puberty, going to college much later, and then moving to Seattle, I've been unofficially ejected from the core of Seattle Democrats because I've a little bit of "libertarianism" in me. I believe strongly in a preference for personal choice, and have found more than a few instances where I'm wary of government intervention in my life (or your life) or market forces. Fortunately for my "proud Democrat" mother, I've never been fully tempted by the offerings of any state's Libertarian Party; they still seem to go too far towards the "minimal government" spectrum for me. Thus far, "pro-business" Democrats (like my Governor and junior Senator) inspire much more enthusiasm in my breast than what I'd call "nanny state" Democrats (like my Mayor, who is much-loved in Seattle).

Thus, I guess if I want less government intervention and more personal choice, the fact that this quiz labeled me a 100% feminist shouldn't come as much of a surprise. The quiz, after all, largely asked questions regarding personal choice. Should I want a woman to be economically and socially independent from a man? Sure! I want the same for myself! Should a woman be able to choose any path or profession in her life? Sure! I want that choice, too!

I guess my (perhaps naïve) faith in the power of universal personal choice is what might make me a "100% feminist." Not my spelling of words, the use of terms like "Mrs." or "lesbian," or my belief in the power of urinals, but my supreme value of personal choice, and the awesome responsibilities that come with it.

It may not make me a very good Seattle feminist, or a very good Seattle Democrat, but it does make me free.

In Memoriam

Say it ain't so!