Martha's Vineyard

I got Thelma & Louise'ed

2007-10-04T15:27:00.000-05:00

You know what this blog is missing?

A good rant. That's what.

Thank you to KH for passing along so many lovely examples of blogs/online postings where people can rant about a specific event or asshole. You have given me such inspiration.

So, here it goes...

To the 45-50 year old, ugly, fat, bald man driving a 1989 red Chevy Cavalier westbound on I-84 yesterday at about 5:15pm near W. Hartford...FUCK YOU!!! You know, I had been thinking to myself that day...."What I really need now is for some strange man to nearly run me off the road as he tongues suggestively at me from his piece-of-shit car." God must have heard my request, because along you came. What I really appreciated was that with one vulgar, sexually objectifying behavior, you allowed me to fulfill my girlhood dream of re-enacting the scene from the movie Thelma & Louise where T & L get harassed by a trucker. Luckily for you, I did not write down your license plate. Otherwise, I'd be desperately trying to track you down so that I could put an explosive device in your car to get even. As T & L demonstrate, payback's a bitch.

In case you didn't notice my reaction because you were too distracted by your own tongue and concentrating too hard on making said tongue lick at me like you had your head between my thighs (you wish), I flipped you off. I also yelled "FUCK YOU." Just wanted you to know.

Hope you didn't get in a fatal car crash on your way home last night.

Love,
Martha

More evidence for the "Man Card"

2007-08-02T12:11:00.000-05:00

In response to one of my earlier blogs entitled "What, exactly, is the "Man Card?," some of you seemed to be in disbelief that such a card exists. Well, I'm hot on the trail of more evidence that the "Man Card" does exist...

This past weekend while quenching my thirst, I had one of those random conversations with a stranger that can only happen at a bar. I was at a local watering hole and came out of the restroom to find that there was a line for the men's bathroom. No, really. There was a line for the men's bathroom---I know, I've always thought that was an urban legend. At any rate, one of the guys in line started up some conversation with me about how the picture of Nathan Hale on the wall looked like David Bowie (random, I know). After the conversation went nowhere (cuz, really...where could that conversation go?), I said..."You know, there's no one in the women's bathroom. Why don't one of you just go in there?" (It was a single bathroom, so there would be no danger of having to see other women in there.) The guy looked at me, sort of appalled, and said, "No. Then I'd have to give up my "Man Card."

This conversation leads me to believe that the "Man Card" does, in fact, exist...despite the fact that some of you have been trying to dissuade me. Of course no one handed you a card at birth (after noticing you were lucky enough to get a penis), which you tote with you in your wallet. But, the "Man Card" does seem to exist, at least proverbially speaking. Really, the idea of a "Man Card" is sort of
humorous.

But, at a deeper level, the idea is actually kind of intriguing and tells a lot about how we define masculinity. If a "Man Card" does exist, what does it indicate? Does it mean that the owner is aggressive, tough, and independent? Is he the alpha-male type who shoots first and asks questions later? According to the card above, he definitely cannot be a "metrosexual." There seems to be such a strict definition of masculinity in our society, that it would seem sort of difficult to even keep a "Man Card." What my minimal knowledge of the "Man Card" does seem to tell me, however, is that the "Man Card" is actually more useful in keeping men "in line" than in denoting who is a man and who is a woman. That is, the 2 times that I've run into references to the "Man Card" have been in situations where men tried to step outside of some masculine boundaries or parameters. The first one, if you recall, referred to taking away a guy's "Man Card" if he changed his last name when he got married, and the second one referred to a guy using a ladies' bathroom. It seems that guys are in danger of losing this precious identification if they even think about doing anything outside of modern definitions of masculinity. You know...like challenging patriarchal customs or entering spaces reserved for or dominated by women. Really, you're in danger of losing the "Man Card" whenever you do anything that remotely makes you--Gasp!--more like a woman.

Basically it seems that the "Man Card" is symbolic of things social scientists have known for awhile: social constructions of masculinity are narrow and restrictive. They probably harm men more than they help them, and in some ways, they are far more restrictive than social constructions of femininity. There doesn't seem to be a "Woman Card," and if there was one, I doubt someone would threaten to take it away if I peed in a men's bathroom. After all this mental work, I guess I've realized that the "Man Card" may not be that powerful after all. Sure, it's handy when you try to get jobs and earn a living and run for public office and get married, etc., etc., but it seems to just be another social mechanism to keep you confined to very narrow ideas of what it means to be a man. Besides, even if I could get a "Man Card," I'm not sure I would even want one. If all it takes is me going into the opposite-sex's restroom when there's a line for mine to get it revoked, then maybe the "Man Card" isn't all it's cracked up to be after all. But, then again, I think I knew that all along.

The addiction

2007-07-13T07:40:00.000-05:00

Someone recently asked me if I have any vices. I didn't really know how to respond to that question, because I've always been the straight-laced type and don't really have any major habits that could be considered maladaptive. I don't really gamble, save the occasional grad student poker night. I'm not addicted to crack. I drink in moderation (ok, except when I'm in WI). I don't have any weird sexual compulsions...or at least, I don't think they're weird. So, really, I'm kind of boring in the vices category. I think I responded by saying "sweets," because I will do some serious damage to anything that has sugar. I mean, I won't even buy sweets half the time because I'll just inhale them in one sitting and then have to feel guilty about it later. But, frankly, that's a pretty lame vice.

But, yesterday, I figured out what mine is: knowledge. No, really...hear me out. I think I'm addicted to knowledge.

I've always been the smarty-pants type, but I don't necessarily think that just because you're smart you also have a potential addiction to knowledge. There are lots of people who are objectively intelligent and capable but who just don't give a damn about learning new things or seeking out new information. And there are others who may not exactly be grade curve-breakers, but who have a genuine thirst for knowledge. But recently, I realized that I'm addicted to knowledge. I just can't get enough.

I realized that I might be an addict because I realized I might go crazy if I didn't have access to new ideas. Like drugs, I constantly want to have access to the newest, "designer" ideas. New ideas and knowledge give me an instant high...they make me
want to get more of it, to revel in the feeling it gives me, and to always know where my next new ideas are going to come from. I love the idea that there is theoretically no limit to the new ideas or knowledge I could acquire...that there is an endless source and that I will never run out.

Maybe I get such a high from ideas because of the idea that "knowledge is power." The more you know, the better able you are to navigate through a lot of different situations in life, from handling the car mechanics' jargon to making yourself independently wealthy through smart investing. You can communicate with a wider
variety of people, from different backgrounds and different cultures. You can do any number of things with lots of knowledge, and I like that. I like that my options are unlimited.

Knowledge is also something that can never be taken away, save brain damage or the onset of dementia. The house may burn down, you may lose your shirt in the stock market. Your spouse might leave you, your friends might hate you. But knowledge will always be there, even if you don't want it to be. It's like the BFF you never had. Knowledge is also a way to invest in oneself, to cultivate your skills. To my best estimate, my brain and the knowledge it holds is worth about $200K right now, between 4 years of undergrad and going on 5 years of grad school. That's a pretty pricey habit if you ask me. But, on the flip side, the lifetime earning power of my brain is quite huge...perhaps a conservative estimate would be somewhere around $2M, not including inflation and interest. :) So, maybe this addiction will pay off in the end...

The best part of my addiction is that it's not illegal. It doesn't have any major health side effects, short of developing a fat ass, sitting at my computer or reading books. The only major negative side effect of my habit might be psychological distress. Ignorance really is bliss, people. Although knowledge gives me a sweet, sweet high, it can also enrage and depress me. Once you start to strip away life's assumptions and facades, it can be a very bleak existence. But, luckily I have a strong dose of optimism and pure naivety to keep me sane.

So, there it is. I've bared my soul. I'm an addict. Some people self-medicate. Some cut. Some have risky hobbies or taboo compulsions. Unfortunately, my addiction is a bit less interesting. Quite frankly, it's totally nerdy. But, I like it, and it can't get me arrested. At least not yet...

Bride bullet, dodged

2007-07-07T20:46:00.000-05:00

This may come as a shock to some of you, but today Ms. Martha was supposed to become Mrs. Martha. Yes, the plan was for this blogster to be wed in holy matrimony on this, what the experts are calling the "biggest wedding day ever." 7-7-07 was supposed to be a particularly lucky day for so many couples in love--with up to 4 times as many weddings happening on this weekend than there were just one year ago.

So, I've had a lot of time to anticipate this day. I really didn't know what to expect. Part of me thought that I would feel fine...that today wouldn't be any different than any other day. But part of me feared that I might be curled up in the fetal position with a pint of Ben and Jerry's. Fortunately, I haven't had the urge to rock in any corners or binge on sweets or cry as I page through Brides magazine. In fact, I've been just fine. However, I didn't want this day to pass without spending some time thinking about what I've learned during the last 10 months of my life...the amount of time that I've been un-engaged and have been navigating singlehood, recovering from a major break-up, and figuring out what the hell all of it means.

So, here are the bullet points:

Perfect rarely is.
For much of my life, I have tried make things perfect. I have always made lists in order to cross things off of them. I have always wanted things to be neat, organized, preferably with labels on them, in their place. So, inevitably, I tried to make my relationship with my ex perfect, too. To most people, my relationship seemed perfect, but it wasn't (and I didn't correct them). I was going to have a perfect wedding on a perfect day in a perfect dress with a seemingly perfect guy. But, somewhere along the way, I realized that I didn't have perfection and, most importantly, I didn't WANT perfection. I don't think that there's anything inherently wrong with the drive to achieve perfection, but I've come to realize that a) perfection is not really all it's cracked up to be, and b) perfection is not an attribute that should apply to relationships (or people, for that matter). It's not that I think that perfection is bad, necessarily. It's that I see it as boring. I've realized that imperfections can be some of the most beautiful things. Imperfections give things character, they signal uniqueness, and they let you know that it's REAL. I don't want a cookie-cutter life with a perfect house and perfect spouse and perfect kids in a perfect neighborhood...because it doesn't exist. I want things that are real, and I want the imperfections that go along with them. To think that things in life are black and white, that they can be labeled or classified, is silly. Life is complex, it is messy, and I've realized that there is tremendous beauty in the gray, the irregular, the imperfect.

At the end of the day, it's just you.
This realization is the most cynical on this list, but I believe that it's true. I think that the relationships that we share with the people in our lives are extraordinarily important and should be valued as such. I am constantly inspired, humbled, and fulfilled by the relationships I have with friends and family in my life. With that said, however, I also think that--at the end of the day--you need to be content with who you are and what your life means, without relying on your relationships with others. Ending a 6-year relationship--in which I had built a life and dreams for the future with this person--was nothing short of earth-shattering. With one decision, I effectively threw out most of my worldviews and ideas about how life (or at least relationships) works. I have never felt so alone as I have in becoming un-engaged, and this experience has taught me that, ultimately, you are alone in the world. Although this realization is tremendously scary, I think it has also enhanced my perspective on life. In realizing that I am (ultimately) alone in the world, it makes me value the love, intimacy, and support I share with my friends and family more so.

Scare yourself.
I've always loved the quote from Eleanor Roosevelt, "Do one thing every day that scares you," and becoming un-engaged has been the scariest thing I've ever done...by far. If you live in the proverbial comfort zone of life every day, you never get the chance to amaze yourself. If you never push yourself just a bit beyond your capabilities, you will never grow. These are certainly reasons to scare yourself every once in a while. However, I've always thought that you must experience the lowest lows in order to truly appreciate the highest highs. I would certainly rather be happy than sad, fulfilled than unfulfilled...so would most of us. But, I think that to truly appreciate the good things in your life, you need to also experience some of the bad. Although tremendously painful, I have grown and experienced new parts of myself and of life...things that I would have never felt had I not become un-engaged. So, although this decision has caused tremendous pain, it has also created the opportunity for tremendous growth and happiness...not to mention avoiding the potential misery I could have endured being married.

Relationships are living organisms.
Somewhat related to the idea that perfection is overrated, I have also realized a lot about the nature of relationships. Namely, I have come to recognize the importance of treating a relationship like you would any other human being. Relationships are living, breathing organisms and need to be treated as such. They need your attention and love. They need to be challenged. They have a life of their own. They will always change, and you shouldn't try to restrict them. I did my best to create a relationship that could flourish, but I do realize, in hindsight, that I didn't always treat it as a living organism.

Wedding hoopla is ridiculous.
I had a ring, a dress, a cake, a DJ, a church, a reception site, save-the-date cards, and an obnoxiously cute page on www.theknot.com. Having been through about 75% of the planning of a wedding, I can honestly say that it is highly overrated. Is it important to celebrate love and commitment? Yes. Is it important that you blow $20,000+ on one day? No. There is a whole lot of bullshit that surrounds weddings, and I am glad to not be a part of it any longer. If I had it to do all over again, many things would change. The biggest of these changes would probably be a no engagement ring policy. Unless one of you has sentimental heirloom jewelry that has been passed down through the generations, they are a waste of money. Blowing 12K on a ring is stupid. And, there is the obvious feminist objection to an engagement ring: the ring symbolizes that the man has effectively "purchased" the right to marry a woman. No matter how you cut it, there are a lot of ridiculous traditions and customs we do in order to get married, but most of them are optional. Considering that most couples don't really enjoy their wedding day and most of the traditions are for show or are done simply because "that's how we've always done it," people might be happier if they took a more non-traditional approach to marriage.

So, there you have it folks. Had I not overhauled my life, I'd probably be leading the Electric Slide (because I would totally be that bride who's out on the dance floor the entire night), drinking a beer, rocking out in a big white dress, newly hitched right now. Maybe it wouldn't have been all that bad after all. But, most likely, it would have. I had a fulfilling relationship for 6 years, commited myself to someone in an authentic and meaningful way, and learned what it meant to love someone completely. But, I've also learned more about myself and about life in the last 10 months than I probably could have any other way. And I'm not sad about that one bit.

So, at least for now, the bride bullet has been dodged...

Case closed

2007-06-21T20:21:00.001-05:00

Finally!!!

Wanda Sykes has come up with one of the most brilliant solutions to cure many of women's toughest problems: the detachable pussy. Feminists' lives just got a whole lot easier...

Respect knuckles?!

2007-06-09T09:13:00.000-05:00

Uh, I guess even old white guys (who just so happen to be major world powers) like to give respect knuckles. Right on!

Alaska...fuck yeah! Part 3

2007-05-01T23:42:00.000-05:00

“There’s a land where the mountains are nameless, and the rivers all run God knows where, there are lives that are erring and aimless. And deaths that just hang by a hair, there are hardships that nobody reckons; there are valleys unpeopled and still. There’s a land-oh it beckons and beckons, and I want to go back and I will.”
~~Robert Service

There's something about this place that gets in people's blood. It makes them never want to leave, and if they do, it makes them want to come back. At least that's what everyone I've met has been telling me. There's no doubt in my mind that I will make it back to AK...it's just a matter of time. Oh yes, I will be back.

Although I consider myself to be a fairly articulate person in describing what I think and feel, I just can't explain what, exactly, it is about AK that makes people never want to leave. I guess there's just a feeling you get when you're here. It's part awe at the unbelievable landscape. It's part relaxation in the midst of people who adhere to a relatively simple lifestyle. It's part disbelief that you're actually here...in this place that seems nothing like the rest of the lower 48--it seems like I should need my passport to get here. It's part humility in realizing that nature and the world are so much bigger than oneself. And the rest is something that is perhaps unknowable.

My friend B has been such a good sport at putting up with my touristy desire to take a picture of absolutely everything. (I think I have taken 160+ pictures on this trip!) However, one thing that he said to me about pictures has stuck. On our adventures to Homer, AK, he described how one of his friends said that he had stopped taking pictures of scenery or life events because he wanted to keep them only as mental images. He wanted to rely only on his memory to capture the essence of various life moments and that pictures would pale in comparison to the richness his memory could preserve. Although I didn't really adhere to this sentiment on my trip, this idea has stuck with me. As I look back on my pictures from this trip, I realize that no picture (no matter how many megapixels it has) can capture the feeling I had in each of those moments. Sure, the picture can capture it as a reference point to jog my memory in the future, but I don't want to rely on the megapixels to recreate the moments I've had in AK. There will never be a way to recreate these moments, these overwhelming feelings of awe, joy, and serenity. There is no way to recreate the feeling of wind and sun on my face 2,000 ft up a mountain, the sounds of nature in the dead of night (or of the horse galloping around our tent!), or the smell of trees or melting snow in AK. Perhaps I shouldn't even try; to do so would cheapen them. Instead, maybe I can relive these moments from time to time...relive a little of AK in my daily life. I have no doubt that there's a little AK in my blood now, and it's only a matter of time before it calls me back...

Alaska...fuck yeah!

Alaska...fuck yeah! Part 2

2007-05-01T12:49:00.000-05:00

My Alaska trip has also been a spiritual awakening because it has been a source of inspiration...a force that has made me contemplate my own life in some new and unique ways. The zeitgeist of this trip has been the idea of "living in community" and cultivating the people around me and the relationships I have with them. All aspects of this trip have highlighted the beauty of relationships and how fulfilling they can be in my life.

I started thinking about the idea of community during the flight out to AK because I brought a book to read called "Faith and feminism: A holy alliance." This book uses the lives of 5 feminist women of faith to demonstrate how religious faith and feminism are not at odds with each other, contrary to what many people think. Rather, the book concludes, "religion and feminism are different expressions of the same impulse toward making life more just and whole." A core component of achieving "wholeness" in one's life is to be in relationships with others. Just as money is the currency of our economy, relationships are the currency of peace and overall well-being in our lives. This is such a simple conclusion, but one that is somewhat difficult to implement, I think. In my own life, I think that the academic lifestyle has pulled me from a more community- and relationship-oriented lifestyle to one in which I focus on my own achievements, my own well-being...at the expense of thinking of others. On the one hand, my natural inclination is to be relationship-oriented because I have experienced such a sense of purpose and inspiration in my relationships with the many amazing people in my life. However, on the other hand, given my view that relational interdependence contributes to the perpetuation of sexism and inequality in the world [there will be more on this later, I'm sure], I struggle with finding the appropriate balance between being relationally-oriented while also being objective about how this relational interdependence may serve to disadvantage myself and all women. What this book makes clear, however, is that both my faith and my feminist views call me to exist in community with others...to enhance myself and the well-being of those in the world around me by cultivating the relationships in my life.

I have sensed the power of relationships and being in community with others in many aspects of my time in AK. My talk and the discussions that ensued at the University of Alaska were nothing short of inspiring. One of the things I love most about academics is the power of ideas to bring people together. The excitement and generosity of the UAA faculty and students was palpable and they renewed my excitement for my own work, for collaborating with others, and for connecting with others over ideas.

A powerful source of inspiration has also been in witnessing my friend B and his group of friends in Anchorage. B moved to Anchorage after we graduated college so that he could complete the Jesuit Volunteer Corps (like Americorps, but with a spiritual component). As a JV, he lived in community with other volunteers for a year, while he served as a social worker at a local shelter offering services for the homeless (www.beanscafe.org). He is a living example of how choosing to live in community with others--and be intimately connected with all people of one's community--can be a life-changing experience. There is a sense of authenticity, peace, and purpose in B and his friends that you cannot help but notice and be drawn to. I am so lucky to have B in my life because he is not only a great friend, but he is also a source of inspiration. Although I may not choose to dedicate myself to service and community in the same way as he has, I can certainly implement pieces of his life and purpose into my own. His life is inspiring to me, but his friendship is also inspiring. Our friendship is a perfect example of how we can continue to connect in completely different contexts and phases of our life. We first connected as involved members of our college community, but most of our interactions involved sharing beer, study sessions, and the occasional insight about life. But now, although the Franzia and beer are gone (for the most part) and we live very different lives, we can continue to connect on multiple levels and about a variety of topics because we view our friendship as having a life of its own. Our friendship is a living entity of sorts...it is malleable, but needs some cultivation from time to time. We may live totally different lives now, but I love that we can re-connect so many years later and have it feel as though no time has passed. I cherish this friendship, and it inspires me to cultivate other relationships in my life even more.

Alaska...fuck yeah!

Alaska...fuck yeah! Part 1

2007-04-30T23:04:00.000-05:00

I currently find myself in the midst of some exotic travels. This time, my itinerary has taken me to the last frontier of America...Alaska. The home of the forget-me-not, king crab, and glorious mountain ranges as far as the eye can see.

I knew that my trip to Alaska would be a spiritual awakening of sorts, but I never realized on how many levels or in how many domains it would occur. I feel as though this trip has been a part of a divine master plan from the beginning. The University of Alaska-Anchorage asked me to speak at their undergraduate research conference about the research that our lab does on self-objectification (although, this was *after* my advisor declined the invitation...but who's counting?). This invitation came only a month after my good friend B notified me that he would be leaving Anchorage (he's lived there since we graduated college) in mid-May to move to Seattle and that I should make every attempt to come visit Alaska before then. So, it was perfect timing that the UAA offer would allow me to travel to AK to see my friend before he left for the lower 48.

So, first things first. In true Martha fashion, I have decided on a quote to describe my travels. I have decided that the following quote (adapted from the movie Team America) best explains how I feel about everything I have been doing in AK: "Alaska...fuck yeah! Coming again to save the motherfucking day...yeah!" As my friend B will tell you, I have said it non-stop since I got here. You just can't help but be in awe of the landscape here, of the lifestyle, of the fact that this is such a precious jewel in our country.

The first part of my spiritual awakening in AK has been in being completely humbled by the physical beauty of this state. You cannot help but be acutely aware that the world is so much bigger than just oneself when you are dwarfed by gigantic, rugged, powerful mountains on all sides. Here it seems that the mountains take on a life and personality of their own. They are complex and seemingly unknowable--they are snow-capped, yet support plant life near the base. They are complex and multi-faceted with so many crevasses that no human could ever know them all. They are majestic and beautiful...perhaps most so at night when they glow against the horizon. There are dramatic cliffs that lead down to vivid blue water. Everywhere you turn, there is another example of the beauty that nature creates--a beauty that humankind just cannot replicate on its own. Just when you think you can't see another breath-taking image or that mother nature just cannot out-do herself--bam!...you see yet another amazing view. At several points in my travels, I have literally been surrounded by mountains on all sides, where it seems that I might never see flat land again. I simply cannot put into words the power of these views. If God has ever been present on land, it is in these views.

Alaska...fuck yeah!

You sunk my battleship

2007-04-15T21:01:00.000-05:00

I guess that I just have this overwhelming tendency to see aspects of life in terms of metaphor.

It seems that a recent reoccurring metaphor in my life has been viewing dating and relationships in terms of a strategic series of maneuvers, similar to those involved in the game Battleship. You know the game--your job is to sink enemy ships by calling out the coordinates where you think your opponent's ships are located. You need to bomb strategically in order to be as efficient as possible in winning the game.

We each come to the game of dating with a battleship. Some of us have battleships that are on their maiden voyage--new and healthy but somewhat naive to the waters ahead of them. Others have battleships that have logged many miles and have considerable experience, but which have suffered damage or are in various states of disarray from their travels (read: relationship baggage). Regardless of whether they're brand new vessels or veterans, we all hope that we have ships that are sturdy enough to weather the potentially rough seas ahead.

So, assuming that our ships are at sea and are trolling for action, so to speak, we each come prepared with some general ideas of how best to play the game. Regardless of whether these are intuitions, rules of thumb, or just plain trial and error, we all have some strategy that we think will help us stay afloat. When we play the game of Battleship, we each certainly have a strategy that we think will help to sink our opponent's ship--whether that be the random selection of coordinates or a more deliberate attack. I never really thought about my own strategies until someone recently asked me what my "tricks" are in dating. He wanted to know if there are things that I do consciously to make my likelihood of success greater, whether that be protecting my own battleship or maneuvering into another's territory. I hadn't really considered how we each come with strategies for where we want to take our ships and how we decide when to sail in tandem with another vessel or even throw out our anchor to stop and enjoy the scenery for awhile. This made me think about how the strategies we use are so important and seem to be so pivotal for the outcome of our dating life. Some of us are flawless strategists--we always have our poker face on and are concerned with protecting our ship from attack. However, others of us may be good strategists, but we focus on gaining access to peaceful waters rather than protecting the ship at all costs. Still, others have less refined strategies and just go where the water takes us, perhaps making us more vulnerable. It seems then, that it *is* important to be able to read your opponent and understand his/her strategies. Perhaps it's necessary to find the opponent whose strategy matches or complements one's own in order to find success.

An important question arises, however, in the battleship game of dating--What are we battling over? I've found that a lot of the problems in executing effective dating strategy arise when the players either a) simply don't know what they're playing for or b) have different ideas of what they're playing for. Maybe you think you're playing the casual dating game where you want to meet interesting people and have fun, but your opponent thinks you're playing for keeps, playing to link your ships and sail the seas together. If there's a discrepancy between what you and your opponent are playing for, there will certainly be a discrepancy in what each of you are willing to bring to the table. And that means that one person will inevitably be more vulnerable to attack.

Even when we're on the same page about what it is that we're playing for--for most of us, that's probably our heart--it takes a lot of maneuvering to make things happen. In my experience, I feel like relationships are this constant assessment of your vulnerabilities and investment in the relationship relative to the other player. We want to be engaged in the relationship, but not *too* into it. We want to share ourselves with others, but we fear that we'll give away too much and we'll be vulnerable to an attack on our hearts. I'll admit it--it's fucking *scary* to navigate in unfamiliar relationship waters. We all fear that our ship will suffer damage. Sometimes it takes docking in the harbor of singlehood in order to repair from rough relationship waters, but I certainly fear that I could suffer damage that I may not ever be able to repair.

So, it seems that I have a lot of choice in all this. I can keep my ship in the safety of the harbor, knowing that it will remain strong but will never experience the freedom of the open sea and the comfort of finding a ship to share in its voyages. Or, I can venture out into unfamiliar waters and risk being attacked. I guess I just have to trust my navigational skills, know that my ship (I've named her Martha V, of course) is strong enough to stay afloat despite rough waters, and hope that I never have to hear myself say "You sunk my battleship."

There's still hope for me yet

2007-04-05T16:15:00.000-05:00

If this whole grad school thing doesn't pan out, I might consider an alternate venue for female empowerment...

Body of Christ

2007-04-05T16:12:00.000-05:00

If only we all had the dedication of our Savior...

Christ Getting In Shape For Second Coming

What, exactly, is the "Man Card"?

2007-03-28T19:37:00.000-05:00

This article discusses the "controversy" erupting over the fact that more men are opting to take women's last names when they get married. On so many levels, this "controversy" is just ridiculous. One guy who clearly doesn't like this trend is quoted as telling a guy who combined his last name with his wife's to create a new name (uh, that seems like a good compromise to me) to give back his "man card." I know you guys like to keep secrets from us (you know, for fear that we'll use it against you later), but what the hell is the "man card"? And, more importantly, where can I go to get one? It seems like it comes in pretty handy for you. Hell, I never even ended up getting married, and people were going ape-shit over the fact that I wasn't going to change my name (What?! You're not *even* going to hyphenate?). (Sigh....) What it must be like to live in a world where no one asks you to give up your identity in order to create a lifetime union with the one you love...

http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/2007-03-20-names-marriage_N.htm

Happy Women's History Month!

2007-03-14T18:23:00.000-05:00

So, March is Women's History Month. The sad part is that a whole lot of people don't know this, so I feel that it's my duty as a good feminist, woman, and human being, to do special things during March to celebrate. Last year I had the idea to celebrate the individual women in my life by writing them each cards to let them know that I think they are truly amazing. I am a firm believer that people, in general, don't do enough to connect with others on a fundamental, human level--whether that is through physical affection, kind deeds, or just simply saying "I love you" or "I think you are an amazing person." It's easy to be self-involved and forget to let others know that you give a damn about them. So, I like to take a moment (or a few hours, really), to write approximately 30 women in my life a note each year...to take a moment to celebrate them.

So, here is this year's installment. To all the kick-ass women who are out there busting their asses to make the world a better place--whether it's for themselves, their children, womankind, or all of humanity--Thank you for YOU!

March 2007

To all the fabulous women in my life:

Happy Women’s History Month!!! This is the 2^nd year that I have decided to celebrate Women’s History Month by recognizing the many strong, intelligent, and inspiring women in my life. You are receiving this note because YOU are a woman that I cherish and admire in my life. You are a woman whose life positively impacts those around you, and because of that, I celebrate YOU this month. In the chaos of my life, I may not always tell you how special you are, but I hope this note reminds you that you have made my life more rewarding by being in it. I celebrate the women in my life for their kindness and compassion, the nurturing they offer their families and friends, and their insight. I celebrate the women in my life for their talents and intellect, their leadership, their strength and courage. I celebrate the women in my life for following their dreams and nourishing the dreams of others. And I celebrate women for all they do each day to make me proud to be a woman.

In reflecting upon the vast array women in my life, I realize that I am so lucky to know so many incredible women. In the past year, the women in my life have done tremendous things. They have battled and triumphed over cancer. They have shown me the beauty of pregnancy and of bringing life into the world. They have shown me how persistence in the face of adversity can reap great rewards. They have gotten out of unhealthy or otherwise stifling relationships and have cultivated ones in which they will flourish. They have reached tremendous professional successes. They have shown me how unconditional love can give life to incredible happiness and intimacy. They have stood up for themselves and fought for justice. The women in my life have done extraordinary things in the past year, and I applaud them.

For those of you who received this card last year, you will remember that the quote on this year’s card is the same as last year’s. Although I hate to be redundant, I decided to go with this version of the card because (a) the quote is a reminder that we must not hesitate to follow our dreams and life ambitions simply because they might not conform to society’s current ideas about women’s “proper” behavior, (b) the card lists a number of amazing women who have fought to improve women’s lives or who are profound examples of the tremendous successes women can attain, and (c) the woman on this card has a “to-do” list of ambitious goals. Women’s History Month is a time to focus on women’s many accomplishments that often go unnoticed or remain inadequately documented in the annals of our history and culture. This card gives a list of some pretty amazing women who have fought injustice and have worked to do incredible things in their lives. Perhaps we can use this month to learn more about what a few of these women have done and use their stories to inspire our own lives. The “to-do” list on this card also reminds us that no goal is too lofty to attain if we so desire (e.g., fight prejudice). I know that in my own life, it is easy to get caught up in the daily “to-do” lists of household chores and groceries to buy. Perhaps tempering these daily “to-do’s” with long-term, self-fulfilling goals would be more rewarding. Ann Richards, the first female governor of Texas who died this past year has a quote that speaks well to this idea. She said, “I do not want my tombstone to read, ‘She kept a really clean house.’ I think I’d like them to remember me by saying, ‘She opened government to everyone.’” She was referring to the fact that, during her governorship, she opened the doors of government to people other than Caucasians and men. About 44 % of her appointees were female, 20 % Hispanic and 14 % black. The daily busy-work will always be there to think about, but the big goals in our lives need to take priority, too, and be included in a meaningful way on our “to-do” lists. And no goal is too unrealistic to obtain.

I celebrate YOU this month, and I hope you can take a moment to celebrate the women in your own life. Maybe you will take a moment this month to learn more about the social issues that face women today or about the struggles women have endured to gain the right to vote or to enter the workforce to support their families. Regardless of how you choose to celebrate Women’s History Month, I hope you realize the strength and ability you possess to positively impact others each day. May you always know of the strength and gifts you have to enrich your life and the lives of those around you, this month and always.

With much love,

Martha

Sorry, Mom

2007-03-10T13:13:00.000-05:00

Between learning how to text message and finally getting the Internet at her house, this has been quite a big year for my mom. I couldn't have blogged about it better...

Getting Mom Onto Internet A Sisyphean Ordeal

Future dates, FYI

2007-03-10T13:06:00.000-05:00

I hope all of my future dates take the hint....

Area Man An Expert On What Women Hate

Online dating

2007-03-08T22:18:00.000-05:00

So, I've decided to give this online dating thing a try. Plenty of my friends have tried it, many of whom have been successful at finding quality, non-psycho men who are now long-term boyfriends, life partners, and even husbands. This fact gives me hope that I, too, might find some interesting people who, at worst, might stare at me while I eat food with them and, at best, might become romantic partners whom I could share my life with. However, being naive to this whole process until now has brought me to ask some interesting questions:

First, what *can't* you do online? In a society that increasingly relies on the internet to do all sorts of things that once seemed outlandish (e.g., choose your favorite wedding package at a Sandals Resort), I wonder if there is any life activity that will remain untouched by cyberspace access. If I can buy everything I need from amazon.com, get campusfood.com to deliver me a late dinner at work, and get a college degree over the internet, I guess it seems silly for me to have to go to a bar/coffeeshop/party/etc. to meet a flesh-n-blood man.

Second, does online dating spare me any of the "hassle" of traditional dating approaches? It seems that the appeal of online dating is that it takes some of the "work" out of the whole process. You know, you don't have to go to a sweaty club and have some nasty guy hit on you or grind up on you on the dance floor (please see "gazelle" discussion in Tranny Got Pack post below for more info on this). You don't have to flirt inappropriately or make some big scene to get someone's interest. Instead, you get a bunch of pictures of strangers who apparently fit your search criteria for "the perfect match" so you can pick and choose at your leisure. But, I don't think that having access to all of these people at your fingertips really makes dating any easier. First, you've got a-holes like Dr. Phil preying on people who are lonely and can't seem to find their "someone," telling them what to do, how to do it, why they are still single, etc. What the hell does Dr. Phil know about dating, anyway? Apparently he is a clinical psychologist, but I'm pretty sure his dissertation was *not* entitled "Mind. Find. Bind.: How to find your perfect online dating match." Then, you've got all this winking crap. I don't respond well to men who wink at me in person, much less over the internet. It actually kind of creeps me out. (Although, at least this way you know the guy is actually winking at you and doesn't just have a nervous twitch or something caught in his eye!) And God forbid you have the chat option, where people can just try to chat with you whenever you're logged into the website. I might be old-fashioned, but I'll just stick with the standard emails of interest, thank you. As far as I can tell, there's still a whole lot of awkward conversation and bullshit that goes along with this whole online dating thing. Not to mention the creepy/stalker factor. Maybe that's not such an issue for men (I don't know), but if the scary 52-year-old guy holding a creepy black cat and the I'm-going-to-masturbate-to-your-picture-later look on his face winks at me one more time, I'm going to end this shit before I even really begin! (Sadly, I'm not making this up, either.)

Third, are profiles of these potential "matches" ever really accurate? I might be privy to some classified information as a social psychologist, but I'm pretty sure that everyone embellishes their profile. EVERYONE overestimates how awesome they are. If you ask a group of people to estimate the proportion of work that they did towards the completion of a group project, the sum of those proportions is ALWAYS going to be more than 100%. So, if everyone thinks they're better than they are and doing more than what they actually do, how is anyone else supposed to know if a person would be a good match based on a profile they wrote? What I also know as a social psychologist is that other people are better judges of our personalities than we are (I say this realizing that there really is no true, objective measure of one's personality). That is, 4 other people who rate me on a variety of personality characteristics will have more consistency in their observations of me than I will in estimating my own traits. What this means is that we never really know what type of person we are...at least in thinking about how others are going to perceive us. So, perhaps the best and most honest approach would be to have good friends write profiles for us.

Then there's always the issue about what to write. You have to come up with some cute, catchy title for your profile, which more times than not, is not terribly interesting. I figured out that you're basically screwed no matter what you write. If you put the standard "Hey, look at me"-type title, it seems desperate or bland. If you write something more catchy, it might come off as corney. Then it's on to your profile. Instead of filling in information for fields like "favorite things" or "interests," it might be more informative to have people complete questions like "What the fuck did you do to screw up your last relationship?," "Most annoying habit(s)," and "Relationship baggage." Yes, everyone likes to watch movies and is "laid-back"...I get it. (I'll admit, I think I wrote "easy-going" in mine...) That's not terribly informative as I wade through cyberspace bachelors. What I do want to know is the "dirt," the things that will be big, red flags to alert me to stay away and avoid wasting my time...or worse, getting my heart broken.

Fourth, do we ever really know what we want in a match? Or better yet, what we need? If everyone knew what to put in their search criteria in order to find their perfect partner, match.com would be bankrupt. I don't doubt that we know what we *want*, but these things may not necessarily be the things that we *need.* I can certainly say that my search terms would never have included some qualities and characteristics that I now know I need based on my experience with standard, old-fashioned dating. I might be a traditionalist, but I think that this at-your-fingertips list of eligible bachelors prevents us from meeting people who would probably be our best matches simply because our search terms are wrong. This approach also makes it easy to think that your perfect match can be labeled or categorized easily based on hair color, interests, or religion. I might be a "tall, dark, and handsome" kind of gal, but maybe my perfect match is short, blonde, and quite average--I might never know this if my search is too constrained. So, I've decided to take the inclusive approach...cast a wide net. But, I do have my standards. Here's what seems to make sense right now:
a) Minimum college education. Progressive, egalitarian men, tend to be educated, although I have certainly met men who prove me wrong on this assumption.
b) No more than one spelling/grammar error in the profile. If you don't know the difference between their/there, than/then or can't figure out how to use spell check, then I don't want to date you.
c) No mention of princes/princesses, white horses, chivalry, etc. Benevolent sexism is soooo last century. I know plenty of men with whom I could be barefoot & pregnant, thank you.
d) Absolutely no pictures of you with your shirt off, flexing your big biceps, or posing in front of your car.
e) If you can't think of more than 4 sentences to write about yourself, then I doubt you'll have more than that to say to me on a date.

With all of these questions in mind, all I've got to say is "It's a jungle out there." Suddenly I realize why my non-feminist friends questioned me so severely when I decided to become un-engaged...
"You DO know how hard it is out here, don't you?"

A sympathetic heart

2007-03-01T18:43:00.000-05:00

I think we can all agree that life is hard. It's not necessarily fair all the time...or any of the time. People struggle with all sorts of issues, from addiction and inadequacies to loss of loved ones and lack of resources. Sometimes we stumble upon happiness and comfort, but they are often all too fleeting.

And, a lot of my research confirms that life is, in fact, hard. (Like you or I needed a reminder...)

I have been studying the effects of concealed stigmatized identities (e.g., mental illness, drug/alcohol abuse) for several years now. I have collected survey data from several hundred undergraduate participants who generously share with us information about their identities, their experiences of revealing those identities, and how their identities have affected their lives. To say that I am humbled by some of the responses we get in these surveys is an understatement.

Reading through the responses we get in these studies is quite possibly the most depression-inducing activity I can do on any given day. People describe their concealed identity, usually at length, and these identities cover quite a considerable range. There are people with mental illness. People with weight and appearance concerns. People with abusive or otherwise dysfunctional families. People who've experienced childhood sexual abuse, or assault, or rape. People who've had a death or serious illness in their family or who have some deep dark family secret. People who've had abortions or who have committed felonies. You get the picture.

The first thing I realize when I read through these data sets is that *so many people struggle.*

The second thing I realize is that so much of our collective hurt is due to someone else's doing (e.g., rape, abuse). I'm sure that a lot of people realize that they are inflicting harm on others, but so many of us don't realize how our actions negatively affect others. We go about our individual lives and fail to see how our actions and words can affect the people around us. Sometimes we are too busy or too self-involved to see it, but everything we do and say affects other people. And as this data set indicates, what we do often hurts other people--hurts them to the point that they carry it around, hidden from our view.

The most humbling part of reading about people's experiences is that I realize that we interact with people everyday who carry around hidden identities and are hurting and we don't even know it. One of the responses that has been most unsettling to me is from someone who indicated that her hidden identity was that she was raped at a party. When asked how long she has had this identity, she listed "2 weeks." I am so completely saddened by the thought that there are so many people walking around with these experiences, these burdens, this hurt. We each probably interacted with at least one person today that has a concealed identity--something so stigmatizing or hurtful that it seems unbearable to describe to other people. I don't know about you, but if my current daily behavior is any indication of how I probably interacted with such a person, I should be ashamed. The problem with being self-focused and busy and inattentive to others (and we all are, to some extent) is that we risk being total jackasses to other people, especially to those who already have so much to struggle with. We all struggle. We all hurt. That is why it is so ironic and down right disturbing that we are so distant and unkind to one another. If we each read through a dataset such as this once a week--or just discussed in a real way with other people how we struggle or hurt--we would probably be better people, probably be more considerate of others. We might be more likely to share our burdens with others and be more likely to help others bear their burdens, too. I can't help but think that by sharing ourselves in such a way, that we might someday develop a more sympathetic collective heart. And wouldn't that be good for all of us?

Occupational hazards

2007-02-11T19:12:00.000-05:00

I may not have to stand on my feet all day or do any hard labor, but my job has it's fair share of hazards. Here are just a few:

Constantly finding social injustices to be pissed off about. People suffer. Life sucks a lot of the time. And, I think/read/write about these things almost on a daily basis.

Students. They are often such an inspiration. However, sometimes they are just beasts when they complain about doing work or having to take notes for themselves ("what?! you're not going to spoon-feed me everything I need to know?") or when you call them out on cheating/plagiarism or when you give them anything less than an A.

Intra- (or inter-) departmental drama. So-and-so is sleeping with/dating so-and-so and everyone thinks they need to know/talk about it.

Paper-cuts. (Hey, they hurt.)

Food from the Blue Truck. Beware! (the taco salad got me one too many times...)

A fat ass. Academics are not known to be the svelte fitness-savvy professionals that are often found in other professions. (How many hot professors can you think of?) You sit on your ass all day writing/reading/analyzing data/etc. and that leaves very little time to do anything physical. Weight gain is a definite likelihood without targeted interventions.

Advisor(s)/professors constantly harassing you about what you have/haven't done.

Socially inept or otherwise anti-social academic colleagues. If you're here, you're a nerd. And, most nerds aren't particularly good at things like forming complete/coherent sentences, shooting the shit, or making you feel even remotely comfortable in social situations.

Staring at a computer for 12+ hours a day until you can barely see.

Constant negative feedback. Scientists are trained to find the holes or flaws in everything they see, so positive feedback is often few and far between. The challenge is to find people who temper their critiques with some positive reinforcement as well. This hazard can be particularly painful since most people consider their work (i.e., papers/ideas/presentations/etc.) to be a part of themselves. So, when you get negative feedback, it's not like someone's saying "hey you, the widgets you're producing aren't up to par." Instead, it's like they're saying "your ideas suck; therefore, you are a worthless piece of shit. Try not being a complete moron and waste of space next time." Ok, this might be a bit dramatic, but that's at least how it feels sometimes.

Objectify this!

2007-02-07T11:29:00.000-05:00

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then I might go over my limit on this one...

I've realized that one of the "occupational hazards" of my line of work (there are definitely more--maybe that will be material for another post) is that I am continually finding things to be pissed off about. God, sometimes I wish I could just hide my head in the sand somewhere and not find yet another instance of blatant objectification (and subordination) of women. So, I'm sitting her today putting together a lecture on sexual objectification/self-objectification (one of my main research/life interests) to give to a friend's class tomorrow, and I run across this photo. I'm relatively immune to the negative reactions that might be induced by mainstream objectifying media images by now--you know, where women are portrayed as objects, as passive recipients of others' actions, of selling yet another bottle of beer, a sports car, or anything that plays into men's (and often women's) fantasies. But, this one caught me by surprise. And now I'm pissed.

I don't claim to be an expert at deciphering or analyzing media images, but here's what a strong feminist critique might start with (or what anyone with half a brain might think, for that matter):

1) Why is the man fully clothed and the woman naked (for all practical purposes)? Wearing a suit on a beach is not going to happen, unless Bank of America has suddenly decided to have it's annual management conference on the beach in Cancun. Instead, the man is dressed in a suit to convey that he's in power. This photo would still be demeaning even if she was fully dressed, but her nakedness (compared to his attire) implies that she is his sexual plaything.

2) What does his posture say about what's going on in this situation? Is he asking, "Hey lady, please have a drink with me?" No. Instead, he is dominating her with his pose. His posture says "I'm in power. Now have a martini and I'm going to bang you."

P.S. Her tits aren't real. Normal breasts would be over near the armpit area, not standing at attention like perfectly shaped orbs. Real fat (not silicone) is movable and is subject to gravitational pull (sorry, guys--it's a dead giveaway).

In a very real way, this picture sends a strong message about gender relations. I would just like to say for the record that I am fucking sick and tired of being bombarded with messages that tell me that, as a woman, I am here for men's enjoyment. I am sick of being told via print media, TV, movies, music and social interactions that my value lies in my body--what it looks like and what kind of pleasure it can give to men. Why can't these a-holes just sell me a goddamn bottle of vodka without legitimizing female subordination and violence against women? Do you think that people looking at this ad don't internalize these male-female dynamics? Do you think that after repeatedly seeing images and listening to music (Ex: Akon & Eminem's song called "Smack that"--about smacking women's asses in the club and how much we llloooooovvvveeee it; seriously, listen to the lyrics once--it's highly disturbing) that portray women as sex objects that men don't start looking at women that way and that women don't start thinking that this is what they should expect from men? Wake the fuck up.

Perhaps some think that I overreact to this type of blatant objectification of women. Well, I'm not apologizing to anyone. This type of image implicitly tells men that it's ok to see women as sex objects. This type of thinking is what leads to rape/sexual assault because men stop seeing women as whole, autonomous human beings with feelings and intellect; instead, they only see T & A and assume that it's there whenever, wherever they want it. Women are no longer people; they are only objects. This is also a major factor in what leads men to think that they should be able to "accidentally" touch your ass/tits in a crowded bar, or sexually harass you, or give you cat-calls, or "eye-fuck" you. Are all men this way? No. But, these images legitimize many male behaviors that sexually objectify women. This type of thinking is what also leads women to think that their body is all they have to offer people, that they shouldn't worry about being strong, independent, educated people because their worth lies in how their body looks to others and how they can use their bodies and sexuality to get the "stuff" that their subordinated status often precludes them from having.

Sexual objectification is bad for everyone. This bullshit happens everyday and we don’t even recognize it. Where else is it lurking in your life right now?

What you leave behind

2006-12-20T22:14:00.000-05:00

I will preface this entry by saying that it deviates a bit from the tone of earlier posts, given that the content of this blog so far has been relatively light: a strange obsession with books, adventures in tranny-land, and kind words about a bunny. However, I figure it's too early to commit myself to a particular type of "content" for this blog, so we'll just see where it takes me (and us)....

Today I have been considering the things we leave behind after we die. Sorry to say it, folks, but we're all gonna die. Take a moment to get over that, and then keep reading. I'll wait...

So, I've been thinking about what will happen to the things we leave behind after we die. No, I'm not completely morbid--I don't sit around and consider the after-effects of death on a regular basis. This line of thinking was prompted by my travels home for the holidays. My grandfather passed away over a year ago, and each time I go home my family continues the long and arduous process of dividing his possessions between his widow, children, and grand-children. The struggle lies in how to best honor his life through the tangible things he has left behind. Some things are thrown away or donated, but what remains are those possessions that the rest of us think are valuable or otherwise important. There are artifacts he collected during his WWII tour of duty and from his days as a semi-pro baseball player. In his later years, my grandfather became an artist, and there are paintings and carvings of his that have been divided among the family. This divvying up of his possessions is an important part of the grieving process. However, I think this process is also ripe for reflection about what we can learn about living in thinking about what we will leave behind in death.

The Tangibles vs. Intangibles

So, when we die, we leave things behind. But what most of us consider when we think about our worldly possessions are the tangibles, the concrete things that will clutter someone else’s home after we die. This might be one’s jewelry or baseball card collection or other things society deems to be “valuables,” primarily based on their monetary value. Sometimes these “valuables” are important to those who care about us not because of their monetary value but because they carry some emotional meaning or memory that those who survive us would like to hold on to. Because I’m relatively young and have not accumulated many of these “valuables” to pass along to my survivors, it can be somewhat unnerving to think about how little stuff I have to leave to others. Maybe someone would want my iPod or laptop, my skis or golf clubs, my books or pictures, my furniture. I certainly don’t have a hefty savings account or real estate to pass along to my successors. So, the family and friends who survive me would get pretty screwed if I die sooner than later because I have less stuff to give them.

But, I feel a bit better if, instead, I think about the intangibles I will leave after I die. By intangibles, I refer to the aspects of myself and my life that people identify as belonging to me. These intangibles might be my beliefs, personality characteristics, actions, ideologies, and ideas that people attribute to me. Generally, it seems that intangibles are not bound by medium; they are usually things that one cannot touch or quantify. Instead, they are things that other people must carry with them as thoughts or action potentials in order for these intangibles to matter. Generally, intangibles’ affect on others is determined by how these people change their lives in some way (no matter how small) because of you. Because these things are often not easily quantifiable or tangible, they may seem fleeting or too abstract to conceptualize. It’s certainly easier to think about how someone might use my iPod after I die than it is for me to consider how people might change their lives based on me being a feminist. But, if we can get over this challenge of defining or conceptualizing what it is that we are (this part certainly isn’t easy) and the aspects of ourselves that might impact others, I think that contemplating how my intangibles will be passed on in death is by far more interesting and rewarding than any crappy CD collection I have to give.

The value of really considering these intangibles, I think, lies in how acknowledging that we each have intangibles to give to others can also cause us to live life differently and perhaps in a more meaningful manner. If I consider the tangible stuff I might leave when I die, maybe I’ll work harder to earn more money to accumulate the stuff I think others might like. Maybe I’ll make wiser investment decisions. Maybe I’ll make sure to buy the really nice stuff rather than the cheap stuff. However, if I consider the intangibles that I will leave when I die, I might be more intentional and thoughtful about what it is that I and my life represent. Instead of worrying about the stuff, I might worry about what people learn from me, how my presence affects people for better or for worse, and what my legacy might be. And if I think more about the effect of my intangibles upon other people, I might also consider how others’ intangibles affect me. Maybe I’ll be a better person, a more appreciative person, a more grounded person. At best, maybe thinking about the intangibles will give me a greater sense of purpose, a greater sense of efficacy in my ability to mean something to others. At worst, maybe thinking about the intangibles will make me realize just how much I need to do make sure I do more good than harm for others, that I have a lot of catching up to do to leave a positive effect.

I certainly didn’t spend a whole lot of time considering how my grandfather’s intangibles affected me while he was alive. But, now it is very clear to me that I learned a lot from him about what it means to be a loving, committed, and compassionate person. He probably didn’t always know that he affected me in these ways while he was alive and that his intangibles affect me more now than any of his tangible stuff. Sure I love looking at the paintings he made and having something tangible to remember him with. But, if I look closely enough, I can see how the intangibles of his life have a much more profound and lasting affect on me than anything I can touch. Of course, for these intangibles to have such an effect, it requires that I have the psychological energy and desire to reflect upon and consider the intangibles of his life—resources that are not always easy to find or utilize. It’s certainly easier to spend inheritance money than it is to contemplate how another’s life has affected one’s own. But perhaps the additional mental work this makes is worthwhile because it provides us with more comfort, more meaning in our own lives. That is, if we truly consider how others’ intangibles affect us, we realize that one’s life does not end at death. Rather, one’s life has an affect on others even in death. The very nature of intangibles means that they are not bound by tangible constraints. Rather, intangibles are bound by the extent to which people allow themselves to be affected by others. After I die, people may forget me and my life. But, the intangibles of my life can continue to affect others throughout their lives and those who succeed them. Just as my ideas, emotional experiences, and actions have been affected by others who have now passed, so, too, can my life’s intangibles continue to affect others after I die. The effect of these intangibles might be best thought of as a wave, then, where the most noticeable effect occurs for those who are closest and most directly affected by one’s life. But, just as a wave changes into only a ripple the further away it travels, so might the intangibles of one’s life continue to affect others well into the future, perhaps even many generations and centuries from now. Money will be spent, real estate may be destroyed, fancy china will be broken. But, one’s ideas, values, and experiences have the potential to affect people in a much stronger way and for a much longer span of time.

If there is one thing that studying social psychology has taught me about human interaction and life, it is that we are often affected by others more than we will ever recognize. We rarely ever know what or how things affect us. Maybe these intangibles are not the wave I think them to be; maybe I overestimate one’s ability to affect others even in death. But, I don’t doubt for a second that the intangibles of one’s life have the ability to make a more profound and lasting effect on others than does the stuff we leave behind. The intangibles don’t have to be divvyed up between your survivors; they can all have them. Everyone can benefit from your intangibles if you let them and if they let themselves.

Book fetish

2006-12-17T23:49:00.000-05:00

I'd like to come clean for the record....

I have a book fetish.

I love books. I love to buy them, look through them, smell them, read them, look at them lining my bookshelves, on my nightstand, on the floor...wherever. I went to my local dealer tonight (Borders) and bought a few. I was jonesin' for some books. I love them when they're new, with unbroken bindings. They have such interesting covers, such intriguing titles, and all of them have received rave reviews...at least that's what the back cover says.

I love how they smell. Yes, books smell. I often put my nose right up to the pages and smell that musky smell that the pages make as they flip past between my fingers, one by one like dominos. You know the smell.

Do I need a support group for that?

Books make me feel smart. I love having books around because it signals the *potential* for me to become smarter, to have a new experience through words and the meaning they create. Sometimes they make me feel disappointment because there are so many staring back at me, longing for me to pick them up and finally read them. Sometimes they make me feel content in knowing that they are patiently waiting for me. Some of them are old friends that have been read multiple times, with writing and highlighting along the borders, tattered pages, or the occassional spot where I spilled my coffee while trying to multitask. Some of them are only acquaintances I picked up because they had a shiny cover.

Books are sort of like wine, I guess. You have to pick the right one for the right moment. Some people have simple palates, some more complex. Some prefer trashy romance novels (the wine spritzer drinkers), some the latest Jeff Foxworthy "You know you're a redneck if..." book (the Franzia drinkers--if Budweiser made a wine, they'd drink that, too), some the non-fiction historical piece written by some stuffy Harvard professor (the French Bordeaux 1960 vintage drinkers). Most of us are somewhere in between. Some of us like to dabble across the board.

Books are also a sort of time stamp. You have to be ready for a book to truly get the most out of it. For instance, I wasn't ready to read Noam Chomsky 10 years ago when my Dad was ranting and raving about it. But maybe I am now. What I also like is that the meaning I get out of a book changes each time I read it. I like to read "Tuesdays with Morrie" every few years because I get something different out of it each time--it says something just a bit different because I see something new in it each time, something I didn't see or wasn't ready to see the last time I read it. I like that books also track where I've been and where I'm going. I have books that are gifts from loved ones. I have a Jewel poetry book (back off!) from my tumultuous high school years--I liked to read it while listening to some equally-depressing Sarah McLachlan music (her early stuff, like Solace). I have servant leadership books that marked my studies of leadership and community service during college. I have books that mark a specific day, like the time I got Bobby Knight to sign his autobiography in Indianapolis. (He signed it but didn't scream and throw a metal folding chair at me--I have to admit, I was a bit disappointed.) These books describe my past interests and things I'm not ready to let go of, although they are opened less frequently now. I have some books that represent my current life and interests, like anything about feminism, social psychological methods or research (boring!), and the occassional fictional read. And some represent ideas or things I'd like to start thinking and doing more about in the future, like feminist theology. In some ways then, books mark your life, sort of like a visual diary. Sometimes the trajectory is steady and deliberate. Sometimes you stumble across something at a used bookstore or you receive a new book from a friend, and it totally alters the future of your book collection. It totally alters your collection and you.

So although they may sit there and stare at me, collecting dust as I have way too many other things to do than pick them up, my books are waiting patiently. And now they have more friends to keep them company.

So, there...I've said it. My name is Martha and I have a book fetish.

Tranny got pack

2006-12-17T01:19:00.000-05:00

Although I already spend a considerable amount of time thinking about gender issues and sexuality, tonight's adventures forced me to (re)consider them in great detail...

So, I'm out celebrating a friend's birthday and we end up at a dance club. I am the odd-woman-out given that I am the only person in our group who does not have a spouse/significant other to dance with. However, that's not necessarily a problem seeing as I can hold my own on the dance floor. But, what that *does* mean is that I am the likely target to be picked up by men who scope the floor looking for someone to dance with. I liken this experience to being the "weakest link" or the gazelle who is being targeted by hungry cheetahs in an African dessert. It seems that men tend to strategize for this moment: find the weakest gazelle in the group and attack (normally from behind). I usually try to prepare for this moment by having some sort of code or call for help so that my gang knows when to intervene, which in my case has recently been the "sound of a dying giraffe": Mwah...mwah.

So, I plan for these "attacks" cuz I'm a planner like that. However, the rules (and my call for help) suddenly change when the attacker is no longer a man--a cheetah, if you will. Instead, I am being solicited by a female-to-male transexual who seems to want me to engage in some sort of dance-off with him/her. So, because I like to dance, and because I figure "what the hell? let's see where this goes," I dance with the tranny. He/she is sort of a punk rocker type: wearing black from head to toe, spikey hair, lots o' piercings, even a dog chain, I think. He/she is a good dancer, and he/she compliments me on my dancing. I continue with the dance-off as my group of much stronger gazelles looks on, probably wondering what the hell I'm doing dancing with someone who is clearly a woman. They probably even wonder if I *realize* I am dancing with a woman. At any rate, the tranny turns the dance-off into a pick-up attempt, asking if I have a boyfriend. I mumble that I do have a boyfriend, but the tranny looks on in disbelief, asking where he is if said person exists. I say "out of town"--for a second, I think about asking the tranny if he/she has a boyfriend, but then I reconsider, wondering if I should "out" him/her and let him/her know I know he/she is a woman by reciprocating the "do you have a boyfriend?" question. Where is Ann Landers when you need her, damnit?!?! What the hell is the appropriate etiquette for questioning someone's sexuality? I decide to not ask the question back and introduce myself instead. As it turns out, I am dancing with "Ace"--come on! (By the way, does that make me Gary?) Don't you think that someone who is going to that much effort to become the gender he/she thinks he/she is meant to be would pick a "better" name than Ace? WTF? Eventually the dance-off/pick-up attempt ends and Ace goes his/her way, leaving me to return to the group of gazelles.

But, because I'm a high need for cognition kind of gal, I keep wondering what this interaction means. Here's what I've come up with so far:

1. What about me attracted the tranny to dance with me?
I would like to attribute this pick-up attempt to my mad dancing skills--maybe Ace just has a deep appreciation for phenomenal dancing skill. Hmmm....maybe not.
Instead, I am left considering if I am appealing to the tranny. Again, I would like to attribute this to my intense sexual aura, which knows no gender boundaries. Hmmm....maybe not. Ace is clearly a "butch" sort of tranny, so is he/she operating on a similarity principle and soliciting me because I, too, am "butch"? Or, is Ace soliciting me because I'm an attractive feminine type (I *was* wearing my hot red dancing shoes, you know), thereby operating on a contrast type principle? (Hey, this could be believable because Ace hasn't seen me play softball, flag-football, or any other contact sport which would clearly de-bunk my "feminine" facade.) Alternatively, do I just come off as being a welcoming or otherwise friendly and accepting person, and that's why the tranny approached me?
Of course each of the reasons I've suggested so far assumes that there *is* something about me that prompted this interaction--am I just being egocentric or falling prey to that damn fundamental attribution error? Instead, maybe Ace was just operating on the "weakest link/gazelle" principle and only approached me because I was in the most vulnerable position at the proverbial African watering hole.

2. What *is* the protocol for dealing with this situation?
Ann Landers seriously needs to send me a note about this, because I have no clue. Is it rude to tell someone that you know their gendered secret? Should I just play along and pretend I'm dancing with a cheetah when really I know I'm dancing with a lioness? I have set no precedent for these types of interactions because I have never had a tranny try to pick me up....well, at least that I know of. Is it more awkward to interact with someone while keeping secrets or "unmentionables," or is it better to put it all out on the table and risk creating hurt (or otherwise awkward) feelings?

3. Feeling sexually objectified is not bound by sex of the perpetrator.
Ok, so I get creeped out when strange men eye-fuck me, but how should this feeling translate when the perpetrator is a tranny? I was trying to interact with him/her as a woman--"be cool, he/she is just another chick." But, he/she still eye-fucked me as a man. You know, he/she eyed me up and down, lingering on specific parts of my body. Sure, women check out other women, but they don't eye-fuck them. How am I supposed to feel when the oogling is done by a woman, dressed and performing as a man? Gender *is* performed, you know. Feeling aside, I find it interesting that this oogling or eye-fucking is so gendered. That is, there's nothing biological about the fact that men eye-fuck other women. There's no gene that makes men do it--it's something that's socialized. So, I find it interesting, and a testament to how gendered these aspects of male-female interactions truly are, that this woman-trying-to-be-a-man oogled me from a man's perspective. Is that what it means to be a man? I guess the tranny thinks so....or at least that's how he/she decided to perform gender in this situation.

Hmm...I wonder when the next performance will be...

Haiku for You

2006-12-15T19:05:00.000-05:00

What better way to start a free association, random collection of (mostly) meaningless blogs than with a Haiku?!

(Feel free to verify my pentameter.)

Ode to a Bunny

Hop, hoppity, hop
Slow, fast, faster, faster, stop
Excite, energy

Long ears, use them well
So limber is your body
Jewels around your neck

Hungry, curious
Hop hopping through the vineyard
My forbidden friend