It started with Carousel

I remember it plainly, the moment I evolved into a full fledged feminist. The day was warm, school was out for the summer. My emerging teenage intellect had decided it was time to expand my knowledge of movie history and I went through a phase of renting movies that I thought to be wildly grown up, scandalous and thought provoking. I was renting such films as A Clockwork Orange and the Graduate, watching with furrowed brow while examining the deeper meaning in all of it. This movie watching phase eventually expanded into genres with which I normally did not tread, and it was here that I watched Carousel, a popular jaunt by Roger's and Hammerstein.

It started out innocent enough. Boy meets girl. Boy loves girl. Then it started to veer off into some strange territory. During one scene in which the two romantic leads are having what seems to be a "heated discussion" regarding his tendency to gamble or run around with ne'r-do-wells or what not, he grabs her and lightly hits her on the arm. She retorts wildly that she is pregnant and he should not do that and suddenly the mood of the scene shifts. He drops to his knees and coos at her to sit down, fawning over her, asking if she is feeling alright, yadda, yadda, yadda. Even this scene if I am remembering it correctly had an air about it that the apologies somehow made up for his previous actions.

But this was not the moment in which my epiphany occurred.

Towards the end of the film, the male lead has died and gets granted one day to visit Earth. During this time he comes across his 12 year old daughter on the beach. Not realizing he is the spirit of her dead father coming back to make amends, she shuns him when he tries to give her a gift. She pulls away from him when he takes her arm and in the scuffle he lightly hits her. She runs off home to her mother.

Even this was not my epiphanic moment.

Once the girl returns home she is recounting the event to her mother. The dialogue is as follows:

Louise Bigelow: I didn't make it up, Mother. Honest, there was a strange man here, and he hit me hard. I heard the sound of it, Mother, but it didn't hurt. It didn't hurt at all. It was just as if he kissed my hand.
Julie Jordan: Go into the house, Louise.
Louise Bigelow: What's happened, Mother? Don't you believe me?
Julie Jordan: I believe you.
Louise Bigelow: Then why don't you tell me why you're actin' so funny?
Julie Jordan: It's nothin', darlin'.
Louise Bigelow: But is it possible, Mother, for someone to hit you hard like that - real loud and hard, and it not hurt you at all?
Julie Jordan: It is possible dear, for someone to hit you, hit you hard, and it not hurt at all. [they embrace]

And their it was.

The light went off.

I had always known on some level that women in the past have had it worse then women today, but it never occurred to me that the moral statement of a very popular musical would be that it's okay to hit your wife as long as you are sorry for it later. The ramifications were staggering. My mind had been stretched further than it had been. This moment was the beginning of a path which would eventually lead me to seek out the meaning behind the phrase "rule of thumb", to examine the possible motives held by Emily Wilding Davidson when she flung herself onto an active race track, to pursue theatre with the hopes of injecting each character with a dose of reality, avoiding stereotype and caricature. It led me to allowing myself to realize on some level that no matter what I do, say or accomplish I would always be seen by somebody, somewhere as "just a girl".

Eventually, I decided that I was okay to live in such a world. I could handle it. However, Now that I have a daughter and a son I realize that I must do more. I cannot let them grow up in a world where labels are constantly thrown at them, saying here is how a girl or boy behaves. This is what's expected of you. Anything different is wrong or wierd.

The epiphanic moment that I experience that summer afternoon years ago has stretched accross my lifetime and I carry with my the outrage that I felt in that moment. Now I realize it is not enough just to feel that outrage. I must act on it. We must all challenge the notions handed down to us by faulty thinking. Examine why things are the way they are and what we can continue to do to change them.

Some time ago, I went to a henna party in which a good friend of mine had her very pregnant belly tattooed with a henna pattern. Each of us got our own little henna tattoo for the purpose of reminding us to pray for her whenever we saw the tattoo. Mine is here. It has since faded and my friend has since had her baby. But it was fun while it lasted.

This was mainly an excercise in learning how to uplead photos.

Open Letter to the Guy Who Complained About Me Bringing a Baby to the Computer Center

Dear Mr. Hat,

While I understand that it might be a little bit distracting for someone to bring a baby to a place where people are supposed to be able to study quietly, I also understand that we live in a society where parenthood is seen as an inconvenience at best. If there was some way I could have come to campus to finish my homework without bringing my four month old nursing baby, I would have done that. For one, it would be much easier for me to focus on the assignment without wrangling an infant. For two, the professor requested that the format be in Excel so I had to do the problem on a campus computer. I do hope that you will note, that I did come to campus early in the day so that I would be bothering less people. I also would like for you to notice that I sat as far away from you as possible, so as to not be a hindrance or distraction if he needed to be fed. And more specifically, I also hope you noticed that if he so much as made a peep, I took him out of the room. Perhaps you put too much starch on your bow tie this morning, but I found it highly unnecessary for you to go and complain to the office personnel that "you couldn't get anything done" with "that baby" in there.

The facts are this, sir. Motherhood is the highest calling there is. Many cultures in the world recognize this. Ours does not. If a woman quits her job to stay home with her children, she is looked upon as not living up to her potential. If a woman chooses to work she is passed over for promotions and not taken seriously as an employee because of her "other priorities". Working parents are seen as a liability, and on site daycare is found few and far between. The only place I have ever seen family or maternity parking is at Babies R Us and that's sort of their thing. Public breastfeeding is still scandalous to many and nursing sit-ins are still sometimes a necessary occurrence. In our culture children are often treated as something to be dealt with in the course of getting on with the rest of ones life. In some countries families get up to a year of maternity leave, paid! I don't see any American company doing that.

And so, Mr. Hat, I would love to hear your suggestions of what I can do with my nursing infant while I come to the computer center. What's that? A sitter, you say. Okay, do you know anyone who is available? I didn't think so. Leave him at home? Okay, I'll just add another two hours of time to my day (broken up in ten minute increments) so I can pump enough milk to leave him for that long. Do the assignment at home? Okay, are you going to pay for the Excel download for our computer? I didn't think so.

Next time, sir, I think I would prefer that you had spoken directly to me. No, I take that back. That would not have been pretty. If you are indeed so bothered then there is no solution, no detail that could be shifted to change your outlook. That, I'm afraid, will have to be up to you, and unfortunately the general populous as well.

Sincerely,
Gothgirl and her Infant Spawn.

Lentil Bread Recipe

So by popular demand... okay one person, but you take what you can get. Here is the recipe. This is a combination of a few recipes I got off the internet and I didn't record the sources. First I will put the real ingredients, and then I will put what I did. Here goes.

1 1/3 cup water
2 cups wheat flour
2 cups bread flour
1 cup cooked lentils rinsed
2 Tblspns Olive Oil
2 Tblespns Honey
1 Teaspoon salt
1 packet yeast. 2 1/2 teaspoons

Oh, and the lentils can be used from left over lentil soup, which traditionally has curry in it but in my case did not. It had ham. So first I put the warm water in a bowl with the yeast and set aside. Then I mixed everything else except the flour into a large mixing bowl. Instead of olive oil I used canola. Instead of honey I used sugar and water mixed together. And instead of wheat flour I used 4 cups of white all purpose flour. So call the recipe police. Anyway, the last step is to mix as much flour in as possible, then knead the dough for a bit. I usually do this step in the bowl still. Cover the bowl and put it in the fridge for twenty minutes.

Next, heat some oil in the frying pan. Once the dough is done setting take a wad and roll it into a golf ball sized ball and then gently smash it flat. Dredge it in some more flour and place into the hot oil. Cook both sides till golden and crisp. The bread will puff up while cooking. Drain onto a plate with a few paper towels.

This is really yummy when fresh but can easily be refridgerated and reheated in the microwave for about 30 seconds each. Also, the bread does have some official fancy authentic Indian name but I can't bring myself to call it that since I changed all of the ingredients.

The Host, halfway through.

I'm in the middle of Stephanie Meyer's non-Twilight Saga book, called the Host. It's pretty basic on the sci-fi angle: invasion of the body snatcher's, that sort of thing. I can't help noticing some bizarre similiarities between this book and some of the theme's from the Twilight Saga. Here is a girl, an outsider, becoming apart of a family like unit to which she doesn't belong. Two men, both good guys, are vying for the affection of one girl, for lack of a better term. Also, two beings sharing one mind. This part seemed to happen in Twilight ALOT. This time around they are actually sharing one mind, physically. Even the supposed romantic overtures of the guys comes accross as the wierdly protective possessiveness that showed up with Edward Cullen. Even some minor details are shared, like the big epic sports game in the middle of the story, and the reflective eyes which the invaded humans get is an echo of the reflective skin that the vampires get in the Twilight Saga. Currently Wanda, as she is called by the surviving humans, is sharing a brain with Melanie, who the body technically belongs to. She has found the human enclave and is living with them. Melanie has no control over the body as Wanda does. When Melanie was still considered "wild" she lived on the run with her little brother Jamie and her betrothed, Jared. Now that Melanie is dormant but still very aware, Wanda is receiving significant glances from Ian. He and Jared have just had the Talk about whose intentions are leading to what. Ian says that Wanda deserves a chance at life and love, because she has turned her back on her own kind, and has repeatedly proven that she is not a threat to the enclave. Jared maintains that the body belongs to Melanie and she is still alive and therefore Ian must respect the bond that they once shared. It is an interesting situation, and I am curious to see how it is resolved.

In other news, I can't help but be slightly chagrined that New Moon is being filmed. While I am wildly excited to see the movie, it means that I am going to have to relive all the emotional treachery of the Jacob situation. New Moon was probably the most difficult to read as it accurately captures the heartbreak of rejection. And shows a different side to Bella Swan. She is a much more rounded out character in the second book than in the first. I have to give it up the Stephanie Meyer in that she skillfully weaves these situations which seem to have no satisfying resolution and yet she manages to find a way to tie things up. I could go on about the ending to the Saga but I didn't put up a spoiler warning and I know some of you readers out there have not read all of them yet. None the less, I am extremely excited to see the next movie and can't wait to see how it looks on screen.

Why I love Susan Boyle.

Here is an object lesson. This humble woman who has lived most of her life in a small village in Scotland decided that she wanted to be a professional singer and went to audition for Britain's got Talent. She didn't say I'm not pretty enough, I'm not young enough, I'm past my prime. No, she stepped onto that stage and gave the audience what they had coming to them, a good solid metaphorical kick in the pants! They judged her by her appearance at first. Sure, she doesn't look like a singing star. Where is the gangly thin physique, or the glittery midriff? Where is the bleach blond hair and choreographed dance routine? Here is a woman who presents ridiculous talent unapologetic with no agenda towards being made over. Nor should she. And what peaks my feminist victories is not that no one cares what she looks like. It is that everyone I have spoken with does care what she looks like and celebrates it. The consensus seems to be that she should pursue her singing career without plucking or dyeing a single hair on her head. She has released a statement that she does not intend to be made over, that that would be dishonest. I can only say good for her. We should take the lesson to heart. Instead of scrutinizing hairline wrinkles, or cellulite which only our husbands will see (and I guarentee they don't care) we should take a good solid look at ourselves and embrace our talents, our strengths, and more importantly we should act on them, regardless of what preconception is being thrown our way from the world at large.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY&feature=related

Nurosofice.

So we officially sleep in the living room and G is in a crib. We shall see how that goes. Of course the office computer desk is in the same room so it's not officially G's room. Poor little guy. As he get's older we will probably make it more his room, or move. Hopefully the latter. But currenlty we are all making do with the space we have, and stretching our money as much as possible. (Anybody need a facial?) Speaking of, I need to find something to do with the leftover ham bone that K's dad brought us. That should be interesting. There is still a LOT of meat on it because there was a second bone apart from the center bone and we couldn't cut the ham slices off on one side.

As far as the protesters I see on the news every night, I wonder why they are JUST NOW protesting government spending. Where was this outrage before? Where was it when an election was stolen out from under us? Or when we sat idly by as the government led us into a war based on nothing more than a pack of lies and a personal vendetta? Where is the outrage about a healthcare system that picks and chooses who gets a proper diagnosis verses an increasing attempt towards increasing monetary kickbacks? Seriously, the spending problem does not come from this admistration. It comes from a history of not looking into it and not keeping our government accountable. The spending bill is presented for people to see and I wonder just how many of the tea laden protesters have actually read it. That being said, I'm going to go have a cup of tea!