In the spaciousness of everything, in all the time and all the things I've yet to know about the Cappo Comedy Writer, to say I didn't expect this was an understatement. I'd deliberately employed a careful cocktail of nonchalance, terribly low expectations and detachment to this endeavor. In fact, I'd even hesitate to call it that as if naming it would bring the Furies upon me. Is it ironic it gets the same treatment as Voldemort? Oh yeah, this whole thing is That Which Shall Not Be Named.
I seem to be running into this a lot lately like a wall that greets me at every turn whether low or tall, or thick or thin, I crash into it. It's the same question disguised different ways. For weeks it's been on my mind, lurking under conversations and yes, annoying me at every opportunity. When I do my daily read of newspapers today and find each publication screeching about the latest study from the Psychology of Women Quarterly, I'd finally had it.
The research essentially notes that our daily lives are still teeming with "unnoticed acts of sexism" implying women are less than capable without a man's help. And that we are all guilty. Ticking time bomb or not, I'm here with my two measly cents about it. NOT about the research per se, there are reams of witty/enraged/informed reaction on that already but on something far more relatedly personal.
Besides if you're a woman, you already KNOW sans the benefit of arduous costly study, it simply isn't true. The slander on capability, I mean. You're also likely far too busy, too tired, too pissed off and way too smart to give it any credit.
So it went. He talked too much, I told him to shut up.
He made me laugh non-stop as he couldn't help himself with the commentary. When he'd entered my house and spotted the bright red 9FT long board in the corner, he turned to me panic stricken and hyperventilated, "You surf? You didn't tell me you surf!!!". When did surfing turn to murder? I told him to calm the eff down, it wasn't like I was about to surf right then and there in the living room. He was the only boy in a family of sisters, and the softness he acquired from being both bullied by and having to protect them peeked through.
He had a hard time believing it was all happening and took every care he could of me. He was exactly who I needed.
FA on feathers, fangs, furies and all sorts of folly, yes, even the serious kind.
content copyright 2011
Yep, my life, my insanity, my copyright. If you like what you read, let me know :)
Did I use your image & attribute it incorrectly? Sorry! Let me know and I'll take it down. "Sssshhhh" image on blog header by Deborah Azzopardi. It's an amazing print now available thru Ikea.