Driving In Your Car, I Never, Never Want to Go Home; or Too Much Feminist Fiction Makes You Gay

So, I finished "Fear of Flying" by Erica Jong this morning.  448 pages of feminist thought packaged in the seventies.  I bought it in college thinking that it would make me look especially gender studious and intellectual (which, oddly enough, I thought would be attractive to dudes sitting near me in the Thayer Street Starbucks - poser!), but never deigned to read it until last week.  A few orgies, a damaged marriage, lots of talk of psychotherapy, and a judicious use of the "c word" later and I feel thoroughly satisfied that I finished the damn thing.  I also feel confused, as I often do when I read this feminist stuff, as to whether or not I am "liberated" or just play-acting or going through the motions of supposed liberation to eventually put it all aside for eventual marriage and all that jazz.  Not like I really care if I'm being feminist or not (being feminist is kinda passe and has been replaced with being green, which is much more fun) or like I really believe in marriage or love or anything but adopting dogs and children and recycling and objectifying Michael Phelps for his unbearably sexy bod (shoulders you can rest horizontally on and huge hands.  I love him.).  

Aside from feminist theory, I'm obsessed with the Olympics.  I ditched my Sistas of the Traveling Pants variety on Friday night to come home and watch the Opening Ceremony and Parade of Nations - both of which always make me cry (in a good way).  There I was watching little countries with one or two olympians carry their flags so proudly.  I fucking heart the Parade of Nations.  Represent, Vanuatu!

I have been doing some productive things with my time.  Like running a comfortable 3.5 miles every other night.  To some this seems like child's play, but to me, this is FREAKING AWESOME.  Moreover, I've broken out ye olde juicer in an effort to shake my coffee addiction.  The problem(s):  A giant Starbucks (black and strong, please.  NO MILK) is like, $3 or something.  A glass of juice in the morning requires the following: a head of romaine, 7 stalks of kale, an organic lemon, ginger, two apples, etc etc.  For one glass!  This becomes expensive, and though I live near a Whole Foods, I've put myself on a tight leash when it comes to spending there.  The juice is actually not bad and, I have to say, I felt better running (only running, though, I felt like shit most of the day) than on other days, but that could've just been because I was imagining myself running in some Olympic event (as if!) and perhaps the spirit moved me?  Anyways, I'll stay with juicing long enough to use up all my produce, but the clean up is bumming me out, too.  I mean, who wants to wake up, chop up a bunch of veggies, and then push them through a machine that sounds like you're chopping up a human arm, to make a puny glass of green juice, only to clean up the guts of all the produce from the filter or whatever?  I'm going back to Muesli and a huge coffee by Thursday, me thinks.

I've also been good about saving money.  I kinda regretted doing the "leave my debit and credit cards and cash at home" thing this afternoon because on my walk home, I encountered two really needy homeless folks that I would've given serious cash to.  The first was an old guy in a walker/wheelchair contraption.  He had a veteran hat on, which always makes me sad and I had nothing but a penny or two.  And I had just spent my dollar+ on hash browns at Dunkin' Donuts (they're awesome).  Anyways, I sat and chatted with him a bit and gave him my hash browns.  Which worked out well, because he seemed to really like them and I didn't need them, going to the Bahamas in a week or so.  We say our goodbyes and I walk a block down and there's a freaking pregnant homeless gal.  I mean, spewing forth with child any day now prego.  And I had no money to give her.  I did ask her if she had a safe place to stay (working for the state has at least given me a good knowledge of the shelters, etc), WIC, food stamps, etc.  She said she lived in Somerville, but the place was crappy, and she was due in 4 days.  FOUR DAYS!  I felt like a total tramp that I had no money to give her.  Then, I realized, a-ha!  Work fucked up my t pass a few days ago and gave me a replacement $10 card that had just been hanging out in my bag.  I gave it to her and she seemed decently pleased.  So, now I am going to bring some cash with me so I can either (a) give it to homeless folks or (b) buy myself hash browns.  The moral of the story is: always be nice to the homeless.  Why?  Just because, DB!

Now, it could be the feminist literature, the overall disenchantment with all things Boston (which obviously includes the men here - especially the ones who wear khakis that are too tight and short and knock into me on the sidewalk on the way to work, thereby causing me to spill my juice and lose the bottle cap in the road.  I mean really, where were you raised and who gave you, fashion disaster of the free world, permission to ram into me without apology?  It's a damn good thing I don't own a taser.), but I have a girl crush.  Easy now, I'm straight, but if, by some miracle, the Lord comes down and takes away my overwhelming (and very annoying) love/lust for men, I have found my candidate for best girlfriend ever.  Yes, she sings the song in the GM commercial that airs relentlessly during the Olympics (see?  It all ties together, the complicated intersections of life!).  Yes, I like that song.  Scratch that - I love it.  So much that I googled and found my missus.  And while I can't fathom (yick) doing lesbianish things with her, I want her to be my little girlfriend.  Pale skin, brown eyes, brown hair.  She's like my male ideal in female form.  And her voice is rad.  And she has a certain 'fuck convention' air about her that I dig (catch her wailing on the last verse.  Hot).  Yes, I have given this far too much thought.  No, I am not "turning gay," as my Dad would ask me when I hadn't shaved my legs during my entire Freshman year of college (even I shudder to think now).  Yes, I wish that I could (imagine the clothes!  the girl talk!  the emotional openness!  HA.).  But I know that the second anything randy would happen, I'd be horribly disappointed at the absence of penis.  Take that, Erica Jong!  I'm liberated!  Pshaw.  It won't stop me from loving my little cowgirl of a girl crush - we'll go live on a ranch together (right next to Robert Redford) and ride horses and wear cute cowgirl shirts and go to country gigs where we can line dance with sawdust on the floor.

Anyways, czech her out.  She is really good and from an aesthetic perspective, I'd looooove to find out what skin care she uses.  Behold: http://youtube.com/watch?v=fja-KazVMYU

And as an aside, here are some songs I've been listening to a lot during my commutes:

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out - The Smiths

Tonight - Lykke Li (makes me cry a little bit)

I Kissed A Girl - Katy Perry (I know, the theme of this post is freaking even me out)

Damaged - Danity Kane (to add a splash of class)

Too Shy - Kajagoogoo (because it's a daily addiction)

Glamorous - Fergie (what?  oh yeah)

Stand Back - Stevie Nicks (I heart Stevie Nicks.  I used to listen to "Edge of Seventeen" when I was like 20 and rock out, while also wondering why anyone would want to score with a 17 year old dude?  I mean, really?  I've heard the stamina argument, but these days, if you're not an Olympian or don't have a job, I really can't be bothered to drop trou...)

Rapture - Blondie

Holding Back the Years - Simply Red (yes, this is the strangest one on the list perhaps, but for whatever reason, I like it.  My parents used to listen to it a lot when I was growing up)

Oh, and I'm definitely getting stuff crack-a-lackin' with Chicago.  I've quit my gym and other local-ish memberships and the networking/job hunt chain is full steam ahead.  I feel really grateful - a lot of lovely people have done one hell of a job pimping out my resume or finding me friends.  Just this morning, I received three emails from chipper peeps who were also moving to Chicago around the same time (from Kansas, Nashville, and Colorado respectively) and did I want a roommate?  Do I run?  Do I have a dog?  Everyone seems very nice so far and best of all, I've found organizations that I really, really want to work for.  Consulting is looking more and more promising and the favorites are ones that do work with private sector companies to maximize positive social impact.  Shoo, child, that'd be freaking awesome.  At first moving to Chicago was just a whim and I needed to sink my teeth into a new adventure.  Now, it's proving to be a smart career move - there's so much more going on there than here.  Banjo, here I come!

Have a wonderful (rainy, if you're in Beantown) Tuesday, folks!  I, on the other hand, will be getting FOUR (yes, I am ashamed) cavities filled.  Yes, I brush and floss.  Apparently, using natural toothpaste (and the absence of fluoride therein) has rotted my teef and I have to visit Mr. Dentist who likes to talk about politics and stare down my shirt in two painful installments to remedy the problem.  Hrmph!