I just found out there's no such thing as the real world

I've noticed that there are several things that used to bother me that inexplicably don't anymore. I'm not sure if that's a sign of growing maturity or growing callousness. Is there a difference?

So, over the last couple decades or so, I've been female, and have been rather enjoying it. Despite this fact, something about the general conception of feminism has always bothered/amused me more than it has prompted me to take it seriously, and I've finally figured out exactly why, thanks to a friend of mine and the wonders of blogging. Through those means I experienced an equality/anti-male chauvinism/sexism rant, followed by an entry dedicated to the cute outfits purchased at the mall and exactly how much weight and flab needs to be burned off an already perfectly trim figure in order to achieve that sexy anorexic look.

I'd be a hypocrite if I berated others for aspiring to impossible beauty ideals, but if nothing else one must appreciate the irony here. One day passionately venting about male dominance and forcing unattainable standards on women, and mourning over not being able to fit into size 0 jeans the next. Feminism, or more accurately, many who consider themselves feminist, irritates me because for the most part, it strikes me as so misguided. Respect and independence are earned through lifestyle, intelligence, and demeanor, not by arguing, insults, and generalizations (try to have a gender related conversation without being informed that all men and all women have conversely common traits).

For other extreme "feminism" examples, see Jessie Spano from Saved By The Bell. Is ridiculing your boyfriend every time he makes any sort of comment in appreciation of the female gender really necessary? Shouldn't you, as a female, be thankful for at least the occasional indication that he's not playing for the other team?

Find what wind serves to advance an honest mind

Something I like about having a regular journal or diary over an extended period of time is that after a while, one can look back on days exactly a year or two ago and discover what was being felt, done, and dreamed at that particular point in time. Interestingly enough, precisely one year ago I started my Lenten deprivation, was gearing up for musical tech, and was on a vague but nagging search for a job. My, how things change.

Valentine's Day, naturally, is coming up again, and this year I've decided that I'm really glad I don't have any sort of commitment to the holiday. Sure, couples use it as an excuse to give and receive pretty and almost exclusively unnecessary things, singles use it as an excuse to sigh and mourn and be cynical, and everyone (with the exception of some Lenten folk) uses it as an excuse to drown themselves in processed sugar. But when you're single and not embittered and vengeful, it's easy to note the outright cuteness of much of the activity, appreciate the jealous irony in the protests of non-paired people, and be amused by the overt commercialism.

And really, how can anyone take too seriously a holiday which generates childhood memories of shoeboxes, construction paper, doilies, and awkward little people running around, giggling?

Linda's Top 5 Favorite Words:

1) Epiphany

2) Superfluous

3) Awe

4) Serene

5) Taboo

Woke up to the sound of pouring rain

I had this conversation the other day with a girl from my gym class, observing with some ironic amusement the fact that no one ever admits that they're not smart. Obviously, within the spectrum of human intelligence, there has to be some on the bright side, some holding up the average, and a few straggling along on the dense end. But when's the last time you heard someone say "Yeah, I'm truly not very smart" without any sarcasm, humor, or pity plea? It doesn't happen too often. Most people prefer phrases like "I could get straight A's, but I just don't care," or "I'm really smart; I just don't test well." Not that these statements are always false, but when and how do you differentiate the sincerity from the red light on your internal BS meter?

Which brings me to my next point. There are plenty of personality areas that one just assumes that he's successful in. Jerks often don't think they're jerks, drama queens often don't think they're melodramatic, and boasters often just think they're providing good conversation. Which, naturally, encouraged me to begin to wonder whether I, like the rest of the world, view myself inaccurately in such instances, or if, by some chance, I'm an impossibly perfect anomaly. We've all heard people point out largely imaginary personal flaws ("I'm so fat!"), only to be gratified by their consoling friends ("You are so not fat."), but there has to be a point in which a person can admit that they are actually flawed.

My personal results were surprising. It appears I am not, indeed, the epitome of perfection. Here's a short list of what I've deduced are my greatest social and personal

Gossiping is something I do constantly. Though try my best to be non-judgmental, not overly critical, and stay unagitated by others, I find myself almost continually talking about someone and their behavior or personality. Though some of the conversation is often flattering ("Kristen is positively adorable.") or at least impartial ("He has his moments sometimes, but overall he really is a good kid."), there are plenty of occasions where the subject matter isn't so gracious. It's a horrible habit, and I always feel guilty after such conversations.

Criticism is another issue with which I struggle. I've noticed that, though I usually keep it to myself, I almost always have instant mental critiques of people, actions, and situations when they are first introduced to me. I admit that I often have a difficult time keeping an open mind about things. I also group into this category my somewhat obnoxious habit of correcting grammar and other minor, largely insignificant verbal inaccuracies.

Admitting I'm wrong is something I think I'm usually physically incapable of. Especially in arguments, I refuse to consent to defeat, partially because I have some sort of post-modernist mindset somewhere in my head that tells me that if I still think I'm right, than I can't possibly be 100% wrong, can I? In more factual instances, or times at which I'm not very emotionally invested, I'll have no problem bowing out, but at times when it's not entirely possible to verify a conclusive victorious point, I'm relentless.

Finally, envy. I find myself getting jealous surprisingly easily for no consequential purpose. I'm extremely protective over things I view as mine, and though I believe I've grown fairly proficient at stifling this urge with a good splash of "you're being an idiot" reasoning, having that sour urge in the back of my mind is distracting.

This sort of "I'm perfect" mindset goes hand in hand with the common criticism of that worn-out "Nice Guys Finish Last" essay. As another blog author observed: "You're not a Nice Guy, you're not a Tragic Poet, you're not the One Great Thing the girls will be kicking themselves in twenty years over having cast you aside... Grab the Mag-lite of Introspection and go rooting around inside yourself. Dig out your inner Sorry Bastard, introduce him to your outer Nice Guy, and watch with joy and popcorn as your Nice Guy gets a mud-hole stomped in his passive-aggressively bitter ass."

P.S. The Diviners is a better show than I anticipated and I'm breathlessly anticipating the onset of musical.