The weather is beautiful, and the birds are singing and chattering eagerly with the busyness of “I got shit to DO.” I don’t know my birds, but there’s a red cardinal and some black thingmes all going at the bird feeder like teenage girls at a Taylor Swift concert….. they actually sound like them, too. I am beginning to understand why British men call women “birds.” I don’t mean it in a pejorative way because I am a woman, but the chatter is similar. Very similar. I am convinced that the reason men don’t listen to women is the lack of bass in their voices, so I try to use my cigar and vodka range whenever possible. I have found that talking to a man is similar to talking to a dog…. Also not meant pejoratively. It’s just that in order to train a dog or get a man to listen to you, you have to have a certain amount of power to your inflection, and to both dogs and men, that comes with reaching deep down into your range. Don’t believe me? Try it. I promise you will get results. Stop being delicate when you say things and men will startle because they were not aware you could mean business.
So we’ve gone from birds to women to dogs to men. I think we’re off to a good start, don’t you?
I don’t know what to write about today, but I know I have to, so pack a lunch, son. It’s going to be a while before I hit brilliance. Speaking of which, I thought I was very clever yesterday with aforementioned asshat conservative who, halfway through the conversation, said “I didn’t know you were gay.” I said, “I’ll BET.” But that’s not the clever part. He said, “are you a man?” I said, “I am more of a man than you’ll ever be and more of a woman than you’ll ever get.” I am not sure it did me any favors, but I thought it was a good line nonetheless. You can steal it from me, it’s ok.
Because of my relationship with Argo, I reveled in gender not being an issue. I stopped seeing it at all. I stopped caring whether people wondered if I was a man or a woman, because the answer is “yes.” Everyone mentally has both sides inside them. I choose to acknowledge that truth. I started seeing gender bending as hot, because when it hit my brain, it hit my wardrobe as well. I mean, why wouldn’t it? I have written extensively about how much more men’s clothes appeal to me than women’s, because I do not want to look like I am for sale, a bird preening to get attention from the opposite, or the same, sex. I do not want to accentuate my rack in order to get out of tickets or get the “cute girl” discount at Starbucks. Those things are nice, sure, but it’s a system that needs to go the fuck away. There is so much pleasure for me when the people I CHOOSE to let see my body do. One girlfriend in particular made my year when she said, “you got the boobs I always wanted.” Beat that with a stick.
My male side comes out in that protector/tiger mode, and I think it does for a lot of women. Hell hath no fury like me when one of my friends is in danger. The thing is, though, most issues don’t need that kind of fury and I put it out there, anyway. I would have been a horrible soldier, because my answer would never have been to use my head. It would have been “blow ’em up. It’s easier to apologize than ask permission.” And I wouldn’t have done it for me. I would have done it to protect everyone else and hope I got included. The phrase “hothead jackass with a God complex” that I wrote yesterday is still ringing in my ears because it describes me so perfectly… except I’m not out for glory. I’m out to be “the guy.” The leader. The one you want in the front… getting there because everyone wants me to be there and not because I needed the clap on the back.
I read a thing yesterday that cracked my shit up because it was so accurate…. That hell for an INFJ is being in a room full of people where they’re sharing their ideas and no one thinks they’re interesting. The “oh my God, that’s so true” is strong in this one.
I may get a chance to be a leader yet. I took a break from writing to answer a phone call (LOOK AT ME! I ANSWERED THE PHONE!) and it turned out to be the guy from LinuxJobber. He asked me some questions and said, “clearly you know what you’re doing. Let me have someone call you back.” The funniest part was that we ended up having an interview, but he originally called to tell me that my book had shipped.
I’m good at this game. 🙂
Stories That Are All True 