Did you ever have a project consume most of your life? Like weeks and weeks at a time and taking up all your life and energy. Let’s compare this to drinking. You start with one drink—or an idea. Then the cute bartender who mixes strong drinks gives you a drink for free. By then, you are starting to get tipsy (or, in this case, intoxicated with the idea). Well, you have already had a few drinks, why not commit to getting drunk?
The next thing you know, you are drunk on the idea, your brother is picking you up at the bar in the middle of the night and you’ve deemed twelve people as your new best friend. Well, now the idea is out of control and it is bigger than you are. You have to commit to it.
When the project or idea is over, you are hung over. You can’t get out of bed. You have no energy. You don’t want to socialize. You just want to sleep. Whether it is a summer job at a Nazi death camp or a book or a film or a museum display, any project can suck the life out of a person. The only way to cope with it is to relax for a week, take two aspirin, and call your friends in the morning.
Earlier this year, I questioned why people stay in relationships, even if the relationship is needy or abusive. Until recently, I couldn’t comprehend why people would be in a relationship that probably isn’t good for them. Now, I have discovered the answer.
First, I need to discuss one of my favorite authors, Richard Yates. Yates’ novels are unique in that they take traditional American dream, like having a job or having a family, and warps it into a dystopic reality. Then, I realized that the main goal of American society, the ultimate sign of success, is to have a spouse and a family. What is a spouse’s origin? The boyfriend/ girlfriend stage.
Whether it is by flashing an engagement ring, publishing it on Facebook, or unknowingly slipping the word “boyfriend” in every other sentence, people, particularly women, like to announce to the world that they are taken.
It doesn’t stop there. The coupled women are always trying to set up their single friends. However, what most coupleds don’t know is that there are two kinds of singles—people who are single by choice and people who are single not by choice.
Now, it isn’t like the singles by choice don’t want to have the same bragging rights as the coupled. There are just a lot of pros to being single like checking out guys at the beach, not having to share every detail of your life with someone or not having to do something someone else wants to do because of the famous compromise. This all sounds very selfish. Then again, isn’t forcing your single friends to listen to how great your boyfriend is even thought he sounds like a douche, really selfish as well?
Let’s discuss hotel rooms. In the beginning of the week, I was thinking how I adore hotels. I wish I could bottle up whatever smell hotel hallways have and make my bedroom smell like that all the time. It smells like a combination of freshly vacuumed carpets, hope and chlorine. Plus, staying in a hotel is like living in the mansion you never had: there’s a pool, a maid, a soft bed, no dogs crushing your legs or bladder and people who will serve you a meal at a phone call.
However, actually staying at a hotel this past week, I remembered all too quickly why my family and I all have separate bedrooms. First of all, there must have been a yeti gene that skipped me, because someone is always setting the air conditioning to what could only be 32°. I say that because my iced green tea from Starbucks next to me isn’t frozen yet, but is perfectly cold, despite being purchased 12 hours ago. And in spite of me being the only one freezing, somehow I’m the always the closet to the air conditioner. After freezing to death for years when I was younger on our annual trips to Ocean City, I finally started to bring thick socks, a long sleeved shirt, a thick sweatshirt and pajama pants to bed but even then I was getting icicles.
The second thing is that you learn things about your family you don’t want to know. And I’m not talking about your brother’s morning “blood circulation” problem. I mean like your mom snores like a ship coming into harbor. Your brother wakes up every few hours screaming like a Vietnam vet when he’s sick. When your dad has been drinking, he and your mom compete in the Olympics of snoring. Your other brother has to fall asleep to the T.V. turned up to just the point where the neighbors won’t complain, but so you can’t fall asleep until he shuts it off. And then there is the neurotic sister who wakes up in the middle of the night, turns on a light and starts reading or writing.
Then, there is the fact that I’m the freak of my family and need to read before bed while everyone else is watching Adult Swim. And just saying, it is hard to read Hemingway while Robot Chicken is blasting.
Finally, think abut the logistics of hotels. They are designed to fit the most amount of people in as little space as possible and lock them up in a small room. Where else does that happen? Prison, zoos and mental hospitals. Oh, and college dorm rooms but at least them, you get your own sheets.
So, next time you’re on a family vacation, don’t forget your parka, the Breathe Right strips and industrial strength ear plugs. Otherwise, you will probably be reading this at 3 A.M. if you can concentrate over Family Guy.
Let’s talk about sizes. There are many sizes a lady has to memorize in order to have her outfit perfectly fitted to her body. Shirt size, pant size, shoe size, bra size, underwear size, ring size, dress size. It is all a mess of numbers.
Then, to add to it all, there are the names of certain sizes. Sure, being labeled as “small” or “medium” sounds nice; it makes you feel better about yourself. I am small, I am medium. Then, with ladies with curves, you are considered “large” or “extra large.” I don’t want to be known as large. I am not large or extra large, I have curves and am probably a D cup. Why isn’t there a size called “curvy” or “non-stick figure”? Elephants are large. SUVs are large. Skyscrapers are large. Women are not large. Why do you think none of us usually admit we are bigger than a medium? Because we don’t want to be labeled as large.
And then there are common misconceptions of pants and dresses, ranging from sizes 00-22. Working in retail, I learned that men’s pants are measured by the inches around their waist. Thus, a man with a 36 inch waste will wear a 36 sized pant. However, women have 00 and 12.What does 00 mean anyway? That you have a less than 0 waist line? Or 12? I am a size 13 and I know my waist isn’t 13 inches around. The common misconception is that any size 12 or up means that a woman is fat or unhealthy. I don’t consider myself either. I work out, I try to stay in shape and my job consists of running around for about 8 hours.
The numbers don’t add up. Shirt size, pant size, shoe size, bra size, underwear size, ring size, dress size. I feel as though, with this particular subject, it is best to ignore numbers. It has worked well with me avoiding math so far.
The common phrase “sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me” is supposed to inspire confidence. I like to believe that this is, pardon my French, a load of crap. If someone throws sticks and stones at you, the wounds will heal but being insulted can stick in the back of your mind for the rest of your life.
Two examples of common phrases that are worse than sticks and stones are “That’s retarded” and “That is so gay.”
I will start with “That is so gay.” “Gay” in this case is supposed to be synonymous with “stupid.” One, homosexuals do not walk around saying “That is so straight,” because it would offend people. So how do you think homosexuals feel when “that is so gay” is used? I know, it is used so often to the point that no one really recognizes what he or she is saying, but it is still offensive. What is wrong with the world stupid? If you mean stupid, say stupid.
And then there is the darling phrase: “That is retarded.” I will give you a scenario for this one. At my place of employment, we were a little hectic in getting ready for the season, which started last week. So, this boy I know had to write the menu for the concession stand by himself. He doesn’t have the best handwriting, but at least he tried. He was told to find someone else to rewrite the sign and he did. Even though the sign has been changed for over a week, his boss decided to still harp on the subject and told the boy that he, and this is a direct quote, “writes like a retard.” Now, the thing that his boss doesn’t know is that the boy has a learning disability that he doesn’t promote about himself, where he has trouble with motor skills, which includes handwriting. The boy didn’t tell his boss the truth and he isn’t one to start trouble, but you can sure as hell believe that his family is very offended. Do not use the word “retard.” You don’t know what people have or what they have gone through. You don’t know who that word would offend. There is not a certain look that a person with special needs has. And even if there was, why would you insult someone like that for having a different way of learning that doesn’t fit the mainstream?
The moral of the story is think before you talk. Sticks and stones can break your bones, but words are something that hurt even more.
The connotation associated with censorship is that it is a bad thing. Opinions also vary on the idea of censorship—some people are for it and others are not. There is one form of censorship that seems to work well with life and that is self censoring our thoughts. We don’t say everything we think in order to spare the feelings of others, to abstain from hurting our own feelings or just to be polite. However, at certain ages, we lose our censors at the expense of others.
I will tell you a story. I have just recently started a job as a waitress to the place I have worked the past 2 summers. I pretty much knew the clientele was of the retired age and older. Sometimes these people are very courteous and other times they love to complain, especially on rainy days. As I was trying to be as nice as possible for a good tip, this couple just blurted out, “The food was better last year.” They said it so nonchalantly, like, “How’s the weather outside?” or “Can I have another drink?” that I was taken aback. I was wondering if they even noticed their bluntness. They seemed fine with what they said, like nothing was wrong with it. I could tell there was not a single ounce of remorse for what they said, thus no censor.
The same can be said of children. If you ever spend time with small children under the age of 7, they don’t keep their mouths shut. There is screaming, yelling and pointing out the blatantly obvious. There is no censor for a child, but as the child grows older, he or she realizes that saying what is in his or her head isn’t right.
Here comes the question of the week. Is it right? Should we suppress our true feelings in order to be polite? Or should we be wise like the elderly or pure like children and just say what we think?
I hate stereotypes. The only place they belong is in literature for secondary characters. If you don’t know what that means, google it. But, ladies, there is one certain stereotype that we must accept is true—luggage.
The stereotype is that women always pack heavily when going on vacation.
Now, before every trip, we make this promise to ourselves to pack lightly, especially if the trip is short. But then we start to pack a tiny bag or suit case and keep thinking, but I will need the second sundress if the weather is nice or one pair of shoes just isn’t enough. Next thing you know, there is a giant suitcase filled with half your wardrobe, including winter clothes even though it is summer.
This process may be flawed, but it seems to work. In the beginning, there is a small bag to start. And sometimes the small bag is all you need. If you need a bigger bag, don’t hesitate. Usually I find, if you think you need to pack something and you don’t, you usually end up needing it at some point during your trip.
It is just a fact of life that women pack a lot. The stereotype is that not all women pack a lot. But over-packing isn’t always a bad thing. You know if you go with a man and his one duffle bag, he always forgets everything. So, technically you are packing for two.
It is a tradition that women pack heavily. And you don’t mess with tradition.
