I'm curious as to what really happened around here when Rita hit land. It couldn't have been too much; everything looks normal. I don't see any damage at all, except for a tree knocked over that had already been dead for quite a while. There wasn't even a power outage, or else my bedroom alarm clock would be blinking.
I couldn't have stayed another minute at my parents' house. I feel so bad for our German relatives. I wish to hell my parents could maybe try to be normal, just a little bit, just for a while.
It was really good to see the dogs again. They're my parents' dogs now; they don't even miss me when I leave. I miss them terribly, but they're so much better cared for now. First of all, I don't walk them nearly enough, and secondly, the two of them need more than one person to pay them attention. Oh, and thirdly, my mom feeds them well.
Here's some entries I typed a long time ago. I'll post them here instead of at the correct dates.
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Saturday, September 17, 2005, 4:23 PM
Ugh. On this day, twenty years ago, I went to Parris Island for boot camp. Holy crap, was I an idiot. I don't know what the fuck was running through my mind; maybe I thought I'd be a trailblazer, showing all those men what-for on their own turf. Don't double over laughing, now. I don't know what it's like these days, but back then the marine corps was a very hostile environment for women. "Women are just a life-support system for a cunt." "Women marines are out of their MOS's (military occupational specialty--in other words, your job) as soon as they put their feet on the floor in the morning." Instead of feeling as though I had proven myself at the end of four years, I felt greatly diminished, and I tell ya, there wasn't much there to begin with.
As for boot camp, it only lasted nine weeks. They had us arrive at some god-awful hour in the morning, like two or something, and they started screaming at us immediately. I think I thought that because I was an army brat, I'd be a natural, but the fact is, being the daughter of an officer is nothing like being in boot camp, or, for that matter, being an enlisted schmuck. They let us have all of two hours' sleep the first night and I don't think I recovered from my sleep deprivation the whole time. I was a lousy recruit, not able to catch on and always at the end of the line, and I subsequently incurred the wrath of my platoon-mates. If I were a man, I'd have probably been the subject of a blanket party. As it was, everyone treated me with great disdain, so not only was I hassled by the drill instructors, but also by my fellow recruits. I didn't get the fact that it was all a game. I hadn't acquired the knowledge that the insults and mind-fuck games had nothing to do with me. Instead, I internalized everything.
I only really forgave myself for my "failure" last spring semester, where in the sociology class we learned about that one experiment where people were divided into two groups: prisoners and guards. After a *very* short time, the subjects started to inhabit and become their roles, and the experiment was stopped early because there was the risk of physical harm. I think I probably wrote about that before, but it was valuable to me, to learn that it was "normal" to have let those people influence my self-image.
Sometimes I wonder what kind of a recruit I'd be if faced with those circumstances again. But then I think, nowadays, I'm smart enough to avoid the fucking situation to begin with! I don't have to prove anything to any motherfucker.
According to my horoscope at astrologyzone.com, today is a fine day for romance. Hmmmmm [looking around], dunno about that. I should stop reading those stupid things, they only make me feel bad.
Saturday, September 17, 2005, 11:29 PM
Did some knitting today, a very constructive and soothing hobby. Tomorrow morning is a local doll show, where I'll meet up with Anne. Poor thing, she's so unhappy because she lives way outside the city limits in Redneckville, and she's a die-hard liberal.
Missy had a bad yeast infection in her ears and I took her to the vet the other day (did I already say that?). Upon our return, Peep hissed and yowled at Missy for the rest of the day and maybe part of next day too. I don't know what was up with that; usually they get along fine. Peep behaved that way when Missy came home from her spay, too. Then I just figured that Missy had a strange smell after having been gone all day, but the recent vet appointment only took half an hour or so.
Monday, September 19, 2005, 11:08 AM
I'm relieved that I dropped German class. I don't know what's wrong with me, that I can't make an eleven o'clock class. I've resolved in the future to take as many night classes as possible.
When I was working, I could mask my morning muddlement (sic) by hunching over the computer. I wasn't expected to perform, think or interact with others. Maybe that's why I stayed in those jobs so long, they were safe. Safe and soul-destroyingly boring.
Anne and I were talking about men the other day. She's convinced that all men, regardless of how nice, subconsciously wish women would just shut up and mind their place. It brought to mind that in most of my classes, if not all, women are the majority, so it's not a question of whether or not we should raise our hands and speak out. But in the corporate world, men rule. I really don't look forward to returning to that environment.
I thought for a while that I could sell Mary Kay cosmetics. I like their formula 3 skin cleanser and their formula 2 facial mask, even though I'm not so much into makeup anymore. Mary Kay was voted the number one company for women to work for, or something like that. But Mary Kay wouldn't accept me for who I was. They want all their reps to wear skirts or dresses -- something I never do; I don't even own a skirt or dress except for night gowns -- and they were all godly and stuff. Plus I'm the kind of person to live and let live, so to speak. If someone is interested in the product, sure, I'll sell it to them. But I'm not gonna shove it down someone's throat. Additionally, a big component of Mary Kay is recruitment, which for me is a dirty word. It's actually a glorified pyramid scheme. So, no Mary Kay for me.
I refuse to wear skirts as a matter of principle. Why should I wear a garment that denotes me specifically as a certain gender, a garment that restricts my movements? If men can be comfortable all the time, why can't I? Another reason I don't wear makeup; if men can jump in the shower and be ready in thirty minutes, why can't I?
When I was eleven years old and in fifth grade, I experienced a growth spurt and the advent of adolescence. Suck. A good two years ahead of everyone else. I outgrew all my pants mid-year because of my hips. You think my mom would get me some new clothes? No. She made me wear her skirts every day, complete with slips, hose and women's shoes. You know what a freak that made me? And then when the weather got warm, she wouldn't let me wear shorts to school. Like, with my womanly hips I would entice all those eleven-year-old boys. When I was growing up, my mom was a real asshole. Talk about neurotic, Jesus Christ. I was an active kid, running around and playing games on the playground, and these skirts were a real encumbrance, a way of telling me that I had to behave a certain way because of the accidental fact that I was born without a penis. Yeah, that's probably a major reason I won't wear skirts today.
I've noticed that War of the Worlds has already left the theaters, while Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and other contemporaries are still there. Personally, I was interested in the movie at first, but the antics of Dr. Cruise totally put me off. I feel sorry for Steven Spielberg, but I guess he couldn't control the off-screen behavior of his star. Wonder if the two'll work together again.
Oh gawd, guess what. I found a gray hair in my pubes the other day. The rest is sure to follow.
And oh, the doll show was a bust. $4 to get in, an exorbitant amount. And there really wasn't much there (and I don’t have the money to buy anything I might have wanted anyway). Anne and I caught up but didn't have much time to socialize. I think I stayed barely an hour.
1:37 PM
I like sleeping in the living room. It's so much more quiet! My bedroom window is right over the noisy air conditioning units for my building, which run constantly. Plus the living room isn't connected to any neighbor's room except the downstairs; the bedroom shares a wall with the neighbor's bedroom, and who needs that. When I get my loft bed from Ikea, I'm going to set it up in the living room. I know you're not "supposed" to do that, but who cares. It's not like anyone comes over anyhow. Then, my bedroom will be free to be my art studio. Currently, all my arts/crafts crap is scattered all over the apartment. Painting here, dolly hair there, knitting there. I need to consolidate.
Something else that's interesting: I don't wheeze when I sleep in the living room.
posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 10:39 PM
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