Women and Sexuality

So I'm posting about something that has bothered me a bit over the last few weeks. 
But first,  let me preface this with a little history.

Women, as a whole have not been able to speak their minds all that long. So I guess that I really just ought to bee grateful to write this at all.

In my Early Modern English class,  we were talking about the witch trials in England. First let me give you some stats: 80% of the witch convicted were women.  Only 24% of people accused were convicted, but numbers were much higher on the continent.  All of the men and women who were convicted were executed, through any number of ways.  Burning was most popular on the continent, it made sure there were no relocation or burial sites. In England,  hanging or drowning were most used.

So what does this have to do with anything?

Well, the main reason that the vast majority of these executions were women is because women were thought to be made of lesser stuff,  both in moral quality and physically.  In order to have made a pact with the devil, as many of these women were thought to have, one must have had intercourse either with the devil himself or one of his demons.  Men could still do so,  but women did so more commonly because they did not have the reasoning or resistance that men did. They could not tell the difference between their human lovers and their demon lovers. They were also seen to be the sexual predators i their time. Men were "seduced" by women, they just couldn't help themselves.

So, in the cultural conscious of that era,  women held very little sway in the affairs of their time.  We have come very far in the last 450-ish years.

But I have one bone to pick with our more modern, more civilized society. Why is it that when a man does something distasteful or cruel, he is a jerk or a bastard, but when a women is, she is a slut or whore? Why is every insult thrown at a woman tied immediately to her Sexuality? Her moral quality should have nothing or at least very little to do with her "looseness" sexaully. This there still a stigma about women's mental capacity tied with her sexual activity? I would hope not.

Oh wait, Rush Limbaugh.

Damn.

A Note of Frustration

So I hate to post literally one day after the previous one. I HATE doing that.

Here's the thing, kids.
I just spent a half an hour sobbing in my car. And why? Because, ladies and gentlemen (pardon my language) because everything I touch turns to shit. It seems to me, especially in theatre. My show opens this week. And of all of the things I built for this particular show, most of them have to be remade. Because I don't know how to do anything correctly. My grades are in shambles. I am not in good standing with my peers.

Maddie told me the news, and I held it together just long enough to make it to my car. And then I cried. Harder than I've cried in a really long time. I've put in so much work and none of it has come to fruition. Not to mention, in order to get my grades up, I'm going to have to work just as hard. IT NEVER ENDS. I never get to relax. All of it was meaningless. None of it matters. So why the *&%$ did I work so hard?

I don't know. Why can't I just succeed? Am I epitome of big fish in a little pond? Was I only successful before because there was so little to be had in Morgan? Probably. And that stings.

So, here's the thing, kids. I am just going to go back to work. I'm going to do my best to repair what I can. And then, I'm going to bed. At 6, I am going to bed.

And I'll do my best to not think about my failures.
So until then, I'll just keep listening to this.

Mood Swings

I go through different mood swings. And different life phases. All the time.
Most of the time, I love theatre more than I can say. It's what I live for and work for. But days like today...?
I wish I worked a day job.
Theatre runs in cycles, and usually, I'm okay with it. There are lazy times, and then everything culminates into one giant glob of stress and terrible, called Tech Week, or for the less politically correct, Hell Week. It's where everything that was supposed to have gotten done weeks and weeks before suddenly gets done....in a matter of days. It's one big ball of stress. And so, as I sit here, finishing my hats, I sometimes wonder...what would life be like if I just...made phone calls all day?
If I didn't sprint off to Tuacahn to pick up more work every week? If I didn't work with the SAME people I go to class with and do productions with and hang out with? What if I just....didn't?
What if I just curled up in my caterpillar blanket and slept? Forever?
That's the dream.

A Post about Hats

It's hat making time again. You can always tell when I've been doing it, because there will be little rips and tears in my skin. Millinery needles are pretty serious. They are about 1/3 longer and 2x thicker than regular needles. So when I'm pushing them through three layers of buckram and my finger turns out to be just a little too close....
It hurts.
But I love it. Hats have complicated angles and things that you don't get in regular sewing. Not to say that regular sewing is easy, because it certainly is not. (Stupid period correct costumes....button fly my arse.) But I like the problems in hats better than I like problems in garment construction. Picking my poison, I guess.
I love millinery.

There are a few things that scare me though, about this particular business. Techies are notoriously hard on their bodies. The joke in theatre is that you work until you're 45, and then you teach, because you've ruined everything but your mind.

I met a milliner named Kathy about a year ago. Kathy was teaching a workshop at my university, and she was demonstrating how to hold buckram while you cut it. (It's a bitter mistress. But that's what you get when you soak fabric in glue for like....weeks.) She picked up her Ginghers and went to cut into the fabric. And then she grabbed her hand in pain, and said that her arthritis was too bad now. That someone else would have to CUT FABRIC for her. She literally could not support the weight of the scissors. Kathy was 38.

I just hope it won't happen to me.

Thoughts on Life

So interestingly enough, I think I am going to blog again. I never really liked the idea of it, just sharing with anybody, but I feel like I've maybe got something to share now.
See, when I was fourteen, I wanted to write all about life. I fashioned myself the next Steinbeck, to bring another generation around to understand their failings. The problem with that mentality is....I had never really lived. At all. I wanted to write about heartbreak and loneliness, and the absolute feeling of happiness. Coming from Morgan, I had never experienced a lot of this. I could talk about how much I empathized with someone, but I had no idea what depression felt like.

Don't get me wrong. I am not now saying that as a nineteen year old, I now know everything there is to know, or that I have felt every emotion. But I can now officially say, that college has certainly put a lot into perspective for me.

I can say certain things about myself and I can no longer say certain things.
Here is the list of what I have realized about myself:

• I used to despise the idea of marriage. I don't anymore. If I ever get so lucky as to come home to someone who cares enough to ask about the mustard stain on my shirt, then God will truly have blessed me.
• Like Rufus Wainwright, I like things just a little too strong for my own good. I have pushed my body and my mind to its limit so many times. And I won't stop. I care too much about my friends and about my career to let it sit.
• I hate criticism. I hate having to change. That being said, I know that the person I am and the person I want to be are two very different people. So, as painful as it is, I will continue to grow.
• I like sleep. A lot. And I never seem to get enough. Every morning as I lay in bed, I calculate the amount of hours until I will return and there are many days when I am tempted to not leave.
• I am ungraceful and callous. I hope to get better, but at a certain point, I just have to be okay with the fact that I will never be Cate Blachett.
• I believe God speaks to everyone differently. I can honestly say that I have felt God's presence far more through film and music than I have in most church meetings.
• Kids? We'll see.
• I have often struggled with the fact that I never seem to fit anywhere. My fashion is a little too tacky for the fashion forward people, but I am too "edgy" for more cautious dressers. I am sick of trying to fit either group. I will make my own style, if that's what it takes.

Anyway, this is all sounding very "I can do!". Personally, I've always hated motivational speeches. (Mostly because they are given by people who I don't care about. Have Coleen Atwood give a motivational speech, and then maybe I'll listen.) But you know, in the goal of having people maybe understand, I'll lay out my ideology and life plan.

In the next couple of years, I would finish school, and land a few jobs a long the way. Get a fairly good GPA, get a better portfolio. After school, I would just allow my career to go where it will. Live out of a suitcase for five years. Tour? Sure. Opera? Sure. Wherever would pay for me to live and work, that's where I go. Travel and work. That's the dream.

Somewhere along this timeline, I get married. My husband and I would work out the details, but I never really want to stop doing tech. Not to mention, I think I'd make a horrible mother.

Kid: Mom, can I watch Invader Zim?
Me: Sure, why not?
-Kid has nightmares for weeks-

So kids, no kids, that's all up in the air. I expect to move every six months for quite sometime. And then, eventually, we'd find a place we loved. A city, a town, a theatre. And then we'd live there most of the time. If I had to spend three months of the year somewhere else, then, well, I'd miss them tons.

And so, I mean, I thought I was on the road to achieving this rather unconventional utopia.

Unfortunately, I suffered several big personal blows lately, and I had to reconcile who I am.
In the fall, I had a big design opportunity flop. (Like flop so bad that I hated to put my name on it.) And that hurt, a lot. Tech has always come easy for me. And when it didn't, I completely fell apart. I felt so of ostracized after that, because I felt I wasn't living up to expectations of me. I slogged through the rest of that semester, and then this one hit. This semester has taught me discipline, and has undoubtedly been one of the hardest I've ever experienced.

So after the majority of this semester, I saw my way out. I would take an internship in Ohio, and take a year off. No more expectations, good money, and I would be far away from Utah. All part of the plan.

I was surprised to hear back at all, but I got an interview. Obviously, this was meant to be. God was preparing the way for me to go. And then...Tatjana said that she would love to hire me, but to call her after I graduated.

What?

You mean, I'm not supposed to go?

How could this be? I had made arrangements and plans, hell, I had budgets made.

So, I guess I am staying in Cedar. Apparently, there is something here for me to discover or find.
I am not allowed to run away yet.

Well, God, I hope you've got this one covered, because you've got me stumped.

So I guess what I'm left with is....what now?