and now for something completely different...

ben took me sailing on lake washington last sunday. for some reason, he trusted me enough to steer. enough to steer under the bridge. we said we were sailing to china and a tiny part of me chose to believe it for a second, because we could, because nothing real was stopping us...only bills and work the next day and over-commitment.

anyway, there was potential and i felt ridiculously giddy just being outside of my comfort zone. ben somehow convinced me that i should do an apprenticeship. what? yeah, like learn to be an electrician or a sprinkler fitter or a locksmith. what?! me? ha! i'm a social worker and a chocolate factory tour guide. i know about people. i know about relating to people and helping people and analyzing people and listening to people and kissing people's asses. i'm still spending thousands of dollars on my 4-year liberal arts degree in anthropology.

well, i looked on the website at least. everything about these gigs sounds about 100% better than my life right now. more money. less debt. fewer rich bitchy women buying fancy chocolate.

new skillz.

treacherous, at best.

two winters ago, jodi, loyal, peter and i drove to des moines, iowa, through a blizzard, to see the red hot chili peppers. i remember that school was closed. when that happens at a college in minnesota, you can be sure that the weather is objectively bad.

i don't love the red hot chili peppers. i don't love iowa. i don't love driving through blizzards. i do rather like being alive, despite how much i complain about it.

so i can't remember why i decided to go. a free ticket, a chance for adventure. it was march 1, and that point of winter in minneapolis is a pretty desperate time. in retrospect, i wonder about my mental stability and ability to make rational decisions. cabin fever is for real.

we packed a survival kit. its contents were something like: a jade dragon, various spiritual writings, extra socks, and half a bottle of whiskey, a pink rock that said "lucky," a sodoku book, a copy of "forbes life," some gum, glowsticks, and a box of kleenex.

the highway was closed for most of the day. then it reopened for emergencies only. the radio said driving conditions were "treacherous, at best." well.



we lived. the concert was okay. we're lucky we lived. i give credit to the jade dragon.

wednesday morning i waited for the wrong bus. i don't know why. by the time i finally realized it was the wrong bus, i was nearly 30 minutes late for work. i waited in the pouring rain for the right bus and ate a doughnut while a homeless man told me about all the jobs from which he had been fired for tardiness.

saturday night, a recently married couple rented out the store for their reception. they knew about the space because they had been on my tour. luckily they gave me their leftover champagne. otherwise how would i have been able to deal with the toasts about love love and love and the glittered pine cone decorations. the party favors were little bird nest ornaments attached to clothes pins with the couple's names written on them. she gave me one. "you can cross out the names..."

i'm feeling similarly to how i did the day of the blizzard. my whole g.d. life is a minnesota winter right now. the conditions are all present for doing something equally spontaneous and foolish. i think i'd want to pack a slightly different survival kit though. only slightly.

m-my, but, uh, my stapler

when i was an intern at shelter back in the day, sj drew a big toothy mouth on a post-it note and wrote my name between the teeth. someone taped it to the stapler on my desk and there it remained for months, even when sj left, even when i left...now i'm not around there very often these days, but my stapler is still there and gives me some sense of belonging.

it's not there anymore. somebody worked really hard to peel all of those tape layers off the post-it note to free the stapler of my ownership. the becca-teeth are leaning against the security camera. next stop: garbage. i'm sure. i did just watch officespace. i know how these things work.

please, somebody prove me wrong!

not to write another entry that might make me sound like an angry feminist, but...well, hell, i'm an angry feminist.

crisis line highlight of the night!

me: hello?
man: hi. um. are you. is this for domestic violence?
me: yes we are a domestic violence help line.
man: i, um, er...need to take classesNOTCOURTMANDATED, but you know voluntary for, um you know...
me: ...what?
man: *ahem* not hitting or nothin' just, you know, a lot of yelling. a lot of verbal, you know.
me: mmm...let me give you some numbers to a some men's dv agencies.

*3 minutes later*

me: hello?
man: hi. it's mark again. um, they just keep telling me to call you.
me: i don't think that makes sense. we don't have any abuser treatment programs.
man: well. um. to be honest. i mean, do you know what i'm looking for?
me: it sounds like you are looking for a treatment program or support around being verbally abusive.
man: well i mean...i just yell and it's just how i was raised, but she thinks though that it's...so...well, to be honest, heh heh, i've had a few beers...what's that number again?
me: hm. well, i will give you the number again, but i think maybe it's a good idea to wait until you're sober to call these places. it might help.
man: ha. right.

*2 minutes later*

me: hello?
man: hahahahahaha. did i just call you? i can't seem to keep straight what numbers i've called hahaha.
me: maybe you should put a check mark beside them. maybe you shouldn't drink before you call these places.
man: hahaha, well right!

*5 minutes later*

me: hello?
man: um. sorry. do you have any numbers for alcohol support groups? i think that's what i really need.


what. a. fucker.

for the men who want to be in my club

when we started feminist book club, we thoroughly discussed what kind of space we wanted to create. after much consideration, we decided that 1) we wanted it to be an open, safe space for women who identify as feminists (or at least are open-minded and respectful of feminism) and 2) we would only allow individuals who identify as a woman to come.

since then, almost every male i know (which, granted, isn't many...) has protested membership requirement #2! as soon as we carved out a space where they weren't welcome, suddenly, "i care about women's issues! i should be allowed to participate in this discussion!" and "don't you think that's really close-minded and discriminatory of you to exclude men from the conversation? how are we supposed to learn?"

ha! how are you supposed to learn? i have some ideas. for starters, you could engage in conversation with me about sexism and gender roles instead of rolling your eyes whenever i bring it up. perhaps once in a while, you could even initiate these discussions (since you are so interested in getting a woman's perspective). you could go to the library, find a computer, and type the word "feminism" into the search engine. read some articles, read some books, read some history. every morning when you wake up and start your routine, try your best to think about how life might be different if you weren't a man. and if you really want to be in a feminist book club, start one! if you think women and men should get together and discuss sexism, you're absolutely right. i would love that. i would join. that would be fantastic! and if you want to start a men's only group to talk about feminism or masculinity or anything, really, go for it (i hear liz will bake you a cake with a penis on it). these groups are not mutually exclusive!

but listen: we are not obligated to educate you. it is not our job to chase you down and beat you over the head with feminist literature.

and we shouldn't have to defend or justify this reclamation of space. i know you're probably used to being able to go anywhere you want to go, but sorry, you can't come to my book club.

the kindness of strangers

1. out of thousands of people in the crowd tuesday night, i ran into bruce who loaned me a dollar so i could buy a cream cheese hotdog from the street vendor, which is the only thing that could have brought me true joy tuesday night. while people mobbed around us chanting "O-BAM-A!" the girl behind me in line was screaming, "no mustard! make sure you get mine with no mustard, i hate mustard!" to her boyfriend, who was in front of me line.
2. shana, who is especially concerned with zombies right now, just said, "the obama supporters move like zombies."
3. the man who gave us a ride up to the ferry invented a temperature-controlled shirt for racecar drivers to wear. guess you only really need one good idea...
4. clyde was going to make us carry lumber in exchange for a ride into town. his friend talked him out of it.
5. the bar was a collision of worlds. collision. of. too. many. worlds.
6. we slept in a room of beds. a huge bed for everyone. like a fairytale. brad snored. his snoring made it into my dreams about zombies. my friends were zombies. i had to kill them. the next morning brad made us the most delicious breakfast.
7. we were soaking wet. so many people passed us before one picked us up. we ducked into the only open place, in which the nicest, most motherly woman on the face of the entire planet was waiting with bowls of clam chowder for us. she called us her "almost snow bunnies."
8. we walked up and down the line of cars waiting for the ferry, but nobody was going to seattle. we made a sign that said "need ride to seattle" on the boat. no takers. we discussed what to do if zombies attacked the ferry. we decided it depended on whether they were walking or running and what kind of weapons we had. finally jason was going to seattle. jason smoked lots of camels and we listened to the firewater album twice. i haven't had to pee that bad in a long time. i was actually squirming. like a little worm.