123Valerie Strikes Again

Unprecedented Self-Indulgence.

Saturday, September 23, 2006

We Have Issues

JennyJenny8675309's Dad signed her up to receive a bunch of girly fashion magazines, which is an incredibly sweet gesture, but not entirely congruous with her interests. So far, JennyJenny8675309 has yet to read any of the issues, but has found that by tearing the pages out, she has a very useful backdrop for spray painting door knobs.

Scotty told me that you can get tons of $1 subscriptions online, so the gift may have had more to do with finding a sweet subscription deal on eBay than a sudden revelation that, "My daughter absolutely must know that burnt umber is Fall's hottest color." My guess is that if JennyJenny8675309's Dad had found a cheap subscription to Ass Bandits or Highlights for Children, those publications would now be littering our dining room table instead of glossy spreads featuring Lindsay Lohan and "100 Ways to Drive Him Wild."

It's always enlightening, though, to learn what the average male thinks the average female wants. Any of JennyJenny8675309's girlfriends could tell you that she would much prefer a subscription to Family Handyman or Tiling Today, but I bet that's not what her Dad thinks.

As I was working this morning, the neighbors were setting up for their 8-year-old daughter's birthday party.

"Abby, come here and help me put up the decorations," Neighbor Dad said.

"I don't want to," Abby muttered, jaws clenched, lower lip thrust out in the style of every unhappy 8-year-old girl that's ever lived. "I hate stupid Barbie. Why did you get Barbie? I hate her. I told you I wanted Spiderman."

It just goes to show you that, even from a very early age, most men do not understand women and thus find it very convenient and much less work to rely on stereotypes. Of course, the same can be said for women. I assume all men can be swayed with a beer and a blow job, so there you are. I challenge any of you to refute that, though.

It just seems like a lot of people I care about are unhappy right now, and a fair amount of the unhappiness stems from the fact that they're trying to live up to other people's perceptions and expectations of them—myself included.

I know I shouldn't love this person, but I do.
I know I should love this person, but I don't.
I know I should be fulfilled with my career, but I'm not.
I know I shouldn't be unhappy, but I am.
I know I shouldn't stick my finger that far up my nose because I could poke my brain, but I just can't help it.

On and on it goes. We beat ourselves up, down and sideways because we're not living up to illogical standards set for us by other people. Well, that's silly. You wouldn't send someone else to test drive a new car for you, so why do we let others drive our life's decisions?

I suppose because it's easier, just like it's easier to assume that all little girls like Barbie and all grown up women care about the latest pubic hairstyles. God forbid we should have to deviate from our prescribed notions of each other. "Oh, no! You like Renessaince Festivals? That's weird."

I'm guilty of this very thing, actually. Just this morning, I said that about some of my friends who are venturing to the "Ren Fest" as it's called in their circle. That wasn't very nice. It might have been true, but it wasn't very nice.

There are a ton of things about me that many people consider weird—my affection for astrology comes to mind, in fact. It's a practice that brings me a lot of understanding and acceptance, and I don't know how others can see it as hokey. But—you may find this a little surprising, my pretties—apparently a lot of people think that believing in astrology is a sure sign of mental deficiency. Who knew?

Well, I'm making a concerted effort to snap out of it. Because the Sun, just today, moved into the House of Libra, and Libra is one of the most objective, understanding, tolerant signs. It's a good time to turn over a new leaf, to become more accepting and willing to entertain new ideas.

What's that you say, my pretties? Do I want to go the Ren Fest with you later and get a turkey drumstick and a mug o' mead? Hell, no! Ren Fests are for nerds. I'm going to stay at home to map out my natal astrological chart, instead. Maybe I'll go see if Abby wants to play Barbies after her party is over.

In the Comments section, tell me that you're going to start living life based on your expectations, not someone else's. I think we'll all win if we do this, but I'll gladly pass on my back issues of Ass Bandits to anyone who feels devoid of a tangible prize.

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