"Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds." - Albert Einstein

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I use this blog to comment on the world as I see it. Sometimes that's negative...sometimes it's positive...but it will always be truthful.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Reason #2 I must get out of here...


This is Freddie #4 - Freddies #1 through 3 died due to no fault of my own (water changing is rough on the Bettas, turns out).

I am insanely, spectacularly, outrageously jealous of this fish. Why? You might ask...because Freddie has a function in life that was defined upon his birth. He swims around, looking frisky, looking forward to me feeding him three miniature pellets of Betta food every day (except Sat/Sun when he starves). He is generally enthusiastic about the little orange plant in his tank because, let’s be honest, it probably appears to be a BRAND NEW PLANT every time he swims by it. I am convinced that Freddie doesn't actually know he isn't in the ocean or whatever any more. I think he lives in a Nemo-utopia that I created for him.

And I want someone to create a Utopia for me.

When I was in my youth, I wanted to be a doctor. A physician. I dreamed of it. Read books I had no business reading. Fantasized about my loft in Boston down the street from Mass Gen, where I was going to be a renowned trauma surgeon. I would subsist solely on coffee which would make my physique svelte and lithe. I'd have convenient sex with street musicians when I felt lonely and I would be married to and defined by my work.

Except I didn't do that. I took the MCAT. I made a passable score. I applied to and was accepted to UAMS in Little Rock, AR. And then I panicked. Flat out, full on, pull your hair out freak out.

"Who in the fuck do you think you are? Smart people go to medical school. Not you. You didn't do any extra-curriculars...you don't know enough Cell Biology. You aren't good enough. You aren't smart enough. And let's be real...no one you know really likes you."

That was my internal monologue in 2004.

So, instead. I packed up my shit and moved home to my Gran's house. I bartended...met my juicy delicious husband. Applied to Graduate School. Got accepted. Had two kids. Got a PhD. I did the easy thing.

And it isn't that I don't like my life....I love my life. It's just not what I imagined it would be. And while the personal stuff...the husband, the kids, the house, the good sex...it's all more than I ever dreamed I wanted or deserved...the professional stuff is shockingly unfulfilling.

I go to work. I sit at a cubical, staring at Freddie and trying to make a difference in the lives of the 500 students at the University I'm at. I tried science. I wasn't very good at it. I'm not creative enough or driven enough, frankly. So I fell back into teaching and figured I'd try and be an administrator to elicit change in a positive direction. But I'm not the boss...so everything I try and do for the kids gets vomited back into my face by some asshole corporate monkey at our corporate office saying that it isn't cost effective. Then I sit in 3 hour meetings listening to a bunch of middle aged white men telling me they don't have enough time to do their jobs and I just want to SCREAM at them and tell them how god-damned lazy and stupid and inefficient they are. Because I'm a giant in the land of Lilliputians here. And I was once a midget trying to keep up with the big kids...So I'm frustrated. Who isn't? Jobs everywhere suck. I just want my job to be more satisfying than it is infuriating. I want some balance back.

So I envy Freddie #4. I envy his silent satisfaction. I envy his lack of awareness of his place in this world. I envy his position of helplessness where someone else feeds him and loves him and makes sure his tank isn't full of shit.

I've got to clean my own tank. And I'm just not sure how to do that.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Cubical Warfare

I work in a shared office. I share this office with about 20 people. Before I was demoted for having a vagina and for not being 50 just yet, I had an office all to myself...it was blissful...I digress. In said office, I have hung the things that have been re-homed from days when I had a modicum of respect on my cubical wall. I have a fish, a few photos, a calendar, a few drawings from the kids. Good stuff. The thing is...I work beside a dude who will NOT get off the phone. Every single day it goes like this: "Hi, Marjorie? This is INSERT NAME HERE. I was calling....hmmmmm hmmm har har har...well, you see, I have a silly question. I got this phone, you see, and I was told that the data plan was included in the price of the phone and now I'm getting charged for data and I was hoping you might extend your kindness to me and explain what data actually is." Awkward pause. "Oh, thank you for your kindness." Another awkward pause for Marjorie to gag and transfer him to the supervisor she hates most. "Hello? Yes. No, I'm sorry, I apologise, I can't hear you so well...ah, yes, that's better....(grating donkey laugh/inhale....like one long bray) This is INSERT NAME HERE. I was calling....hmmmmm hmmm har har har...well, you see, Marjorie was very helpful, but perhaps you can help me.... I have a silly question. I got this phone, you see, and I was told that the data plan was included in the price of the phone and now I'm getting charged for data and I was hoping you might extend your kindness to me and explain what data actually is." 10 minute pause. Just long enough for me to believe this madness is over. Extensive change in tone. "No, sir. I did not want to get a data plan. I understand that I bought the top of the line smartphone because I'm a pompous asshole and I have to bankrupt myself getting everything top of the line even though I'm teaching instead of practicing medicine except that I like to pull out the MD card....Wait - I digress...sorry. "No, sir. I didn't want to get a data plan unless it was included in the price of the phone as the lady on the phone said it was. No, I do NOT want the data plan. I should be able to browse the internet with my messaging plan." Awkward pause. "Maybe you should define "data" for me." Donkey laugh. "Ah, I see, well...please cancel the data plan for me. You see, I'm a physician who teachers here at XXXXXXXXXXXXX...so I'm always sitting at a computer so I can get on the internet. I recently [3 years ago] moved from Florida and I'm helping my daughter out during a troubled time [unspecified amount of time] and I thank you for your kindess sir. Thank you so much. Thank you. I was also hoping to talk with you about how I can get access to the internet on my phone....." And it will continue. For HOURS. Then he'll call his cable company, a car rental agency...anyone with whom who he can have a 45 minute circular conversation about nothing. We generally like this man. He's sweet, in a grating and saccharine sort of way. But the constant tilting at windmills, on a company phone, in a shared office. I cannot handle it. Reason #1 that I MUST find another job.

Gender Roles and Why Your Husband Hates that Sweater


I know what your husband or boyfriend or both wants for Christmas and it isn’t a monogrammed sweater vest for him to wear to your family Christmas party. You see, men, in particular married men, don’t actually give a shit about anything that you care about.

In point of fact: I am married to one of the world’s most sensitive and enlightened men and HE doesn’t want that stupid sweater. My two best friends are men. My children are men. I live in a sausage factory. That makes me an expert. So listen up:

Your husband/boyfriend/whatever wants one of the following three things for Christmas/Birthday/Insert Your Favorite Holiday:

1.Sex of some sort
2.A Saturday to do nothing but scratch himself and watch some sort of sport
3.An entire week without you asking him to do something stupid
Let me clarify: something stupid is anything that isn’t listed in numbers 1-3.

So ladies, seriously, get a girlfriend. Quit trying to make your husband/boyfriend/whatever fill that role. By definition, a man is NOT a woman. Enjoy lady time with the ladies. Enjoy man time with your men.

And gentlemen, if you want a lady to treat you like a man, for God’s sake, start treating her like a lady. Gender roles are in place because they make sense. If you want her to give you guy time, open doors, put your hand on the small of her back, change the toilet paper roll, protect her in a bar, and for GOD’S SAKE, quit grooming yourself in front of her. If you’re going to be the alpha, you’d better get really good at it because women in the 21st century are fucking amazing. If you want to rule your roost, do it…but you’d better do it right. And ladies…quit emasculating them. If you want a quality goose, quit cutting off his balls.

Jesus, I loathe the 21st century feminism/gender politics/political correctness.

Just saying.



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