FreeWill

Just one week ago - last Sunday - it was so easy. I ran four miles and it felt so good. My body felt strong, my lungs felt clear and I was certain my belly felt smaller.

Then one bad run the next day. I blamed it on the dog. I was trying to run faster and she wouldn't have it. We fought and I wasted my energy. Then I skipped a day followed by two days of half-assed running while I was trying to retrain my dog.

Food came into play. I made fudge. I bought Dr. Pepper. And drank it. I bought candy. (Christmas candy came out. What was I supposed to do?) Then a day of gluttony. I ate 'til I hurt. And I drank and otherwise treated my body like shit.

Then another day of running skipped. That takes me to yesterday. Two miles in my side cramps. A cramp? What the hell? That hasn't happened in years. I don't cramp up while running. I told myself to run through it. Um,no. That doesn't work. So I walked and grew annoyed that my run was ruined, but figured I could get back on track today.

The Rexius trail. Three and a half miles. Mid-day. Sun. All stretched out. I could tell myself it was the soggy trail (it really was soggy.) I could tell myself it was the bulky sweatshirt I wore, but I'm not. I had to stop to walk twice because I sucked. No more excuses. Not allowed.

My rules:

You will not make excuses.
You will not skip running if you have planned on it.
You will run at least three miles at least four times a week.
You will not buy (or eat) any candy until Christmas.
You will not have more than one Dr. Pepper a week.
You will not have more than one alcoholic drink in an evening and no more than two in one week until Christmas.
You will take only one non-sweet snack with you to the holiday market.
You will not let a boy sleeping over mess up your exercise routine.
You will go to yoga tonight and you will ride your bike there.

I'm not kidding with you, Melinda. This is serious. You're in your 30's and you had a bad year. Fix it.

Somedays you just know you're hot.

Even when you're walking around with a bag of dog poop.

My truck drives me crazy - as in annoys me, makes me upset crazy. Its stiff clutch, its poor gas milage, its purplness.

The rugged, dented, noisy dark blue pick up with a white canopy that just drove around the corner drives me crazy too - the excited little tingle between my legs and twitter in my belly kind of crazy.

I'll admit it - beat up pick up trucks turn me on. Not the painter's work truck - but the woodsman's reliable companion. Four wheel drive preferred. Toyotas always provide an extra thrill.

They speak to a life, to a freedom, to an adventure.

An old Nissan passed me as I walked. Silver once, run down to a dull grey. Robin's egg speckled canopy. Idaho licence plates. Bicycle roped to the top along with some unexplained wooden device. I want to chase after it like a girl chasing her lover as he speeds away on a train, waving my handkerkief.

I don't know what's inside other than a possibility.

"Run, little elk, run," I yelled knowing full well that elk are not little and that there was nowhere for them to run.

They didn't hear me. The elk. They couldn't hear me from where I was sitting in the back of my truck. I didn't even know where they were. The elk. Neither did the endless stream of oversized men and women in camouflage and face paint carrying either a quite complicated bow and arrow set or the standard issue gun.

This isn't where I intended to go, but all this brings me to the question: why are so many hunters fat? Granted, more Americans are inflated than not, but why so disproportionate to the hunters?

Obviously, they're outdoorsy. But, obviously, they like to eat. But, also, obviously, they like to work for their food. Though perhaps, the rest of their food comes from Safeway like the rest of us. And not all of them eat their kill. I once knew a Seventh Day Adventist who was a vegetarian by faith and a hunter for sport and thus did not eat his prey. But then he was one of those rare non-fat hunters.

Anyway, back to where I was going. ... Where was it I was going?

The most dangerous things to encounter in the woods of the western U.S. according to Melinda Mary:

1. Tweaker
2. Grizzly bear
3. Mama bear with cubs
4. Moose (really, they're quite dangerous)
5. Overzealous hunter
6. Hungry black or brown bear
7. Rattlesnake
8. Pot plantation guard
9. Elk (elk can do things; all kinds of things)
10. Solo well-fed black or brown bear
11. Raccoon (they're kindof creepy)

*Wolverine must be mentioned somewhere, though I think they're only likely to be found in Alaska and, really, who ever thinks of a wolverine? I guess I would were one attacking me.

** Add 'rabid' to any of 3-11 and it will move automatically up to #2. Add 'rabid' to 'grizzly bear' and it moves to #1. Add 'rabid' to 'tweaker' and it remains #1.

*** What I'm truly afraid of when I'm out in the woods by myself, especially when it gets dark and a thin layer of plastic and mesh separates me from out there, is monsters.

Even my fantasy is filled with pain.

I dream of a disaster. A natural disaster. A plague. A war. Probably a combination of all three. Three quarters of the human population is wiped out. Maybe closer to 90%. You know the scene; we've all read it in stories and seen it in movies. Civilization as we know it is gone.

Everyone has lost the people they love. Everyone left knows what it's like to suffer, to lose, to be afraid, to be alone. Everyone left must contemplate their existence. Everyone left must have had a conscious realization about life. Everyone left has had to make the choice to go on and has had to decide how they are going to go about living. There is no one left on the planet who is not living consciously. Whether they choose to live a noble community life or spend their time pillaging, I respect all who are left because they know pain and have willed themselves to make a life for themselves.

Life becomes primal. Finding food, shelter, and safety are the only objectives.

As time goes on, strangers have banded together. I'm part of a group - some people I knew before, most I did not. It doesn't matter; we've come together for a common purpose and to find meaning in our new lives. We're all strong because only the strong have survived. The weak of mind and body are mostly gone. The weak who happened to make it through the disaster will not last long - no one can afford to care for the weak. They will be cast out and will not be able to fend for themselves. They will die or they will kill themselves. If nothing else, they will not breed. Evolution will take its course. The population has been cleansed.

I relish the hard work. This I'm comfortable with. I understand a day filled with physical labor. I understand working in the dirt. This makes so much more sense to me than sitting at a computer, than sitting in an air conditioned office, than creating material or electronic nothingness for the sake of keeping a population of billions running around pretending that their lives have meaning.

It's all a cliche. Go back to the Earth. Back to the basics. The weak - the sinners - have been redeemed through death. Or sent to the fires of hell. Either way, their suffering is over. I will be redeemed through work, through survival.

Sometimes I feel I was born in the wrong time in the wrong place. I'm not made for this life of frivolities. The spoiled, the isolated, the unconscious. I amoung them. I feel weak. I will find my strength in apocalypse.

I wonder how I come across to people. I wonder if I'm an ass. Or standoffish. Or something. I think I try to be kind to people. I'm a nice person. I treat people much better than I've ever been treated. I wonder if that's my downfall. I wonder if I were an ass like most other people if I would have more friends. Or better friends. I wonder if I should just stop trying to have friends. It's better than trying and being shot down. Done.

In unrelated, or perhaps related events, these are some of the possible afflictions associated with my ongoing throat problem:

Allergic reaction
Laryngitis
Tonsillitis
Strained voice (vocal chords)
Drug allergy
Generalized anxiety disorder
Panic attack
Acute stress reaction
Asthma (teen and adult)
Heartburn/GERD
Medical reaction or side effect
Viral pharyngitis
Anaphylactic shock
Goiter
Emphysema
Lung cancer (non small cell)
Lung cancer (small cell)
Mononucleosis
Sjogren's syndrome

I'm going to go out on a limb and eliminate goiter, asthma, emphysema and both forms of lung cancer. Well, maybe I should keep one.

Really, I think it may be time to see a doctor.

me: You put the "thunder" in thunderstorm
9:28 PM J: you put the "pit" in "precipitation"
9:29 PM hey are you in gmail
me: I live in gmail
J: hooray for online storage
anyway LOOKOUT V.v.V
9:30 PM OMG LOBSTERS
me: V.v.V.
oh, I love it
J: little lobster, who made thee?
me: I made thee, little lobsters
worship me
9:31 PM what else do you know?
can you make a helicopter?
J: it's a roflcopter, and yes
me: rofl yourself
wait, you already do
9:32 PM J: ooooh burn
i think
me: I'm not so sure either
9:34 PM me: now what?
can I talk?
9:38 PM J: ok now turn on your webcam
and microphone
9:39 PM me: i don't have a microphone
what's going on?
i'm so confused?
am i confused?
you type loud
I can hear you
I'm talking
yes
9:40 PM you can't hear me?
what?
no?
no
I'm talking even though i know you can't hear me
i'm a reject
9:41 PM perfect
it won't let me see video
how do I get a microphone?
J: goodwill
me: great
J: or cheat, plug some headphones into the mic jack
and talk into them
me: you can talk; I can hear you
J: it works
me: this could be so much fun
9:42 PM $30??!!
a what?
J: you could have a vlog
a vlog
V.v.V
me: I got it
J: rofl
copter
me: I wish you could hear me
I'm talking
J: insane
insane
insane
me: you're insane
9:43 PM you set me up on this knowing I didn't have a microphone or camera
user
because you're not in my bedroom
should I hang up and call again?
9:44 PM my video is crossed off
it won't let me see you
J: well, i can see me
me: there you are
I see you
hi
I waved back
9:45 PM I am
J: insane x 2!!!
me: it's quite frustrating
who's insane again?
J: 2!!! == 2
sadly
me: I want it
!!!
ha ha
9:46 PM this could be so much more fun
now it's just kindof weird
computer sex?
isn't that what it's for?
who are you having computer sex with
I know why you got the camera
J: my laptop
9:47 PM me: without a sex toy?
your laptop camera?
they're the same thing
indeed
i feel like a mute
9:48 PM is this weird for you?
no, me seeing you; you talking; me not being able to
wow
we're moving
I feel it
feels like I'm falling
9:49 PM are we going to the kitchen?
are you taking me to the bathroom?
3 hours??!!
9:50 PM beautiful
i'll have to see it in person
oooo
ten dollars??!!
this is driving me insane
yes
tomorrow
9:51 PM microphone at least
what are you eating?
lucky
silly boy
nice and clean
9:52 PM yeah, that kicking out part
that's tough
it's perfect for you
for the lack of vagina?
yeah ...
9:53 PM now this is annoying me too much
of course you are
too much
I can do that
9:54 PM I'll look
9:55 PM too bad
what says you?
9:58 PM i'm watching you
without sound
creepy
9:59 PM ohh
red ...
my favorite
noooooo
J: V.v.V
me: lobster boy
10:00 PM do you find it weird that I'm watching you?
10:01 PM why am I watching you?
i'm a watcher
i want your dots
your dots
not those dots
10:02 PM V.v.V
i'm gonna start random lobsterings
hmmm
are you listening to rap?
10:03 PM J: yes
yes i am
unless it's on public radio
me: ahh
J: and i'm too lazy to change it
me: yeah, that's what it's about
lazy lazy
10:04 PM J___ rocks the party
oh yeah
J___ rocks the party
J: MC elegans
me: mc ellegance
J: in da house
me: elegans
10:05 PM ellegance is better
eligance
elligant
you suck
aubergine
french
what are you browsing
10:06 PM ?
Oh, I know a good one
:)
10:07 PM OH no I lost you
10:08 PM did not agree to what?
you know what this reminds me of?
the telephone
10:09 PM no, the ringing and the dots
yeah
I'm not!!
I did take a nap though
yeah
how'd it go?
10:10 PM he did?
how's it doing?
your pride?
yeah
10:11 PM powerful
Roger and yo uhad beers?
10:12 PM ahhh
yep
how's your baby?
Joe!
10:13 PM Go Joe!
Isn't he gone yet?
Drunk signing
bad news
10:14 PM :(
your stories are great
i'm rivited
or a river
I'm a river!
You're a lake
10:15 PM Good thing you're a man
no one has to put their penis in you
flesh eating bacteria
inside you
10:16 PM no. but you do
I've seen some
flesh eating bacteria
are you drinking?
now?
why not?
me too!!!
I know
I'm laughing
ha ha

Something weird happened. I went to look at my flickr page and noticed that my first page of pictures had had an extremely large amount of views since the last time I had logged in - even the very dull ones. I hadn't even posted anything new in about a week.

It seemed odd so I went to look at my overall photo stats. [You - Your stats] 3,577 views yesterday! Of those, 95% were directed there from an unknown source. Odd. On a high view day, I may get two or three hundred views. Then on one day, ten times that amount? From somewhere on the internet that I don't even know of. Very odd.

If they were my typically highly viewed pictures - hot springs and country fair, I would understand better. But the most viewed pictures were of flowers, my foot, guitar strings, Nathaniel and a couple other random things. A sunflower got top views with 56 views. Of a sunflower??? I think it's a great picture and I'm happy people are finally enjoying my flower shots, but really, that much?

There were a couple of comments from a person I didn't know, but there's nothing odd about that. I'm sure it wasn't him viewing my photostream 3,577 times.

Odd. Just odd.

It's a day of relief and a celebration of success and accomplishment and of the end of 15 months of hell. It's also a day I dread. I've woke up in the middle of the night every night for at least a week and tried to toss and turn the knot out of my stomach. What will become of me after graduation?

I have a little over a month to find a teaching job or else it's nothing until next year. Do I look for a non-teaching job and give up on a teaching job? Should I leave Eugene even if I don't have a job elsewhere? Can I afford to leave Eugene? Am I willing to move to Roseburg? What about to suburban hell?

Mostly, on August 16 I want to pack up my truck and disappear into the woods for a couple of weeks. Or a couple of months. Or a couple of years. Sadly, that just isn't an option right now. There's that little window of time for finding that teaching job and, frankly, I've never been as broke as I am right now when you factor in how far in debt I am.

Come August 16 I have no reason to get up in the morning. No one to check in with everyday. It'll just be me floating around trying to figure out what to do. It's tough going through this life alone. Not that I'd have it any other way. As much as I hate it, I love knowing I can make it without any help from anyone.

But then I think of the very real things I can't do by myself, like move. I just can't get my mattress in and out of a a u haul by myself. It's fine; I can make it on my own; I just need someone to grab the other end of my desk. Oh, big picture, small details.

I'll be okay eventually, I suppose. But now? Right now? Right now I'm frickin' freaked out.

But, in happier news, there should be enough ripe blackberries in the school yard to make a pie by next week.

I finished the book.

Nathaniel and I were reading the Golden Compass (actually His Dark Materials) trilogy aloud to each other. We raced through book one and book two, reading at every stop as we wandered around town, reading a chapter before bed, a chapter over tea and large chunks while we camped and as we drove across the vast high deserts of Oregon and Nevada.

I was anxious for book three to find out the fate of all the worlds, but our pace slowed as our lives became more hectic. We were about a third of the way through when we first broke up. I put the book aside with a marker in its place. I renewed it once, twice from the library. Nathaniel and I got back together. We read a few chapters. We split up. I took it back to the library when my renewals ran out, but I checked it out again two days later. I didn't read it. When Nathaniel and I couldn't stay apart we read to each other again.

Eleven days ago we sat in the park and broke up once again. I had the book in my backpack. Nathaniel said nonchalantly, okay, let's read. I said no. And then a whole bunch of other nasty things. Hurt and sensing the severity of this finale, Nathaniel walked away. Defiantly, I took out the book and began to read on my own.

This evening I walked to the river and lay in the grass reading for almost two hours until the book was finished. I cried near the end, maybe because the book was sad, but maybe not. I cried softly as I started my walk home. But my tears could not survive the true sign of summer happiness. In an alley holding up a short fence in front of a tattered house was a patch of blackberry bushes. On those bushes were five or six plump ripe berries. Greedily, I took them all. A couple were sour, but I saved the juiciest for last so I could savor the taste in my mouth. I smiled and picked up pace. Tomorrow I'll return the book to the library.

I almost began taking pictures off of my walls. I realized I needed packing supplies to tuck them away safely so I didn't.

I want boxes. I want to take my books from their shelves and prepare them to go.

Go where? I don't know, but it's time to go.

I feel like a visitor in this town. I have no where I belong here. It's become so lonely. I wander around and there's no where to go. No where do I feel welcome.

I already miss what I want to leave. But what I miss doesn't really exist anymore. It's all become so distant. Everything and everyone has moved on. I've already been written out. I'm a character on the stage without any lines.

I'm Stoppards's Guildenstern wandering around Shakespeare's Hamlet. I belong there, but I was recreated in another form that doesn't quite fit with the rest. Everyone is concerned with ghosts and Denmark and I'm just absurd.

Okay, don't really know where I'm going with that metaphor... other than the absurdity.

Monday morning I woke at 6:30, a few minutes before my alarm would have normally gone off. But there was no buzzer set so I rolled over and let myself fall back to sleep. A couple hours later I lay in bed wondering why I should get up. What on Earth should I do with my day?

Tea. Sure, tea is something to do. Eager to get as far away from my house as I could, I packed my books and journal and headed across town to the Wandering Goat. I scanned the clientele as I passed in search of a parking spot and almost drove right home. Of course, sitting outside the coffee shop had to be Cheyenne. You know Cheyenne - my first crush in this town who I have failed over and over again to connect with. I'd almost forgotten about him and only wanted to keep driving to avoid awkward chit chat.

I parked and sighed and went to see what my day had in store for me. Tea, indeed, and a cinnamon roll. And awkward chit chat. So it goes. After nine months of isolation, of endless obligations and work and days where I couldn't find time to cook a frozen pizza, I had returned to my little, leisurely, laid back Eugene.

Everything is still here and all the same, right down to the same people popping up in the same places.

After nine months learning another world and six months of complete hell, I've found myself with time again in this little town I call home.

I've been active: going for long walks, riding my bike around town and taking my dog up the butte just because it's there. I've slept: 9-10 hours a night plus those afternoon naps that I love so much. I've been sitting in the park reading My Antonia. I've scribbled some nonsense in my journal. I've walked to the natural food store for two pieces of fruit, stopping by the pet store for one dog treat on the way home. I've found time to not just cook a frozen pizza, but prepare entire meals (okay, one partial meal, but it's a start).

And I've found time to be sad. And to feel the gravity of my future and the pressure to make it happen. To mourn. To realize how much I was in love and couldn't make it work. To become restless. To feel lonely, but not want to be around anyone.

Yesterday as I summitted the butte a lone man sat watching me make my way. The shaggy hair and sweet nervous smile drew me in. We exchanged the 'I want to talk to you - You want to talk to me' look and I joined him. The stranger and I talked. We discussed the weather, the squirrels, his desire to drop out of acupuncture school, my dead parents, a Volvo trying to make it to Seattle and a dried-up lake in Eastern Oregon. We shared water and a smoke. I laughed without feeling self-conscious.

Today as I walked my dog through the park I spotted two young women from my church. I turned the other way and tried to disappear. I wanted to be visible only to strangers.

So, here I have returned to my Eugene summers: aimless wanderings to find like-minded strangers while avoiding chit chat with those acquaintances that you can't hide from in this little town. Throw in a rambling blog on live journal and I have me to deal with again. Oh, dear me.

*NOT schizophrenia

- detached manner with the inability to express emotion (especially anger) or a restricted emotional range

- have an artificial way of relating to others

- keep people at a distance

- seem unaffected by criticism

- shallow emotions

- incapable of involved, intimate human relationships

- "love made hungry" fail to develop attachments because the voraciousness of their needs for affection runs the risk of becoming uncontrollable

- not a problem of an inability to form or maintain relationships; rather, a problem of being able to be in a relationship without constantly experiencing a compelling need to remain apart from it

- aloof superiority occurs alongside feelings of being rejected

- difficulty expressing wishes or interests

- problem interpreting others' behavior

- shallow insight into self and others' motives or psychological states

- don't care about gaining interpersonal skills

- lack of close friends

I know I've always been a little different, but I never wanted to be different in the snotty kind of way. I don't want to set myself apart as an elitist. If there's one thing I love to rant about it's elitists. But I believe elitism is in how one acts, treats, or perceives other people.

So ...

I've never been a big movie fan. Most of them suck; they just do. I can't handle them. I don't have any thing against people who enjoy them. I've just never really understood how people can sit and watch the mundane mainstream propaganda (which is what it comes down to) that maintains our social structure. See, now I'm sounding elitist. But I really don't have a problem with people who enjoy these movies. I wish the people who made movies were more innovative and challenged people more.

But let me get to my point. So, I saw the new Star Trek movie today and, while I recognized the inherent fun and campy-ness of pulling from a retro t.v. show, I thought it was pretty horrible. Horrible acting. Horrible characters. Stereotypical macho male. Predictable plot. A whole lot of cheesy-ness. Typical American social themes: defending family honor, rebel male turned leader, quirky ethnic characters. The list could go on. I could see what people like in it. It's a fun action-packed movie. I just can't buy into it.

But what I can buy into is a video of an old man standing at a podium lecturing for three hours. Captivating. I spent my Saturday night watching a taped recording of a college professor talking about the Civil War in minute details. I was riveted. I did not want to turn it off and only did so when my hand began to cramp from note taking. I sat there ooohing and aahing and ah-haing. I hung on every word and couldn't get enough. Now we're talking real entertainment.

I kindof wish I could get into movies. It's much easier to find someone to watch the latest blockbuster with than someone to watch a lecture with. I'm setting myself up for a lonely existence. I hadn't even heard of any of the upcoming movies on posters and previews at the theatre today, but I know more about the election of 1860 than any Civil War professor could hope for. I do believe I've set myself up for social failure.

Killing dogs. Seriously, do writers have to keep killing dogs? I'm not just talking Ol' Yeller or Where The Red Fern Grows, but everyone from Homer to Vonnegut insists on killing dogs to get a cheap emotion.

Granted, dogs die. They are dear to many humans and have a short life span relative to us. The death of a dog is a common theme to many people. But so is the life of a dog. I'd like to see some innovation and read a story where the dog lives. Please.

Note: A book I don't recommend: Classic Dog Stories Edited by Nancy Butler

My posture bothers me. I tell myself to sit up straight, but minutes later I'm hunched over again.

I worry about my frown. I'm going to give myself wrinkles, I tell myself, but I can't get my face to relax into a normal position.

I think I'm grieving and it's starting to turn into a depression.

I miss my mom.

As painful as our relationship was at times, my mom always loved me. There's no one in the world who loves you as unconditionally as a mother. There's no one who knows me the way my mother knew me. There are aspects of my life that no one else knows and no one ever will. Aspects that I don't even really know. And those are gone.

I'm an orphan in the world. There's no going back. There's no fixing anything. It's all up to me.

Mid afternoon, between schools or right after class, I feel like I should be talking to someone. There's something missing here. Who do I check in with now? It wasn't always convenient, but I always made those calls to my mom. Sometimes we'd say nothing, but I'd made that connection. That cord isn't just disconnected now; it's gone.

There was so much undone and unsaid. In her life as well as in our relationship.

Life is good. Things are fine. I could easily be happy, but I'm just not. I sit and stare out, slouched over with a frown on my face. Sometimes I don't feel anything. Not sad or angry or annoyed or frustrated or stressed. It's nothing. I sat in a desk at school the other day and tried simply waiting for a feeling to come to me. There was nothing. I feel blah. My mind feels blank. I'm not excited to think about anything. I feel like I have nothing to offer anyone. I feel like I have nothing to say to anyone.

I want to be myself again. Even if I'm sad or angry, I'll take that. I want to sit up straight, relax my face and ponder the mysteries of the universe. I don't know what I have to do to get there. I just don't know.

To draw on an Oprah episode from years ago, a grieving woman said that you go about living like you should and then one day you find that you are living like you should.

I'll start with fixing my posture.

4:36 What is that ache that you get behind your eyes when they're so exhausted they want to shut so badly, but the rest of you can't let them? My eyes are bleary. My eyes are weary.

4:44 My brain has developed ADD. ADHD, maybe? It's become a disciplinary problem. I need a behavior management plan for my head. Or some drugs.

4:49 If it were light or lacking frozen gusts of wind outside I'd go run until I collapsed; until my brain surrendered to physical pain. But now I resign myself to the floor where I lay my head down and let tears fall until anger takes over. Fury doesn't allow for crying. There's no crying when you're purely teeth-gnashing mad. This is the time to throw things.

5:00 Then the crash and the tears come back. More like a little whimper this time. And now I do throw things. Like a 5-year-old pouting, I toss a stuffed dog toy half-heartedly against a wall.

5:13 I'm making notes about what I need to say to people. Frantic notes. Spelled 'need' with a 'k'. "I kneed to know." These will be interesting to read after some sleep. This is why we takes notes in the middle of the night (or early morning) rather than call people or send emails.

5:21 Did you know that in Asia and the Pacific for every 1000 people, three are subjected to forced labor? That's three slaves per 1000 people.

5:23 Did you get a glimpse of the moon last night? It was the closest that a full moon has been to the Earth in 15 years. I feared the clouds would keep it from me, but alas, they broke around 11:00 momentarily and I got a peek. Now I hear rain. Gentle rain.

You see your every flaw for who you are. You relive moment after moment in your life for the mistake that it was. You realize you have not a friend in the world would notice if you disappeared for a month or two or three ... You admit just how fucking hard it is to do it all by yourself all the time.

You're alone and you're ready to be done with it all.

I'm not the kind of feminist who supports all women just because they're women. I know there are plenty of women out there who are idiots and are causing harm to our society, most notably the delightful Sarah Palin. I don't support ignorance in any form, male or female.

I recognize the power and the importance of having women in important high profile positions. I know that having a woman on a presidential ticket is inspiring some women and changing the way some girls will view their futures.

So what I wish is that women and girls out there are saying to themselves, 'I am so much smarter and better than Sarah Palin. If someone that ignorant and closed-minded can become a state Governor and make it onto the ballot for Vice President, imagine what I can do.'