She Doesn’t Have a Mouth (Get It?)

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Not actually my hair.  But close.

Starting to gather up some ideas for Christmas gifts and actually buy them rather than just think about buying them.  I won’t mention my plan for my older sister, and my younger sister is a bit of a debate because she wants audiobooks and I’m thinking about getting her this Brene Brown book but at the same time, I haven’t read this book, and it’s only based on the TEDTalk that I think she would get something out of it and it’s a bit of a loaded gift, but not AS loaded as my second choice.  Bad Feminist.  To she and her boyfriend’s friends, I’m a feminist, but I’m not allowed to talk about it around her boyfriend because it might become a thing.  Not that he dictates what we can and can’t talk about, but if we talk about it, it will…become a thing.  We will have debate it to the last man or woman standing and I don’t really have suitcases and footlockers full of data regarding feminism to bring to bear on this sort of gatling gun approach.    Not that he’s a big jerk, either, I mean, he bought me The Second Sex as a Christmas present last year.

I don’t talk about feminism at all, really, though I claim it as a part of the general philosophy that guides my life, I believe in it.  When I question that, I think back to an essay I wrote in high school entitled “Big Mouthed Women” which was when I was reading Bust and with a lot of literature that foregrounded feminist concerns even if I didn’t have terminology to really explicate my opinions.  It was more emotional than anything else.  I think the main thrust of the essay was “Hello Kitty doesn’t even have a mouth, SEEEEEEEEEEEEE?! GET IT!!!!!!!!!!!!”

We are not allowed to talk about Elizabeth Warren, though, because she is, in her way, destroying capitalism.

Mainly, I really want to read these books and am trying to justify buying them since I imagine – if not outright know –  they will sit on my shelf until their pages yellow before I ever crack them open and it will just create more guilt I don’t need.

Work was, as predicted, good.
We had a really nice meal all together at a burger bar that was a second choice after realizing that the restaurant we picked was not open when it was expected.  I even called to make a reservation and was told we wouldn’t need one and it would be fine at noon so I felt a bit like an idiot even though it was entirely unavoidable on my part. I ate the parmesan truffle fries with what could only be described as uncouth abandon.  The burger was great. The fries were great and I devoured them as though there was a sign on the door that they would never be made again after today.  A fire sale meal.
I am continuing to be distracted, forgiving myself for it, and trying to push ahead all at the same time.
It’s been a day.

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