Lacking the proper equipment?

I had a moral victory and loss at the same time earlier this week when I started talking to my father about my car. For as long as I can remember, he and my mom have kept track of their mileage and how much they spend on gas, and when I moved out, I stopped keeping track. The numbers are useless to me, and it's a waste of time to write down useless information. When I moved back home and my dad started checking my fluids for me again, he asked, "Where's the little mileage book?"

"Fell out somewhere in Nebraska, I guess," I lied.

I realized then that if I was living under his roof, I should probaby follow his rules. Except this past week, I got angry that I was writing this down every time I stopped to fill up. I don't care if I paid 2.669/gallon two months ago and 2.179/gallon last week. It's inconsequential.

So I told my dad, "I need to talk to you about something. You know my mileage? I don't care. It's my car, it's in my name, I pay the insurance, and I don't care about tracking my mileage. I will write down when I put in oil and check fluids, but I don't want to write down my mileage anymore."

He acquiesed. Victory! Then I asked my next question, "Can you show me how to change my oil?"

He hesitated. "You need tools," he started saying. "A jack and stands."

I was like, "You have that stuff, and I still live here..." but felt more like saying, "You mean I don't have a penis."

His response? "I could show S how to do that."

Defeat.

I wanted to yell, "But it's not his responsibility! And he isn't mechanical! And what do I do when he dumps me for someone hotter who knows how to change her own oil?!" but I didn't. Instead, I rolled my eyes. "Eve knows how to change her own oil," I told him, using the logic of school children.

"Since we use high-grade oil, I only change it once a year," was his next response.

Sometime this year, I'm going to watch him do it, and take notes.

More on "Get to Work," my personal/political life

Since I read Linda R. Hirshman's "Get to Work" on Sunday, it seems like every thing I do is political. If I wipe the counter in the kitchen and I know the crumbs aren't mine, I think, Why the heck am I doing this? Or while hanging up my dad's laundry, or picking up my sister's shoes, I'm thinking, Goddammit, I don't want to do this for the rest of my life. Is that what I'm doomed to if I get married and want kids? Ridiculous.

I don't want to take Hirshman's words as gospel truth, but I see her point, I see how my options aren't really options, how whatever I "choose" wouldn't really be a "choice," how feminism hasn't come far enough, into families and marriages. I see how whoever makes the money has the power. I see the woman caring more about housework and losing out more in an imaginary divorce and then doing the (completely valueless) work herself. I don't want that to be me.

I want to be loved and adored by a man, but I also want my meaningful work. And I know my work is important, and I know it's not high-powered and hugely money making the way Hirshman defines success, but it's quite possible that I could make more money than my future husband. I've got eight years of library work under my belt, and I don't plan on giving it up for anything, especially not with the graduate degree under way.

I want what I want, and I don't want to have to try to fit into some Boundless Christian wife model. I'm a believer in Jesus, but I don't feel that this means my husband's work takes precedence over my work. I could care less about the "biblical model," as Candice Watters calls it, when it comes to my resume vs. his.

That's when I just get pissed off, the way I can tell Linda Hirshman got pissed off, and I want to scream and have every woman who's in college read this book as part of that "Life Skills 401" class I think should be offerred at the end of everyone's senior year. Because this is life-changing stuff, and it's everyone's business.

And now, on my one day off this week, wherin I work nearly 40 hours and do graduate school homework and my own laundry and cooking, I am going to attend noon mass at the Cathedral.

I wanna pack cute little lunches for my Brady bunches...

Gonna be totally honest here: serious conversations with my boyfriend about kids freak me out. He wants them—sometime, in a vague sort of life goal desire way, probably within the next ten years—whereas I am all, a human freaking being inside of my body? Like that's ever gonna happen, buddy.

I read enough (gag) "mommy blogs" (ungag) to know that motherhood has its ups and downs and it's rewarding and stressful and blah blah blah. Maybe I am just 25 and totally normal in not having an urge to be a mother anytime soon. But in a vague, oh, sure, possibly... in the future, yeah, I kind of do. What the heck? Ah, crap. Labor is one day and kids are the next generation, so it's probably worth it.

I really miss my boyfriend. I don't think I can express it any better than that. I know it's not like he's in Iraq and I can't ever talk to him, and I'm not whining, because heavens to betsey I am just blessed to even have a guy who calls when he says he will and adores me and has meaningful conversations with me. I just miss him, is all, this incredible man who can handle my anxiety and love me all the more for it.

P.S. I also really want a dog.

"Get To Work" and trying to get to work

Doesn't surprise me at all that a writer for Boundless has something to say about this same book that I just wrote about. Linda Hirshman is at least getting men and women alike to think about these issues, whether they are personal or political. I guess every life choice can be seen as both. Every major decision I make in my life has ramifications, however small, for every other woman, and every other man the same.

Oddly enough, I had a job interview today. No real idea of how it went, but I see job interviews as practice if nothing else. I can choose to see them as scary and stressful, or I can decide that it's totally out of my hands and that I've got to relinquish any feeling of control over a situation to the creator of this universe, because ulimately, I have all of absolutely no control over anything except what I wear and do or say to make me look either good or bad during an interview process. Plus, I think I'm a pretty cool person, a pretty excellent employee and co-worker (for the most part, haven't heard too many complaints or had any backstabbing happening at any of my jobs) and I think that comes out in an interview.

Pretty much unconcerned...

I heard Linda Hirshman on Minnesota Public Radio this morning, talking about that book. I was intrigued, so I requested it from the library. In hearing her arguments on MPR, I kind of had the attitude of "meh, whatever." Her argument is basically that staying home and raising children is not a meaningful life in the way that she defines it.

Her last example in the book is apparently a husband and wife who are both doctors. The woman works family practice part time, takes care of the children the rest of the time. The man works 70+ hours a week in a hospital, taking care of children with cancer while also looking for a cure for children's cancer. In the marriage, they are clearly both doing meaningful work, both have advanced degrees, but whereas the woman has time to dote on her children, the man doesn't. He wrote to Linda Hirshman saying he felt guilty about this. Hirshman's response? He might never find the cure for cancer, but his wife certainly never will.

Ouch.

Whether I will get married or not is up in the air at this point, but let's say, for the sake of thinking about this rationally, that I continue to date S and also continue with my advanced degree, and that S and I get married at some point, and I finish my degree.

First of all, S fully supports my desire to become a librarian. I know that he, in fact, loves that I am in graduate school. He sees me as his intellectual equal, especially if he goes on to get another degree or two, depending on whatever his calling may be. S encourages me in my studies, and is proud of me.

Second, I do not know if S and I would be blessed with children, but children are the stuff of formation. Obviously, right now I am rather selfish, look out for my own needs and desires and possibly my future husband's needs and desires, but overall, I want what I want. This may mean a certain level of freedom, but parenthood is life altering. I can understand some people not wanting to alter their lives in such a way. There would be times of frustration, but I think it would ultimately be incredibly rewarding to be parents.

Third, "my chosen career" is almost completely compatible with family life. Librarians tend to be women, and employers are flexible to a certain extent. Hours in public libraries tend to be either part time or little more than 40-hours in an exempt position. There are many ways of having library experience that don't include high-stress positions. I can always volunteer, work part-time, serve on a board, or audit courses to keep my resumé fresh to protect my job opportunities in case of divorce or widowhood.

Fourth, S is an enlightened sort of man. He would not expect me to stay home all the time with our brood unless I wanted to, and has said he is willing to stay home with children if I am the primary breadwinner. He is A-OK with this idea. I have asked specifically about this, and I feel a spirit of support and compromise in my relationship with this man. He is not there to undermine my career or keep me in the kitchen.

So I plan to read Linda Hirshman's manifesto and see what it's about, but I feel very comfortable with what my life could be like in the coming years.

Listening to Nellie McKay after having the album since May

Not exactly, but sort of. I don't buy all of the "called to singleness" arguments. It works as a good excuse to hide behind and not actively look for anyone to marry, but it doesn't take away the desire for a spouse. I certainly want to be married eventually, and I don't hide that desire from anyone except possibly specific extended family members who would then overly quiz and query me. I definitely do not hide it from my boyfriend. So, we'll see. But I like that song, and the sentiment it expresses. And guess who told me about Ms. McKay to begin with?

+10 points for anyone who guesses 19th letter of the alphabet!