el amor y futbol

futbol returns to la paz!

FIFA suspends the ban on high-altitude matches

and on a related note, i've mentioned evo's notorious quote a number of times (at least to my friends), but didn't have the exact quote or a source. fortunately, i have re-found it in reliable reference form. that is, of course, if you consider fox news a reliable reference...

pura vida

morality is a funny thing.

christy & i were talking today at p&p about "purity balls" where fathers and daughters pledge to do all they can to ensure the daughters' purity until they marry. of course, it wasn't explicitly stated what exactly they mean by "purity," but i doubt many would argue that there is an inherent sexual (or anti-sexual) connotation here. (at this point i will uncharacteristically bypass a diatribe on the problematic gender ideologies at play here, but i will simply submit the pledge as evidence).

which got me thinking. we have such a strange way of defining purity. what makes us pure, unaffected, without baggage.

the r___ wrote recently that what got him hooked on post secret was a card that said "i can't marry you because i'm still in love with a bitch."

and i think that's the kind of purity i wish i could preserve. i wish there was a way to enter a relationship and give oneself openly, freely, fully. no baggage, no expectations, no past. just two people with open minds about one another.

but that's an impossibility. we hurt each other unknowingly or unintentionally. and then we carry that pain into our future relationships. we are insecure, or guarded, or simply unwilling to be in that moment. and i sometimes wonder if maybe things weren't better in a time when people married their high school sweethearts and never looked back. fortunately, i'm too cynical to wonder for too long.

cariños

its funny how context affects perception

there are a few people from whom i enjoy hearing terms of endearment. my mom & lou, the nice, aunt kath and her daughters. also, people like cope, the gill, my wife (though its always facetiously), probably others i'm not thinking of at the moment.

and at the shore, i got a good helping of some "baby"s from someone whom i don't mind hearing it. but in a lot of cases, it drives me crazy. much like julia penelope, i find it disrespectful, and belittling.

she writes:

"that evening my phone rang, and when i answered it a woman's voice cheerily asked me if i was 'the lady of the house,' i told her no ladies lived in this house and hung up...In the Patriarchal Universe of Discourse, a lady is said to be a "term of respect." In my universe of discourse, however, it is an insult, because lady, in addition to its upperclass overtones, signals assumptions about how women should act-assumptions i find offensive and presumptuous. "ladies" behave in feminine ways: they sit with their legs crossed at the knees, they wear make-up and high heels, they tease, perm, and curl their hair, and they eat daintily. i live in a different universe of discourse, one with different assumptions, different values, and different ways of talking about the world."

(Penelope, Julia. 1990. Speaking Freely: Unlearning the Lies of the Fathers' Tongues. pp. 36-37.)

sure, she's a little off her rocker, but i think her point should be taken seriously. words like "baby" "lady" "darling" and "sweetie" are laden with cultural connotation, which in many cases denote a lack of respect and equality. i would argue that in cases of extreme familiarity and mutual endearment term calling, they can connote just the opposite--a high amount of respect and equality--but in cases in which acquaintances or even strangers are called by such words/names, i take quite a bit of pause in respecting someone who denies respect via their naming.

so, the other day i came across this article in the detroit free press , recounting obama's use of the word "sweetie" a number of times. the original name-calling can even be seen in this video:

and what i think this demonstrates is not necessarily obama's lack of respect for women, but rather the extent to which the PUD is ingrained in our language use. Of course, Althusser, Vološinov, and leapfrog would gasp to hear me assert that this language does not betray underlying ideology. This is not my argument, but what I do think is that this language is revealing ideology that is unconsciously reinscribed. Perhaps I'm being lenient because I like to keep my illinois peeps close, but mostly i just wonder if Obama is completely unaware. in any case, somebody needs to clue him in.

scammellot!!!

i had the most perfect weekend

it was spent at scammellot, with plenty of captain pabst, capitán, horseshoes, meat, black beans, fireworks, sand, and love. not to mention an overabundance of r___s. here are some notable moments

both nights i slept in a twin bed next to the r___ in his own twin bed. waking up in the mornings was so nice. we had short little discussions, and then i could fall back asleep. it was like all the joys of morning pillow talk, only without the uncomfortable aspects of sharing a bed with someone you don't sleep well with. though we did get some good vertical spooning in.

i also gave scamz his birthday present and he seemed rather pleased with it. which of course pleases me.

saturday, during my second round of horseshoes, i was having some problems. really all weekend, i was having major issues with my release. most of the time too early. sometimes too late and the shoe would fly up into the air as if i was throwing a softball in order to get some solo deep fielding practice. but the r___ kept telling me he could hear tom petty, and all that implied. i eventually obliged the requests, throwing my tank top to the ground, and immediately landing a ringer. unfortunately, that was only met with requests for me to remove my pants.

after dinner we were sitting around, and someone took the ben & jerry's out of the freezer. i simply passed it to the person to my left, who happened to be the birthday boy. he then exclaimed "the world is so full of love and happiness and then someone hands me heath bar crunch!"

and then, last night, after the strip show to lights & music, after the poker chips and batteries were cashed in, after good's goodies, after the fiend was out of commission, the r____ had headed to his twin bed, and the capitán had only a thin layer of liquid covering the bottom of the bottle, we took some candles to the beach, and cowered against the wind. i tried to lean on scamz to give a little head-to-shoulder nuzzle, but instead gave a soft, loving head-but. in many ways, that describes our relationship to a T.

so, i had a nice uneventful drive home, and a peaceful day all around.

then the republican emailed me. basically chastising me for not responding in a while. which is true, and probably not the nicest thing ever, but its totally killed my post-scammellot glow (well, not literally, the cheeks are still quite pink) and i just want to say look dude. its shit like this that makes me not respond. but i'm too nice and i'll write something apologetic shortly, and hope that no one hates me. but really, what's so bad about being hated? dwt once told me i'm too benign for anyone to hate. which i took as a compliment. mostly because that backhanded sort of compliment is the only way dwt gives them. but now i wish i had a bit more fire in me. a bit more spunk. oh well. i'll deal with it in the morning.

numeros

i guess everyone has lucky numbers.

56 was mine since the 5th grade. not for any particular reason, i just decided on it one day.

but there are other numbers that, like certain songs, get so scratched into my soul.

i was just taking notes on a book, and wrote down "page 111." 111 was our brownie troop number. the other day i caught the clock at 4:09. there are other numbers like 309, 473, 847, and 312 that cause my ears to perk up. even numbers like 302, 912, 221 and the others like them bring pause. and then there's 12, the number that was always on my back. numbers like 51 and 136, and even 74 are deeply embedded as soothing in my mind.

there are many more numbers that have a special association, and i'm sure there will continue to be new ones. i guess its just one more example of the way things are intertextual, even on a very simple level. numbers, names, smells, places, phrases, songs....the tiny pieces that make up "Memory."

musica catolica en bolivia

npr did a story on youth orchestras in bolivia playing baroque music, influenced by chiquitano culture. pretty interesting. though they refer to it as "tropical" and i'm pretty sure that's neither literally accurate nor figuratively. just rainy i suppose. but after reading Turino's Moving Away From Silence recently, this is especially interesting. 

telephonos son malos

so, my first morning of not really having to be up at any particular time was rudely ruined by a weed whacker outside my bedroom window at the lovely time of 7:30 am. i eventually gave up trying to sleep and got some stuff done. i eventually made it to school with the graded exams, and found a nice stack of books in my mailbox, along with a graded paper from the vandy gill. both the books and paper were a pleasant surprise. lots of andean fun. and even a reproductive health book in there too.

later i was supposed to swing by her apartment to pick up some stuff, but her phone was off, so the plan went amiss, and i didn't talk to her until i was already at the dinner party. we made a plan for 8am. dinner was delicioso as was the conversation. after filling our bellies to their brims, the other gill convinced us to come out with him to u street.

it was a good time, but by the end i was feeling old. of course the casanova told me i am young and lovely and beautiful, but that's not what it was about. i feel like i wasted a number of years. i don't necessarily regret them, but then i hear these stories about 20 year olds working for harper collins, and its a bit depressing. i mean, i know enough people in publishing to realize that it is no dream job. its no glamorous life. and hell, i worked for nyrb for a time, but still. what have i done with my life? not much.

hopefully more in the future.

anyway, eventually the artist and i were dropped off at the dupont red line, and his phone rang as we approached the zoo stop. it was mr. casanova calling to say my phone was at his place still. but of course, being on the metro makes real communication difficult so no plan was figured out. and he, of course, has no internet at home. so i'll have to wait until he gets to work tomorrow for any method of phone recovery to be put into action.

which is well and good and fine. except a) i have to be at the gill's apt at 8 am. and now have no alarm clock and b) i have to make calls at 9 and 10am for cic, and after my snafu on tuesday, i feel the need to set things right.

so nell the problem solver has been set into action. i downloaded an alarm program for the computer. i pray it works. i know gill's apt number, so i guess i can go directly to her door and knock. and i can use the phones at school, but i'll have to purchase a calling card to dial off campus. but i still have the cic am ex, so hopefully that will work.

and if all goes well, i'll have my phone back by the time i need to do my 2:30pm interview.

it will be an interesting day, no doubt. but no matter how it works out, at least i get to spend the end of it at an anthro bbq.

woohoo!

lola, el segund dia

today at lola, i was forced to actually speak in front of people. in fact, i participated in an improvisational skit. en espanol. and i think i did quite well. not to say that my acting was anything to be excited about, but in terms of my language making sense and actually responding to what the other people were doing, i think it was on par.

at the end of the day, we did a little graduation ceremony where we get t shirts (like i need one more-but i'll take it!) and certificates (which i used to print out on my computer and carefully-ie not so carefully-place to the gold seal sticker wherever it would fit). the cubish was handing them out and said "and this graduate is special. she worked for us and helped organize 3 lola trainings, and now she lives in el districto and is a lola graduate." i almost started to cry...

but i pulled my machismo out and didn't.

inspiracion desde tomas

cuando era en peru (hace2 anos, casi), escribi este poema. a la vez, era para practica, solo. pero ahora, es muy relevante. la inspiracion era Skinny Legs and All:

mi corazon es un combi sudamericano

y tu eres llamando un taxi.

i've also been reading a particular quote from ol' tom a lot lately, but i'm not ready to type it out yet. maybe in the coming week i'll feel the need

in other events, i'm still at only 13 pages on my paper that's due for monday, despite my epiphany on an entirely new section. apparently i'm too concise.

but i did hang with the nlirh crew last night and today, and silvia told me today that she "forgot how well i speak spanish." i almost did a spit take. but she was serious, so i assumed i'd mastered the art of looking and sounding like i can speak without the actual ability.

at that point, i started thinking about cesar for some reason. he always told me how good my spanish was. clearly it was not, especially back in those days. but i think he had ulterior motives. at least i got a good chiles rellenos recipe out of it.

and then the strangest thing happened. cesar called me. and we only talked for about 10 minutes, but it was about 90% in spanish, and he told me how much better i was and how he could tell i had been practicing. i guess all the translating for the discourse paper is paying off or something!

but really, the latina time made me realize how drastically different my comprehension is depending on the speaker. basically, the cubish, the guyenese, and silvia i can understand perfectly well. others that speak quicker, or drop their "s"es, or just have a different accent i have more problems with. plus at the end of the afternoon, when i get lazy and my mind starts to wander, i'm hopeless. but it could be worse!

por telephono

i was waiting for the phone call for about a week. maybe not quite that long. and i was pretty sure i knew what was up. turns out, i was on the right track, but had the name wrong.

in any case, i can't decide if i'm happy or sad or relieved or scared or pissed or content.

but through it all, i have been me and more importantly, i have remained kind and true and supportive.

that's all i can give. and if that's not appreciated then i have to accept that. i am who i am, i am what i am, and situations are what you make of them. and at least in the end, my cynicism remains strong.

el estado y la nacion

i finished my paper on the bolivian constitution, imagined communities and the racial state today. it was pretty decent i think, but not anything revolutionary. now i'm just down to the discourse paper, which is the scarriest, but the leap seems to like my analysis. and he basically wrote my conclusion for me. now i just need to figure out how to turn 8 pages into 20-25. sigh.

i've been thinking a lot about how much i learned this semester. i think a lot more than last semester, though the fall did give me a much better handle on gramsci & althusser. but i think contemporary theory was really good this spring, and i feel conversant in things an anthropologist should be conversant in. plus, i feel like i actually know what's going on in bolivia these days (thanks google alerts!). and sunday's the big referendum. it will be interesting to see what happens.

i think i've also learned a lot about myself this semester. what i want, who i am. what i'll put up with and what i won't. basically, this year has been the happiest one since college, at least on a personal level. i have a lot of people i miss, and not many people i see on a regular basis that i really care about. but i guess they always say you have to love yourself before you can love anyone else (or something like that). i guess i'm getting there.

so in a mere 5 days i will be finished, and i can't f'ing wait. i see lots of yoga, painting, and (unfortunately) grading undergrad exams in store for next week. but oh, the freedom looks so good from this side.

on another happy note, b dub wants me to ta for her next semester, which i'm excited about. The Anthropology of American Life. Its funny that i'm the only non-North Americanist (aside from rodo & the partridge family) in my cohort, and i'm the one taing that class, but it sounds like fun. and she said she wouldn't make me do much work (always a good sign). i think this is mostly because we've bonded over our dwight-love. its hard not to. and i think in a way we're both still trying to channel him. i think i always will be. and its a comfort to have him sitting in the back of my mind. wwdd? be savvy.

so, that's a semester wrap up, i guess. perhaps premature, but i'm sticking with it. i'm not sure what the summer has in store. some nj shore, some chicago, maybe some guatemala. we shall see...

too bad they don't play tom petty in gay bars

warning: semi-explicit content...

i took my shirt off in public for the first time in almost 2 years last night.

after sushi, cocktails, and chocolate pudding pops at ee's, we went to the green lantern for the "free drinks in your underwear" special. on the walk from adams morgan to logan square we discussed public nudity, and i brought up the spare rib where crazy n & i exchanged clothing on stage. i wasn't totally comfortable with it at the time. i remember having long discussions with scamz about it, and concluding that i was not opposed to nudity in art as long as it was not exploitative or gratuitous.

not long after i ended up in undies with googly eyes in a film scamz made.

then 2 years ago, i ended up at 241 with sparks, paper telephone, anti-fiendism, a bathing rock, and some tom petty. suddenly faith had negotiated a shirtless porch, and i was sucked in briefly. despite the fact that i was with good, comfortable friends, i regretted it later. maybe it was just a charged atmosphere.

and then last night...the green lantern offered free drinks, and we accepted. on the walk there, i wasn't entirely sure i would actually take off my clothes. but we got inside, and ee took off his shirt. j followed. the bartender then mentioned that delf & i could also get free drinks for stripping down to undies. so we took our shirts off, and he said the pants would have to go too. so we obliged, after commenting that the boys had not taken theirs off. so the bartender insisted they did too. so the four of us, minus clothing, plus free drinks walked away to our table. we had a brief conversation about how comfortable and natural it felt to all be standing around a table in nothing but undies and shoes, and then didn't mention it again.

not long after man #1 approached us and told delf & i that we were "pioneers" because he had never seen women in their undies there before. he shook our hands. later, another man, fully clothed, came over and complimented delf & i on being "sexy" and he told us he liked our shoes. of course he had to preface the whole thing with "i'm gay, but you guys are sexy. and i appreciate that." hmmm... maybe he's holding himself to a little too homonormative of a standard? embrace the fluidity man!

mi camisa

i woke up this morning and threw on my yellow nlirh t shirt. i walked uphill to school, dodging cars as usual, listening to some mountain goats on the ipod.

i crossed the street, and headed onto the construction-scattered quad. as i passed the library i could see a bunch of small red and blue flags stuck into the ground. i figured it was an artful darfur or iraq war protest. as i walked past, i found it was something entirely different. red and blue flags to represent aborted "babies." the use of the phrase "pro-life."

i unzipped my jacket a bit.

salud. dignidad. justicia.

at least i chose an appropriate shirt today.

noticias desde el fin de semana

warning: explicit conversations recounted below

i rolled into the jc around 3pm, and since the sky was gray, i decided to forgo hamilton park, and went to basic instead. i had a hot chocolate and read some of loyal soldiers... rhino called around 5:30 and i met him at 221. we watched some john adams on the dvr, noting that fiend would look especially nice in a thomas jefferson as secretary of state outfit.

at some point, k called rhino, and was on his way to drop off some sort of softball payment at 7s. we went to meet him for a beer. jayne was working and drew was hanging out, but the bar was fairly empty.

scamz called on our way to the bar, and asked if we wanted to meet for some grub before tracking down the fearsome threesome that we'd meet later that night. rhino and i agreed, but K decided not to join us.

so after a blue moon, rhino and i headed in and after losing our direction near washington square park, we met scamz at peculiar pub, for some litres of beer. i had leffe. and here begins the string of totally inappropriate stories. because his stories were not my own, i will forgo the explicit detail of scamz's stories of his work trip to ft. lauderdale, and simply state that after a few imitations of the staples "easy" button and talk of bed jumping, he was then and there dubbed scam-bow. 

shortly thereafter, the crowd was rounded out with the fiend, warden, widowmaker, and eventually tits, who insisted on calling me dr. nell. after a rousing conversation involving republicans and strap-ons, with several ploys to get me to purchase one at the nearest open sex shop (and there were sure to be a variety at 9pm in the village), we finished our litres, and wandered off to kgb.

there i got to talking to the warden, well known in the past for but-sex, driving drunk, and pissing neighbors off with lines like "17, i mean 21, i mean 18," and the conversation ended up with shots of the turkey. as usual, that little bastard was ruffling his feathers from behind the bar.

we eventually ended up at big bar with more warden chatting, where i learned he is choosing between columbia and case western medical schools. apparently somewhere between drunken driving and exposing himself to the lovely folks on pratt street, he found time to actually study while in school. later,  brunjeses appeared with nyu friends. we ended up discussing the end of relationships, and he mentioned that no parking is showing at a few more festivals. at some point while all of this was going on, rhino got a warning message about possible encounters, which i should have known was a bad sign. we got back to the jc, and i took the futon without unfolding it, but slept pretty poorly. after the sun rose though, i managed to get some good hours in, and didn't really get up until 11.

saturday was less exciting with some eating, walking, and the tenement museum tour. republicanism baffles me...

sunday, scam-bow and i went to the biennial, and there were a few good things. he ended up touching something he wasn't supposed to and then was forced to endure a 15 minute conversation with a guard who could barely speak english. we saw the hair piece his friend designed and a few other good things. a good short film that basically involved blind people touching an elephant (but that doesn't really do it justice), some small pieces that he said reminded him of the picture blog...my favorite title for an art piece was "divine violence," shockingly. a good time, but really, i think my favorite moment was looking at the pollock. yet another one i'm convinced i could dance to. and it had amazing explosiveness.

from there, we got some soup and a drink, then headed downtown, and for me, across the river. i met rock, rhino & k at 7s, and had some cokes and a veggie burger. there was some interesting discussion about shape-shifters & flows, which devolved into r&r joking around with me and k making rude comments under his breath. though he did apologize later.

after 7s, i headed back down south, and got some good contemplation in. now, back to work. bolivian filicidio & the media luna's ploy for autonomy won't wait forever

las estudiantes catholicas

i live in a bubble. if it doesn't pertain to bolivian constitutional reforms, professional wrestling, or gendered violence i'm not paying much attention.

yep, it took me over a week to realize i know one of the "catholic school girls" arrested in Chicago on Easter for their anti-war protest at the Holy Name Cathedral. i guess little bird is making a name for herself. i've been forwarded correspondence, and she seems as well as possible. i don't know whether to be inspired, or scared. in any event, i'm rather taken by her performative way of doing things.

i've grown calm in my old age. i now highly doubt i'll ever live up to my "most likely to be arrested in a protest" fame of high school. i'm not code pink material these days. at least i launched a successful attack on school policies and got 5 lovely people little reimbursement checks they so deserved. maybe that just means i'm more of a policy rather than street activist. on the other hand, it makes me feel a bit better to know that at least i'm still connected enough to the community that i have friends in media-attention-worthy places. i just hope all turns out well for her. she's a pretty amazing woman.

recomendaciones de libros: Colombia

Law in a Lawless Land by Michael Taussig.

It starts off in diary form, and explores the daily life of Colombians caught up in paramilitary territory. Though some background in Colombian history and politics certainly helps, its a good way to get at the daily lives of those caught between guerillas, paras, drug trafficking, and Colombian government officials. 

The second half of the book is where it gets good though. Taussig starts to question what it means to be writing a diary and at times self-consciously delves 

into magical realism inspired writing. Its interesting in both content and form, and I'm always a fan of ethnographic writing that challenges the boundaries of academia.

Loyal Soldiers of the Cocaine Kingdom by Alfredo Molano

Admittedly, I haven't actually finished this one yet, but the first half has been surprisingly refreshing. I expected a somewhat dry account of cocaine trafficking in Colombia, but this is a rich, character driving exploration of the different types of people and motivations caught up in the Colombian traffic. Its told via narratives of different characters (presumably real) who are involved in Cocaine trade, and is woven together nicely so that the stories fit nicely together, and even the most ruthless of people are understandable, if not relatable. 

nuestra marca es crisis

I watched Our Brand is Crisis (associate produced by our own j seel) for the second time last night.

The first time was a mere months before my first trip to Lima. I saw OBIC at the film’s New York premiere at Film Forum. Afterwards, director Rachel Boynton answered questions. The only one I remember was someone asking whether Goni’s electoral success should be considered fortunate. Rachel answered that the film was not meant as an argument one way or another but was intended to present a pwerspective in which the audience could form their own opinions.

At the time, I appreciated this answer. I’ve always felt that in documentary, arguments are best made by lying out the information and (though it is clearly editied and positions) letting the audience reach their own conclusions. Basically, the opposite of Michael Moore’s brand of leading the audience along. I think there’s much to be said for trusting the intelligence of your audience.

I watched the firm for a second time, and with 3 years’ more knowledge of the history, culture, politics, and neoliberal positioning of the Andean nation, my feelings are a little different. I still appreciate Rachel’s answer and position, but I don’t believe the film does enough to provide the audience a solid base from which to judge Goni. His role in the privatization of natural gas in Bolivia is merely alluded to. His earlier presidency is reference, but never explained. And the U.S. role in placing Bolivia in their state of “crisis” goes unexplored.

I realize a feature length doc. Cannot necessarily fully survey a nation’s neoliberal history as well as look intricately at a particular election and candidate, but I can’t help vut feel a little slighted by being given the opportunity to “decide for myself” without the necessary background to do so.

Or maybe I just feel vengeful.

tobago

its been over a week, but i thought it deserving of a recap

day 1

we got off the plane from port of spain 4 hours late to find our local shoeless with our cabbie, piggy. they had been drinking for the 4 hours they had been waiting for us. we hopped in the cab, stopped at the nearest bodega, and all had a beer as we got a tour of the south tip of the island and made our way to the villa.

day 2

no water in the faucets, so we went to the beach, then jumped in the pool to wash off, then finally showered in the horizontal stream created when we turned the tap on the pool water tank.

day 3

the housekeeper showed us how to fix the water. the gill and the spaniard cooked amazing food, while i read about paras in colombia. more beach, more beer, more pool.

day 4

it rained in the morning but in the afternoon, the gill and i went exploring. we found a bird sanctuary and took some nice sunset pictures on the beach. i got some good hammocking time in too.

day 5

dk & caroline arrived and more beers were consumed. more beach. more beer. rum punch. and some excellent food.

day 6

now that we had the beachmobile in our posession we went beach hopping all over the southern caribbean side. the first beach was Back Bay Beach which was very secluded, and felt like a safari as we drove down the path to the entrance. at the surfing beach, we witnessed a domestic fight, got some roti, then went to the grocery store, which is dangerous when you have jorge around.

day 7

3 bodies of water. pool, beach, waterfall. in the morning, gill taught me a racing start jump into the pool. dylan proceeded to jump in the pool from the balcony. then we went hiking to a waterfall and jumped in. then to the beach. then back to the pool. drinking and dancing on the town followed.

las estrellas

i've never been one to read horoscopes incessantly, but a dear friend has been forwarding me a weekly freewill horoscope lately, and this weeks seems particularly apropos:

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): This is one of those rare times when your empathy could undo you unless you adhere to the following guidelines. 1. Squelch any attraction you might have to fascinating ruins, sexy decay, or appalling beauty. 2. If you have been sucked into the sphere of a good-looking monster or seductive tyrant, yank yourself free. 3. Break your gaze the instant you sense you're falling under the sway of a flaming narcissist. 4. Suppress the temptation to think this thought: "I'm bored with my hell; I want to hang out in *your* hell for a change."

I think it means its time to say goodbye to mr. reganomics...

egg foucault*

so i just finished reading discipline & punish for the second time. and strangely, i think i got more out of it the first time.

but in a class of 9 women and 1 man, the conversation evolved into gendered discipline. and i realized that in many instances women become responsible for the discipline of men. motherhood is perhaps the most prevalent example, but wives, girlfriends, teachers, etc. all play a role. not to say that this dynamic is always gendered, but women are often the parties looked to for maintenance of discipline.

and its something i've certainly internalized. with my former crew of boys, i often took on the role of sheparding home (especially after blondies), making sure no one got in fights. it was i who discouraged honking at women walking down the street (which of course has multiple layers of stuff going on). and i was always the one pushing for civilized things like brunches, and grocery shopping, and limiting the stroh consumed (which i would argue has a direct correlation with lack of discipline).

and so, in a way, i feel the need to apologize for letting all the subconscious gendered disciplining factors invade my personality. but on the other hand, apologizing only serves to reinforce the discipline i've already found myself in. sometimes, the uncomfortable places are the important ones. sometimes, its better to let people find their own way than to lead them. and so, i will not be disappointed in myself, despite my attention to discipline.

instead i will treat myself to a caribbean vacation.
next time i write, it will be with a tan (or sunburn)

*props to Val for the brilliant nickname...or was it Mags?