Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Ugly girls work hard and pretty girls are stupid

Newsflash to all my fellow spinsters:  if you find that you are single and successful in your career it's not because you actually wanted to pursue your dream it's because you decided long ago that you simply weren't pretty enough to land a man and so chose your career as the consolation prize.  At least this is the case according to a study done recently at the University of Texas at San Antonio.

To quote, "And among college-age women surveyed as part of the experimental portion of this research, those who rated themselves less attractive to men were morelikely to claim to aspire to a high-paying career."

...or maybe pretty girls are just stupid or more likely to be lazy?

Right.  This article by J. Maureen Henderson of Forbes.com breaks down the flaws of the study rather well including the assumption that the only reason a woman would choose to pursue a career is because if she can't have the security of a man taking care of her (because she is a hideous hag that no man wants) she really has no other choice than to do it herself:
"Tying career aspirations to not-so-thinly veiled evolutionary biology arguments takes self-actualization out of the mix, disregards that a woman might have 99 good reasons to become a computer programmer (and an inability to hook a man ain’t one) and assumes that our need to be attractive trumps our ambition. Maybe we’ve just figured out that we’re great leaders and want to exploit that?"
Oh wait, you mean some young women might actually want to follow a path that doesn't include marriage and children?  And wait...they might actually be happy doing so...oh, well we didn't even consider that.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

A Quiet Sunday Morning


It’s a Sunday morning, almost afternoon, and I am sitting on the futon with my windows wide open and a cup of fresh coffee in my hand.  The spinster pride is scattered across the window sills chittering and meowing at the birds in the trees outside.  In the distance I can hear a dog barking. 

This is a rare quiet time for me.  I have written so many times before about how busy my life is and this past week was no exception.  I do have plans today, a paper to write, this evening my performance troupe has auditions after which I am meeting a visiting friend for conversation and a drink, but the next couple of hours are mine to do with as I wish. 

Right now, I am thinking that my wish will involve a blanket, a shady spot beneath a tree, a thermos of coffee and a book. 

First though, I should probably put on pants. 

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Passion

Alright, just to get it out of the way, this post is not about the bosom heaving, sighing away the hours in the arms of a talented lover with whom I have such intense physical chemistry that I lose time and a sweat away a few pounds kind of passion. THAT is N.O.Y.B and while what is written below might contain enough sentiment* to be written to just such a lover, it is about a very different sort of passion...*you've been warned...it's full of it, and some parts are downright gooey, but I do mean every word.
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I always sort of thought that if I ever managed to be lucky enough to stumble across my passion, it would be in the pages of a novel I was writing or on a canvas I was painting.  I thought maybe I’d find it somewhere hidden in a mountain cabin after months of quiet, contemplative solitude.  Instead I found it smack in the middle of the town square, the air filled with the sound of a half dozen beating drums, shouting at the top of my lungs to a crowd of a hundred people, with dancers, jugglers, singers and fire spinners standing behind me waiting to entertain them, “Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight we present to you....”

Passion is a difficult thing to explain. It is different than obsession with its all consuming nature, taking without any sort of return.  Obsession depletes but passion gives back.  Passion is at once a feeling and a thing.  It is symbiotic; its energy is increased by its self fueled creation.  

It is this passion that drives me to stay up late at night rewriting a press kit, updating a website, entering name after name into a mailing list database or negotiating a booking contract.  It is what brings ideas into my mind for show themes, scene introductions, or skit ideas and it gives me the commitment to write them down, flesh them out and eventually bring them to life on a stage.  

Passion gives back.   It is in the joy I feel when a performer pushes their limits and succeeds at something they never thought they could do.  It is in the excitement that comes with hearing music played and realizing that this unexpected grouping of musicians has become a band.  It’s in that thrilling moment when the lights are dark, the crowd is waiting and I know that with the next breath I’ll be stepping out on to the stage.  

I wonder sometimes what exactly made this so different from the other places in which I have sought passion or purpose.  I love to write and do so often, but if it’s late and I’m tired or frustrated I’ll eagerly put it off until another day so that I can climb beneath the covers and snooze.  Yet two nights ago, with little sleep the night before, I was up until nearly 1:00 in the morning, happily working out set lists. And is isn’t that I don’t have moments of exhaustion, frustration, or doubt.  Oh, I have them, I do; but they are just that, moments...and moments pass.  

Maybe it’s in the people who are a part of this.  When I step back and look at this creative and talented group of performers that have come together to make this idea come to life I feel awe and inspiration.  They dance, twirl and juggle their way across the stage bringing music and song to life and in response the audience laughs, stomps their feet, claps their hands and sometimes even arises to dance themselves.  I’ve had the pleasure of watching many of them grow in their art, step outside of their comfort zones and try things they never thought possible which has in turn, pushed me into new creative territory.  

It could be in the creative exchange.  The sharing and mutual development of ideas and the room for them to grow. Music that is written for a particular performer, a skit that is written to bring out another’s talent for physical comedy, space that is provided for a solitary dancer to tell the story in her heart, or a musician who finds himself brought from the behind the scenes to center stage and unexpectedly finds he is comfortable there.

We are still very small in so many ways, but we have come far.  What was once just a street show has made it’s way to the stage and beyond.  Though we are not very well known outside of our state, that is changing steadily. We are traveling to three other states for performances this year.  This is something that back in 2008, when this all began, I’m not sure would have even occurred to me as even being possible.


...I have this vision sometimes, many years in the future, where a group of us who were here now but much, much older, are standing at the back of a theater watching the house lights go down over a full house.  It won’t be the first time we’ve done this, watching a show from the audience side of the stage; we will have passed the performing torch on to others many years before but we are still here, still involved.  How could we ever stop really?. Yet, though we may not be on the stage, as the lights dim we still feel that familiar pause in our breath, that quiver in our stomachs that says, the show is about to begin.  The spot light will come up and solitary figure in a top hat will walk out, he or she will be younger than most of us are now, and begin to tell the audience of the journey they will be taken on that night...


You can be sure that I’m not doing this without a plan, and yes, I’ve big hopes for us, but in many ways I’ve no idea where this is going to end up.  I know that I am terribly lucky to be a part of it and I know that I’m on board for however long it lasts. And I do believe it is going somewhere great.  Where ever this passion brings me, and where ever we may end up, I’m so very, very grateful to be here now.  

Monday, April 2, 2012

Where oh where have I been?


"To achieve great things, two things are needed; a plan, and not quite enough time.” - Leonard Bernstein

Where oh where has Spinster Jane gone?  Where oh where can she beeeee….???

Actually I’ve not gone anywhere; I’m still here, still living solo with three kitties and far fewer houseplants.  The houseplants all got some sort of fungus and one by one began to die off over the past month.  I did manage to save a few clippings and the pathos in the bathroom, which seems to have escaped the attack, continues to thrive.  I do miss them, but I admit to feeling some relief that their demise was something beyond my control since it is likely they would have died from neglect otherwise.

Spring has brought a whole new kind of busy into my life.  I am midway through the semester and I confess to not having been as attentive a student as I could have been.  If I continue this way I’m likely going to finish the semester with grades somewhere in the range of average.  If I do my usual second half of the semester push, I might end up with solid B’s.   Being as much a creature of habit as anyone, this is likely what will happen.  

I’m still juggling two jobs which, after the semester ends, will become easier to manage but right now it means that I’ve very few moments to call my own and what little time I do have left has been spent on finalizing the summer engagements for the performance troupe I manage.  Coordinating multiple events for a troupe of 17 people is not easy but I’m near to the point of having everything ready.   Of course this means that just as the organizational part settles down, the performing begins! 

I’ve also managed to somehow squeeze in a social life, though even I wonder some days just how I manage to get myself out of bed each morning.  I should be…okay, I AM exhausted, nearly mentally wiped out and pretty close to broke most days, but I can’t say that I’m unhappy. 

Single people have been in the news quite a bit over the past year and one of the common themes has been how full their lives tend to be.  I definitely fall into happily fulfilled category and while I like to imagine I have some sort of Get It All Done superpower, I don’t and so every once in a while something falls through the cracks for a bit, as has been the case with this blog. 

I am finally back.  It’s only been just over two weeks since I last posted but it feels like forever.  I’ve missed writing regularly and I hope that at least a few of you have missed me.  

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

My love...

You are so good to me.

You are never cold or unwelcoming, instead your warmth and bubbliness pull me ever closer to you.

You never leave me wanting.  Yes,  I mean it when I say that you satisfy me in a way no one else ever has.

You take care of me.  When I walk in the door from a long day of work and school, the apartment is filled with the aroma of the dinner that awaits me.

I'm sorry that we don't spend as much time together as we should, I know I take you for granted and sometimes I might forget all about you...

It never matters how long it's been.  You won't rush or hurry.  No, you take your time...sometime hours.

And I know that when I once again feel that deep hunger you will be there, tucked away beneath the cupboard, sitting patiently in the corner.

Oh how I adore you....

...my crockpot.*

*I had a very tasty beef stew this evening thanks to my favorite kitchen appliance.  I <3 you crockpot. 




Friday, March 9, 2012

Ugly...I learned it from you...


Today, I came across this article on The Great Fitness Experiment about the uproar surrounding Crystal Renn and her recent weightloss.  For those who don’t know who Crystal Renn is:  Ms. Renn  spent years battling anorexia while working as what is called a straight size model but it was not until after she dealt with her food and body issues, gained herself some curves and began a new career as a plus size model that she became truly famous.  She was applauded for overcoming her eating disorder but also for being an example of how beauty doesn’t have weight restrictions.  Putting on a few pounds did not make her any less beautiful, in fact (as the author in the blog post I linked to above notes) Ms. Renn would be gorgeous at any size.

However, now she has gone and done something that has upset many of her fans.  She has lost weight and is no longer working as a plus size model.  She is facing a backlash not only from everyday fans but also from former employers. Despite her accounts of a healthy lifestyle and diet, she has been accused of crash dieting, starving herself and relapsing back into anorexia.  There are those who have said they feel let down by her weight loss and many feel she shouldn’t have tried to lose the weight at all.

The world response to Crystal Renn’s weight loss has played out publicly across the internet as an amplified version of what goes on inside the minds of nearly every woman in America.  You would have to be living beneath a rock the size of a semi to not be aware that of the fact that we are a nation of women who are dissatisfied with our bodies.  Despite the good intentions of our parents who hopefully did their best to raise us with some sense of self esteem, we still look in the mirror and find that our eyes go directly to our flaws and that voice in our heads starts to catalogue everything we wish we could change.  We compare ourselves to an unattainable physical ideal and find ourselves lacking.  And now, as if it isn’t bad enough that we have to deal with our own inner struggles with body image, we’ve taken that struggle into the public sphere and it has shown itself to be as ugly on the outside as it is inside our own minds. 

We have all seen  pictures of this or that celebrity in a bikini on a beach somewhere with a caption about how they have let themselves go, usually with a primary colored arrow pointing the offending body part; the pot belly, cellulite thighs or jiggly upper arms (message: we hate you for being fat).  We have the People of Wal-Mart videos that have played out across the web displaying image after image of those who not only don’t fit the ideal physically but who also have the bad luck to not fit the middle class ideal of appearance either (message:  we hate you for being fat and we hate you even more for being fat AND poor).  I am sure that nearly every one out there has seen the Marilyn meme with the skinny girl in a bathing suit juxtaposed against the picture of the more curvaceous Marilyn Monroe (message: oh by the way, we hate you for being skinny too)

So now the circle is complete, not only are we hating ourselves for not being able to live up to that impossible standard, we hate everyone else for it too! 

I have struggled with my own issues about my physical self image.  I hit six feet tall somewhere around seventh grade and spent the next ten years feeling like a towering giant in a world of cute and adorable short people.  Until my late 20s my weight averaged somewhere around 140 pounds which, at six feet tall, I felt gave me the appearance of a walking bean pole full of elbows and knees.  I would hide beneath bulky sweaters and layers of flowing skirts so I could give the illusion of having some sort of body mass.  For a brief time during my early 30s I started to feel a bit better about things and lost the heavy sweaters and skirts.  Everyone was incredibly supportive telling me I looked good and wow, why had I kept myself hidden all this time? All of which might seem great except that one day I realized that unless someone was actively telling me I looked great, I still felt pretty lousy about my appearance.   

I’d like to say that at some point I just got angry or fed up or just plain tired of it all, but that wasn’t it.  I confess that I feel a bit of shallow when I admit that it was sometime around 35 that I had the realization that it didn’t matter if I was thin, or tall, or was a red head or a blond, or if anyone told me I was beautiful or ugly, the fact was that whatever I might look like now, soon I’d be on the edge of the ultimate beauty sin.  The sin that no woman can avoid…I’d get old.  In a culture that values youth even more that it values beauty, if I didn’t find some other way to feel good about myself I’d be spending the second half of my life unhappy.  Whatever my motivation though, I finally did take a look inside myself and found things that I valued far more than my physical appearance and cliché as it may sound, when I began to find things other than my appearance to feel good about, I began to feel better about myself inside and out.

Now, when I look back at pictures of myself from years ago, like the one shown here; yes, that tall, slender and attractive young woman chowing down on pizza in the public square is me about ten years ago (if you are wondering about the head to toe pink I was waiting to march in the annual gay pride parade).  I look at her and I wonder how in the world could I have thought of myself as ugly or unattractive?     When I looked at that body then I didn’t see pretty, I saw knobby knees and fingers that resembled spider legs.  I saw a nose that was too big and ears that stuck out too much.  I saw eyes that weren’t quite green enough and breasts that had never, since the beginning of their existence, been considered perky without the assistance of underwired women’s undergarments.  I saw these things because, like every other woman in America I was raised to see only those things that I saw as my imperfections.

But you see that’s kind of the point of all of this. I don’t think the furor over Crystal Renn’s weight loss is about whether or not we have a ‘realistic’ image of beauty outside of ourselves because whether the models we see in magazines or on the runway are thin, curvaceous, flat chested, well endowed, tall or thin what matters in the end is how we feel about ourselves.    When we see a woman like Ms. Renn who seems completely comfortable with her appearance despite not fitting into the norm who then goes and changes herself, we worry that maybe she wasn’t as happy as we thought and we begin to be afraid that we may never find that place within ourselves.

 Pictures of out of shape movie stars, stick thin beach bunnies, overweight customers in a department store or angry and snarky remarks about a woman who might have just decided that she wanted to get a little more in shape are not going to help us feel better about ourselves. They are nothing more than distractions.  We have to stop buying into whatever the current standard of beauty is because it does change constantly, and perhaps most of all we have to stop berating people for being whatever body shape they have because until we do we will never stop berating ourselves. 

We are not born thinking we are ugly, it is something we learn.  If we are ever going to raise a generation of women who don’t struggle with how they feel about their physical appearance we have to lead by example and learn to value ourselves, and everyone else,  for who we are.  Period.  

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Okay. Okay...I'm a Slacker!!!

Since the first of the year I've not been at all good about keeping up with my promise of two blog posts per week.  I have been particularly busy and I've been managing some health issues (which are improving steadily) but at the same time I also seem to have lost a bit of my discipline when it comes to daily writing. 

Prior to two months ago my habit was to wake up, make coffee and plop myself down in front my laptop to write for 30 minutes.  I did this pretty much daily from Monday to Friday.  When I kept up with it regularly I very easily churned out a blog post  nearly every two days.  Now not all of them were posted to Spinster Jane mind you, but they did at least come into being. 

The past few months I've woken up, made coffee and then taken a world wide web tour of new articles, Facebook memes and YouTube videos. You would think this daily cyber jaunt would give me plenty of material for writing, and you'd be right.  The issue isn't that there is not a plethora of topics to choose from, no the real reason is...

I've allowed myself to slack.  I've been engaging in multiple acts of slackishness.  I have jumped off the tower of discipline and into the pool of deep slack.  "I'll do it tomorrow," has become my writing catch phrase.

Sooooo, here we go folks.  I am taking the first step to dealing with the issue and that is to admit that I have a slack problem.  

I've no idea what the second step is, but you know something?  I think I'm going to worry about that tomorrow. 

Good night.