we didn't start the fire

I have seen this quote come up a fair few times on blogs, tumblrs, or pinterest (<--new love, by the way.) But you know what I say to this?

NO. Just NO.

How about: Look like a woman; Act like a woman; Think like a woman; Work like a woman--in whatever way that means to you.

Or even better and more universal: Look like yourself; Act like yourself; Think for yourself; Work with your whole self.

I think the part that irked me the most was the "Think like a man" line.

Think like a man.

What does that even mean? What does that even mean?!

My sexism detector is going off like crazy. All jokes aside though, reading this "mantra" is very troubling to me because quite frankly, this quote, behind its delicate salmon font, is internalized misogyny.

["Oh here we go, Tanya is getting all uppity..."]--I know some of you are thinking this.

It is not better to think like a man (if you are not a man). It is also not better to think like a woman (if you are not a woman). I think it is best to think like an individual.

I started to delve into my views on feminism, patriarchy, gender, etc., but I'll save it for another blog post because it could take...awhile.

Simply put, I think men and women do think differently because their brains are different. In development, the brain goes through masculinization or feminization based on the sex and the hormones to which it is exposed. (There are many disorders where this process can be disturbed, but this is what typically happens.)

Anyway, there is no right or superior way to think, contrary to what this quotation was implying. My thoughts and ideas are just as valid as a woman--and more so because I'm a person.

And I still don't know what it means to think like a man--because I'm not a man; I'll never be a man, so how can that even be a goal? Is it because they're stereotyped to be more logical? I beg to differ; anyone can use logic. Is it because they are stereotyped to be less emotional? I think emotions are the most human thing we possess. So someone please explain what it means!

I honestly don't get it.

I am capable of creativity, genius, humor, and brilliance all on my own, thanks.

And for all of the eye-rollers, I leave you with this:

"People call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that distinguish me from a doormat."--Rebecca West

what i've learned in 22 years

There exists a black hole.

This black hole collects socks, hair ties, bobby pins, pencils with the erasers still on them, and...

tupperware lids.

Finding a lid that fits on a certain container has been the bane of my college existence and my recent living-at-home existence.

If I find one more mismatched lid/container, I'm going to..................I don't know yet, but probably lash out drastically--at the tupperware.

(P.S. I realize that tupperware is really just a brand name and not the official name for plastic containers. Thus it should be capitalized, but I'm not actually referring necessarily to actual Tupperware. Hence, I'm not going to capitalize it. This is kind of how people use the word kleenex to refer to a any tissue. Props to the brilliant marketing team who brainwashed everyone into thinking they are the same.)

Classy Bonney Lake

[This one goes out to all the skeezies in Bonney Lake.]

Dear men that make me feel awkward,

If you try to get my attention, and I give you this face:

It means I don't want to send any positive reinforcement--no matter how much you honk or stare.

Thought you ought to know.

Not-So-Warm Regards,

Tanya

fml

I think I had some pent up bad karma against me today.

As I was leaving the gym today, my car died right as I pulled out onto Hwy 410. (This is about 4.5 miles from my house.) I sat there crying for a second; then I called my working mom in a panic and realized the worst thing about having no friends in Bonney Lake: no one can help you when your POS car from high school breaks down.

Fortunately, I was right by a Jiffy Lube, and a worker helped me push my car into the parking lot. (So you should all support your local Jiffy Lube!) Unfortunately I was a sweaty, haggard mess. I don't like asking people for help. At all. If I had been looking really cute, I would have felt slightly less guilty about asking for help. I feel like men would feel a little happier about pushing a car for a cute girl rather than a gross-face. That's just my theory though.

Anyway during this time, I realized that I was in desperate need for an accelerated course in Cars 101. I was steering my car while the worker pushed, and I may have run into a hedge, a curb, and another hedge along the way. "Yeah when your car doesn't work, your power steering and brakes don't work either," the worker said. And with my lack of good looks, I couldn't even play the dumb-but-pretty card that would make this lack of knowledge forgivable.

So we got the car parked. Finally. Then I had to run/walk/limp the whole way home. I had already worked out for the day, so having to add another 4 miles? Death.

Then some skeezy guy was trying to get my attention as I waited at a light. Bleh.

And then while I was running on a road lacking in sidewalk or shoulder, someone yelled at me something to the effect of, "Bitch, get out of the road!"

Wow, thanks.

Some days are just like that, I guess...even in Australia.

dental skool

I think I rant about the dentist every time I go because I just hate it so. Yes, I know I need to floss more. Yes, I know my gums are receding into oblivion, which I'm starting to believe is out of my control. I swear, I brush softer and softer every time...

Anyway, so I'm laying in the chair about to get a filling. For some reason the topic between the dentist and hygienist turns to sunscreen. Here is the conversation (with my brain commentary):

Dentist: Well there's the SPF part. Do you know what that is?

Hygienist: Uhhh...

Me: [Come on, you got this...]

D: I'm sure you know.

H: Uh..doesn't it help with sun burn or something?

Me: [Sun Protection Factor, dude]

D: Yeah, well there's different numbers like 40, 50, 70.

Me: [70? Don't think that's normal...]

D: Do you know what they mean?

H: Not really

Me: [Not really??]

D: It's the time needed to reapply. Like 40, would mean every 40 minutes.

Me: [Uh, that's not remotely true. Try multiplying by 10]

H: Oh, that makes sense.

Me: [No, no it doesn't. I don't know if I want you putting that drill in my mouth now.]

Maybe it's just me, but I worry when people lack in common sense that they are lacking in other areas too... Oh well, I'm still alive.

germaphobe-phobe

In my apartment, we have a community jar of nutella. The other day, we were all in the kitchen and I dipped my finger in the jar, and without thinking I double-dipped with the same finger. It was an honest accident.

You should have seen the look of restrained horror on my roommates' faces. One said so very passive-aggressively, "Did you just, um, double dip?" The other roommates who witnessed the crime agreed that it should just be my jar of nutella now (hey, free nutella!). They even scrawled my name across the top and put it in my room. ?????

Seriously? Seriously. I think passive-aggressiveness is so pathetic and annoying. Germaphobes need to just take a microbiology class because then they would learn that germs are everywhere. And they are not all bad. You know that philosophical debate about the tree falling in the forest and if no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? I feel that can be applied to this situation because if I had been alone, no one would have noticed anything wrong with the nutella. No one would have gotten deathly ill either.

Germaphobia is purely psychological and has little scientific merit. The reality is that my "germs" are already all over the apartment. We all touch the same door/fridge handles, use the same dishes that don't get completely sanitized when we most often have to handwash them because our dishwasher sucks; the air and water I expire rests everywhere along with my dead skin particles (aka dust), a single sneeze contains 20,000 virus droplets, etc., etc. I digress.

The fact is that germs are everywhere and your minute attempts to avoid them once in awhile rarely make the slightest impact. What about french kissing? (I like how that term hasn't been used since the 90's.) Most people, even germaphobes, are pretty down with that even though it is an extremely germ-infested frontier. Or, I made divine Oreo truffles the other day that I had to touch with my bare hands to form the balls. But I'm sure none of my roommates would have a problem eating those either. My point is that most self-proclaimed germaphobes pick and choose which germs they want based on personal gain; there really is no rhyme of reason to most of it.

Now, of course I need an exception to this rant because almost every argument needs one. Sanitation and cleanliness are good things. Of course, you should wash your hands after you go to the bathroom--except if you only pee, it's okay to skip because urine is sterile and not a big deal. JUST KIDDING. That is a joke, people. Although urine is sterile, always wash your hands. You should cough in your elbow, keep household surfaces clean, blah blah blah, the basics, you know? Do I think it's necessary or healthier to be immaculate? No, not really. Studies actually show that kids who are exposed to pets and play outside more have healthier immune systems because the best way to boost immunity is to be exposed to other pathogens--none of this Airborne, vitamin C overdosing nonsense.

Anyway, I just wish people had the basic biological knowledge to know that one double-dipping incident is not going to give them AIDS.

And because I hate passive-aggressiveness so much, when no one was home, I licked my finger and stuck it right back in their new, shiny jar of community nutella--ironic, but I had to return the favor.

:)

give me a break

Normally I'm not one of those people who tries to sound smarter than other people, but this really irked me today.

I'm in a pathophysiology class, which is heavily information-packed. I do not doubt that my professor is very knowledgeable on the subject.

However...

He starts talking about nutrition because many of the diseases we talk about have a dietary factor. But he always talks in absolutes, and he throws out claims that really make me doubt his expertise regarding nutrition. I have taken two nutrition classes, which doesn't sound like much, but it is two more than any biology major will ever have to take. I also consider myself a self-learned nutrition guru. I read a lot. I learn a lot. I am also very interested in food politics, and I admittedly have a vegan bias at times.

So when I hear things like "meat is the only source of absorbable iron in the diet," or "you must have four servings of dairy products a day to reduce chances of osteoporosis. All other supplements and sources are completely nonabsorbable," I want to roll my eyes. And I probably do. After doing a simple literature search, I have found that these claims are unfounded. I tentatively tried to ask the difference between calcium found in animal secretions than calcium found in other (natural) foods. I understand that different ion complexes affect its absorption. However, cow's feed is supplemented with calcium because they are fed corn in most cases instead of being grass-fed. (I really said this in the most non-snotty way possible. I'm very good at asking innocent questions.) To this though, my professor replies, "well I've never heard that before, so blah blah same absolute claim blah."

If there is one thing I hate, it is feeling stupid and wrong. Especially when it is unwarranted. Like today.

baby got back

I know I'm bottom-heavy, okay? My roommate legitimately thought for the first 2 months when we lived together that I was part Puerto Rican until I mentioned my real heritage. (I have not one iota of hispanic blood in me. It's all white English/Swedish...so exotic.) I have had other (male) friends also remind me of this detail most likely followed up with some inappropriate insinuation. I'm not sure how to feel about it, but they are my friends, so I do not take too much offense.

However, if we are not friends, you do NOT have the right to comment about the junk in the trunk.

While I was dancing in the RB, some guy--albeit an aquaintance--told my partner to stop looking down as he followed me in a hockey stick to spiral, overturned syncopated cha-cha lock section. The guy said, "I know she has a big one, but you have to look up."

Cue nausea and discomfort and red face and confliction of internal vs. external reaction.

My poor partner is this little freshman, and was probably just looking at the ground, as many unfocused or concentrating dancers are wont to do at times. He's also not the type to laugh at those kind of "jokes." It was awkward to say the least. And not just awkward. It was humilliating, but if I were to express this, then I'm the prude who can't take a joke. Now I see how easy it is to get away with sexual harassment.

So I know this post kind of has a mixed message. I'm being light-hearted and serious at the same time. It's probably because society would tell me to lighten up, but my psyche is a bit more sensitive than that. I guess people just need to know their boundaries. All I know is that I felt uncomfortable today, and I should have said something.

confession

I'm going to try to make this vague.

I have a friend that is one of those music commandos. This means that her music choices trump everyone else's. It's always her ipod that is used to play in the car, the room, whatever. Normally I'm pretty chill with people's music choices, and I can learn to appreciate a lot of types.

But there is something about her purely hip-hop choices that just makes me want to throw her ipod home off a cliff. I even like some hip-hop, but I feel like the particular facet of hip-hop she likes is the exact type that I loathe.

But I really enjoy her as a friend.

Love the music player. Hate the music.

me

So I'm not a big fan of married blogs.

I should rephrase since I have readers with married blogs. What I mean is, I hate when people start a blog only for the sake that they are married. I don't know if that conveys a different meaning...

Case in point: (or is it point in case??) I came across a blog of a girl who was recently married and who was excited that she could finally have a blog due to her personal rule that only married people should have blogs. Apparently the "single life" just wasn't that interesting to blog about.

I disagree. I blog because I have opinions, experiences, goals, questions, humor, analyzations, and oberservations to offer to the cyber world. Or these can just be for my benefit and the benefit of my biggest blog fan [mom :)], and that is enough too.

Getting married doesn't change your personality or suddenly turn a light switch on in your brain to have thoughts to share. Plus (certain) married blogs have that awkward "we." Everything is presented in we's. "We did this. We think that. We felt this way. We want things that way. We're having a baby!" (not physiologically possible...) "We're eating dinner! We're getting a new job!" I feel like married blogs become more about the things you do together--most of which doesn't have a lot of profound meaning or interest--and you sound like you have morphed into one entity. Marriage shouldn't be about homogenizing. It should be about celebrating two people with two brains and two personalities who manage to synergistically create something better with each other.

And most of the time it's only one of the partners blogging anyway, which is why using the "we" pronoun for everything seems odd since the other half rarely participates in the blogging experience.

Anyway, that's all.

p.s. (This is nothing against you Claire in case you are wondering. I think you are fabulous :))

How Bizarre

One thing I love about Provo is their abundance of frozen yogurt shops. Just when you think the economy is bad enough to support another business, up comes another froyo place with the exact same features as the others. They are all the same. Self-serve, tons of flavors, every imaginable topping, over-sized styrofoam dishes to make it impossible to exert moderation--and I love it. This frozen self-serve dessert concept was very foreign back in Bonney Lake, but it's actually the greatest thing since those ice cream man Tweety bird popsicles with the gumball nose (anyone remember those?? They also had other characters if I remember correctly...)

Anyway, there is one thing I don't understand. When I go to pay, there is a tip jar.

???

Walk me through this. I came here. I got my own dish and served myself. The only thing you did was take my money, and technically, even I swiped my own debit card. So I'm confused as for what I'm tipping you. Is it because you gave me a sample cup? Is it for standing there looking bored until I come to the register? Is it for your unconvincing cheery disposition or your honest apathetic one? Is it for the minimal job description you are already getting paid to do?

I'm just in need of some clarity on this one.

Toms

So there is this brand of shoes called Toms. They are basically these plain, canvas, hipster-looking shoes that go for about $50 dollars. But here's the catch: for every pair of shoes they sell, they give a pair to a child in need.

That's a nice vision; it really is. But $50 dollars for a pair of shoes that probably cost a dollar to produce? I feel like you could donate a lot more shoes than just one for one with all of the extra profit.

I would propose two options: 1.) Lower the price or 2.) Raise the ratio of shoes given per shoes bought.

Just a thought. I'm trying not to be too cynical because at least they are doing something.

Birth Control

Bad News Bears.

Disclaimer: I'm not on birth control in case you were wondering.

I feel like everyone is on birth control lately, and it kind of sucks from an outsider's perspective. I'm a bit terrified for when I have to take it. I almost don't want to take it at all.

STOP. This does not mean I am one of those "19 Kids and Counting" people on TLC who don't believe in birth control. I do believe in birth control. It is a very useful thing (and absolutely necessary for some people who shouldn't reproduce). There are just a lot of sucky side effects that you have to sift through until you find the right brand, which may not exist. I don't want to get fat, get a larger chest (not a plus for a runner/dancer), lose my sex drive (which is not in gear of course, but you know, someday...), break out uncontrollably, become overly emotional, etc.--all things I have heard from people. Yikes.

I think the overly emotional side effect is what bothers me the most. It just makes me raise a lot of questions about the concept of the 'self.' If I am a naturally laid-back person, but birth control makes me cry or get upset at things that normally wouldn't upset me, am I just a victim to the chemicals in my body? How can I claim a personality, if it can be manipulated by one swift swallow of a pill? Do I have more control than I think or am I helpless to my hormones? Who or what am I really? A person with a soul and self-control or a beautiful mess of chemical compounds reacting with one another?

This is why neuroscience and endocrinology fascinate me. But it is disheartening at the same time knowing that everything that makes you you is simply (yet, not so simply) a series of electrical impulses and chemicals. And somehow the synergy of all that makes a human being with thoughts and feelings and beliefs and passions and questions and worries and joys.

I don't get it.

But when the day comes, birth control will only control my ovaries damnit!

Blueberries

This is the expanded version of my facebook status.

My roommate left a box of muffins behind when she moved out, so naturally I decided to make and share them. I looked at the box, and it said "made with REAL blueberries!" This irked me. What was the alternative? Synthetic blueberries? I don't want to even know what that would entail. Or worse, imaginary blueberries? That would go over really well with consumers.

What is this world coming to?? They actually have to remind me that, "hey, in case you were skeptical, your food is actually real!" I didn't know that I ever needed to question that. Maybe I'm expecting too much from my beloved, corporate America. Does this mean that my food is not real by default? Are we slowly being transformed into robots? Will food not even be necessary?? Is this some Matrix universe about to collapse?!?! Am I being melodramatic???!!!!!!!!

But in all seriousness (or sarcasm), I'm only a tad concerned with the fact that the reality of my food has been called into question.

I can't wait until I just have my own garden. Until then, trust no one.

Adult Tanya

Again, Katie told me I need to write down all the things I say I'll never do, so here it goes:

If and when I'm engaged, we will only have ONE photo in our announcement, and we will be looking straight on at the camera. No awkward engagement poses; no weird photoshop or retouching; no snogging; no excessive photo collages, and no overly match-iness.

If and when I have a child, it will not take over my facebook. I will not have more photos of my baby than myself. I will not post multiple photos of the same exact thing. I will not have every status be about me and my pregnancy or every detailed action of my newborn.

That's all.

Missed Connection

To the guys who came to the pool today:

1. Thank you so much for making the biggest splash ever as close as you could to me; I love acting like a fourth grader too! You're a big guy if you hadn't noticed. It was so considerate of you to do the physics in your head and figure out how much water would be displaced onto the deck to accomadate your jump that rivaled Shamu.
2. I definitely wanted to hear your immature babbling and awkward guy laughter instead of the peaceful breeze to which I was originally subjected.
3. It's so attractive when you can tell that you're hanging out with girls because you feel so connected to their race and haven't gotten over that 2-year Latin Passion.
4. I unhook my swimsuit straps to get rid of tan lines for my ballroom competition, but thank you for reminding me of my provacativeness by looking at me like I were Jezebel or Bath-Sheba.

In all my sun-bathing experience was totally enhanced this afternoon. So thanks.

A discourse on Johnny Lingo

If you’re Mormon, you’ve seen the 1970's quality short film many times. If you’re not, here’s a brief synopsis. There’s an island. In their marital traditions, a man will give X amount of cows to a woman’s father as a kind of reverse dowry (I’m sure there is a word for it…). Three cows are pretty standard. Four to five cows are a little more impressive. There is a scene in the short film where women are bragging about how many cows their husbands gave for them. There is this girl called Mahana, and she is “ugly.” The island people make fun of her, and joke that maybe she’ll get one cow for her hand in marriage. Well this good-looking guy called Johnny Lingo comes to the island to get married, and he happens to choose Mahana--to everyone's shock. The next day he brings an astronomical 8 COWS! All the island people don’t understand, but her father obviously accepts. Later down the road, we see Mahana and Johnny Lingo in their married life, and gasp! Mahana has shed her ugly duckling looks. Johnny Lingo gives some bogus moral of the story that once Mahana saw she was worth 8 cows, she had inner confidence…blah blah blah.

Well, Johnny Lingo was wrong! Mahana needed to feel that her self-worth was infinite and absolute before she got material wealth. Her newfound self confidence was rooted in something fickle and conditional. Mahana essentially became one of those silly women at the beginning of the film who felt oh-so-important because of the number of cows that were paid for them. This does not show much self-improvement.

Kids, moral of the story: If you buy what everyone else has and keep up with society's materialism, you will feel profound self-love and inner confidence.

A discourse on diamonds

Thesis: I do not want a diamond for my wedding ring because I think it is cliché, unoriginal, and materialistic.

You may think your ring is unique because it is cut this way or your band is encrusted that way, and you attach stale symbolism that diamonds are the hardest mineral and last “forever,” but in the end, they all look the same to me. Yes, I see a need for a ring. It is a symbol in our culture that you have made a marital commitment to someone (which is why I always wonder why boys don’t wear engagement rings as well…). Anyway, diamonds—I don’t want one. Rather I would like a ring that is more casual or vibrant or…me—perhaps a wooden, bohemian look—but I’m not getting particular. I really like the stone turquoise…just throwing that out there.

Some people feel so pretentious because of the slightly larger stone donning their dainty finger.

True Story: I was hanging out with my sister at her house, and she had a group of friends over. One couple was engaged, and another was married. When the engaged girl, let’s call her Kate (oh wait, that was her name…) saw the married girl’s ring, she said: “wow, that’s so big.” Then turning to her meek fiancé she said in the most shrew-like voice, “why didn’t you get me one that big?” You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me. The fiancé looked like he had been cut to the core.

I’m not saying that all girls with diamond rings are tacky or materialistic. I realize that it’s a tradition like Christmas trees that most people don’t think of changing, and that’s fine. But people like the aforementioned Kate...have serious self-acceptance issues. This was one of the most pathetic things I had seen.

Basically, a ring is a symbol of a commitment. The size, carat, cut, clarity, whatever has no bearing on the ring's symbolism.

And I just don't like doing what everyone else does sometimes.

Something I will never understand:

Morbid Obesity.

I just read on MSN about this lady who is trying to be the world's fattest woman.

WHAT??!!???

I understand when people sometimes "let themselves go" and gain a few pounds or even people who become overweight. Not that it's impossible to be healthy, but sometimes financial circumstances don't allow you to buy quality food, genetics have predisposed you to have to work twice as hard as the next person to be in shape, you have failed to set aside time to exercise, you had kids, etc., etc., etc. I am understanding and sympathetic. Really, I am.

But being 600 lbs??

She spends $750 a week on food. She makes money by men paying to watch her stuff her face on the internet. We have some serious fetishes going on...This story was enough to make me want to throw up. This lady could feed all of Africa if she gave up her selfish endeavor. Not to mention, she could avoid, oh let's see...death, anyone?

I feel sorry for her poor, poor daughter that has to endure this.

Readers: Eat some broccoli or something today. Peace, love, and health :)

This probably is an extremely judgmental rant, but I just couldn't help expressing my disgust.

Mini rant

I'm really trying not to be selfish. Really.

BUT

On Mondays and Wednesdays I have class until 6:45, so I get home around 7:00. And I'm always starving. I've learned to deal with it because I'll hurry and make dinner and everything is okay.

So, to my disgruntlement, I walked in the door tonight on a "serious talk" my roommate was having with "someone." Naturally, I exited stage left to my room where I am forced to stay until their little verbal rendezvous is over. My body is screaming because its food clock has been unpleasantly surprised and disrupted.

I understand privacy....

BUT do you have to have your serious talks in the kitchen, silently forbidding everyone to enter, right at dinner time??