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October 10, 2006
Renouncing 'Sisterhood'
Maybe it's me. I've always suspected I was broken and maybe I am. Witness my inability to not post a new entry without using a title that starts with the letter R. It started as a lark, then became an obsession, now it's a frickin' albatross.
"Albatross!"
Oh, come on, you KNEW that was coming.
Your Honor, exhibit A: A transcript of a typical conversation I have with myself as soon as I start thinking about a new post:
"I'm going to write about insert insipid topic here , so the title will be ... Re- .... hmmm, what R word haven't I used? (after thinking for a few minutes and wishing I had a dictionary at hand, I click in the Moveable Type dropdown title box, type in an R and scroll down) Wow, I don' t think there are any more R words, at least not any GOOD R words (I'm nothing if not polysyllabic and, apparently, psychotic, since I speak to myself in an aside in my own aside. Hooo, boy.) ... Redundant? Repetitive? Regurgitation?? Maybe I should just give in and come up with a title that doesn't start with an R. But what will it start with? Should I go alphabetically and move on to S, like a good librarian? Or is that too regimented (Good word! Mental note!!) and expected. I know ... I'll go BACKWARDS through the alphabet and start this title with Q so that on the list of recent posts they will always be in alphabetical order. Hmm, but do I just break from the Rs or do I make an announcement, drawing attention to it? Now what's a GOOD word that starts with Q?"
Of course, by this time, I've either totally forgotten what I wanted to write about in the first place or I have wasted so much time trying to come up with a title that I don't have time to write anymore so I push it aside for another time, another day, another urge and lather, rinse, repeat.
Welcome to my madness. That is how I approach everything. And I wonder why I get nothing done.
Anyway, about the title. So I was sitting in a hotel room last week. I
was by myself, eating Chinese take out bought from a little
hole-in-the-wall restaurant in a very seedy part of Winston-Salem. As I
enjoyed my Kung Pao Shrimp out of a styrofoam container with a plastic
fork with a tall glass of water (ok, plastic cup) on the side, I began
flipping through the channels to see what was on.
Not used to having movie channels, I was excited to find out I had both free HBO and Showtime. Unfortunately, there was absolutely nothing on ... nothing but "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants". I once made a promise to myself that I would never watch any movie with the word 'sisterhood' in the title (or anything even remotely resembling a 'chick flick') but there I was, by myself in a hotel, 200 miles from home, no kids and only a tenuous connection with T via YahooIM holding me together. What can I say, I was weak.
I watched the whole insipid thing, amazed that anyone would think that a movie full of such stunningly unoriginal stereotypical cliches should even be made. I felt oddly ill afterwards, mostly from the saccharine sweetness. Ok, maybe a little from the MSG but really? The movie sucked. Is it just me?
I guess I just don't work like most women my age ... or any age for that
matter. Even though my life has, at times, resembled one, I don't
watch Lifetime TV movies. I don't get all weak for romance movies or
ballads. I don't swoon for Brad Pitt or other pretty boys. I don't like
lace and ruffles and pearls and sequins and beading and I have never
wanted to play dressup like a princess.
When I was little, I played with the other kids in my neighborhood. We played football and kickball and tag and 'Lost in Space' (oh, yes, I was the robot ... "Danger Will Robinson!"). As we grew up, the girls wanted to get together and do each other's hair. I opted to play with the boys and, consequently, became the best punter in the neighborhood. Rainy days, I stayed in and read ... sunny days, I climbed trees or walked alone into the woods and read.
I never liked the 'flock' mentality that most girls had. I didn't need a network of females to lift me up. I didn't need anyone, thank you very much. That's been my battlecry, anyway. So when I see a movie like "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" or "Under a Tuscan Sun" (which was on tonight), I feel a definite disassociation with the women they portray. And then I get angry because I am reminded of how broken I am, how definitely, utterly broken I continue to be.
Sisterhood? No thanks. As my favorite movie psycho once said "Go sell crazy someplace else. We're all stocked up here."
EDIT: As if you needed any more evidence, just look at the newest item on my Amazon wishlist. How hot is THAT?!?!
