Monthly Archives: June 2011

Attention Women: Stop Crying!

I was inspired to write this blog by the above video. And, yes, I am well aware of the fact that it is probably fake. The authenticity of the video makes no difference to me because there are actually women like this in the world. Women who cry about everything.

Recently I found myself screaming at the TV “STOP CRYING” while watching MasterChef auditions. Now, some of the things the judges say can be hurtful (and the meanest things aren’t even coming from Gordon Ramsay, I could dedicate an entire blog to what a pompous asshole Joe Bastianich is, but we’ll save that for another day), but these particular tears were not even the result of insults. A woman, who was a very articulate attorney, started crying and begging them to let her move into the next round. The food got lukewarm reviews – not turrible, but not MasterChef-worthy either. Her cooking was not up to snuff. Instead of walking away gracefully, this woman actually put her hands into prayer position and was crying and pleading like a three-year-old girl. It was disgusting. But, the most vile part was that the judges put her through to the next round because “They saw something in her.” Really?! What I saw in her was a spoiled little brat who has been able to manipulate men her whole life because she is an attractive woman who can turn on the waterworks.

Way to set back the women’s movement, brat. Whether it’s a correct view or not, crying is seen as a sign of weakness in this country and I am of the belief that it should be avoided at all costs when you’re in the workplace/professional situation. I know, I’m a cold, heartless bitch, but you know this already. I think I have cried twice in front of co-workers and I am completely ashamed of myself. Once was over a boy (of course) and once was over being threatened by a co-worker. Both times I ran into the bathroom and pretended like the water never came out. You know why, Hilary doesn’t cry.

I know, you’re thinking I just jumped the shark, but hear me out. I look up to Hilary, not for her marriage (although I would nail Billy-boy in a second!) but for her balls. I love how she can walk into a room filled with military men and they shut the fuck up and show her respect. I like that she has worked her way to the top and has only minimally used her husband’s past post (I know, that’s debatable)  to get what she wants. She’s no one’s fool, not even Bill’s (come on, she knew about Monica the whole time) and I like that. Even if you’re not into that extreme coldness, I believe that in the workplace women need to demand respect. They need to be seen as being on-par with men if there is any way that we have a chance to break through the glass ceiling.

Here’s the thing, men don’t cry at work. Men don’t stress about someone gossiping about them, they confront it. They don’t get all teary if someone criticizes their work in a meeting, they either take the feedback or try to rationally plead their case. They don’t beg people to like them or their work. And they’re more likely to be in charge than women.

Hilary never had a shot at being president because there are still those who believe “a woman would make irrational decisions while she’s on her period” or “women are too sensitive and soft to be tough with our enemies.” Whose fault is that? Yes, it’s partly people just thinking archaically about women, but it’s also the fault of everyone with a vagina. Until we start holding women to the same emotional standard (in the workplace) that we hold men to, we will be seen as the weaker sex. The more irrational sex.

Did this blog make you sad? Please, wait until you get home to start crying and feeling sorry for yourself.

Tagged , , , ,

The Desire to Move is Always There

Ever since I was in high school I couldn’t wait to get out of Orange County and, one day, out of California. I always knew that I was just a little bit different. While my classmates were getting BMWs (and complaining that they weren’t brand new), I was in love with my 1988 Volkswagen Jetta. I was never into materialistic things, I don’t like the beach, and my skin burns the second I step outside. Long story short, I just wasn’t made for California.

The farthest I have ever gotten away from Orange County is San Francisco and boy did it rock my world. I spent three years there for college and I came back a completely changed person. After living and loving a diverse and socially accepting city like SF, it was tough to come back to Orange County. It’s not that I didn’t have friends or that I was completely unhappy, I just have always felt like a square peg in a round hole.

So, the plotting began. My first target location: Seattle. I spent one weekend there and I fell in love. The walkability (yeah, I know it’s not a real world, but you get the idea!) of the city, the diversity, the green, and the weather, I LOVED it all. So I looked and looked for a job. I figured out where I would wanted to live… and nothing ever came about it. You see, as much as I would love to be spontaneous, I am a huge over-thinker and the thought of moving somewhere before I have a job gives me palpitations.

So, I worked a few years at a job that I realized was going nowhere, I got out of a doomed relationship, and I started plotting my move, this time to Austin. Everything I read gave the city rave reviews about employment rates, food, and entertainment. After a long weekend (are you seeing a trend? It doesn’t take me long to love a city more than I love Southern California) I was hooked. Again, I could walk everywhere, I could eat myself silly with all the BBQ and the job prospects were pretty awesome. The job I was working at was offering a buyout and it was enough money to support me for a few months while I moved to Austin and looked for a job. I was going to do it! I was going to make a bold move and take a chance.

THEN, the unthinkable happened, I fell in love. Hard. And, the thing is, I’m not one to fall in love often. I spent most of my life NOT in a serious relationship, so of course I would find the love of my life when I had one foot on the plane. Oh, and of course this guy would be in LOVE with South Orange County and, here’s the kicker, his profession would only allow him to work in Orange County/LA or Detroit. I can’t say that Detroit ever made my long list of relocation prospects.

So, slowly but surely I have come to accept my fate and have started looking for the interesting offerings of Orange County. Since moving to San Clemente, I find myself liking it a little more and the constant inner screams of  “MOVE” have faded into a whimper. But, then I spent a weekend in Noblesville, Indiana and I think I would enjoy living in a small town on a few acres of land. I’ve also been looking into Deerborn, Michigan, a suburb of Detroit, where we could actually afford to buy a house. I hear it’s lovely in the winter…

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,