graceland's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A Sunday with Questions The Monster didn't show up for the party. All that anxiety for nothing. And in my small mind, I win. Last week I spent the day in brooklyn with a good friend. Today, I called up myfriendJen and invited her to meet me for lunch. After calling her, I decided to reach out to a friend of mine I haven't seen in a while; par for the course, I couldn't reach him. Then I decided to call an old friend of mine who is married and has a daughter. They live in Queens. It was a shot in the dark, but she always chastises me that I count her out just because she has a child and she's right. My friend is probably more active that I am - with that child. I caught her just as she and her daughter were coming in the door and had just taken off their shoes and sat down. She said that maybe they would come. As I hung up, I had a strange thought for a moment. I've been having strong intuitive thoughts all week about certain people. Today, I thought, I wonder how her marriage is and how long she will be happy being the sole breadwinner while her husband pursues his art. They are a lovely couple, truly one of my favorites. I love them both even though she's my rightful friend. Married 13 years, if anyone can maintain love and a relationship, I've always looked to them as a model. I bitch a lot with my friends about how no men these days seem to want to Step. I've talked about it here before - these guys who quit their jobs without a care in the world and my girlfriends who continue to work for The Man to support their men. This friend of mine has never griped about that. Until today. It would appear that they are in couples therapy, because she's finally tired and asking these questions nearly all of my friends have asked - what if I want to stop working? Who will support us? When is it my turn for a break? My friend, who is an amazing artist in her own right, and one of the most liberal, free-thinkers you could meet, admitted today that she's come to the realization that she's a traditional woman. She wants a man who can provide for his family. She wants that veral, traditional man. And her husband is not stepping up to the plate. It wasn't so surprising to hear this; this story, in fact, is getting old. What is surprising, is that it's so common around New York City. Being this global economic life force, where people come with ambitions and drive to make money and leave, I've had this misconception that everyone's here to produce and that's just not the case at all. I almost wonder who IS working here, beside the female population? These Wall Street men we saw in 80's movies - they may work here but they don't live here. They get out of dodge and go home to their families, I think. Not that I'm looking for a Wall Street guy. Far from it. But when I think of a working man, a provider, I do think of that stereotype. So another one joins the club. What is happening to our generation? Who is to blame for this? I have a fierce desire to assemble a panel of those 70's feminists - Steinem, Jong, Paglia - and tell them what my generation of women is dealing with and ask them if this was the model they anticipated. Is this what they wanted for us, their daughters of the movement that was their life's work. Have we really gotten ahead? Or, have we taken on more work with less fulfillment? Have we grown into better educated fools? Idiot savants who work for The Man, to provide for our men? Some part of me thinks that we will never win this war we wage as women. We will never lose the responsibility of procreation and even as we advance careerwise, it will set some of us back as we stop to reproduce. Men will never fully understand the emotional spectrum of being a woman. Women as a whole will not stop sexually desiring men. With no alternative, women will continue in motion. No answer. Lots of questions. I need a mentor. I may write to Steinem. I have a lot of questions. 10:58 p.m. - 2006-03-26 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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