Do you consider yourself a feminist? I like to think of you as an ultrafeminist but I bet I'm wrong.
I don't know. I mean, I believe that every person should be treated equally and paid equally, and that there is a structure of oppression in our culture that convinces girls they have to look a certain way and act a certain way that is detrimental to their health and well being. I also believe that even in my lifetime, I see that diluting, and that the amount of time it takes to change how men and women have thought about each other for centuries is something our impatient minds can't comprehend fully, so we get disillusioned and give up and accept that certain ideas will always exist, which is why it's important to have activists who keep chipping away for the ideal. I think it's easy to surround yourself with people who think like you, and perceive it as the world changing, when in fact most people still don't think that way. So it's important to remember how women are treated around the world, and how the opportunities I got as a little girl are in fact fantasy for most little girls. I personally like men who want to protect me to an extent, but if I was a lesbian, I would like girls who did that too. It's just who I am. I crave security from someone elses hand, and frankly there are lots of guys I've met like that too. But I would never trade that personal want for a life of being told I had limitations to my intelligence and to my role in society.
I think it's most important to believe in the right of the individual to exist, and the responsibility of a society to protect that individuality, because it's where creativity and ingenuity come from, and it's a waste as a culture to not draw upon and learn from all your available resources ie every super computer we have in each of our fragile little egg skulls. Also, it's evil and immoral to treat anyone as less valuable than someone else.
Are our parents' generation completely stupid, irresponsible and crazy (as of 2010, if not before) or is this simply the typical, clichéd, aeons-old griping one generation always does to the preceding?
I mean, the problem with this question is that yes, our parents' generation is completely stupid, irresponsible, and crazy, but so is our generation. And the generation after us. And the generation after that. And the one after that. And after that. Get my point? That's why we're always bitching about each other. It's like being the girl with the teddy bear bookbag making fun of the kid with the cat bookbag. Or something. No, it's nothing like that.
Why have I never gotten a good haircut in my life?
There are several reasons for this, one of them might even make sense.
1) Do you find yourself attractive? I'm not talking about thinking you're the hottest thing in the universe, necessarily. But do you like to look at your own face? If you don't find yourself pretty or even at least pleasant, then you're not going to be capable of choosing a good hairstyle for yourself. Let someone else do it.
2) Going right along with that - find a hair stylist you like, based completely on a shallow evaluation of their clothes and hair and demeanor. Then tell that person to do whatever they want to your head. When I go in for a haircut, I say one word - short, and I let them do the rest. If you don't like it, it's hair, it grows back. Also there is a wonderful invention called scissors, and I use them frequently if I don't like something.
3) Finding a cheap good haircut is like finding a miraculous rock that weeps champagne. So pay some money for a really good one like the rest of us, and experiment with places, and someday that one person will show up who does everything right all the time, and then you'll tell all your adoring friends about them, and then you'll never be able to get an appointment again or they will move to Las Vegas, or something. This is the hair stylist cycle. Love and loss.
4)Are you a baby elephant? If so, you are just fucked. Wear a hat. Because then you will be a baby elephant in a hat, which is awesome.
I personally have never gotten a bad cut from the guys at Crazy Mullets on W.150th and Detroit, on Monday mornings. I have no idea about the rest of the week, but that's magic time over there. Emily or Jake. Or Erica, but she's never there then.
Why?
Because when I asked the giant metal robot that lives underneath the broken bridge next to the glass factory, he told me this was the only way you were ever going to get home.
What if I nominated you for Cleveland's Sexiest Singles?
First of all, it would be weird. Second, I'm too fat, for a girl. If I was a guy, it would probably be okay. Third, I don't make enough money. Sex = money. Fourth, I spend more time at home with the cats than I do at bars, so I think I'm disqualified automatically. Fifth, last time I checked, the definition of sexy was not "able to tell you funny stories of depraved and debaucherous one night stands until you sleep with her just to shut her up and find out if that one thing is really true."
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