Recently I have been visiting a lot of family members as I am home from university and they all like to see me and make me eat loads etc. Today I saw my grandmother, a kind old country lady with good morals and an even better cake tin.
However, today's visit left a somewhat sour taste in my mouth due to the fact that we have very different views on what is expected of women. Call it a generational thing, it probably is due to that, but basically she believes women belong in the home with the children. I on the other hand believe women belong wherever the fuck they want to be. This creates tension most of the time and I'm like whatever usually but today was different.
One of my cousins is expecting a child, he is like 23 or something and his girlfriend is roughly the same age. My grandmother adores it because it means she will become a great grandmother who can fuss and dote all over the little baby n'aww (the baby is also a boy so all the clothes she has made for it are blue but that was too sensitive a subject for me to criticise honestly). I don't really care because babies and children in general irritate me. They don't have respect for those around them, they don't know anything and all in all they are just annoying and loud and they are gross. Fine if you want to have a child, but don't expect me to like them just because they are little and 'cute'.
This came across to my grandmother and my mother when I said all of this to them. Instead of a normal response (Oh OK that's a little harsh but I get your point) the response I got was 'Oh well you're a woman you will have to grow to love them'.
Here is a list of things wrong with that statement:
1. I am capable of having children. I have a uterus. That does not mean I have to love anything that may come out of it.
2. Just because I have a uterus does not mean I have to fill it with baby.
3. I usually get bored before I learn to love things; I love things or I don't it is not a process whereby I force myself into it.
Yes maybe when I am older I will want children, but if I still do not does that make me less of a woman? Will I be cast out onto the streets for being childless and alone? Will my uterus rot away and my boobs fall off because I'm not enough of a woman? WHY CAN'T I JUST DO WHAT I WANT GODDAMMIT
I just found one of my oldest friends new artsy blogs. She is an art student at Glasgow School of Art and her latest project involved hugging clay into funny shapes and then putting it on white blocks and ta daa it's art.
She writes on this blog about all the profound artsy proverbs and bullshit that inspires her in life, the pseudo-intellectual tittle tattle that thrives in art schools and universities in general nation wide. And it made me think; why am I not clever. Then I went through an entire angry process before I realised that in fact I am clever, I am just clever in a less bullshit way. It is easy to scoff at art students, like way too easy, and as a sociology student I will take any chance I can to look down on someone else (most people hate us).
She thrives in talking about how bits of ice melting on the ground in her last show represent how nature changes and alters the environment around it (no joke). But that is not being clever; that is learning how to spin bullshit in a way which will make middle class mothers coo and say how clever you are. I am not saying my friend is not clever, she is extremely clever, what I am saying is that this spinning of bullshit can not be a substitute for actual life changing, ground breaking knowledge. This ice melting cannot change the world, or remotely explain our position within it. The things she learns from art school will never influence world politics, or challenge social unjust. Yes, art CAN do these things, but ultimately it boils down to actual understanding of the world, not understanding of how clay alters when clasped to a body.
I have always been cynical of art. I hate art galleries, I hate when people talk about art and the vast majority of the time I cannot stand artistic types. I hate how my friends mothers pay more attention to those who study art, asking in depth questions at every opportunity. Most of all I can't stand the fact that art takes presidency over actual intellect. This may stem from jealousy that my degree subject is not taken seriously by ANYONE and the most bullshit degree in the whole entire world is taken as the holy fucking grail and anyone that studies it is the dalai fucking lama. But now the jealousy has turned to rage; rage at those who appreciate art more than sociology, rage at art snobbery, and, most of all, rage at myself for letting it get to me so much.
(I submitted this to The Vagenda blog a while ago, as they have not yet published it I have decided to publish it here)
Pretty much every time I start a new relationship,
cystitis clasps my urethra into burning submission, taking with it all
the joy and love i usually have for my general vagina area. For a long
period of time I thought this was due to the fact that some higher power
was not allowing to be happy (true fact, but I'm only young OK forgive
me this). After a few more occurrences I began to realise the main
problem...it was willies. Willies in my vagina. They just go in and out
for a while until I'm left with burning urine for a few days.
After much googling (believe me it was a lot) I discovered
this was called 'honeymoon cystitis'. I foolishly thought this meant i
could only get it from sex once because you only have one honeymoon, but
apparently it does not. It's now 4 years after the first time I got
cystitis, and I have managed to climb the ranks from 'honeymoon' to
'recurring', meaning you get it LOADS and it's always pretty bad.
'Weeping in a cold bath at 5 am whilst you try and pee into the water
whilst thinking you may also shit yourself because you're pushing so
hard' kind of bad. On top of this comes a fever and general 'weepiness'
which is often triggered by the fact that you look down and see blood in
your wee. Whenever blood is coming from your bladder and corresponding
tubes you know you're having a bad time.
I've tried a lot of treatments in the past. I've had
antibiotics, which worked but proceeded to leave me with a bout of nasty
thrush which provided about as much genital-related sadness as I can
handle for the rest of my life. After that I tried these home treatment
sachet things you dissolve in water which work sometimes but not others,
depending on brand and severity. On top of that they are also pretty
expensive and as a student I can't keep shelling out to stop my pee
burning 6 to 8 times a year. A good at home remedy instead of these
sachets is just using bicarb dissolved in water, which tastes awful and
turns blackcurrant squash an odd grey-y green if you mix it with that to
try and get it to taste better. I've also tried leaving it to clear up
on it's own, drinking loads of cranberry juice and 18 liters of water
every second, which can go one of two ways. Option 1: You get better in 2
days and it feels great that you beat that monster using only liquids
and you are such a strong woman woo, Or, Option 2: You get a kidney
infection and you can't leave the house for a couple of weeks and when
you do you cower at the sunlight. (both of these have happened to me,
trust me it's a dangerous game).
Because my cystitis is usually caused by sex (high fives
all round) I have tried all the things to stop this from being the case.
Peeing before and after sex, lots of lubricant, less 'hardcore' sex,
drink cranberry juice all the time, keep hydrated, wash yourself lots,
wear cotton underwear, try sleeping with someone whose penis isn't quite
so big. None of these things have worked for me. NONE OF THEM. I have
become resigned to fact that my body was just built in a way which means
my urinary tract is easily squish-able by things which enter my vagina,
which means loads of little bacterium run to it and try to help but
whoops they make me run to the bathroom every 47 seconds where the only
liquid leaving my body is the tears from my eyes when my entire lower
half burns like Joan of Arc.
