Arn't I A Woman?

“Gold in its raw form appears dull and does not glitter.” Like most girls my age, I grew up on Lisa Frank; to this day I have never loved a boy as much as I loved my original Lisa Frank trapper keeper.   And as a feminist I deliciously delight in non-ironically reappropriating the pink colorful glitter images Frank iconized as celebratory and powerful rather than weak and flippant.   So while groggily sitting on my parent’s back deck this morning where I have been living for the past 6 months due to some of those wonderful life-likes-to-kick-you-in-the-ass-unforeseen-circumstances, I’m half enjoying my day off thanks to the long holiday weekend and half suffering through pangs of loneliness, deeply isolated from the glitzy city lights of Atlanta 30 miles away. As I scroll through my friends’ posts and pictures of their frolicking late night adventures around Dragon Con this weekend, adorned in pink wigs, high heels, outrageous costumes, and ridiculously (yet genuin...

I think I may be the world's loneliest whale. Speaking a foreign language as I slowly navigate the globe, sending out words at a frequency no one can hear. Having just reached the tender age of 28, I've hit the first wave of friends undergoing traditional rites of passages that frequently demand isolation from their friends upon completion (generally for practical purposes but hurtful none the less): the holy adulthood trinity of getting engaged/married, starting a family, and/or moving away. And instead of saying "wave" I should probably say "tsunami." In December I had ONE pregnant friend. Fast forward three months later and I know five expectant mothers; just in the past past week three friends have announced engagements on facebook; and one of my last remaining close friends is moving away, solidifying the end of a growing rift adulthood had bestowed upon us. Not to mention brutally watching a close friend bury her 31 year-old husband. As I grow...