Q. How many men does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A. One - he just holds it up there and waits for the world to revolve around him.

Let's just get it out in the open: I hate men. I really do. I'm not speaking in some broad all-encompassing gender study kind of way. I'm talking about individually. As a daughter, wife and romantic partner, completely self-centered men have surrounded me. All of these men have expected me to fill some kind of role in their lives - never once considering that maybe I won't neatly fit into a preconceived category just because I have ovaries. They all claim that they support all things feminist, but let me tell you, the misogyny is there bubbling under the surface. When I'm assertive, I'm bitchy (and probably suffering from pre-menstrual syndrome). When I wanted a divorce, I was selfish. When I decided marriage wasn't for me, I was immature and immoral. When I got fed up with financially supporting another man for a ridiculous amount of time while sacrificing my education and career goals, I was accused of not honoring commitment ("...that's what commitment is about..."). When I acknowledge that I'm a sexual being, I'm a slut. When I demand a satisfying relationship, I'm unrealistic. When I express the desire to have a child, it's thought that I'm trying to unfairly "trick" a man into some 1950's notion of responsibility. When I express any intellectual thoughts or theories, I'm patronized, because after all, I'm just a woman. What it all comes down to is that if I'm not living my life without prioritizing the impact it will have on these men first, I'm leading my life the wrong way. The idea that men are so concerned with the image reflected on them by the actions of the women in their life is quite frankly insulting.

Song of the day: "Land of Canaan" - Indigo Girls

I am allergic to everything. Including myself. I just had to let everyone know.

"The Motorcyle Diaries" was absolutely fantastic, and not just because it had Gael Garcia Bernal portraying one of my favorite Marxists...although it did help.

It was wonderfully subtle, which I liked...I was actually dreading a scene where the clouds would part and Che would see the light of crimson tide (that would be communism, folks, not menstruation). And the scenery (besides Bernal) was fantastic.

A lot has transpired as of late. For one, I quit my job. Unfortunately, my last day isn't until January 29, but there's at least a light at the end of the tunnel. I'm moving to northern California with Jason McCann. I know. I surprise even myself.

My family is divided on the decision. Half (my mother and assorted sisters) are supportive and hold their reservations to themselves. The rest (father and assorted sisters) are "stunned and speechless", so much so they have decided to stop talking to me altogether. You'd think I'd announced I was starting a cult or something. Oh well. I can't very well expect these people to treat me as the adult that I am if they don't behave that way in the first place.

In other news, I went back to Maryville this weekend for an extended period of time. Michael Moore was in town to speak at Northwest. Never thought I'd see the day, actually. He gave a solid predictable speech, and extended much warmth to the twelve Young Republican demonstrators. They didn't appreciate it. Actually, I'm not sure they registered it. Every time he spoke directly to them, they looked like a deer caught in headlights. It was a tad funny.

I saw people there I hadn't thought about in years. All the liberals I've known over the years, who all stuck together like glue at that school, came back for the occasion. It was quite a big deal, when you think about it. After Mr. Moore and La Bonita (they still serve bef chucks) and catching up with Lisa and Matt, we Pubbed it. Oh, The Pub. It hasn't changed. There were two bands performing, Vago and Lovetap. Vago had a lead singer/guitarist on remote who finished up the last song playing a solo while running through the bar. I think I may have come close to shooting Diet Coke out of my nose. He almost fell over Lisa and Jason. Good times, kids.

Other than that, there's not much going on. I got beat up by a client while driving on Mass Street on Tuesday. It was so bad, I had to pull into a parking space and wait for someone to come help. During the time I was there, getting my glasses broken, arms, neck and back scratched, hair yanked, clothes ripped, etc., not a single person stopped to see if I needed help. That's kind of disturbing. I ended up in the ER, and got a tetanus shot. Yeah, that was fun. Then I had to go back to work and finish out the other ten hours of my shift. If I hadn't already quit, I would have done so. I thought about quitting again.

The good news is I'm going to see Death Cab tomorrow night. And let me tell you, I need some good times right about now.

Song of the day: "This Charming Man" - Death Cab (covering The Smiths)