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The fogs are lifting, 2002-02-12, 3:21 p.m.


Yesterday was such a down and depressed day. I'm only now coming out of it. Between my rash auction decision and just general moodiness, I'm not having a great day.

Or I wasn't. I'm starting to come out of it, partly due to a discussion at lunch about feminism which moved to perceptions of males and the use of the word 'manly'. This was good. A co-worker made the comment that if the womyn and interns weren't around he'd respond to a particular snarky comment made to him. This irked me as well, why should you censor your speech because someone of a particular sex was there? Does the penis give someone more abilities to listen to foul language? He didn't really have an answer to that. I asked him if men should recieve less respect from him - if respect was the reason he was not swearing around womyn. He didn't have an answer. We then moved to manly and perceptions of - what do we tell our children is manly? What do we say is acceptable? Do we, as I feel, say that everything makes up a manly man - manhood is whatever a male is. Or do we say that there are specifics on what man hood is and that it can only fall into certain boxes (for example, must have an adams apple, must like a certain kind of music, etc). Much like we as womyn say that we can't be hemmed in by stereotypes, we can not hem in males to a stereotype.

It was an interesting lunch. I think my fogs are lifting and I'm beginning to get out of my funk.

And school for tuesday is over. Yay.

Oh, for remembrance, a the lyrics to a song whose video made me cry. "Still Fighting It" by Ben Folds, written about his son(s).

Good morning, son.
I am a bird
Wearing a brown polyester shirt
You want a coke?
Maybe some fries?
The roast beef combo's only $9.95
It's okay, you don't have to pay
I've got all the change

Everybody knows
It hurts to grow up
And everybody does
It's so weird to be back here
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We're still fighting it, we're still fighting it
And you're so much like me
I'm sorry

Good morning, son
In twenty years from now
Maybe we'll both sit down and have a few beers
And I can tell you 'bout today
And how I picked you up and everything changed

It was pain
Sunny days and rain
I knew you'd feel the same things

Everybody knows
It sucks to grow up
And everybody does
It's so weird to be back here.
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We're still fighting it, we're still fighting it
You'll try and try and one day you'll fly
Away from me

Good morning, son
I am a bird

It was pain
Sunny days and rain
I knew you'd feel the same things

Everybody knows
It hurts to grow up
And everybody does
It's so weird to be back here.
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We're still fighting it, we're still fighting it
Oh, we're still fighting it, we're still fighting it

And you're so much like me
I'm sorry


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