A few Saturdays ago I went over to Brad's to hang out and we were flipping through the channels and came across the NCAA women's softball tournament.
For some reason I felt like watching for a bit; I think it has to do with my new fascination with baseball.
OK, so, how do I say this without being offensive??
I think softball is a huge insult to women.
I mean, who was like "OK, girls. You can play baseball, but there's a catch....
You have to play with this." (Hands over humongous ball)
I mean, have you seen our hands?? Way to set us up for success there fellas.
(Even more insulting is that it's BRIGHT YELLOW...as if we might have trouble seeing the goddamn thing in the first place).
Additionally, I couldn't help bursting out laughing everytime, well, I looked at the screen.
From the ridiculous manner in which pitches are thrown (all of this violent pumping of the arms like some vaudevillian madman and superfluous swaying back and forth...just to throw it
u n d e r h a n d), to nothing really happening (I think I saw one hit by Cal off the UA 'pitcher'), to a bunch of valley girls with big ol' helmets blocking their vision, I couldn't help thinking
"What is this silly sport and how did we get lured into playing baseball dress-up?"
I understand that softball is a fun and leisurely recreational activity; it can help foster amicable relations between co-workers and provides many companies with a way to boost employee morale. Also, it's a great end-of-picnic transition to the inevitable all-out drink fest which follows.
But I really think women/girls should be playing real baseball like the rest of their male counterparts.
Now that I think about it, I think that Ultimate Frisbee should be an Olympic sport.
Last Friday at happy hour I had the pleasant surprise of running into an old friend from Syracuse/ROTC. We talked pretty much the whole evening about where everyone, including ourselves, were in life, etc. (For the record, I consider myself post post-college; I've just made it out of the abyss and I'm desperately trying to lift myself out onto the ledge. I guess we'll see if I have the upper-body strength).
Of course after a few drinks the conversation opened up and, during one point, he said "Wow, Em. Didn't know you were such a romantic!"
Usually a statement like that is more of a rhetorical device people use (like "Wow, ____. Didn't know you were such an asshole/Jessica Simpson fan/race car driver!)
However, I sensed that he really was telling me that he didn't know this fact about me, so I followed up.
"Really?" I asked
"Yeah!" He said. "I just had no idea..."
This led me to confess my own perception of him during college and sparked a great conversation about how we thought each other was and then how we 'really' are.
What I mostly took away from it was that perceptions are nifty creations.
Also, that I think some guys don't consider me romantic because I can be sarcastic and silly and that intimidates them.
Oh, and that I should really slow down on the half-priced drinks.
I have a hard time accepting certain things because I just don't see why they have to be that way.
DC Capital Pride Fest ended this past weekend.
I really don't know what to think about "pride" anymore. In college I was all about it. Back then I considered myself a 'straight ally' (in fact, my real pride in college was an overall iconoclastic lifestyle) fighting for marriage rights, adoption, equality, etc. Also, I may have had ambiguous feelings for other females at one point or another and participating in the SU Pride Union certainly let me feel like that was OK.
The college 'pride' scene is so different when compared to the one after college. I think people get to college and obviously feel much freer; they are just so grateful to be able to get together with people they never had the chance to before (this obviously goes for all college groups/clubs). The cause is sincere and, for the most part, unified.
Now, however, I really don't feel there's a such thing as a 'gay community' out here in the Real World (this could very well just be DC). The gay guys have their own agenda/sub-groups/lifestyles; so do the lesbians; and the two are quite different.
Not that that's a huge surprise or anything, but for example, I recently went to a gay bookstore (I like all bookstores, OK?) and I was browsing the gay-guy books and they were all filled with either pictures, illustrations, erotica etc. I then looked through the female material and all of it was words, theories, dissertations-blah blah blah. Any erotica was in short-story form and involved (what I consider) nasty images of leather, and, well, let's just say "blech." Overall, just so typical. Not that I was really looking for anything in particular (that whole thing is definitely not my bag). But it was interesting to observe the blatant differences.
So Capital Pride struck me as almost a farce. The parade was none-too-exciting. The only 'exciting' part was when the old-school leather men drove by...half naked in their S&M garb (including those funny little policeman hats and combat boots), dancing to mid-'90s house music, etc--then again, they're always an amusing sight. However, they didn't make me want to clap/cheer out of 'pride.' Neither did 'dykes on bikes.' (Yeah. Not so much.)
The street festival was equally as silly; booths set up by a smorgasbord of non-profits who seem to want my money just so they can set up a booth next year; the same old food vendors who show up to any street festival selling teriyaki chicken and gyros; a stage with some temporarily-amusing dancing gay cowboys and then boring lesbians performing "All That Jazz."
(I eventually left the street fest for the National Gallery of Art's Toulouse-Lautrec & Montmartre exhibit--great stuff!!)
I feel like this bullet point just got really cynical about gay pride. Maybe it did; whatevs. The 'movement' just seems kinda lame to me.
Yesterday was my first day of training at the Capitol City Brewing Co., "DC's first brewery since Prohibition." It was a good time--we got to sample all of the food and beers (!).
There was a (jappy) girl in my group who, after sipping the hoppy and dry Amber Waves Ale, spit it out and proclaimed "Pyuck! Why is that so bitter??"
I also had to help her fill out her W-4 because she didn't know what an 'exemption' was.
Now even though I'm a glorified receptionist picking up a second job, for a moment I felt good about myself for being able to appreciate a good brew and knowing how to fill out my tax forms.