What I hoped to find was insight into the heart of someone I love and admire. Not that my love or admiration would be diminished or elevated by what I found or didn't. That is the scientist part of me that always wants to know. The humanist part that wants to know why this was significant to you.
But yesterday's reading happened at a strange confluence of events - Sarah Palin's rebuttle of any incitement of the Tuscon shootings, the arrival of an unsolicited Frederick's of Hollywood catalogue and Virginia Woolf. By happenstance then the focus shifting to the feminist aspect of the work. On a different day, I might have thought to myself WOW! Women have come so far in 100 years. But, instead I think we don't seem to have come very far at all.
It is still too much about looks and not enough about true heart and especially not enough about brains. Too much shifting and no ownership. A pretty puppet put forth to attract our Madison Avenue brainwashed asses and to re-affirm the idea that an entire gender is not really capable of true intelligence or leadership.
Open your mouth little girl and swallow some more of the tasty Kool-Aid.
Cause when you do, you can shop and dress in impractical clothes simply to please a man. Really? I mean where is there a catalogue of men's clothes designed just to titillate women? Why do I need towering CFM heels and crotchless panties to entice a man to my bed? Why is this still the single thing that's put forth as sexy? Grrrrrrrrrrr.....
And then there is Woolf. The cool and rational thoughts calming irate thinking to a simmer. A nice slow simmer. The kind that can reduce the toughest thoughts to tender tasty bites. The cauldron that will hold those disparate thoughts and make a meal of them. Something nourishing. Something that feeds me.