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Language Log

Saturday, Oct. 02, 2010 - 11:14 a.m.

Oh, well, you know. I've somehow learned not to let these things bother me. Well, it bothers me, but I try to ignore the fact that it bothers me. My mom, she watches too much damned Oprah and Dr. Phil, and seems to think that if I had issues like this, I would talk about it and it would be some kind of big, meaningful revelation. It's not meaningful, it's certainly not a revelation. It's just life; whatever, move along, nothing to see here. I'm not gonna tell her she pissed me off. What's the point? She's always been slow to catch up to whatever I'm doing; looking back at whatever I was doing before something changed and asking why it isn't the same. It's like asking me in summer why I'm not still wearing the heavy winter coat.

Still, as much as I've been contemplating lately how I'm falling victim to the whole woman-trying-to-fulfill-too-many-roles thing (in my own lax-ass way), I see where it comes from. We do it to ourselves, and if we don't, someone else applies the pressure for us. I have been trying to stay aware of these bigger pressures on me as a woman in this place at this time, and cut myself some slack. Trying.

Someone please tell Spigotbottom that 15 minutes does not constitute a fucking nap.

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