Tuesday, November 12, 2002

Lately, I've been fostering inadvertent appreciations to music I'd been previously hellbent on hating. The first, and by far most trafic, example that comes to mind is "Silver (motherfucking) Springs" by (god-foresaken) Fleetwood (goddamned) Mac. I was at work, in the kitchen when it came on the radio, and listening to it in the background, I heard the exact same lyrics that I had, in the past, mocked with vigorous cynicism- "And did you say she was pretty? And did you say she loves you? Baby, I don't want to know." As you might imagine, it's the genuine PUSSYNESS of this statement that had made me chuckle* at the very idea of it. The feminity factor of those lyrics is astounding...and laughable. However, hearing those exact same lyrics just a few days ago, my exact reaction- said in a pained, whining girl voice, was "Ohmygod, this song is so GOOD!"

The reaction came from the multiple ways one could relate a song like this to my own life, from my recent examination of painful past events that I'd put off thinking about for a while, from my sudden understanding of where the singer was coming from. If you want to get technical. If you want to look at it the way I soon thereafter looked at it, however, the reaction came from the fact that I AM TURNING INTO A GODDAMN WOMAN.

For those of you who have never met me, and do not know me in real life, (IE, some german guy who accidentally surfed in having typed "my daughter masturbates with me" into a search engine) my masculine side is very important to me. I have fought to keep it the prominent aspect of my personality. My contempt for a woman's irrationality, jealousy, and insecurity makes me run towards the man in me with the speed and determination of an olympic hurddlist. Having heard myself say somethign that was so indicative of my inner woman, my immediate response was to slap myself. Then, when I got the oppurtunity, I called Jeff.

The other day, Mark and I determined that Jeff and I had a gay relationship- as opposed to past relationships, where the male generally played the role of the female (sensitive, committed, deeply conversational) leaving me with the role of the guy (thick-skinned, unfaithful, reserved), Jeff and I's relationship was wrought with joking verbal abuse that didn't afford a female role at all. Jeff, consequently, was a great source of my masculinity- he was before and has been since our relationship, but I spent more time interacting with him, understandably, when we were together. This, truly, was a great time for the man in me. Bring on the porn, bring on the barbecue, bring on the mock-racist cruelty and scorching sarcasm. I was man, hear me fart.

When I called, Jeff was going to visit me for a few minutes and infuse me with a breath of stinking male air, but circumstances forbade, so he gave me a little pep talk and told me he hoped that, from then on, the radio and fate would be kinder and give me some slightly more macho music. I returned to the kitchen to fill some orders, and at crossed my fingers that the next song would be what I needed- harsh. Angry. Male.

The next song was "I Want Love" by Elton John.

The problem continues to grow. I'd been noticing symptoms for weeks before the Fleetwood Mac event, seeing a trend in the way I've become, once again, easily offended and emotionally demanding. I attribute this situation to my relationship with Zack- learning from the past, the way that mine and Jeff's joking exchanges sometimes hurt me and the way that my tendency to be less communicative with significant others than with friends had an ill effect on Jeff and I, I've made special effort to always explain my feelings, to make every attempt to share things with Zack that hurt me with him even when it seemed difficult. Happily, I am getting his support and empathy, and we seemingly work out every problem we have. On the other hand, however, this seems to be putting me more in touch with my feminine side, and this is a bit of a dilemna: I either live with the new sensitive me, or I risk losing the success of Zack and I.

In a sense, it's him or me. This of course, drags me back, even further into the sexual war that wages in me- my feminine side, of course, wants to sacrifice everything for someone else, wants to be unselfish (in practice, anyway) and give up everything that was once important to me in the holy name of love. My masculine side, however, is experiencing a flaring up of my survival instincts. Threatened, it is scratching and clawing it's way out, fighting off it's enemies with reckless desperation. It is a fighter, and it does not care what it brings down with it. I am a woman in conflict.**

Casey: you women and your damn emotions.
FieryGwenivere: Amen
FieryGwenivere: I'm a very androgynous person- half and half, I like to think- but as of late, estrogen is definitely winning the battle of the sexes. And slowly but surely, I am losing the battle I have with my testosterone-controlled arm not to drive a fork into my own eye.
FieryGwenivere: I'm actually forcing myself to eat red meat- which I hate- just in the hopes that the manliness of it will sink into my bloodstream
Casey: yes. dr. machismo prescribes much more contact with men.
FieryGwenivere: ....I'm such a sexually-minded person. I read that six times before realizing it said "machismo" and not "masochism"
Casey: that's what the good doctor's talking about.
FieryGwenivere: anyways, yes, I'm in very strong agreement. I hang out with males more than females, the problem is that 90% of the time it's Zack, and it's hard to act like a guy when you're getting eaten out.
FieryGwenivere: all my platonic male friends went to college.
FieryGwenivere: wait...that seems to imply that I've successfully had a purely platonic relationship with, well, anyone.
Casey: no, sex object is also acceptable.
Casey: you and I, without being too presumptuous.
FieryGwenivere: But I miss hanging out with guys more than you can imagine. Just not overly possible, what with them spread out farther than my legs.

I include this piece of conversation, thoughtfully, for two reasons- the first obviously being that it applies to what I've been saying, and the second being that Casey fucking rocks. I can't get over how impressed by him I constantly find myself. Today, he expressed concern for something he knew would hurt me, and that, by itself, made me feel better about it- the idea that he'd even think about me without specific, direct context, the fact that he was concerned for me, the implication that he gives some amount of a shit about me instead of just casually engaging in conversation with me, as expected, and, I don't know...the fact that he knew it would bother me. He also made reference to the possibility of seeing me socially in the future, and this, of course, pleases me endlessly. Because, as stated earlier, Casey fucking rocks.

There may or may not be a clean segue back into the original purpose of this post, which was to extol the virtues of a song by another artist I had previously been rather stubborn about hating, Bob Dylan. It's almost the time that I decided earlier I wanted to go to bed by tonight, though, and as unlikely as it is that I'll stick by that deadline, I do not wish to waste anytime finding that clean segue, so I'll just jump to where I was going- it seems that the song "Like a rolling stone" has gotten more radio exposure than normally lately, and I've taken something of an interest to it. Miss Sutton attempted to open our minds to Bobby, as she called him, in poetry, and I let it roll of my back at the time, put off by, what else, his fucking voice. However, the first time I heard it on the radio, recently, I was rather impressed with my own knowledge of the song, thanks to the class, and I sang along with the chorus. Since then, every time I tire of CYY or the Q and my radio dial wonders over towards...fucking 93.1, whatever it is, the song has played, and my interest has increased. I quite enjoy his lyrical prowess, enough to endure the squeaking gate of his voice. However, this is not the song I mean to get to, and I am running out of time quickly- in a complete coincidence, I was listening to "I only want to be with you" by Hootie and the Blowfish tonight- only hours after I finally downloaded "Like a Rolling Stone"- and as I looked up the lyrics (to "I only want to be with you", just in case you aren't keeping track) that my father and I had discussed as being senseless in the context of the song, I found that they were actually quoted from another Bob Dylan song. (On a side note, while the Hootie song was intended as a tribute to Dylan, he sued them for using his lyrics without permission and walked away with a large settlement.) The song the lyrics were stolen from was called "Idiot Wind", so I proceeded to check to see if they made any more sense in the context of that song then the one by his predecessors. Turns out they were by only a small margin, but there was more- the song as a whole, especially the ending, totally blew me away. I read it three times, maybe four or five, I can't remember now, but it's deserving of at least one look from you: if you've gotten this far into my blathering bullshit, you can definitely spare a few minutes for this. It's the last verses and chorus that really blow me away...but discover it for yourself.

That seemingly takes care of everything I have to say...everything prosaic, anyway. I did also mean to post yesterday's quote of the day, so without further ado:

Linda: (discussing with Zack the way he is mildly threatened by my relationships with ex-boyfriends) I promise you, there's nothign to worry about. The past is past, I'm not going to do anything with any of them- I love you. Are they the only ones you're at all threatened by?
Zack: I think so, yes.
Linda: Wow, how shortsighted of you.

I don't know how many of you will understand why that's funny, perhaps you had to be there...but fuck it, I was, I get it, it's my page. Anyways....8 minutes past four, and I should be in bed. So, yes, let's be concise and all- on with it.

*Originally "giggle". Stupid estrogen. **Fuck! Shoulda said "person in conflict".