I have, at least, been taking some real feminist action lately, so I don't have to be quite so ashamed of not living up to my little box in the lower left-hand corner. On Saturday I met with a woman from the Washington Toxics Coalition, and it was pretty exciting because they are really getting stuff done--getting laws passed and generally making the world nicer and less carcinogenic. So that's good.
I've also gotten out and dusted off an essay I wrote for, but for some reason never submitted to, Bust magazine. I plan to send it in by next week. So, yay.
And I'm practicing being quiet. My problem is that as a child, I was very, VERY shy--so shy that my mom had to force me to order my own Happy Meal at McDonalds, because I was afraid of the McDonalds cashier.
So over the years, I have forced myself to talk, and I've gotten reasonably good at it. Most people who know me now don't realize that I am terrified of my fellow human beings. The problem, though, is that I've kind of overcompensated, and now I generally feel that any pause in any conversation is my responsibility, and so I fill it with babble.
Red wine doesn't help.
But I can shut up when I put my mind to it, and I'm putting my mind to it now.
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