plenty on my mind

I have lots to say right now, for some reason, and it's not all connected. So if you stay with this post for the long haul, good on ya.

I was reading this morning about the school shooting of Amish girls, and for some reason it affected me more than reading about the Dawson incident or any of the other attacks that have happened recently. I mean, for starters, it was an attack on the Amish--who have really, for serious, never hurt anybody. Like, I'm sure I've been cruel to people (not execute-me-cruel, but still, pretty mean), but who could find a reason to hate the Amish?

But I guess what really got me was the fact that the newspapers were speculating that the shooter held some sort of grudge, and that led him to single out the girls. He let the boys go. That brings up shades of the Polytechnique shooting, which is a story that has always held a particular creeping horror for me--and probably for every woman who's heard it. I don't think men fully understand how intensely vulnerable women feel sometimes. To be a victim of violence simply because you are female... it's something that is always in the back of your mind.

I am a feminist; I've never had the sort of problem with the word that many women my age seem to. I would say that I'm cautious about using the word only when I don't feel like getting into a fight about it. It gets exhausting to explain over and over again that feminists don't hate men, we want equality, and no, we don't have that equality yet. As for any emasculation that men have to suffer through while they adjust to women's changing roles, well, I refuse to believe that the male ego is any more fragile than a female's. At least men can still walk home alone at night, and they don't have to feel physically vulnerable if a man's gaze lingers too long.

But I've been thinking quite a bit lately about how much I've changed over the past six years or so. I used to have a reputation in high school for being opinionated and argumentative. I can still get into it if I care about something enough--but do I care less now? Have I just realized how little I actually know, and am refusing to shoot my mouth off about things I haven't actually researched in depth?

Or, have I sold out to the man? Have I become a half-hearted feminist? Is the fact that I don't stand up for myself as much any more connected to a quiet acquiescence of my role as female subject to a male will in a patriarchal world?

Alright, now we're getting theoretical. And while I often adore theory, my mind doesn't feel clear enough right now to sort it all out. So, on to the next thing I'm mad about. Which is, now that I think about it, somewhat connected.

There's a co-worker of mine--let's call him K--who has recently moved from working solely in the kitchen to having a few shifts hosting and bussing. He's trying to make the jump to server; this is the step in between. And every front of house shift he has, he's driven me batty. To put it succinctly, he's a whiny little bitch. That, however, may be a hold-over from the kitchen; this is seriously the whiniest kitchen staff I've ever encountered. But let's stay focused on K for now. I think you might not understand how intensely irritated I get with him because tones don't translate well over type. Anyway, in today's incident, we're both standing at the dish pit, scraping plates, when he says, "What I want to know is, why don't the hosts get tips?" What he really meant was, here I am, doing all the work for all you lazy-ass servers, and you're making all the money. I said, coldly, that the hostesses get tip-out. What I SHOULD have said was, "Not only do I do the serving for the table, I also end up bussing my tables and seating them a lot of the time, and I get paid less than minimum wage. I also have to put up with the hostesses making amateur mistakes AND listen to the kitchen staff bitch and moan, not to mention greet alarming rudeness from customers with a smile. I earn every damn penny I make, and you, sir, can shove it up your ass."

But I believe strongly in sucking it up and getting the job done. That's not to say I never complain or whine; I just believe that there is a time and a place for it, whereas it seems that most people I work with think that ALL time is THEIR time. I'm being paid (a paltry sum, yes, but it's still a paying job), so it's my duty to do my work.

I've had a lot of closing shifts lately. One thing the closing server has to do is assign side duties and make sure they're done. I hate assigning side duties because someone always has a problem with whichever one she got and whines. I also hate checking side duties and sections because, and call me crazy if you want, I feel strongly that we're all adults, and that it's demeaning to have someone go and check up on whether or not you accomplished your menial tasks correctly. This is unrealistic of me. And, I'm more than a little worried now that it has something to do with the fact that women are socialized to care if people like them.

Okay, I'm getting progressively sleepier, so I guess the final thing I have to rant about is those goddamn little bugs that swirl around in bunches, mating or socializing or whatever the hell it is they do. Why do they insist on congregating right in my jogging path? They fly right into my face and get mired in my sweat (ooh, gross), and I always end up with some live ones who've gotten stranded on my clothing when I get back inside. I've inhaled tons of them, too. It needs to get just a little colder so that they all DIE.