I had to do a freewrite on pet peeves for my creative nonfiction class. I thought I’d post it here for fun. (cross-posted to my writing site)
Pet Peeves
I have so many little pet peeves, so many little things that get under my skin and irritate me. But if they are little things, why do I let them bug me? Why do I even give them thought long enough to let them fester so that my blood starts to boil a bit, eyes narrow, pupils dilate, breathing quickens, and blood pressure elevates just a little. Why do I let it get even that far? Just the thought of writing this paper, having to think of my pet peeves, examine them, give them some contemplation – and possible legitimacy – raises my anxiety level. Maybe if I ignore them they will just go away. And they do, but only partially. Having been dismissed instead of dealt with they are like a mostly-removed splinter – forgotten until infection sets in.
I could still talk the livelong day about pet peeves. I have so many. After last week, which was new student registration at the school where I work, I am tired of email. I am so tired of email that when I get home from work I refuse to check my own. I get hundreds of emails at work and even though the ones at home are mostly pleasant they are still demanding in some way. And I am a bit tired of so many people demanding this and that and just a little piece of my time here and there (all via email) and it just piles up into a lot of time. So much that it is turning into a pet peeve also. I just want to finish my senior year, try to enjoy it a bit, and graduate without losing my sanity and the patience of my husband. Oh, and I guess I don’t want to lose my patience, either, considering I have thought of taking a hammer to my computer.
Recently I have also been the subject of my pet peeves. Yes, I am pissing myself off. As I get older, I am less willing to let men degrade me, walk all over me, treat me as a sexual object for their enjoyment, and then expect me to act like it’s okay. I’m not flattered; I’m insulted. But I still don’t know when to choose my battles and that is what gets me angry with myself. But I am also tired of men that are scared of losing the status quo, their perceived power, their little boys’ club, and feeling threatened when a self-assured woman walks into the room. Because what do they do? They attack her. And I need to learn when to fight back. When is it worth it and when is it not?
A few days ago, a man made a disparaging comment on a message board about women’s menstrual cycles and I told him he was generally insulting all women when he said that (based on what he said and the crudeness of it). I said a few sentences. He came back with five paragraphs about his respect for women, but also how reactions like mine were why guys don’t like women on fishing boats. I think he protested just a little too much; I must have hit a sore spot. I still don’t believe he really respects women. But I knew better than to respond – before I even said anything, I figured what I had to say would result in an inflammatory reply. Unfortunately, I was correct.
I wonder, though, when I react to comments like that if I am being too sensitive and on the watch for misogynistic remarks? Am I trying to be too politically correct? At what point is it okay for me to point out what is acceptable for me to feel comfortable around someone and at what point is that controlling and over-sensitive?
I get frustrated when we have to watch everything we say because it might hurt someone’s feelings. It annoys me. So when I point out that men are devaluing women, am I falling into that trap of trying to tell someone how to think, feel, and act? I don’t want to do that.
But at the same time, I am so fucking tired of men acting like I am inferior because I have boobs and a vagina. It pisses me off. I think they are really scared because they know I am smarter than they are and they don’t know how to deal with that because their daddy always told them they would get everything they pointed their little penis at. And now the world is changing and they are pointing their penis and it isn’t working and they are scared shitless because now what do they do? They attack the women that they think are the root of the problem. Not their inadequacies.
And I should know, deep down, that it’s not really personal. I should get over it, find people like my husband that aren’t Neanderthal men, and raise children that don’t think that way. But how will the world change if no one points it out? I still don’t know which battles to choose to fight. And maybe I’ll still keep choosing the wrong ones. But it won’t stop me from fighting. Not by a long shot.
