2.16.2012

I Am Not A Woman


Copyright 2014 The Arty Hobo


I grew up during the feminist era, "I am woman hear me roar...," and "I can bring home the bacon... fry it up in a pan... 'cause I'm a wooooman-- W-O-M-A-N!" were anthems that were a part of the musical tapastry of my childhood.  However, in my mid-twenties,  I started to examine my life juxtapose to the idea of what a woman is suppose to be. I saw boys encouraged to seek out multiple women before settling down while girls were taught to be nice and save it for marriage.  I saw women clamoring to be with in relationships that were far gone, some that never seem to take off, working hard to stay attached as though it was a badge of honor. In my own relationships, my ex-boyfriends expected me to act like the image of the woman in their head according to the past actions of their ex-girlfriends, but that image had nothing to do with me.   I watched my friends get married and have kids, but I just didn't want what they had.  I saw the games that were played, the tears that were cried and then the ring with the question that seemed to make everything all right.  To me that wasn't true love.  So I kept searching.

2.06.2012

Extreme Hoarding



Ever watch one of those hoarding shows on television?  There is usually a person who has been hoarding so many things that their house is full to the brim with stuff.  In many cases, the house is not fit to live in and the tenants must clean up or face losing the house to the authorities.  Many of us watch the show in disbelief and shake our heads at the extreme conditions, even if some of us have the same condition in our own homes but on a smaller scale.  We see what ignited their situation, a husband who passed on, a career on the skids, a drug addiction.  We watch them go though those bins and toss out unnecessary stuff which usually triggers an emotional breakthrough.  By the end of the show they return to their home and the new, clean interiors are revealed.  Well, just like these homes many of us are hoarding thoughts trapped deep in our brains which continue to chatter over and over again.