After Elizabeth Gilbert’s Cleveland appearance this winter as part of the Cuyahoga County Library Writer’s Center Stage series, I had pages of notes demanding full-on essay treatment.
That was November.
In the little notebook I carry in my purse, there are four scrawled pages crammed between cabinet measurements for our kitchen renovation and notes from an early morning school levy campaign meeting. No essay. No grand reflections. A few stolen moments documented from a folding chair.
This meme popped up on social media yesterday, in a comment thread on a post about the ‘controversial’ virginity of one of the women on the new Bachelor. Two things. Yes, this show is still on the air. And yes, the women are called ‘contestants’, though I refuse to name them as such. Because apparently, the dude is actually the winner…especially if he picks the virgin. Right? *shudder* So much wrong here. A woman’s sexuality has *never* belonged to the woman. Does this bother anyone else as much as it bothers me?
Yes. It bothers Caitlin Stasey. A lot.
I’ve been procrastinating on this one. Partly planned—I wanted to give myself a full week of post Whole30 observation—and partly plain ol’ chickenshit.
Full disclosure? Two sentences in, and I just spent 30 minutes dawdling on Facebook. Eyes forward! I’m back.