thinking about ophelia
As I type this entry, I'm listening to Bjork's "Telegram." It's remixes of the songs on "Post." I like "Post" better, but some of the remixes are pretty good. I checked out both of these CDs from the public library. I consider my CD collection to be a largely rotating one, thanks to the library. I've only had a CD player for a year-and-a-half, so most of my music collection is tapes. If you think tapes are outdated, I can remember listening to the Go Go's on 8 track when I was growing up.
Today was a better day, although it didn't seem like it was going to start out that way. I called my financial aid "counselor" ("counselor?" please--who thinks up job descriptions anyways?) to find out about my aid. Everytime I call, something new is wrong. Red-tape bureaucracy is one thing; flat-out incompetence is another. Now it seems that not only did they mess up my summer aid (which I never got, and the bill's still unpaid) but now there's a problem with my fall aid. Times like those are times when I still wished I smoked so that I could have a cigarette to unwind.
I quit in December 1996. I've cheated a few cigarettes since then, but they just don't taste good, smell good, etc. Overall I think that's good, or otherwise it would be much easier to start again when I get really stressed or upset. More on how and why I quit later, probably.
I've been reading Reviving Ophelia: Saving the Selves of Adolescent Girls. Whether you're a parent or not, a teenager or adult, this book is a must-read for all women. Reading it makes me think back on the women's studies course I took as an undergraduate. Becoming aware of women's issues certainly makes us stronger, but can also make us more angry and sad at how women in our society are treated (not that that's a reason to not be aware of women's issues).
The author Mary Pipher argues that many preadolescent girls lose their assertiveness, optimism, and wide range of interests (some of which may be considered "tomboyish") as they come into adolescence. I think that was true for me. I always stood up for myself when I was young. When I was around 10, my neighbor threw rocks at me, hitting my glasses. I told him if he didn't stop I was going to punch him. He did it again, and I gave him a bloody lip -- not that I'm advocating violence here. :) I remember other incidents of standing up for myself, but that one is the most memorable. But as I was a teenager in high school and college, I lost that assertiveness and felt depressed most of the time.
Pipher argues that adolescence starts earlier and lasts longer than it used to, and I agree. Looking back on my college years, I can see evidence of that, although I wouldn't have wanted to admit that at the time: when you're in college, you don't want to think of yourself as a teenager, or at least I didn't. I thought I was so mature in college, and when I look back on some of the things I did, mature is the last word I'd think of to describe them.
I don't want to sound too harsh on myself though or other teens or 20ish women. In high school, I underwent a traumatic experience which I buried as much as I could. In college, this caused me a lot of pain as I came to terms with my experiences. Unfortnately, a lot of women have had to deal with similar painful experiences too.
Now as a mid-twentysomething, I feel like I've regained my assertiveness. Now I'll stand up for myself instead of letting people use me or walk all over me. I've tried to view the painful times that I've had as helping me become stronger. But, as Louie Anderson said of his childhood (and as I think of my teenage and early 20s), "I don't want to be a better person for it. I don't want to be stronger for it. I'd rather have had a good childhood!"*
*(Roughly what he said during an episode of "Politically Incorrect.")
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