Author Archives: Christene

Real Woman

Feminism runs rampant in San Francisco. Yet it seems (to me), that somewhere along the way women misconstrued what it means to be a feminist.

By their standards I push the feminist movement back by a hundred years. Lipstick and high heels are dictated by the patriarchy. Really? Did everyone forget Madonna, the poster child for postmodern feminism? What about Cher and Cindi Lauper?

They were the kind of feminists that didn’t believe in some overarching, looming male presence that was supposedly suppressing them. They were glam, and it was empowering.

“Woman are strong because they can give birth.” That is all fine and well, but not every woman chooses that path. And the pain of birth is really quite short lived. Excruciating, yes. But not necessarily memorable.

So many women agree that we shouldn’t work so hard to look good for men. I think looking good for men is the byproduct of building strength for ourselves. Giving birth is painful for one day. I dare any man to walk in my high heeled shoes every single day. After having gone to the gym to run for five miles.

Then before he leaves the house he should put on all his make up, do his hair, fit into those tight constricting clothes, and accessorize all his jewelry to match his outfit. Glam is dedication and perseverance. Birkenstocks and overalls are just a cheap mask for the fact you have given up. Didn’t Simone de Beauvoir state “one is not born, but rather becomes, a woman?”

And that is the point. You become a woman by embracing all that is feminine. It might have, at one point, been some sort of ploy by the patriarchy. I personally don’t believe this, but whatever. Women can wear pants, and play with gadgets and still be respectable members of society. Men can’t trifle with feminine products and expect the same outcome. It is not beneath them, it is outside them. Playing with make-up, and being glam is something mainstream men have no access to. It is decidedly female, and the stamp of true feminism. Dolling up is not stepping into a preset box, but rather stepping outside the box into inaccessible territory.

I take careful care of my appearance. Yes, I attract men. You think I am catering to the patriarchy? I think you don’t have what it takes to be a real woman. You want to spout out that gender is performance, then I want to put on the show of a lifetime.

A Lot of Pictures

I am sunburned. Walking around for three days straight has left me rather red, and my face matches my hair.

I started the day at the corner of Haight and Ashbury. It was interesting going into all the little shops, and overlooking the city. However, after two hours I headed back in the direction of Telegraph Ave.

Of course I decided to walk the 4.5 miles there, and got lost on several occasions, making the trip more like seven miles.

Yet, getting lost in San Francisco is more like a treat. The buildings are gorgeous.
I got to the top of Telegraph Avenue, climbing all of the steps, and this is the view:
I have never been a full four days without the kids before. It is weird not having them with me for this long. I miss them. But I needed this trip. I stopped at the local toy store and bought them a few keepsakes. They are toys, but a bit more special. I need to teach them to take a little more care with them.
I got this for Ducky:
For Ally, I got a pretty fairy with butterflies. She likes that sort of thing.
Then I went to the Beat Museum. It is a small little venue, mainly dedicated to Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg, among other beat poets and writers. Even though I initially planned on going to three other museums, there just wasn’t enough time. I looked around their shop for a bit and bought a few things.
I didn’t buy this, but I found it amusing:

I got this other magnet for my daughter. I can’t wait until she is old enough to come to San Francisco with me. Only another year or two and I can bring her to the most beautiful city. Ducky, unfortunately is still a few more years away.

In the meantime, I hope to instill the above sentiment into my daughter. I hope she makes history.

I bought these magnets for myself.

I am only ever one of these things at a time.

The gift shop also had this:

A bathtub full of books. Yeah, I may have squeaked.

Here are some pictures of the museum:

I ended my evening by going back to The Hidden Vine for dinner. Tonight they were open. For a Saturday evening they were rather empty. Maybe they are a little too hidden. The girl working the bar informed me it had to do with the holiday weekend. But that’s alright, I got a giant lounge area all to myself (where I actually took the above pictures of the things I bought for the kids).
The food was amazing, and I continued with what has recently become my normal diet as of late, flatbreads with champagne.
The whole place is very ambient. I enjoyed sitting here for a while.

This weekend was just… beautiful.

A Different Kind of Walking

Today I stayed local. I was meeting up with a bunch of friends in the Berkeley – Emeryville area, so I forwent going out into the city again. I am saving that for tomorrow.I started by having a cute little breakfast at the hotel. Even though I had to wait 45 minutes for my waffle, it was totally worth it. This waffles were like crack. I actually contemplated going downstairs again and waiting another 45 minutes for seconds. I have a very strong relationship with food. I like to eat it. It likes to be eaten. Very mutual on both our ends. Except I was running late. Not that I had to be anywhere for a while, but still.

And just in case the giant waffle didn’t provide enough sugar, I stuck a pastry in there too. The dining hall was packed, and there were several families trying to have breakfast so I felt bad taking up an entire table. Also, I didn’t want to feel rushed, so I took it to my room and ate it on my desk/make-up counter, on top of my lap top.
I also used the mirror that was right in front of me to take a half decent self portrait. I first tried without the mirror, but I kept taking pictures of the lamp. This was the best I could do.

I spent most of the day at University Ave. and Fourth Street in Berkeley, taking in the little shops and reminiscing about the last time I was up here, shortly before Tanya’s wedding. Has it really been that long??

Then I walked down University Ave. all the way to UC Berkeley. It was a lovely walk, but I got a little carried away at a few of the little book stores and ended up hoarding with me a hefty amount of books. As I was walking around on campus, lugging my new books, I felt like I was in college again. Real college. It was very nice walking through a university town again.

Afterward (having now walked over eight miles), I needed a break and met up with my friend James at his apartment. I got to meet his boyfriend, Martin, who makes the most exceptional coffee I have ever had. It was so good I told him I would marry him for his coffee. He laughed, and I assured him I was totally serious. I mean, I understand he doesn’t like women, but we could have a completely platonic marriage where we just drink coffee all day. Better yet, we don’t even have to get married, he can just drive to my place every morning and make me coffee. No strings attached. Yes?

The most entertaining of my day, however, was taking a wrong turn onto Fruitvale Ave. I have a knack for not just getting lost, but getting lost in the worst part of town. Several times in LA I have gotten lost in the city, and almost each time I would take that wrong turn onto skid row. Going to LAX? Ended up in Crenshaw. Not even sure how that happened. I just remember the last time I was there I was driving around looking up at the sky trying to find planes that looked like they were landing so I could see which way they airport was. Today was no different. I managed to find the shadiest part of town and get lost in it. The highlight of my little adventure was the half naked man at the gas station where I stopped. As I was making a very quick bee line for the door of the mini mart he came at me with his pants around his ankles. Before anyone gets worried, I was in no danger. It was broad daylight and there were at least two dozen other people at this very busy gas station. In fact I almost wanted to stop and inform him that he would probably run a lot faster if he pulled his pants up.

Later in the evening I met Aaron at his favorite cocktail lounge in Emeryville. He was just flying back from Seattle and was running late. He sent me a series of messages profusely apologizing, but I assured him I am excellent at keeping myself entertained for prolonged periods of time. No rush. However, as luck would have it I took a wrong turn on the freeway and instead of heading towards Emeryville I was about to cross the Bay Bridge into San Francisco again. After navigating all of that and avoiding the toll booth I was the one who ended up late. He told me that is actually a common mistake and he has ended up having to loop across the bridge on several occasions. Made me feel better.

He took this picture of me at Honor Cocktails.

Aaron suggested we go to the Jacuzzi in his building and dip our feet in after dinner. I was wearing these ridiculous boots, covering even more ridiculously tight jeans. If I were to make an effort to take all of these things off, after having come into contact with warm water I would not be inclined to put them back on. And then I would have to drive the rest of the evening bottomless. Aaron told me that that is illegal. I reminded him that I would still be wearing panties, and considering what girls are trying to pass off as shorts these days, I could totally just go around in panties. The moral of the story? I should forgo pants from now on. No? You mean you didn’t arrive at the same conclusion? What? Why not? The guy at the gas station obviously thought that was a good idea.

It was nice seeing friends I haven’t seen in a while. Except for Aaron who I just saw a couple of weeks ago at Tanya’s baby shower, and Martin who I just met. So really I am just referring to James. Either way, it was nice to see all of them. We talked, and laughed, and had delicious coffee, food, and drinks.

Sometimes talking to people who don’t see you on a regular basis really helps put things in perspective. They show you parts of yourself that they see from the outside, not being privy to the everyday. All three of these people have seen me grow immensely over the last decade. When your best friend tells you how wonderful you are, you begin to take it for granted. When people who have no vested interest remind me of what an amazing woman I am, it makes me think that maybe I am as good as they think. Maybe I do have all of those charms they claim.

In conclusion three gay men think I am exquisite, and one man who had the kind of presence of mind to run around Oakland with his pants around his ankles said I was “one fine lady.” I am special.