"Warm Beer, Cold Women"

Sometimes your inner lesbian needs sustenance so your underdeveloped animus can stop trying to externalize itself in outward manifestations. It's such a relief to own your animus, and not project your inner masculine onto other people. Why watch lucha libre videos, when I can get my inner wrestler on the floor at some boxing class? I recently realized that my husband's lack of organizational skill in some areas may reflect my own. For a while it seemed easier to let paperwork get messy, than attempt to put everything away only to be yelled at when things are filed. There are some people who prefer piles, I like to put piles into places. Eventually, I just became a piler, because being blamed for missing piles can feel like WWIII, having grown up with a rage-o-holic father. I guess my perfectionist self needed a mighty long vacation. Watch out world, now "shit's gonna get done".

Anyway, my point is that individuals must remain true to their needs and not change healthful, highly functioning behaviors, just to get along. It's much easier to change yourself than someone else, if you want to. Don't wait for your partner to wash the car, change the light bulb, wash the dishes, do the taxes, whatever it is, just do it yourself.

A note on a concept I am deeming, the inner lesbian. For women, I see the inner lesbian, as the self-loving part that can appreciate the beauty in another woman, instead of feeling competitive or jealous of other women. If you've ever had a girl crush or a BFF you call a wifey, you've got an inner lesbian. One needn't be a feminist to have an inner lesbian, one needn't even be born female to have an inner lesbian, one needn't even be particularly deep to have an inner, anything. But having grown up in a figurative hippie commune of proud and tumultuous Mary Magdalenes exploring the spectrum, my Swiss Alpine retreat is jumping into feminist dogma and lounging on my makeshift wooden raft grafted together by meself from shipwrecked boats, adrift in a sea of selkies, strapped with binoculars and gifted with a love of raw seacatch. For me my sexuality and my feminism are connected. Some of my feminist manifestos have went the way of floppy discs, privacy and constitutional rights. Some of my early feminist tenants have proven impractical and even undesirable. I long ago traded in spiky hair, a Bitch Magazine subscription, and puncture-yo-face jewelry in for high heels, full moon love baths and checkbooks with little cherubs dancing in the clouds.

My aura has Mary Wollstonecraft's post-humus biker alter ego tattooed over my right bicep, with "Warm Beer, Cold Women" calligraphied underneath it. Thank you to the woman with the Wollstonecraft quote on her back. The Zeitgeist in SF, not just for Warm Beers anymore...there are lots of multitasking clear liquors and hardworking Valencia Street digestifs to keep your heart warm and juicy. http://www.zeitgeistsf.com/

On another note, it is very difficult to assuage the unsympathetic, and therefore, I'll believe no war with Syria when I see no war with Syria and only time will tell. There are many faces of war, and many methods by which battles are won and lost in this modern age. Waltzing into another country to check their weapons is provocation, on whose authority is it sanctioned? 'Lift your ladies' skirts please, we wanna make sure we like what we see'. The presence of war can be as destructive as a typhoon, as accidental as a tsunami, and as calculated as a game of poker. It's easy to predict the reactions of an unwilling majority these days, and plan accordingly.