For being a writer, I'm pretty terrible about keeping up a blog. I scribble notes into the margins of my planner and onto receipts found in the depths of my purse – but cannot seem to translate these spur of the moment thoughts, feelings, hopes, desires, etc into blogging. I swear, I do write – quite a bit actually, but most of the time no one gets to read it. I keep my little notes of frivolous diction tucked away, usually throwing them away, haphazardly, with old grocery lists and gum wrappers. A bit of a waste I suppose.
Cliffnoted version of my life for the past two months:
After 5 years and $60,000 + in student loan debt, I finally graduated from a major university. I entered into the ranks of those who hold a college degree but are employed in a field totally different than their specialty area. I opted to switch into a full-time position at the bank I work at as a consumer banking representative – a.k.a.: totally not using my English and publishing degree in the manner in which I obtained it. I guess the first strike against my future was choosing such an ambiguous degree area like English. "What are you going to do with that? Be a teacher?" – I've been asked many times. I always respond with "No." with a tinge of uncertainty in my voice. I mean, I love teachers, I really do. Half of my in-laws (teaser for the next section!!) are teachers and they're fabulous at what they do, but I don't think that I could have that kind of job every day.
So, no, I will not be employed as a teacher in my immediate future. I will remain employed at the bank which has paid my bills and provided so many friendships for the past three years, until something fabulous and life-changing opens up for me. My options are open and my passion is bountiful.
Remember that time Joseph and I got married in June 2011? I do – it was awesome. We were married on a hot Sunday, Father's Day actually (it was much cheaper that way). I wore a pretty dress and hot pink shoes and carried a bouquet that my mother made, wrapped in lace with trinkets from my grandmother and great grandmother adorning the lace covered stems. I had the most important people in my life all under one roof, celebrating with us. My best friend stood right behind me, holding my bouquet and straightening my train. Later, she sang along to the tinkering guitar melodies of a wonderful musician and even better friend, as we served communion to our friends and family. The most wonderful fuzzy man I have ever met stood in front of me, reading me his vows from a post-it note – quoting "Star Wars" of all things.
We drank PBR and cheap wine, ate homemade pulled pork and baked beans, sang along to indie renditions of Miley Cyrus' "See You Again" and Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline". Our entire wedding party and friends intermingled in a dramatic fashion while singing along to Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody." Joseph danced with his mother – her Bugger Bear had grown up. I danced with my father – it was better than any 'Daddy Daughter Dance Night" that we could've gone to in elementary school. We remembered those we had lost and celebrated with those we still had. We left as husband and wife.
People ask me what married life is like and I don't quite know how to answer that. It's as if nothing has changed but at the same time, everything has changed. Joseph and I found out two years ago what it was like to live with the person you love, so the post-wedding cohabiting wasn't a fear for us. My initials didn't even change, ANW to ANW. I did, however, lose 5 letters from the entirety of my name – less work for me! But even with all these simple non-changes, everything felt differently. Suddenly, if we fought, it felt like there was more to fight for, more to save. The stakes were higher. We were legally and spiritually bound to one another. It was such a big moment when I realized that I was no longer a single lady in the eyes of the law. I had a husband now.
What does a feminist do when she gets married?
If she's anything like me she would cook whatever she wanted, try new hair colors and styles, work 40 hours a week, try new beers and wines, love her herself regardless of any honeymoon weight gained, love her husband something fierce, and – join the local roller derby team.
More on that later.