a bit of a katie girl.

I work out regularly but eat chocolate everyday
I don’t like chivalry but I will let a guy buy me drinks
I like Alanis Morisette and Dolly Parton
I am very passionate but rarely show emotion
I am not scared of large dogs, horses or llamas but I am terrified of rats, mice and long legged bugs
I think professional athletes are grossly overpaid but I watch the Superbowl every year
I am easily bored by romantic comedies but I enjoy cheesy love songs
I have many strong opinions but I probably won’t share them unless you ask
I am often annoyed by the way the media portrays women but I tune into Desperate Housewives every Sunday
I am very sarcastic but will lie to keep from intentionally offending someone
I think Facebook’s News Feed is a ridiculous invasion of privacy but I frequently read it
I love to be with friends but I will only exercise alone
I love to travel but I have trouble reading maps
I am a pro-choice carnivore but I have trouble eating an egg when I think of a baby chick
I take pride in my independence but I am constantly seeking the approval of others
I don’t like to fight but I love to win
I have many layers and wear many masks
I am complex, unpredictable and sometimes hypocritical
I am a Katie Girl

special thanks to the author for this week’s contribution…a true study in paradox! interestingly enough, the word paradox comes from the greek word paradoxon which means “contrary to expectation or opinion” (para=contrary, doxa=opinion). kudos to all the katie girls out there embracing paradox in their own lives by being willing to defy the expectations and opinions of others in favor of being a better version of themselves. as walt whitman once said: “do i contradict myself? then i contradict myself. i am large. i contain multitudes”…maybe he was a katie girl too? (wink).

xoxo.
ellie

p.s. for more information on the katie girl project or to submit an entry, click here!

ain’t vindication grand? thanks to a recent new york times article, i have discovered that i am not alone in my stringent literary requirements for potential beaus. i have spent years being criticized by family and heckled by friends because i adhere to one basic moral code. you are what you read. tell me the last book you’ve read and i’ll tell you who you are. let me talk to you about books and i’ll love you for life. my requirements for a relationship are simple but exacting. leave me alone when i am reading and we will have a foundation for success. because as thomas jefferson famously said, “i cannot live without books”.

this is how i see the world. i am a bibliophile. so it is only natural that when potential suitors come along “what is the last thing you have read” is one of the first five questions i ask. (the other four, in no particular order, are: do you like dogs? do you like red wine? how do you feel about the state of minnesota? and can you name three classical composers?) but the books. the books are a deal breaker.

honestly, the reason why i love facebook so much is that i can heckle people’s literary choices. if judging is a sport then facebook is bat, glove and ball. if you have listed under your “favorite” books anything by dan brown or v.c. andrews, you will be judged. you will also be judged if you have something listed i know you have never read. proust, for example. or whitman. or adrienne rich. there are girls i went to high school with who i know for a fact have never picked up dream of a common language or leaves of grass…but there they are on their facebook profile. a testament to falsified intelligence and literary posturing. perhaps you read a quote you liked once…something about your whole body being a poem? while isn’t that nice. you haven’t read the whole poem. don’t put it down. quotes from robert frost on a facebook profile are also a key indicator of a feeble mind. you took the road last traveled. whoop dee doo. isn’t that original? (also an incorrect interpretation of the poem, i might add). i also hate girls who say that romeo and juliet is their favorite book. first of all, it is a play not a book. second of all, you don’t like the book. you like the story. you like it because you cast yourself as juliet and whatever moronic excuse for a pre-pubescent you are currently dating as romeo. get over it.

some of you may be offended by this point in the entry. i could apologize, but i won’t. its my blog. and when it comes to intelligence, books are nonnegotiable. i don’t care how smart or special your parents told you you were. if you’re not reading quality literature, you are not fully comprehending the world.

yes, i have opinions. as i told one of my favorite college professors, i have opinions on opinions. but i do listen. for the most part. the people i am most impressed by are the ones who argue for a beloved author intelligently. who are able to say what makes a book great. who can convince me to take another look. it happened with hemingway. it happened with steinbeck. it happened with emily dickinson. and i’m eternally grateful. it will not, however, ever happen with the davinci code.

i have gotten in major trouble for these opinions before. on one memorable occasion i was talking to my best friend’s new girlfriend and i asked her what her favorite book was. because i assumed my friend would date someone intelligent, thoughtful and well-read…i chuckled as i asked, “and don’t tell me its the davinci code!” it was. whoops. i would like to point out, however, that the relationship didn’t last. coincidence? i think not.

as someone once said and my mom is famous for quoting “we read so we know we are not alone“. thank-you, new york times, for assuring me that at least some of my neuroses are not unique.

xoxo.
ellie

addendum (slash shout out to my mother): when i sent my mom this article via e-mail (subject line: I TOLD YOU SO), she responded:

A few thoughts:

You should not be snooping at what people are reading, you should ask.

I have not heard of Pushkin (but now I have to look it up)!

For most of us, relationships are about helping each other grow, which leaves open the idea that someone can open up a whole new world of literature for someone they care about.

The fact that you found this article, Ellen, speaks to your need to get out more and read less!

Given how we love dogs, our opinion would rise if we found a friend with a book that implied that you can learn life lessons from dogs on their end table.

Stop with The Da Vinci Code!

Love,
Mom

yup, she’s a katie girl too. so in case you think i haven’t been toppled off my literary high horse a time or two, be assured that my sense of duty and filial obligation keep me perpetually grounded.

I’m a Katie Girl because of society. Society has created a mold for me that I am simultaneously trying to fight and fit into. Societal pressures are so much a part of me that I can no longer figure out the difference between what I want and what society wants me to want. This makes me complicated.

Who I am in the context of my society allows people to make assumptions about me. For example:

I am female, and therefore must love chocolate and hope to one day have a family.
I am from middle-class white suburbia and must therefore be naïve about issues like racism and poverty.
I am 23 and therefore must enjoy alcohol and going out on the weekends.
I am blond and therefore must be not so smart
I am from Minnesota and therefore must like hot dish and cold weather.
I am from the U.S. and therefore must know how to read and write.
I am a feminist and therefore have to be pro-choice.
I am a math minor and therefore must a nerd.

These are only a few examples, and while some of these stereotypes are true, some are false. Some I embrace, some I fight tooth and nail. Why do I do this? Why am I so afraid to either meet or not meet these expectations? Why do I care about what society says I should or shouldn’t be? I act different around my parents than I do around my friends. My co-workers see me in a different way than my clients do. I am always trying to figure out what people’s expectations are of me first and then deciding whether or not I want to try and meet them. I continually try to decide what I feel and what society has told me to feel. Despite years of searching, I still haven’t figured out who I am and who I want to be. That makes me complicated. That makes me a Katie Girl.

i’d like to offer my formal apology to this week’s katie girl for taking so long to put her entry up on the blog. and for always eating her chocolate chips. thanks for such a thoughtful response. for more information on the katie girl project or to submit an entry, click here.

In first grade I shoved a rock up my nose. It got stuck. In fourth grade every girl in Grandview, Missouri, got the bright idea to shave only the back of their heads. It was some kind of rebellious fashion statement, and one I rarely admit to doing. In sixth grade I started my period and insisted that it wasn’t normal. I was so persistent that my mother had to take me to the doctor. I refused to believe that my mother, a nurse, knew what she was talking about. In seventh grade I received my first kiss. Ken Willert was the one to give it to me. My friends and I were at Mitch Karsten’s birthday party, girls on one side of the room and boys on the other. The kiss was strategically planned, not romantic or spontaneous in any way, and I refused to kiss him until I found my Dr. Pepper Chap Stick. I had to make sure my lips were soft after all. Two years ago I dated a guy named Ben. I was bored, and he was cute, until he turned in to a stalker. I had mentioned that I liked Batman, and one day I came home to find him in my apartment in nothing but a child sized Batman cape. I sent him home. Three weeks ago,I accidentally found out that the father of my son is having a baby. This was quite a shock to me because he had been trying to get back together with me for months. He would tell me how sorry he was for things that happened in the past, tell me he loves me, and wants nothing more than to have his family back. I knew that even though there were still feelings on both people’s parts, I couldn’t ever go back to that relationship. I didn’t want to be with the father of my child, but he should damn well be miserable and pine over me. I figured that he deserved it after everything that he had done. I spent the rest of the night throwing myself a pity party and avoiding his text messages and calls. Unfortunately when I was ready to talk the only thing that could come out of my mouth, after some alcoholic beverages, was, “I hope your baby has five legs.”

I thought about how immature that phrase was for about a week, and then I realized something. It is ok to do things I regret. I’m not saying I should go out and purposely do things that are stupid, but all of my experiences have taught me something. For example, I now know that rocks do not belong in body cavities, that being a woman is a normal biological thing, and I have learned that clippers should only be used on members of the male species. Spontaneous kisses that hold feeling and meaning are the best, and I no longer worry about having Chap Stick. I figure I am a little old for Dr. Pepper flavor and so have now matured to Tropical Punch Kool-Aid. Dating someone because I am bored never goes anywhere and is a waste of time. Maturing enough to consider someone else’s feelings is something that I am glad to have learned. I can now just tell someone that it isn’t working out rather than hoping that he gets my subtle cues and disappears. Even though I still do not like the idea of my son’s father having another child, a baby with five legs just wouldn’t be a good thing.

Learning to let things go is not an easy task, and I have not mastered it by any means. I am positive that I will have more moments that I am not proud of, and I welcome them. I figure it is how I handle myself during and after them that shapes who I am. I can only hope that as I age and mature that I live a life without regret and have many stories to tell.

i’d like to thank this week’s contributer for such an incredible essay! for more information on the katie girl project or how to submit a piece, click here.

happy friday!

xoxo.
ellie