A Respectable Young Lady

I got the “lady” thing down. When I was a girl, I learned all sorts of “lady” skills that would prepare me to be a decent woman and successful housewife. I make applesauce. I spin yarn. I can knit and crochet. I paint, sing, and play the harp. I can make quilts and clothes, and serve afternoon tea.

The problem is, activities such as those are no longer as popular as they used to be. Spin yarn? Many people don’t even understand what a drop spindle is, or they have never seen a harp up close.

Felicity Merriman and Elsie Dinsmore were my childhood friends, but I have learned that girls like them remain alive only on the words of a page. While girls my age learned about makeup and name brand clothing, I was out riding horses. While so-and-so was dating her first boyfriend, I was wondering if it was morally okay to wax my eyebrows (would it be vain?). By the time I reached young adulthood, I thought I was well on my way to becoming an accomplished gentlewoman (I use the term loosely). You can imagine my surprise, then, when I discovered that a proper gentlewoman is not esteemed in the same way she would have been a century ago.

These days it appears that society values a woman who is career driven more than housewife driven. Many women today are being awarded for accomplishments that, a century or two ago, only men would have attempted. Maybe that’s not a bad thing. Maybe it means we’ve allowed women to go above and beyond the original expectations of their gender. I think, however, that there is something to be said about a woman who can manage her home well, career or no career. There is a certain beauty that is lost when the art of housekeeping is thrown to the wayside in pursuit of what used to be left to the men.

That’s not to say that pursuing a career is a bad thing. I myself am studying to get a bachelor’s degree, after which I would like to manage a flock of goats (maybe), grow an herb garden, and possibly build my own house. Yes, with my own hands.

Do you remember the term “calling” before it was used in reference to the telephone? In the Victorian era, ladies would pay visits to, or call on, each other. In higher society, women would keep track of who called on them and to whom they owed calls. Paying a call could be compared to paying bills, they were so important. Today? “We should hang out sometime.”

Sometimes I wonder what the hell men are looking for if not a housewife. I may be late in saying this (by about 100 years), but it seems that the woman is having to find a new identity, since it is no longer defined by the skills she acquires for running a home. In a way, this is freeing, because it gives her more independence to choose her own path. In another way, however, it leaves people like me a bit confused about what to do when I’ve spent a significant chunk of my life training to be useful to a man.

Please do not take this as a self-pity rant (although that’s exactly what it is, so forgive me). This is not to say that I cannot survive without a man taking care of me, because I have complete confidence that I can. I think more importantly, I am trying to find my place in 2014 when I feel like I should have been born in 1880.

Why a Ring?

Chances are if you’re from generation Y – or even generation X – you’ve probably seen it. The engagement announcements, the pictures of the fancy ring. Don’t get me wrong, I love admiring people’s rings. I think rings are beautiful. I just wonder what the hype about them is.

Yes, a quick Google search will reveal that a ring symbolizes eternal love, the commitment to marriage. Although according to Wikipedia, “Historically, the wedding ring was connected to the exchange of valuables at the moment of the wedding rather than a symbol of eternal love and devotion. It is a relic of the times when marriage was a contract between families, not individual lovers.”

My conflict about the wedding ring isn’t a sense of belonging or devotion to somebody; my conflict is about the practicality of wearing a ring in general. I love admiring jewelry on other people, but for me, any sort of ring is uncomfortable. And what about when people go to the bathroom and wash their hands after? Isn’t that putting a lot of wear and tear on the ring? Suppose you’re making meatloaf and mixing the raw meat with your bare hands? To wear a ring in a situation like that just sounds really gross to me. What about gardening if you don’t wear gloves? Suppose you’re a painter and you get paint on the ring? I wouldn’t wear a $5,000 dress to paint a house, so why would I wear a $5,000 piece of jewelry only to have to pay more money to get it cleaned after?

(I don’t really know what the going rate for rings is…I’m just throwing around numbers)

Yes, I know that wearing a ring can show that you’re not single, that you’re devoted to someone else. And yes, that can be a very good thing. But technically, shouldn’t the way you act in your everyday life show that you’re devoted to someone? I’m not trying to put anyone down here, I’m genuinely trying to figure this out.

Of my many concerns about getting married someday, one is having to wear a piece of jewelry that someone spent a ridiculous amount of money on that I don’t even like. God have mercy on the man who gets stuck with me.

Things to Learn: Rock Climbing

A couple years ago I remember having a bad day, but thinking, “Sometimes you have to hit rock bottom before you can get back up.” It was something my mom used to say, and for whatever reason that saying came to mind on that particular day.

I pictured what a literal rock bottom might look like. A canyon. Darkness. Light above. A cold, hard ground. That’s when I decided that I wanted to write a story about a canyon and having to hit rock bottom. I called my story the Canyon of Life, and I would post a rough draft of each chapter on a blog. I wrote about how life was a canyon, and how we strive to climb to the top. It was a great idea until I realized that I don’t know a thing about rock climbing.

I went to a rock wall once in high school and I loved it. I wanted to climb more, but it didn’t work out.

That is, not until I got to college.

My school has a rock wall with great people there to help me learn. A few weeks ago I joined the rock climbing club called B-ROC. Since then I’ve only been to the wall once, but I’m so excited to go back. At first I was scared to join the club because I have next to no experience climbing, and I’m not very strong. However, I realized that there are people of all experience levels in the club, and that it’s okay to be a beginner.

I don’t know if I’ll get around to finishing that rock climbing story or not. I’m just glad that I discovered something new that I enjoy.