Of Books for Women

The other night a friend was scanning the bookcase in my shared office.

“Are these books yours?” she asked.
“No, those are my mom’s. She’s really into Zizek, KRS-One, and cyborgs.”

Of course, I was kidding—my mom hates cyborgs. But is it that farfetched to believe that she’d be into Lacanian psychoanalysis and boom bap philosophy? Not when she (giver of birth) is currently reading the autobiography of an Olympic snowboarder, and I (finisher of marathon) am reading a book on the female brain.

Some might think this opposite book thing is cool—and it is cool to hear your mom’s take on 50 Cent’s new self-help title—but when company is over and spots a copy of Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough or The Go-Girl Guide: Surviving your 20s with Savvy, Soul, and Style, and they find out it’s mine, it can get weird.

“Wait, you’re reading that?”
“Actually, I just finished it.”
“You read the whole thing?”
“Yeah, I read the whole thing.”
“Why?”

At this point, I usually walk into trouble. I try to explain that I’m curious about how I, post-postmodern man, am being represented in this literature, something that is not targeted toward me, but which, in a way, is very much about me. Though it never comes out that way.

“I’m really into things that are not for me.”
“Like?”
“Like things that are for women.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, especially younger women and girls.”
“You’re into younger girls?”
“No…you…damn it...that came out wrong.”

Awkward justifications aside, I find these books very insightful. For example, in Marry Him, Lori Gottlieb writes that marriage is not about metaphysics. How true! Marriage should not be about some dairy guy who works out at the playground.

Throughout my savvy, soulful studies, I’ve also discovered three universal truths.

1. Males and females have different parts.
2. Only females can give birth.
3. Females tend to write more about the differences between males and females than males do.

Someday, if Mr. Barely Enough ever decides to show up, I plan to turn these truths into a book of my very own. And if the genre has anything to say about it, you can bet the cover will be painted with pinks and reds and that the title will not match the content inside. After all, according to Gottlieb and friends, I exhibit many of the characteristics of a stylish, independent woman—and stylish, independent women write books. Yay! And rawr.

Holiday Thoughts

They say that the holidays are a time for food, family, and hating the holidays. I don’t know who 'they' are, but I suspect 'they' are some of the same people who celebrate Christmas Eve with push-up contests.

When I was a sophomore in college, I wrote an essay about how Coca-Cola killed Jesus.

I’m not big on gifts, but when I do give something, you can be sure that it’ll have quantifiable educational value. That’s why this year I got my 2-year-old nephew a toy Hummer that plays “U Can’t Touch This.”

I wonder if Hammer celebrates Can’t-touch-mas.

For those of you studying for the Miller Analogies Test, know that peas are to Shawn Kemp as corn is to Gary Payton.

My mom triggered a 2-hour discussion about binary oppositions when she asked me who my favorite superhero was. Mom, you should know better.

A lot of these holidays happen every year. I think we would be better off celebrating these days once every four years. Madonna would probably disagree, but she probably doesn’t even like the Olympics.

Freaky Friday: My Mom Likes OutKast

The other day I had the car radio dial set to NPR. I was listening to the story of the first black quarterback in the NFL. My mom turned to me and asked, “What is this?”

It was obvious she didn’t care for my listening selection. “It’s public radio, Ma.” I said this in my most grown-up-do-your-homework-turn-that-TV-down-and-eat-your-vegetables voice.

Since I wasn't too invested in the program, I started to scan other stations. After all, it was her birthday. “Oh, I like this song!” my mom said. And for the next three minutes, she bopped her head and slapped her thigh to OutKast’s ‘Hey Ya!'

Have the roles of mother and son been reversed? Is my mom cooler than me?

I like public radio. She likes Andre 3000. I have a beat-up Samsung flip phone. She has a sleek touch screen device. She goes out with “the girls.” I go out “to work.” I think it’s only a matter of time before I stumble across her reality TV gossip blog. Just this morning she sent out a mass text of her predictions for this season's ABDC. Looks like I’ll be joining the “what your kid is really up to” parenting group on Facebook sooner than I thought.

That's okay. Next year, for her present, I'll be making a donation to NPR in her name.