Stereotypically Organized

Confession time: I love organization. I love de-cluttered clutter (aka organized clutter). I love when my house is neat and tidy. I enjoy making large meals to share with guests in my home. I enjoy having overnight guests so I can set up a little space for them to help make their stay comfortable. The saying, “Everything in its place and a place for everything” along with “Work now, play later” fits me perfectly.

I am sure this comes as no surprise to anyone – however, in confessing this, what I am admitting to, is. . . that . . . well . . . hold on to your hats . . . you may want to be sitting down for this . . . I am a stereotypical female in this regard. I mean how many average males do you know who almost pee a little with excitement in a store all about organizing? Or who grab at their new Real Simple mag when it comes in the mail only to flip to the new organizing tips or to the “Double Duty Household Items” section where you can discover how to use everyday household items for a different purpose (for instance, have you ever thought of using a metal hanger to hang spools of ribbons on? Now my gift wrapping storage area is a lot neater thanks to this tip – who knew?)? And oh, did I mention, I am a HUGE fan of Canadian Living mag? The recipes are tried and true and oh so YUMMY! And generally, very easy and often quick.

So there you have it – I have some stereotypical female tendencies. So, what’s the big deal you may ask? Like, who cares? I’ll tell you who cares - I do. I dislike succumbing to stereotypes because they often perpetuate a system of oppression. Type casting people based on gender, race, parental status, height, hair colour, age, what have you, is wrong. So, when a stereotype proves to be true, it’s hard for me to take.

Now, I realize stereotypes exist for a reason – they weren’t just created out of thin air. However, the thing about stereotypes is that not all of a particular group adheres to all the stereotypes of that group. For instance, there is a stereotype that women are bad drivers. Well, I gotta say, I’m a great driver. Maybe too aggressive at times, or too fast, but I am not a bad driver. And then the opposite of that stereotype – what is being said without being said - is that all men are good drivers. Well, I gotta say, that I disagree with that. In fact, I know a couple male drivers that I would prefer to never have my little person drive with.

There is so much that could be said here about stereotypes and type casting and pegging people based on something external or what have you, but I don’t have time to delve into it all. What I want to end with though is that I am a big believer in the individual. People are who they are. Some are completely stereotypical while others can never be pigeonholed. Though I wish I were the latter, only because I want to buck the system (or as one person noted, I always want to “rock the boat”), I am who I am . . . This is the way God made . . . and society formed me. Besides, as philosopher, Simone de Beauvoir noted, “One is not born a woman, one becomes one”.

What a little coffe and cake can do

I’m sitting in my dinning room with some coffee and chocolate cake listening to Martin Sexton play his guitar as I wait for my little person to wake from her nap. Here, I’m thinking about people who have come and gone in my life, dreams I had and still hold dear, and just about how things are turning out. Not that things will ever turn out – that would mean there was an end, a resolution. I don’t think there’s ever going to be an end, just another chapter. And eventually a chapter without me.

I wonder a lot lately about people from my past. Where are they now? What are they like? What are my old best friends doing these days? Are they well? Do they wonder about me? How are we different? How are we still the same? Would we be friends today?

Being a person who has moved a great deal I have a lot of people to think about . . . a lot of people to regret not keeping in touch with. But I have a lot of great memories. So many good times. I enjoy sitting and thinking about how I laughed so hard my ribs ached, how I loved so deeply for the first time, how I was taken care of by good girlfriends when a mess, many late nights and some early mornings. I feel good about the past. I feel so fortunate. So whole.

I hope that Ayvlyn will have such wonderful memories. Though I laugh when I say this, because I was a bit of a rebellious teenager (my mom would often say, “I hope you have children just like you” and she didn’t mean that positively - haha). Those nights I would sneak out or sneak people in, ‘sleeping over at a girlfriends house’ only to be some where else, kissing games, alcohol . . . but still when I think about it all, I can’t help but smile. I may have broken some of the rules, I may have done some ridiculous things, but I turned out fine. And better then that, I have very few regrets and no feelings of missing out on something. And that’s saying a lot, because there are people my age (almost 30 – eek!) who are still partying in excess, ending one relationship for another, searching for something they think they’re missing. . . . But not me, all that I want I have and more.

Sure things weren’t always rosy and they sure aren’t now – but overall my life is solid and good. And that’s good enough for me. I have lived a good life and I hope to continue to do so. And I hope that Ayvlyn will always be able to sense my contentment and that she will experience the same - what ever that will look like.

Yeah, I’m happily content . . . hope you are too.