Ryan-the-Girl Moments

If you look up the name "Ryan" for a female on Urban Dictionary, here is what the entry says:
"A girl that has been through hell with that name. She is probaly a super catch, she has a great sence of humor and wants nothing more then to make everyone happy. If you know a female Ryan, you are lucky, they are rare. Don't judge her by her looks she is by far a better person then you can see from the outside." (Ha, I swear I didn't write that!) Go to http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Ryan%20(girl) if you want to check it out for yourself! Yeah, that made me grin.

Some random lady posted this on Yahoo! Answers: "Okay, to everyone who thinks I'm ever going to name a baby girl Ryan: 1) I'm not pregnant, I was just stating I knew a girl named Ryan, and looking for your opinions. 2) I think it's horrible for a girl." Um, yeah. Opposite of grinning happening here. Hating you, hating your comma splice.

Anyways, so it's safe to say that people have very different opinions regarding "appropriateness" of certain names for certain people.

My name has certainly caused some interesting exchanges in my life. I'm going to call these "Ryan-the-Girl Moments," but I'm sure other females with traditionally male names have dealt with the same sorts of issues (as have, I'm sure, males with traditionally female names). You'd think that, by now (two thousand-freakin'-TEN), people would be catching on to that whole don't-assume-anything thing, but apparently this is not the case. It's a form of stereotyping! Here are but a few of the more memorable Ryan-the-Girl Moments I've experienced:

- I think the first time I was ever really embarrased of my name was in 5th or 6th grade when some jackass at the local skating rink (anyone?) laughed at my name and then asked if my parents "wanted me to be a boy." I believe I just blushed sixteen shades of red and then cried. Greeeeeeeeeeeeeeat comeback 12-year-old me. Anyways, Effff you Mean-Skating-Rink-Bully!

-Also in middle school, I tried to check out a book at the library in school and they thought I was lying about my name. When I gave them my last name, they kept trying to tell me I was the Kathleen in their system. I politely informed them that no, Kathleen is my sister. I am Ryan (Yes I am. I promise I am. ID? I'm 13, I don't have ID yet!). When someone is trying to tell you that you don't know your own name, it's pretty hard to keep your cool or take them even remotely seriously. So, Effff you Narrow-Minded-Librarian-Lady!

-Let's see, one of my favorite, most memorable Ryan-the-Girl Moments was when I turned 18 and applied for my very first voter registration card. I happily filled out all my forms and mailed them in. At last! The Vote! Well, a few days later we got a voicemail on the house phone from a woman who worked in the voter registration office. She was so very helpful. She calmly explained how the Babarsky family's son Ryan had accidentlally checked the "female" box, and could he please call in to give them verification that he was, indeed, a male? They would just go ahead and fix it, but it's policy to have to get at least vocal verification to make any changes (!!!!!!!!). WTF? Maybe she thought this 18-year-old boy was playing a joke? Anyways, Efff you Know-It-All-Voter-Lady!

-Very recently (perhaps a month or two ago), I went to my local pet shop to get some bunny supplies. I am a "preferred pet" customer, so I get a small discount when I check out. This guy I had never seen was working there and I asked him to put my phone number into the system (which pulls up my name and then applies the discount). Well, I give this new guy my phone number and he sees my name pop up and gives me a really funny look. Well, apparently he thought I was lying about who I was, because when I gave him my credit card to pay (which has my picture on it), he was like "oh, so you ARE Ryan." And I was like, "um, you thought I was lying?" And then he said "What, did your parents want you to be a boy?" And, all of a sudden I had a horrible flashback to 5th or 6th grade at the skating rink, and my face turned red and all I could muster was a "no" and a Die-bitch-die kind of look. And, of course, as I'm walking out of the store, seething with anger, I come up with a comeback: "What, did you parents want you to be a stupid, hateful, dumbass?" Why can't my brain work a little faster? Effff you Stupid-Hateful-Dumbass-Petstore-Guy! Of course, a little while after that, at the same pet store, a new girl was working and couldn't stop complimenting me on my name! People are so very different!

There are all sorts of situations in general that are a pain too because of my name:
-Going to the bank: I have to give like 8 forms of ID, my mother's maiden name, and promise them my firstborn if I want to cash a stupid check.
-Getting mail: If I had a nickel for every piece of mail I got addressed to Mr. Ryan Babarsky, I'd be living in a mansion, married to a beach bum, and drinking all the coffee I want by now.
-Going on interviews: Every time I've ever interviewed for a job, I've had the interviewer's shock at having a female walk in to deal with.

Then there are the fun things:
-People usually remember my name because it is different.
-My boyfriend Chris has figured out a fun game: Introduce us as Chris and Ryan but switch our names around to totally confuse the person.
-It's so much fun finding other girls with masculine names! It's like an instant friend! I almost interrupted some 13-year-old girls' putt-putt game the other week because I overheard that one of them was named Ryan! Then I decided that I would probably just freak them out.

I would like to keep coming back to this whole gender/name thing on occasion because it's interesting to me and because it is a huge part of my life. Has anyone else experienced this kind of Ryan-the-Girl Moment? Next post coming soon about my move-out experience yesterday. T'was interesting, for sure.

RYAN'S RECOMMENDATIONS:

Listening: Back to the River by Susan Tedeschi. I got this CD for Christmas and love it. Lately I've been particularly obsessed with the track called "700 Houses." It's about Hurricane Katrina and Louisiana and is an amazing song. Also, Derek Trucks plays this freakin' awesome guitar solo on the track. It literally brings me to tears almost every time I hear it. There's something about it that pierces into my body and gives me shivers. I highly recommend the album.

Reading: Still reading Watership Down because I don't have nearly as much time to read as I would like. But seriously, what could be better? It's BUNNIES, people!

Working Out: One of the things I recently added to my workout collection was a medicine ball. It's really small, full of sand, and 6 lbs. It's great for some ab workout stuff, and easily portable. Y'all should get your selves one if that sounds good to you!

CoffeeCoffeeCoffee!

This morning, I was expected to function like a normal human being…. BEFORE I got to make my coffee (pause for gasps!). Gasp! Let me explain something: I am not a human being in the morning until I get my coffee (doncha love when people call it “MY coffee.” “I need my coffee. Wait…… not until I’ve had my coffee”). I am more like a puddle of still-sleeping, still-dreaming, barely-alive primordial ooze. Don’t even ask me how I drive to work in ooze form. It ain’t pretty. Anyways, so this morning I got to work and all of a sudden I was expected to do about a gazillion important things in a very short time span For. A. Client. Meeting. Translation: This shit matters. Don’t fuck it up. Oh, and hurry, will ya? BEFORE MY FREAKIN’ COFFEE! Well, long story short, I got everything done in a timely manner for the meeting, and all superiors were happy. But, the whole time I was scrambling to get things together, all I could think was “Um, what’s up with all these people who think they’re allowed to talk to me before I get my coffee?” Perhaps you saw this on my facebook status. My sister commented saying “best. status.ever.” Like.

Now, my relationship with coffee is a little more intimate than other people’s (and here I go continuing the I-enter-into-relationships-with-inanimate-objects thing). My first job was working in a gourmet shop, and I immediately gravitated towards working the espresso bar. My second job was in a coffee shop called, and get this, “The Cuppa Giddyup (anyone familiar with Middleburg, VA will understand).” I worked in a couple more coffee shops in college too. I loved it. And so, I got to drink really good coffee and espresso all the time. For free! And so I did. A lot. And I got spoiled because I was always drinking really good, high-quality made-by-me caffeinated beverages. Making someone a good latte or cappuccino is an art. Every barista has his or her own style and skill level, just like every artist or musician has his or hers. Except you can’t drink paintings, so screw that.

Continuing with the metaphor, if coffee is an art, then the coffee at work is something your five-year-old brat with ADD could have crapped out in his sleep. It’s horrendously awful. We have one of those one-cup makers where you put in these little pods of coffee, fill the well with water, push a button, and total shit comes out. I’m not sure exactly why it tastes so bad, but I know good, and this isn’t it. But, I drink this everyday. And I complain when I don’t get it. Why? Because crappy coffee is way better than no coffee. And, this is free coffee. Well, free to me. If I spent $3.00 every single morning to get a latte at my local coffee shop, that would be an extra $90 a month I was spending! That’s around the total sum of my cell phone bill and my electric bill (Is it bad that I’m semi-seriously contemplating what my life would be like if I decided to drink good lattes every morning instead of have electricity and a phone?). We had to read this book for work called Smart Women Finish Rich, and there was this whole chapter called “The Latte Factor.” The anecdote featured a young woman (like, my age) who was complaining about how she couldn’t save any money. So, they eventually figure out that if she stops buying her morning latte and saves the money instead, she can become a filthy rich millionaire and buy a big mansion and marry a handsome beach bum and buy all the coffee she wants and drink lattes all day long and be happy for ever and ever. Ok, that last part or two may be a bit of an exaggeration. But, you get the point. So, I drink my sludge every morning so I’m no longer ooze.

Yum.

Ah, Bella! A cappuccino I enjoyed in San Gimignano, Italy

RYAN'S RECOMMENDATIONS:

Reading: Getting towards the end of Watership Down. Seriously guys, this is a wonderful book. If you haven't read it, put it on your list. Also, Dooce.com is still my favorite blog to read (if you're interested!)

Listening: I've been listening to The Band alot lately. My dad and sister got to see Levon Helm last week (so jealous!), who was The Band's drummer and one of the lead vocalists. Inspired me to pull out my Last Waltz CD. I'm hoping to also get one of Levon Helm's solo CDs soon.

Working Out: I've been bad this week, mainly because I've been spending my extra time packing up my apartment. I'm moving out Friday! So, I recommend reading my friend Caitlin's Fitness Tip of the Day blog. She writes great posts and gives great advice. At least while I'm not working out I can further educate myself in the health and fitness department!

Weekend Getaway: Princeton, NJ

I just got back from a quick weekend getaway with my boyfriend Chris (even though I am moving in less than a week and should probably be dedicating all my time and energy into making all that happen!). We drove up to Princeton (where his parents live), and attended his good friend's birthday party in Pennsylvania (just across the bridge). The reasoning that went into convincing myself to go went thusly: "Well, I've been working really hard and have been really stressed out, so I deserve a quick break. Chris wants me to go, so I should go. I need to blow off a little steam. Everyone needs to get outta dodge every once in awhile." And so, I went. And I'm glad I went. And those are my excuses. And I guess I don't really need excuses. Ok, so maybe I feel a little guilty for spending my weekend having fun instead of slaving away in my apartment.

Anyways, the party in PA was fun (full of a group of characters... sometimes NJ feels like another planet!), but mostly I enjoyed getting to spend time with Chris. He showed me around Princeton and we just had a good time. We got breakfast, checked out the Princeton campus, checked out some cool shops, went to the Record Exchange (Chris spent $40 in a heartbeat!), got drinks in a sports bar, and then headed to PA. It really is the simple things that make me happy. His parents have a piano, so he played it a good bit while we were there. I really love hearing him play, and was even moved to tears at once point (yes, I'm the crazy emotional girl who cries all the time!). Anyways, I guess I'm just bragging a little about my catch!

On the way home we got stuck in this insane, scary storm and I was just so glad to be with Chris during the whole thing. There is no one I trust more or feel safer with. I kept thinking that, had I been by myself, I most likely would have been panicked. There were a few amusing moments on the trip that I could have focused on for this post to get a laugh, but really my overall feeling after the trip is one of love and contentment. I couldn't be happier that this move will result in my getting to live with Chris, and I'm so excited we will be hitting our 5-year mark next month (with the exception of a bump or two along the way!). I'm really very lucky.

RYAN'S RECOMMENDATIONS:

Listening: Today's recs are the two albums Chris bought at the Princeton Record Exchange, which we listened to on our way back to VA. One is Antifogmatic by The Punch Brothers, and the other is Roadsongs by Derek Trucks Band. The Punch Brothers album is awesome, and Chris got the special edition that came with a bonus disk and a DVD. I think it's worth the extra money to get the DVD. What an amazing bit of footage! Check it out. The Derek Trucks album was great too. It's a two disk live album and features some great tunes.

Compulsive Obsession

I get obsessed with things very easily. I can’t help it (well, maybe I can, but even so, I don’t really wanna). It’s almost like I enter into a relationship with the object of my obsession. Some are fleeting and last for only a few weeks, others are “serious relationships” and last years. When I say I get obsessed with “things,” by “things” I mean artists, albums, songs, movies, books, ideas, and other such objects. I’ve had a fling with Bob Dylan, a quickie with his song “Boots of Spanish Leather” and a lovers’ spat with Highway 61 Revisited.

 My very first meaningful long-term relationship was with The Beatles (Yup. All four of ‘em! Muahahahaha!). Let me explain how this “obsession” thing works. In this case, I grew up listening to The Beatles and always had a place in my heart for them. But, early in high school (after making it through my Spice Girls/Destiny’s Child phase- come on, admit it: You had one of those Dark Ages too), I heard the Beatles 1 CD they came out with. All of a sudden, I was hearing these songs differently. To me, nothing else even came close to comparing to them. Enter: obsession. I consumed any and every thing I could find even remotely related to The Beatles. I read books, interviews, and liner notes. I listened to every track they ever recorded hundreds of times, and I memorized every word. I learned which Beatle wrote and sang which songs. I memorized every useless piece of trivia related to the band that I could find. I picked my dad’s brain. I probably watched the movie A Hard Day’s Night 50 times. I even decided to learn to play guitar because I was so into them. I got a Beatles chord book and used it to teach myself to play. I was convinced that I should have been born earlier so I could have seen The Beatles live.

After probably three years of complete and total obsession (during the later part of which I started branching out a very little bit- Bob Dylan, etc) I went to college and started being exposed to all sorts of music. And somehow, in the background of my life, my Beatles relationship faded into a loving friendship full of understanding and private jokes.

Other obsessions I have experienced (most of these are music-related):

-Joni Mitchell has been my other big long-term relationship-type obsession. She is a goddess.

-Patty Griffin’s A Kiss in Time (I am currently experiencing a renaissance of obsession with this album. My re-obsessions occur frequently too!)

-The Last Waltz by The Band (I still maintain that I would give up years of my life to have been at this concert)

-The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley (The only book I’ve read more than twice)

-The Once soundtrack

-Aretha Franklin in general

-Harry Potter series


Man, I’m a big slut.

What are your obsessions?

I'm gonna go ahead and say that RYAN'S RECOMMENDATIONS on this post are the things above that I have been/am obsessed with!

Why I Love Microsoft Paint

Today's post is more visual than usual. I don't have enough time to write something, and I made these pictures in Paint yesterday when our internet wasn't working and I couldn't do anything I needed to do.

This one is called "When it Rains it Pours" or "Fish Out of Water" or "That Shit Sucks"

I call this one "Bee Yourself." Can you spot the rabbit poop?

What, Me Worry?

(Ten points for those of you who know that is Alfred E. Neuman’s tagline from Mad Magazine).

I’ve been a worrier for as long as I can remember. Even when I was a little girl I worried every time my sister got in trouble or basically when anyone wasn’t getting along with anyone else (which, I learned, happens all the damn time). It was never something I thought was unusual. That is, until I got to college and my “worries” got worse and started causing physical problems. I got pretty thin. I swear that I was so uptight that my body metabolized everything faster than it was supposed to. I felt like I would eat and then be hungry an hour later. My stomach was always gurgling. I think maybe I worried so much that my stomach produced more acid than it was supposed to. I also kept thinking I was pregnant. I mean, I must have taken 25 pregnancy tests my junior year. As soon as I felt a little weird I would start worrying and thinking I might be pregnant. I literally worried myself sick (which I had always thought was just an expression). As soon as I felt nauseous (from worry) I would immediately think “morning sickness” and proceed to freak myself out even more. Horrible cycle really.

The reason I’m writing about anxiety on this post is that I had a horrible panic attack yesterday. I started feeling a little bit weird after I had my morning coffee and the feeling got slowly worse. Eventually I was breathing hard, wringing my fingers, shaking, bouncing, and my heart was pounding. I couldn’t make it stop. It’s so amazing what the body can do in response to the mind. I do have a lot of stressors to deal with right now, both in my personal and professional lives, and I guess it got to be too much. I had to take an anxiety medication to calm down at all. I don’t like taking meds when I don’t have to, but it was so bad that I didn’t know what else to do.

Today I spent some time doing yoga to try to get a little of the anxious energy out while also getting to relax. It was somewhat helpful. I think everyone needs to spend a little time doing something that is relaxing on a daily basis.

I also want to put an all-encompassing “thank you” out there to the people in my life who have helped me through these types of situations. Seriously, sometimes you can’t go it alone. Sometimes you need people.

Sorry this isn’t a particularly witty or funny post. I want to write about what is happening in my life, and right now, this is it.


RYAN’S RECOMMENDATIONS:

Listening: For the Roses, by Joni Mitchell- This is a beautiful album that I come back to over and over again. It’s in a sort of in-between phase for her (that is, in-between her folk and jazz influences). There’s a song on it called “Let the Wind Carry Me” that is amazing. I highly recommend it.
Reading: Watership Down is getting better and better. I’ve cried twice now reading it! The characters are fascinating (and they’re cute little bunnies!).
Working out: Weight Loss Yoga, by Bob Harper- This is the yoga DVD I did earlier today. It’s not necessarily easy, but it is not high-impact like some of the other DVDs I workout with. And the cool-down is incredibly relaxing. I feel like jello afterwards.
Researching: Cameras- Help help.

I Can Do Anything You Can Do Better...

This is sort of a Part Deux to my first blog post (see "Uterus!").

Part of being a "tomboy" for me was never accepting defeat when matched up against a male. One of the things I always had an issue with was the idea that a man might think I was weaker/lesser/dumber, etc. So, I overcompensated for my femininity (which I was afraid males would consider a weakness) constantly. I used to kick boys' asses at sports in gym class by playing uneccesarily roughly (and by that I mean elbowing them in the face, slamming into them, and then laughing at them when they called "foul!"). It was my mission to make it so all the men I encountered knew I could hang with them in anything and everything.

In high school, many of my male friends figured out that the best way to "push my buttons" was to say something derogatory about women's sports (or The Beatles, but that's another issue!). They used to say things like "women's soccer is boring" just because they knew I'd flip out and punch them. I was the girl who punched guys in the stomach and then showed off my own sweet abdominal muscles.

I've gotten over a big part of my near-crazy boy-beating fear of weakness. But, there still is a bit of that leftover. I will always believe that a woman can do anything a man can do (Think the Mia Hamm/Michael Jordan commercial), within reason. I will still do my best to never lose to a man (or anyone really). But, I won't feel inadequate if my best efforts don't always result in a win.

Sometimes I think about how great it is to be a woman. A woman can wear feminine or masculine clothes without anyone even blinking. A woman can be an athlete and a "girly" girl. A woman can be sexy, a woman can be smart, a woman can be a nurturer, a woman can be a hard-ass. A woman can have a little bit of everything she wants. I think men have a more narrow realm of "acceptable" than women do right now, though hopefully that will change.

So, as the 6th-grade me would have said, "Girl Power!"

RYAN'S RECOMMENDATIONS:

Ok, this time I need your recommendations! I'm doing some research on some nicer cameras. I'd like to start adding pictures to my articles and blog that actually look good. The pictures my current cheap camera takes totally suck! Here are some of the ones I've been looking at lately. Let me know what you all think!

Things I Would Have Done by Now if There Were More Hours in a Day

-Learn to Make Jewelry: I spent a Visa gift card I got for Christmas on some jewelry-making supplies (including a torch for soldering. Fire=fun; tell your kids). I set up this little “workshop” in my foyer but only got to work on things a few times. I’d like to think that, if there were more hours in a day, I’d be quite the jeweler by now.

-Write a Book: I love to write. I write poetry, examiner.com articles, articles for Americana Rhythm magazine, (and, now, this super-cool bloggy blog! Ok I don’t know why I said “bloggy blog.” But it’s a-gonna stay there). However, all these things are relatively short and can be knocked out within an afternoon or evening. If there were more hours in a day, I’d like to think that I could write a big ole book. I’m talking a giant-Russian-novel type book.

-Learn Italian: I recently became a duel citizen of the US and Italy…. aaaaaaaaaaaaaand, I don’t speak a word of Italian. Well, maybe a word (Grazie!). Shameful, I know. There literally aren’t enough hours in a day for me to take an Italian class or even teach myself! Mama mia! Spaghetti! Vino (Please imagine wildy huge hand gestures here)!

-Become a Better Cook: Wanna know what’s on the TV in the background as I type this? The Food Network (It’s funny, I don’t pay for cable, and, when I got my new TV, all of a sudden I get all these awesome channels!). Why is the Food Network on? Because I love watching talented people cook (ok, fine, and I love to eat). I’m alright at cooking. But, I tend to make the same things over and over. I would love to learn more about what flavors compliment each other. No time!

RYAN’S RECOMMENDATIONS:
Listening: I and Love and You by The Avett Brothers: This is one of the best new albums I’ve listened to in years. It’s deep, emotional, achingly truthful, and just plain sounds good. I highly recommend it.

Reading: I’m still reading Watership Down, but I also regularly read Dooce.com, which is Heather Armstrong’s blog. She makes her living writing it (!). She also describes herself as a “recovered Mormon” and went through a tough time with postpartum depression when she had her first daughter. And she’s just hilarious. Check it out if that sounds interesting to you!

Working Out: Banish Fat, Boost Metabolism by Jillian Michaels (ok, so yeah, I love her). This DVD is hard core. There are 7 circuits making the workout a total of 45 minutes or so. I still can’t do all 45 minutes! She incorporates kickboxing, calisthenics, core strength, and jump training all in one workout. It is super intense, and you’ll feel it the next day.

Kubb!

Last night I went over to the “band house” (three of my band mates live there) for a cookout and then what was supposed to be a late band practice. My friend Jared made a lovely meal for everyone (Thanks, Jared!) and my friend Lyndy brought over this insanely awesome Viking (!) lawn game called “Kubb” (There is some argument on the internet as to how to pronounce “Kubb.” Apparently the sound in Swedish is a sort of mixture of the “oo” sound and the “uh” sound).

http://www.valhallapalooza.com/demos.html

Anyhoo, this is pretty much the best game ever. Like, ever ever. Simply, you throw pieces of wood at other pieces of wood and try to knock them down. The rules are a little more complicated than that, but that’s the gist. Click here to read a description. We played a few rounds, and, when it was getting too dark to see, we moved the tiki torches away from the grill to either end of the playing “field.” Hurling pieces of wood across the lawn by tiki torch light seemed very Viking to me. I was imagining myself as a huge, strong, blonde woman with braids and a horned Viking hat who can hit a high “A” and break a window (Yes, my parents let me watch too many episodes of Looney Tunes as a child. Ten points to anyone thinking of “What’s Opera, Doc?”). The best part of the game was that I was awesome at it. Yes, I’m one of those people who likes games I’m good at, and hates games I suck at. Anyways, the side my boyfriend Chris and I were on always won (even though the teams changed around a bit), and we did not hesitate to point out the correlation. We were the power couple of Kubb.

http://www.ryanmaria.com/after-the-wedding/game-rules/cornhole

We ended up not having band practice and then played another game (of the board persuasion) called Munchkin. Yes, there really is a game called Munchkin. It is awesome. But not as awesome as Kubb.

So I want to start a new part of my blog, which is sort of the “Ryan Recommends” section (yes, the dorky English major girl likes alliteration). Each time I post, I’m going to let you all know what I’m reading, watching, listening to, etc and why or why not I recommend it. I realize I have zero clout to recommend things to people, but I’d like this to be a back-and-forth thing. I’d love to have you recommend things back to me.

So, here we go:

Listening To: Some Perspective by Galen Curry

• Galen is a great friend of mine, and an extremely talented musician. This is his debut solo album, and I can't stop listening to it. Check him out at http://www.galencurry.com/ (Also, my boyfriend Chris plays electric guitar on the album!!! Couldn't be prouder).

Reading: Watership Down by Richard Adams

• I'm only about 50 pages in, but this book is great. I'm obsessed with bunnies because I have a pet rabbit named Coltrane. He was actually originally named after one of the characters in this book by the SPCA!

Working Out: 30 Day Shred by Jillian Michaels

• I literally lost 20 lbs over a 6-month period with this DVD. It's awesome. It's hard work, but fantastic. There are 3 6-minute circuits in each workout, which are high intensity. Love it, swear by it.

Is That a Plantain, or are You Just Happy to See Me? (Or, How I Know I'm Still Not a Grownup)

Last night my boyfriend Chris and I went out to dinner with my dad, stepmom, and grandmother to this really nice place in town called Zocalo. It was fancy (faint-see)! I, however, was not.

My stepmom and I both got the scallop dish, which featured each scallop placed ever-so-delicately on top of a “tostone” which is apparently similar to a fried plantain (Unfortunately. I had assumed that something called a “tostone” would be, like, toasty bread or something. Shows you what I know). They were cut medallion style and were somewhere between the size of a silver dollar and a coaster. My stepmom informed us all that these were much bigger than plantains and proceeded asked the waiter (who was an awkward human being to begin with) how big these “tostone” fruits were.

Now, many items were discussed here, including girth and length, and hand gestures were used to demonstrate each (“Well, if they’re *this* big around, then they must be huge!). Everyone seemed very interested, but I literally had to turn my head away from the waiter and the conversation and stifle a huge guffaw. I had a really hard time understanding how everyone at the table was keeping their cool (Well, Chris was barely keeping his cool, but mainly because I was turned away from everyone else and laughing in his face) while this obviously suggestive conversation was taking place. I mean, come on! Are you seriously telling me that I was the only one who thought of a penis? I mean, water was about to come out my nose I was laughing so hard. And, I had to keep it secret because it was wildly inappropriate and we were in a faint-see joint. Plus, I really didn’t want to embarrass the waiter. I have no problem embarrassing people I’m related to, but this guy certainly didn’t deserve to have a customer laughing in his face about phallic-shaped fruits.

Ha, I’m grinning while I’m writing this thinking about how funny it was. You just can’t make this stuff up.

I guess this means I’m still not a grown up. Thank god.

Uterus!

Hello you lovely, gender-obsessed people! I'm Ryan. And I have a uterus (at least, my gyno tells me I do. I'm not flexible enough to verify that by myself). Cuz I'm a girl. Or woman, or whatever. When a female technically become a "woman" is beyond me. I guess being in your early twenties means being in-between a lot of labels. Anyways, so yes, I am a female with a traditionally male name. And boy (girl!), has it shaped who I am. I've often wondered if I would be a totally different person if my parents had named me "Ashley" or "Britney" or something.

I was that tomboy girl. I wanted legos and tonka trucks and I wanted to play sports. Barbies and pink shit were not ok with me. Ever. My grandmother would still try to give me that stuff for Christmas, because that's what little girls are supposed to get for Christmas. I remember ripping my Barbie's head off once. Bitch deserved it, always grinning smugly at me like she knew that her hypotheical 18-inch waist was going to be forever unattainable to women everywhere. Then, it occured to me that I could get in trouble for breaking a toy someone had so generously given me, so I hid that blonde, nipple-less doll under the couch cushions in our basement.

I may have even ended up having an unhealthy aversion to all things feminine. It wasn't until college that I started getting in touch with that "girly" side of myself (What, Ryan's wearing... a dress???? Since when does she do that?). It took me a long while to see "feminine" as anything other than weak. After some struggling, I've learned that I can be feminine and strong at the same time. In fact, my mother, who is one of my heroes, is the epitome of the strong, feminine woman. So, now if a guy calls me "pretty," I don't have an uncontrollable urge to punch him in the face. And I lift weights and then go drink the pinkest martini drink you've ever seen.

I can't help but wonder what alternate universe girly-named-me would have turned out like (Let's call her "Rhonda."): Would Rhonda have been a pink-wearing, purse-toting, high heel-loving fake blonde? Would Rhonda have worshipped Michelle Pfeiffer instead of Michelle Akers? Would people have treated Rhonda differently than they treated me? Would Rhonda's life be totally different than mine? I certainly hope not. I'd like to think that "I yam who I yam." But, the cynical side of me is saying that it so does matter.

One thing I'd like to say is that I'm so thankful that my parents never tried to push "feminine" toys, clothes, or stereotypes on me. When I expressed a liking for something, they encouraged it, regardless of what "gender" was supposed to like it. My sister and I both learned to be strong, and both grew up believing we could be anything we wanted.

I want to be a writer and I want to love deeply.


(But I still refuse to wear pink.)