A dead computer. A dead idea.

It's this weird thing with Mike that we just came to realize. There are somethings that I say to him that he simply doesn't respond to. And I don't even realize he hasn't responded until hours or days later. An example:

Elis: "Mike -- your dad's birthday is next Monday. We need to get him a present."

(silence -- too long for me)

Elis: "Oh, and I want to get portraits taken of Emmett and Ethan, and whatever happened with..."

Then, Sunday, I'll realize that we don't have a present for Mike's dad's birthday and we never actually discussed it. So, I'm thinking, what is happening? I can't get this thing going. And in talking to Mike, the reason is because he's not there. He doesn't have ideas. He doesn't care as much as me. So the idea goes into an abyss. Unless I deal with it now, it won't be dealt with.

So, what is it? It's my effort to get something off my plate in the easiest way possible -- throwing it over to Mike. And based on this acidic conversation I had with my friend, I'm starting to think that, based on my perscribed gender roles, I have no right to get mad about something like this. I'm the one that defined it. I'm the one that has to buy presents. Even for hard people like Mike's dad.

There was a time when I did everything for myself. I was not in any way connected with gender roles and usually took on a masculine position in my female households. (I hooked up the phone wires. I hauled the heavy stuff. I was the one that figured out bills). It was the moving of heavy things that started all this off. That and driving.
I HATE moving heavy things. I was the "helper" with my dad's crazy finds my whole life. I was always helping him lug things up from the car or into the attic. I have permanent muscles from this (seriously) but I hated every minute of it. And driving. I am not into driving. I greatly prefer to look out the window and get into loud music. So, when Mike and I got married, these were my only requests. I don't want to move heavy things. I don't want to drive.

And then, as I got older, an avalanche occurred. I wanted to take more time getting fixed up. I didn't want to go out unless I felt I looked good. I didn't want to do anything that required learning. I didn't feel like learning how to use the VCR. (yes. I'm not kidding. I don't know how to work our stupid VCR). And here I am. The epitome of the primadonna I was feministly against for most of my adult life.

So how can I change it, I keep thinking. I am so in this pattern. Anything uncomfortable to me, Mike will do. I think it starts with painting pictures. The very act of making time, lugging out my supplies, making the painting, washing brushes and putting it all away is a huge pain. And it starts with sorting the basement. He can do it and I'm waiting for him to do it, but why am I not doing it.

I hated much of the feminist I was in college and after -- please don't get me wrong. And I like being into makeup for the first time in my life. BUT, I am an artist, a creator and very capable of things that a man can do (minus lifting heavy things. I am not doing that). So, I have to get back into being a partner and not a wife.