My Past Lives

I have many interests and passions that I want to pursue in life. Some of them I enjoy so much that I wonder from where that interest derives…aka, why do I like it? The only reasonable answer is that I had several occupations in my past lives. If I believed in past lives. And was reasonable.

Biblical Times: Carpenter

I love to build stuff. Legos, building blocks, the Sims…love it all. When I was a kid I wanted to be an architect. And then when I started going on mission trips in high school, I loved power tools. And demolition, of course, that’s the best part! Then my dream was squashed when my mom told me that there weren’t enough architect jobs, especially for females. Dream-squasher. However, assuming that we are going in some sort of chronological order here, I would have had to be a male in order to be a successful carpenter in Biblical times (such a strange scenario in that I had a gender change and was able to meet Jesus. But roll with me here.) That’s just the way it is. Women weren’t carpenters. They couldn’t even own land. You were basically a baby-generator. Which leads me to my next occupation…

Late 1800’s: Feminist

Those of you that knew me in college know that once I read The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan, I told EVERY FEMALE about it. It basically changed my life and gave me some more purpose, not that I wasn’t loaded with that already. Wikipedia says that …”according to The New York Times obituary of Friedan in 2006, it “ignited the contemporary women’s movement in 1963 and as a result permanently transformed the social fabric of the United States and countries around the world’ and ‘is widely regarded as one of the most influential nonfiction books of the 20th century.’” So thanks for recommending that book for me.

In the late 1800’s, I would’ve been in the front lines, fighting for women’s voting rights from the start. This former life is where I get my “fight the man” spunk. It doesn’t matter who “the man” is or even if “he” lacks XY chromosomes…just fight him. He’s oppressing you. Whatever “he” represents.

Sometimes, I wish that I didn’t believe in women’s rights so much. Like, let’s just not have a job. No need to use that college education. Just…be a baby generator. Crank ’em out. That’s all that women are good for anyway, right?* (My caveat here is if you want to be a family woman, then go for it. Reach for the stars, be the best mom you can be! I am merely saying that motherhood isn’t the only role of the female in this world.)

Haha. Yeah right.

Early 1960s to 1970s: Hippie

If I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again…classic rock just moves my soul! And if I had enough guts, I might consider growing dreadlocks. Maybe. I was once told I was born in the wrong decade and I’ve since stuck with that. I just love love love the music, the clothing…all of it. However, I think it’s a good thing I was born in the late ’80s…had I been a real hippie, it would’ve been too easy to get, er, caught up in the movement if you know what I’m saying. I did live on a farm last summer for a bit…that’s kind of hippie-esque. Modern day hippie. No. Scratch that. Modern day sweat-y is more like it.

And where would I be today if I had been stuck on LSD in the ’70s!?! I probably wouldn’t have as clean teeth (still going on zero cavities, thanks!).

And I probably would not be a dietetic student  😉


2 thoughts on “My Past Lives

  1. I love your blog! And your writing style!! My blog has not reached such entertaining heights as yours…to which I aspire one day. I like this blog to because I can so see you doing all those things! My inner feminist activist has also recently been igniting in grad school, so I’m right there beside you sister on the front lines of the 60’s!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s