Sometimes I'm ashamed to be a female

I like to believe that I am a good driver. I have been in maybe two little bumps which should not even qualify as accidents. However, given the fact that I have breasts as well as the other required equipment to be a female I have been given the stigma that I am a bad driver. I take offense to that; I know far more males that are far worse drivers than some of the female drivers I would consider bad. But then, there are always those times when I'm driving and minding my own business, singing loud and proud, when I see out of the corner of my eye a car driving so erratically that I stop singing and just stare. The person can't be drunk it's only 7:30 AM... well I mean they COULD be drunk, but that would be seriously wrong... So I try and pass the demon car to get a better look at the driver. And low and behold there is a young female, talking on the cellphone and playing with the radio. I admit, I am quite guilty of doing the same thing, but you don't see me swerving all over Rt. 128, do you?
I have to say though, the worst drivers I have seen have been women/girls (teenager types) that aren't doing anything except driving. And let me tell you, those are the scariest drivers I have ever shared the road with. Girls that don't know how to merge onto the highway but insist on getting into the left-most lane no matter how many cars they hit or knock aside in their path. Women that just look like they are in a whole world of their own because they have this silly smile plastered on their face... Women that are talking to their passengers while flailing their arms about and looking at the passengers instead of at the road. Not going to lie to you, it makes me ashamed to be a female sometimes...

Men

If I could have any power it would be the power to read people’s minds. I know what you’re thinking “But what if you don’t want to know what someone is thinking all the time?” And you’re right, I wouldn’t want to know what some people are thinking all of the time which is why, in this hypothetical world, I would be able to control whose mind I can read and whose mind I can’t. Number one on my list of people whose minds I can read would be men. All men. I know that they always claim that us, women, are difficult to read and understand but I am taking the stand that men will forever be the sex that remains a mystery.
I mean seriously, let’s think about this logically. If a woman likes a man she lets him know by leaning towards him, grooming herself in front of him (such as playing with her hair, touching her face), or laughing at the horrible jokes he tells. But if a man likes a woman he might tease her, ignore her when in the same vicinity, or even roughhouse with her (believe me, there are some guys out there that do that). Now if I was the third party and heard a guy teasing a girl I would think “Why won’t she get the hint? He obviously doesn’t like her.” But no, this is actually a guy’s way of telling a girl that he is interested.

Careers

Sometimes I sit at my desk and think about what I would rather be doing. Most of the time I would rather be sleeping in a nice warm bed. Other times I wish I would wake up one day and be back in college with enough time to switch my major to something that I would actually be able to use once I graduated. Don’t get me wrong, I love Psychology and if I could afford to live on a low salary I would be working horrible hours with horrible pay in the field. But to be honest I don’t want to go back to graduate school just to spend more money on a piece of paper that will tell potential employers that I wasted many years of my life so that they would deem me suitable for the position.

I’ve thought about becoming a police officer but since my father is a firefighter he said that he wishes for more for me so I feel like I would be a let down if I ever pursued that career path. I’ve also thought about obtaining a teaching license in special education. That’s closely related to psychology and it is a set career that has a set title and I would be set when looking for jobs. None of this, “I could do human resources or administrative work or social services, etc.” I would be looking through the classifieds and go straight to the education listings and look specifically for special education listings. How could searching for a job get any easier?

Then there are times where I think I am so artistic so I should try to sell some of my “artwork.” And by artwork I mean pieces of writing not drawings as I have been asked many people to describe my pictures of a heart to them as they are lost and cannot even begin to imagine that shape in front of them. When I get the feeling that I should try and sell some of my writings I go back and read them. Then I start to get really depressed because everything that I write about is a stream of consciousness and not a story. These pieces of writing are my own thoughts and anxieties about everyday life. I have pieces on guys and the frustration they bring me. I have pieces on the way I used to think about my life and how I wanted to end it. Who would want to read these pieces? I look at some of the memoirs that are on the shelves in Barnes and Nobles and I think to myself, “What’s so great and different about my life that I could write my life story and someone would want to read it?”

I always get stuck with that question. Who wants to read about a girl who once in her childhood did everything in her power to end her life but never overcame that depression, she just lives with it because she has to? Who wants to read about her boyfriends and how great they all were and that she was never stable enough to hold onto any of them? I mean, seriously, if there are people out there that would like to read that stuff I want to meet them because I would want to know how much money to charge for admission into the freak show that is my life.