The Fool

She told me I was being fooled. She even said something to the effect that I had fallen into a societal trap. Before I had even failed the exam she suggested I was failing at the way I practiced feminism. Or rather, I was falling for a female blunder. I cried a bit I think. It was a rainy cold day in Philadelphia. I had just spent over an hour with the baby in the car seat, trying to find a Staples to buy a printer cartridge, so I could print the outline of some work in progress. Let's see, I did get it printed, but my stress level had reached an all time high. I think I got a ticket for where I parked and the heavy rain reminded me of how Easterners are so good at having umbrellas and how at that moment with River in my arms in the cold wet, I wished I had that instinct. I think I was late meeting her. She suggested a tea shop on the other side of Broad and, of course, north of the south side where I lived. In any case, I did not bring my baby, as I often had to meetings with her. I remember delaying for his naptime. I remember the way the seams were falling apart in the grey Jersey sky and also how the concrete and asphalt of highway one were cracking like an egg. I had him with me that time, but not now. She heard how I had structured my theory curriculum and she critiqued me severely. We talked about other things. She ended up noticing my exhaustion and stress. She did not want me to move, she did not want me to leave the program, and there I was asking to, because my family was failing to thrive. She told me I had been duped, she insisted I prioritize the work. She warned me that is how things operate in mysogyny. She told me the story of her engagement and subsequent breakup during her PhD exams. He thought she studied too much. She didn't understand the unintentional quality of it though. She did not see the flame go out in his eyes, eyes used to mountain tops. The earth is not vital there, he withered beyond his will. Neverthelesss, I let it go. And it is fine really. Sometimes I think I should have come straight back here and gone back to KBSU. Then I remember my mid-wives. I remember all I learned and the travel the work brought. I remember the beauty of Philly, and the awesome pre-school. I remember diversity. SO it was worth it? That is intense for sure. Did I really fail at feminism? I know when I went back to take my orals, after a gruelling re-take of maybe 40? pages in 24 hours, they snickered at my pregnancy. They think I failed. Canyon is beautiful. I treated him poorly tonight, bickered with him over not falling asleep, when he only wanted comfort. But I have none to give tonight, it was lost outside of me, it had been removed, so I could not give in the way he needed. But he was worth it, and failing feminism there is not vital to succeeding here, NOW. Maybe I am a trap, made of wires, or rods, perhaps even barbs. Maybe I was constructed this way and thats a fact. Or maybe I can find the key to unlock or dismantle the machine I have become, to reprogram the parts of me that cause constriction and corrosion. I am looking, looking... Or MAYBE...