Spirits of Resistance

I don’t steal. I guess more accurately, I’m not in the habit of thievery. I have no moral objections to the practice and admittedly get a certain thrill (now don’t get pervy) when others successfully get what they want without using money. However, on Wednesday night I committed my only (and most significant) act of larceny. I stole this:

This clock which is now hanging on my closet door, although unassuming and fucking ugly, is currently the most prolific (and ironic??!) symbol of oppression in my life. Not counting all the subconscious kaka and I deal with every day. I hate my job-- it makes me sad. Monday through Friday that clock greets me and ushers in the start of 9+ hours of bullshit of under-achievement. So I took it. I'll give a nod to Aihwa Ong and Malay factory workers for inspiring this act of resistance.

This act is relatively harmless; they’ll just get another clock. But in my mind and more importantly in my heart I’ve decided to “fuck the clock” and fuck whatever is telling me that I am what I do or what I can produce or shit I’m not on track. I am not—we are not our jobs (if you have a cool one then good for you), and we are also not our lack of jobs either.

As queers we have been thrust into a world of quad-sight: two regular eyes, plus one to see oppression, and the other to see and identify social structures. In my opinion, anyone who can see clearly has an obligation and responsibility to look clearly. Look and reexamine etc….

Don’t expect any grand gestures ladies, a girl has gotta eat and get her hair did. I will however, make a more conscience effort to emancipate myself from corporate slavery and the notion that I am behind. Behind what? Who? I mean, who exactly am I running with? This is redick.

Whatever. I stole an ugly clock and now I’m Angela Davis/Audre Lorde? I guess what I’m pushing is - I’m so over it.

On a more serious note Halle Berry is single (Jesus!)

-- sister girl a.k.a. Cordelia