30: more testosterone, please.

Nothing has changed since I turned 30. I did have a good birthday.

Several issues I must solve right now. First, what’s up with the miserable hours and hourly rates from my company? I have to confront them more directly about this situation. This is not acceptable. I’m leaning towards this being a genuinely difficult situation for them as well. As in, it really is just more difficult to find students in the upper grades. Still, I’m not going to give them 100% on that. I’ll give that a 70% chance. Ultimatum prepared by the end of February: if they aren’t filling me 50% of my time with upper grades, then I’ll quit. As simple as that.

Now, another issue is, I realize how easily I quit and/or back out from a plan. Of course, one cannot blame everything on self-misogyny (that is, misogynistic to oneself, e.g. a fully capable, professional mother backing out of her profession because she believes that it’s the best way to save her marriage, e.e.g. my mother). But this time I will, because, O, it’s just so convenient. I have to imagine that this anxiety, this need to find a better career, is probably 10x as intense in a man, on average. I have to image what it’s like to feel 10x the need to be competitive and marketable. What I’m feeling and doing is simply not enough. I still operate more or less within “The Female Milieu.” I still, more or less, give myself more space than an average man would.

More testosterone, please.

If there’s anything I wish for my 30th birthday, it’s testosterone. I have about 15 good years before menopause, so please, give me more energy and will and drive.

I’m down on my knees
with no guarantee
of pleasure. –Midnight Ambassador, “Pleasure”

Oh and I’ve forgotten about the rest of the problems. Well probably trivial, cuz ain’t women’s issues trivial by default.

BTW, you gotta go down more often, baby.