last night's debate needed to happen.

nucular. nuc-ular. nucuuuuuular. NUCULAR is not a word. nuc-lear is a word. allow me to spell it phonetically: noo-klee-er. from the french word nucléaire, which means unpronounceable on television by substandard vice presidential candidates. of all the things that bothered me about last night’s debate (and believe me there were a few), this mispronunciation takes the cake, and here’s why:

i am not good at guy stuff. in fact, i’m a disaster. and although i happen to believe (as any good feminist should) that gender is a social construction, i still find myself completely lost when it comes to the following things:

i have a confession. i’m a fair weather feminist. i like to pretend that the term third wave actually means that i can interpret feminism however i want to. that i can forgo independence, reproductive choice and egalitarian relationships when a certain mood strikes me. and that certain mood is loneliness. or rather, a fear of loneliness.

i wrote yesterday about a conversation i had with my mom where she asked me where my spunk was. and by golly, i think i’ve started to find it.