November Writing Challenge Day 19

Rules change. 

Yes, they do. They change so quickly that sometimes I can’t keep up with them. 

The unspoken rule for Southern Ladies is: school, university (which you’re allowed to drop out of if you meet the right man), token job, marriage, babies, volunteering, and then you wait on death. Laugh all you want, it’s true. Look around you. How many women stray from that? And how are they regarded? Maybe the rules changed in other parts of the country, but not in well-to-do circles. Not in Appalachia. 

Rules change for what you fight for. The right to vote. The right to drive. The right to wear pants! Or no pants! 

Rules are made, followed for a time, then people begin slacking off until it’s no longer an enforced rule. And that generally benefits me, because I’m not much of a rule follower. But I don’t know that I’m a breaker, either, unless I feel justified. 

Rules about running in halls, no skateboarding on sidewalks, stop for pedestrians and school busses, clean up after your dog, be kind-rewind…how many rules pop into my head. It’s so restrictive. But what else? We could be an anarchy nation, no governing bodies to keep us in line. And then what? Murder and mayhem, that’s what. 

So yes to adaptive rules. Because we have to upgrade from our muskets and powderkegs eventually. We no longer drink from pewter giblets and think tomatoes are toxic. But some things shall remain forbidden, for good reason. 

I feel like I talked in circles without saying anything in this one. Much like life. Confusing.