bucket list

• Go back to Meteora
• Live in Vienna again
• Go back to the Vatican
• Go back to Nice and Barcelona with a significant other
• Climb a mountain
• Take another trip to Europe
• Backpack through Asia
• Get baptized
• Try blowfish
• Learn how to ride a bike
• Learn how to ride a motorcycle
• Learn how to drive a stick-shift
• Live in a Victorian house
• Own a dog
• Go skydiving
• Backpack/bike across the western US
• Go to Alaska
• Have a book/essay published
• Drive that one scary road in South America
• Go hiking in the Black Forrest
• Visit Chernobyl
• Get married
• Have a daughter
• Trace back my family tree
• Run/walk a marathon
• Go to Jerusalem and Mecca
• Have a garden
• Ride in a hot air balloon
• Visit Egypt 
• (14/11/2011) spend at least a year in service

Off to travel the world a bit more... see y'all in a week!
auf wiedersehen,
c.

a musing

I think it is very interesting that my recent trip to Auschwitz and especially Birkenau has made me feel closer to God… or to at least feel like I understand Him better. I think I might actually be mentally and emotionally built for the “grim acceptance” style of faith. I think so many people like to sugar coat God and how he acts, and they overlook the fact that he indirectly created all of the sorrow we deal with- that he allowed us to have free will, which has led to the existence of evil. That he continues to allow evil to exist. And I think that’s one of his greatest kindnesses that he gave us something to contrast with the absolute joy we can experience. Maybe that’s part of spiritual maturity… being able to see God’s greatness not only in love and nature and all of the good things in life, but in the horrors, too. It certainly requires a great deal of discipline to be able to do both equally. 

this is such a small part of my musings regarding the trip.

things that make me smile

1. Meine kleine Schwester. No seriously. A snippet of an earlier conversation with my baby sister (okay, she's 10 years old, but she'll always be my baby sister):

We went to Surin today. My tummy is happy :) CHEESE.
cheese?
I like cheese. WOOOOOHOOOOOO.

Oh my gosh, I love her. And not just because she shares my fondness of cheese... though that definitely has something to do with it. I mean y'all remember my Macaroni and Cheese craze over the summer, right? But yeah, anyways... I love how she is possibly the only person more ridiculously random than I am.

2. Purple pens.
3. Vienna in the rain :)
4. Men who are more organizational than I am.
5. Dubstep.

Das ist alles.

UPDATE: I just noticed that this is my 100th post! Woot!

some snapshots

the Prater (carnival)

one of my favorite buildings

another favorite

my first impulse buy... I suppose it says a lot about me that it's something so practical

Hundertwasserhaus!

the street at night

a "sick photo" of Lindsey, me, and a BMW

a very small part of Stephansdome

on the random

i love Natalie Merchant. that is all.

a little trip

I am currently in Vienna, and as such, I will be mostly posting on my travel blog. Go see!

just because it doesn't matter doesn't mean you shouldn't do it

I rather dislike apathy and complacency.

Okay, I really really REALLY hate it, and here's why.

A wise man once said that whatever we do in life will be insignificant, but that it is important that we do it anyways. Far too many people remain stagnant in their thoughts and emotions and actions out of extreme complacency and selfish apathy. We should never talk ourselves out of moving forward because we believe our actions to be insignificant.

I used to refuse to follow politics and current affairs and the like. This rather ludicrous decision of mine stemmed from a few places- disinterest mainly. Also, there were no major elections being held at the time. I'm sure arrogance factored in somewhere.The most disturbing motivation, however, was that I believed because I was one I could not make a difference.

I was quite wrong. "One" is the difference between so many things.

This whole revelation has been building for a while, and I'm not about to sit still on the heels of it. I've decided to start regularly reading a couple of newspapers to know what's going on. When I get back to the states I am going to register to vote. I may be only one college student, but goshdarnit I am going to try my hardest to make a difference or to at least show a bit of interest in the goings on of others. This whole not caring business is rather selfish and hardhearted. I want my soul back; somewhere in the past few years it was eaten up with cynicism and apathy. If I stop caring this early in life, then there is little hope for the rest of my time.

The Help

I went and saw The Help with my best friend last night. I love it. A lot. If you haven't seen it, go watch it. I should probably mention at this point that I have committed reader-sin... I have yet to read the book The Help. Anyways, it's inspired me to try and be a bit more thankful for things that I take for granted. They are as follows (I promise my listing habit will dissipate soon):

1. Insulin: (I've mentioned before that I'm diabetic.) Insulin has only been readily available in the past century or so. I'm not sure if diabetes has been recognized as an illness for longer than that, and I'm a bit too lazy to wade through all the stuff that pops up when I google the topic. Either way, it's pretty safe to say that had I been born before 1930 or so, I probably would have been in pretty bad shape.

2. Reading and Writing: I am a woman ( I know, "no duh") but that doesn't really make much difference today. I don't really think I need to explain the history of equality among men and women... needless to say, women have not always been allowed the right to read and write. I don't know what I would do without my novels and journals.

3. Equality: I could've listed reading and writing under this, but I think they deserve their own spot. I am so very thankful that I live in a country that doesn't tolerate racism. Well, that does it's damnedest to not tolerate it. My heart goes out to anyone who doesn't have this privilege. The fear and anger and paranoia that such a hateful practice breeds- it makes for a horrible environment to live in.

4. Freedom of Religion: I may not be the most religious, and when I am feeling particularly moralistic and churchy I may buy into the religion of choice in our country. That's not to say I don't deeply value tolerance; like I've said before, hatefulness is a horrible thing to live around- for the haters and the hated alike. A country becomes toxic any time there is a break in respect for each other.

5. My Parents: In the movie, Aibileen tells the little girl she watches "You is kind, you is smart, you is important." My mom was always very careful to watch what she said to my sister and me, always making sure it was a positive statement rather than a negative. My dad never stopped believing in what my sister and I could do. I know neither of them grew up in that situation- not at all. And I know lots of people who don't have good parents. I'm very thankful for mine.

I could probably go on all day listing out what I'm thankful for, but I feel like these five take the cake. I think it's a great exercise, this listing out what one is thankful for. I encourage anyone reading this to try it; hell, you don't even have to write it out. Just think about it.

goodness

Today, I finished my school supplies shopping. It made me feel very accomplished, which is fantastic. Feeling accomplished, that is. I haven't in a while; I've just had so much going on that I don't have time to savor the fuzzy-accomplished-feelings before moving on to the next thing. Anyways, I have a deep dark secret I need to share. You know how sometimes you REALLY need to just blurt something out to get it off your chest? Like that one Poe story with the beating heart. Well I need to confess something.

I have an office supplies fetish. Okay, maybe fetish is a strong word... no, wait, it's not. It's definitely a fetish. I flippin' love office supplies. Especially post-its. I have a stash of post-its. Every year I go school supplies shopping, and I get a couple of things of post-its... and I never use them all. And so I have been accumulating post-its since I was in middle school. I also really love moleskins- they're amazing and durable and they're just feel-good notebooks. And oh my goodness the purple pens. I LOVE purple pens. I have planners, too. I have a planning fetish as well. I have a day planner and a wall calendar and my phone and facebook and...

There, I feel much better now.

it'll light up the sky

When I was growing up, my mom used to quote her dad: Either do it right, or don't do it at all. I live by this, unwittingly- which is why it's so miraculous and dumbfounding that I haven't yet applied it to my romances and relationships. But no longer!

Mom and I saw the Help today. It was fantastic, though heart wrenching for her (it takes a lot for me to have my heart torn at by a movie); she grew up in the same type of maid-raising-the-chillens situation. Anyways, it struck me in the middle of it all, this thought:

I want a roll of thunder type of love.

I don't want to settle. I am so very sick of settling. I don't want romance; romance is just flowers and having to look good all the time and kisses and sugar coated lies to make you feel good. I want the raw, unmistakable, powerful love that just takes your breath away. The kind that says "So what if you look like death? I don't care. Not at all." The kind that isn't afraid to yell and scream.

I think that's the main difference between actual love and what we think is love but is actually romance- the anger. When you love someone, you aren't afraid to show every side of yourself- the good, the bad, the ugly. Romance has to be prim and proper all the time. I hate that.

So I am going to just move on... waiting for my roll of thunder.

this made me smile

Because it is entirely too far overdue

So without further ado, here is my list of Must-Reads (in no particular order)

Preacher by Garth Ennis
I've already rambled a bit about this one. Basically, there's this preacher who gets possessed by the unnatural spawn of an angel and a demon. Not good, right? So he goes on a very Western-like quest to get rid of the little bugger. The series consists of ten graphic novels, and it made me question and then reaffirm my faith, which is always a good exercise for anyone. But beware- it's a tad vulgar.

Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein
This novel tells the story of Michael Valentine Smith, a "martian" who's actually a human who just grew up on Mars. Crazy, huh? Anyways, there is a truly amazing amount of love-for-one's-neighbor within the story. But know this- you'll probably have to read it at least a couple of times before you grok it.

The Mortal Instruments Series by Cassandra Clare
Yes, the main character is a ginger named Clary. No, this is not why I ADORE this series. Okay, maybe it has something to do with it. But I mean, with a ginger protagonist, it has to be good, right? Right. Anyways, this is your basic teen-angst-fantasy series. It's better than Twilight, not as good as Harry Potter, but still fantastic- though I will admit it is a beach-books type read. The first three books are out, the next three to come out in the next two years. There is also a prequel series coming out as well.  

The Abhorsen Series by Garth Nix
This is my favorite series from middle school. I'm not even going to try to explain the plot, mostly because I'd have to use jargon that doesn't really make sense in a two-sentence summary. The series- which consists of three books, Sabriel, Lireal, and Abhorsen- is in your face fantasy, but don't let that dissuade you. It's absolutely fabulous. 

The Great Gatsby, The Love of the Last Tycoon, and This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Everyone needs a little Fitzgerald in their life. Is he a tad depressing? Maybe. But his use of language is phenomenal and his look at American life during the first half of the 20th century is unique and revealing. And readers can learn from all of his characters. Gatsby shows how to not go about loving someone; Stahr displays how to be a workaholic with a soul; Amory acts out the arrogant impulses of American youth. What's even better is that most of these are in the public domain, so you can find the full texts for free somewhere online.  

The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
The story is told by Charlie, a socially awkward teenager, through letters to an anonymous character. Basically a great coming of age novel, though seriously heart-wrenching at the end. I've read this book three times. Read it, love it, repeat. 

As Simple As Snow by Gregory Galloway
Basic " boy meets goth girl, courts goth girl, goth girl disappears" plot. But another great coming of age novel. AND there's this fun interactive website that corresponds with the mystery aspect of it. Once again, read it, love it, repeat. 

Looking For Alaska by John Green
Obscene, vulgar, amusing, insightful... Yet another coming of age novel. And yet again, read it, love it, repeat. 
 
The Harry Potter Series by J.K. Rowling
I don't really care if you don't like fantasy novels, or if you think "kid's books" are "beneath you." The Harry Potter series is one of the most influential and widely read series of the past half century. As such, active and "well read" members of society should read at least the first novel so as to have an informed stance on the books. It has marked a generation just like Star Wars marked generations before ours. If you haven't read it, take action to rectify such a grievous oversight at once. 

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
It's actually a trilogy, consisting of The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay; they all definitely have a futuristic dystopia type theme. The series follows the actions of Katniss, who unwittingly starts a rebellion when she outsmarts a brutality-filled entertainment event called the hunger games where young children are forced to fight to the death in a survivor type scenario. It sounds rather horrifying, but trust me- it's addictive (and not in the voyeuristic type of way). 

1984 by George Orwell and Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
These are both dystopia novels- 1984 talks about a government oppression based on poverty, Brave New World speaks of one based on vice. Both are excellent in their own right. Read 1984 and you'll no longer take for granted written words. Dive into Brave New World you won't ever look at your smartphone the same way again. -shudder- 

The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice
I love Anne Rice's writing style. Everyone's allowed a few irrationals and a few inexplicables; well my love for these books is one of my inexplicables. Just read a few, alright? My favorites are The Vampire Lestat, Queen of the Damned, and Memnoch the Devil. 

The Bible
Okay, here me out before you start disagreeing. The Bible is one of the oldest texts we have, as well as one of the most influential. If you believe everything in your handy dandy Gideon, great! Kudos to you. But if you don't (and thus think you needn't read the Bible), remember this: a great deal of the rhetoric we use in our literature and day-to-day language can be traced back to scripture. Read a couple of books from both the old and new testaments, if for no other reason than to be well informed and to pay homage to language.


and for your convenience, this list can be found there yonder under "Pages"

the great perhaps

This has been circling my mind; perhaps I should reread Looking for Alaska. Also, I love this quote... “Unless it’s mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it’s a waste of your time. There are too many mediocre things in life. Love shouldn’t be one of them.” 

this made my heart melt

The Castle Anthrax

My beloved Bellatrix is saved! However, after fixing her my friend renamed her "The Castle Anthrax." I was not amused at the time, but the name is slowly growing on me (if you have no idea what this references, google it).

I have recently taken on a few commissions; pictures of the artwork will be up soon. If anyone would like a painting/drawing, let me know (I believe I have my email listed somewhere on here).

I really have nothing else to say, as of right now. Maybe a rant will pop up later this week.

max cheese

My beautiful bellatrix is sick, most likely from a virus (bellatrix is my laptop); hence the lack of posting.

But wait! There is an upside to this! During my absense from the interwebs, I have been cooking... a lot. And almost everything has been a variation on homegrown macaroni and cheese. I know, I know- AMAZING, right? Anyways, once I have access to my computer again, I shall post a couple of my favorite recipes.

It's my full moon

And I have a bit of pent up frustration. Allow me to vent a little...

[drum roll]

things that annoy the you-know-what out of me

1. Girl issues.
2. People who use text-lingo in situations where you know they have full access to a keyboard (emailing, for instance)."How r u?" is not an acceptable way to start an email. Ever.
3. Old coffee.
4. Weak coffee.
5. Coffee with a lot of cream and sugar in it.
6. Ignorant people that take pride in their ignorance.
7. Really really bad grammar. I can tolerate minor discrepancies (most of the time) but there are some things that just don't fly.
8. People who find out that I'm diabetic and automatically give me a once over looking for the flab. Yes, I know I'm not obese. Thank you for being so kind to notice.
9. Blatant hypocrisy.
10. Cheap scare tactics.
11. People who don't use turning signals. They are there for a reason other than making that awful clicking/beeping noise.
12. People who scoff, laugh, or smirk at my workaholism.
13. Spellcheck not recognizing words like "workaholism" and "spellcheck" as being spelled correctly.
14. Patronizingness.
15. My foot going to sleep.
16. Most vegetables.
17. Faint, indistinct, horrible smells that linger for months.
18. Having to use reading glasses and go to the chiropractor at my age (though I will possibly agree that these two things may or may not be directly related to my workaholism).
19. The combination of insomnia and non-productivity.
20. Internet randomly deciding to go away. [twitch]

Thank you all for suffering through that. I feel much better now.

Forgive Me

But I am going to nerd out just a little here.

My old Starbucks boss is the closest thing I have to a pop-culture dictionary. Movies, music, books, you name it and if he hasn't personally seen, heard, or read it he at least knows about it. Needless to say he's not only flippin' awesome but he's also pretty useful to have around.

Ever since I started working for him last summer he's been loaning me comic books- well, graphic novels- to read. I had read a few before I met him; namely the first two in Neil Gaiman's Sandman series and Jhonen Vasquez's Johnny the Homicidal Maniac and Squee. None of which truly measured up to my favorite series...[drum roll]...Preacher by Garth Ennis and Steve Dillon.

I don't know what it is about the series... maybe it's because Jesse Custer (note picture) is from Texas, and therefor more awesome and bad-ass than most. It doesn't really matter why I love Preacher; what matters is that you read it.

Oh how I wish this fact were more widely acknowledged.

So many paint problems to be a treacherous one-way path, with a steep incline to each side so that even one person can barely pass. They paint an issue to be this or that person's fault, an only this or that person's fault. This is hardly ever the case. Problems, disputes, whatever one may call them, especially those between people, and certainly those augmented by emotions, are roundabouts. Disputes rarely come from a single slight, but rather a conversation of offenses that feed off of each other. Highly personal disagreements chase after themselves, with the same repetition of a dog chasing after its own tail. In order to resolve any sort of issue, all parties must first acknowledge this, and then accept that it is in fact not just one party's fault. It is the fault of every one involved. Then and only then can the problem at hand begin to dissipate, through cooperation and compromise.

one

I was once an artist. My high school art teacher covered, in my earliest art class, the idea that odd numbers make for good design. I don't know why; it probably falls into the ambiguous class of reasons that also contains the reasons for why we all become more subdued around the correct shade of blue and why we become ravenous around the color orange. All I know is that a single red dot pulls the eye in- it makes a rather bold assertion. Two red dots, though- all they do is confuse or subdue. But they are not alone. Is the boldness and attention that comes with being the single red dot worth the inevitable? Loneliness? So often it seems that when one chooses to be bold, one also inevitably chooses a rather lonely path. To stand out means just that- standing out.

well THAT was unexpected

I do not read newspapers. I like the idea of reading newspapers, and I enjoy actually knowing what is up in the world. But I do not EVER read tangible newspapers; the reason? I can't maneuver the really really big pieces of newsprint. Pathetic, I know.

To compensate for my lack of newspaper reading, I occasionally pop onto The New York Times website and peruse the world section. There's always the nuclear power story, the foreign diplomacy gone wrong. Today there was a particular story that caught my attention- one of a writing experiment spiraling out of control. I invite you all to read more of this story.

Nothing like Victorian literature to thouroughly kill that high-on-life buzz....

...or so I once thought. But now... now I am not so sure.

One thing I am sure of is that Kate Chopin just jumped up into my top ten authors list. I finished The Awakening this evening, and though the ending was admittedly depressing it was none the less satisfying. I am not going to say anymore on the subject as I will undoubtedly spoil it all for anyone who endeavors to read this gratifying novel.

There is a section of the novel that stood out:

"If I were young and in love with a man," said Mademoiselle, turning on the stool and pressing her wiry hands between her knees as she looked down at Edna, who sat on the floor holding the letter, "it seems to me he would have to be some grand espirit; a man with lofty aims and ability to reach them; one who stood high enough to attract the notice of his fellow-men. It seems to me if I were young and in love I should never deem a man of ordinary caliber worthy of my devotion."

And Edna goes on to say that one does not choose whom one falls in love with. As I said before, this caught my attention. For what reason, I cannot precisely place my finger upon. I can only say that it led me to seriously question a great deal about my romantic endeavors thus far.

It is not prestige that makes literature great or spectacular. It is the enduring loyalty to the human condition that makes Shakespeare, Dante, Austen and yes, Chopin, beautiful and relevant. Not just for days and months and a handful of years, but for centuries.

I believe it can be...

 

Idealism: [ahy-dee-uh-liz-uhm] n. the cherishing or pursuit of high or noble principles, purposes, goals, etc.

it's nice to see someone has a pair

I found this during my early morning coffee-and-stumbleupon time at political irony. 

This letter to the editor was published in a newspaper in Michigan, after Governor Rick Snyder and the Republican-controlled legislature voted to cut the school budget by $300 per student, and redistribute some of the funding to increase funding for prisons:

Dear Governor Snyder,

In these tough economic times, schools are hurting. And yes, everyone in Michigan is hurting right now financially, but why aren’t we protecting schools? Schools are the one place on Earth that people look to to “fix” what is wrong with society by educating our youth and preparing them to take on the issues that society has created.

One solution I believe we must do is take a look at our corrections system in Michigan. We rank nationally at the top in the number of people we incarcerate. We also spend the most money per prisoner annually than any other state in the union. Now, I like to be at the top of lists, but this is one ranking that I don’t believe Michigan wants to be on top of.

Consider the life of a Michigan prisoner. They get three square meals a day. Access to free health care. Internet. Cable television. Access to a library. A weight room. Computer lab. They can earn a degree. A roof over their heads. Clothing. Everything we just listed we DO NOT provide to our school children.

This is why I’m proposing to make my school a prison. The State of Michigan spends annually somewhere between $30,000 and $40,000 per prisoner, yet we are struggling to provide schools with $7,000 per student. I guess we need to treat our students like they are prisoners, with equal funding. Please give my students three meals a day. Please give my children access to free health care. Please provide my school district Internet access and computers. Please put books in my library. Please give my students a weight room so we can be big and strong. We provide all of these things to prisoners because they have constitutional rights. What about the rights of youth, our future?!

Please provide for my students in my school district the same way we provide for a prisoner. It’s the least we can do to prepare our students for the future…by giving our schools the resources necessary to keep our students OUT of prison.

Respectfully submitted,
Nathan Bootz
Superintendent
Ithaca Public Schools

there seems to be an ongoing theme here...

Last night I stumbled upon this lovely little article regarding the slut walk and the incident in Toronto that sparked the event. I would just repost and cite the article but I have been censoring most of my rambles in an effort to keep my lovely little blog friendly to all readers. Occasionally I swear a little. But not as much as the author of this article.

inertia should not need sustenance

I really love driving and for the longest time I couldn't figure out why. It costs money and requires a particular level of focus that can, at times, be exhausting. And then it hit me, after almost three years of driving. I love the forward movement, the act of rapidly approaching a destination. It doesn't even matter if the whole process is an illusion (i.e. driving around for the sake of driving around). I just love doing something. I am not the type to willingly put off responsibility in favor of "relaxing." I do not spend vacations vacationing. I am, for better or for worse, thoroughly type A and red. Lately, though, it's been incredibly difficult to keep my productive inertia. My to-do list is even longer now than when I made it early last week; I've felt guilt both upon going to bed without everything done and upon waking up too late in the day. It's just bad.

On the up side, I think I have a solution for my lazy version of the sneaky hate spiral .

Reeeeally? You're joking, right?

So the other night I was driving home, taking my favorite out of the way route, when I passed two fine establishments right off the highway. The first, Spry Funeral Home, I had to think about. I thought, Surely they knew what they were doing. Surely they know how strange this is. I don't know why anyone would dub a funeral home spry. It's probably a family name, but personally if I had that particular last name and I was trying to name my funeral home, I would change my name. Or ditch the family name-d funeral home idea altogether. The second business was a bail-bonding place that advertised a free t shirt with every bail. I can't figure out why I think this is hilarious.

On a completely different note, the word of the day today is vertiginous, which is an adjective meaning "causing dizziness." Awesome word.

Starbucks and Suities

As I am sure most of you know or have figured out, I am a coffee addict. Okay, so that's a bit of an understatement. I am not just an addict. I am the coffee addict that starts to shake and twitch if I go for even a few hours without my java. But it goes beyond that; you see, I used to work at Starbucks. And you can bet that  I use the super-barista powers I obtained during my three month Starbucks employment to my advantage. Occasionally I swoop in and help someone order (don't worry, I only talk to people I actually know).

This past year I lived in a suite-style dorm; each suite had four rooms, a commons room, and a bathroom. Bestie coined the term "suities" for the girls other than one's roomie living in one's suite. I loved all of my suite-mates (which is kind of epically miraculous since I typically don't like girls at all), but Hannah was definitely my favorite. She is quite possibly the most flabbergastingly hilarious person I have ever met. She also has a bit of an issue ordering at Starbucks. It's really quite amusing watching her stand in line, a look of confused exertion on her face, trying to figure out what she wants to order. Somewhere around midterm time during our first semester, I started helping her out.

Me: Okay, do you want coffee or tea?

Hannah: Coffee. Definitely coffee.

Hot or cold? And if cold, do you want it iced or blended?

Uhm...hot?

Chocolate or no?

Definitely chocolate. But I don't want just a plain mocha...

...and so on and so forth. It wasn't till the last month or so of this past semester that she found out I used to work at a Starbucks. She had a near-eureka moment when she found out. Anyways, a couple of days ago she messaged me on a very popular social networking website.

I NEED YOU

whaaaa?


I'm going to Starbucks and I don't know what to get :)

lol I'm totally at starbucks right now. coffee or tea?

Well here's the scenario. It's in the 80s, humid. I'm going to start reading the LAST harry potter book at Starbucks. From there, I'"m going to my school for a fair with animals and all that jazz.

Okay, you want something iced, with lots of caffeine. But sneaky caffeine. Do you want it super sweet?

OF COURSE.

I would get a venti iced white mocha with an extra shot of espresso and a shot of toffee nut. It will make you have not-[insert private school name] appropriate feelings for Starbucks and whoever makes your drink for you. 

bahaha why? 

Because it is orgasmic. like I don't even like white mocha but I LOVE this drink. It is the shiznit, the bombdiggity, the bee's knees...

I love Hannah and her quirkiness. 

hrumph

 I stumbled upon this article a couple of weeks ago and in light of my Hard Core Feminists vs. The Homebodies rant, I thought it might be both relevant and intriguing. Not to mention horrifying, but then again, when is the truth ever pleasant?

‘What a slut’

What that four-letter word really means and why you shouldn’t use it
Mercedes Mueller — The Fulcrum (University of Ottawa)

OTTAWA (CUP) — “And then we went back to my place and fucked,” the girl ahead of me in line at the coffee shop triumphantly declared, catching her friend up on the weekend’s events.
    “I can’t believe you did that,” responded the second girl, incredulously. “You’re such a slut!” Both girls erupted into laughter as they grabbed their coffees and walked away.
    What’s wrong with this conversation? For starters, the fact that most of you silently thought “nothing” in response to that question.
    The word “slut” is everywhere — be it on TV, scribbled across a bathroom stall or in our everyday conversations. Even the Canadian Oxford Dictionary has an entry for slut, yet the word has inconspicuously taken on a meaning greater than that which can be defined by a dictionary.
    First used in the 14th century to refer to “a dirty, untidy or slovenly woman,” the word slut has always been applied to women of low character, specifically those who exhibit questionable sexual behaviour — behaviour that doesn’t conform to society’s patriarchal expectations of a woman’s sexual conduct.
    But within our contemporary culture, where it’s increasingly acceptable for a woman’s sexual identity to exist outside of a marriage, what constitutes “questionable sexual behaviour” is unclear. Nonetheless, words like “slut” and “whore” are hurled at women, usually in an attempt to exert control over their actions.
You’re a woman and you’re open about your sexuality? Slut. You’re a woman who enjoys having sex — be it within the confines of a monogamous relationship or as a career choice? Whore. You’re a woman who has never had sex before, but just so happens to wear shirts that say you do, indeed, have breasts? Skank.
When we consider the endless scenarios that render a woman a slut these days, it becomes clear that this word is used solely to shame a woman for expressing herself sexually. There’s a notion that this act of slut-shaming — making a woman feel ashamed for being sexual or having one or more sexual partners — is a tool that can be used to compel a woman to alter her behaviour for the better.
    Call a woman a slut and perhaps she’ll feel ashamed enough to change her behaviour — behaviour that society believes leaves her vulnerable to things like unplanned pregnancies, sexually transmitted diseases and sexual assault. It’s for her protection, right?
    Far from leaving her better off, slut-shaming can irreparably damage a woman’s self-perception. Being called a slut for exhibiting perfectly normal sexual behaviour can cause a woman to associate herself with the negative connotations intrinsic to that word: Dirty, easy and worthless. Maybe she’ll indulge these unfounded labels and take on multiple partners, or maybe she’ll shut herself down to all forms of sexual activity out of shame. She may become a target for others to take advantage of, feeling as though her right to consent is taken away by her reputation. Either way, it diminishes a woman’s ability to express her sexuality — and that’s not healthy.
    Slut-shaming has been used to make examples out of “bad” girls to their peers, sometimes ending with severe consequences. In 2009, a 13-year-old girl from in U.S. sexted a photo of her breasts to a boy she liked, which was intercepted and circulated around her school and a nearby high school. The girl was forced to endure endless taunting by her peers, routinely being called a “slut” and a “whore.”
   When school officials were informed of these events, their response wasn’t to talk to the girl about what had happened, or to discipline the offending classmates. They suspended her from school for a week, an action that sends the message to students that calling someone a slut for exhibiting “slutty behaviour” is okay — that, perhaps, slutty girls deserve to be punished by their peers.
   She hung herself less than a week after the suspension.
   Beyond damaging someone’s reputation and self-esteem on an individual level, slut-shaming shapes societal discourse on things like rape, abuse and sexual harassment. There is an inconspicuous but real conception in society and our legal systems that rape is more understandable under certain circumstances — circumstances that revolve around the identity of the victim.
   In 2007, a British man charged with the rape of a 10-year-old girl was given concurrent two-year and 18-month jail sentences, as opposed to life in prison. The judge felt he was faced with “a moral dilemma” in this “exceptional case” because the victim regularly wore make-up, strappy tops and jeans, making her appear at least 16 years old — as though somehow her provocative clothing trumped her right to consent — assuming a child is even capable of consent.
   Cases like the above aren’t isolated anomalies in our legal systems. Rape cases are thrown out on the basis of the victim’s appearance — how they dress, act and speak — while instances of sexual harassment in the workplace are overlooked because of the victim’s sexual history. Women are constantly written off by their peers as worthless, irrelevant and less capable at the simple utterance of that four-letter word.
   The word slut has become a catch-all phrase used to defame a woman — one that has lost its meaning in society, while simultaneously carrying dark implications with its use.
   Next time you want to call a woman a slut, think about what you actually mean to say. Does the fact that she’s open about her sexuality make her a slut, or is she just a liberal woman? Is the woman that fucked your boyfriend really a whore, or is your boyfriend simply a cheating asshole? Is that classmate wearing the low-cut top skanky, or is she just gutsy enough to wear something you could never pull off? It isn’t until we stop being so loose with our word choice that the problems associated with this powerful vocabulary will begin to dissipate.

why can't I wear pink while I slay the dragon?

My summer job has become a mashed-up schedule of babysitting gigs. One of these gigs is watching the incredibly precocious 3-year old of my old boss. This girl is awesome, quite possibly one of my favorite children EVER; she is also quite possibly more pop-cultured than I can ever hope to be. Anyways, today the two of us were watching The Princess Bride. If you haven't seen this movie, stop reading now and go watch it. Seriously. It's not only epic and amazing, but to have not seen this fantastic film is a crime of stupid-big proportions- a crime with proportions quite possibly larger than those created by the "Who's Harry Potter?" crime. ANYWAYS, she said at one point "I want to be rescued." in response to my explanation of why Wesley was following Vizzini, Inigo Montoya, Fizzik, and Buttercup. My immediate mental response was "Pssh, yeah kid, me too," and her little sentence kind of exploded my thought processes for the rest of the day. Every time I'd be thinking about something, her cute little face would dive bomb through the thought and I'd be back to pondering her not so cute little statement.

The way I see it, there exists a sort of spectrum of women and their roles:

I don't claim to be on either end (obviously). I can and (gasp) like to cook, I do laundry, I'm good with kids. I also call people out on "Women's Work" jokes, find sex jokes hi-larious, like comics, never tire of watching Fightclub  and Braveheart. I am comfortable just left of the middle. And I would still like a Morelli or Ranger to come along and sweep me off my feet. So what? This whole Knight in Shining Armor business is not necessarily a bad thing; it's just that bad things tend to arise from sitting around wearing pink and waiting for some boy to gallop by and slay the scary dragon. The biggest issue being the obvious inebriated state of anyone claiming to slay a frichen' dragon. Seriously though, I think it's a crying shame that any woman who obviously wants a strong man in her life is automatically labeled as being weak or- even worse- old fashioned. Ick. Of course there are some who live up to this stereotype; unfortunately, Buttercup doesn't really do anything at all in The Princess Bride except flounce around and whine and threaten to kill herself. But what's even more a crying shame is the other side of the spectrum; if a woman claims she's a feminist, the knee jerk reaction of most everyone is to start looking for a mustache. What type of sick hypocrisy is this? I love being able to vote and go to school and all that jazz, but there are definitely times when I wonder if they didn't have the right idea a couple hundred years ago; at least then they had a clearly defined system.And then there are the in-betweens, which as anyone who has studied population growth (with a bell-curve, of course) knows, is about 90% of the population. I don't really have much to say about us, mostly because there are just too many mixed signals and scenarios to choose from. BUT, from what I know about her parents, this little princess is doomed to be an in-between. I really hope she doesn't get hurt or disenchanted somewhere along the way of growing up.

a new discovery leads to more...

so i was sitting in starbucks working and listening to one of my liked mixes on the most amazing idea since pandora and it switched and suddenly i was listening to new friends, old habits and the most beautiful little blurb was written out to the side...

Cause I could see your heart. You held it out before you for everyone to see, and I worried that it would be bruised or torn. And more than anything in my life I wanted to keep it safe, to warm it with my own.

what i would give for a man to say this to me.

Sex-Ed vs. Abstinence-Only Education (an old essay)

Films such as Juno, which tells the story of a teenage pregnancy resulting from boredom, reveal an alarming fact: teenage pregnancy in the United States has risen to one of the country’s most rampant problems. This issue stems from many factors, but lack of instruction in contraception and disease prevention is by far one of the most prominent causes. The flawed practice of instructing students by using abstinence-until-marriage-only curricula without safe-sex instruction as well results in horribly unprepared and uneducated teenagers. I believe that due to the extremely inconclusive nature of abstinence-only education, the federal government should not rely only upon such programs; rather, the government should utilize the comprehensive sex education curricula so as to avoid leaving teenagers ignorant of the consequences of sexual activity.

Sex education, commonly referred to as sex-ed, instructs teens about all things concerning sex, from puberty to dating advice; the program often includes abstinence as part of the curriculum but not as the fundamental basis of the entire program. On the other hand, abstinence-only or abstinence-until-marriage curricula fervently refuse to discuss any means of birth control other than abstaining from sexual activity until marriage. These curricula neglect to teach students about proper condom usage or other such fundamental topics, leaving the students without vital information. As a result, a breeding ground for transmission of disease through unprotected sex and teenage pregnancy outside of marriage has erupted amongst the nation’s youth, the future generations of our country. An even more disturbing fact –abstinence-only instruction is only banned from curricula in sixteen states. This translates to roughly one third of the country, even in the best of circumstances. The government does not send two thirds of our army into battle unarmed and unprepared; why should they send two thirds of us, the future, up against such enemies as AIDS and HPV without sufficient knowledge?

In contrast, sex education follows the age-old adage, “Always be prepared!” The program does so by informing teenagers about pregnancy, puberty, contraceptive use, and sexually transmitted diseases. Sex-ed does not waste time preaching to deaf ears about the “rising incidence of STDs, emotional and psychological injuries, and out of wedlock childbearing” that result from sexual activity.  Instead, sex education programs take necessary time to educate students on a vast array of topics, such as the numerous contraceptives available and their proper usage. Sex education programs prepare students for sexual activities and the possible resulting consequences while the abstinence-only programs merely scare students into ignoring their insistent, hormone-riddled, bodies.  The abstinence-only programs rarely allow students to receive information concerning birth control or condoms and merely instruct teens to wait until marriage to become sexually active.

In tenth grade, I enrolled in the standard health class. In this class, I did not learn much about why I should not have sex or how to protect myself were I to decide to become sexually active; instead, I learned just enough about STDs and contraceptives to suit the curriculum’s scare tactics. Though I cannot speak for my peers, I know from my own experience that scare tactics do not work. They leave me fearful, which in turn makes my reasoning and logic sloppy and inconclusive. Thankfully, I am not cursed with parents embarrassed about “The Talk,” so I have had enough instruction about sex and contraception and pregnancy to make clear decisions. But I know many teenagers do not have a reliable source of information concerning the topic. I see the girls five, six, eight months into pregnancy in the hallways, walking towards their next classes. Surely everyone has at some point. They embody the epidemic of teenage pregnancy alongside the much larger population of teenagers suffering from STDs such as Chlamydia, Syphilis, Gonorrhea, or even AIDS. These diseases as well as teenage pregnancy embody the true enemies of today’s youth. Young people, in many cases, remain utterly vulnerable because they do not have the one true useful weapon: knowledge. Knowledge of the consequences of sex –all of the consequences –is the most valuable defense any teenager has against pregnancy or disease. In making sex an uncomfortable subject –one for behind closed doors only after marriage –and in teaching ideals that force teens to ignore insistent impulses, the government has left us defenseless and unprepared against disease and pregnancy. I believe that in refusing us this one little favor, the government has done today’s youth a great injustice.

A piece of writing that I absolutely love and wish I could lay claim to

The Writing Paradox: How Writing about Hurts Can Actually Heal

We were going to Hilton Head Island for vacation, and my mom said I had to have a bathing suit, even though I had refused to go swimming for years. When I tried on that bathing suit, something inside of me—something that was already fragile—snapped. I had never been comfortable with my body or myself, and as I entered my teenage years my self-consciousness heightened and my self esteem lowered. This is the night my journey into self hatred began to manifest itself in less subtle ways.

Before this night, much had happened in a short period of time, and I had no idea how to handle the emotions I felt: My friend Emile was sick and had furiously rejected my attempt to help her; my “adopted mom,” Michelle, had moved eight hours away; and I had begun to realize how dysfunctional my family was. I was devastated that Emile was angry with me and that she was hurting, I was lost without Michelle’s advice, and I was stripped of any illusion that my parents had a healthy relationship—or that I had a relationship at all with my dad.

After “the bathing suit incident,” Michelle encouraged me to write to her positive qualities about myself; it was over a thousand words of raw, fourteen year old angst and frustration about the fact that I couldn't seem to find any good qualities in myself. I emailed my venting to Michelle, who undoubtedly regretted having asked me to do this because I hadn’t written anything positive; and I felt better for having released all of those thoughts to someone other than myself. Without realizing it, Michelle had made me aware of this realm of ultimate diary-writing where I was able to empty all the toxic thoughts from my overstuffed brain—and do it quickly. While writing made me aware of the brokenness in my life and caused me a lot of pain, I realized I needed it. As Jamaica Kincaid wrote in My Brother, “I became a writer out of desperation” (qtd. in Zimmermann 13).

Beginning high school, my writing was oriented towards my struggles with anxiety, depression, and an eating disorder that had been building through the years; I was drowning in emotional stress and didn’t see any means of floating besides writing. I chose writing over sleeping, eating, and doing homework. Four years later, I’m still dealing with the struggles that became evident during my freshman year of high school, and I’m still writing. I write because I have to; if I didn't write, I would self-destruct—it’s simple as that. I continually learn through the act of putting my thoughts and experiences on paper that life is ugly and beautiful, that I am weak and strong—and that life is a bundle of paradoxes. I’m thankful I discovered writing when I did; I have a head start in dealing with my demons, and I’ve realized early on the place that writing has to have in my life in order for me to stay sane.

In A Long Way Gone, Ishmael Beah does exactly what I hope to do one day with my experiences: he creates an inspiring and emotionally charged memoir. Though Beah’s and my stories are almost as different as they can be (for example, I was never a child soldier in Sierra Leone), I saw myself over and over again in his descriptions of avoiding thinking as a coping mechanism. In Writing to Heal the Soul, Susan Zimmermann writes that she had “sidestepped [her] sorrow, not knowing how to move through it,” but that using writing to move through her pain had lead her into a place of healing (17). This was Ishmael Beah’s process. When he went to New York to meet other children facing similar situations as he had, Beah participated in long discussions about “solutions to the problems facing children in [their] various countries.” He says, “[it] seemed we were transforming our sufferings as we talked about ways to solve their causes and let them be known to the world” (Beah 148-149). That phrase, “transforming our sufferings,” seems to be an apt description of the effect writing our stories can have. Beah went through a major transformation from carefree, innocent child to murderous, robotic boy solider—and then to courageous, wise young man. I, too, have gone through a transformation: from carefree, innocent child, like Beah, to terrified and self-destructive teenager, to honest and determined young woman. In an interview with Jon Stewart on The Daily Show, Beah says that he wanted people to know through his book that “human beings are capable of true evil and equally capable of regaining [their] humanity.” He shares how he tried to write as he felt back then when he was twelve years old. Beah took himself back to the most traumatic experiences of his life, and described them in detail—and that is precisely why his memoir is so affective for his audience and for him. Beah had stumbled upon healing through writing. He recognizes that by writing, he “transformed [his] experiences into something positive.” He had shared with others what had happened to him—and to many other children across the world— in order to move on from those experiences into a new life, and also to make the world aware of what was going on in other countries to innocent children; Beah used his memoir to testify to the injustice committed against him, and so have I.

Shoshana Felman, in her book Testimony: Crises of Witnessing in Literature, Psychoanalysis and History, defines testifying as a “vow to tell, [a] promise [to] produce one’s own speech as material evidence for truth” (Felman and Laub 5). Using writing as testimony gives it a power that a simple diary entry doesn’t possess. The purpose of testimony is to deal in a public way with experiences in order to heal the person sharing as well as to teach the audience. In Writing as a Way of Healing: How Telling Our Stories Transforms Our Lives, Louise DeSalvo says:

Scores of other writers…write about what they have lived through—experiences that might not be commonly known—to heal themselves. But they also write to help heal a culture that, if it is to become moral, ethical, and spiritual, must recognize what these writers have observed, experienced, and witnessed. All are writing to right a human wrong—one that affected them, surely, but one that affects others, too. Writing testimony, to be sure, means that we tell our stories. But it also means that we no longer allow ourselves to be silenced or allow others to speak for our experience. (216)

Testifying to our experiences has a freeing effect on us as well as the people who hear the testimonies. Eyes and minds are opened as a result of the sharing, and the sharer feels more at peace with himself and his thoughts. DeSalvo believes that “[writing] to heal, then, and making that writing public…is the most important emotional, psychological, artistic, and political project of our time” (216). Therapists seem to agree with DeSalvo, because more and more frequently, they are encouraging their clients to tell their traumatic stories to several people, claiming that it would hasten the disappearance of symptoms like anxiety that are connected to their experiences (Felman and Laub 26). Every time I share my story with others, I feel less controlled by the self-deprecating thoughts that haunt me: I’m “diffusing [their] power over [me]” (DeSalvo 22).

Dr. James Pennebaker, in his book Opening Up: The Healing Power of Expressing Emotions, discusses at length the studies he performed on college students to prove that writing about traumatic experiences in a detailed and emotional way improves psychological and physical health. He found that students who wrote in this way consequently went to the on-campus clinic fifty percent fewer times than they did before the study. Pennebaker links this seeming increase in health to the decrease of inhibition that occurs when people write and/or talk about their experiences effectively. This inhibition Pennebaker writes about is when “people must consciously restrain, hold back, or in some exert effort to not think, feel, or behave,” (9) and this, according to Pennebaker’s studies, has deleterious effects on everyone who does it: inhibition is like stress in that it “gradually undermines the body’s defenses” (2).

Pennebaker discovered through his studies that people who didn’t talk about their “major life stressors” had “recurrent unwanted thoughts, higher levels of anxiety and depression, insomnia, and a variety of health problems” (25). In fact, not writing or talking about greatly traumatic experiences, or “not [translating] the event into language” is linked to “ruminations, dreams, and associated thought disturbances” as well as some psychological disorders like multiple personality disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder (9). Writing and talking about these events is crucial in the healing process because “the mind torments itself by thinking about unresolved and confusing issues.” Writing is a preventative tool against this torment because it “promotes self-understanding” (93).

Pennebaker believes that sharing rather than inhibiting traumas is a “natural human response” that “can influence our basic values, our daily thinking patterns, and feelings about ourselves” (27, 2). In writing or talking about traumas, people free their minds to think about other things and simultaneously begin to understand what happened to them from a different perspective. Pennebaker also found that writing about these events allows for an “organization to the event and a summarizing of it” (97).

Sharing our experiences after writing them is important; because not sharing them, “…keeping [them] locked away where no one can read [them,] repeats the lethal pattern of silencing and tyranny and shame that so often accompanies trauma” (DeSalvo 209). If writing is to be a truly freeing tool, it shouldn’t be kept only to ourselves. Sharing helps us to remember that we are not alone in our struggles and pains. I have met several people who have been through similar situations as I have because I shared my experiences with them. People who have experienced horrible things often feel alienated from the people who haven’t; and in sharing their experiences, they enable others to understand what has happened, which eliminates the feeling of aloneness and may simultaneously provide the motivation someone else needs to share his story.

The Ethiopian perspective of illness is quite different from the American perspective of illness. DeSalvo focuses on how the people of Ethiopia see illnesses as opportunities for an “internal spiritual and healing journey” (181). John L. Coulehan says, “Illness and disability… entail our sustaining gigantic losses: of meaning, of wholeness, or certainty, of relationships, of freedom, of control” (qtd. in DeSalvo 181). This, of course, is true both for Ethiopian and American people; but the Ethiopians use their illnesses as a tool to learn instead of as a curse or as a nuisance slowing them down. Instead of their illness setting them apart from healthy people, it becomes a bond that brings sick and healthy people together. In The Wounded Storyteller, Arthur W. Frank writes that the “ill, and all those who suffer, can also be healers. Their injuries become the source of the potency of their stories” (xii).

It may be tempting to think that just writing at all will be a helpful experience, but Pennebaker’s studies demonstrate that only writing in a way that describes in detail an experience as well as the writer’s emotions towards that event is healing. Writing about “superficial” things such as the color of one’s shoes is not helpful in any way, and writing only about emotions towards events or only about the events themselves may actually be harmful because it leaves the writer in a mental place to focus on the event instead of work through it (37). DeSalvo says, “… only writing that describes traumatic events and our deepest thoughts and feelings about them, past and present, is linked with improved immune function, improved emotional and physical health, and behavioral changes indicating that we feel able to act on our own behalf” (25).

I’m not sure that I would be in college—or, at least not in college and doing well—if I had not discovered writing four years ago. I would not be able to understand why I struggle with the things I do or how to begin healing from them if I hadn’t poured myself on paper and began to see my challenges in a less insurmountable way. Through writing I have learned that I am a person worthy of love from others and myself, that I am capable of overcoming my struggles, and that I am strong.