I Might Be Shallow

2010-08-09T18:59:00.002-05:00

I'm always amazed by people who have daily blogs, because that means they have something of significance to say every single day. Even if it's not something crazy or shocking, they still have a compelling story to tell. I've gone through my day and come up with nothing that's really blog-worthy.

I could write about how I made it to work on time by forgoing a shower, using the reasoning that I showered yesterday and didn't do anything even close to strenuous. Or about how amused I was when I saw (repeatedly) online that someone threw a water bottle at Justin Bieber's head. Or about how frustrating the ice cream aisle is at the grocery store. (Why is it that I can find no sugar added and s'mores, but not together?) But seriously, none of those things are really attention grabbing, are they?

I read earlier about a female soldier in Afghanistan who was shot at for the first time over the weekend. Despite being terrified, it's made her decide to re-enlist, because she was with a group of children at the time, and that means an insurgent was shooting towards the kids, too.

Then there was a mommy blog (yes, I'm a non-mom and I read mommy blogs) about some of the things single moms have to do to make it through the day. Things some people would say aren't safe, but are necessary when you're going it alone.

Suddenly, my mundane life is sounding pretty fabulous. I should enjoy the peacefulness of it, because someday, kids will enter the picture, or tragedy will strike. In the meantime, boring puppy cuddles and watching TV with my boyfriend, while not blog-worthy, will do just fine.

Why I'll hyphenate.

2010-07-28T00:38:00.003-05:00

I just watched Christina Applegate on Jimmy Kimmel Live. I don't have much interest in Christina, the movie she was promoting (3D kiddie flick), or Jimmy. But I was hoping I could get a story out of it, and I did. (I can make anywhere from $1 to $60 on one celebrity fluff story. I'll watch a little Jimmy Kimmel for the possibility of making $60.)

Christina is pregnant with her first child, and Jimmy asked what she'd be doing with the baby's last name. Would she give the kid her name, hyphenate, etc.?

The look on her face when he asked that question was absolutely priceless. It reminded me of the look on Foster's face when Gretchen, our Boxer, passes gas ... pure disgust. Christina said "no", then stuttered a bit, before finally getting out that she doesn't believe in "that". Ok, fair enough. Everyone has the right to their beliefs, even if their beliefs are antiquated and misogynistic.

The last name conundrum was always a huge source of contention between my ex and I. We would get in heated arguments when I told him that I didn't plan on ever taking a man's last name. Because I, believing myself to be as important and significant as the man in my life, don't plan on changing my last name just because I've become legally bound to another person. And don't think it doesn't irk me from time to time that my last name comes only from my father, because it does. But, it's the name I was given and what I've known for all my 29 years, so I'm keeping it. (Unless I decide to change it to something badass like Von D or something.)

When I have kids, I want them to take on a part of me in their name. I love the idea of my child, my little mini-me, being a hyphenate. Their name will refer to not just their father, but their mother, too. Is a little recognition too much to ask?

Yes, this will lead to a few pain in the ass situations later in their life. What happens when my kid gets married, or has a kid of their own? They'll have some decisions to make. And I'm okay with that. But they'll grow up knowing they have two last names because they have two parents who are equals.

Marketing

2010-06-09T13:40:00.002-05:00

I suck at marketing myself. My blog, my articles, etc. You'd think I'd be good at it, since what I officially do at work is called "branding". I can build a recognizable brand. I just can't get the word out about it. It's definitely something I need to work on.

That said, here are links to my Facebook and Twitter page. I have no idea how many people nose around here on my little blog. If you do, let me know. I'm curious. Very.

And if you've got any great marketing ideas (that don't involve Digg.com), leave 'em in the comments.

My Twitter

Find me on Facebook

The Big Apple

2010-05-28T20:07:00.003-05:00

That's me on the Brooklyn Bridge. Although you can't see my entire face, you can tell that I'm smiling. I was the happiest girl in the world that day, even though it was hot, my jeans were chafing, my feet had blisters, and my back hurt. I didn't care. I was in New York. I was on the Brooklyn Bridge! Everything was right in the world.

A friend said to me once that when you're in New York, it just feels right. That's the only way I can describe it. It felt like home. The week my boyfriend and I spent there was amazing. As much as I missed my own bed and my dogs, I cried when the plane took off from La Guardia. I felt like I was leaving home instead of going to it.

I'm not sure when my long distance love affair with the city began. It's been there for as long as I can remember... a longing for a place I had never been. When I was in 5th grade, one of my teachers had us start researching colleges. This was before the internet was everywhere, so if you wanted information, you had to write a letter. The first school I wrote to was New York University. For years and years they sent me info. Because I was all of 11-year-old, I had no concept of money. I remember taking one of the pamphlets to my parents and saying, "But it only costs $30,000 a year!" My dad gave me what my family has coined as "the idiot look". I was brushed off and sent back to my room, gripping the pamphlet with my wishful little hands.

I went through tons of phases in school about what I wanted to be when I grew up. An actress! A doctor! An MTV VJ! All of them resulted in me living in New York. It's always been the dream.

Cue me going to a mid-sized, conservative state university in Texas and ending up in a 7+ year long relationship that was destined to fail. New York was obviously nowhere in sight. But even after college I would tell people that one day I would live in New York City, as if (hello!) there was any other goal. Laughter has ensued more than once after making the announcement.

Years later, I'm still in Texas. In the city whose suburbs I lived as a kid. With a boyfriend, a house (rental!), 2 dogs, 2 cats, debt out the ass, and a sinking feeling that my NY dreams will never come true.

When I confessed that to my boyfriend recently, he questioned me. "Why? Why would you think it's never going to happen?" Honestly? I'm terrified. Of failure. Of having to slink home to a quiet (fine, from my family it probably wouldn't be so quiet) chorus of "told ya so". I'm afraid of the guilt that would haunt me from asking my boyfriend, who is perfectly content where we are, to give up the life he's built for himself and move thousands of miles away, just so I could fulfill some silly childhood dream.

Then my boyfriend said something to me that I didn't expect at all.

"You know, I'm envious of you."

"What are you talking about?"

"That you have this huge dream, this big goal. Something that you've always wanted to do and you aren't giving up on. I don't have anything like that."

Well, I suppose that's one way of looking at it. I do still have big dreams of living in New York. I remember the feeling of stepping out of the subway in Manhattan for the first time and wondering what the hell took me so long to get there? (I was 28 before I finally made a visit.) I can't help but feel the chances of the dream coming to fruition fade as I get older. But I'm still not letting go quite yet... I still want to call New York home one day.

Tick, tock...

2010-05-24T19:39:00.004-05:00

Where does my day go? I'd swear that I'm awake for 17 or 18 hours of the day, and I get next to nothing done with it.

8:00 AM - Alarm clock starts going off. Hit snooze. Repeatedly.

9:20 AM - Realize that I have no choice but to get my ass out of bed. Shower (maybe), put on clean clothes, take the dogs out, make sure the remote controls and anything else I think is valuable is out of their reach.

10:00 AM - Get to work and run to the deli to grab a bagel.

10:15 AM - Start on the first project of the day, editing down a morning show.

11:00 AM - Finish editing the morning show. The process might be faster had I not been checking e-mail (work and personal), checking Jezebel.com, checking various sites I write for, etc., between editing segments. Start working on voicetracking project.

11:20 AM - Refocus on voicetracking project. It's easy to get distracted when browsing gossip sites is necessary for the show prep process.

11:45 AM - Finish work projects and focus on the important stuff: the internet.

12:15 AM - Realize I'm hungry. Grunt about how early it is. Back to the 'net, but with a purpose. I have to find stories to write about, music clips to post on my station blog, etc.

1:00 PM - E-mail a few people to inquire about going to lunch. No one is available. Decide to hit up McDonald's or Taco Cabana. Get food, bring it back to work and eat while watching TV or reading.

2:30 PM - Back to the studio. Write copy, send someone songs, or do some other random little something.

3:00 PM - Someone on the internet is wrong. Must correct them.

3:30 PM - Contemplate working on voicetracking for tomorrow. Decide against it. Go through work e-mail. Then more internet.

5:00 PM - Voicetrack. It must be done.

5:30 PM - One last pass through Jezebel and Facebook before leaving.

6:15 PM - Hit up grocery store for soda.

6:30 PM - Home! Take dogs out. Pick up poop.

7:00 PM - Turn on TV to see if there's anything waiting for me on the DVR that isn't boyfriend friendly. As much as I try, he refuses to watch Vampire Diaries or Grey's Anatomy.

8:00 PM - Feed dogs, feed self.

12:00 PM - Bed. But not to sleep. There's usually at least an hour of reading some delish book about vampires or some other supernatural being before turning off the lights.

So on and so forth... the whole thing just seems to keep going. It's an endless cycle of me checking Facebook, checking Jezebel, reading some book (I read about a book a week, so clearly there's reading time in there somewhere), watching TV, etc.

But I feel like I get nothing done. There's nothing to show for it. Unless a few Facebook updates or comments on Jezebel count.

This is definitely something I should work on...

Sometimes you feel like a nut...

2010-05-23T21:28:00.003-05:00

I wrote this little opinion sort of thing about what it means to be Jewish. I've always said that as a convert, I feel like a fake. I'm waiting for the day when I'm turned down at the synagogue doors in front of all of the born Jews. They'll point and laugh and call me a silly shiksa. It's truly the stuff of nightmares.

I'm not going to post my piece here... because it's published somewhere that I'll be get paid for the page views. So if you'd like, and I hope you would like, you can read it over at Associated Content.

I tried to make him watch Twilight...

2010-05-17T21:12:00.002-05:00

My poor boyfriend, the Star Wars obsessed one, nearly jumped out of my car the other night because of Twilight.

After a long day of work (for him) and napping (for me), I dragged him to one of the inner layers of hell, otherwise known as suburbia. I had a work engagement at a bar late that night, and my usual security blanket (the promotions crew) wasn't going to be there to hold my hand. So I begged and made promises of free beer, and he agreed.

On a side note, living in a city that has banned most indoor smoking, I had forgotten what it was like to leave a bar smelling like a stale pack of Camels and having that lovely, thick cigarette muck coating my airway for a good 24 hours. Thankfully I've now been reminded why I've never taken up smoking. Score 1 for the suburbs.

We made the uneventful drive past numerous malls, restaurants, and a good dozen or so sexually oriented businesses (not much to do in the suburbs, eh?) and braced ourselves for two hours of anxiety (for me) and beers (for him).

It turned out that my presence there was completely unnecessary. I was meant to be filling in for a co-worker, and the weekly event turned out to be a well-tuned machine. So he and I primarily hung out in the bar area, sipping our drinks, chatting with a few people we knew, and occasionally handing out t-shirts and koozies.

So, two hours, and we're out. Two hours, four beers and two cocktails, and we're headed home. That's when I decided I was hungry, and we both knew that we should have slowed down long enough to use the restrooms back in the suburbs. The misery!

We ended up in the longest and slowest drive-thru line imaginable, delaying any chance to use the restroom. At this point, no taquitos really could have been worth it, no matter how cheesy. But since we were in the line, we stayed. And stayed, and stayed.

I was getting irritable, as needing to use the restroom while not having access to a restroom can tend to make a person. I had flipped through most of the slow music on my iPod (because that will ease the pain of a full bladder?) and played a bit of solitaire. Then I had an epiphany... I could get lost in a world where vampires sparkle!

Meaning, I have Twilight on my iPod and watching a bit of it might take my mind off my mounting irritability and my bladder. The second I turned it on, sound coming through the car speakers, he looked at me as if I had just told him there was no Luke Skywalker. Seriously, deer in headlights doesn't even cover it.

He reached for the door handle, as if he was really going to bail. The man was sitting with his knees held together so tightly I thought they were going to bruise, refusing to walk into the fast food joint to use the restroom out of sheer laziness, yet the very sound of Edward Cullen's voice had him ready to say "Screw it!" and walk the two miles home.

I have no idea how he's going to survive a midnight screening of Eclipse. No idea...

Yum.

2010-05-08T10:22:00.002-05:00

There's a total disconnect between my head and my stomach. You see, my stomach? It wants the good stuff. I went to the grocery store last night and came home with a box of Cap'n Crunch, a small bag of sour cream and onion Ruffles, a pint of cookies and cream ice cream, and a bottle of wine. See? The good stuff.

Not healthy, not full of vitamins, not good for me in any way. The wine wasn't even heart-healthy red.

My head is very aware of the many benefits of eating healthy. And of being healthy in general. But carrot sticks and hummus just isn't as good as sour cream and onion Ruffles, no matter what anyone says.

Will someone please come clean my house?

2010-03-24T16:18:00.004-05:00

I'm not good at cleaning. I never have been. My idea of "cleaning" is more like "rearranging". Let's take this pile of crap and move it over here for a while. Voila! Clean!

The one and only cleaning activity I do faithfully every week is sweeping my house from top to bottom. And if I didn't live in a 1200 sq. ft. home with 4 pets and all hardwood floors? That wouldn't happen, either.

I really either need to beg, bribe, or pay someone to come clean my house though. It's getting ridiculous. I was getting ready for work this morning and bent down to get my shoe when I noticed the piles and piles of hair that have accumulated under the bed. (Enough that I could make a voodoo hair doll if I wanted.) When I was getting out of the shower, I first noticed that the little ledge of the stand up shower is getting icky. And then I saw that the bathroom door has dust on it. My door. Is dusty. Did you know doors needed to be dusted? I didn't.

It's not like I have some deep seeded desire to live in filth. I really don't. I constantly chastise my boyfriend for not keeping his "man cave" clean enough. The rest of the house is pristine in comparison. But still, my place is a mess.

I need a maid.

Seven cavities?

2010-03-03T16:33:00.003-06:00

I'm all about the numbers lately. I bitched about losing 2 pounds, now I'm bitching about having 7 cavities. That's right. SEVEN. Technically, 3 of them are between teeth, so they should only count as 3. But if you want to count by teeth (which is how the dentist is charging me), it's 7.

When the dentist told me to stay away from full sugar soda and hard candy, it was hard to not laugh. I don't touch regular sodas, and haven't since high school. For those not keeping track, that was over 10 years ago. And hard candy? Meh. I'm a chocolate kind of girl. (I may or may not have indulged in a Diet Coke and Caramelo after the dentist.)

Seven freakin' cavities. Two freakin' pounds. Good lord, 2010, you aren't making the best impression so far.

Can someone hand me a cookie?

2010-02-23T15:55:00.002-06:00

I was somehow talked into doing this "Biggest Loser" kind of challenge at work. We all throw in $25, and whoever loses the most weight by the end of the challenge (a little over 2 months) gets to keep the loot. I'm a sucker for money, so I said what the hell.

What the hell, indeed! I haven't been a saint when it comes to eating, but I've totally changed my ways. I'm not longer a regular drive-thru customer (I miss you, McDonald's #2), and I stay away from the candy machine at work. I haven't been writing down all of my calories, but I'm very conscious of what I eat and how healthy it is.

And the gym! I've been going to the gym! Like, on a regular basis. Three to four times a week, taking a nice mix of cardio/weight classes, with the occasional pilates and yoga thrown in.

And do you know what I've lost? About 2 pounds. After 5 weeks. TWO POUNDS. I'm ready to start stealing candy from babies to eat while I lounge on the couch watching trashy reality TV. Two pounds. Are you freakin' kidding me?

I know that I'm fighting my own DNA. This body (mine, over here) was not designed to be a size 2. Not a size 2 from 1950, not a size 2 from today. I'm thick and curvy and stout and lift heavier weights than a girl my size should be able to lift. But dammit, I wanna be skinny. (Yeah, that was meant to sound whiney.)

I want to walk into a store and grab the nearest size 2 and have it slip on smooth like buttah. Without hearing any seems rip or buttons pop. I want to be svelte. And truly petite.

I also want to be able to eat Ben & Jerry's, or to have a shake at lunch, along with my actual food. Alas, that's not meant to happen. And it makes me bitter. So damn bitter. I find myself glaring at skinny girls who eat food that's got more calories than mine. "How dare she have a full sugar soda?! That skinny bitch!" Yes, it's a great attitude, I know.

No one ever said life was going to be fair, but seriously, this is just cruel. I want a cookie like nobody's business. Instead, I'm going to finish my Coke Zero, have my 90 calorie South Beach Bar snack, and go workout. Where I'll get red-faced and sweaty and out of breath, trying to beat the chubby gene. Good luck to me on that one.

Turning 29

2010-02-02T15:02:00.003-06:00

I'm 29 today. I can no longer kid myself that I'm deeply entrenched in my 20s, because at this point, I'm so close to 30 I can smell it. And ya know what? It smells like mothballs.

Fine, I'm being dramatic. But turning 29 hasn't been full of joy. If anything, I feel like I'm already mourning my 20's and the lost opportunities. (Yes, more dramatics.) And sadly, I don't even know why.

Could be because when you're young, 29 sounds SO OLD. So far away. People who are 29 go to bed early and never eat ice cream or cereal for dinner, because they've got their middle-management job and 2.5 kids to think about. In reality, I still stay up too late every single night. Even though I'm trying to be healthier and shed a few pounds, it's not uncommon for me to have something ridiculous like ice cream (Sugar free! Low fat!) for dinner. And I'm still at the bottom of the totem pole at work, in a manner of speaking. I worked my ass off to get here, and it's a dream come true, but I still have so much farther to go. And the kids! Ha! I've got 2 dogs, 2 cats, and a Beta fish. Oh, and a boyfriend. Can't forget about him. ;)

Worse even still? I don't *really* want kids yet. Yes, I've got the baby fever. But when I start to think about what having kids means and what you have to give up (hi, everything?), I know I'm just not ready to be that unselfish. And aren't 29-year-olds supposed to be unselfish? And aren't they supposed to have a mortgage?

I'm still longingly eying pictures of New York City, wondering when and how I'll manage to move there, what kind of job I can find, how I can support myself. I feel like I've got so many goals and aspirations, and I had planned to take care of so many of those things while I was in my 20's. Granted, I did scratch quite a bit off my list. Degree? Check. Live in the city? Check. Buy own car? Check. See, it wasn't a total loss.

It just went by so fast. Some of the times I had were shittastic, so that might have been for the best, though. Here's hoping 29 turns out to be the superior year of my decade.

Me vs. The World

2010-01-13T21:35:00.002-06:00

I've had one of those days! The kind where you wake up feeling like, OK, I can do this. And at some point, your day tells you that your shoe is untied and taps you under the chin, then giggles. Next thing you know, you're getting backhanded across the face. Before it's all said and done, you're laying on the floor tapping three times, hoping to make it all stop.

On the up side, at least it didn't try to bite my ear off, a la Mike Tyson.

To Do in 2010

2010-01-01T21:49:00.001-06:00

I've got a short list of things I want to do in 2010. Not resolutions, just things to do. I don't know if naming them something other than resolutions will make a difference, but I'm hoping it will, because something like 80+% of all resolutions fail. By February. That's just sad.

1. Get a passport. I've been out of the country, to Canada, Mexico, and the Bahamas. At the time, no passport was required. I want to eventually travel to Europe, and having a passport would be a good first step.

2. (This one was all Foster's idea.) Find a book on how to worry less/have less anxiety. Or just take more Xanax.

3. Read more adult books. (No, not that kind.) (Well, maybe ... ) Seriously though, I tend to read a ton of YA books because I like the covers. I'm going to try to delve more into books that are about people who are no longer in high school and who no longer have a curfew. I'm sure it can be done.

4. I'm not officially putting "lose weight" on the list, because I don't want any failure to be, like, an official failure. If I never said I was going to try to lose weight, then it won't matter if it doesn't happen, right? Right. So I'll just say that in 2010, I plan to work on cutting sugar (my blessed sugar) out of my diet once again. Perhaps I'll throw in more vegetables. Or even work out more. (I could very well be the only person alive who joined a gym and proceeded to gain 20 pounds. And no, it's not muscle.)

5. I'd like to be more like Julia Sugarbaker. More outspoken and less passive. (See clip below.)

"And that, Marjorie, is the night the lights went out in Georgia!" I love it.

The Christ in Christmas

2009-12-02T08:58:00.006-06:00

I got one of those chain e-mails saying that "we" have to take back Christmas! Because all of this "Happy Holidays" business is breaking little 8 pound 6 oz. baby Jesus! Seriously, the e-mail urged it's recipients to send Christmas cards to the ACLU (the people who deliver doom and destruction) in order to backlog their mail room. I'm still not sure what the actual logic was there, but hey, I'm all for wishing the ACLU Happy Holidays. Er, Merry Christmas, I mean.

Dear people who are angry that they are sometimes told to have Happy Holidays when they check out at the local Wal-Mart ... it's not that us non-Christians are trying to keep you down. (Yes, I know that as a majority, it's hard for you.) Instead, you were probably wished Happy Holidays because there's a chance that Christmas isn't the holiday you celebrate. Unless you're wearing a red sweater with Rudolph on it accompanied by a Merry Christmas! broach, it's hard to tell. You could celebrate Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or nothing at all. It's a broad way of saying, "Hey, whatever your winter thing, I hope it's a good one." It's not a disrespect to you or Jesus. It's an attempt to be inclusive.

If you don't like it, try giving the neon sign above your head that reads "Christian" a wack, because maybe we can't see it.

Honestly...

2009-11-05T00:23:00.006-06:00

I went to sleep last night after checking up on the election coverage. My main interest? Maine's Prop 1. Maine, a place I've never been and never really felt the need to visit. I imagine it being full of tall trees, fisherman, and small towns. In all of the reading I did yesterday, I learned that it's also the home of one of the largest populations of LGBT individuals per capita on the East Coast. So ... teh gayz? They haz em. Which is partially why it blows my mind that Prop 1 passed, striking down a law that gave same-sex couples the right to marry, just like opposite-sex couples (thank you, Carrie Prejean for that ridiculous phrase) can.

This is one of the ads that was run asking people to vote "Yes on 1".

Ah, the fear factor. They'll teach it to the kids! THE KIDS!

Truth? According the to Maine Attorney General, that wouldn't happen. (Read THIS article if you don't believe me.) I don't recall the class in school where the teacher sat us down and taught us all about marriage and divorce and adultery and everything that goes with it. Who knows, maybe I slept through that bit. But even if kids were taught about gay marriage, well, I don't quite see the problem. No one is going to tell your son or daughter that they HAVE to marry someone of the same sex. I mean, that is the concern, right? That little Johnny or Susie will grow up to be gay? I have my doubts about them "learning" to be gay in school.

And then, we've got my favorite argument ... the Bible. Ah, the Bible. Here are some of the favorites of the homophobic, er, I mean ... same-sex marriage proponents:

Leviticus 18:22 - Thou shalt not lie with a man as one lies with a female. It is an abomination.

Leviticus 20:13 - "If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They must be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads."

Those are the quotes that so many Christians use from The Torah. I would write out all of the quotes that Christians believe are no longer valid from The Torah, but I don't think Blogspot allows posts that long.

There's also a verse from (ta-da!) Christian Bible.

1 Corinthians 6:9-10 - "Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor male prostitutes nor homosexual offenders nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God."

Drunkards and slanderers, eh? Shouldn't there be more people out there protesting to bring back prohibition? I mean, it's tainting the moral fibers of our country!

Ok, fine, I'll hand it to them. The Bible, take your pick, does make mention of homosexuality. But, there are also these gems, all from the Christian Bible:

John 13:34 - (Jesus) A new commandment that I give unto you. That you love one another.

John 8:7 - (Jesus) He who is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone.

Matthew 5:7 - (Jesus) Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.

Matthew 5:10 - (Jesus) Blessed are those who have been persecuted for righteousness sake. For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

(Thanks to the writers of Grey's Anatomy for that.)

So, for those who are faithful believers in the Bible, whichever one they choose, there are options. Spelled out right there. They can be all judgey like Paul suggests in Corinthians, or, they can do as their Lord and Savior suggests and not judge others. Not cast the first stone. You know, basically, not be an ass. Not deny legal rights to people because you decided to go ahead and cast that stone, even though Jesus himself (as you believe, faithful Bible believer) told you NOT to do that. Like I tried to explain to someone tonight ... there are people who think that eating shellfish is wrong. Because it's in The Bible. (Yeah, it's in there. Also, stay away from pork and don't mix your meat and milk. And don't you dare touch a woman while she's on her period!) But if those people walk by and see someone eating crab? Or lobster? I seriously doubt they're going to walk by and start shouting Bible verses at you and telling you that you're going to hell. In fact, there weren't even any votes happening on it this year! That travesty, that no one is standing up to preserve the sanctity of the Kosher food rules. Seriously.

My opinion? People are just judgey. The same way that people didn't want integration in the 1960's. The same way men didn't want women to have the right to vote. The same way white people didn't want black people to be free. The same way the Europeans thought the Native Americans were savage. The same way the British wanted the Puritans the hell out of their country. See what I'm getting at here?

The worst part is that people hide behind the Bible and use it as their excuse for homophobia and hatred. Even though the argument doesn't hold water. Because if you want to take everything the Bible says and make it law, then women will have to throw out their pants. Any man missing a testicle won't be allowed into a church/mosque/synagogue. Children who misbehave will be stoned. Rape victims will have to marry their rapists. And my personal favorite, anyone who works on the Sabbath will be put to death. So don't even think of flipping on that light switch, sir, because it's after sundown on Friday evening.

My request to people who are anti-gay marriage? Man (or woman) up. Just say it. "I'm a homophobe!" I'll still think that you're ignorant and disrespectful, but I'll have more respect for you that people who filter their fear of the unknown through the Bible.

What Was I Born To Do?

2009-10-05T19:48:00.002-05:00

I think that my quarter-life crisis has (thankfully) come and gone. At 28, I feel secure in the decisions I've made for my life. But that doesn't mean I don't sometimes get a bit wishful about the things I could have or should have done.

I was watching one of those wedding shows last week. The ones where, of course, a well-off couple is planning a lavish to-do. Because, let's be honest, it's just not that much fun to watch a lower or middle class couple plan something on a shoestring budget. The planner enters a fabulous building in Manhattan to meet with the bride. Turns out, this is where the bride works. In an office bigger than the first floor of my house, with a fabulous view of the park. The bride can't be more than five years older than me, if that. She's rich and seemingly successful. What exactly does she do? It seems to be something creative. Whatever it is, every now and then I fancy myself with that level of success and wealth.

I could have been a writer. If discipline is something you could purchase and it had been something I could afford, I could have done it. That seems to be the thing that stands in my way. I imagine myself getting up at the crack of dawn (I'm a morning person in this fantasy) and opening my laptop at my dining room table while a fresh pot of coffee brews. (I also imaging living in a climate cool enough to allow for year round coffee drinking.) I could see myself having moderate success as a writer. A novelist? A blogger for one of my favorite liberal feminist sites? It could have been.

Sometimes, I wish I could have been a dancer. I was decent when I was younger and taking dance classes. Ballet was a favorite of mine, and if I could go back to being a child, I would likely demand a more strenuous ballet class. Year round. Maybe today I'd be living in a tiny closet of an apartment somewhere in New York, auditioning and making a livable but meager living dancing. Soon, I would plan to teach dancing full-time. After all, 28 is ancient in that world.

And in the most far-fetched of my fantasies, I imagine myself as a doctor. After all, there was that one week my freshman year of college when I considered going pre-med. Then I remembered how much I hated biology class when I was in high school, so I moved on. But still ... having the title "Doctor" before my name? Would be so very bad ass.

Book, Book, and More Books

2009-09-06T18:31:00.003-05:00

I'm having a lazy Sunday, in part because I've had a few nights of horrible sleep and I'm exhausted. This afternoon, I gathered up a stack of books that were taking up space under the bed, in my car, etc., and I went to Half-Price Books. Actually, most of the books I was taking to sell had been purchased there. We're talking fantastic titles like Ivy League Stripper and Pledged: The Secret Life of Sororities. (These are what I'd like to call "impulse buys".) I took the price tags off of a few of the books. One had been $7.98, another was $6.95. And since I had about 10 books, I was thinking Sweet, I can get a few new books for the plane. (I'm going on vacation soon, and long flights require good reads.)

I've never sold any books to a bookstore, unless the college experience counts. You know, where you buy a book for $250, use it for one semester, and then attempt to sell it back only to hear that a new edition just came out and that they'll give you a whole $2.50 for it. Awesome.

I digress. . .

So I walk into the bookstore, stack of books in hand, and go up to the buy-back counter. There was an employee standing there, with his back to me. Typically, the employees are behind the counter. But whatever. I finally put the books on the floor, as holding them was less than thrilling. As soon as I did that, he turned to me and mumbled something. Quite honestly, I wasn't even positive that he was speaking to me. I did the "huh?" head tilt, and said, "Excuse me?" He said, only a little more clearly, "Driver's license." I was thinking to myself, why yes, the State of Texas has bestowed one of those upon me, thanks for inquiring. Seriously, the guy was FULL OF JOY. He told me to stay in the store, and that was that. I looked at the stack of books on the floor and went, "Um. Okay?"

Here's the thing. . . If you're going to work in customer service, throw on a smile every now and then. Enunciate. You can do it! Maybe you're having a craptastic day. That's alright, we all have those. You could still pretend that you don't hate me. It might hurt for a second, but I promise the sting will fade.

By the way, for those 10 books, I got a whopping $5.00. I kid you not. Half-Price Books is making a killing. And if you're wondering what I got for my trip-to-NYC-plane-ride, that would be City of Ashes by Cassandra Clare.

USA Today Wants To Know If College Is Worth It

2009-08-31T18:06:00.002-05:00

USA Today has posed the question, “Is college worth it?” Do you get any sort of bang for your buck? The reality is that we’re in the middle of a recession making jobs harder to come by (good paying jobs seem like a myth at this point), and college costs are higher than ever. (Seriously, $200 for a book? Who are those publishers kidding?) I think it depends on what your goal is. What are you looking to gain from the experience?

I always knew that I would go to college. I started sending information requests to schools when I was in the 5th grade. I don’t think I had mastered the cursive letter “q” at that point, but I knew what my dream schools were: New York University, Harvard, and The University of Texas, otherwise known as Too Expensive, Way Too Expensive, and Just Out of Reach.

In the end, I enrolled at the economical Stephen F. Austin State University. Two hours from home, in the oldest (and what I swore was the smallest) town in Texas. When I graduated four years later with my Bachelor of Arts degree in Communication, I owed just over $18,000 in student loans. That’s just a tiny bit below the average of $23,000, so I suppose I did get a bargain. For that low, low cost, I had two initials after my name (which were VERY important to me), a piece of paper declaring my competence to the world, and 4 years of life experience that I wouldn’t have gotten any other way.

While I was in college, I learned that they aren’t kidding when they say “violators will be towed”. I learned that some professors, like regular people, are cantankerous asses who can’t be swayed towards kindness. I also learned that some people, including some professors, are truly kind and want nothing more than to help you become the best person you can be. I learned that there will always be one person who you absolutely can’t stand, and that you’ve always got the option to not deal with that person.

I also learned about philosophy, astronomy, Greek mythology, world history, and how to white balance a camera (which has never been needed in my real life). I remember some of the Spanish that I learned, and most of the grammar rules that cantankerous professor I had for journalism taught us. But the most important things I learned didn’t happen in the classroom, per se. I learned that life has consequences, and that when you don’t get your work done on time, there are repercussions. When you don’t pay attention, you miss out on important things. I learned how to be an adult. That’s what college taught me.

Was it worth all of the money spent? The late nights studying and the times when I worked multiple jobs to pay for it? The stress of trying to get good grades and make friends when I was a broke liberal on a campus full of well-to-do conservative Christians?

Yeah, it was. I always say that I wish I had a different experience. I would have loved to have gotten to go to my dream school of NYU. To study at Tisch, surrounded by like-minded people and creativity and city lights. I would have loved that. But I can’t say that the experience that I got wasn’t worth it. Going to college isn’t about leaving and collecting a fat paycheck (not that it wouldn’t be a nice perk). It’s about becoming who you’re meant to be, learning about more than the world you already know. And it was worth every penny.

Little Circles

2009-08-29T22:31:00.000-05:00

By 1p.m. today, I had finished reading a book, stopped at the library to find another, taken a pilates class, and made a stop at the grocery store (where I managed to purchase diet soda and three types of ice cream ONLY). That's a productive Saturday morning. I usually don't get up before noon.

Being at the gym on a weekend is a new one for me. I think of working out as a chore. It's something to be relegated to weekdays, along with working, cleaning, and other unsavory tasks. Weekends are for lounging, napping, and doing as little as possible. Twisting myself into a pretzel (AND HOLD. Does it hurt yet? Yes? Good, KEEP HOLDING!) usually isn't on my list of relaxing activities. But since I was up and couldn't fall back asleep (and dammit, I tried), off to pilates I went.

Within the first minute of the warm-up, I got a cramp in my leg. And we're not talking a little, mild ache. We're talking HOLY SHIT MY HAMSTRING IS REVOLTING. But I'm in a full pilates class. I can't be the one who punks out during the warm-up. I'm lame... but not THAT lame. So I keep going. For the most part, it was a pretty laid back class. The instructor, who looked like she could be a soap star (no offense), was a big fan of resting between exercises. And what do you know? So am I! See? Things were going great.

Until she told us she we were going to draw little circles. My first thought was Um, is this art class? Then she told us to stick both of our legs up in the air. Nope, not art class. So there I am, laying on my back, both legs up in the air, drawing little (imaginary) circles with my toes, then my heels, back to the toes, and again with the heels and HEY LADY DID YOU FORGET ABOUT US? MY ABS CAN'T TAKE THESE CIRCLES ANYMORE! Sheesh. You'd think drawing little circles with your feet in the air would be easier, but I promise you, it's not.

The plus side to my productive morning? I came home, had an ice cream sandwich, and took a nap.