Chicken Soup for the Dorky Soul

Monday Music: Gotye

2011-10-10T09:15:00.000-04:00

Obsessed with this guy. I came across Gotye (and Kimbra, whose music is equally addicting) through The Next Great Generation and my life has been radically changed. Apparently he's big in Australia but really hasn't received much popular notice in America, and I really can't imagine why. I seriously went from 0 to 24-hour Gotye in no time flat.

I'm not an expert music review so there's really nothing else to say that'll do Gotye justice except for the love of God click the videos and you'll never be the same.

Or maybe I'm just a hipster.

You like? Care to share your music with the class?

All Up In Your Facebook with My Body-Positive Rant

2011-10-05T07:57:00.001-04:00

Not to make a totally random comeback or anything (oh, hi, blog!) but I woke up this morning to a Facebook thread so simultaneously inspiring and infuriating that I had to leave a giant rant comment on it that I needed to share with y'all who are still tuning in (some of you lovely people, I hope!)

So basically, a friend of mine/girl I know from college-- who happens to be a gorgeous, very skinny former model-- posted the above photo on her Facebook with a caption saying how beautiful she thinks this woman is. Well, I was pleased to see most of the comments on a very long comment thread were positive, which shocked the hell out of me. But of course, some members of the OMG THINK OF MY EYES! THINK OF THE CHILDREN! brigade came out to make comments that basically said the following:

1. She can't possibly be healthy and that's gross.
2. Fat is objectively less attractive than being skinny.
3. Self-love is an excuse to give up on yourself, yuck!

Maybe it was a combination of my desire to spread the word that fatphobia is damaging and the fact that it was 7 a.m. and I was so not yet in the mental space where I can tolerate a metric ton of stupid bullcrap, but I had to feed the trolls and rant. I wanted to post it here because I've been away too long and I thought you might be interested in how I dealt with it. I didn't edit this at all for the sake of authenticity and I wrote it in a huff so if there are weird typos/grammar things, forgive me.

"Just putting it out there that your weight doesn't always have anything to do with your health, because it's just not that simple-- illness and genetics can make you fat or skinny just like eating and exercise can. First of all, I know plenty of overweight people who exercise and eat better than a lot of the skinny people I know. Secondly, it's bull to make that argument because-- really-- do you care what some random chick get told at her doctor's appointment (and if you've never been fat, you might not realize doctors can be hateful, too, about your weight and not want to deal with you beyond telling you you're too fat)? People use health as an excuse for fatphobia, plain and simple. You know what people don't deserve just because they're not healthy? Hate. People are people. We all deserve to feel safe and get some basic respect. Because of the way this society works, most fat people I know (myself included) have hated themselves and wanted to be skinny and tried. But guess what doesn't work? Punishing yourself. And that's all weight loss is for a lot of people: punishing themselves for not being beautiful, not being good enough, not being thin enough. They do it out of hatred for their bodies and it doesn't work. If hating yourself and dieting worked, everyone would be thin. Instead, the hate creates a negative spiral of unhealthy mental energy and actual behavior. At my skinniest, I was my most depressed, held the most self-loathing, felt most isolated from everyone around me, but at the same time everyone was telling me how much prettier I was and good for me. People noticed me, and believe it or not, that hurts. It really does, seeing for yourself that so much of what makes you you isn't appreciated unless you look a certain way. I didn't feel any more beautiful in size 2 jeans than I felt 10 or more sizes larger [EDIT: Apparently in my rage I forgot women's jeans sizes often go by twos. 10 is more like 5, if it's at all relevant]. I ended up gaining most of the weight back, but I'm at a point where I FEEL deserving of love and respect and I FEEL beautiful and no one needs to validate me (despite the fact I have a fiancee who I've been with 4 years who would beg to differ that skinny girls are objectively more attractive). I eat a more balanced diet now than I did when I was skinny and starving myself. I'm more physically fit than I was when I was working out obsessively. I do those things because I love myself and my body. I do it and it's sustainable because it doesn't come out of a place of hate. But I also realize plenty of people probably look at me and other people who deviate from the ideal as disgusting. But that says nothing about me. That says something about the people who would judge others on their dress size."

I've probably fed the trolls and if it starts a proverbial shitstorm, I'll update you. Maybe no one will say anything about it or notice it, but at least I put myself out there so that some people might look in the mirror before they go judging others.

Have you ever seen people being fatphobic on your news feed? What did you do? If you said anything, what did you say (P.S. you go, girl!) If you didn't, why not? Would you handle it differently in the future?

On Body-Positive Blogging and Why We Need It

2011-07-26T23:15:00.000-04:00

found here

Relatively recently (okay, a month ago) an article ran on Refinery29 about body-positive blogs and whether they are truly of benefit to the people who write and read them. As you can imagine, I was really interested in what the writer, Katie J.M. Baker, had to say on the matter, which I can basically sum up as the following (the tl;dr version, if you will): body-positive blogs are kinda good because they encourage self-acceptance, but they're also hurtful because they're a venue through which young girls to compete with one another and fish for compliments, for approval from strangers.

Now, this post here will not be meant as a complex analysis of the article, which raises some interesting issues that I definitely see coming up with body blogging. What I want to do instead is reflect on the nature of this blog in an attempt to show what kind of purpose these blogs can serve.

Body-positive blogging, for me, is cathartic. It has been a challenge, emotionally-speaking, to turn this blog into a very public window into my life for the sake of helping others. I see sharing personal triumphs and tribulations as a way to create a circle of support not just for myself but for the people who read this blog as well.

There have been many instances when I was concerned about this blog becoming a too self-centered. The one instance that comes to mind immediately is Love 365, which was, for any newcomers, when I wrote down one positive thing about myself every day for one year and posted my list every Friday. Before I started it, I discussed the idea of Love 365 with my boyfriend because I wondered if it was too navel-gazing a journey to embark on in public. Would anyone on the Internet care about what I like about me? Would my readers be completely turned off? After all, we're sort of encouraged to be overly-modest: admitting you're awesome often gets interpreted as arrogant instead of confident. But seeing how awful some people-- including myself-- can feel about themselves, I wanted to make a statement that would work toward changing that. It's okay to love yourself. You're awesome and that's totally fine and you should shout it from the rooftops. I invited my readers to participate in the project and hoped for the best.

I was, honestly, overwhelmed by the response. Did my little campaign go viral? No. But did it get enough responses to leave me humbled? Absolutely. I was so taken aback by all the positive responses (and the lack of negativity). I was honored to see strangers on the Internet e-mail me their love affirmations for the week and commenting with positive thoughts about themselves, often about their bodies. That's a special thing. Maybe I didn't start a worldwide movement, but in 2010, I know a whole bunch of my readers took the time to think about themselves as beautiful, worthwhile and totally okay for even just long enough to write an e-mail. It was amazing.

I feel the same way about the response I've seen to posts about my struggles to love and accept the body I'm in. I've become determined to make this blog heavily feature personal narratives, because I think personal stories hit home in a way that more straightforward articles simply can't. We sometimes have to be reminded that inside these bodies are souls that are strong, that hurt, that feel deeply, that survive. It seems that when I post the stories I'm most afraid to share-- that I sometimes also think are most narcissistic-- that I get the most wonderfully-positive responses. There is something about a stranger on the Internet spilling her guts that brings forth a whole ton of emotions in a reader; I know that because those are the articles I respond best to and because of you.

I will never stop being amazed by the kind of comments and e-mails this blog gets. When I write something that touches something in someone else-- that causes them to, in turn, tell me their story-- I know what I'm doing isn't just narcissistic. Body-positive blogging isn't all about getting compliments and seeking approval: what I get out of it is the incredible feeling that comes when you realize another person felt a little bit better because you said what they've felt. Not everyone wants to share their human experience with the Internet, but if I can share mine in a way that makes others feel as if their story is out there, that's enough.

Because of the nature of the Internet, blogging can easily turn into a competition to get the most hits, the most reblogs and retweets, the most "likes" and all that. It can turn into a search for approval, and as a person entering the field of journalism, of course I write with the hope that people like what I have to say. But as I've matured as a blogger and as person, I've discovered many things that are much better than stats that make blogging meaningful.

Body-positive blogging is wonderful because you get to see your readers relate to you. It helps both of you to not feel so alone.

It's wonderful because you might someday get an e-mail saying that you inspired someone to try not to hate how they look so much. It helps both of you to feel hopeful.

It's wonderful because you might someday read a comment in which someone tells a story they've never told before because your openness has helped them be brave. It helps both of you to be courageous.

It's wonderful because you and your readers are undertaking a challenge together when you write and read body-positive blogs: to learn to love everyone, including yourselves, unconditionally.

Are these blogs narcissistic? Yes, a little. Do people write them looking to "win" something? Of course. But the good far outweighs the bad, and the blogosphere would be a very different place: one worse off for a lack of candid stories and open hearts.

What do you think about body-positive blogs? What makes them great? What makes them, well, not so great sometimes? If you blog about body image, what has the experience been like for you?

Monday Music: Julian Smith

2011-07-25T09:06:00.000-04:00

(warning: lots of flashing lights!)

So, I wasn't sure if this should count as "Monday Music" because Julian Smith is a comedian, but then I decided that any song that can perfectly encapsulate my life and get stuck in my brain deserves a share. I'm not sure if I blogged this in the past, but it deserves a revisit anyway. Julian Smith is funny, adorable and has a lot of other catchy songs on his channel and website that you need to check out.

What about you? What's stuck in your head? Or, are you reading a book? What would happen if, say, someone were to interrupt you while reading it?

Fat People Nightmares

2011-07-04T14:09:00.001-04:00

beatrice harrod

Last night, I checked up with Twitter before going to sleep, which only would have been a good idea if I wanted to go to bed slightly perturbed, which I didn't.

I'll cut to the chase: on the top of the list of Trending Topics was the hashtag #fatpeoplenightmares.

Now, I'm sure you can fill in the blanks for yourself regarding what a bunch of lovely people on the Internet think fat people are afraid of, but I'll give you a small sampling. For instance:

Aren't they lovely, folks? Round of applause, please.

So what do fat people really have nightmares about?

We have nightmares about strangers passing ludicrous judgments on us due to our outward appearance.

We have nightmares about being discriminated against at school or work.

We have nightmares about being given sub-par medical care due to factors we might have little control over.

We have nightmares about the people that publicly embarrass us in order to feel better about themselves.

We have nightmares about losing loved ones to disease.

We have nightmares about losing loved ones to a loss of love, a break-up, an affair, a moving-on.

We have nightmares about not being quite good enough.

We have nightmares about not being beautiful.

We have nightmares about our fears holding us back from what we deserve.

We have nightmares about not being deserving.

We have nightmares about the horror movie we saw last week.

We have nightmares about dying.

We have nightmares about a lost pet never coming back.

We have nightmares about failing at something that means the world to us.

We have nightmares about the monsters our mothers say aren't in our closets.

We have nightmares about rejection.

Skinny people and fat people and in-between people? We have the same nightmares. The same dreams, too.

Perfect

2011-06-14T21:41:00.000-04:00

wild hearts can't be broken

I get overwhelmed sometimes.

Okay, a lot of times.

It can be hard not to panic when the e-mails and assignments keep pouring in, you haven't secured a Grown Up job yet (don't worry, you're still waitressing at the same place you have been since you were 16), you're in the process of getting ready to move out and the dog won't stop barking at particularly intimidating lamps on the TV (she's a little stupid).

But everything comes together in the moments before crunch time when I settle in with a cup of chai and my favorite Pandora station to get ready to spend an evening writing. And I love to write because I'm an inquisitive kind of person: for me, spending a night looking over interviews and tying quotes together is like doing Sudoku. Journalism is about fitting puzzle pieces together, and as overwhelmed as I get at first, the sense of accomplishment I get from finding the story is worth it. In these moments, with my tea and my music and my laptop, I know that somehow, I am in the right place and everything will be just fine.

Everything will be just fine.

What happens in your perfect moments? When do you feel most in your element?

The Pair OR The Mental Health Benefits of Letting Stuff Go

2011-06-08T23:15:00.004-04:00

the blower's daughter

I can tell you with absolute certainty what the oldest pair of underwear is.

I know what you're thinking: whoawhoawhoa back up, too much information. I do not need to hop aboard the Overshare Express and read about your ratty old panties. Well if that's what you just thought you can just take it back, you jump-to-conclusions-er.

When I was 17, I was not allowed to wear thongs, so I did what all proper teenagers do: during days off school, I snuck out of my house when my mother was at work, walked to the mall and bought some. It started with the ultra-plain kind they sell at Old Navy, three-packs of simple cotton thongs in neutral colors. I didn't stick to these gateway drugs of the undergarment world for very long, though: things quickly escalated to perusing the super sale racks at Wet Seal for the kind of sexy polyester I had always wanted.

I ransacked the place.

I acquired panties of all kinds of colors and patterns and stashed them away deep, deep in my dresser. I did my own laundry without fail for fear I would be caught and publicly shamed by my mother, who would be extremely disappointed that I was clearly sleeping with every guy in town based on a few purple ruffles. Pantygate would be the end of the world, but it was worth the risk for sure. I was 17 and I wore thongs. I was an adult.

There was one thong I did not have to hide in the laundry.

It was probably my favorite: light beige, silky smooth with flirty, flouncy mesh edges that were sprinkled with light pink and purple sequins. There was a bow on the front and the back.

This thong stayed in my drawer for one reason and one reason alone: it was too small. It was too small, but too pretty to get rid of.

When I was 17, I was the thinnest I have ever been in my entire life, but even at the weight I was, I longed desperately to be smaller.

This thong, my favorite one, was a challenge.

Five years later, I have gained all the weight I lost back and then some. Needless to say, I have never worn that thong. I never even came close to fitting into it, honestly-- no closer than the day I bought it anyhow. Yet for five years and countless spring cleanings, I have held onto that thong. I have picked it up, looked it over and put it back in the drawer for keeps.

Someday, I would think, someday I will be thin enough to wear this.

Recently, I chucked another piece of challenge clothing that I'd become quite attached to. It was a denim miniskirt I got at Old Navy around the same time I bought the thong. I haven't fit into it in years: it is a size 0, which in retrospect I can't even fathom despite Old Navy's penchant for vanity sizing. My boyfriend was with me while I was pruning my closet and brought it out.

"Can you believe I wore this?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Does it fit you now?" he asked. I raised an eyebrow and demonstrated. The skirt got to about the very bottoms of my thighs before it had stretched its farthest.

"Toss it," he said. He's very practical.

"I can't," I protested. "I like it. I don't think I'd ever wear it again even if I could fit into it, but it represents a time when I was skinny." It sounded sillier aloud than it ever did in my head.

"You know, you talk about how okay you are with your weight all the time, but if you were really okay with it, you would just get rid of that thing," he said. "It's stupid to keep it around just to remind you you were skinny once."

I make fun of this boy all the time, but he had a point: why was I keeping a piece of clothing I didn't even want as a trophy of my smallest size? That isn't the kind of body positivity I'm trying to have for myself. Thin Vanessa is not someone I need to mourn. Thin Vanessa and Fat Vanessa are the same person. I do not need that skirt as a memorial. Thin is not my biggest accomplishment, and I don't need to hold onto something in a way that suggests it was.

The skirt went into the box for Good Will. And as corny as it sounds, it was like a weight was lifted from my shoulders.

But I still have these panties, and I don't know what to do with them. Rather, I know what I need to do with them, but I am ever-so-slightly hesitant to make it happen. Even if I am ever thin enough to fit into them, do I really need them around as a reminder? Do I need to keep clothing that doesn't fit me to prod me to be the best I can be? Because "thin" and "best" are not the same. Thin is a challenge I do not need to undertake. I try to take care of my health and treat myself well, but how accomplished I feel in life should not rest on the number on the scale and a $2.00 pair of underwear.

I know what I have to do.

Will it be hard? Strangely, yes. For whatever reason-- and many of you have probably felt the same about clothing-- this particular pair of underwear means something to me. This thong means a time when I was close to some sort of commonly-held physical ideal and a part I battle with every day misses that, wishes so hard I could be that again. It would all be easier, maybe, but I know it wouldn't be because I've been there. No matter what you look like, if you don't love and accept yourself, you will always be unhappy with your appearance. This thong says, too, that even when I was that close, I was not close enough. I was not good enough. I know now that that isn't true. I was good enough all along, and you are, too.

I know what I have to do.

Do you hold on to clothing that doesn't fit? How long have you had it? Don't you think it's time you gave it up?

Monday Music: Ke$ha Unplugged

2011-06-06T17:11:00.000-04:00

Yes, this is Ke$ha without autotune. The world may implode.

Now, I know I wrote a post awhile back about the ill effects of raunch culture in which I cited Ke$ha as one of those ladies corrupting the youth of America. Okay, maybe I wasn't that melodramatic, but there's a lot that Ke$ha sings that I find distasteful in the lyrics department (secretly, I think Ke$ha songs are really fun and catchy, but I'm sure I'm not alone). However, I am not one to deny credit where credit is due. Some of you may have seen this around this Internet already (I may have even tweeted it), but it's worth a listen because girl actually has a gorgeous voice. I know, I was surprised, too.

Reason for posting this today? I don't know, no reason really other than I've listened to it on repeat for about an hour every few days since I found it, and that's reason enough to share.

What have been listening to on repeat? Care to share with the class?

Results May Vary

2011-06-01T15:04:00.000-04:00

waiting for the and

*Need a hump day pick-me-up? Download the very awesome 23 Things You Might Not Know About You e-book, compiled by some awesome bloggers including Amanda Oaks of Kind Over Matter.

*Added this to your list of daily blogs to check: The Cosby Sweater Project.

*Fabulous girl group XELLE shoots a music video for "Party Girl" on a moving New York City subway car without a permit, and it turns out awesome.

pinterest

*Sky Island is a really creative online game you have to try. Navigate the world and collect stars by transforming your environment.

*Dana at The Body and the Brood asks if we should really be at war with obesity.

*I wish there were way more of these: World Culture Infographics IRL.

we heart it

*I found this article about runner Darryl Houghtelling to be really inspiring. Yes, it's a weight loss story, but it's one that focuses on health and joy as reasons to be active rather than shame as a reason to get thin.

*My nerd might be showing here, but I love this adorable blog about amigurumi.

*What? You need another flash game to play? All right, try Reimagine the Game on for size -- this one's only for lovers of pop culture and memes. I warn you, it's tricky (and gory-- I mean, it's Newgrounds, what did you expect?)

charmed and forgotten

These are few of things that I'm lovin' lately, but results may vary. Tell me what you think and share your favorite links in the comments!

Absent

2011-05-31T06:00:00.000-04:00

Okay, okay, I've screwed up. I can admit when I'm wrong, you know. I abandoned this blog for a month, whichwas probably longer than I had to. Will you forgive me? Pretty please? I'll be good this time, I promise.

Anyway, are you curious what I've been up to at all?

BAM! GRADUATED!

Yeah, no big deal or anything.

So, I've basically been preoccupied with finishing school, graduating, moving back in and looking for permanent employment. I'll be returning to my waitressing job for now, but my boyfriend and I are hoping to move out as soon as I get a real job. Ideally, we'll be out of the house by August when he starts law school, but we can't get our hopes up too high.

All in all, I still can't believe I'm done with college. I don't think I'll really feel like this isn't my summer vacation until August/September rolls around and I find myself not packing up to return to Clark. I'm thinking I'll be okay.

This is kinda irrelevant, but I've also been on a vegan cupcake baking spree. I bought Vegan Cupcakes Take Over The World by Isa Chandra Moskowitz and Terry Hope Romero, and it's amazing. Seriously, I would recommend this cookbook even to non-vegans. I've only tried a few of the recipes so far, but many of them don't have ingredients that are too bizarre (no, say, free range wheat grass) and the preps tend to be pretty easy. I've eaten them almost exclusively with non-vegans, all of whom agreed they're awesome and don't "taste vegan" (code for: they don't taste too healthy). My boyfriend, a junk food connoisseur, claims the peanut butter ones are the best cupcakes he's ever had. I would also add you should buy this book for the chocolate frosting recipe alone, which is absolutely otherworldly. You will never buy store frosting again.

Anyway, a friend and I tried a recipe for margarita cupcakes which came out amazing. May the limes that gave their lives for us be eternally blessed.

Are they as pretty as the ones in the book? Not in the least. But were they delicious? Oh hell yes.

Basically, I just wanted to let y'all know I'm back and I don't plan on leaving you again. The last whole bunch of months have taken a toll on my blogging schedule, but I think the break-- even if it was full of other work-- will have done wonders for my blogging mojo.

See you tomorrow, lovelies!

On "Dark Girls" and the Impacts of Lookism

2011-05-30T06:15:00.026-04:00

Dark Girls: Preview from Bradinn French on Vimeo.

If you haven't yet, it's absolutely crucial that you give the above video about skin color-based discrimination within the black community nine minutes of your time. Don't worry, I'll wait here.

Done? Yes? Excellent, because I want to have a word with you about it. (I know, a couple of more minutes of your time, please).

There are so many nasty "-isms" in our society, and I would venture that lookism is one that tends to fly under the radar despite its ties with a slew of the others (racism, classism, sexism, etc.). As a white woman, I cannot directly relate with the experiences these black women had going through life with dark skin, but nonetheless it breaks my heart to see women who are so beautiful and articulate struggling like this. "Dark Girls" (or the preview, I should say) is a fine example of how damaging ideas become entrenched in cultures.

Modern society is so focused on looks that the damage lookism can go unnoticed: due to our fixation on looks, it is taken for granted that it is best to look a certain way, that women must be pretty, and that conventional prettiness takes on a narrow definition that makes itself unattainable at best for large segments of the population. You are born with your skin tone, and that's why I believe this kind of discrimination cuts so deeply (disregarding the racial implications for now): your skin is such an integral, unchangeable part of who you are. The rejection of skin is the rejection of the person in it at a fundamental level.

On the topic of unattainable perfection: my boyfriend, Luke, who is half black and half white, has dealt with skin color prejudices in both directions. Biracial people in our society are often forced to exist in a sort of liminal space due to the binaries that we hold so dear: even though most people recognize that you can be two races, you are often put into a position in which you must choose one or the other. Instead of being able to shift comfortably between communities, biracial people often find themselves as double outsiders. Luke often references the fact that the fact that light skin keeps him from feeling "black enough," even though he identifies as black over white. However, being light works in his favor, too. He has access to spaces and opportunities that we can see even just from this documentary are not open to darker black people. That privilege is also alienating.

We must ask ourself why we continue, as a society, to hand privilege to certain people based on their skin color. Despite what many conservatives are saying lately, white people are not the new downtrodden race, and as a white person I realize that I enjoy privileges that I don't even notice every. single. day. We have to start noticing, and we have to start pushing back.

Creating spaces of universal acceptance is a huge job that we all must undertake. What we see in "Dark Girls" is the fact that the attacks come from within our own social groups. Women police other women, people of a particular race police others of their race, and so on and so forth. It takes us-- the brothers and sisters in arms, the insiders-- to get that change rolling.

As I often say with issues of weight, it is time for all of us to not only to refuse to buy into beauty standards ourselves, but to engage an open, positive dialogue with others. It is time to call people out who say nasty comments about others' looks. It is time to instate a No Looks-Bashing Zone around yourself with a zero-tolerance policy. It is time to stop laughing uncomfortably when a friend makes a comment about their own appearance-- because I know sometimes it is hardest to stand up to our friends. These people who have been indoctrinated with the belief that their skin-- or any aspect of their physical appearance-- makes them somehow less than need help to see it in another light.

No one is less worthy of love, happiness and success because of their looks.

We cannot be complacent. We must fight for our friends, our sisters, our mothers, our wives and ourselves.

People brought these -isms into the world, and we have the power to take them out.

Have you experienced prejudice or privilege based on your skin tone?

Life After College: Laura

2011-04-29T14:04:00.001-04:00

laura

All right. So earlier in the week I was freaking out about my Quarter Life Crisis. Graduation is a huge transition, and I bet I'm not the only one who's a little bit nervous about it. Knowing that many of my readers are of late high school or college age, or just starting out life as 20-something on the go, I decided to start a bit of a mini-series about recent grads and how they made it: the good, the bad and the ugly.

This week I spoke with my buddy Laura. Laura writes at Ruby Bastille and Average Fantastic and is becoming a fantastic wedding planning for her own wedding (everyone go "awww!"). Here, she discusses graduating with a creative writing degree, your need to network and her love of Blizzards.

****

-Where did you go to college?

I went to Linfield College, a small school in a small town in Oregon. Go Wildcats! (My sister is on their tennis team now, so I can say that without sounding like a tool.)

-What was your major?

Creative writing. People give me funny looks because it’s not the most practical-sounding degree, but hey, I know how to use an apostrophe.

-When did you graduate?

I graduated in May 2009.

-What was second semester senior year like, work-wise and emotionally (in relation to school, moving, etc.)

Oh gosh, that seems like ages ago. That’s one side effect of graduating: time seems to slow down. It feels like college was five or six years ago, not two.

Final semester of anyone’s senior year is likely to be totally insane on both counts. Luckily my workload wasn’t too bad – in fact, I had so many credits taken care of that I got to study Japanese that year, and even when a schedule mishap left me short one credit, I was able to take community service and work at a pet shelter. Even my thesis class (for which I essentially wrote the first third of a book) wasn’t too stressful because our professor didn’t expect us to produce a completely finished novel in less than a year.

Emotionally, that final semester was definitely challenging. It’s very hard to come to terms with dissolving the ties you’ve made and the life you’ve established during those four years of college. I remember one moment in early May, between classes, when I was talking to a freshman girl who I’d only recently become friends with. On my way to my next class, I realized that I was never going to get a chance to know her well because I’d probably never really see her again, and I deeply regretted not spending more time with her when I had the chance. That was not a fun afternoon, realizing that soon my friends would be scattered across the globe and that things would certainly change between us. Fortunately I still live within driving distance of my two best friends, and I don’t know where I’d be if I didn’t have that little lifeline.

-When did you start looking for a job and somewhere to live? What was that like? How long did all that take for you?

Even though the economy was in the toilet when we graduated, I decided to do an internship abroad. My career goals always included working in a college setting, preferably with study-abroad programs, so I went to Ireland to work in a university’s international education office. I was convinced that once I came back with ten weeks of real-world unpaid work experience, I’d have no trouble getting into the field. Surprise! I’m still not in it, but that’s a story for another day.

Kevin, my boyfriend of three-ish years at that point, proposed to me when he came to meet me in Europe after my internship. That was in September 2009. At that point we hadn’t really decided where to plant ourselves, but once I decided to apply to grad school at OSU, it made sense for us to move back to Oregon. We ended up in Salem, where the housing was cheaper and the economy a modicum better than it was in Corvallis, and we officially moved into our apartment in November.

At that point, sheer dumb luck kicked in. My dad was working at an Oregon bank, so he offered to send both of our resumes around the bank to help us find work. By December, after five or six weeks of applying for jobs, I’d scraped up a part-time job at Blockbuster (unrelated to the networking), but that was a lousy job with only 8 hours a week. Luckily, the networking kicked in and I interviewed for a temp job at a state environmental agency. I think I interviewed twice for that job, and was rejected twice, before somebody at their office got mono or something, which required them to hire another temp – me.I kept getting lucky. Oregon’s economy still hasn’t improved much, but the agency kept me on for another 6 months, essentially doubling my time there. And when those six months came to an end, one of my coworkers told me her daughter was leaving her job as a receptionist at a real estate agency. I interviewed and started working there last August.

So, if I get to drop some advice in here, it’s this: start networking right now. Work on campus or volunteer in the area. Chat up your professors, because you may come asking about jobs they’ve heard about. Do job shadows or informational interviews, and stay in touch with those people. Burn no bridges, because while the economy may be improving slightly, networking plays a huge role in how you get a job. Some ridiculous percentage of jobs is never posted publicly – eighty percent or something – so who you know and how well you know them is critical. /soapbox

-What was going through your head on graduation day?

Lots of things, none of them very profound: where my family was in the stands, if my cell phone stuffed in my bra was visible through my robes, if my robes were on right, if you could see my sorority letters on my second sash, if I would trip on my way up to the stage, who would be sitting around me, etc. It wasn’t until afterwards that I really started to think holy &$#%, I’ve graduated. It was exciting and a little scary – like standing on the edge of a diving board. Sure, there might be sharks in the water, but you gotta jump, right?

-What would you tell people who are graduating with a "useless" major? (English major right here)

Honestly, I was never afraid of graduating with "Creative Writing" on my degree because I had so much other work and leadership experience during college. It did feel a little funny during college to have to field those awkward "what are you going to do with that major?" questions, but after college, people really weren't too concerned about it. Those one or two words on your degree don't matter nearly as much as the activities, employment, club leadership, class projects, student body involvement, etc. that fill up your resume.

However, as a fellow major in the seemingly useless field of English, you can tell the nosy people that you're learning communication skills that you can apply to a huge range of jobs, which is true. Employers everywhere are looking for good writers, and there are an awful lot of bad writers out there.

No matter what you majored in, though, you chose that major because you enjoy it and wanted to learn more about it, which should be all the answer you need!

-Are you doing any work in your field? How do you feel about it either way?

Nope. I’m still a receptionist. Actually, I’m technically the office manager now, but it’s still nowhere near what I want to do with my life. Getting into the international-education field has proved to be a lot harder than I expected, even with all the contacts I made through college and my internship. Since most jobs require a master’s, I applied to grad school twice and got waitlisted both times. That’s a hard thing to deal with and I’m still debating applying again, both because rejection sucks and because I’m tired of waiting for my life to really start. Waiting for grad school forced us both into limbo, in a town we don’t enjoy living in, where the job market is lousy and the weather is lousier. We want to move on with our lives.

I’m still writing, of course. I work on The Book and occasionally poems during my lunch break and after work. I don't expect to have a career in writing (although I certainly wouldn’t mind finding one), and while I would prefer to be able to dedicate more of my day to writing, I’m content with what I have at the moment. I'm going to keep my eye on the job market and apply for whatever comes up. Writing is my real passion; international education was (is) the passion that will pay. :)

-What was the best part about getting your own place? What really sucked?

The best part was finally having complete independence. Yes, I’m still living with someone, but he’s my fiancé and therefore my other half. J It’s a lot easier to negotiate chores with one fiancé than three roommates. We go to bed when we want, we have friends over, we stop at Fred Meyer when we’re out of milk, we leave our papers lying around, we cook for each other, all that fun stuff. Oh, and we have a cat, which was illegal at school. Plus, we didn't have to move back in with our parents, which happened to a lot of folks who graduated around that time. We're pretty proud that we managed to carve a life out for ourselves, even if it's not the most fun or fulfilling life at times.

The worst part has probably been loneliness. One of our college friends lives in our apartment complex, and another is less than an hour away, but that doesn’t exactly fill the void left by having three roommates, a sorority, classes, and clubs in which to see people. Working full-time means we don’t have the time or energy to make new friends, even though we should probably try.

-How did moving out effect your relationships?

Kevin and I weren’t engaged when we graduated, but we had already planned on getting married. Moving in together was certainly a big change for both of us, but I’m glad we got to work on strengthening our relationship amidst the drama of a bad economy by living together.

I think moving out was hard on my mom because while I was starting out on my own, my sister was starting college. I see my mom during the holidays, and I’ll probably see her a lot between now and July as we work on wedding stuff, but it’s been a big change for both of us. My sister, on the other hand, is less than an hour away at Linfield, so we can meet for dinner sometimes.

-Have you ever had a Quarter Life Crisis? What was that life?

HA. Ahaha. Yes. Oh lord yes. I think I go through one every six months or so.

I first heard about a "quarter-life crisis" during my senior year and I thought it was a silly thing that only happened to people who couldn't cope with being away from mommy and daddy for the first time. Surprise! It actually kind of sucks to have to fight to prove yourself in the real world, and sometimes your biggest victory is being able to mail your rent check and say "I earned that money on my own." Which is a huge victory, to be sure, but when you've been gradually lowering your expectations to accodomate the lousy economy, you start feeling pretty bad about yourself. We've been told all our lives that we have something to offer to the world, but a lot of times it seems like nobody wants or needs you, which is an awful feeling.

The worst one for me was getting waitlisted from my dream grad school two years in a row - I wasn't outright rejected, but I wasn't good enough, ever, to make it in. I wasn't worthy. It really dragged me down for a while, but I started looking elsewhere to apply my skills and convincing myself that I WAS worthy, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. There's always a chance for improvement, always another door opening, all that warm-fuzzy stuff. I'm feeling better about how my life is going now because I was able to look for new open doors rather than staring at the one that had closed.

-Is there thing about the "real world" that no one told you but you wish you'd known?

No one is looking out for you anymore. This isn’t something I would have necessarily wanted someone to tell me, but it’s something I’m glad I’ve figured out. I’ve been very lucky in that most of my employers have been very nice people, but I’ve had to keep in mind that they do not have my best interests in mind and they are not concerned with what’s going on in my life. They are not my friends, and I am not theirs. It sounds ruthless, but it’s important to keep that relationship in perspective.

Also, stuff is expensive! Food prices are ridiculous, Internet costs an arm and a leg, and the heating bill can be scary in winter. Fortunately, I'm one of the lucky kids whose parents want to keep them on their family plans for insurance and cell phones. I'm not looking forward to having to manage those expenses.

-How do you have fun on (what I imagine is) a limited budget?

Netflix. Not even joking. We dropped our cable last fall and never looked back. Netflix has proved to be way cheaper and more fun than cable and Blockbuster combined. We can catch our current shows online, and I appreciate not being able to just turn on the TV for the sake of having noise.

Honestly, we’re not the type of people who go out much, so I’m probably not the best person to ask about having fun on a budget. Plus, Salem is kinda boring. We coupon-clip and sometimes go out for Blizzards or ice cream. We keep an eye on local events – there’s some pretty neat stuff in the summer, like an art fair and the World Beat festival. I shop way too much - that keeps me happy. We get Groupon, which sometimes has cool stuff. A local radio station sells half-price gift certificates, and we've gotten a few inexpensive dinners that way. Other than that, our idea of fun is to just sit at home and play video games or watch a movie.

Sigh. We're already old people.

****

What was graduation like for you? Anything you're dreading about it if you haven't been there yet? Any questions for Laura? Fire away!

The Quarter Life Crisis

2011-04-26T23:58:00.000-04:00

here

Today was my last day at my internship. At ten of two, I walked into my editor's office and asked her to sign the time sheet I have to pass into Career Services to verify my academic credit. I tried to stay calm and collected. I tried to be funny. She thanked me for my work and told me I was talented and that she wished me the best. And I tried not to cry, because I hate things like this. I thanked her for the opportunity.

I went back to my cubicle and started packing up my things. The senior writer, who I had worked with quite a bit covering his boxing training for our website, came over and asked if I was leaving. He's young, and he graduated from the same college as I will be in a few weeks. He wished me the best, too, and asked that I keep in touch. I tried not to cry, because I hate things like this.

When I went to say goodbye to our-- oh gosh, not our anymore, I suppose-- online editor, she stood up and went for a hug. In my brain, I panicked. This would unleash all the emotion, I was sure. I held back tears, because I hate things like this, hate when things I love have to go away, and told her we'd keep in touch.

And even as I walked down the stairs and called my cab one last time, as I waited for that cab on the corner of Water and Harrison Street across from The Broadway Deli, I didn't cry.

See, I don't like change sometimes. Most of us don't love it all the time, I suppose. And right now, so many things are changing. Though I knew that my internship would have to end, it's the first part in a series of important events that are coming up for me.

On May 22, I will walk across a stage and get a diploma, a B.A. in English and Journalism from Clark University.

I will walk away from friends that, in some cases, because of geography, I will never see in person again.

On the same day, I will pack up the last of my things into my family's car for the last time. I will lock the door of the last dorm room I will ever live in and give my key back to the RA for the last time. We will drive away from Worcester, Massachusetts, back to the little town of Danvers, Massachusetts, that I call home.

Soon, with any luck, I will get a job, and my boyfriend of three-and-a-half years and I will move out. We will pay our own bills and live paycheck-to-paycheck as he goes to law school. I will not be going to graduate school like so many other people I know.

And I guess what's scariest about all this change is that it happened so fast. I remember the group of Clarkies that Facebooked each other over the summer before college and arranged meet-ups. The Massachusetts kids, we ate at Fire & Ice together and had Ben & Jerry's and sat on Boston Common. I remember my first day at college, freshman year, for our week-long orientation. I remember meeting my first roommate and how awkward it was. I remember when Douchebag Ex Boyfriend visited for the night and we slept in the same bed for the first time ever and how he didn't love me but I kissed him goodbye because he was going to bootcamp. And I remember how, when he was away, I met the boyfriend I have now, and how a good friend from Texas made damn sure I made the right choice between a guy who didn't love me and someone who would.

I remember the night I sobbed hysterically on the phone with my mother because I was floundering in my science classes and I just didn't want to go to medical school anymore and how disappointed she was that I wanted to be a writer. It's funny, because nowadays, I never think about that and journalism never seems like my plan B.

It wasn't some kind of concrete moment, but in college, as corny as it sounds, I learned so much about myself, found myself.

Maybe the School vs. Real Life paradigm is a fake. Maybe it doesn't matter, but as I sit here right now thinking about the way my life is changing, the way I feel like I am being thrust into real life faster than I ever imagined I would be, it is frightening. It is a monster of a thing.

And I think about how when I was a little girl and I would complain that I wanted to grow up, my mother would tell me how very fast time goes as you get older. I remember her saying how 17 feels like yesterday to her, how she remembers being in high school.

All that seems real now. If four years have gone so fast, how quickly will the rest fly by? When I am 70 it might feel like today, like sitting in my dorm room a month away from graduation writing a blog post instead of studying for finals, was months ago. When I think about that, life seems like some insurmountable challenge, like there couldn't be enough time. Sometimes it's frightening, and it makes me wish I could stop the spinning. I wish I could stop it because I remember four years ago, and four years before that, and before that, and before that. And things aren't simple anymore.

So this is a declaration, I suppose, of my Quarter Life Crisis.

Did you go through a quarter life crisis? How did you cope? Do you ever worry that time is going too quickly? Ohhhh boy.

Happy Weekend

2011-04-15T19:15:00.000-04:00

This made my day and I had to share. I envy this kid's confidence. Haters gonna hate.

Seen any amazing Youtube videos lately? What are you up to this weekend?

Today You Should....

2011-04-14T12:34:00.000-04:00

here

...save your work 'til dark, because this day is too beautiful to miss.

...have a dance party.

...write a bucket list.

...get the biggest size ice cream they've got.

...laze around outside and read your local paper.

...find a hidden picnic spot.

...shout your love from the rooftops.

...protect yourself from the sun with a gorgeous umbrella.

...have a bon voyage party for your winter closet.

...make a summery salad for dinner.

...find out if your city has a Food Not Bombs chapter that you can join.

...make plans with a friend you rarely see.

...just let it go. It's not worth being angry over.

...wear a dress or skirt without tights. What a relief!

...get a fancy frozen drink at Starbucks, a local bar, etc. in celebration.

...declare this a day without worry. It will all be okay.

Today in Worcester, Massachusetts it is finally spring. I'm in my office (okay, cubicle) at Worcester Magazine, so I don't exactly have the chance yet to go out and enjoy it. But that doesn't mean that you can't do it for me!

Is it spring-like where you are? What are doing to enjoy it?

Why Talk Sex

2011-04-04T14:55:00.002-04:00

JiBs.

[NOTE: This post discusses rape and suggestions for reducing "rape culture."]

A couple of weeks ago, I attended an event at my school called Clark's First Time. Sponsored by our campus sex-education group, Choices, it was a night for college kids to get on stage and talk about their first sexual experiences-- and other firsts, too. The goal in doing this was to encourage sexual openness on campus.

Now, I'm not giving you a ton of information here because I really hope you'll check out the article I wrote about it for Worcester Magazine. We would love your comments, and I really liked writing the article anyway. I think I took it in a direction really reminiscent of how I write on this blog, so I think you'll like it.

But I wanted to make a whole darn post about it because I think I learned some really important stuff in researching the article. See, I figured out halfway through the thing that the real story I wanted to tell wasn't just about the event and Clark students getting together to talk sexy. The real story is that most of the participants were women, and women in many societies are seriously discouraged from talking about sex, whether that means sexual health, activities, kinks, orientation or even assault.

According to the Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network (RAINN), the most common reason women cite for not reporting rape/sexual assault is the fact that it is seen as a personal matter. And in a way, yes, it is. Sex can be used so powerfully as a weapon because the sexual aspects of ourselves are so private and personal: not only does rape take away someone's bodily autonomy in the moments it happens, but talking about it involves discussing, in some sense, our sex lives, which is frowned upon. It is a crime that people don't like to talk about not just because it is traumatic, but because it is sexual.

But rape is not really sexual. It is a crime that involves sex-- a crime of power-- and in our society we treat that as taboo. And this is incredibly problematic. Women are, by far, the main victims of sexual assault, and they're also a group that is told that sex is something you don't talk about. It isn't ladylike. Women who have sex too much or in ways that aren't seen as normative are sluts. Women who get raped face inappropriate questions.

What were you wearing? What were you drinking? What time was it? What neighborhood were you in?

And even though there are some things women can do to help reduce the chance of assault, rape is never her fault. No matter what factors played into it happening, they did not justify attack in any way.

I believe, sincerely, that if we can create a culture in which women are allowed to express their sexuality in whatever way they choose, we can create a culture in which sexual assault can be talked about. If women feel that they have control over their sexuality and that their sexuality is not dirty or wrong, maybe they won't face the terrible shame many women feel over being raped and they'll report it without fear of blame. Rape should be shameful for the perpetrator, never the victim.

So what can we do?

-Talk openly about your sexual experiences. Sex is a normal part of life.
-Listen to people when they want to talk about their sexual experiences, and don't judge.
-Stop using words like "slut" or "whore," and call people out when they use them.
-Don't say "man-whore" either-- it doesn't equalize things. All it says is that a man sleeping around is acting like a woman behaving badly, so it still enforces damaging ideas about female sexuality.
-Don't use "rape" as a turn of phrase. I hear a lot of people say things like they got "totally raped" when their friend beats them at a video game or that they "rape the replay button" on a Youtube video. It's not cute, funny, or edgy.
-Acknowledge that men can also be rape survivors. For the purpose of this post, we didn't discuss it, but that doesn't make that experience any less painful or valid. Men are not immune to sexual violence even though we sometimes forget that.
-Help start a dating and sexual violence prevention group at your school (I wrote about Clark's here).
-Volunteer with a local Rape Crisis Center or a helpline.
-When you hear talk that aims to silence victims or to place shame on others' sexuality, speak up. Always.

What are you doing to create a more woman-friendly world?

Let's Talk: Photoshop

2011-04-01T20:11:00.000-04:00

msbluesky

So I woke up this morning, took care of some errands, and decided to spend a few leisurely moments on the Internet. I often check out what's at Jezebel (you bet I've got the old layout activated), and today one of the posts was about more Photoshop mishaps over at Ann Taylor's website.

Now there's the obvious mistake: the missing arm. Admittedly, I probably wouldn't notice it, at least at first, as I browsed the online catalog, but a missing arm is a pretty silly mistake. That, to me, indicates a certain degree of carelessness, but not something to actively sound the alarms over.

What did bother me immensely was when I scrolled down to look at the comments. One reads:

"In any case, the way her torso appears to be shaved down is more problematic, no? In the pink photo, the same model looks believably (healthily) slim; in the blue, she's as stretched and skinny Olive Oyl. I worry far more about young women aspiring to extreme thinness as a standard of beauty than to amputation. (Or maybe I'm behind the curve, and that's the next trend.)"

Wait, what? I scrolled back up to look at the photos in question. In case you're feeling lazy this Friday morning, here's a side-by-side comparison.

I have to at least partially agree: the photos of this model-- who is clearly the same woman-- look significantly different. In blue, she appears to have a much longer, slimmer torso, and I don't know if that's necessarily because her shirt is untucked. I mean, this could just be the magic of angles and maybe she hasn't been stretched in the photo at left, but either way it got me thinking about the instances of Photoshop that I never seem to notice. As an adult woman in modern society, I do know that everything I see in any kind of media is Photoshopped, but sometimes when the cases aren't so terrible, they slip quietly under the radar. And for me, I think those subtle changes are what we really need to be worried about. It's easy to explain that perfectly poreless skin is the result of digital airbrushing. It's easy to notice the manipulations when you see a woman on the cover of a magazine looking slightly unlike herself and more like a plastic doll. But when the changes a just a slight stretch upward and a bit of torso-slimming, it's harder to catch and easier for those changes to infiltrate our body images.

Now, I have nothing against thin women. I get the sense that many times, in an effort to feel better about ourselves and to reject the truly awful things the media tries to do to us, we turn skinny people into villains working for The Man, and they're not. I think women of all shapes and sizes are beautiful in their own way-- even if their looks don't suit my personal beauty preferences as a straight woman. There certainly are women with long, very slender torsos, but I'm not exactly sure this model is one of them-- not to the degree she is in the left photo. And that's damaging no matter how close your body is to matching the aesthetic ideal. For me, the slight tweaks speak volumes:

You are not okay, you are not okay, you would be so pretty if, they intone.

But let's talk.

What do you think about Photoshop? Are you good at spotting it? Do you think it influences your body image? Have you ever digitally manipulated a photo of yourself for Facebook, Myspace, etc.? Why or why not? And of course, do you think the above example is subtle Photoshop or a really flattering shirt/camera angle?

Male Privilege and The Cat Call

2011-03-23T11:44:00.000-04:00

hackney post

Every Tuesday at promptly 2 p.m., I pack up my things at my internship and call a cab back to my dorm. If it's nice out, I spend the five to 15 minute-wait on the sidewalk, which is most convenient for me anyway because my cab can't miss me. This is usually uneventful, unless you count the times during Snowmageddon that I had to wait over an hour to get a cab and nearly cried out of frustration.

Yesterday was frustrating for a completely different reason.

Yesterday, as I was heading toward my usual bit of sidewalk, I heard a wolf whistle. Instinctively, I turned to look in its direction and a disheveled middle-aged man was standing across the street. He waved both arms and cocked his chin.

"Hey, baby!" He was clearly approaching me, and quickly.

In a panic, I flipped open my cell phone and pretended to take a call as I rushed back toward the office building.

"Oh, hello? I just left, why-- I can come back!" I'm not sure why I thought this would help my situation.

When I got inside I hid behind the wall that juts out by the elevator and waited. He saw what door I went into, I thought nervously. He knows where I am. This door doesn't lock. If he wants to come get me, he can. I considered going back upstairs as if I'd forgot something to buy myself time, to lose him, but I decided against it. I scurried out to check if he was anywhere in sight. The coast was clear. I wasn't sure at this point if I missed my cab. I sent a text message to my boyfriend.

"A creepy guy just catcalled me and waved at me. I went back into the building to hide from him :("

":(" my boyfriend replied.

Of course, I got my cab several minutes later and I survived to write this post. And all things said, it wasn't that much of a terrible situation. I didn't get hurt. My office is in a busy-enough area that if this man had tried anything, someone would see-- and maybe that would have deterred him from going any further than calling to me. I tried all day to tell myself that this is no big deal. It's just a catcall, you might say.

But it isn't. When a stranger actively does something that makes you uncomfortable enough to question your safety, it is a pretty big deal. I don't see how any older man-- any man at all-- could imagine that whistling at, gesturing to, and swiftly approaching a young, solitary female would be a situation that wouldn't make her feel threatened, intimidated. I like to think I am tough and self-assured, but in those moments, I felt shaken, and I hid. I wasn't sure whether he would pursue me-- I didn't know that person, so there was no telling what he might do. Sometimes when you run you get caught.

You could call it paranoia, but I wouldn't go that far.

I would venture a guess that many women, especially women who live in cities, have been made to feel ill-at-ease by a male stranger's advances at one point or another. Sometimes, when I'm not alone, it's easy to brush off a "hey, baby!" from a passing car or a wink from a man on the street. When you're alone and it happens, you truly feel alone-- at least I did. Alone, and desperate, and trapped, not like the tough, independent woman I fancy myself to be.

What's problematic here is that this is a problem of privilege, one that favors men and victimizes women (and I'm taking the perspective of a heterosexual woman because that is the experience I can speak to-- but please share your perspective in the comments). If we were to switch roles, even if I were an older woman and this man a younger man, I doubt he would feel threatened by me hitting on him in public. I doubt that concern for his safety would take the forefront and he would hurry back inside. Whether men realize it or not in their everyday lives, they are privileged.

My boyfriend is annoyed sometimes when I ask him to do things like walk me a few minutes across campus at night. He sometimes says that it won't make a difference for anyone's safety ("we'll just both get mugged!"), but I think that's just him being a man who hasn't quite realized his own privilege. When a woman is with a man, she is less likely to be harassed or attacked. As a woman, I do need to take my safety into account when going even short distances after dark. Is that letting the bad guys win? I don't think it is so much as it's realizing what could happen if I throw caution to the wind, and that, frankly, sucks. It shouldn't be this way.

I think men often take for granted the fact that they can, most of the time, go from Point A to Point B without being disturbed. For women, it's different. And maybe some of the men who catcall and try to approach women on the street don't realize that what they're doing, for many women under a variety of conditions, will make another person feel afraid. This isn't a challenge they have to face, and certainly one I don't like thinking about. When I think about days like yesterday, I wonder if I can make it going to and from work alone in the real world. I wonder if I can be brave enough to go on the train or the subway by myself. The minority-- and I do believe it's a minority-- of people out there who want to hurt or scare people like me make me doubt my abilities as a woman to be an effective member of society.

We are asking ourselves frequently now "should we allow women in warzones?" and I have to ask "why should there be any reason not to?" But when I think of that much bigger issue-- the horrible things that have actually transpired-- together with the littler things we as woman face daily, like I faced yesterday, I see the problem. There are men in this world who feel on some level that women are objects, that it is okay to come on to them, to harass them, to hurt them, to grope them, to make them, by way of sexualization, feel powerless and less than. And it's not okay. Never. Not even when nothing comes of it, like what happened to me yesterday. Not even a little.

Privilege exerts itself in a lot of insidious ways, and this is one of them. If women feel unsafe walking down the street, how can they be leaders? How can they be journalists? How can they be taxi drivers? How can they be government officials? How can they be anything? Maybe they should just stay inside where it's safe.

I don't know about you, but I don't want that to be the only safe choice.

Have you ever been catcalled or otherwise harassed in the streets? How did it make you feel? Did it make you change your routine?

[Check out the Hollaback! Movement, a group that's pushing to end street harassment. There are a lot of Hollaback blogs for different cities and countries-- you can start here to find some or Google "Hollaback" plus your city's name]

Why I Read Men's Journal

2011-03-22T12:11:00.000-04:00

As you might expect if you've been reading this blog for any length of time, I'm not a huge fan of the lady-mags. We're all familiar with the way magazines targeted at women are written, and I think most of us could write one ourselves if given the opportunity. You need an article about what men want in bed, an article about how to lose weight (hint: the answer will always be diet and exercise, but you have to make it sound like you're revealing a secret), an article about something chocolatey that you shouldn't be eating, an article about the really Photoshopped 20-something on the cover, and something about fashion for all sizes that will really be more like fashion for a variety of shapes within the size range of 0-10. Sigh.

I used to really enjoy reading lady-mags at the gym. Other than when I go to Barnes and Noble, this is really the only time I pick up Cosmo and the like, which is quite all right with me. Recently when I was at the gym, though, there were no "good" magazines-- and by that I mean no silly, trite issue of Cosmo or Redbook, no People or US with terrible and awesome bikini bodies. It was a dilemma. So I did something I hadn't done in awhile: pick up Men's Journal.

You guys, I am a convert.

Now I know a lot of men would definitely argue that men's magazines enforce beauty standards for men-- being big and buff rather than slender and fragile-- and I won't say that isn't true. But I have to say, honestly, even the spin that Men's Journal put on their diet and exercise articles is a lot more palatable than what I see in the typical Women's Fitness and the like. The fitness articles in the men's magazines I've read-- men's magazines, I have to note, that are not specifically body-building rags-- are actually fantastic. They emphasize the pursuit of actual fitness and strength rather than the kind of body you're aiming to achieve, or at the very least they tend to say things like "this exercise is healthy for you and you'll also get abs" instead of "do crunches, get skinny!" (Note that the cover I used for this post's picture advertises a "high-performance" breakfast-- not a low-calorie breakfast or the like).

I picked up an issue that featured vegan athletes, and the article turned out to be really interesting. In a women's publication I imagine this kind of article would, again, put a large focus on athletes getting trim, but instead it emphasized the scientific aspects of veganism and how it helps build healthier muscle and sustain your energy levels.

There was an amazing piece on Michael Douglas, and it was just so refreshing to see a person on the cover not dressed up in pretty clothes and scrutinized over their weight loss or gain or their romantic interests. Any talk of Douglas and his looks or relationships seemed to directly relate to the narrative the journalist was trying to create, rather than being an essential talking-point just because.

I loved seeing a football-player dressed up in tweed and the like in a photospread, but that might just be me. (You might argue that for a men's magazine, this is the equivalent of a super-thin model, simply because conceptions of the ideal vary by gender. Men idolize big sports players and women idolize models. I'm sure this does have some effect on the male readership).

Also, the ads. Oh, the ads! So good! One that stood out to me was an ad for almonds. Let me explain: this ad featured a man riding a bike and a caption about how almonds give you the heart to perform. All I could think about when I saw this ad was how many lady-mags I've seen that have but one thing to say about almonds: they keep you full so you can be skinny! Celebrity X eats a handful of almonds for breakfast every day! Almonds-- not for your health, for your waistline! ALMONDS WILL MAKE YOU THIN! No, none of that crap here. Almonds are good, healthy fuel for your body. Overall, there was a general lack of beauty and weight loss products-- there may have been a protein powder or two, but the subliminal messages weren't nearly as common.

So this may just be a giant rant about how in love I suddenly am with Men's Journal. I pick it up every time I'm in the gym now, and it's truly fantastic. I love that the writing isn't fluff, that it's political and scientific and informative and deep. I love that it doesn't shove beauty standards down my throat-- and that it seems, at least from my female perspective, to not pressure men to look a certain way quite as much as some other man-targeted magazines. I actually just checked out their Mind and Body section online and it seems to have some awesome articles: Meditation! Workout playlists! Jack LaLanne! Microbes!

I found looking at Men's Journal empowering-- but disappointing at the same time. Women need something like this. I think many of the female-targeted publications really fall short of their potential to be critical and fun. Women like to think-- we do. We don't only care about celebrities and the new diet craze. We deserve a better magazine industry. There are small publications that are doing great things, I'm sure, but the majority of what I see on the newsstands isn't all that engaging, and it underestimates us. We'll get what we demand, and though men's magazines as a whole are certainly not without fault (some are quite misogynistic and macho, don't get me wrong), it seems that they do a lot more intelligent, well-rounded coverage. Maybe it's part of the idea that men are "everyone" and women are "the rest"-- but either way, we need to start asking for more, because it's out there. It's possible. And publications like these are the ones deserving of support, not the ones that encourage people to feel bad about themselves for a buck.

The easiest way to vote is to vote with your wallet. Buy only the glossies that you feel good about.

I tell you, fellow ladies, I will never (okay, maybe very occasionally) pick up a lady-mag again-- and I will certainly never pay for one. As soon as that Vogue subscription runs out, I know what I'm replacing it with.

So I ask you: have you ever picked up a men's magazine? What did you think? Why did you like it-- or why not?

Whoa, What? An Update?

2011-03-14T16:59:00.001-04:00

Oh hey! Have you forgotten about me yet? Because I didn't forget you!

I know I've been gone awhile now, and I'm being weighed down by a metric crapton of work, but I just wanted to say really quickly that Chicken Soup for the Dorky Soul is not dead and that I will be resuming posting at some point, hopefully within the week when things calm down a bit. The combo of senior year with my internship has really done a number on the time I get to post actually thoughtful things here, and despite the fact that I've written about blogging on a strict schedule in the past, it just isn't happening for me at the moment. I'm realizing that with graduation/a real job (pretty, pretty please) impending that I may have to rethink the five days a week schedule I'd been doing for awhile, but I will fight tooth and nail to keep this blog up and running, even if it updates a little bit less frequently as my life gets more hectic.

I made you a video, though! Just something really quickly, but I wanted to say thanks and I figured I always wonder what bloggers actually sound like, so it's a special treat for you to hear my nasally little voice! (Song playing in the background is "Runnin' Round the World" by Pete & J)

Also, I've been getting way behind on e-mail-- due in special part to some technical difficulties-- so if you e-mailed me I'll try to get back to you soon without getting too discouraged by the guilt of taking such a long time.

Untitled from Vanessa Formato on Vimeo.

Does My Butt Look Big In This? The Answer is Yes OR The F-Word You Need to Stop Dreading

2011-02-10T14:02:00.004-05:00

found here

I've been thinking for awhile about working as a nude art model. My college usually has openings for people who are paid to stand really still while naked because I don't think it's a terribly popular job. My boyfriend is a really, really talented artist (in all seriousness but he probably wouldn't want me showing you his art here) and one months back we had a conversation about art models. It probably went something like this, but with a lot more sarcasm and insults because part of the success of our relationship is the dedication we have to constantly antagonizing one another.

"We always have to draw the same two girls because there aren't many models for the art classes," he said.

"You should model," I replied.

"You wouldn't want me to."

"No, I wouldn't. I don't think I'd be comfortable with other people seeing you naked."

"Well I wouldn't want to, either."

"I should do it."

"Go ahead."

"What?"

"Go ahead."

"You wouldn't care if other people saw me naked?"

"Not really. I used to get jealous and stuff but I wouldn't care now. It's not like it's sexual or anything. You'd know if you'd actually ever been to one of these classes."

"You wouldn't care?" I paused. "Well then I'm going to do it."

"Fine."

Driven by rage at my boyfriend's reasonable, supportive attitude and my deep-seated desire to take an opportunity to be nude in front of strangers I started to check it out. I really wanted to do this. Well, as much as anyone can want to without having tried it. Yesterday I sent an e-mail asking about openings. I haven't heard back yet, and I'm a bit nervous about what happens if I get a "yes." I'd want to do it and it's paid, but what if the moment comes where I'm standing in the middle of a circle of easels and the professor says "okay, take off the robe and get on the platform" and I just freeze and can't do it? Because you never know.

Anyway, my nervousness aside, part of what appeals to me-- other than proving to my boyfriend that I'm totally going to do it and he should stop being so reasonable and supportive about me showing my body to people in a nonsexual manner in a professional environment-- is the idea of making a statement with my nudity. According to my boyfriend, other than an old woman and an old man, the models for these classes are mostly thin young women. I'm not a thin young woman. I'm fat.

Say it with me: Vanessa is fat.

It's okay, you can say it. It's a description word, not a swear, not a slur, as much as some people want to hurt others with it. That's what I am. My thighs and butt are big. My bra could house small watermelons. My tummy is round and bulges and has a few stretch marks. My physique in general isn't exactly smooth. I'm round and short. I'm fat. That's me. It's no big deal.

What this is to me is an opportunity to shamelessly show a different body type to people who might not see it every day. A lot of people haven't-- and maybe don't want to-- see someone fat in the nude. But plenty of people have "imperfect" bodies and those bodies are just as worthy of being immortalized on canvas as any other kind. In fact I think for artists it's important to learn to depict many different kinds of figures. With thin figures there are certain challenges and with fat figures there are others.

I also see a possible opportunity to do this as another step in my constant effort to love my body as it is, even if I sometimes there are things I wish were different about it. I want to have this experience as a way to tell myself I'm okay how I am, and to reinforce that I really do think that. I don't need to hide my body. My body is no less worthy than anyone else's because of its size. The job would also be a test, though, because I would be seeing full-body depictions of myself through objective lenses. Some artists in the class as far as I hear are extremely talented and others are new and not-so-skilled. I'll have to see my body as depicted by each kind of artist as s/he sees it.

This was my boyfriend's concern, especially after a debacle we had recently about a portrait he did of my face that I wasn't too fond of (he's still getting used to drawing faces from live models).

"You know," he said, "they're going to show you how you actually look. They're not necessarily going to try to flatter you."

"I know," I said, eating a sandwich at his desk.

"Well, I mean, like, if you do a pose where you have..." He looks at me awkwardly, stumbles.

"If I have what? Rolls?"

"Uh, yeah. They'll show that. You have to be ready to see yourself how you look."

"How's that?" I watch him expectantly. He doesn't want to say the word. I know what word he's wanted to say this whole time. I use the word often enough. He reads my blog for God's sake. But it's stuck on the tip of his tongue.

"You can say it," I tell him. Nothing. "I'm fat."

"I never know if I'm allowed to say it," he says, embarrassed.

"Well I'm thinking since I've been at least relatively fat this whole three years you've been dating me and you see me naked on a regular basis you're okay with me being fat. It's not an insult, it's a descriptor."

It's a little amusing to watch him struggle to not insult me. He's been taught that "fat" is a word a girl never wants to hear-- that when a woman asks if her butt looks big you always say "no" even if the butt in question is unquestionably large. Some people's butts are big. If we all had the same size everything we wouldn't be having this conversation. My boyfriend has been taught that as a man he should never tell me I'm fat because I don't want to hear it-- and surely a lot of women don't. But it's time we got over it and took control.

So for the last time, dear readers, dear everyone, I'm fat. I'm okay with that. You can even say it out loud because it doesn't break my heart. I'm not saying you should all stop worrying about this supposedly-terrible word right away and quit the discomfort cold turkey, but start getting over it. Really, I'm serious. If people want to tell you you're fat, then fine. Is that the worst thing to be? No. If you're not fat and they're saying it as an insult (as an insult to you or anyone else, for that matter), tell them it's not cool and that fat isn't a dirty word. Tell them to stop using it to hurt people because it isn't something to be ashamed of. And if you are fat and someone says it? Well, just say "yes" and move on with your life. If you're fat, accept it as part of what you look like just like your eye color. I know this is hard and it's not a transformation that happens overnight, but think of how great it'd be to hear the word "fat" and not get depressed about it. It's awesome. For me, accepting my current weight is a huge part of engaging in a healthier, happier lifestyle.

Fat is not a four-letter-word.

On Secret Admiring and First Love Lost

2011-02-08T10:42:00.006-05:00

the berry

Brian Jacques, the author of the Redwall book series, died on February 7th, 2011. As a child, I really loved these stories about little animals valiantly fighting wars and doing courageous deeds. I had almost the entire series, though I don't think I got around to reading all of them. This, however, is not the point. When I heard that Jacques had died it brought up some memories that I haven't thought about in a very long time, and I wanted to share that with you.

When I was in the second grade there was a little brown-haired boy with a bowl cut-- we all knew one, though, didn't we? His name was Matt and he was one of my closest friends. I was one of his only friends. He was a little shy, for starters, and everyone thought it was weird that he didn't want to celebrate Halloween. He had a Bible in his desk next to his copy of Martin the Warrior, his favorite Redwall book. He read those two books almost exclusively during reading time.

He was also weird because he didn't have a dad. His father had died of cancer and for whatever reason-- the cruelty of young, naive children-- this was another thing he was targeted. People made fun of him because he didn't have a dad. I imagine now that the teasing was more out of the lack of an ability to understand what all that meant. I like to think that now these same kids would never taunt someone for losing a parent, but back then that's how it was. Matt was ostracized for being awkward, insecure, and fatherless.

But I liked Matt. I liked him liked him. We talked about his books and played pretend during recess. We were brave, strong wolves back then and would sit beneath the bushes fleshing out our mythology. We probably got along so well because I was a little strange, too, but mostly just nerdy. Though I had several good friends of my own, it was he and I who formed a pack and thus it was my job to protect him. It didn't feel like a betrayal, though, that I drafted dozens of letters from "your secret admirer" to slip in his cubby when he wasn't looking. I'm sure the letters told him how cute he was and that I liked his hair and his smarts and check "yes" or "no" do you love me, too? Love, your secret admirer. He'd never guess even if I'd wanted him to.

My girl friends were jealous of Matt. I spent a lot of time with him, often favoring quiet recesses with him over jump rope or four square (I was woefully uncoordinated anyway). One afternoon as these girls and I played tag, I noticed Matt sitting by himself. He was crying.

"I'm going to go play with Matt," I said (probably-- I obviously don't remember exactly). "I think he's crying."

"You can't go," one of the girls said.

"You play with him too much. Just because you love him," another chimed.

"You never play with us anymore," the first continued. "You don't even like us, do you? You don't like us anymore, Vanessa?"

"I like you," I said, "but I need to go help him."

"If you go over there," said my best friend at the time, "we won't be friends with you anymore. You'll be out of the group and you'll be alone."

I was faced with the most difficult decision of my eight years. Would I be loyal to my own sex, my girl friends, or this boy I liked? He was my friend, yes, but in second grade boys were like aliens-- maybe not to be trusted, certainly not friends. At the very least they weren't the most important kind of friend.

So I took a deep breath.

And I left to see Matt. I'm not sure how he didn't know I loved him.

He found out soon enough.

I don't remember how it happened exactly. All I know is one afternoon he discovered one of my notes, one I had foolishly, boldly signed "your secret admirer, Vanessa." I had obviously missed the point of secret admiring. Matt confronted me about it. Instead of an outpouring of previously-hidden love I was met with anger and confusion. He didn't want me to be his secret admirer. He didn't like it, not one bit. Looking back, I think what I experienced was an early version of being Friend Zoned. I started to cry.

Our teacher took us out into the hall when she noticed the commotion.

"It's nice to have a secret admirer," she explained to Matt. "It means that someone likes you very much. It's a compliment."

He didn't want one. I was still sobbing out of sadness and burning embarrassment.

"You two are very good friends," she continued. "I see you play all the time. This note is very nice, and it doesn't change anything. You can still be friends."

We were not friends. Not ever again.

Suddenly we didn't talk. We didn't make eye-contact. When the grade-wide games of capture-the-flag started, boys versus girls, he'd silently stalk the line between our sides without a word or a sidelong glance. But he'd stay near where I was, a constant reminder of my failure.

I didn't understand. I had been his friend when no one else liked him. I had talked to him about his books. I didn't tease him. I let him talk about his dad in the rare moments when he wanted to open up about the loss. We had been a wolf pack together, just us two. I had gone to him when my friends finally gave me an ultimatum. When given a choice, I chose to be there for him. It didn't make sense-- even when one of my girl friends (they hadn't really abandoned me that day) explained my mistake.

"Boys our age aren't ready for love," she said. "You have to wait until they're mature, like in the fourth grade." Sage advice.

Fourth grade came and went and he still didn't love me. In fact, we hadn't talked since second grade.

For the rest of my life-- up until now-- we only talked once after the day he saw the letter.

It was 10th grade. My gym class was asked to play baseball against his. I had somehow actually hit a baseball-- I was still woefully uncoordinated and horrible at sports-- and gotten to second base. Matt was the second baseman, just my luck. We awkwardly avoided eye-contact.

Suddenly my team was yelling at me. "Run to third, run to third!"

For whatever reason I was bewildered. I didn't want to run. I was slow and I couldn't make it I was sure. My teammates were mad now and my cheeks were hot.

"It's okay," he said suddenly. I saw him smile. "It's just a game."

What was your first crush like? Have you ever sent a secret admirer letter?

Letters to Akon (with a Little Taste of Monday Music)

2011-02-07T15:23:00.001-05:00

Dear Akon,

I will have you know that I have never had any intention to like you. Somehow, though, you always find your way into my life.

There I am, listening to the radio on my way to work because I forgot my mp3 player, and I hear a song I really like. I bob my head and sing along a bit. I don't know what this song is yet. When I go home a Google search the lyrics and nine times out of 10 that song is by you. I don't know how this keeps happening. I don't consider myself any kind of avid R&B fan or anything. I would never picture myself saying aloud "you know who I really like? Akon." That's just not "me," you know? But every time there you are with a catchy song that I inevitably resist for awhile on principle and then download.

I don't want to like you.

But then I saw this. (NSFW due to subject matter, but you probably assumed that anyway).

Goddammit, Akon.

See, I have this principle: if you're a cool enough guy to laugh at yourself and appear in a Lonely Island video, you're okay with me (this means you, T-Pain, but you're already so self-deprecating that I've loved you for ages). I give up. You got me. You win.

Maybe I kinda like you, Akon.

xoxoxo,
Vanessa

What musicians do you hate to admit you like? Spill it! I know you have one!

Results May Vary

2011-02-02T18:03:00.000-05:00

mal'va

*Amazing reader Chelsea started a Tumblr inspired by Love 365! I'm so, so flattered and thrilled. It's really awesome and you should check it out!

*Are you all psyched-up for the Puppy Bowl? It's happening this Sunday at 3 PM on Animal Planet. If you won't go for the puppies, go for the kitten half-time show. (P.S. If you're in the market for a pet, these fuzzy football players are all shelter animals looking for a loving home!)

*For as little as $11, you can help an Indian girl go to school instead of be sold into sexual slavery. The Girl Store gives you the opportunity to purchase essentials like books and uniforms to help give children a chance at a brighter future.

tiny dream

*Gena at Choosing Raw addresses the phrase "cruelty free." What does it really mean?

*One of the saddest things I've realized is that I'm 22 and will never dance like these incredible 8- and 9-year-olds.

*I've been hanging on to this since Thanksgiving and never incorporated into a Results May Vary. Maybe it's not "timely" anymore, but it's poignant nonetheless. Give thanks.

weheartit

*The Lawrence/Julia & Julia Project is the unexpectedly hilarious blog in which a man chronicles an entire year of watching the movie Julia & Julia every damn day.

*Do we overprioritize health in our culture? Two women's studies professors say yes. (Also check out this post on the real issues we deal with when we talk about obesity).

*I laughed until I cried.

*Oh, and finally, do check out the Post Punk Kitchen for scrumptious vegan recipes. I just got three of their cookbooks because I'm hoping to transition from lacto-ovo vegetarian to vegan over the summer, and because I've tried their peanut butter cupcakes and absolutely died (my omnivorous boyfriend claimed they were the best cupcakes he'd ever tasted). Incredible, seriously. So check out their recipes-- even if you're not vegan.

(left is the view from my window. right is the view from my dorm's kitchen. are you enjoying the snowpocalypse?)~

These are some of the things I'm loving lately, but results may vary. Tell me what you think in the comments!

Forcible

2011-01-31T00:00:00.007-05:00

trapped inside a memory

[NOTE: This post discusses rape, so if this is triggering for you, I'd suggest you not read it.]

Some of you may have already heard the news. There's a new bill in town and it's on its way to the House. It's called the "No Taxpayer Funding for Abortion Act" (H.R.3). You can read the bill itself here, but to broadly sum it up, the bill aims to put a stop on health insurance-- really of any kind at all-- covering abortions. It's an insidious bill because by making abortion unobtainable, it will make it as good as illegal, but without every specifically doing so (it's an evil loophole). While, as a pro-choice woman, I see this as a terrible prospect in and of itself in this world where the right wing doesn't want sex education, either (gee, think of how many unwanted pregnancies might be avoided of people were educated about safe sex and how to use birth control!), the bill contains something else as sinister, if not moreso, than just the intention to erode a woman's right to choose.

Sec. 309 states that abortions will only be covered for women who are "the subject of an act of forcible rape, or, in a minor, an act of incest." It also goes on to say that women will be covered if death (but not other serious damages to health) is a serious risk if the pregnancy is continued, but did you see that? Did you see what they did there. Let me show you.

"Forcible rape."

If you're somewhat sane and educated, your first reaction that phrase is probably something like "but wait, Vanessa, all rape is forcible in that it is sexual intercourse with a person against his or her will, right?" Oh, well, see apparently you'd be wrong there. Apparently some people's trauma is more valid than others.

If we allow a bill like this-- with wording like this-- to pass, we will be a huge blow to rape survivors. Forcible rape does not include statutory rape, coercion, or intoxication. If you were drunk at a party and you had sex (you can't legally consent while under the influence) and regretted it, too bad. It's not enough. If an abuser threatens you to have sex with him and you give in, it's not enough. If he was 35 and you are 15, that's not enough, either. To boot, if you're 18 and a victim of incest, that's also not rape because you're legal. The only rape that counts is the "forcible" kind that you see on Law and Order: SVU where someone is holding you down and you fight back. If that wasn't how it happened, you don't count and your right to choose if you want any resulting children is gone.

But the abortion isn't the main issue to me. If we allow legislation like this to pass, we allow the government to decide whose pain is valid. We run the risk of even more rape survivors' experiences going unvalidated. We run the risk of rape cases being thrown out because they weren't harrowing enough. No one should have the right to take away what you feel.

If it feels like you were raped, you were raped. It doesn't matter how it happened. It isn't a contest. It doesn't matter if your experience wasn't as rough or life-threatening as the next person's. Rape is already a violation of a person's bodily autonomy. Rape, in all its forms, is a despicable act of violence. No one deserves rape. No one "asks for it." No one but you gets to decide if you wanted it or not. Abortion is an issue of bodily autonomy and so is rape. I believe that whether you support a woman's right to choose whether she wants to keep a pregnancy or not you should, as a decent human being, fight this bill.

Maybe John Boehner and the other representatives don't know someone who's been raped. Maybe they don't realize that no matter how it happened, it hurts, and what hurts even worse than the event itself is the cold world these survivors walk into. For many of these survivors, it still seems like their trauma was their fault somehow. It still seems like something they can't talk about, even with close friends. It's a source of shame. And some, surely, change their stances on abortion when faced with an unwanted pregnancy due to the attack. Maybe if Boehner and the rest of the representatives supporting this bill had a sister or wife or girlfriend or mother who had been raped-- even "non-forcibly"-- they would be more sympathetic. It's hard to tell.

This is the part where I tell you what you need to do.

Please, I beg of you, write or call your representative. That link will help you find out who yours is and how to get in touch. My boyfriend and I have already contacted ours.

On Twitter, people are using the hashtag #dearjohn to voice their disgust with H.R.3 (direct tweets to @johnboehner).

But mostly, contact your representative. I know talking to strangers can be scary-- I don't really like calling people I don't know, to be honest-- but it's necessary right now. Be polite and keep your cool. I know you're all very intelligent people and have plenty to say. Your voice really does matter, and maybe if there's an outpouring of concern about this bill, it will be stopped. Better yet, maybe that outpouring can help stop something like this from being proposed again.

We have the right to say "no," and that right should be honored.

EDIT: Feministing did a great post about this bill and its implications that you should check out if you're interested.

The Problem with Pretty

2011-01-20T19:48:00.000-05:00

This video has been going around the Internet for awhile now, so I'm surely not be the first person you've seen posting it. I found this piece extremely powerful in a way that I think many of you will have when you first gave it a listen. We are women, too, and many of us have felt what Makkai felt as she awoke from her surgery so deeply that perhaps we won't stop to really consider what she's saying. There is more here than a celebration of women and their true potential.

We are at once constantly and rarely thinking of Pretty. "Pretty" is a word that bounces around between our ears, ringing shrilly, whether we are Pretty or not. We begin our lives worrying about Pretty. Pretty is a word our parents lavish upon us or say too little. It is a word that strangers use to acknowledge us as children. It is a word that represents a warm camp near the summit, a lesser one than Beautiful, perhaps. It is a word like candy that makes us glitter with excitement but leaves our stomachs emptier than before. Pretty is not as fulfilling as we want to believe it to be. We don't think about Pretty deeply enough.

Like Makkai says, we should strive to be so much more than simply Pretty. It isn't wrong to want to be beautiful, but our society has placed Pretty on a pedestal at the expense of our sometimes delicate psyches. You can want to be Pretty-- I won't try to take that desire away from you. It isn't a crime, you know. But there is so much more than that to us. We have hearts and brains-- things that can be unequivocally Beautiful in a way that will always outshine a Pretty face.

Pretty makes us insecure and overly competitive. It sits just inside our ear and whispers as we scan the faces in a crowd. It asks us to hold our heads high when the people around us don't meet the same aesthetic standards. It encourages a heinous undercurrent of jealousy among women when we should be comrades in the fight for our self-esteem. Pretty girls walk into rooms and we protect ourselves by doubting her intelligence-- you cannot be smart and Pretty without repercussions. "At least I'm Prettier than her" we say when we see our ex's new girlfriend. And like Makkai, we are always falling somehow short. There will always be doubt. There is never perfection.

Beauty is a wonderful thing, but Pretty can be damaging when it is held up as the holy grail of womanhood. It turns us against each other in a world where we all battle Lookism. We are so much more than the symmetry of our faces. Sometimes we forget. Sometimes we say "you're lucky you're Pretty" in a way that undercuts ourselves or demonizes the other-- we assume that Pretty can carry you through, that Pretty can make life simple, that Pretty can bring you happiness. While sometimes these things are true, like most other stereotypes they are overwhelmingly not. And even if they are true what good do we do ourselves to reinforce these standards by fighting so hard to be Pretty? When we don't try to see Pretty as unimportant, we help it to remain too important.

Many Beautiful people are Pretty. Many of those Beautiful people are not. And that's okay, because Pretty is relative. Pretty, in the eyes of our culture, fizzles and fades as we grow old, accumulate weight, scars, gray hairs. Cultures' aesthetic values change over time, too. Pretty is this nebulous concept that none of us can really pin down anyway-- Pretty is different to everyone, and that's a fact. Pretty just does not last. It can't. When little girls are taught to dream of being Pretty, they are taught to dream of something they can only achieve in passing-- and what are they left with when it's gone? What are they left with when Pretty is out of reach? Or if Pretty alienates them from their peers? Or becomes an obsession? What are they left with when Pretty is the only thing worthwhile in a world where you can be anything?

So dream of being greater things than simply Pretty, because you deserve to be Beautiful.

Hard Words

2011-01-18T12:00:00.002-05:00

here

"Speak what you think today in hard words and tomorrow speak what tomorrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict everything you said today."

--Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Self-Reliance"

Things I Learned In My Two-Week-Long Absence

2011-01-17T12:00:00.000-05:00

(i am using this picture for this post because i was also snowed-in twice in the past month.)

All right. So. I disappeared for awhile. I've felt really guilty about it, but the couple of weeks have been something of a whirlwind of events and things just got away from me. It wasn't all bad, though, other than the fact that I missed you! I learned some stuff. For instance:

Wireless Routers Have Expiration Dates

This was my main reason for being away for a week. I've been complaining since winter break started that my Internet access was shoddy at best, but a recent call to Comcast and some further investigation confirmed that our wireless router is dead. Done. Kaput. It is a late router. Did you know routers only last 3-6 years on average and then they die? I didn't, but it's the truth. So I'm at my boyfriend's house typing this post.

Without the Internet, I Go Crazy

Being without it felt like this.

Traveling Six Hours for a 10 Minute Interview Can Be Worthwhile

Oh, hey, you guys! I got an internship for the spring semester! I'm dropping a class and replacing it with an internship with Worcester Magazine, a lifestyle/arts and entertainment magazine. I found out about the opportunity to get the position out of the blue, and in a whirlwind of events I ended up hitching a ride to a train station an hour away to take a half-an-hour train ride to Worcester, where I caught a cab and did a very brief interview that landed me, amazingly enough, an internship. It was a long, long day because from Worcester to my home there are always huge overlays between trains. Fortunately for me, it wasn't a complete waste of time and money.

Making Friends With Professors is a Good Idea

Halfway through my interview for my position with Worcester Magazine, the editor asked me if I knew James Dempsey. I do-- he's a professor of mine that I visit with relatively frequently and who I view as a sort of mentor. When he found out I was applying to Worcester Magazine, he sent a very kind e-mail on my behalf imploring the editor-- who I didn't know was a friend of his-- to hire me. She told me that his vote of confidence really helped me get the job, so it just goes to show that you never know who can help you out. And then he asked me if I'd work with him on his news website, Worcester Wired, which I'm really excited about.

There is No Such Thing as Too Much Top Gear

In my down time I've been watching a lot of Top Gear, which is a British car show that is simply hilarious. I'm not into cars at all-- really, I'm not. If I ever get a car, I want a Hyundai Elantra because they're small enough for me and the one I drive now is the best our family's ever had. I am not a car person, but you don't have to be to love Top Gear. If you're into dry humor and bumbling Brits, check out some of their specials, like this one, in which they drive and dog sled to the North Pole.

I Learned How to Play Mahjong

I am incredibly boring. The end.

Okay, so, anyway, I am back in my dorm room at Clark getting ready to start my final semester of college, and we have Internet here. It's going to be a busy semester, but I'll be able to post again now that I have reliable Internet access. Yay! I have some posts I'm working on, so it should be business as usual very soon.

How have you been? I missed you!

Monday Music: The Kin

2011-01-03T14:29:00.001-05:00

The Kin is one of those bands that you should be listening to. I hadn't heard of them until last winter: The Kin was one of two opening acts for Joshua Radin when I went to see him in concert. Everyone is a little bit skeptical of the opening band. A lot of us assume that they'll be mediocre, or at least not nearly as good as the act we came for.

As soon as they got on stage and began to sing the room went dead silent. The audience for a Joshua Radin concert probably won't be that rowdy anyway, but I've never been to a performance where you could hear a pin drop-- let alone for the opening act. Issaac and Thorry Koren's voices are gorgeous. They play didjeridu. Their lyrics tell stories. They command a room through talent alone. As much as I love Joshua Radin, I can say that I would have been completely satisfied if their act was the only one I got to see that night. And again, there was something so lovely about that silence.

(this one has didjeridu)

What's the best concert you've been to? The best opening act?

Love 365: Day 359 - 365

2010-12-31T13:01:00.001-05:00

weheartit

I love that I loving my body is getting easier all the time.

I love my propensity for dreaming big.

I love that I am fiercely independent.

I love my willingness to sacrifice for others.

I love my OCD because in its own way it makes me a stronger person.

I love that I let myself feel sad when I need to be. It helps me appreciate all the good times.

I love myself.

--Me

******

I love that I'm a clothes horse.

I love that I'm strong-willed.

--Luke

******

- I love that I'm not afraid to stand up for what I believe in

- I love my green eyes

- I love my dancer's legs

- I love my hair, in all of it's wild, crazy, curly glory

- I love that I have different opinions from most of the people in my high school, and I love that I don't make apologies for it.

- I love my long neck and collarbone.

--Luinae, Slam

******

"I love that I can make pad thai! I love cooking, and I've tried all kinds of recipes and cuisines, but I would consider pad thai to be my first "signature" dish. My fiance and I both love Asian food, and it's pretty satisfying to be able to whip up a flavorful, (somewhat) authentic dish without having to go out. It makes me feel pretty awesome to have mastered a dish like that!"

--Laura, Ruby Bastille, Average Fantastic

******

- I love that I pursued debating even though I was deadly afraid of it in the beginning.

- I love that I am learning that I don't have to be interested in everything people I admire are.

- I love that I am the best speaker of the Beginner's Debate Tournament.

- I love that I don't have a problem with P.D.A.

- I love that I am realizing what kind of people should I surround myself with.

- I love that I am not competitive.

--D., Sucker for Happy Endings

******

I love that I take my time to commit to things, but that when I am truly committed, I do things thoroughly.

I love that I do my research before making big purchases.

I love that I'm building the habit of drinking more water.

--Chelsea

******

Well, you guys, that's it! We're done! One year ago, I started this little self-love project, and I can hardly believe it's over. Thank you so much to every one of you who's submitted and commented on these posts or even just looked at them! I'm grateful to all of you for making this a really awesome experience!

Want to share some thoughts on Love 365? What did you like about it? Things that could have been done better? Any ideas for a new self-love project for 2011?

Letters to 2011

2010-12-30T12:00:00.000-05:00

sander copier

Dear 2011,

I have high expectations for you, I hope you know.

2010 was pretty darn good. I turned 21-- rather unceremoniously, but with awesomely funny gifts from my lovely roommate. I did an internship and got for-real published for the very first time, and seeing your name in print is pretty priceless, even if you have to cringe because you caught a typo. My boyfriend and I celebrated three years together by going to an art museum, coming home early, and ordering takeout from the Middle Eastern restaurant down the street. I resisted the urge to spend a lot of money. I got my first straight-A's of college. I found a professor who I truly consider a mentor. I became a vegetarian, and I can't even believe I didn't do it sooner. I discovered The Weepies and listened to them obsessively. There were low points, of course, but for the most part I was happy and healthy and had a lot of fun. Yes, indeed, you were a good year.

So, 2011, you have quite a bit to live up to. There are so many things I want this year to be. In 2011, I will turn 22-- probably unceremoniously once again-- and I will graduate from Clark University, the place I've called home for four years. I'm warning you now, I'm going to cry like a baby the last time I pack up my dorm and drive away from Worcester. I hope I find a job that I can be excited about doing what I love. I hope my boyfriend and I will be able to move out of our parents' homes and live in a cramped apartment just outside of Boston and take the T every day, him to law school and me to work, and come home feeling exhausted and content. I hope it will be a year of making dreams come true. I hope it will be a year of proving to myself and to the world that I am ready to grow up, but not too much, because I will still sometimes pretend I am a robot and dance in my underwear and play in the snow.

I hope 2011 is a year in which people begin striving harder than ever to understand themselves and each other. I hope for every day of 2011 each of us will harbor a little less ill-will, until someday, maybe a long time from now, we won't hurt each other. I hope that people will recycle more and eat even just a little bit less meat because our world is so, so beautiful and needs our help. I hope in 2011 people will love, and love, and love so hard that it hurts, so hard that they learn the meaning of it, and deeply, too. I hope that people will live for themselves, proudly.

I hope, 2011, that you will be the best year yet for everyone.

xoxo,
Vanessa

How was your 2010? What were the highs? The lows? How do you hope 2011 will compare?

Random Things I Like: Boston

2010-12-29T12:00:00.002-05:00

anthony shea

lost in boston

pear biter

here

winter and daisies

werner kunz

shirt.woot!

I love Boston because of the crazy-colored seats on the T and the overly-brazen pigeons. I love it because The North End positively sings and the theater district is warm and welcoming. I love it because of the ancient relics at the Museum of Fine Arts and the lightning shows at The Museum of Science and those adorable penguins at The New England Aquarium. I love it because of Cheers!, especially the show (I watched a lot of Nick at Nite as a youngster). I love it because East Boston has Santarpio's, which is a complete and utter dive that serves the most incredible pizza in the world, bar none. I love it because walking through Boston Common will make anything better. I love it because the people are simultaneously the rudest and nicest characters you'll ever meet.

I love Boston because this is the city that I grew up believing was dirty and magical and dangerous and beautiful and the hub of the whole world.

What's your favorite city? Why do you love it?

Reflections on Love 365

2010-12-28T12:00:00.001-05:00

weheartit

The days of Love 365 are numbered. This Friday, it will be over. Sure, some of the posts got up shamefully late, but I will have kept my New Year's resolution to think of something new to love about myself for every single day of 2010.

Last December, when I got the idea for Love 365, I was skeptical that I would ever actually do it. I had written a post mentioning the idea of doing something similar as a resolution, and somehow it just clicked for me that, hey, I should put my money where my mouth is and do that. I felt that it would seem too narcissistic to do it alone, though: I needed to get all of you involved if it was going to work. Of course, at the time that was my main fear: what if no one wanted to participate. I called my boyfriend to ask him about it, and he encouraged me to go for it even if I wasn't sure anyone would want to join me in my self-love fest.

You guys, I am so, so glad I decided to go through with it. I've never kept a New Year's resolution before, and this was the best one I think I could have picked, and for several reasons.

Love 365 has been a godsend in those times when I don't feel so self-assured. The best days to have to love myself have, surprisingly, been the days when I really just didn't want to. There have been days when the last thing I would have wanted was to think of something nice to say, but having this commitment to keep made it completely necessary. I learned that in those times of feeling lousy about myself, one of the best things to do was just try my best to think of something nice. It was hard, but afterward, my mood was at least slightly improved and things didn't seem so bad. It's the times when we feel the worst that we need the love the most. I learned that I am very capable of giving myself love when I need it.

Now, I have a positively huge collection of wonderful things about me-- again, sounds a bit narcissistic, but is it really such a bad thing? When I feel down, I can look back at the posts on this blog or in my notebook at all the things that I have, at one time or another, felt makes me worthy, valuable, and lovable. I have a way of reminding myself that I don't need to be the girl who hurts her own feelings. I don't think anyone else should do that to themselves, and I don't deserve it, either.

Doing Love 365 proved something wonderful to me about you, too. I was afraid that no one hear would want to participate and that I would be alone in my journey to self-love. What I didn't want for this project was for it to come off as self-centered, and my comfort level with making it part of this blog hinged on whether it caught on. Though it was surely more popular at the start, I've had a steady flow of people wanting to share what makes them amazing, and I have been so, so grateful for that. I'm impressed with you like you wouldn't believe, and I can't fathom how I ever had any doubts that you would want to join in. I realized that I have created a space, however small, on the Internet that attracts a truly awesome kind of person, the kind that I have been hoping to find out there. Your willingness to give yourselves the love and appreciation you deserve has been even more inspiring to me than it has been to do so for myself. I have looked forward each and every day to the potential of finding more Love 365 e-mails, and I'll miss that in 2011 much more than I could know right now.

So really, this post is a "thank you," sincerely, to those of you that have helped make this project-- this year-- so amazing. We did it together: 365 days of self-love! Congratulations, everyone!

Well, okay, almost. 365 days haven't passed quite yet: the last installation of Love 365 will be this Friday, so if you have any more love to share, pretty please e-mail me at chickensoupforthedorkysoul@gmail.com.

Resolutions Worth Making

2010-12-27T12:00:00.002-05:00

good girls go to paradise

This year, why don't you resolve to...

...have more fun.
...dance each and every day.
...try every fruit at the farmer's market.
...drink more tea.
...thrift everything.
...be naked more often.
...become an expert in something.
...teach yourself a foreign language (you know you've wanted to for years now).
...play often.
...make peace with your beautiful body.
...meditate.
...not beat yourself up if you don't make-- and keep-- a resolution.
...change the world.

Are you making a resolution? What is it? What have you resolved to do in years passed? Did you succeed?

Love 365: Day 352 - 358 (Belated)

2010-12-26T20:44:00.000-05:00

weheartit

I love that I don't ask for much for Christmas.

I love my lingering love for Jeopardy.

I love that death does not really scare me.

I love that my voice is "distinct."

I love that I am learning to pick my fights.

I love that I was less shy at parties this year.

I love that I dance with abandon.

--Me

******

I love that my hair is a perfect perch for stuffed animals.

--Luke

******

I love my openness to change.

I love that I laugh loudest.

I love my smile.

--Bee

******

Next week is the Very Last Love 365!

Please Send Your Self-Love Letters to:

ChickenSoupForTheDorkySoul@Gmail.Com

Neutral

2010-12-23T23:21:00.000-05:00

thrilld

As often as I write here about positive body image, it is undeniable that I have bad days. Sometimes it is exceedingly difficult to look in the mirror and not feel bad about my body. I don't like those times-- I don't think anyone really does like getting down on themselves. You would think, maybe, that I preach about self-love on this blog enough that I wouldn't still be having days where all I can think are nasty thoughts about my appearance, but it just isn't true. I generally try to combat these feelings by forcing myself to recognize something positive, but sometimes when I'm in a mood like that, telling myself nice things just doesn't even seem bearable. So what then?

I have been trying to engage myself in a bit of a thought experiment. I have been trying to look at my body in a way that is completely devoid of judgment-- even good judgment-- in hopes of seeing it as a neutral object. In our society, bodies have a lot of meaning imposed upon them, but these meanings aren't really inherently a part of them at all. It isn't really inherently true that being thin is good and being fat is bad, for instance. When it really comes down to it, most of the feelings we have about our appearance are related to what society has conditioned us to think. Sometimes, going back to basics-- to seeing our bodies as an amalgam of organic materials, shapes, and functional parts-- can be a huge relief.

Sometimes it's nice to look in the mirror and try to be neutral. I try to look at myself for what I am. I have curves in certain places, bony bits in others. I have freckles and stray hairs. My body is the thing that carries me around from day to day, the vessel for my brain and my personality. It's one of the few things I always bring with me. My legs are good for jogging and kicking. My arms lift books and mugs of hot cocoa in the wee hours of the morning. My belly and my chest are outer shells for my inner workings, and I don't have to feel particularly anything about them. All of these bits make me human and tie us together, even though mine look different from yours.

Try looking in the mirror without thinking. When we meditate, we allow thoughts to pass through our minds, acknowledging them but letting them go until we reach a sense of peaceful mental still. Meditate in on your body in front of the mirror. Let the negative thoughts pass without engaging them for now. You are not "too" anything. You just... are. And sure, it sounds a bit wishy-washy now, but it feels wonderful to free, for even a minute, from self-analysis. Neutrality, peace, can be the first step in having the strength to love unconditionally.

I try to be neutral because neutral is more loving than the cruel things I can slip into saying. When you can see your body as a functional part of life and not something that is meant to be pretty, sexual, aesthetic, etc. you can free yourself of a lot of self-hate. So what if certain parts of you are large or small or not quite like so-and-so's? So what? Your body is an integral part of who you are, but your mind is more important to what makes you truly "you." Give your body a rest. After all, your body does a very important job, no matter what it looks like: it is the vehicle in which you travel day to day, sharing the contents of that beautiful, beautiful mind.

Do you ever try to be neutral toward your body?

Safe Space

2010-12-20T16:02:00.000-05:00

a little piece of nothing

I completed my senior project several days ago. My project was a series of stories developed from interviews with relative strangers about how they feel about their bodies. A lot of you volunteered to talk to me, and in the end I spoke with 10 different and totally inspiring people. A few weeks ago, I had to do a presentation in class about it, and the Q&A session afterward prompted me to do a lot of thinking about what I'm going to post about today.

"How do you think the idea of safe spaces plays into your project?"

I wasn't sure at first what she meant. I asked.

"Like, how does having a safe forum to talk about issues and to discover yourself play into body image?"

I hadn't really thought about it before, but this girl had seen one of the themes in my project that I now feel may have been very subtle at times, but is crucial to where I feel that I-- we-- have to go from here.

Nearly every person I interviewed spoke to the idea of a safe space in some way. For some, it was a physical location that allowed them to feel comfortable with themselves and begin embracing their identity. For instance, when one woman went Hawaii for college, she found it found that the existence of an actual Hapa culture helped her truly love her racial identity. Another woman had a body image epiphany in a massage parlor. Two of the women addressed this idea in a way that was a bit more tangential by telling me something that was amazingly touching: that I was one of the only people who they had had the courage to share their story with. As a relative stranger, that was incredibly touching to hear. Some people saw this project as a safe space, a venue through which to share their struggles with other people and perhaps to enjoy the catharsis of saying it out loud. These two women had very personal, painful stories, and the idea that they had wanted to share them with me in order to help others is truly astounding. Hearing the way they felt about my project became, in a sense, the real reason I did what I did. And now it will continue to be the reason I strive to continue doing these things for others.

It's no shock to me-- and probably not to any of you-- that we live in a world where we can feel isolated by our problems. In the past year or so, I have started thinking of this blog as a place to talk about the things that are hard to talk about. At one point I termed it "an exercise in vulnerability," and I think now more than ever I feel that venues that function as such are extremely, extremely important, not just for the person who is doing most of the writing, but for the people reading. I like to think of this blog as a safe space not just for me but for all of you. I like to think that when I open up about something that's troubled me or that I'm secretly proud or that hurts me deeply it helps other people feel more welcome and accepted in this world. This may sound self-aggrandizing, but I like to think that what I do here by laying myself bare, by speaking my mind, is creating one of those safe spaces for you. I hope you know, really and truly, I read all my e-mail and all my comments and the way many of you have been willing to be vulnerable with me and the readers here makes coming here and writing worth it. If it weren't for your participation and the way many of you feel about this blog, I'm not sure it would be quite so rewarding.

What I want as a journalist, as someone who is going to be placed in a position of power to talk about other people's experiences, is to cultivate safe spaces. I want to tell stories that don't get told so often. I want to tell stories that help other people come to terms with their struggles and their losses and celebrate publicly their victories. We all deserve to feel as if we can share. We all deserve to be able to sing out our hearts and minds. When you do that, when you open yourself to others, you are able in turn to provide them the confidence to do the same-- or at the very least, help them not feel so alone. I get e-mails and comments from people thanking me for talking about very personal things-- for instance, my OCD-- and how my willingness to use this forum to say the things we're afraid even to whisper to ourselves in the middle of the night, no less in public, gives people a sense of community. Many would argue that the Internet is further isolating people from one another, but I'm often not so sure about that. The Internet gives people the opportunity to find people with the same secret fears and challenges, and with that comes a beautiful potential to help those who feel alone flourish and come into their own.

In the mass media and sometimes even in our personal lives, we don't often get the chance to feel emotionally secure. And if that's the case, we must work hard not only to find safe spaces in which to thrive, but to create them for others. People often bemoan the things that society is lacking, but we must come to realize that if all we do is sit around wondering why certain support systems, these safe spaces, that are so essential to our happiness and well-being don't exist in huge numbers they will never exist at all. We have to make them.

Have you discovered your own safe space? How will you work on creating safe spaces?

Love 365: Day 345 - 351 (Belated)

2010-12-19T23:21:00.000-05:00

fishmateo

Firstly, I'm really sorry this is a couple of days late. Once I arrived home from college, I discovered that the wireless connection in my house is currently nonexistent, so I haven't been able to get online early Friday evening when I would usually have posted Love 365. I'm at my boyfriend's house right now, so as long as I'm here I'll be able to post and hopefully the Internet problems will get resolved at my place soon. Thanks for bearing with me through my exams and through these technical difficulties!

********

I love that I am slowly becoming a minimalist.

I love that I'm buying more organic groceries.

I love how easily I get all choked-up when I see animals in need. I probably donate more money to charity than I should in my financial situation because of my tender heart, but at the end of the day I feel good about it.

I love that I'm willing to let things go.

I love my hopeless addiction to coffee.

I love myself even though I spend more time procrastinating than is even mildly reasonable.

I love that I am finished with the first semester of my senior year of college. Hallelujah!

--Me

******

I love that I'm really flexible.

--Luke

******

I love that asking myself to re-examine my day and life for what I love motivates me to recognize the tiny habits and moments I overlook most of the time.

I love that I keep an ambitiously long (and quite possibly never-ending) "to read" list.

I love that I have been finding little ways to "go green" via organic makeup and reusable bags. I will never be the ultimate poster child for the green campaign, but little changes are better than no changes at all.

I love that my feelings towards taking care of animals always brings me back to an idealistic, childlike state.

I love that I've figured out how to maintain smooth cuticles and creaseless eyeshadow.

I love that I always pull the shower curtain closed after showering. (No mold!)

--Jessica, Small Screen Scoop

******

There are only TWO weeks left for Love 365!

Send your self-love letters to:

ChickenSoupForTheDorkySoul@Gmail.Com

Readers to the Rescue!

2010-12-14T15:04:00.001-05:00

A lovely reader named Marie sent me an e-mail recently about a charity event that I thought you might all like to know about and maybe help out with.

Here's the story: blogger Sister Wolf, the funny, sarcastic lady behind Godammit.com, has been having a very rough year. She has spent her year ill and unemployed, and even had to go through her ill son's suicide. Now, she has yet another problem: her roof is caving in. She and her family are unable to pay to have the roof fixed. After going through so, so much I can't even imagine a person having to face the potential loss of their home. We all need shelter just as we need love and support.

Thankfully, with that love and support we can help her fix her roof! How, you ask? Well, fabulous blogger and jewelry artist Wendy Brandes has offered to run a little charity operation for roof repair funds, but for the whole operation to work, she needs people like us to participate. By purchasing one of her adorable "Little Woolf" pendants for $50, you will be donating $35 to putting a new roof over Sister Wolf's head.

I know that it's the Christmas season in a rough economy, but if you know someone who would love a beautiful piece of jewelry, please go buy one of these pendants. Not only will you be giving a gorgeous gift to yourself or a friend, but an even more meaningful one to a needy stranger as well.

Buy your own "Little Woolf" pendant here. And spread the word!

Love 365: Day 338 - 344

2010-12-10T20:36:00.001-05:00

here

I love that I speak a good amount of Spanish.

I love my huge collection of awesome scarfs.

I love how many musicals I can sing along with.

I love that I make monthly donations to charity even though I don't have a lot of money.

I love that I don't stress when I forget to shave my legs (hey, it's winter, you do it, too).

I love my passion for adorable stationary.

I love that tonight I will go out with my friends even though I feel a little meh.

--Me

******

I love that I come up with funny jokes.

--Luke

******

I love that I own rose coloured glasses. Although I do own those glasses, I also love that I know when enough is enough. I know better than to drive myself crazy over a crazy situation.

I love that I very rarely give someone a store bought gift for Christmas. Handmade is the way to go. I spent $26.00 (Cdn) on Christmas this year for six people. That's AWESOME. I bought one store gift this year but my family is doing Secret Santa and I got my brother's fifteen yr old girlfriend. Considering that my fifteen year old sister is the BIGGEST tom boy in the world I couldn't resist my first opportunity to go out and buy something girly for a 'sister'. :D

I actually love that I'm cheap. I normally don't buy things because I know I can make it myself and make it cooler and personalized and awesome.

--Julie, +Laells+

******

I love my sister. I don't understand why so many people hate their siblings. My little sister is my best friend and I would be utterly lost without her.

I love that I can finally cook decently. (No more scrambled eggs for dinner!)

I love my new dress. It makes me feel amazing.

I love that I'm not perfect. Perfection is boring.

--Sarah

******

Love 365 is Almost Done!

Send Your Self-Love Letters to:

ChickenSoupForTheDorkySoul@Gmail.Com

Activity of the Day

2010-12-08T19:05:00.000-05:00

you must realize this is two lolcat pictures in a row

I was minding my own business when I received a very odd call. From Santa. Oh, yes, from Santa. I kid you not.

Okay, maybe I'm kidding a little bit.

Have you been Send a Call From Santa yet? Whether you celebrate the holiday or not, I have a feeling you'll like it (my boyfriend and I have been laughing at these for twenty minutes now). Who doesn't like sending silly messages to their friends? You can create a custom message and share it over the phone, e-mail, or Facebook, so you have no excuses for not procrastinating a little by giving all your friends a wee surprise.

If you come up with something quite silly, you can even share it in the comments, if you'd like!

Dear Sugar Ants OR Antageddon

2010-12-07T17:56:00.001-05:00

can i get an anteater up in here?

Dear Sugar Ants,

Fuck you. Seriously. You are so goddam lucky I'm too much of a hippie to just want to smoosh you all out-right. Why are you here? What have a done to deserve an army of you hanging around on my desk? Probably you're here because I made the mistake of eating pineapple at my desk and now there are spots of delicious sustenance all over the place. Okay, my bad, but you'd best get the hell out of here before I clean my desk. I don't want to kill you, but if you leave me no choice, just know I'd rather be a murderer than wake up one day to find you inside my laptop or in my bed or something.

I guess this is why we can't have nice things.

xoxo,
Vanessa

On a serious note, how do you get rid of sugar ants?!

Monday Music: World Spins Madly On by The Weepies

2010-12-06T23:35:00.001-05:00

I'm just in time for Monday Music!

I saw this video today and I've been watching it on repeat. Not only are The Weepies fantastically intoxicating but this animation is... no words. It's gorgeous.

ryan j woodward

What songs make you hit "repeat" lately?

Love 365: 331 - 337

2010-12-03T21:10:00.000-05:00

have faith

I have to put this one first because we just found out today and it's BIG NEWS, people! I love that I am dating a guy who got into Northeastern University School of Law! I'm so proud of you, Luke!

I love that I have only straightened my hair twice in my entire life.

I love how productive I've been lately... though tonight will likely be an exception....

I love that I tried a new food on whim: kumquats! I'm sorta a picky eater so trying new things is an effort at time.

I love that I am being responsible and looking for real jobs already.

I love that I skip class sometimes and I don't feel that guilty about it. (Shhh! Don't tell!)

I love my obsession with beets.

I love how productive I've been lately... though tonight will likely be an exception....

--Me

******

I love that I got into law school!

--Luke

******

I love that I'm planning my own wedding. It's nightmarishly difficult and stressful at times, but I know it's going to add up to a beautiful, personalized, wonderful ceremony. It also means I'll have achieved a real feat of self-motivation, self-control, and organization - I'm pretty sure nothing else I attempt will be anywhere near this complex or significant. I know it'll be worth it, and I love that I have the guts to take it on.

--Laura, Ruby Bastille, Average Fantastic

******

There are Less Than Thirty Days Left for Love 365!

What Do YOU Love About You?

E-mail Me At:

ChickenSoupForTheDorkySoul@Gmail.Com

Picture-a-Day

2010-12-02T20:29:00.001-05:00

I promised videos, so that's what you get!

This is by far the greatest picture-a-day project I've seen yet.

Do you like picture-a-day videos? What are your favorites? Do share! Have you ever made one of yourself?

Elsewhere: Critical MASS Crew

2010-12-01T16:05:00.000-05:00

As some of you may remember, I write for Pulse Magazine, the Worcester lifestyle and culture magazine I interned with over the summer. I've been asked to continue working with them on a paid-per-article basis, which is really, really nice. For December, I got the chance to work with an amazing dance crew and photographer that are good friends of mine.

I could give you a whole bunch of explanation on who they are, but, of course, the article should answer all that for you.

Pretty please go read my article about Critical MASS Crew. You can also leave comments there if you'd like so my editor knows how great I am (I kid, I kid). But, really, extra, extra love to you if you do :)

Housekeeping: Your Advice Needed!

2010-11-29T23:16:00.001-05:00

can't go wrong with a cute puppy. private heart

Oh, hello, everyone! This isn't a real post-- just warning you right off the bat. This is a post to announce that I have just begun to realize how busy I will be between now and the 17th of December when my finals end. I have exams to prepare for, papers to write, very important final projects to concoct, and I just don't think I can promise that in the next 2-and-a-half weeks I'll have time between doing that and maybe eating and sleeping to post original content that's good and thoughtful on anything resembling a regular basis. Boo.

HOWEVER, I do want there to be a post up here 5 days a week or close to it. I'll continue posting Love 365 on Fridays (pretty please keep sending those submissions-- there's only a month left!), but in lieu of normal posts I want... something to go up. I can't have you forgetting me! So here's where I need your input.

Would you want me to do a Best Of? I could re-post some of my favorites from the past. You could also e-mail me or comment to recommend what would get included. If I were to do this, I might like to eventually turn it into a little sidebar for newcomers. So that could be fun.

Would you want a funny/interesting/inspiring video-of-the-day type thing? I've got more Youtube favorites than you can shake a stick at, and I'm known to be pretty hip to what's cool on the Interwebz.

I'm having trouble thinking up anything else-- suggestions? I'm open to anything, so do tell!

If anyone would want to write a guest post, pretty please e-mail me about it! I'd welcome any help I can get, believe me.

So if you would, talk with me about this in the comments or shoot me an e-mail. I'd like to be able to do something that you'd all find enriching, so anything you have to say on the matter is awesome.

As always, I find this to be the most lovely, amazing community of readers. You're so thoughtful and wonderful and I truly appreciate each and every one of you. It's corny, but I don't think you guys could ever understand how much you reading this blog means to me.

Lots and lots of love,
Vanessa

Love 365: Day 324 - 330 (Belated)

2010-11-27T19:51:00.000-05:00

tumblr photography xox :)

I love that I feel ready for the real world, even if I don't feel all that grown up.

I love that I come off as more of a crazy idealist every day.

I love that I got over 20% for all my tips on Thanksgiving! I was very pleased, especially since I was nervous about being back at work, as always.

I love that lose track of time.

I love that I reference Internet memes in public.

I love how defiant I can be.

I love that I am in a relationship that is healthy and where we can be open with each other. I've probably said this or something like it before but it's especially relevant lately and I've been counting my blessings for it.

--Me

******

I love the burn scar on my arm. (Editor's Note: He got it while helping me bake brownies).

--Luke

******

- I love that I am in a place where I find change not only comfortable, but necessary.

-I love my beautiful eyes, especially when they are filled with wonder.

--Heather

******

Love 365 is Almost Done!

But There's Still Time to Share the Love at:

ChickenSoupForTheDorkySoul@Gmail.Com

What Journalism Classes Teach

2010-11-24T22:06:00.000-05:00

run for your mother

Last semester, I took my final journalism class. I didn't think about it that way until now. I didn't know, after all, that I would never take a class in journalism-- or even writing-- again in my student career. I suppose once things pass us by we tend to wax poetic about them, but honestly, I do feel that I gained something from being in those classes, something more than what makes news and libel laws. I left them feeling as if every person should take a journalism class, no matter where they see life taking them.

So what does journalism teach?

How to juggle.

Being competent at doing many things at once is an essential skill in our society. Many jobs will have you working on several projects at once, and if you can't cope, you're in for a hell of a ride. One of my journalism professors made sure to have us working on at least two pieces at any given time. In the real world, tasks aren't always discrete and you don't get to finish one before starting another.

The art of talking to strangers.

I'm a bit timid by nature, so learning how to interview people has been tough for me. Though I've done a whole bunch by now, I still get exceedingly nervous before communicating with other human beings, especially ones I'm not so familiar with. The thing is, shyness is one of those problems that really doesn't seem to resolve itself without practice-- and couldn't we all stand to learn how to pick up a phone without getting butterflies? (I can't be the only one!)

How to know what's important.

The more you listen, the more easily you're able to pick out the essentials. This can be especially hard, I think, for writers, especially ones who aren't used to adhering to things like word count. When you only have 300 words, you have to develop a sense of your story at a very intimate, nit-picky level. What is important? What isn't? These are hard decisions, but they get easier to make as your vision grows clearer. As I've gotten more familiar with journalistic writing, I've found I think quicker on the fly when it comes to teasing out the important details that will lead to an actual story. Which brings me to....

How to fail with grace.

Learning to be a journalist has been a great exercise in thinking on my feet and accepting my own limitations. It's never exactly pleasant to go into an interview and find your questions are leading nowhere, or get through an entire article and not feel sure you've said anything at all-- but these are the chances we really get to show our stuff. I think anyone can take a lackluster interview or article and turn it into something great, but the first step is admitting that your original approach? Not so great. And when dealing with an editor, you learn to take constructive criticism with grace and to admit when you've messed up. Denial doesn't fix a thing.

How to ask hard questions, especially of yourself.

Writers see their words as their children. If you think that notion is silly, I'm guessing you're not a writer. A lot of us creative-types go into blind panic at the thought of having to be our own most critical editors. The worst moments I've had while writing journalism have been the ones when the article is done-- but 50 words too long, meaning I have to go back and cut, cut, cut. It's painful. But sometimes it gets to that point where you have to ask "do I need this?" when looking at a particularly nice sentence that doesn't add much more than whimsy to your piece. I have to ask those questions as often as I have to ask an interviewee to talk about something deeply personal-- at which point I experience that fear that I've crossed a line. But we don't learn without challenging each other and ourselves.

That everyone has a story.

I can't tell you how many times I've asked someone to talk to me for an article and they say "I don't know why you want to talk to me, I'm not that interesting." False. False, false, false. Everyone is interesting, and everyone has a story inside them that is beautiful and inspiring and just waiting to be told. We often seem to get caught up in the idea that certain things make a good story and that any deviations are boring or inconsequential. You don't have to win in the end. You don't have to have had your life changed. You don't have to have conquered only the most seemingly insurmountable difficulties. Have faith in your story. The reason the world needs good interviewers is because without good interviewers, there wouldn't be nearly so many good stories. Sometimes it takes someone else to pull those bits of beauty out of us. Maybe we just forgot they were there, maybe we took them for granted, but either way they don't deserve to be hidden. This, I think, is one of the most valuable things anyone can discover.

Have you taken a journalism class? What did you learn? What life skills and values have you learned from other classes?

Present

2010-11-22T15:39:00.000-05:00

weheartit

I know it's a Monday and I know Mondays are loved by few. It's the end of a weekend of (hopefully) rejoicing and relaxing and forgetting about all those nasty little responsibilities that resume with the beginning of the week. It's the kind of day that makes you say "I can't wait until Friday!" or "I wish Sunday never ended!"

Too much of that is a not-so-good thing.

I do it, too, I'm not saying I don't. But look: today is going to be the only today you get. It is November 22nd, 2010-- the only one of those in the history of the world! So don't spend it moping around with a cup of lukewarm coffee in your sweats and counting the hours until Friday. Today is a pretty good day. You're alive and kickin' and it's another chance to spread your special brand of awesome around.

Spend the day making people smile. Laugh a lot even though you're tired. Decide on something you love that will be reserved for Mondays only so that you always look forward to it. Go out for breakfast with a friend. Leave your technology at home while you take a walk and enjoy the sights and sounds of the only today you'll ever have.

Be present. You get one chance.

Love 365: Day 317 - 323

2010-11-19T22:46:00.000-05:00

weheartit

[The sudden jump in number of days is because I miscounted somewhere along the line-- oopsies! Or maybe you didn't notice at all, but in case you're keeping track...]

I love that I write "love" on my arms.

I love my new very official Pulse Magazine signature for my business e-mails.

I love my pigeon toes.

I love my voice, even though I've said this before. I'm writing it again because lately I need to really remind myself. The worst part of transcribing interviews is listening to yourself talk!

I love that I have a boyfriend who feels like he can confide in me.

I love that I stood strong on not going to an ex's wedding, even though it was hard for me to tell the truth (thanks to those of you who gave advice on this!)

I love that I have had such a productive day without even trying. I need to have more days like this, but I'm grateful for the times I really throw myself into things.

--Me

******

I love my skinny legs.

--Luke

******

I love that I can lift a lot more weight than I used to be able to! I feel so strong!

I love that I am an amazing friend to have. Really, I rock, and I'm not afraid to admit it!

--Helena

******

What Do You Love About You?

Submit to Love 365 by E-Mailing Me:

ChickenSoupForTheDorkySoul@Gmail.Com

Results May Vary

2010-11-18T10:15:00.000-05:00

miss clawdy

*A Fat Rant. I could not love this any more than I already do. Joy Nash, let's hang out.

*Prepare to have your mind blown: The McGurk Effect.

*I just found out about Kiva, a website where you can loan money to fund life-changing projects. All donations go directly to whatever person you choose and are re-payed. Long from Cambodia needs money for fertilizer to help her rice and vegetable business. Albert from Rwanda needs money to buy more products to improve his shop. Vilma from Peru needs help starting a coffee-growing business. Who will you help?

fuck yeah cute food (cupcakes topped with cupcakes? be still my beating heart)

*Save the Words will keep all you logophiles busy for hours on end.

*The Chronicle of Higher Education featured a piece by a man who calls himself Ed Dante about his controversial job: he writes custom essays for college students. This is very interesting... and depressing.

*Anti Jokes. These are simultaneously really stupid and incredibly amazing.

p-mod photography

*My Very Own Dakota Fanning by Dr. Dana.

*Don't you wish you were too super cool for traffic tickets?

*Some really awesome photographs from clever perspectives.

weheartit

*Hilariously accurate in many ways: Realistic Hollywood Sex Scene. [NSFW] [But also not porn. Just don't want it at work].

*Nothing makes me happier than when Hyperbole and a Half involves dogs.

*And last but not least, do check out Average Fantastic, a wonderful new body-positive fashion blog by Laura of Ruby Bastille and Jessica of Saturday Jane. It's, well, fantastic!

weheartit

These are some of the things I'm lovin' lately, but results may vary! What about you? Tell me what you think in the comments!

How to Look Great Every Day

2010-11-16T21:19:00.001-05:00

weheartit

-Get dressed as you: not the fashion magazine version, but the comfortable-yet-impossibly-lovely one.
-Let your hair get a little bit messy.
-Put on one very special item, like a favorite ring. These things aren't too special to be worn.
-Walk with your eyes forward-- I see you looking at the ground over there!
-Smile at everyone.
-Wear your favorite color, whether it suits you or not.
-Look upon others with kindness and with as little judgment as possible.
-Accentuate what you love, whether it's conventionally beautiful or not.
-Be present: you don't always need your iPod in and your cell phone out.
-Be pleasant: warmth radiates outward.

What are your everyday beauty tips?

Love 365: Day 304 - 310

2010-11-12T22:58:00.000-05:00

weheartit

I love that I have a thing for giraffes. Like, obsessed lately.

I love that I don't mind putting my money toward fun-- a reasonable amount of the time, that is.

I love that I forgive.

I love that I find almost everyone interesting on some level.

I love how I give myself funny hair-dos when I'm bored. It works wonders, I assure you.

I love my "blemishes." We don't have to be perfect.

I love how well I take care of myself when I'm sick. (Like now. Boo).

--Me

******

I love that I'm a good writer, even if I don't believe it yet.

--Luke

******

I love how I'm getting stronger (physically and mentally) and more flexible through my daily yoga.

I love how a cup of tea can make me feel after a long day at work.

I love Boston terriers, and I will have one one day.

I love that I've got such great friends.

I love the fact that I'm so much stronger than I thought I was.

--Sara

******

Love 365 is Almost Done! Have You Participated Yet?

Send Your Self-Love Letters to:

ChickenSoupForTheDorkySoul@Gmail.Com

Guest Post: Home Tonight

2010-11-10T16:10:00.007-05:00

danske

My boyfriend, Luke, is applying to law school. Much like the undergrad application process, this requires writing a personal statement: a story that reflects who you are and why you are a strong candidate for furthering your education. After a lot of thought, he decided to write a story that he didn't really want to tell at first, one that he has tried to forget. Some stories are harder to tell than others.

I was incredibly impressed with the courage it took for him to write the following piece and asked him to share it with you all. This blog has become an exercise in vulnerability. When we share the wounded parts of ourselves, we come so much closer to finding the strength we've been aching for.

******

It was late at night, and I was laying on my bed watching TV. I heard a quick knock at the door, and before I could even respond, my mom slipped in. “Pack your backpack” she said, “we're leaving.” I didn't hesitate to get started – I knew exactly what was going on. I emptied my ratty blue L.L. Bean backpack – the same tattered backpack that I had used since seventh grade – and hastily stuffed a pair of jeans, a pair of boxer shorts, socks, and long sleeved and short sleeved tee shirts inside. I threw on my new navy blue Saint John's Prep Eagles sweatshirt, popped on my sneakers, and booked it out of my bedroom.

My house is inconveniently designed. When you enter through the front door, there's a small anteroom where we leave coats and shoes. Take a right – this leads to the kitchen and dining area. When you take a U-turn in the dining room, you'll reach the family room. At the far side of the family room is the narrow hallway that leads to our bedrooms. My room is at the end of the hallway, on the right. I didn't want to have to leave the house – that meant I would have to cross the family room to do so. That's where Dad would be.

I tried to walk as casually yet expediently as possible. The sofa that Dad sleeps on is positioned in such a way that when he lays down, he can see straight to the end of the hallway. He was there, of course, as he had been every night for the last two years. It was awkward. I tried not to look at him as I took my walk of shame, but I failed. He glared at me. His face betrayed a mix of sadness, disappointment, hatred, and rage. I feared that he would lash out at any moment, but I knew he wouldn't. I stole a quick glance at the coffee table: Dad's books had been swept aside, revealing the giant black blotch where the wood was stained by his nightly gin and tonic.

Mom was darting around the kitchen, collecting her things. She had her coat on and her keys in hand. She looked like she had been ready to go for a while. “Got everything?” she asked. “Yeah” I nodded. We left the house without saying a word to Dad. He wouldn't follow us. He'd probably continue to lay on the sofa and seethe. We tossed our bags in the back seat of the car. “Where are we gonna go?” I asked Mom as I climbed into the passenger's side. She started the engine. “I don't know, but we aren't staying here.” When we pulled out of the driveway, I finally had time to think. Dad had been an alcoholic for some time now. His drinking became excessive when I started high school, and harmful when I was a sophomore. This wasn't the first time that he had been abusive, either. In fact, most nights were chaotic. He'd watch C-SPAN and rant about the evils of politics. When Mom would try to pacify him, he'd take it personally and launch a full scale verbal assault. My desk shared a wall with the family room, so every night I had the pleasure of hearing – albeit muffled – the excitement. Occasionally I heard a loud thump or a bang. I'd cringe – I liked to believe he missed whatever he was aiming for.

Tonight I wasn't an accidental spectator, though. Tonight I was a participant. I looked out the window. We had been in Salisbury for a while, but I couldn't recognize where exactly. It was a rural-looking place; trees and trailer homes for miles. We finally reached our impromptu destination. I read the busted, half-lit sign: “MOTEL.” It was surreal. I thought things like this only happened in fiction. Mom parked in front of the management building. “Wait here,” she ordered, before closing the door. I immediately locked the car. Fortunately, not five minutes had passed before she returned. We drove a short distance to our parking space, where I hopped out and hoisted my backpack over my shoulder. I prepared for the worst.

Our room was bare. The walls were a blueish-green. There was a king sized bed along the wall, and across from it sat an archaic, twenty-inch TV set. There was a small bathroom in the back. I don't remember if the lights didn't work, if they were dim, or if we didn't use them, but the room was dark. Mom turned the TV on, giving the room an eerie blue hue. Meanwhile, I set up camp on the bed. This was home tonight.

*Read more from Luke.

Silly Searches

2010-11-09T22:16:00.000-05:00

here

Do you have a StatCounter? I do, and I'm a little bit crazy about it, not even for the fact that I can track how many of you amazing people are coming here, but for the keyword function. That's right, I can look up what people are searching to find my blog at any given time. Mostly, the searches are pretty standard: dorky clothing, body image-related terms, dermatophagia, and the odd chicken soup recipe request (should've seen that coming when I came up with the name). Lately a lot of people seem to want to know about "piercings on private parts" (I wrote about piercings I find a bit creepy twice).

And sometimes there are strange, amusing gems.

A sampling, you ask? Here are a few of my favorites.

"Weird dorky tit:" Honestly, I don't know what this person was hoping to find.

"You are my shiny diaper:" Apparently this is something Bai Ling said. I don't quite remember posting about it, but I'm glad I am apparently an authority on such matters.

"I feel so self conscious wearing clothes because I think it's dorky:" I liked this one enough to write it down because, though I'm sure this wasn't what the person meant, it's hilarious to me to think of someone feeling wearing clothes makes you some kind of square. The only way to achieve coolness is to be a nudist, apparently.

"loser mcloserface:" If you are the person who used this search term, please let me know. I want to be your best friend.

What's the silliest way someone has arrived at your blog?

Love 365: Day 297 - 303 (Belated)

2010-11-06T13:15:00.000-04:00

here

I love that I've surrounded myself with talented people.

I love my excellent spelling skills.

I love that I haven't been drinking quite as much coffee lately.

I love my cheekbones.

I love that I spend way too much time on my computer.

I love my extreme fast-typing skills. And that I don't type the "proper" way they teach you in school. (this was inspired by Laura, as you'll see below).

I love I am able to maintain my composure in the face of incompetence. (This has been a stressful few weeks at my school magazine. Gah).

--Me

******

I love that I've already submitted three of my law school applications.

--Luke

******

A lovely reader named Sara submitted this week but my gmail swallowed her entry somehow! I feel terrible about it! If you're reading this, Sara, resend me your e-mail and I'll be delighted to include you this week! (Or next week-- whenever I hear from you again).

******

I love that I type so fast. My typing speed is around 70-80 wpm and it makes me feel like a freaking superhero.

I love (and hate, but mostly love) my instinct to go to the mattresses for my friends. When one of my friends is hurt or upset, my first reaction is to comfort, but my second (and usually stronger) reaction is to find the bastard who did it and rub his face in dog poop. Once I get talked out of committing a violent act, my energy shifts to finding any and all solutions to the problem, which may still lead to some bastard getting a faceful of poo. My other friends are momma hens; I'm the momma rottweiler.

--Laura, Ruby Bastille, Average Fantastic (this is a brand new blog that you should totally check out!)

******

Share The Love!

Submit Your Self-Love Letters to:

ChickenSoupForTheDorkySoul@Gmail.Com

Organization Tips for the Chronically Cluttered

2010-11-04T22:32:00.001-04:00

The above picture is my desk right now. I don't think I need to say that I'm not the most organized person. Everything's sort've strewn (this is actually much better than normal) and it drives my neat-freak boyfriend crazy. He tries to clean thing up for me a lot, but I usually find it doesn't help. Things go back to my version of normal pretty quickly. Oh well, nice try.

I'm like a lot of disorganized people I know in that my brain sort've malfunctions when things are too tidy. I know where most of my stuff is, even if it looks like there's no way I could have any clue. I do lose things on occasion, but I try to use a few simple tips to keep my clutter from ruining my peace of mind.

Don't Be Pressured

My boyfriend won't agree with this, but here's the thing: don't let yourself be told how you have to organize yourself. Not everyone works efficiently in the same way, so if a workspace that's kept super clean and sterile makes you cringe or cramps your style, screw it. You don't have to do things that way. Work with your quirks!

Color Coding

This, for me, is the most essential part of being efficiently cluttered, if you will. When it comes to notebook for class or important notes about assignments, I try to come up with a color system. All my notebooks are a different color and I generally write notes to myself in a certain pen so that I can tell what the note regards without too much thought. Since papers tend to pile up around these parts, having different bright colors to search for is super helpful. I can find a red notebook among the chaos pretty easily.

In and Out Boxes/Bins/Etc.

Since this is a short list of tips to help you stay cluttery but not lose anything, I have to advocate casual organization tools like bins. In and out boxes would be ideal-- I wish I had some-- so that you know where everything is generally speaking but it's also not a case of having everything all over the floor. You could make these cheap by cutting up old cereal boxes and either painting over them or using a chic wrapping paper to cover them (unless you're really fond of Cheerios).

White Boards

This may be a stretch, but a lot of us cluttered-types are also creative-types, and what do creative, whimsical people like more than a dry erase board? You can do silly doodles while staying on top of your schedule! I have one now that has a notes section and slots for each weekday and I think it will really help me keep my thoughts straight throughout the week (no more forgetting!) I've always loved planners, but unlike a planner, a white board's a one-time purchase and much more green, considering a day planner for every year of your life would be a whole lot of paper. And an added bonus: since you can mount a white board on the wall, it won't take up more desk space (or get lost).

Pile Technology

This is a term I coined sometime in the last year or so and has been my go-to room cleaning technique. It combines both organization (boring, eh) and disorganization (exciting, fun!) into several nice little packages ready to be put away. And I suppose we should put things away sometimes. Basically, it's easier for me to put my disarray of skirts into a pile, and shirts into a pile, and papers into a pile, etc. and go from there. I never know where to start when it comes to cleaning, so this way I can work my way through a lot of stuff in bite-size chunks. My boyfriend claims this method doesn't work and actually makes things more messy, but he likes to lie. A bunch of nice little piles is better than crap strewn all over the place, right?

Are you messy or neat? What does organization mean for you? What do you do to keep yourself organized?

In Which My Sanity is Restored

2010-11-03T21:27:00.002-04:00

*all these photos were taken by me unless otherwise indicated...

[Disclaimer: This post will look like it's heinously long but it's mostly pictures! Large pictures for the purpose of you being able to read the signs! If this post loads annoyingly slow, please tell me and I'll make them smaller.]

At 11:00 at night on the Friday before Halloween, my boyfriend and I boarded a coach bus bound for Washington D.C. The ride would take an excruciating eight hours, but lead us to the promised land: The Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear. Yes, that rally, the tongue-in-cheek one organized by Comedy Central's own Jon Stewart and Steve Colbert. When Luke and I found out that our college was sponsoring a trip for 57 lucky students, we jumped on the opportunity: something like this, we thought, was a little bit silly, but also an opportunity that comes once in a lifetime. It was a chance to be part of history.

I have to admit, trying to write about the experience now, I feel that words don't really suit it well. There was a lot of waiting, of laughing, of pushing through crowds (but politely-- people were so polite). I had to use a port-o-potty at one point, which was just as pleasant as I expected it to be. But, still, this was a truly special day to be on the National Mall. So this is my mish-mash of words and photos that will hopefully express, even a little bit, how awesome it was to be there.

8 AM: We jump off the bus and make a dash for the rallying grounds. Volunteers are handing out rally towels and looking surprisingly chipper for being up so early. We're surprised to find that there are already a lot of people here-- the pre-show doesn't even start until 11. This is the beginning of seeing amazing signs and/or creatively costumed folks.

8:30 AM: Luke and I decide we don't want to wait here for the rest of our lives and venture off to see the Washington Monument (neither of us has ever visited D.C.). It looked like in the pictures, and it was too cold to want to take ridiculous pictures of us squishing it or pretending it was a penis through strategic angles. We did, however, see a lovely little Smithsonian museum garden that included the Yoko Ono Wish Tree (I wanted to take photos of the wishes but again, it was freezing) and this cool rabbit drummer thing:

9:30 AM: We return to the rally and stake out our permanent spot. We set up right in view of a jumbotron, and close enough that we can see the stage but not clearly make out the people. I take tons of sign photos while we wait for what seems like forever.

The MythBusters come on stage and do an experiment with the entire crowd of-- which, by the way, extends the whole, oh, I don't know, mile to the Washington Monument. The far reaches need to be spoken to via walkie-talkie in order for us to successfully send an ultra-scientific wave back and forth a few times. We also measured the force of 215,000 people (estimated) jumping at once. We were about as effective as a slow-speed car crash.

12:00 PM: The rally starts with an amazing performance by The Roots and John Legend.

Father Guido Sarducci does the benediction. Yes.

We laugh a bunch and then I freak. out. when Yusuf a.k.a. Cat Stevens takes the stage to sing "Peace Train" (which ended up one of the best live versions I've heard). And then I freak. out. even more when motherfucking Ozzy Osbourne comes out and sings "Crazy Train." Say what you will about how Ozzy sounds lately, but he's still Ozzy and I lost my shit. Unfortunately, Stewart and Colbert were doing this bit where they were interrupting the songs, so neither actually got to the end. The O'Jays sang "Love Train," and everyone danced. I took a video of all the awesomeness, but I was jumping around screaming after I saw Ozzy so I found you a much better version on Youtube.

A bunch of other artists perform, including Kid Rock, Sheryl Crow, and Mavis Staples, to name a few. They're all thoroughly great (well, not so much Sheryl Crow, who seems to have a shaky knowledge of the lyrics she's singing, and then singing them a bit above her range). Awards are given out for being remarkably sane and remarkably frightening. For instance, Wrestler Mick Foley came out to accept an award for his charity and work and general niceness. As for the scariest? Anderson Cooper's tight black T-shirt.

At some point, Stewart and Colbert sing "I'm More American Than You." They are both terrible and it's one of the best moments of the rally. Check it out.

Oh, and did you know the Colbert's ability to create fear is actually gigantic and made of papier-mâché?

thanks to zach shaw for getting a picture of this while i was too busy cracking up.

(Fear not, the monster was slain).

At some point, Tony Bennett demonstrates that old jazz-age crooners never lose their talent with his rendition of "America the Beautiful." He is wearing orange sunglasses to match his orange tie. As someone who grew up listening to Bennett's genre, I get really thrilled to be in his presence.

There were a lot of laughs that day-- and there's nothing wrong with that. The rally was, after all, meant to be tongue-in-cheek, but Stewart ended the day with the message that we all wanted and needed to hear.

It is time to stop being afraid, because fear is getting us nowhere. There are so many forces out there right now that are begging us to be scared of each other, and while there are scary things about the world we live in, about politics, about the future, the way we move forward is with level-headedness and a desire to help one another. Stewart showed a clip of drivers in Washington D.C., probably all annoyed and in a rush, but following the rules and being courteous of one another. Sure, there would be the random asshole that cuts people off or gives them the finger, but that asshole isn't most people. Most of us are compassionate, reasonable people. "You go, then I go," he said. Taking turns is important. Why do we adults forget that so often?

There's this saying that says the squeaky wheel gets the oil-- and I think that's become a truth in American politics. The extreme left and right are the ones getting all the attention, but they don't represent most of us. Most of us aren't extreme liberals or Tea Partiers. Most of us are just regular people who get caught in the middle. We are the silent majority. This rally may have been all in good fun, but the message that it was supposed to get across is an important one: those of us who aren't so often heard still have voices. Let's raise them-- but not in fear or violence. Let's raise them and give voice to intelligent, kind thoughts. We are many and we matter.

So many of us are afraid, but we don't need to be. Maybe the courage to break the silence will be the end to fear.

Love 365: Day 290 - 296

2010-10-29T20:38:00.000-04:00

here

I love that I smile to strangers.

I love that I'm hyperactive.

I love how well I stick to my own deadlines.

I love that when I set my mind to something, no one can tell me otherwise.

I love that I am trying to live more in the moment.

I love that I stay up too late and then wake up too early.

I love that I rarely skip breakfast.

--Me

******

I love how well I know myself.

--Luke

******

I love how well my brother and I get along.

I love that I'm great at violin.

I love that I believe you can never read too many good books.

--Darcy

******

Love 365 Needs You!

Send Your Self-Love Letters to

ChickenSoupForTheDorkySoul@Gmail.Com

Letters to Maura Kelly

2010-10-28T23:13:00.001-04:00

museum of fat love

Dear Maura Kelly,

To try to curb my desire to combat vitriol with vitriol, let's take apart your demeaning, terrible article about how disgusted you are by fat people on your Marie Claire blog piece by piece. (Italics indicate text copied directly from the article).

The other day, my editor asked me, "Do you really think people feel uncomfortable when they see overweight people making out on television?"

Okay...

Because I can be kind of clueless — I'm not much of a TV person — I had no idea what she was talking about, so she steered me to this CNN article, about the CBS sitcom Mike & Molly. As CNN explains, "the show centers around a couple who meet at an Overeaters Anonymous group [and] has drawn complaints for its abundance of fat jokes [as well as] cries from some viewers who aren't comfortable watching intimacy between two plus-sized actors."

Still fine...

My initial response was: Hmm, being overweight is one thing — those people are downright obese! And while I think our country's obsession with physical perfection is unhealthy, I also think it's at least equally crazy, albeit in the other direction, to be implicitly promoting obesity! Yes, anorexia is sick, but at least some slim models are simply naturally skinny. No one who is as fat as Mike and Molly can be healthy. And obesity is costing our country far more in terms of all the related health problems we are paying for, by way of our insurance, than any other health problem, even cancer.

First of all, you cannot see health by just looking at weight, so you don't really have any idea of whether Mike and Molly are healthy or not. You don't get to see what they eat, watch them work out, or pour over their medical records. And may I add, you maintain in your "apology" that these actors are 100% over their healthy weight-- how in the fuck have you deduced that? Really, I want to know.

Let's just say that showing people who look like just regular people on TV is not promoting obesity. If we've learned anything from the media, it's that even promoting being thin-- which the media absolutely does and I can't see any legitimate argument otherwise-- has had just about zero effect on the rate of obesity. If you could shame people skinny, we would all fit into sample sizes. All the shaming has done is make people feel alienated and degraded, even the skinny ones. Promoting a single idea of what is aesthetically pleasing has damaged people at every point on the weight spectrum-- and I mention aesthetics because I have a damn hard time believing you care about my fat ass and how long I live (because living longer is just longer you have to look at me). Very few people genuinely care, and you're not one of them. And even those who do? It's none of their business what I want to do with my own health. If I want to eat pure lard breakfast, lunch, and dinner, it is no one's business but my own. Cut the crap.

So anyway, yes, I think I'd be grossed out if I had to watch two characters with rolls and rolls of fat kissing each other ... because I'd be grossed out if I had to watch them doing anything. To be brutally honest, even in real life, I find it aesthetically displeasing to watch a very, very fat person simply walk across a room — just like I'd find it distressing if I saw a very drunk person stumbling across a bar or a heroine addict slumping in a chair.

So you've revealed yourself. It isn't the health you care about-- it's your precious, precious eyes. Your delicate sensibilities, if you will. You're grossed out by fat people doing anything, from walking across a room to being intimate? And in expressing this disgust at these simple things like walking, things that make us animate beings at a very basic level, you are making a disgusting attempt at robbing fat people of their very humanity. So fat people cannot even exist in public space without making you "grossed out?" So what is a fat person to do? Protect you and stay inside all day? This is the irony of your disgust: people like you believe that larger people are lazy and disabled, encased in "rolls and rolls of fat" and claim you wish they'd just get off their asses and exercise, when this venomous rhetoric of revulsion only serves to discourage people from being seen, from moving, for fear that they'll hurt your fragile feelings. Maybe fat people wouldn't seem so different-- and maybe there would be less of them to offend you, who knows-- if you just let them goddam be and live their lives without being ridiculed for being walking freak shows at every turn? I just get the feeling you think of us that way. Just a hunch.

And, seriously, "heroine" addict? I should really stop paying you any attention here.

Now, don't go getting the wrong impression: I have a few friends who could be called plump. I'm not some size-ist jerk. And I also know how tough it can be for truly heavy people to psych themselves up for the long process of slimming down. (For instance, the overweight maintenance guy at my gym has talked to me a little bit about how it seems worthless for him to even try working out, because he's been heavy for as long as he can remember.)

I can't even believe what I'm reading. Pro-tip: if you feel the need to assure people you have friends of a certain demographic, you are a bigot.

But ... I think obesity is something that most people have a ton of control over. It's something they can change, if only they put their minds to it.

I love the deluded idea that fat is just something you choose to stop being all of a sudden. Honey, there are so many diet and exercise plans out there that if it really were that easy, there wouldn't be a fat person on God's green Earth. "If only they put their minds to it...." You show me a fat person who hasn't dieted-- not even once-- and I will eat my hat. Many fat people have lost a lot of weight over their lifetimes, but statistics tend to show that most people regain all that weight within several years of the loss. I have this sneaking suspicious that "yo-yo dieting" is less about self control and more about how our bodies actually work. It sure as hell doesn't have to do with your mind.

And might I add that this goes both ways. I have a best friend who is a size 00. She hates it. But her metabolism is such that she will often consume an entire box of Oreos in a day and not gain an ounce. She doesn't work out, she doesn't play sports. She has tried to gain weight many times, but her body doesn't seem to allow it. People tell her she's so lucky that she gets to eat whatever she wants, but it's certainly not healthy. If health, as you tried to imply before, is such a big concern, what about the unhealthy skinny people? Oh, right, they're perfectly fine because at least bones aren't jiggly and repulsive. (And this friend totally doesn't mind at all when strangers dare to walk up to her and ask if she has an eating disorder).

[AT THIS POINT KELLY GIVES A BUNCH OF UNSOLICITED DIET ADVICE].

...Because fat people don't know anything about diets....

Then again, I guess these characters are in Overeaters Anonymous. So ... points for trying?

This reeks of sarcasm. Points for being a douche.

Then again, I tend to think most television shows are a kind of junk food for the mind and body. The boob tube gives us an excuse to turn off both our brains and our bodies and probably does a helluva lot to contribute to the obesity problem, over all. So ... I don't know.

You don't seem to know anything-- and thanks for the "junk food is the reason for fatties lol" implication. That's not oversimplifying at all.

What do you guys think? Fat people making out on TV — are you cool with it? Do you think I'm being an insensitive jerk?

You know what? I do. And I'm not entirely sure what's worse: that you're holding onto the delusion that you're a decent human being or that you holding onto the notion that you're a writer or journalist of any kind. As someone who is working on breaking into the field of journalism, I am appalled to see someone as talentless and uncouth as you are being given a columnist position, even if the column is just a blog. You mention at some point in the comments that you posted this piece without editing, and that it was something you just did quickly-- that you would do something like that takes away any shred of credibility you possibly could have had. You could have written a piece that engaged in a conversation about aesthetics while utilizing research and something we call tact, but instead you opted to do this. And, really, as insulted as I am as a fat person, I am almost more insulted as a journalist. You have shown that you have no respect for your job or your audience. You are not a writer.

Honestly, this piece has me so angry that it's difficult to articulate how I feel. There is so much to say, but my blood is boiling and the words aren't coming so easily. Because what I see here is a woman who feels she has the right to take away the humanity of others based on her personal preferences. We are all entitled to find people unattractive. You don't have to find fat people beautiful or sexy, but that doesn't make them subhuman. That doesn't make them disgusting. Bullying has been such an important topic lately that few people would be able to deny that our cruelties can kill.

All love as good love, no matter what size package it comes in.

And now you'll have to excuse me-- this fatass has a make-out session to get to.

xoxo,
Vanessa

*Will you be in New York tomorrow? Take the day off work and join the kiss in protest!

Random Things I Like: Disney's Alice in Wonderland

2010-10-27T06:00:00.000-04:00

Sometimes you forget about little bits and pieces of your childhood until something pops in and reminds you. This remix popped in the other day.

And then I went on an Alice in Wonderland-watching bender. Join me?

What movies did you love when you were little?

In Praise of MTV

2010-10-26T06:00:00.001-04:00

le petit syp

I often hear my generation referred to as being the "MTV generation." It's hard to talk about today's 20-somethings (and those a bit older and younger than that) without talking about the huge influence that our ravenous watching of trash television has had on our delicate psyches. Now, honestly, I have to start off by saying that I didn't watch MTV as a kid. I didn't actually watch it to any extent at all until I was out of high school. Lately, however, I've been a bit wrapped up in a few of their shows that I think are actually quite incredible in their own right. No, MTV is not about music anymore, and yes, MTV does air shows like "NEXT" that I think are exceedingly awful for the young 'uns. Bear with me.

When I first watched the "True Life" series, I was fully prepared to roll my eyes and get seriously nauseated. The first episode I remember seeing was "True Life: I'm Happy to be Fat." I could only imagine what heinous portrayal of fat people awaited me and millions of eagerly watching teenagers. And then, well, I wasn't so disappointed. The characters on the show weren't the caricatures you see in most of the heavy-handededly scripted "reality" shows on the network (like I said, "NEXT"). The people struck me as real, and surprisingly, they weren't being portrayed as lumbering monsters awaiting their imminent doom. One of the girls was working on starting a body image club at her college, as well as working on her trouble getting a date-- and that wasn't even strongly attributed to her weight. There was a guy who was part of the "chubs and chasers" community looking for love, and even though he was what doctors would term "morbidly obese," there were no references to his health and the entire sub-story was pretty much about him being attractive. Then there was a lovely girl who saw herself as completely fabulous. In the end of the episode, she went to a doctor and found out her weight was likely causing her some health problems, so she began working out to improve her health. Her journey toward weight-loss wasn't framed by a quest for conventional attractiveness, and instead it was clear she still loved her weight and didn't want to be skinny-- just healthy. That's a message we can all get behind.

So I watched some more "True Life," on topics ranging from self injury, to body dysmorphic disorder, to life on the Jersey Shore (yes, MTV was fascinated with the Jersey Shore before they did THAT show), to being bisexual. Every single episode was taken seriously. I found myself thinking that a show like this could really help young people by showing different hardships and lifestyles in a really honest, open, non-judgmental way. Anyone who's been a teen can attest to how absolutely isolated and troubled you can feel for being different. It's a tumultuous time, and not just because teens are supposedly bratty and entitled. One of the most important things a teen can feel is normal. So, an MTV show that was educational and inspiring? Be still my beating heart.

And then I watched "16 and Pregnant" and "Teen Mom," which have both seem to have gotten some flack for glamorizing teen pregnancy. But I have to say, you guys, that this is so far from the truth. I truly believe that anyone who would say that hasn't actually watched the shows and is just reacting to the name and the concept. Yes, these shows follow teen mothers, but they do it with such incredible honesty and heart. You see all the hardship and pain these girls go through as well as their triumphs. "Teen Mom" follows four of the Season 1 "16 and Pregnant" girls and it's amazing to see how most of them (barring Amber) have blossomed into incredibly strong women and mothers. Catelynn and Tyler's story even shows a different side of the teen pregnancy story: the two chose adoption. They also seem to have a wonderfully healthy, loving relationship, which was helped through some rough patches by couples counseling: adult couples, take notice. Another mom, Farrah, goes to counseling to deal with the loss of her baby's father and the trouble she has at home. I just can't express how great I think it is that teens are being shown that it is okay and normal to go to see a therapist.

This show, like Jersey Shore, does show some violence. Amber and Gary have a disturbingly volatile relationship, lately causing many of their segments to be followed-up with the number of a domestic abuse hotline. Amber is mostly the abusive one, and her worst outburst actually occurred-- wait for it-- because Gary, the baby's father, threatened to call child services. She beat him because he wanted to take her baby away... which, you know, probably indicates that the baby should be taken away. The way Gary deals with Amber is heart-wrenching. He maintains that he loves her and wants to work it out even though he's being screamed at, blamed, ridiculed, punched, and hit on what appears to be a regular basis. Gary's case is especially jarring to viewers because it's a really rare thing that we see a man as the victim of abuse in the media.

I have a hard time witnessing the violence that goes on between them-- emotional and physical-- especially because their daughter is always underfoot. Her daughter has actually seemed to learn that the appropriate way to deal with someone who is upset is to frown, point, and say "Quiet, now" (yes, what you see in this .gif did happen). This poor child is obviously being raised in a terrible household by two parents that were quite ill-prepared for children (in her episode of "16 and Pregnant," Amber even says that she had never wanted children... and it seems abundantly clear that her original plan would have been best for her). It's hard seeing this stuff happening knowing MTV probably can't intervene (because these shows are supposed to be like documentaries). Abuse isn't something a lot of will witness firsthand unless we're in the situations ourselves. I applaud MTV for showing these scenes because they're so clearly not okay. It's frightening, and maybe seeing other people that are abused will help young people realize that they shouldn't be treated like this and to get help.

So is MTV trash? Sure, some of it is, but I see a whole lot of room for many of its programs to be used as educational touchstones: watching these shows provides parents with an opportunity to talk with their kids about some really important issues. But, of course, even though this can be such a difficult time, teens often don't want to talk to parents. An opportunity for kids to be seeing how people their own age deal with the same hard questions and challenges isn't one we should be passing up. If there's one thing I know I needed in my teens, it was anything that would help me feel like I wasn't alone.

And no matter what way you slice it, MTV has come a long way since "Beavis and Butthead."

When was the last time you watched MTV? Have you ever seen "True Life," "16 and Pregnant," or "Teen Mom"? What did you think?

Monday Music: King of Anything by Sara Bareilles

2010-10-25T06:00:00.002-04:00

Awhile ago, I told you that this song should be your new theme song. Well, if you're planning on making a whole darn playlist of theme songs, you'll have to add this one.

What songs make you feel awesome lately?

Love 365: Day 283 - 289

2010-10-22T23:51:00.000-04:00

love is the only rule

I love that I'm keeping up with the news more frequently.

I love that I'm something of a Feminist nowadays.

I love that I'm kinda sorta stronger than my boyfriend.

I love my tendency to make funny faces to myself.

I love how a cup of tea can make my day.

I love that I don't let fear stop me.

I love how I am getting better every day.

--Me

******

I love that I'm not a douche when I go to the gym.

--Luke

******

I love my bravery.

I love that I'm a supremely good kisser (so I'm told).

--Kat

******

Love 365 Needs You!

Share the Love by E-mailing Me at:

ChickenSoupForTheDorkySoul@Gmail.Com

On Letters to An Ex-Boyfriend

2010-10-21T21:21:00.002-04:00

here

When I refer to ex-boyfriends on here, I am usually referring to my heinously douchey first boyfriend; today, I am not. And at the risk of making my current boyfriend feel a little awkward, I wanted to talk a bit about the second one while simultaneously hoping that if he ever comes across this he doesn't think I'm a huge creep. I really don't know where this post is going, so it may be a bit ramble-y, but I just wanted to talk (write) some things out.

My second real boyfriend has been written about here before. He was, sadly, one of those rebound relationships. I was broken up from Douchey First Boyfriend and a close guy-friend of mine set us up on a blind date. We went to a county fair together and it was supremely awkward. The only actual memory I have of that first date is when we went to look at the bunnies and tried desperately not to make eye contact. I, for one, was probably blushing the whole time.

On our second date, my mother (this was high school when neither of us had licenses) drove us to the mall to see a Jet Li flick. We ended up seeing the movie, having an impromptu dinner at IHOP, and then walking to Borders Books. I should have guessed we were destined to be when he thought up looking at books as a romantic idea. We then walked about a mile or so to the library. We sat under the gazebo, side by side, still not making eye contact in the way that people who really, really want to kiss do. We didn't.

I got a text message that night: "I wish I had kissed you." I wished he did, too.

At some point we were officially an item.

We had more things in common than I did with that first boyfriend. We were both martial artists, for one. When for some mysterious reason my dining room table went away for a few weeks and we had an open room, we would grapple in a very non-innuendo-y kind of way. My mother was livid that I insisted on sparring with him the day before marching band senior pictures and got a huge scrape across my forehead. I saw it as a badge of honor. I liked that he treated me as "one of the guys" in that sense. I learned later that it may have been one of the downfalls of our relationship. You never want to hear your boyfriend say "you're more of a 'friends' type girl."

But I'm getting away from the point. This was the guy who biked forty minutes in the cold to be my knight in shining armor. This is the guy who was okay with it when I told him early on that I wasn't over my ex and that I didn't know what I'd do if he wanted me back. This was the guy who spent so many nights just holding me as I cried over another man. This was the guy who sat on my couch one night as my ex explained to me over the phone exactly why he would never love me again. This was the guy who, on that night, put his arm around me when I hung up the phone and was silent with me when that was exactly what I needed. This was the guy who told me one night as I gripped his shoulders that he could feel how vulnerable and lost I was through my thumbs. This was the guy who told me he loved me on the porch one night in the Borat voice because he thought he could get away with that, but I knew the truth and I loved him, too. He had a knack for being silly and kind and patient.

When he broke up with me, I wasn't as sad as I should have been, but I begged for him to stay anyhow. I was lost at that point in my life, as he'd noticed. But this was the guy that didn't want to see me get hurt anymore. He knew what he had to do and he stood firm. And he made sure before we hung up, we were laughing and talking like friends. It was beautifully bizarre.

But I decided to hate him at some point. I hated him because he was honest, because he told me that he wasn't sure if he had ever loved me loved me. We had had sex, and I think at that point I rushed into it-- rushed him into it, a guy who insisted he would wait-- purely out of the deluded idea I had at the time that if I tried hard enough, sex would make boys stay, make them love me. And I was hurt.

From then on, I painted him as a monster. But as I got a bit older, I started to see things differently. I asked the friend who'd set us up about him much later.

"He loved you," my friend said. "I've never seen him like he was with you before. He felt so sorry for what you went through. Seeing you so hurt, hurt him. That was real."

And gradually I realized that maybe this guy had broken up with me, and maybe I was angry that he didn't love me as a girlfriend, but maybe I had really been the mean one in the relationship and that he didn't deserve me putting his reputation through the ringer. It took me a few years to actually believe that maybe I was the problem-- or at least a big part of it. And it was hard for me to acknowledge that I could be so cruel in my quest to heal my emotional wounds. My second relationship was a "rebound relationship" to be sure, and I can say now that I wasn't ready emotionally to be with anyone. And I hadn't been ready for quite some time to cope with the fact that maybe in this relationship, I was the one dragging a human heart to Hell and back.

I've been thinking for awhile now about writing him a letter-- to give myself a little piece of mind, I guess. I want to write a letter to tell him that I'm sorry for wasting his time and for painting him the villain when it was I who deserved the brunt of the blame. And he never blamed me still. I want to write a letter to say thank you for the way he was there for me at a very rough time in my life. I may not have been ready to love him then, but I love him now for giving me the kindness I so needed, even if I wasn't ready to fully accept it.

Will I write him? I don't know. But this is a start.

Have you ever been surprised looking back at a relationship? Have you ever dated on the rebound? What did you learn from the experience?

What is Love?

2010-10-19T20:57:00.000-04:00

here

My boyfriend was looking at the last Love 365 and saw that I said I love my stretch marks. He looked at me, eyebrow raised, and said, "really?" I nodded. "Does anybody?" he asked.

Love 365 was my new year's resolution. It was a commitment to recognizing parts of me-- my mind, my body, my actions-- that made me worthwhile. Some of the things I've said I love, well, I'm not sure if I can say I love them all the time. That isn't to say, though, that saying I love those things is some kind of lie.

Love is a process. Love is something you start doing when you wake up in the morning, and only postpone due to unconsciousness when you go to bed at night. Love is what you do with things that are hard to like. Love is what we must have those parts of us we don't like. Love is saying that we are not perfect but we are okay.

And on that note, I read on the Internet once about a girl who had never seen stretch marks before. Upon seeing them on her friend's body, she pointed them out. The friend was embarrassed. "That's so cool" the girl said, "it's like you have lightning on your hips!"

What's something about you you love but don't like?

Love 365: Day 276 - 282

2010-10-15T23:38:00.000-04:00

colour me cliche

I love my stretch marks.

I love that I'm finally "getting" Lacan. (Hi, I'm a nerd).

I love how attached I am to the mouse that lives in my dorm room. He may have ran away today and my roommate and I are extremely concerned. He was 100% safe here in a room with two vegetarian hippies who squee over tiny animals.

I love that my boyfriend and I would rather go to the John Stewart/Stephan Colbert rally than ensure the proper celebration of a final college Halloween. Pretty sure this will easily top a night of costumed debauchery.

I love that there are things I just won't stand for.

I love my improving ability to banter.

I love that I am self-aware.

--Me

******

I love that I am getting better at admitting to my faults.

--Luke

******

I love my courage to fight this illness.

--Jenna

******

Love 365 needs you!

Share your self-love with us, won't you?

E-mail me at:

ChickenSoupForTheDorkySoul@Gmail.Com

It Gets Better

2010-10-13T19:31:00.000-04:00

I remember a day in middle school when I spent half of Spanish class using a calculator. I was trying to figure out how many days were left until I was 18 and I could leave my house. I jotted the number down in my standard-issue day planner. It was somewhere in the 3000s. I wrote the numbers on each day, the digits gleefully descending as I flipped the pages. Only 3000 more days. It seemed so far away, but if I had the numbers, I could cope.

My mother has been suffering from depression and anxiety since her 20s. But she always wanted me. She never imagined that her mental condition would affect her relationship with her daughter. She wanted a friend in me. But when I was a baby, I cried too much. She tells the story of a night when I was wailing in my crib for hours, inconsolable, and she called a hot-line.

"I'm going to kill my baby," she said. The woman talked her through it.

The anxiety hurt her. Everyday tasks didn't come easily. When I was in elementary school and I couldn't brush my hair anymore because it got too kinky, she started helping me. Brushing my hair nearly gave her panic attacks. And I was a defiant child, too. After age 12 or so, I tested her patience constantly. We screamed at each other daily. She called me names that I can still hear her utter in the back of my head to this day. I remember days when I was backed into a corner and she was telling me she couldn't take it anymore and I had to stop being so difficult or she would die, goddammit. I remember days we were in the car and she told me she'd had too much and she threatened to crash. "Do you want that?!" she'd shrill. Sometimes I did.

In my house I was fat so I hid food. I was a whore so I let my boyfriends abuse me. I was a liar-- and this was true. I couldn't tell her the truth. I wasn't good enough so I tried harder. But nothing I did seemed to be good enough. I told myself daily that I wasn't meant to be loved. My heart raced at the thought of going home. Home was a battlefield. I remember a thousand times my mother told me how she'd wanted a daughter who would be a friend, who would help her be calm and help her be better. I wasn't that daughter. I was difficult.

3000 days.

But 3000 days came and I didn't move out. My mother got help and things got better, if only a little bit. Many people are okay without pills, but the pills help her stay calm. She's paranoid and overprotective but she can stop herself from yelling sometimes and she doesn't have panic attacks so often anymore. A lot of the time, we can talk without fighting now. There's a lot to be fixed with her and I. After years of lashing out at each other, it's hard not to be defensive. But we're getting better.

Mostly, though, 3000 days came and went and I went to college. And I know college doesn't feel like home for everyone, but for me it was. And when I came home from college things were so much better. My mother and I don't get along. When I tell the story of my childhood this way, she comes off as evil-- and parts of her were certainly nasty. Parts of her have shown me who I never want to be to my children, or to anyone. But my mother sacrificed for me, too. She sacrificed time and money and maybe some of her sanity. My mother is a woman who was deeply wounded by her own mind, and I can understand that now. It doesn't absolve her, but at least I can understand it, and I can empathize. I am grateful to her, even with everything that happened when I was younger. I know that we aren't so great for each other, but we're working on it. She's getting better. And though I seem to have inherited her anxiety problems, I am going to get better, too.

I remember feeling hopeless. I remember being a teenager and just wanting the world to stop and everything to go away and for someone to understand. It took way over 3000 days for things to get better-- and it's still a process. Getting better isn't a one-shot deal. Every day I fight to get along with my mother. I fight to remember that I am beautiful. I fight to remember that I am worthwhile. I fight to remember that it is okay to make mistakes. I fight, and you have to fight, too. It might take a long time for things to get better, but it does. Not every day is perfect, but I am a far better woman than I was back in my teenage years. I've learned so much. And you know what? I wouldn't be the woman I am today without the bad things. The people who hurt you-- no matter who they are-- will make you stronger.

My story is not about being gay, but I think all of us can relate to feeling sad and desperate and stuck. It breaks my heart to think of all the people who get bullied because of their sexual identity (and for any other reason as well). No one deserves that kind of treatment. I go to a college right now that is exceedingly open, though, and I have seen first-hand how much love and acceptance can be shown to all kinds of people. The people here at Clark give me hope. A lot of us 20-somethings aren't so bad, and a lot of us are yearning for a more open, accepting, beautiful world. And we can make that happen. We need you to help us by staying alive. We need the people who are being singled out and hurt by their peers to be strong and be fearless. Know that there are people out there fighting for you, hard.

It gets better. You get better.

[The It Gets Better Project is mostly a video project-- check out some amazingly inspirational videos here]

Here's a little game I thought up (though it's highly possible it already exists):

1. Log on to your Youtube account. I'm pretty sure you need one to make this work.

2. Go look at what videos it recommends you watch.

3. Share them. Even if they're stupid/weird/embarrassing. Actually, especially if they're stupid/weird/embarrassing. We're all friends here, so you need not fear any judging. (Try to be honest and not refresh thirty times or watch a bunch of Very Cool Videos in order to look awesome. Dorky is good).

I'll go first!

(actual poem starts at about 1 minute)

I have actually never played this game. It's probably recommended because of my boyfriend. But Castlevania games are really awesome and if you don't play them and you like a challenge you totally should change that ASAP.

I don't ever remember looking at koalas, but I'm totally okay with Youtube showing them to me anyway.

Yes to this.

Your turn! What does Youtube want you to watch? Share the videos in the comments and feel free to turn this into a blog post! (Let me know if you do and I'll put a link to it on this post).

Don't Semicolon and Drive

2010-10-11T06:00:00.001-04:00

Last week, one of my professors asked us to do some peer-editing. We were put into group of three and were asked to exchange papers we had written in the past for other classes.

It started out innocent enough, that paper about mythopoetics. Everything was okay. I was learning about Wallace Stevens and about how he really likes poetry to the point of worshiping it... or something. It was interesting, even. I don't know a lot about Wallace Stevens. I was receiving an education just fine.

Until it came along.

Right there. Right in the middle of a sentence where it didn't belong.

A semicolon.

"He is the angel between human thought and its association with the world; traveling between the poetic imagination and reality."

It looked that big to me, I swear. I stared for a moment. The person who used this semicolon had made a bold move. I circled the semicolon. I drew an arrow pointing to the second part of the sentence and wrote "this is not an independent clause."

And then I crossed that out. What if I was wrong? To cover my ass, I scribbled in "incorrect use." It would be vague enough to work.

I'm not really sure why, but once a person declares an English major, it's like they're under the impression that they've been issued a Semicolon License or something. If you're an English major, you can just put them anywhere you like, because you are smart and you read books. I read a lot of books and I am pretty sure I am never confident about when and when not to use a semicolon. I never got the memo than my status as English major made me a godly user of semicolons.

Oh, wait, because it doesn't.

Kurt Vonnegut once said "Here is a lesson in creative writing. First rule: Do not use semicolons. They are transvestite hermaphrodites representing absolutely nothing. All they do is show you've been to college."

All a semicolon does is show that you are, or were, an English major, and that you feel that you have earned your Semicolon License. But that's a lie. Just don't do it. There is always a safer way.

And in conclusion, I give you The Oatmeal. Go there and learn.

Love 365: 269 - 275

2010-10-08T23:11:00.000-04:00

glamour and passione

I love that I'm a hopeless romantic.

I love how terrible I am on camera. I'm a bit caught-up in my own awkwardness.

I love that I draw "victory giraffes" for my boyfriend when he does something particularly well. It's a like gold star but with a longer neck. (If I had a scanner I would draw you one-- they're just regular giraffes except so badly-drawn it's endearing).

I love that I've got plenty of photos of me and Sigmund Freud-- the statue, of course. A Clarkie tradition! (That picture is from Freshman year-- what a blast from the past!)

I love that I forgive myself for the little things.

I love that I am a Spongebob-quoting machine.

I love that I finally decided my Capstone project (and, you guys, you are wonderful for wanting to help!)

--Me

******

I love how I'm going to kick the LSAT in its face.

--Luke (everyone send some positive thoughts his way for tomorrow morning!)

******

I love that I haven't let my mum or anyone else talk me out of being vegan.

I love that I am gay, dammit!

--Heather Ann

******

What do you love about you?

Share with us! E-mail me at:

ChickenSoupForTheDorkySoul@Gmail.Com

Body-Con OR Help Wanted!

2010-10-07T20:37:00.001-04:00

weheartit

This post is not a real post, per se. This post is a call for help. From you.

For the bazillionth time, this is my senior year of college. Come May, I will graduate and be off on my way to Real Life, where I will get a Very Official Real-Person Job and maybe an apartment with my law school bound boyfriend and everything will be peachy keen and I will never be a child again OMGIAMHAVINGANEXISTENTIALCRISISABOUTLEAVINGCOLLEGE okay I forgot to breathe for a second there.

Anyway, being a senior means I have to do a "final project." I put quotation marks in there because my "final project" will be happening this semester, and I have a whole 'nother semester to go... so it probably won't be the actual last project, I'm guessing. That said, it is the most important and I get to decide what it's going to be as long as it relates to my English major specialization. I'm specializing in journalism, so I get special privileges with this project. While regular English majors will have to write long papers about Blake or something, I get to pretty much have free reign as long as I do a couple reflection papers and whatever ends up being passed in resembles journalism.

Wanna guess what my topic is? You'll never believe it.

Yup, body image.

Here's what I want to do: I want to create a series of narrative interviews that talk about bodies and make them human again. Hatred and envy and misunderstanding of all kinds of different bodies are these powerful forces that lead us to objectify each other. I know we've all thought of someone at some point as the skinny bitch or the fat chick or the ugly girl or the beauty queen or whatever it may be. We live in a society where the general view of bodies is so skewed that many of us have stopped considering the actual people inside them.

My goal is to get some really great interviews from a diverse group of people, and through unique, triumphant, heartbreaking, and inspiring stories, put the human face back on the body. We are not our weight. We are not our height. We are not our hair. We are human first, and all people, no matter what they look like, should be seen that way. We all make judgments, but it's time we remembered that when we place such a high value on bodies-- for which there are no real universal beauty standards-- we hinder the people inside them.

So why do I need your help? Because I need people to talk to.

Who do I need? Anyone. I want people who are fat, skinny, average, athletic, male, female, transgendered, short, tall, and any other thing you can imagine. Are you a person? I want to talk to you.

What I'm looking for, as I said before, are stories that might be hard to tell. I want to get something that is deeper than what you usually see in a magazine. I want to do interviews that are in-depth enough that I can actually create a snapshot (or a series of snapshots) of an important development in your life with your body.

I understand that I am an Internet stranger and that talking about really personal things-- whether they be triumphs or tragedies-- would be difficult. But maybe you could get something even more than having your story told out of this. It can be so cathartic to talk about the things that have hurt us. It feels amazing to be unabashedly proud of our accomplishments. And if I know you lovely people at all, I know you are the kind of body image warriors I want to talk to.

The interviews wouldn't necessarily have to be over the phone (certainly not in person unless you live in the Worcester/Boston area) because I know that's quite expensive. We can draw up the details as we go. And honestly, I just decided on this project today so we'll be working through this together. If there's a huge outpouring of people, I'll figure out how many people I can actually talk to, but I'm playing that by ear as well.

So if you're at all interested in having a talk, please let me know in the comments (preferably including your e-mail) or e-mail me at:
ChickenSoupForTheDorkySoul@Gmail.Com.

Results May Vary

2010-10-06T21:05:00.001-04:00

kaliyuga

*If you click but one link, click this one: You Are Okay.

*It's a rainy day and I'm sitting around listening to Bob Dylan and writing/blogging/doing homework. I feel like quite the hipster. I'm hoping today is the beginning of a more regular blogging schedule, so yay to that! I really miss posting here five days a week and it makes me feel guilty. Unfortunately, my professors don't care (imagine that). It's been a very hectic beginning of the year, but I love you all for hanging in there with me and returning to my little corner of the internet :) On to the links!

*Inspiring, beautiful photographs of animals from Boston.com.

*Jezebel posted an Open Letter From A Grenade (if you don't watch Jersey Shore, this means a fat, ugly girl, usually "up in da club"-- skinny, ugly girls are "landmines." Lovely, right?). You go, girl!

i will live

*I know some of y'all are total nerds and would love some minimalist Pokemon desktop backgrounds. Mine is the Dratini one right now, if you wanted to know. (If you like Pokemon, you should go laugh at this Bidoof video, too).

*Sal doesn't think we should get to decide what people "should" wear.

*This may be a little gross to some of you who don't like bugs, but this video about Japanese honeybees is really interesting. They're little wing'd warriors.

mein parfum

*Please tell me someone else remembers Professor Iris.

*Ever played Toast of War? No? Well you should. Whenever I remember this game I spend way too long playing it.

*Sam Tsui does an astounding cover of The Band Perry's "If I Die Young." I've listened to this about 100 times now-- and that's not even much of a hyperbole.

alicebaby

These are some of things I'm lovin' lately, but results may vary. What do you think? Let me know in the comments!

Love 365: Day 262 - 268

2010-10-02T00:15:00.000-04:00

enchantedhamster

I love how I am constantly pushing myself to be better.

I love that I don't have to look perfect to feel good about myself.

I love how I am capable of sacrifice.

I love that I can take a joke.

I love that running back to my dorm in the rain makes me laugh like a little kid.

I love that I don't have to get a perfect score to feel worthwhile.

I love my squinty morning face.

--Me

******

I love that I can do things wrong without flying into a terrible rage.

--Luke

******

I love that I love to run.

I love my sense of adventure.

I love that I won't stop until I reach my goals!

--Darcy

******

What do you love about you?

Send your wonderful submissions to:

ChickenSoupForTheDorkySoul@Gmail.Com

Letters to That Guy That Holds the Door Too Long

2010-09-30T23:02:00.002-04:00

socially awkward penguin

Dear Guy That Holds the Door Too Long,

I've been running into you a lot lately. I mean, first, let me just say that I appreciate the gesture. It's really nice of you to try and be considerate and I always feel somehow worthy and attractive and tons of sappy stuff when people bother to show me a bit of courtesy.

However, I demand that you cease and desist. I'm not trying to put you down-- this is for both of us. I know how awkward you must feel when you realize that I'm way farther away and a far slower walker than you anticipated and that you're just going to have to stand there and look pleasant yet nonchalant for a whole twenty seconds. Unless I run. And you know I feel obligated to do so, and of course it looks stupid. I look stupid trotting eagerly up to the door just so I can thank you and save us both some time. You feel the way I look.

I'm not sure how to say this but-- and I know this seems to go against all preconceived notions of chivalry-- let the door go. Door-holding is nice, but I'm fully capable of opening it myself. You don't need to wait for me. I will be okay. In fact, I want to open it myself. Whenever I see you walking just a little too far ahead of me in close proximity to a building I start to panic. For the love of God, just shrug at me and go inside. I'll appreciate it, I promise.

After all, nothing could make you any worse than Guy That Doesn't Say Thanks When I Hold The Door.

xoxo,
Vanessa

What's one of your politeness pet peeves?

White Light, Black Rain

2010-09-28T17:17:00.001-04:00

LIFE, Nagasaki circa 1900.

"All this pain we carry in our hearts and in our bodies--

it must end with us."

--Sakue Shimohira

Sakue Shimohira was 10-years-old when the Fat Man plutonium bomb was dropped on Nagasaki. She and her sister were the only family members to survive. Soon after the bombing, her sister committed suicide due to depression stemming from the event.

I know this may seem like a bit of a departure from regularly scheduled programming, but yesterday I watched an absolutely astounding documentary, White Lighting/Black Rain. It's the story of the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki as told by some of the survivors. I've been fascinated by this event for awhile now (I posted another set of first-hand accounts a bit ago, which was the article that started the obsession), in part because no matter how many accounts, or videos, or photographs I take in, it is absolutely unfathomable to me what happened to these people. I don't think any of us can, and we are so lucky for that. To think that so many civilians died so horrifically in the name of war is heartbreaking. To think that there are survivors today that must live with the memory of the bomb every day is equally so, no matter how you feel about the "necessity" of the bombs or the actions of the Japanese military.

I'm just really affected and I couldn't think of anything more appropriate to post right now. If you're interested in seeing this film, send me an e-mail and I'll gladly work something out for you.

We must learn history so that we can learn to understand one another. Man's capability for destruction is immense-- far moreso than it was in 1945. We can ensure this will never happen again. But it takes everyone. It takes knowledge. It takes honesty. It takes love.

Love 365: Day 255 - 261

2010-09-25T00:26:00.001-04:00

luna~nueva

I love that I make fantastic vegan cupcakes.

I love that my best friend thinks I'm special for the way we relate to one another. Her love for me makes me see myself in a better light.

I love how I lose my shit over adorable puppies (watch this little guy spin!)

I love that I won't give up.

I love that I got up the courage to call the guy from People Magazine. He wasn't there, but I left a message and I'll try again soon if I don't hear back. I was so nervous and I put it off for a long time, but I did it!

I love that I sing softly to myself as I do the dishes.

I love how I steal my boyfriend's clothes.

--Me

******

I love that I was chosen for a photo spread in my college's magazine about beards. Mine is just that awesome.

--Luke

******

I love that I still know how to forgive and understand.
I love that I have learned how to be the classy when it comes down to disputes.
I love that I love telling stories about my schitzy little cat.
I love that I get super excited when I get new treats or toys for my cat and I can't wait to get home to give them to her.
I love that I have stuck to my new job. I was going to for reals quit on like the third day but I made myself keep going no matter how much I didn't want to and now I'm kinda really loving it a lot.
I love how I do random nice things for my friends without it having to be an occasion. I planned a Sunday adventure for my best friend and just because I thought she'd really love it (and being out of the house for a bit).

--Julie, +Laells+

******

I love my courage.

--Heather

******

What do you love about yourself?

Submit to Love 365 by e-mailing me at:

ChickenSoupForTheDorkySoul@Gmail.Com

What Are You First?

2010-09-21T10:15:00.000-04:00

here

When you go to describe yourself, what is the first thing that comes to mind?

For me, it's always been "smart," whether that sounds mildly arrogant or not. Smart has had its ups and downs for me: on the one hand, it's always meant that I take to school easily and succeed at academics with very little effort. It meant that I could talk to adults on an adult level from a young age. It means that I can read and read and read and comprehend very difficult books and take joy in the sense of discovery that comes from that process. It means I'm the kind of person that gathers information and is very analytical. It means being the person in the room who can explain that obscure concept you happened to bring up. Being smart opened the doors to a wonderful university. I will be the first in my immediate family to graduate college. It means that I have the world at my feet because the wonderful world blooming in my brain is infinite. I can do anything.

But it's also meant that I was labeled as a "nerd" in school and singled out. It meant knowing that other smart kids were competing fiercely with me and wanted to see me fail. It meant feeling self-conscious participating in class because I was "showing off." It meant being teased because showing your smarts is grounds for ostracization in playground culture. It meant that I didn't feel that much like a kid sometimes because my mother saw my potential and pushed me hard to grow up. It meant I didn't feel right being silly for a very long time. It meant I didn't feel like I could relate to people very well if they weren't at a similar intellectual level. It meant that sometimes I felt profoundly isolated and alone.

But we take the good with the bad and I've always recognized that being smart makes me who I am, even if many other people are the very same way. I wouldn't trade being smart, because for me, it's what I am first.

What are you first?

Monday Music: Brand New Day

2010-09-20T18:39:00.000-04:00

I know we're sort've far into Monday by now (at least my fellow East-coasters are-- I suppose this depends on time zone), but I figured I'd share a song to get you through it. I like to listen to this on mornings when I'm not feeling chipper enough to want to get up. That's a lot of mornings. I don't like getting out of cozy little bed early, but this is my reminder that it's always more than worth it.

You can see the music video here, too, for a different arrangement.

What songs get you through Monday/the morning? What other rituals do you have to get yourself going?

Love 365: Day 248 - 254 (Slightly Belated)

2010-09-18T01:04:00.001-04:00

sins and salvation

I love that I sometimes have the confidence to listen to ridiculous music in front of other people.

I love that I'm unabashedly a terrible English major (in the sense that I slack off more than I should and don't particularly like Milton).

I love how I often walk into a room feeling as if I command it.

I love that I finally tried coconut water. It was terrible. But I have a hard time trying new things so it was an accomplishment anyway.

I love that Diana Levine and my college tweeted my latest article. I was also really proud to see it displayed in our UC. I'm overly pumped, to say the least.

I love that I can almost name all the states from memory (try this, it's harder than you think).

I love how I remind myself to find things beautiful on bad days.

--Vanessa

******

I love that I think stupid things are funny.

--Luke

******

I love that I'm a good teacher.

I love that I can run farther than I ever could before.

I love my baby blues.

--Nora

******

I love my body. All of it. Even the not-so-perfect parts.

--Liz

******

What do you love about yourself?

Submit to Love 365 by e-mailing me at:

ChickenSoupForTheDorkySoul@Gmail.Com

The Meat Dress

2010-09-15T16:11:00.004-04:00

mtv.com

Lady Gaga wore a meat dress at the VMAs. I'm not sure I even need to say this. Most of you either saw it as it was happening or later on in the event coverage. What I do need to say, just briefly, is why we should all be recognizing a little something wrong and hypocritical here. A lot of this has probably been said, but I believe that people need to say their piece about stuff like this as often as possible. The fact is, we are the voices of the consumer-- of pop music and of meat-- and we have a chance to change the way people play the game if we lobby hard enough.

First, I applaud Gaga for her work with gay rights groups and for the statement she made by making victims of Don't Ask, Don't Tell her dates for the night. I think that's a really wonderful thing and despite the fact I'm not a general fan of hers, I can respect that kind of move. It's something I wish we saw being done more often by celebrities. However, the irony here is that on a night she rallied so hard in her own way for human rights, she managed to do something very ignorant of animal rights.

I was speaking to Worcester Polytechnic Institute's Professor John Sanbonmatsu the other day for a piece I'm doing with Pulse Magazine. It's about his work to get people to think about animal consumption in a new way. I'm going to paraphrase here since I don't know if quoting him violates some sort of policy, but he said that people often get offended by the idea of animal rights when it comes to food because confronting the realities of how food is produced involves actually placing some blame on yourself. People don't want to believe that eating a steak makes them complicit in a very cruel, destructive system (both to life and to the environment). He went on to say that it's also offensive because people are then required to ask themselves who really gave them the right-- according to him, no one-- to cause suffering to other animals on such a mass scale. While I am a vegetarian now, I do believe that eating meat is natural. I don't believe it's natural or humane the way we're obtaining it, and I believe that it undermines our idea of what it is to be human. If being human is somehow "better" than being another kind of animal, how do we justify mass cruelty to other sentient beings?

I'm getting a little away from the point, which is that Gaga, who seems to pride herself on being "the most judgement-free human being on the Earth" and doing so much work to try and this atmosphere of peace and freeness and equality, is taking a step backward. Though she claims this outfit wasn't meant to offend anyone vegan or vegetarian and was just a message about fighting for our rights we'll become as valueless as the meat on our bones. Whether she meant to or not, the combination of that statement and wearing real dead animals is truly telling of underlying disregard for life. If the "meat on our bones" have no rights and she's wearing animal meat to make the statement (she could have worn faux human limbs or something), it would follow those animals don't have rights.

The outfit's designer confirmed that this outfit is genuine meat. 50 pounds of it. The newest statistics I could locate (provided by the USDA in 2006) projected the 2006 per capita beef consumption in America at 66 pounds. That statistic may be different by now, but think of it. If that's true, Gaga was wearing close to one person's year supply of beef on her body. The designer said that the dress is meant to be worn once, then saved to dry up and eventually be displayed. 50 pounds of food. Obtained from a butcher. Meaning its original purpose was to feed someone, not clothe a billionaire. I know that people wear leather (personally, I do not), but leather is not food. Leather was not created to feed someone. And this world is full of people who are literally starving. Making a statement would be going to the VMAs in your underwear and explaining that you were going to wear a meat dress, but instead you sent 50 pounds of beef to an impoverished community so that children didn't go hungry for a few days. What I'm saying is this wasn't a little bit of beef. This was food that could have fed a lot of people. It's very First-Wold-centric to go around wearing food and then tossing it in a closet for a later date.

Not to mention, of course, as far as shocking statements go, the meat dress has been done to death. Even by Gaga herself. She just appeared on a magazine cover swathed in meat, after all. For a performer who prides herself on being new and interesting every time we see her, this was a major misstep. You can find plenty of meat clothes just by Google searching. Artist Jana Sterbak famously did a show on meat clothing. On top of the waste and the anti-animal rights message it flaunts, it's kind've cliche, and isn't Gaga supposed to be the exact opposite of that? (I would argue she really isn't, but then again I'm not a fan in general).

What I'm asking here is not for you to agree with me. And I'm certainly not attacking those of you who do eat meat. We can all choose what we want to eat and put into our bodies and what systems we want to buy into. What I ask, however, is that we take moments like these and really think about what they mean and ask ourselves hard questions. When I was much younger, I loved animals and my heart broke at the idea of eating them-- but I did it anyway because it was "too hard" to be vegetarian. As I got older I realized that we have to be honest with ourselves. I wanted to be the kind of person in practice as I was in theory. Being mature is sometimes admitting when we're wrong. We don't all have to go about things the same way, but we should really be actively thinking about how we live our lives.

Right isn't always easy. When I see Lady Gaga wearing 50 pounds of food that will never even fill the stomachs it was intended for in a world of starving people, I feel disgusted. And I feel like it's her way of taking the easy way out. Wearing meat was shocking, but not for the right reasons.

What are your thoughts on the meat dress?

Chicken Soup for the Dorky Soul

Monday Music: Gotye

All Up In Your Facebook with My Body-Positive Rant

On Body-Positive Blogging and Why We Need It

Monday Music: Julian Smith

Fat People Nightmares

Perfect

The Pair OR The Mental Health Benefits of Letting Stuff Go

Monday Music: Ke$ha Unplugged

Results May Vary

Absent

On "Dark Girls" and the Impacts of Lookism

Life After College: Laura

The Quarter Life Crisis

Happy Weekend

Today You Should....

Why Talk Sex

Let's Talk: Photoshop

Male Privilege and The Cat Call

Why I Read Men's Journal

Whoa, What? An Update?

Does My Butt Look Big In This? The Answer is Yes OR The F-Word You Need to Stop Dreading

On Secret Admiring and First Love Lost

Letters to Akon (with a Little Taste of Monday Music)

Results May Vary

Forcible

The Problem with Pretty

Hard Words

Things I Learned In My Two-Week-Long Absence

Monday Music: The Kin

Love 365: Day 359 - 365

Letters to 2011

Random Things I Like: Boston

Reflections on Love 365

Resolutions Worth Making

Love 365: Day 352 - 358 (Belated)

Neutral

Safe Space

Love 365: Day 345 - 351 (Belated)

Readers to the Rescue!

Love 365: Day 338 - 344

Activity of the Day

Dear Sugar Ants OR Antageddon

Monday Music: World Spins Madly On by The Weepies

Love 365: 331 - 337

Picture-a-Day

Elsewhere: Critical MASS Crew

Housekeeping: Your Advice Needed!

Love 365: Day 324 - 330 (Belated)

What Journalism Classes Teach

Present

Love 365: Day 317 - 323

Results May Vary

How to Look Great Every Day

Love 365: Day 304 - 310

Guest Post: Home Tonight

Silly Searches

Love 365: Day 297 - 303 (Belated)

Organization Tips for the Chronically Cluttered

In Which My Sanity is Restored

Love 365: Day 290 - 296

Letters to Maura Kelly

Random Things I Like: Disney's Alice in Wonderland

In Praise of MTV

Monday Music: King of Anything by Sara Bareilles

Love 365: Day 283 - 289

On Letters to An Ex-Boyfriend

What is Love?

Love 365: Day 276 - 282

It Gets Better

Recommended

Don't Semicolon and Drive

Love 365: 269 - 275

Body-Con OR Help Wanted!

Results May Vary

Love 365: Day 262 - 268

Letters to That Guy That Holds the Door Too Long

White Light, Black Rain

Love 365: Day 255 - 261

What Are You First?