If I had a tobacco pipe right now, I'd smoke it

Good morning individuals of the internet,

I have returned from my sabbotical. During this time I celebrated feasts of Thanksgiving, a birthday, and rejoiced in the beloved support of friends and family. I know it's been two weeks or so, but fourteen days can change a person. Although I still feel a bit sad, and sometimes achingly lonely, I cannot let the bad times bog me down. It's okay to be sad and feel grief, but in letting those emotions take their topsy-turvy course, you eventually arrive at a better place. There is no need to wallow in that. I also went shopping, and well, everybody knows retail therapy does have its merits (especially when books are involved!).

"A book a day keeps the blues away" is what my ole grandpappy used to say.

Anyway, moving on. I have done my utter most best to keep on moving and looking for new opportunities to do new things. For one, I started an Art History class that covers the art of the world from prehistoric times to the beginning of the Renaissance in Italy (it is important to make this distinction because the Renaissance began at various times depending on what country you're studying). I absolutely adore this class, and well who knew I missed homework so much! I love reading about the prehistoric art and the origins of writing, I think it to be absolutely wonderful. I particularly enjoy the blending of art and history with this class. It never really occurred to me how important art can be to understanding the people of a specific time period or civilization. Fascinating stuff.
I do have a mini rant to add in: In the last lecture concerning prehistoric art, the professor discussed the famous Venus of Willendorf. She explained that the tiny clay statue was a symbol of beauty and love, evidently taking the 'Venus' quite seriously and I must say I disagree with her. First of all, Venus is a very Western symbol, representing the Roman goddess of Love (taken from Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love). But you cannot apply the symbolic measures of a later, a more technologically and possibly religiously sophisticated society (this even has its own bias and implications which can enter for another rousing debate at some other time) to an artifact created by peoples living literally thousands of years before hand. Plus she is also associating a very Western concept of love and beauty onto something created by a culture which may not have even valued those ideas. Love and beauty cannot be placed upon an object created by a society which may not have even had the language to represent those concepts or even held import to them either. The Venus of Willendorf was not some prehistoric version of the Roman Goddess herself, but a separate cultural image for a completely alien and separate culture. The most likely case is for the statue to be associated with female fertility, but then again that idea is also a bias based upon previous readings of similar early cultures and ideas associated with prehistoric cultures.
End Rant.
Okay one more thing, is it really that hard for us to believe there can be statues of women that don't represent just fertility, beauty, love, and sex? That maybe at some point in the long line of human history, women were valued for more than just their bodies and for sex? Just saying. Maybe something to think about.
So the class is great: it has really made me think about what era of history I want to explore more and what type of museum or academic institution I want to find myself in sometime in the future. It also coincides with the advent of Debate Night at my apartment. So far only one of these events has occurred but with some amount of success. Our last argument was: Is democracy viable as a modern form of government?
Talk about your heated debate. I thought it to be quite successful. I obviously choose that it was not (for those of you who read this and know me well, you might know why). I cannot possibly explain every argument and counter point that was given, but a major argument of mine was the rule of the minority over the majority. Although my recent obsession with West Wing quotes that the majority elect a few to govern the masses that is not quite the same my argument. Let us look at the rule of corporate business, again the votes of those businesses hold more power over politics than the votes of all those living in the slums. But also let us look at the flip argument should the majority of people still be able to govern the masses, especially when we take in the size of the majority over the minority in America. We're talking millions on both. Should millions of individuals be left out of the say and process because they believed that something was more important? It goes on and on.
I am the moderator for the next, and my question (shockingly enough) concerns feminism. Does American sports culture foster rape culture?
How about that? Good one, eh? I thought so too. Weigh in, I'd love to hear from you all!  

You Deserve Better

This is such a load of horseshit. Excuse the profanity. But to be fair, that's really the only word that can accurately describe this phrase. I cannot tell you how often I've it from multiple different people. Don't believe it - it's a lie. Nothing more than a pretty lie you're told to make you feel better. I hold it up there along the lines of "it's not you, it's me."
I've had two men in the last six months utter this phrase to me. Plus countless others as a pathetic attempt to make me feel better about the fact I'm single. All I have to say to that is Stop. With a capital 'S'.
Here is some news for you: I am the only one who decides what is best for me. I am the only one who decides what I deserve. Me. Not you. Not you man who broke up with me because of reasons still mostly unknown to me. Not you who decided to lead me on and then tell me no. Not you best friend who is trying to be supportive. Not you mother, or father, or family member, or even just friends in general. No one. It's not a helpful phrase, you're not making me feel better. In fact, you're making the person I was just with sound like a loser and I spent however long dating someone beneath me. But I didn't. Plus, again, let me reiterate, I'm the only one who gets to decide that, what I deserve and when and how. Me.
Stop telling people they deserve better, because maybe they didn't want better or maybe they do. You don't know. In the rare case, maybe they don't deserve better. But here's the problem with 'deserving better' no one is willing to give it to you. You can wait around for better for a really long time, and it won't show up. It's not going to land in your lap (unfortunately, I know, I wish it did, really). But when other people try to tell you this - especially as they smash your heart into tiny pieces - it sounds as hollow as the phrase really is. It's just a nice way for your partner to end things but attempt to sound pleasant about it. Like it's for your benefit. "It's because you deserve better." Well, let me tell you. You don't decide that buddy. Just tell me the truth and don't disguise it with pretty little lies. Because you know what? Even if I deserve better, maybe I wanted you.
Stop using that phrase. I deserve better than the way I've been treated. And you know who decided that? Me, all on my own. And that is my advice. Don't let anyone bullshit you with that phrase. Don't let anyone tell you what you deserve in a relationship, an education, a job, a career, a friend. You decide, no one else.

Feelings, why you no feel me?

Hopefully the title will cue you in, but today folks we're talking about our feelings. Yes, those messy slobberly never-quite-right emotions. I guess I'm looking for a place to release all these pent up feelings, embrioled in a death match with each other, vying for the right to be noticed and acknowledged. But the sneaky thing about emotions: sometimes you can't trust them. They're the hungry fox in the henhouse, (insert graphic of salivating cartoon fox here). It's all so muddled, so difficult to sort through in my head.

I don't want to sound too cliche but my head is a train wreck right now. I have strong feelings for two people. But I cannot trust these feelings: are they real? Are they the response to the loneliness engulfing me day in and day out? Is one the response to the other, or vice versa? I don't know, I just don't know. And that's the worse part: when you can't trust your own self, when your feelings are so alien to you, they don't make sense and you can't trust the own malware in your own heart. There is no neat and tidy way to file these emotions into seperate categories to be dealt with. Instead all these emotions boiling inside blurr together like water colors, with no magnificent work of art left behind either. It's just a mess.
In the past half a year, I have been dealt two heartbreaks, the death of my Nanny (my mother's mother), the stress of being a furloughed worker during the Government Failure of 2013, the stress of moving to a completely new state, leaving the safety of college, and lastly a myriad of minor dramas and tribulations from friends. Man, the mysterious 'they' wasn't kidding when they said "when it rains, it damn well pours". All at once. No stopping it. And each day, I try to plod through, dealing with all these things, but it is nearly impossible to do so one at a time. Because everything is rushing at me full forced, and I have this physical sensation of being bogged down, unable to halt the assualt from my heart. It has reached the point where even the happy things seem like trials. It's become a struggle to pass the day without succumbing to tears. My poor pillow doesn't appreciate the transformation into a sponge.
I know much of this sounds dangerously close to depression, and well, Lord knows I have a history of it. So the remaining question is what now? Do I just keep dealing? Do I just keep trudging through this tidal wave until it passes? Not knowing is the worst part. There is no answer, no right path, no end to this lonely wariness. The ennui caused my listless awe of so many warring feeling keeps me from moving, its a weight upon my shoulders shoving me down, pushing me further into this bog. I feel so alone in all this, even when I know full well I am not.
This became more depressing then originally intended, but unfortunately I have no life lesson to accompany such sad thoughts. I only hope those reading this - if any at all - are in a happier place than I.
 

Women Who Read

Let's talk about women who read for a moment, shall we? Let's talk about this pompous archetype for women which has permeated Western culture based on some glorified version of Sense and Sensibility characters mixed with infamous Disney Belle beauty (note: she is my favorite Disney character, so not too much hate going here, but it dovetails into my point).
Let's discuss the objectification of women who are book-worms: pretty women lost inside the pages of a book. Instead of the ever popular sexually mature Jezebel or the fetishization of the pure virgin character, here we have the sapiosexual woman, the attraction to the mind. Which is great and all, until it's becomes this intensified focus point. These archetypes place women on pedestals where it's her job to make life more interesting for the man. Only she can fulfill his life with her long winded narrative on Austin, musings over Emerson, dreary eyed ruminations over Byron. Only she can fill the intellectual void because she is superior to all women. She reads thus it is only she who can truly comprehend the universe and its mysteries. Her grammar is the epitome of perfection, thus only she can make a man's heart blossom with passion and love. Why? Well, she's read about it. So of course she knows.
Her mind has become some gross fetish; the woman becomes the books she reads and the extensiveness of her vocabulary. Let's not forget, though, her purpose is too still be beautiful, her mind must match her face. She's the rare beauty hiding behind the Emersonian discourse, wind swept and niavely unaware of her own beauty. She is not the doughy librarian in the corner of the coffee shop. Oh no. Our woman who reads is gorgeous and classy and speaks with ease about the merit of Aesop's fables like the rest of discuss the weather with awkward strangers at the bus stop. She is Audrey Hepburn, but with a book instead of Tiffany diamonds. Do you see my point yet? This archetype is not about a woman's personal intelligence so much as her ability to fulfill a man's need for meaningful conversation. Or her ability to make life interesting. You talk about her as being this savoir from a humdrum life. Maybe the man has a low opinion of himself, and well, quite frankly, a girl who reads isn't going to save you from that. I can continue with the various scenarios and exceptions because that's the way humans are. Archetypes don't work because humans, in general, are all different. Unlike Wonder Woman, we were not all born from clay and lightening. I know, I'm just as upset as you are.
Back onto the woman who reads. I'm so exhausted of hearing about the magnanimous woman who reads her many books. These shy, superior women which hold so much sway over men's hearts. Maybe these woman should not be defined. Maybe her books should not swarm her identity as a person. I can assure you, she does more than read. She is not your savoir, she may or may not make your life better. She may lead you on or be your soulmate. The fact that she reads does not make her suitable for everyone. Why does her reading give her higher expectations? You mean, a woman might just want eqaulity, intelligent conversations, careers, and god knows what else, even if she doesn't read? Why yes, she does. Because she's human. Reading doesn't give women this newfangled desire for full, meaningful lives. Women want that because they are human. I'm sure there are plenty of moderately intelligent women who want the same thing. And plenty of boring women who want that. And hideous women who want Prince Charming. Why are we not talking about those women? Why does a woman who reads deserve this august repuation as the answer to all men's questions? Why does a woman who reads become more superior to one who doesn't?
But to move away from the woman for a moment. Can we talk about men? Can we talk about the other half of the equation here? What about men who read ? Where is the hype about them? Why do men need to grovel at the feet of women who read like they are the reincarnation of Minerva come to rescue them from a world of complacency and bordeom? I think not! Women are not savoirs. Just because she reads does not give her magical ability to lift up sad men, or any man, into this pillowy world of sunshine and phenamonal rhetoric. Think again. Men don't need women to have fulfilling lives. News flash! Women don't either. So stop playing this game of archetypes like one is better than the other.
I am a woman who reads. Frequently. I don't fit into this archetype, and well, any woman who thinks she does is probably wrong. That was a great discussion on the cyclical themes in Emerson's essays, sorry honey but we still won't be worshipping you like you are Athena. I love to read. I love to lose myself into the pages of book and smell the fresh glue keeping the binding together. But I am more than the books I read. I am woman because I read. I am a woman because I dance to Lady Gaga. Why not love a woman who dances to Lady Gaga? Why not love a woman because she's a person and she has a myriad of likes and dislikes. Be a woman because you want to be a woman. Be a woman because you love who you are. Love women who love themselves and like to read and dance and wear dresses and some days wear combat boots. Don't love archetypes because archetypes don't really exist. Love women because they exist as they are. I am a woman who reads, constantly, but not in public because I'd rather meet new people and I never wear matching socks.
Becuase matching socks are lame. Like archetypes. Catch my drift?

Mistakes

Ah, the essence of youth. That mindset that the world is still open to you, and mistakes can't completely alter the path you desire your life to follow. It's a heady elixir I must say, thinking that I can forget all my past mistakes, still make disasterously large new ones and still be the person I want to be. I guess that's the most damaging aspect to making mistakes, especially in our youth. We're expected to make them, but no one ever tells you how different they make you. No one sits you down to explain that after you make this decision which ends up being a mistake, how the person you were vanishes and this new one appears, and you start to question your life, your mind, your style, your hair.Literally everything comes into question. It irrevocably changes you, sometimes on the outside, but mostly on the inside.
I know many will glorify mistakes - you tried! you failed! but at least you have the experience! - which is great. You have the experience. You have a experience, which probably falls in line with a long list of experiences. Because life is all about the experiences we have, isn't it? So, where do mistakes fall on this list? Are they good? Bad? Maybe ambivilent? Can we really say? I think the only definite anwer is that our mistakes change us. They push along new paths in life, sometimes they leave us with bruises, sometimes they leave us a little wiser. But that's the trouble with youth, is we walk into these mistakes, feeling invicible, and then these mistakes crack us. They change us, and we don't know how to cope.
Especially now, the years of our twenties are slippery, we need to find ourselves in a world we are little prepared for, and mistakes chip away at our armor. We crave success and beauty and power and wisdom, but on the inside, we are fragile and nervous. And boast about our lack of fear, "what can a mistake do?" well for one, a financial mistake can make you homeless, which really screws up your life. Maybe an emotional mistake leaves you feeling vulnerable, makes you cringe and cry on the inside. Those are the worst, I think. When you wish you knew you were making the biggest mistake of your life, but didn't. These are the times that hurt the most. They make you question who you are, your identity. They alter the way you see the world, the way you see people.
This is a harsher way to view mistakes, but let's be honest, not all mistakes are life altering. But I think its important to realize that our mistakes shape us, they mold us, and they change us. They are more than just obstacles or events to fix. Sometimes, mistakes are the books that give us wisdom, sometimes they are the broken bones that make us stronger, and sometimes they are the missing road signs that send us in a completely new direction.

So life handed me all these lemons; lemonade anyone?

Alright, that's totally a long and unnecessary title. But I've always wanted to  use that cliche little saying and well, here we go. Today is the absolute best day for this. So prepare yourselves oh-readers-of-my-blog, for the rant of the week. Hopefully this will not become a staple in my blog, but who knows?
I guess the best place to start is how my imbecilic government causes me much greif and anxiety. Which isn't good because I give myself enough anxiety already. And why, pray tell, are they doing that? Because the Republicans are whiny old white men (and Michelle Bachman) having a temper tantrum over a law that passed and was constitutionalized. That's not the point of this post, but I could go on for hours about my frustration over my government. Before you say something along the lines of 'well you do have control over your government, you need to vote'. I did vote. I do vote. But Congressmen and women have this particular nasty habit of doing what they please which usually means doing something that benefits themselves.
Moving on.
I am a federal worker, but I use the term 'worker' lightly in this situaion. I receive an allowance from the government (I know it makes me sound like I'm five and I get money for chores, but that's the official term for it). But since the service I conduct for my community of Portland, ME is not considered essentail (my god, helping the poor, why that's the last essential thing we can think of said every Republican ever), I've been thrown of the bandwagon of paid federal employees. But don't worry, the secretaries are still being paid in the White House. Phew, I was real worried about them. Anyway, I'm an AmeriCorps member and I work to held build capacity for a non-profit organization that helps the poor and needy. And all the other AmeriCorps members do service similar to mine. And we're not getting paid. Fantastic. So that means I have no money for food, for rent, for utilities. We have no other means of income either. I know I am not the only with this problem, and many, many others have situations worse than mine. That doesn't mean I won't be stressing out over this, or worrying non-stop. My mom - bless her - sent me up packages full of non perishable food items. I don't think I was ever so relieved to see Kraft Macaroni and Cheese in my life.
That's really the biggest worry on my plate. I have very little wiggle room when it comes to money. I didn't sign up for this nonense. I enjoy helping people, I love the work I do here at CCM, but I don't think I can continue this if the government doesn't get its act together and fix this. I barely have enough money to buy food for myself. I can't pay any of my bills. And if I dip into my savings, there is no guarantee I can put money back into it. And that money is for my loans.
But today, of all days, my car stalled. Right in the middle of the busiest street in Portland, it stalled. Besides the minor panic attack I had, people screamed at me while my hazards blinked wildly and I waved people pass me. I almost broke down crying if it wasn't for that voice screaming in my head to think and fix the problem. It was horrible. Eventually, my car restarted and I made it to work. This is a financial mess that I really want to avoid.
So, life. It handed me lemons. Time for lemon jello shots?! Or lemonade. Maybe I'll stick with lemonade. Man, I hope things perk up soon. I know this is a real downer post and I don't want you, my readers, to think this a pity fest. This whole thing was more of, hey I'm ranting and look who the federal government is really hurting with this. Regular, every day people. I do good work, every day but its been made nearly impossible for me to do that with whole mega-ridiculous shennanigan-ry. But this is adult life right? I'll work through it, I'm sure I will. I can't let life get me down, I will not stand idly by while things crumble around me. Life may not be fair, but that doesn't mean I'll go down quietly.  

Are you listening, Ms. Dickinson? It's me, Laura

So, I've started writing again. Like actually writing, like somewhere close to a new poem almost everyday. I'm starting to feel a bond with Emily Dickinson. Although my poems make a little more sense then hers, and no where near as good. Yet I can really relate to her. It's so consuming, but the need to write is insatiable. My fingers twitch when a pen isn't in my hand allowing me to scribble incessantly into a battered notebook. I don't know if this is a good sign or not. Mostly, I find writing eases the ache. Although, on my last blog post I droned on about moving on and removing myself from my past relationship, the ache still lingers.
I call it my phantom pain.
I miss something that is not longer there, I feel for something no longer a part of me.
It's my phantom.
I'm sure many may call that an over exaggeration, and quite possibly it is. But when a first love dissipates, no matter how smoothly, some part of your heart will always ache for that loss. I fully recognize the relationship ended, the ship has sailed, and I no longer want it. But that doesn't mean I have forgotten it or even crave that love anymore. Again, it is still very soon since the closure. Yet the ache still lingers: it is very small, and rarely noticeable. Less frequently does it consume me.
But the amusing thing is: this little ache makes me write more than ever before. Writing is my medicine in a way. I can remove the feelings by trapping them on paper. Conveinent, too.
I also feel the need to clarify, as well. I don't want to be in that relationship anymore. I don't want to be with my ex. The love is gone. I don't want any of those, which makes the ache all the more confusing at times. But when I write these emotions into a poem, I can make sense of them in my own way. It's not so much the person, so much as the heart break of losing someone so important in your life. The confusion stems from trying to rework my whole entire life, because I had plans and dreams that suddenly were obsolete after the relationship ended. Sometimes, the fear and loneliness is too much to bear, the desire to feel loved again, the guilt over moving on, the anger over a broken heart. These emotions are powerful, these emotions have risen to the surface and faded as time goes on. They ebb and flow. Many of these tides of emotions don't even show themselves anymore.
You feel what you feel.
Right now, I enjoy the company of another while someone I once loved very deeply is very lonely.
The main emotion here: guilt.
I'm happy with my place in life. I'm excited about the path I've put myself onto. I'm very happy with the people I have in my life. I will always miss and long for the relationship I lost. A small part of me will always feel sad that it ended. That's what I'm feeling now: that sadness. The emotion I'm riding for my writing is that sadness. The most intense of emotions, the most intense of events always make for the best poetry.
But the guilt I feel for him is that when I enjoy my life without him, when I find new friends and make a living, when I'm happier now than when I was with him, I feel guilty. And in turn I feel sad, because I shouldn't be guilty over this. In time, I believe he'll be happier. Right now, a part of me feels that he wouldn't be going through his sadness if we were still together. This is a wrong way of thinking. I can only feel what I feel. And I'll write it out, let it leave my body and just keep moving forward.

I wonder if this is what it feels like to be a poet? To start out one place and end another? Everyday, I write and write, read and read. But these emotions change even as the words are written, nothing remains constant. Everything changes, nothing is still.

Butterflies

I've been having some trouble writing an blog post. There are so many ideas I have boiling in my head, but it's difficult to actually type them all out. None of them form themselves into blog post, and just end up becoming pointless words jammed together. Or as I'm writing, I lose all interest in the subject. I had a fantastic topic comparing the father figures of the books To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee and A Game of Thrones by George RR Martin. I think that Atticus Finch and Eddard Stark have some innate similarities but still differences in how they adhere to their values. But both refused to dapple in politics with anything than an honorable and stout heart. But as I began writing this seemingly amazing literary post, all my steam just stopped. It's the ennui.
I frequently have these periods of lassitude. Words lose meaning, and nothing interests me. My brain becomes bored with even my most favored things. I'm not sure where they come from, or even why. Although I suspect it might have something to do with a recent and relentless onslaught of memories. For some reason, I've been thinking of my ex lately. And it's not usually the happy, I-really-miss-those-memories, and more of the, wow-I-can't-believe-I-stood-for-that-crap. Sorry for all the hyphens. Sometimes, I feel like the two of us didn't even release how wrong we were for each other. Also, that we remained in a relationship even after it should have ended. We coasted to graduation on momentum. I could be wrong in my reasons for my ennui or for my relationship. Although, I do miss him, at the same time I do feel much stronger and freer now that we parted ways. I care very deeply for him, but it happened oddly fast, in my opinion, the realization I didn't want him back and my life was less stressful without him in it either. I am genuinely happier not being in a relationship with him. It's been only about four months, and we were together just under four years. I even met a guy I like, and may have feelings for. Yeah, that's a little wrong. Is it? I feel very conflicted about the whole situation.
I miss the idea of him, rather than him as my partner. Is that wrong? Because I realize we just aren't meant for each other, there was so much wrong in our relationship, but neither of us saw it right away. I don't know why didn't acknowledge this, and this may seem like more a of hindsight thing. I loved him (always love him in a sense), but we just didn't fit together after a while.
I try to live by the idea of: you feel what you feel. But what if what I'm feeling is wrong? The pain is still there, but I don't miss his love or the times we shared. Maybe that's just a part of the moving on process. I experienced the guilt, the intense pain, the anger, the loneliness. Now, sometimes, I feel sort of numb towards the whole ordeal.  I can appreciate what we had and even think fondly of it, but I don't want it anymore. I can't linger on the past. What's done is done. Neither of us to blame for this, we grew up and during that, we grew apart. How can I mope over something that just isn't going to make me a better person, or help me grow up anymore? I can't. Which is why I don't necessarily understand these moments or rather lengthly and sporadic periods of time when I just reminisce on the relationship. It's not just good things: sometimes, it's very bad things. I let them play out inside my like a short movie, snippets of conversations, of arguments, of meals shared, and intimate moments (brushing my hair away from my face or a surprise gift). I let those emotions wash over me, icy and usually leaving a residue ache. And then I'll briefly feel the anger towards him or myself. Less frequently now, I'll cry a bit. There are no more sobs left in me anymore, though, and I don't think I could express such an intense emotion over this either. I've moved past such a intense and physical display for my break-up (there, I said it). I still hate saying that, because that also implies things were broken, when that's not the case. We grew apart, we didn't break apart. I may have felt shattered early on, but it's more that that. I think of us as butterflies. When we were dating, we were caterpillars in a shared cocoon. But when we ended our relationship, we busted through our little shells with new wings and starting a new stage of life. So, maybe not so much as breaking as beginning anew, just without each other. That still sounds a bit sad, maybe, but I think it's more of a truth than us breaking apart.
Again, what this all boils down to is all I can do is try in this life, and maybe I won't always succeed. But in trying to create a life with him, I was able to grow into a better, healthier, happier person, and that is what I've been able to take away from my relationship with him. And that's a good thing. What I feel is what I feel, and I can't change that. I must accept that. We all need to accept these facts of life. Sometimes people hurt us, sometimes we hurt other people, and it's okay to feel that hurt. It's okay to try things and be with people and love people, we will always try and try and try, and you know what? Sometimes, we're going to fail. Sometimes we're going to love people and then not love them anymore. Sometimes, we're going to love someone and grow with them and you're going to spread your wings one day, and that person won't be flying away with you. But don't stop flying because of that. 

Skin

Good morning to the three boys in the pick-up truck,

I know, it must have been hilarious to have seen me walking this morning, while unbeknownst to me, I had a little wardrobe malfunction. I know, hil-ari-ous. I wish I could say I'm sorry that my blouse untucked itself from my skirt, and - how horrible of me - showed off just a slice of skin on my waist. Absolutely terrible. But I just can't. And I know, you had to inform this to everyone around us by laughing uproariously and pointing while calling out rudely. I know I definitely needed that humiliation at eight in the morning. Thank you ever so much for doing me that favor.
I just really can't find any sort of humor in the sitauation at all. I mean, it's skin. On my waist. You have it too. I'm sure if you lifted up your shirt, you would have some there. Actually, I'm downright positive you will. Promise. Cross my heart even. So, what's the big deal if you see mine? Were you shocked, that as a woman, I had skin underneath my clothing? Did you miss that lesson in high school? It was an accident on my part; unfortunately for me, clothing tends to move around a bit when you walk a mile to work.
But what's even worse, was the whistling. Do I look like a dog, good sirs? If you whistled, was I suppose to obediently trot over to be petted? Last time I checked, there was no tail or floppy ears. So where did this idea come from, that whistling at me was your next course of action? And then you had the audacity to be shocked -shocked! - when I didn't respond to your catcalls. That's when you got so unnecessarily nasty with me. Funny, isn't it, that you would whistle at me so crudely and then I would dare not respond to you? Amazing, right? After you paid me such nice compliments by laughing at me, how was able to resist such charm?
Well, here's the secret guys: I'm not a dog. Or an object. I tend not to come when called. I make mistakes, and sometimes, even have wardrobe malfuctions on the way to work. It's because I'm human, and I really don't like being treated like anything less. I don't appreciate you humilitating me, and becoming angry when I ignore you. I'm also a woman, and you have no right to say such rude things to me. Ever. Because I do have skin underneath my clothing (take a minute to process that, I know some of you might need it). And you know what else? Every woman does. We have skin, big deal. I promise my waist will do nothing scandalous to you. So next time, keep those remarks to yourself. I don't appreciate you whistling at me, laughing at me, or even calling me a bitch when I didn't come over to you. I deserve to be treated with a little more respect than that. I know that might be a little too difficult for you to believe, since obviously, you were put on this planet to degrade women by humilitating them in public, but I think it's time for you to find a new hobby, boys.
 I mean, let's be honest, whywould any woman want to talk to you? Especially with such immature behavoir like that. Please, I would have a better conversation with a wall than you Neanderthrals.
So, this morning I kept on walking, and did my best to ignore your insults and taunts. I ignored the twinge of fear I felt, and hoped you didn't follow me. But you should be the ones feeling shame, not me. I have skin, you have skin. There is nothing wrong with it. It's actually pretty cool (being the largest organ and all), so make fools of yourself in your blue pick up, cat calling. I am better than that. All women are better than your perverted, sick archaic way of behaving. Grow up, boys, and do us all a favor and learn some respect.

Six reasons girls shouldn't go to college...what?!

Before we get started, let's begin on the same pgage. Yesterday, I read a very disturbing and very sad blog post on a Catholic run website. In the last twenty-four hours, this post (Six Reasons You Shouldn't Send Girls to College) has gone viral and generated a mulitude of responses. My initial reaction upon reading that terrible piece of writing was shock, quickly followed by disgust, and rounding third was anger.
Tell me, how is it that this archiac,  misogynistic, patriarchal piece of shit can still be an idea? Other than as a satrical piece written for a few laughs that should never have been posted. It's revolting to know somewhere a man (this was most assuredly written by a male) actually, truly believes this and wants to preach this sort of chauvanistic crap. And what's worse: people will believe him too!
That's the frightening part of this whole blog post for many women. As many caustic responses he received (some of which were quite brilliant), I think this post represents a large portion of the American, and unfortunately Christian, population and how they perceive women. And this perception revolves around women as objects not human beings. Women shouldn't receive an education because then they realize there is more to them than just ownership and baby making. That women have voices and hearts and wants other than shutting themselves in a home and pretending they don't exist. That's what is so goddamn scary about this: that there are men and women who still think like this.
As many women who scream from the top of their lungs that they deserve to be human beings and treated as such, there are tenfold more in the opposition. Articles likes this, even when reading them, sound so absurd to me, and probably to others. But then there are those who will read and nod their heads, mumbling 'yes! why waste an education on women? They should stay home and have babies!' And these are the people with the loudest voices. I was pleasantly surprised to see so many negative responses to the blog post, and not many voices rising up in agreement. Maybe that in and of itself shows something wonderful, that voices no longer remain content in silence, but instead more women and men speak out against such ridiculousness as that resoundingly ridiculous article.

Oh, here is the link to it, in case you're interested:
http://www.fixthefamily.com/blog/6-reasons-to-not-send-your-daughter-to-college

Greendrinks

Good evening friends and countrymen,

It is that time again to post my thoughts on life. A few meandering threads drift across my mind. I think I'm going to discuss my time tonight at a networking event. My supervisor recommend I try out a non-profit networking event that supports local business as well as local non-profits that promote the environment. I was slightly skeptical. Well, I went anyway. And it was pretty damn amazing. Besides all the wonderful dogs trotting around (especially the fuzz ball Golden retriever puppy), there were several local breweries pouring Autumn ales and beers.
The name of this nonprofit is GreenDrinks. It's monthly all year long. And something I encourage anyone living in Portland, ME to check out. It's brilliant. I made some new friends, and even met an AmeriCorps member! Amazing what networking will do. I gave her my email, and I hope we meet up again. I would love to hear what she's doing with her service.
Events like this always make me realize how much I enjoy social events and surrounding myself with people. These events allow me to expand my network of people while also making friends. A small yet incessant fear of mine is that I'll never meet anyone, when I know this isn't true. Not to sound condescending but I make friends and meet people fairly easily. Which is why this fear is all the more irrational.
Back to the nonprofit sector, one of the wonderful things about Portland is the active and large nonprofit presence. There are so many opportunities to help others, volunteer, and support local nonprofits. The idea of a more localized nonprofit is more appealing to me because I know my time, donations, and service has a more direct effect on the community I live and work in. I want to see the difference directly, know the people I work with, and connect on a more personal level. By participating in events like GreenDrinks, I know the people I meet I can meet up with later on, my money is going to a nonprofit in the area and I can see the direct results, and I'm strengthening my local community. This is an imperative part of the path I find myself on. Whereas huge, national nonprofits are important too, an individual is swallowed by the organization and it becomes harder to see how you've helped to make a difference or even what you do matters. Whereas with local nonprofits, the results are more poignant and immediate. You can see what you've done, helps. Now this isn't a universal outcome across the board, but it's important to support your local community. It should be a priority over major, national/international nonprofits I think.
That is extremely biased, but I think it's something we should think about more. AmeriCorps is so amazing like that because it is a national service corporation focusing on capitalizing and boosting local nonprofits.
Anyway, that's all folks. 

Jane Addams: Google likes her, so should you

For those of you who don’t know, 153 years ago, a brilliant woman was born. We know her for the great progressive work she accomplished during the latter half of the nineteenth century, most notably the foundation of the Chicago Hull House. Her name is Jane Addams.

She was an amazing woman, and an individual who helped to move the America into its progressive stage. Jane Addams also remains a vibrant inspiration for me, and I strive daily to follow in the path she worked so hard to create. In her memoirs, Twenty Years at Hull House, I firmly stand by her encouragement of young men and women to use their education for the betterment of others. By helping others you ultimately help yourself. Although at the time of the publication of her memoir, if memoir it be, the youth she targeted was of a higher, wealthier class, I believe her mantra remains relevant to today’s youth. With so many graduating from college into a sluggish job market, spending some time serving others will having a dual optimistic effect. On the one hand, you’ll have an enormous work force of individuals helping to build and refurbish communities, aiding the impoverished, the immigrants, the at-risk-youth while simultaneously building usable and valuable experience to help them gain better jobs in the future. Jane Addam’s legacy of service and philanthropy should not be so casually forgotten, which is why I am excited to see Google’s homepage today. It celebrates Jane Addams.

The reasoning behind my decision for AmeriCorps greatly lay with my reading of Twenty Years at Hull House. I first read it for a class I took, but I reread it again, and discovered so much more. Besides being a generally amazing individual, Jane Addams spirit, determination, and intelligence are nothing to shake a stick at. Her drive alone propelled so many movements and demanded a great deal of respect. She was an activist for a rather eclectic set of ideas: from immigration policy, women’s rights, voter’s rights, and labor unions. Although a wide range, she was well versed in all and managed to diligently work to promote all these issues without slacking in her other responsibilities at the Hull House.  

She is a role model for all women in my lowly opinion. For all men too.  Her time was spent on ideas, her mind focused on activism. Her generosity is sorely missed today. I think we could all do with a little bit more Jane Addams in our world today, wouldn’t you agree? Or maybe just read her memoir, trust me, it is definitely worth the read.   

Caution: Adulthood is here

Here, we are again. So soon too! Very exciting. There are so many thoughts jumbled up inside my head, and just not enough time to adequately explain all of them. My previous post did not do well with sorting out the facts of my life, but instead just grazed the surface. I really should explain more so that anyone who reads this knows the foundation I’m standing on currently.

To begin, this is the happiest I’ve felt in a very long time. Too long I think. The past three months have been a whirlwind of excitement. I’m an genuine adult, I pay bills and go food shopping (which is oddly cathartic, who knew?), I have an apartment which I attempt to clean regularly but I question whether or not the day is actually twenty-four hours long. I made a momentous decision to join the AmeriCorps*VISTA program. I work for a nonprofit company, in my case Catholic Charities Maine, as a full time employee, but I receive very little pay. Not going to lie about this part, but the money sucks. Not to worry though, my time here really enhanced my personal finance skills as well as gave me a new appreciation for the impoverished. It’s hard, it really is. I realize now that I am lucky to have the education I do which allowed me to adapt more easily and learn new things (such as extreme budgeting, to clarify no, that is not some overrated reality television show). But this isn’t about the money, although that is the topic that seems to pop up over and over. I work in an office in the Volunteer Services department. I love it. I love the service aspect of my job. Jane Addams’s Twenty Years at Hull House truly remains an inspiration to me, and I firmly believe in service after education. Do something useful and practical with your education, don’t waste it away. That may be my own spin on William James’ philosophy of pragmatism, but I believe that all individuals who go through the higher education system should spend some time after their graduation serving others through programs like AmeriCorps or Food Corps. Put that education to good use, not just some personal benefit.

Next thing on my list is my big move. Part of the stipulation of accepting this particular AmeriCorps*VISTA position was moving. Lucky for me, I moved to a place I wanted to anyway. The gorgeous state of Maine. I live in Portland, one of the biggest cities in the state, which is situated right on the shiny Casco Bay. I live with close friends, which makes things much better. But the city itself is absolutely wonderful. There is so much to do, so many places to explore. It has a character not seen down in New York. The arts are all around, in plain view and hidden. I’m hoping to become even more active in my community through some personal volunteerism, outside of the work I do. I’ve looked into several different opportunities and I eagerly await a response to my inquiries. I’ve thoroughly explore all over, I’ve become very familiar with the local book shops and comic book stores. So far, no good tattoo parlors though, so I’m still looking. Although a part of me misses home and Elmira, nothing compares to the exhilarating sense of freedom and this wonderful city.

I should have mentioned this earlier, I suppose, but I graduated from Elmira College this past June. It was very bittersweet, my now ex-boyfriend broke up with me around that time. It was sorrowful to say good bye to so many friends, but also very exciting. Newer and greater adventures lie ahead of me. Although I miss the good times we shared in the purple bubble, it was time for me to leave. I need something new, a different place, different people. This doesn’t mean I’ll forget about those friends and memories, surely not. Instead, I’m only adding to the memories with wonderful stories and interesting people. I love my job, I love being single, I love my apartment and the place I’m at in the world right now.       

Volunteering

Hello all!

I have finally awakened from my year long slumber, hopefully with more drive then before and will actually update this blog. Life Lessons with Laura is back on track and ready to roll. No guarantees, you've seen the poor track record.
 There is a great deal for me to explain to you as my life has radically altered from my last post. For one, I've moved! Second, I've graduated (with honors - go me!). Third, I have a job - sort of, I'll explain, I promise! I live in my own apartment with the three best roommates ever :) and oh, yeah, I'm single now too. Life is firmly on the fast lane and not waiting for anyone to catch up.

I currently live in Maine, which is awesome and beautiful and the hipster city of Portland is phenomenal! There is so much to do and see and all types of curisoities to shift through on a daily basis. Before you ask, of course I've found all the used book stores on Congress Street! Now before I become too longwinded on the beauties of my new life, I really should settle into the topic of this post.

Which is volunteering.

My job is with Catholic Charities Maine, a really stellar organization that focuses most of its energies on helping people. There really isn't a person CCM refuses to help (side note: I really wanted to use a double negative there, but didn't! Score!). CCM has over thirty organizations it runs and funds across the state of Maine (and for you lacking in geography, that's a massive area of land we're talking about). Anywho, I absolutely adore my job and can honestly say I don't dread waking up in the morning. Mostly, my satisfaction comes from knowing the help I give to others. Technically, my post here at CCM is through the national AmeriCorps program. I'm here to capacity build and set up a sustainable volunteer program in order for the organization to process and supervise volunteers for all of the various programs offered at CCM. Lots of jargon, I know. Basically, I'm here to help make their volunteer services department work more smoothly. Which is awesome! I'm here to help people to help other people! how cool is that?

'Why is that cool?' you may ask. Well let me tell you, good friend! My job is all about service. Volunteering is a huge deal. From a business stand point, volunteering is numbers and that manpower (or womanpower) means money, money saved and money earned. And since we live in a capitalist society, the money saved through volunteer service hours mean more funds for our programs, staff, and people who rely on us for help. Yeah, I know, it is pretty awesome. Not to toot my own horn or anything. I'm pretty lucky to work here. But volunteering really shouldn't be about the money. Instead, volunteering is a unique association of truly altruistic people giving of their time freely to help other people. Are there benefits for the volunteer? Of course! But think of the benefits that people are receiving from that time and service. It cannot be adequately counted. Volunteering is an amazing thing! Think about the volunteers in your neighborhood and thank them! Their time, their energy, and their service help build our communities. As human beings and instinctively social creatures, community building and altruism (aka the motive behind volunteerism) builds networks and ties that keep us stable, but more importantly builds relationships we need.

Volunteering has good effects for the community and the individual. On one hand you have a person helping another person or persons, which really, how can you find something wrong with that? Second, it helps the community by growing, stabalizing, and a whole list of other good things. Plus the volunteer gains some good things too. Volunteering is healthy, I promise, no bullshit. Here's an article to prove it!
 http://www.nationalservice.gov/pdf/07_0506_hbr.pdf

Next, volunteering allows individuals to meet, bond over shared interests, and overall, really, good things come from volunteering! So go out and volunteer! Meet people! Do things! Help others out!

Good day all! Arrivederci!

Disclaimer: These views are my own personal opinions and may/maynot reflect the views of Catholic Charities Maine, National Corporation for National Service, or AmeriCorps. Thank you.