It's been a long time, but I have some exciting news. It's been a busy past couple months. I applied for grad school at my alma mater, Northern Arizona University, and got in. I also applied for a graduate teaching position and was selected. This means that in addition to going to classes, I'll be teaching a class of undergrad freshman English 105 (a basic English class required for all freshman). For this, I'm getting paid, and I'm also getting 100% of my tuition waived which is the greatest part of all! So, in late July, I'll be moving back up back to my beloved Flagstaff, taking my fur child with me, of course.
Life is good.
Friday, March 21, 2014
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Thankfulness
A woman and her son were in line in front of me at CVS. Her total ended up being $20.09. She only had $20 with her but told the lady that she was sure she had change in her car. I was in a bit of a hurry so I handed her a dime. She looked at me like she couldn't believe it. She said "Thank you! God bless you. Happy Thanksgiving." I've never seen someone so grateful for 10 cents in my life.
I complain a lot. I never feel like I have enough money for all the traveling I want to do and all the fun I want to have. But by the grace of life, fate, God, or what have you, I have never been grateful to the point of tears for 10 cents. I am so blessed. I have been given such a beautiful, wonderful, easy life, even if it doesn't always feel that way. I'm a lucky lucky girl.
Monday, June 10, 2013
Excuses, excuses
It's been a long time since I wrote anything here, but frankly it's been a long time since I wrote anything at all. My grandma passed away just over a month ago now, and then two weeks ago, my beloved pet rat Johnny Winter passed away. In case, those two things weren't enough, I've been having a lot of issues at work with my boss which are too upsetting to even talk about here, and I've been sick. So excuses, excuses, excuses, but they all feel pretty valid to me.
It already feels like summer here in Southern California, even if spring isn't officially over yet. I'm definitely crossing my fingers that it'll be a better summer than this spring was. In the interest of trying to be proactive, I'm setting a few summer goals:
1. Blog: I'm going to try and get back to blogging regularly, well, as regularly as I ever blog.
2. Exercise: I need to start doing something physically active everyday, even if it's just walking the dog after dinner.
3. Longboard: My beloved boyfriend bought me a longboard (his passion is downhill speed boarding) and I am going to teach myself to ride, so we can cruise around the beach or the neighborhood together.
4. Read: I have to read more. I spend far too much time watching Netflix or screwing around on the Internet.
5. Diet: Not a diet to lose weight, but a diet to be healthier. I eat pretty well already, but I know I'll feel better if I start eating a little less processed crap and a little more fruit and veggies.
Happy Summer (or end of Spring)!
It already feels like summer here in Southern California, even if spring isn't officially over yet. I'm definitely crossing my fingers that it'll be a better summer than this spring was. In the interest of trying to be proactive, I'm setting a few summer goals:
1. Blog: I'm going to try and get back to blogging regularly, well, as regularly as I ever blog.
2. Exercise: I need to start doing something physically active everyday, even if it's just walking the dog after dinner.
3. Longboard: My beloved boyfriend bought me a longboard (his passion is downhill speed boarding) and I am going to teach myself to ride, so we can cruise around the beach or the neighborhood together.
4. Read: I have to read more. I spend far too much time watching Netflix or screwing around on the Internet.
5. Diet: Not a diet to lose weight, but a diet to be healthier. I eat pretty well already, but I know I'll feel better if I start eating a little less processed crap and a little more fruit and veggies.
Happy Summer (or end of Spring)!
Monday, April 22, 2013
Grandma Katie
So this past weekend, I went to my grandma's funeral. She was my last living grandparent and that made it all the more of a bitter pill to swallow. We've never had what could be described as a great relationship, but I loved her dearly, and I know she felt the same about me. I was surprised how upset I was at her actual funeral. I had written an homage to her, but was crying so hard I couldn't even talk. Needless to say, I didn't stand up to read it. I think more than anything, I felt like part of my childhood died too. Whenever we went back to Minnesota to visit, we always stayed in her basement. Now, not only is she not around, but her house is being emptied, her possessions sold, and we will never again spend two weeks ever summer in the same house I've been coming to for 23 years.
So here it is, my final homage to my last grandparent and what I see as the closing lines of the chapter of my childhood:
Stephen S. Wise wrote “An unshared life is not living. He who shares does not lessen, but greaten his life.” My Grandma Katie always knew how to share her life with the people around her. She wrote letters, played piano in nursing homes, went to church, was a substitute teacher, travelled all over, made friends with her neighbors, and sent Christmas cards out by the dozens.
As one of her grandchildren, I was often portrayed on these cards when I was young, usually in snowy day clothes and always in the company of my cousins Christine and Emily, multiple cats, and the words of whatever song or poem caught Grandma’s eye that year. Being rendered in pen and ink and having it mailed out in a card thrilled me at that age. Consequently, Grandma’s cards made a big impression on me from the time I was very young and became an integral part of the holiday season for me. It’s strange and sad to think that we won’t be getting a Christmas card from St. Louis Park this year, but the last time I saw Grandma, about a month ago, she shared something with me that’ll make this Christmas a little easier.
Sitting in her living room, she told me, “I like the song “Forever Young” by Bob Dylan. I don’t like the music and I don’t really like him, but I like how it rhymes and I like the sentiment. I was going to put it in this year’s Christmas card, with at least two cats, maybe three. So if I don’t do a Christmas card this year, well then you’ll know what it was going to be.”
Now I don’t know what part of that song she was planning on including, but the last verse is what has always given me the most comfort when times get tough.
May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
And may your song always be sung
May you stay forever young
May you stay forever young.
So here it is, my final homage to my last grandparent and what I see as the closing lines of the chapter of my childhood:
For C.C.N. From A.C.N.
As one of her grandchildren, I was often portrayed on these cards when I was young, usually in snowy day clothes and always in the company of my cousins Christine and Emily, multiple cats, and the words of whatever song or poem caught Grandma’s eye that year. Being rendered in pen and ink and having it mailed out in a card thrilled me at that age. Consequently, Grandma’s cards made a big impression on me from the time I was very young and became an integral part of the holiday season for me. It’s strange and sad to think that we won’t be getting a Christmas card from St. Louis Park this year, but the last time I saw Grandma, about a month ago, she shared something with me that’ll make this Christmas a little easier.
Sitting in her living room, she told me, “I like the song “Forever Young” by Bob Dylan. I don’t like the music and I don’t really like him, but I like how it rhymes and I like the sentiment. I was going to put it in this year’s Christmas card, with at least two cats, maybe three. So if I don’t do a Christmas card this year, well then you’ll know what it was going to be.”
Now I don’t know what part of that song she was planning on including, but the last verse is what has always given me the most comfort when times get tough.
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
And may your song always be sung
May you stay forever young
May you stay forever young.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
The Truth Comes Out
I feel like most people had their roughest patch in middle school, or junior high, or high school. Not me. My roughest patch started my second semester of college and guys, it's STILL going on. I'm 23 years old, I'll be 24 in July, and I'm still waking up most mornings feeling like complete shit.
I feel like there's two big factors in my rough patch. The first is major depression and anxiety. I've tried most medications out there in different doses and different combinations and the only thing they all had in common was making me feel like a hollow, unemotional shell. Yeah, the utterly hopeless feeling and crippling anxiety were gone, but they left me feeling like someone else entirely. In my opinion, it wasn't worth the tradeoff. If you have never been depressed, and I mean really depressed not just a case of the blues, consider yourself incredibly lucky. We all have a cross or two to bear and while it's an aspect of the human condition to think that the burden we bear is heavier than someone else's, I know that there is worse baggage to drag around. So yes, while depression and anxiety are my burdens and they aren't something I'd wish on my worst enemy, I recognize that they aren't the worst things out there. Even more importantly perhaps, I know that these issues will be with me for the rest of my life and that they are something I'm going to have to learn to deal with and accept and until I do, I won't be truly happy. The second factor? The factor that is making it so difficult for me to accept my anxiety and depression? The factor that is making my daily case of the "mean reds"* so utterly unbearable?
I don't love myself. Hell, I don't even like me.
Even seeing it written there seems silly and immature. That's how deep this goes. I can't even admit an honest truth about myself without putting myself down about it, about the validity of what I'm feeling. My best friend in the entire world told me the other day that she thinks she's "a total badass" and that even though she has moments of self-doubt, they are tempered with moments of total acceptance and love for herself. She is truly a complete and total badass through and through, so I can see how she feels that way, but I can't help but wonder where she found that acceptance of herself? There are a lot of redeeming qualities to me and there are things that I've done that I'm really proud of and aspects of my personality that I find charming in other people, so why is it that I can't even like myself? How did my friend manage to turn her accomplishments and personality traits into self-love?
I don't know. I don't think it's something that can be explained, certainly not explained by someone who possesses no self-love of their own. All I know is, that I won't get over my rough patch and into the next stage of my life until I learn to love me. All my life, I've looked for self-validation from others, from my parents, teachers, grades, and men. Mostly men. I've had some rotten relationships. I've been cheated on and, physically, emotionally, and verbally abused more times than I can count. I rely on men to tell me I'm pretty or smart or funny or that they can't live without me because I can't live with me.
My new boyfriend is really great. He is the kindest man I've been with and he treats me so well. We have fun together and even though it's early in the relationship, I see potential for something more there. That something more? It's never going to happen with him or anyone else until I learn to love myself, or at least like myself. I wrote some resolutions down at the beginning of the year. Most of them, I haven't stuck to very well but that's okay. That's okay, because my biggest resolution for the month, for the year, for the rest of my life is to learn to love me.
* This is from Breakfast at Tiffany's. If you haven't seen it or don't remember what the "mean reds" are, go here: http://movieclips.com/AEsN-breakfast-at-tiffanys-movie-the-mean-reds/ and watch immediately.
I feel like there's two big factors in my rough patch. The first is major depression and anxiety. I've tried most medications out there in different doses and different combinations and the only thing they all had in common was making me feel like a hollow, unemotional shell. Yeah, the utterly hopeless feeling and crippling anxiety were gone, but they left me feeling like someone else entirely. In my opinion, it wasn't worth the tradeoff. If you have never been depressed, and I mean really depressed not just a case of the blues, consider yourself incredibly lucky. We all have a cross or two to bear and while it's an aspect of the human condition to think that the burden we bear is heavier than someone else's, I know that there is worse baggage to drag around. So yes, while depression and anxiety are my burdens and they aren't something I'd wish on my worst enemy, I recognize that they aren't the worst things out there. Even more importantly perhaps, I know that these issues will be with me for the rest of my life and that they are something I'm going to have to learn to deal with and accept and until I do, I won't be truly happy. The second factor? The factor that is making it so difficult for me to accept my anxiety and depression? The factor that is making my daily case of the "mean reds"* so utterly unbearable?
I don't love myself. Hell, I don't even like me.
Even seeing it written there seems silly and immature. That's how deep this goes. I can't even admit an honest truth about myself without putting myself down about it, about the validity of what I'm feeling. My best friend in the entire world told me the other day that she thinks she's "a total badass" and that even though she has moments of self-doubt, they are tempered with moments of total acceptance and love for herself. She is truly a complete and total badass through and through, so I can see how she feels that way, but I can't help but wonder where she found that acceptance of herself? There are a lot of redeeming qualities to me and there are things that I've done that I'm really proud of and aspects of my personality that I find charming in other people, so why is it that I can't even like myself? How did my friend manage to turn her accomplishments and personality traits into self-love?
I don't know. I don't think it's something that can be explained, certainly not explained by someone who possesses no self-love of their own. All I know is, that I won't get over my rough patch and into the next stage of my life until I learn to love me. All my life, I've looked for self-validation from others, from my parents, teachers, grades, and men. Mostly men. I've had some rotten relationships. I've been cheated on and, physically, emotionally, and verbally abused more times than I can count. I rely on men to tell me I'm pretty or smart or funny or that they can't live without me because I can't live with me.
My new boyfriend is really great. He is the kindest man I've been with and he treats me so well. We have fun together and even though it's early in the relationship, I see potential for something more there. That something more? It's never going to happen with him or anyone else until I learn to love myself, or at least like myself. I wrote some resolutions down at the beginning of the year. Most of them, I haven't stuck to very well but that's okay. That's okay, because my biggest resolution for the month, for the year, for the rest of my life is to learn to love me.
* This is from Breakfast at Tiffany's. If you haven't seen it or don't remember what the "mean reds" are, go here: http://movieclips.com/AEsN-breakfast-at-tiffanys-movie-the-mean-reds/ and watch immediately.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Rape, rape, rape
I spend some effort on this blog, trying to be funny or at least witty in most of my posts. I have one small slice of humor today and then I have some serious shit to discuss. Everyone's heard the saying "get off your high horse"? I actually have named my high horse that I frequently get up on. Until recently, his name was Silver, it's been changed to Branson because... Downton Abbey. Yup. End humor here.
Today, I'm getting up on Branson and riding until I am blue in the face. Why? The Steubenville rape trial. You should know all about this. If you don't, inform yourself. Seriously.
What is almost as terrible as all the horrifying, terrifying, monstrous things that were done to this girl? Branson and I have a few ideas... How about the way that 21st century media still views rape? How about the way Fox News actually blurted the name of the rape victim out on TV? How about the way CNN called the rapists "promising young students"? How about the way NBC News laments the boys "promising football careers? How about the way USA Today (that flaming rag) stresses that the victim was drunk? How about the way ABC News makes excuses for their behavior? You want some personal experience, some anecdotes from my own life? How about the way that when I went off to college at 18, I was told "how not to get raped"? How about one night, out at the bars, when I wore low cut shirt, I had someone tell me I was "asking to get fucked"? How about how one of my closest friends in college woke up with her car in a ditch and no memory of the night because she let a guy buy her a drink and got drugged?
Just when did people stop seeing women as the victims and start blaming the women themselves for being raped? When did we stop teaching our men not to rape women and start teaching our women not to get raped? Something is seriously wrong here. Rape is never okay. Ever. A woman should be able to be passed out in the corner of a bar totally naked with no friends and no one should touch her in that way. No one. Is this type of behavior totally stupid? Oh hell yes. But does stupidity justify rape? Never. Never ever. NEVER EVER EVER.
Telling women not to get passed out drunk in public, not to take their eyes off their drinks, not to go home with someone you don't know is all probably good life advice. Even if every parent teaches their son that rape is wrong, no matter the circumstances, there's always going to be a loony or two out there and the usual slew of truly evil people. These boys in Ohio weren't the criminal element, they played football on their high school team. So why did they rape this girl? People's motivations are hard to figure out. We may never know why. Honestly, it was probably just a bad decision compounded by alcohol and peer pressure.
The even bigger, more important question in my mind though, is why is the media and society as a whole excusing rape by blaming the behavior of the victim? When someone's house is broken into, no one says, "well they shouldn't have had anything worth taking". When someone's car is stolen, no one says "that's what you get for owning a nice car". When a person is murdered, no one says "they should have known better". Why is rape different? Why is everyone feeling sorry for these sad, stupid assholes? They raped a girl. Her life will never be the same and they did it.
I know I'm putting my foot in my mouth here, but I feel like it has a lot to do with society's willingness to "let boys be boys"and forgive all manner of sins "because they can't help themselves". How is this even an excuse? Scientifically, does testosterone make you want to have more sex, more often? Yes. But is that an excuse for rape? No! Not to be too crude or indelicate here, but there's probably a girl at your school who wouldn't mind sleeping with you, or there's always a prostitute, or YOUR HAND. Why does a man's inability to control himself make raping a woman okay? WHY?
Women, we need to fix this. We're being let down by everyone. Let down by poor parenting, let down by the media, let down by society, but more than anything, let down by the men who are committing this kind of act because they've been brought up in this society of rape apologists and they know that there will always be some asshole around trying to blame a girl instead of her rapist.
Rant over. Alex and Branson out.
Today, I'm getting up on Branson and riding until I am blue in the face. Why? The Steubenville rape trial. You should know all about this. If you don't, inform yourself. Seriously.
What is almost as terrible as all the horrifying, terrifying, monstrous things that were done to this girl? Branson and I have a few ideas... How about the way that 21st century media still views rape? How about the way Fox News actually blurted the name of the rape victim out on TV? How about the way CNN called the rapists "promising young students"? How about the way NBC News laments the boys "promising football careers? How about the way USA Today (that flaming rag) stresses that the victim was drunk? How about the way ABC News makes excuses for their behavior? You want some personal experience, some anecdotes from my own life? How about the way that when I went off to college at 18, I was told "how not to get raped"? How about one night, out at the bars, when I wore low cut shirt, I had someone tell me I was "asking to get fucked"? How about how one of my closest friends in college woke up with her car in a ditch and no memory of the night because she let a guy buy her a drink and got drugged?
Just when did people stop seeing women as the victims and start blaming the women themselves for being raped? When did we stop teaching our men not to rape women and start teaching our women not to get raped? Something is seriously wrong here. Rape is never okay. Ever. A woman should be able to be passed out in the corner of a bar totally naked with no friends and no one should touch her in that way. No one. Is this type of behavior totally stupid? Oh hell yes. But does stupidity justify rape? Never. Never ever. NEVER EVER EVER.
Telling women not to get passed out drunk in public, not to take their eyes off their drinks, not to go home with someone you don't know is all probably good life advice. Even if every parent teaches their son that rape is wrong, no matter the circumstances, there's always going to be a loony or two out there and the usual slew of truly evil people. These boys in Ohio weren't the criminal element, they played football on their high school team. So why did they rape this girl? People's motivations are hard to figure out. We may never know why. Honestly, it was probably just a bad decision compounded by alcohol and peer pressure.
The even bigger, more important question in my mind though, is why is the media and society as a whole excusing rape by blaming the behavior of the victim? When someone's house is broken into, no one says, "well they shouldn't have had anything worth taking". When someone's car is stolen, no one says "that's what you get for owning a nice car". When a person is murdered, no one says "they should have known better". Why is rape different? Why is everyone feeling sorry for these sad, stupid assholes? They raped a girl. Her life will never be the same and they did it.
I know I'm putting my foot in my mouth here, but I feel like it has a lot to do with society's willingness to "let boys be boys"and forgive all manner of sins "because they can't help themselves". How is this even an excuse? Scientifically, does testosterone make you want to have more sex, more often? Yes. But is that an excuse for rape? No! Not to be too crude or indelicate here, but there's probably a girl at your school who wouldn't mind sleeping with you, or there's always a prostitute, or YOUR HAND. Why does a man's inability to control himself make raping a woman okay? WHY?
Women, we need to fix this. We're being let down by everyone. Let down by poor parenting, let down by the media, let down by society, but more than anything, let down by the men who are committing this kind of act because they've been brought up in this society of rape apologists and they know that there will always be some asshole around trying to blame a girl instead of her rapist.
Rant over. Alex and Branson out.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Grad School
I've been looking at going back to school sometime soon, maybe even as soon as the fall semester. In addition to figuring out where the heck I want to go, I'm trying to figure out what the heck I want my Master's in which is more important right now than figuring out where I want to get it from. I'm considering Creative Writing, but I'm also looking at Museum Studies, English Literature, History (probably sometime in the European Renaissance), and maybe even Art History. So many choices! I just can't seem to narrow down what I really want to do with my life. It all sounds like so much fun to me. I'd love to spend my days writing short stories or novels, or reading classic literature, or examining Van Gogh paintings for symbolism, or reading about the inner workings of the Catholic Church during the Italian Renaissance. How can I decide which one to pursue? Is there any way to know which one will make me the happiest in the long run? I know that I can always be a lifelong student and continue to get degrees, but grad school is a hefty chunk of cash and if I'm going to invest that kind of money at this stage of my life, I have to seriously consider what it is that I want to do with at least this first part of my life.
I feel like lately everything has been one big life decision after another. However, I have to remember:
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