WP701: Social Welfare Policy, Spring 2 Semester

I have realized why I hate my policy course...and this class in particular (all about policy briefs).

I don't think it's my job to convince other people to share my views. They either agree, disagree, or fall somewhere in the middle...and it is of no consequence to me. I have my views, but I don't think I need to be telling the government or anyone else that they need to believe the same way.

I'm intelligent, but that doesn't mean I'm right, or better, than anyone else. It's no wonder I use a new topic to write about in my papers each week...I keep thinking I just need to find something I'm interested in, when really I just don't give a crap about "convincing an audience".

This also may explain why I hate politics and avoid conversations with people about politics like the plague. It makes me so uncomfortable. I know you're not going to change my mind, so it should be implied that I am not going to change your mind. Thus, I do not want to talk about it with you or anyone else...because it almost always turns into a "but xyz is better than your xyz, and here's why you're a horrible human being for having your beliefs."

Anyone want to go pick daisies and churn butter with me?

Versus

Now that I have quite settled back into my life in the Northeast, I have found myself making several comparisons between the North and the South that I find interesting. It's not so much a pro/con list, just some notable differences.

1. It stays lighter for later in the South..by at least an hour. Conversely, it gets lighter much earlier here in the North. Example: in Atlanta, we would routinely see the sun setting well past 9pm during the summer months, compared to 7 or 8 in the North. However, during the summer it gets light at about 5am in the North.

2. Roads are not properly labeled here in the North. It seems that they just assume you know what road you are on, even if the road name is has changed. So, if you get lost, you can't figure out where you are because you don't know what the cross streets are, in fact, crossing. In Atlanta specifically, however, they over-label, moreso than what your GPS knows...or what the address specifies. I.E. Peachtree Street Northwest, West, or North.

3. Everyone up here has padiddles (one headlight out). I never saw one in Atlanta the 6 years I lived there. People also have the ability to pass on one-lane roads up here, whereas there are no one-lane roads that have sections that allow for passing in Atlanta, or really anywhere in GA that I noticed. 

4. There is no good mexican food in the North. If you have never eaten mexican food outside of the North, I cannot take your recommendation, because even though I believe you think it's good food, you simply do not know any better. Also, no one in the North has queso dip..they just take shredded cheddar and melt it under the broiler. This is not good, at all.

5. Women can go without makeup and show up in public places in their sweatpants in the North without fear of repercussion. I kinda felt like in Atlanta, only lesbians got a by to go without makeup. You can also wear birkenstocks or tevas, really any kind of casual sandal in the North. My feet and face have never been happier.

6. There are so, so so many farms up here. All meat and dairy are fresh and local and it's delicious. Even when I shopped at the Farmer's Market in Decatur, I knew it wasn't super local (100+ miles), whereas here my meat comes from about 15 minutes away. 

7. I thought Decatur, Midtown, and L5P were super LGBT friendly...but they have nothing on the whole of MA. Especially Northampton, which is basically the gay capital. I love that it's so normal here, and couples can hold hands and be affectionate in public without fear.

8. The bar scene is totally different - Atlanta was diverse and had something for everyone and every need. Here, you have a townie dive bar that serves no food, or it's overpriced and minimal menu (Think Park Tavern in Atlanta). We have found one bar that has served as a replacement for Manny's in Atlanta (one of our favorite hangouts -Mannys)...and we're becoming regulars there now because we can find no other options (http://www.packardsbar.com/)

9. Snow. This one is pretty obvious....but the first significant snow we got (9 inches), I was trepidatious about driving because of how bad 1 inch of snow was in Atlanta. It is going to take me some time to reacquaint myself with snow driving, because I've come to expect the roads to be terrible whenever the white stuff comes.

10. Local news. I miss Atlanta networks, because I swear the local news stations up here are a joke. They dress unprofessionally frequently enough to make me change the channel in protest, the lighting is terrible, and at least one station "pre records" it's show from 5am and just re-airs it the rest of the morning. Madness. The bonus here is that it has drastically cut down on how much I watch TV, since I've stopped watching the local news in the morning and evening.

I'm looking forward to a) seeing more things that are different culturally and regionally, and b) a time when I stop noticing these differences. Then I'll really know I'm "home". 2013 has been good to me and my family, and I can honestly say I am happy, and happier for the changes we've experienced these last 6 or 7 months. If you had asked me this time last year if I thought I would have been living back closer to family and had completed my first semester of grad school by now, I would have laughed in your face. 

But, life surprises us in many ways, and when you go along for the ride, it can bring you to wonderful places.

Happy New Year, and here's to 2014 being an equally surprising journey.

Follow the yellow brick road

I'm coming up on the first anniversary of the "big lifechanging event". I find myself semi-aware of the upcoming date...aware enough to know I'm still recovering from the fallout, but ignorant enough of it to recognize that I've come a long way. It doesn't drive every decision anymore, every thought, every emotion. It doesn't infiltrate my sleep or my waking hours.

I don't cry about it anymore. I took measures to learn how to be more assertive (a work in progress!), to remember that I wasn't at fault. I even initially thought my end goal was to forgive the person who caused me all this turmoil...but I realized that it shouldn't be my responsibility to forgive her. I have, however, come to the realization that I feel terribly sorry for her. I think that's enough.

I am a (the?) better person though, for this experience. I turned an awful, terrible, no good situation into a learning opportunity, to prove to myself that I could be strong. And now I'm happy and healthy. I have successes in my personal and professional life. And for once, I know that it is entirely possible something terrible could happen again tomorrow, but I'll get through it anyway and kick ass while doing so.

All the (very) old feelings of revenge have subsided...because what I've done is the best revenge possible.

I survived.

Popping another kind of cherry

So, in the midst of coordinating a move 1100 miles away, I have come to discover a whole list of "first time" experiences for myself.

1. Living alone. I have never, ever, lived alone before. I've had a day or two or even a long weekend to myself before, but never a time where it went longer than that. Where I had no roommate. I went from living with my parents, to college, and then with Josh. When I was planning my move to Atlanta back in 2007, I had initially harbored thoughts about getting my own place, rather than moving in with Josh. I wanted to establish my independence, just to say that I could do it. But at the time it made no financial or economical sense to live separately, so cohabitation it was.

These last 2 weeks that I've been alone since Josh moved out to get a head start on our new life in Massachusetts, well, it's been eye-opening. I found myself able to do things I always relegated to Josh, whether I thought I couldn't do it or just plain ol' didn't want to do it...opening jars, doing the dishes or taking out the garbage...or even the dreaded killing of the roaches. I've done it with a sense of bravery that I didn't think I had. Certainly I've had my moments of weakness where I've shed some tears (i.e. nearly getting locked out of the house when the latch to the sliding glass door fell down while I was outside and thusly locking the door), but for the most part I'm really proud at how I've handled this being-on-my-own thing.

2. Mowing the lawn. I mowed the lawn once before, technically, but it was a short-lived experience because I ran over a fire ant mound and had to stop that project fairly quickly into starting it. So, this time around, I mowed an entire lawn. I was intimidated by this dangerous machine, because I have a propensity for major accidents (loss of limbs, for example), and was afraid of the worst-case-scenario, however unlikely. But I did it, and the lawn doesn't look half-bad either. Go me!

3. Using a power drill. I dismantled couches, beds, and two major appliances today. When several of the screws in the feet of our couch were fairly stripped, I didn't give up and kept at it with both the drill and a screw driver, and I didn't shed a tear. This is a major thing for me, because I am not a drill and hammer kind of lady. I have virtually no aptitude for it, and my main claim to fame in construction/deconstruction was a "insert tab A into tab B" kind of bookshelf from Walmart 6 years ago. It is wobbly and nowhere near even. I usually give up if it does not immediately look simple, or I cry so terribly that I fall asleep hoping the problem goes away. But I didn't give up. Yes, it sounds silly, that I managed to unscrew some screws without tears, but it's really a major accomplishment for me. Sure, I can cook a thanksgiving meal for 10 without breaking a sweat, but you hand me a screwdriver and I see it as a fancy back scratcher. So, credit where credit is due, no?

4. Driving a van. I hate big cars, trucks, etc. I like teeny tiny cars where I am close to the ground. I had major nerves all morning about picking up the Uhaul truck, having to drive it 3 miles back to the house, and then backing it into the driveway. I couldn't eat all day, because I was sure that I would get into a major accident on the way home. But, I got gas, made it home, and backed it into the driveway in one try (with the help of my very good friend). I sometimes wish I saw more confidence in myself about my abilities to do new things, because it would save me a lot of stress and worry in the future. I see how well this excursion has turned out and I am surprised with the outcome...and I feel like I should set expectations for myself a little higher.

5. Grad school. Hell yeah, I got accepted. This is another example of a self-confidence thing...I thought I was good enough for school, but was I good enough over other applicants? I had that lack of faith in myself, and it was a nagging feeling. Getting that phone call from my admissions counselor was one of the best "firsts" I've had. It validated the whole of my experiences and that someone out there sees something in me that is worth investing in, that I'm going to make a good social worker and counselor one day.

Tomorrow begins the true madness of the move...packing the van, cleaning the house, and waiting for my dad to arrive. Friday we hit the wide open road, and by Saturday we'll arrive, hopefully in one piece. Even if  I still need to learn a bit more about building confidences in myself...I do feel like I have really learned a valuable lesson in assertiveness. That is a quality in myself I've always wanted to build on, and I feel like I can take on the world now. Look at this badass go.

Thanks Atlanta, for 6 good(ish) years. I'm sorry we couldn't make it work, but there are some better things coming thisaway for my little family. Here's to the 2nd half of 2013!

Point blank period.

When I was a young gal, I played a lot of sports. I started out with the usual t-ball, then soccer (which I recall regularly trying to get out of because I hated getting kicked in the stomach all the time by the other players), then baseball (on a boys team...there was only one other girl on the team with me). I remember that being short-lived, because I moved over to softball. I enjoyed softball, and I enjoyed the fact that my dad frequently was the coach for my teams each year. It was nice bonding time with him, it taught me the value of team-manship, working hard, and competition at a healthy, recreational level. It also taught me to be loyal.

I recall a time in the third grade, where after a game that we had lost, one of my team members took it pretty hard and had a good cry afterwards. I remember comforting her, and then we held hands and walked back to the dugout together. Someone on the other team cried out "Ew you are so gay!". I didn't know what that word meant, since I was only 8 or 9, and no one had ever explained that to me. So I asked, "what is gay?" to the offender. She proclaimed that it was when two girls loved each other. To that I replied, "what's wrong with that?", and walked away, still holding the hand of my friend.

Discrimination is not inherent, it is learned. I am thankful that I had parents that did not teach me to hate.

demarcation of a year

I find myself drawing an imaginary line or maybe even a bookend to the last year. Not even just 2012, but from today back through February of last year. This time last year I was in the throws of not only planning my wedding but also moving to my current residence. We were escaping the daily harassment of our neighbors and their constant state of assholishness...I had reached a point where I could no longer take the sleepless nights as a result of the loud music, calling the police to no avail, and complaints to the property managers that fell on deaf ears.

So we moved. To a rental home. Even though it was a "downgrade" in quality (older home, things in various states of disrepair), it was a major upgrade in quality of life. For the first time since 2004 I finally was able to sleep through the night without the use of ear plugs and noise machines. It was bliss.

And then three weeks into the bliss...I started losing vision in my left eye over the course of three days. I had severe pains, and I kept dismissing it as a bad sinus infection. By the third day my vision in my left eye was virtually gone - I could only see if I looked straight ahead. Peripheral vision was completely gone. I made an appointment with my primary doctor, and they spent an hour hemming and hawing about what it was that I had (to include a discussion about Bell's Palsy because the left side of my face started to droop), and only when I started to cry did they stop talking about me and start talking to me. They sent me to the ER, where I had a panic attack after being kept in an exam room for 3 hours with no one coming in to check on me. I had a delightful experience with Xanax, and thought "Gosh, this is how normal people must feel all the time". I had an MRI and thought I was going to die being trapped in a machine that is an inch away from your face for over an hour. I was finally discharged at 1 in the morning, and ordered to stay home for the remainder of the week, with the exception of going to a neurologist, ophthalmologist, and going to a clinic that would administer steroid injections every day for 2 hours a piece. The injections made everything taste like metal. My neurologist told me that there was a 20% chance I could develop multiple sclerosis in the next two years, but there was still little research done on those with my condition - optic neuritis. They couldn't tell me how I had contracted the neuritis, so I had no what to know how to prevent it from happening again.

When I get stressed out, my eye still hurts. When it's really hot outside, my eye hurts and I get nauseous. But it's been a year since this all happened, and if that's all I've had to cope with as a change in my quality of my health, I'm counting my blessings. I still have another year to go before I'm officially out of the recovery phase, but given all that I've dealt with aside from this ordeal, I think I'm made of tougher stuff.

It's been a year and I'm still kicking.

Remarkable

Just taking a precious free moment to process my thoughts, and remark on my last week in my new position. It's been a whirlwind week, weird office hours, late nights, early mornings, and breathing through the chaos. But it's been exhilarating. Coming from the world of newborn adoptions, foster care is quite different. You look at the world through a much different lens. In my last job, it was a bit more of a rosier picture. Great, courageous women thinking ahead and making a plan for their child, choosing a family that will be parents and raise the child as their own. They each had their reasons, and had the where-with-all to acknowledge they weren't ready or able to be the kind of parent or family they want for their child.

Foster care...well, it's the dirty underbelly of child welfare. For example, the agency I now work for only accepts Level 2 or higher foster children - meaning, our foster parents are trained and ready to parent these kids in care who require therapeutic services. 85% of "our" kids have been sexually abused and have behavioral issues. These are the kids that smear poop on themselves or their surroundings, because it's a defense mechanism they've developed to make themselves "untouchable", even if for a short time. In the last week, I've had the distinct pleasure to meet some of these kids, including a 3 and 4 year old brother and sister just yesterday. They have their issues, for sure. But yesterday they were all about cracking jokes...and that is so, so remarkable to me.

Case worker: "what are you doing in there?"
Boy: "I'm still going potty, one more minute!"
Case worker: "Are you going number 1 or number 2?"
Boy: "Number three!"

Why every day is Thanksgiving lately

The last time I was unemployed, it was due to a company-wide layoff, and the months that followed I had a very "woe-is-me" depressive attitude, wondering why, if the company needed to cut a million dollars from payroll, they laid off the person who made the least amount in the company. A lot of it didn't make sense at the time, and I don't remember a whole lot about how I passed the time before the next job came, save for feeling sad most days.

This time around is a lot different. It's a struggle most days, not because I feel sad, but because I struggle to squelch the anger...a surprising emotion for me, since I am not an angry person (A person of conviction, yes, but not an angry one). I've always had a very happy-go-lucky attitude, and while I have always hated change, I pride myself on being the type who bounces back easily and adjusts to the new circumstances quickly. So to find myself on a near-daily basis finding the anger in some corner of myself coming out when I least expect it, well, it's unsettling. I'm usually unsure of how to cope with the anger, aside from keeping busy or finding new things task myself with...so in the quiet of the day with idle hands in my lap, that's when I see it lurking around, trying to find some way to ruin my day. I've come to learn that this anger is the last laugh of the woman who sabotaged me, because she is an angry person in general. You know the type...always has something to complain about or someone to complain to, if things don't go exactly how she envisioned you can expect a near apocalyptic response on her part. I feel as though she gave me this anger somehow, so that I will share in the anger she has.

That's why I've come to make every day a type of Thanksgiving day. To combat the anger, I find something to be happy about or thankful for every single day...even if it's something stupid. Even if there are ten other things to feel really sad or angry about, looking for the good in each day reminds me that that too shall pass; that I have the ability to be a good and kind and happy person and overcome the obstacles I face - including the residual anger. Even if I stepped on a nail while babysitting, and end up spending the babysitting money on getting a tetanus shot instead...even when my optic neuritis is flaring up and I've lost my glasses so reading books is a no go until I get insurance again...I have to see the good in my day. I have to find that silver lining. I have a family who loves me. A husband who is my rock. Friends that do amazing things every day. A warm home over my head. Pets who unconditionally love Josh and I. Hobbies and talents I enjoy. The change in the seasons. The spirit of the holidays. A good hair day. Hearing Josh's car pull up in the driveway at night. Finding excitement in something new. Hope.

So, for now, Thanksgiving just isn't a day, or even representative of a month to be thankful, but it is how I  live my life as of late. That way I can continue to be the person you all know me to be, and not allowing my circumstances to change the very core of who I am for the worse. I hope that the next time you find something wrong in your day, that you take the time to find something good in it too. Just a thought.

I told you to be patient, I told you to be fine

Hoo boy.

I'll be getting on my soap box for just a minute, but then, I promise, I'll get down.

The last five years has been pretty complicated, filled with obstacles, and even at times downright crappy. There have been accidents, illness, financial woes, job loss, and the general feeling of our lives on "treadmill" mode - working really hard but never really going anywhere, no forward motion. But we've had ups with the downs.

We accept the hits we take knowing that good stuff will come with it too. Sure enough, we've recovered from a lot, and reaped rewards - We got married this year, after 10 of being together. But then I lost my job last month because a jealous coworker sabotaged me for the two months following my promotion, and Josh got in a car accident earlier this week. Life sucks right now. Like, really and truly. Not only am I worried about finding a new job with a termination on my record, but I suffer daily from the traumatizing experience of being royally screwed over by people you thought you could trust (at the very least to be a decent human being if not at least acting like an adult and not a petty 13 year old girl). We're geographically isolated from our families up North, and the political climate during an election season in the South pretty much means crazy people get even crazier. I swear, I can't go to the grocery store without coming back to my car to see my Darwin bumper sticker getting even further scratched up, or my HRC magnet getting stolen. I didn't realize nutjob tea partyers had the right to violate personal property. In public.

But I have good days amidst the hard ones. And I know there will be more good days. And I know that my positive attitude will take me a long way. I know that this too, shall pass. I will  be a better person, and I will still be happy and have good people in my life. I was reminded of a quote today, that sums up things right now:

Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end.

It's not okay yet...so this gives me hope of something to look forward to.
::off soapbox::

it's been five days since you laughed at me

So, it's been one week since the big wedding-do. Since we didn't go the whole traditional route post-wedding (or with anything, really) in terms of a honeymoon and whatnot...I've had some time going about my regular business to ruminate on what it is we just accomplished.

And not much has changed. Honestly, I didn't expect it to feel any different shifting from "non married" to "married", so it's not really surprising that life is just as it always has been. I will say however, that it has given a sense of "newness" to the relationship, as it's the first major change since we moved in together 5 years ago. I am definitely ok with this overall feeling though...I sort of feel like the fantasy that is perpetuated through a big fancy wedding doesn't necessarily give a good landing pattern when it's time to actually put in the hard work of having a good relationship. Life isn't about tulle and pink and champagne toasts...it's about laughing off the rain and thunder soaked ceremony, getting mud on your new heels and not giving a shit, and knowing that even if the tent rips out from the ground and food is flying off tables, your new husband is still standing there holding your hand and laughing with you.

I asked Josh what his favorite part of the wedding was...and he told me that he was panicked about the thunderstorm impeding on the ceremony, and worried about how I was handling it. When I came running into the tent with my parents, laughing my ass off at how completely ridiculous the situation was, he felt peace and knew that for him, he was marrying the best woman in the world for him. That, to me, is what a marriage should be, and has always been for us for the last 10 years...plus one week.

I think if anything has really changed since being married is that for the first time ever, I gave Josh one of my colds. Maybe that's what marriage is about too. Sharing germs?

Also, as a semi-official announcement...I have kept my last name. I am not a "Mrs." of any kind. I feel that part of my identity lies in my name, first, last, or otherwise, and have no desire to change that. I also am not a Mrs, because while it is something that many women feel comfortable being addressed as, I do not. When in doubt, just call me by my first name...just don't call me late for dinner. ;)

Modern love walks beside me

Josh and I spent our evening crafting out the format of our wedding, and the wording of our vows. It was a rather unique experience, an almost out-of-body kind of thing that I had, in carefully selecting what will happen at a very precise moment in time several months from now. It was a good thought exercise as well...in deciding what we want our marriage to represent, what we want out of it, and what we want to give back from it. In doing so, I realized that we have a good ten years experience doing these things already, which is a nice kind of reassurance.

In my recent bout with illness, I joked with Josh that he was getting practice ahead of time on the whole "in sickness and in health". Now that we are near our ten year anniversary, I look at our soon-to-be-vows, and can't help but think both he and I have had our fair share of practice of everything else...joy, sorrow, prosperity and adversity. All the ups and downs, goods and bads, sweets and sours have been a colorful journey that I wouldn't trade for anything. It's all about finding the right person with whom you take along for the ride that makes it all worthwhile...whether that person be a friend, lover, family member.

So, I won't muse on any further...just wanted to share a brief glimpse into my otherwise cluttered brain.

Happy ten years Josh, and here's to another ten more!

Seasons Greetings and all that

The last good Christmas I can recall was 2007, my first Christmas with Josh in a shared abode. We put up our tree, decorated together, and began creating our own family traditions.

2008 ended up being terrible because we had to call the cops at 5am on the 1^st floor neighbors for blasting music, and calling them again at 6pm because the 2^nd floor neighbors had been blasting theirs for about 4 hours. It got so bad that Josh took me out for a drive around the city just so I could get some peace and quiet.

2009 was good, because it was marked with visits from family and friends in our new apartment, but it was also tinged with the knowledge that we were still struggling from my layoff earlier in the year.

2010 was the year we were finally planning on going home for the holiday, a first since 2007. We were full of excitement, until our cat became deathly ill and a snowstorm blew up the east coast and our trip was cancelled and we were left with a disgustingly large vet bill (which was followed by another costly trip 2 weeks later and major surgery).

I (and Josh too), have spent a large part of 2011 trying to overcome the major illnesses of our pets, and trying to plan for our upcoming nuptials…all while trying to feel like the other shoe won’t drop. It has been desperately hard to get into the Christmas spirit this year, between the still open wounds of last year and the struggles to move forward…there’s hardly room for anything else. I’ve tried all the usual attempts at achieving childhood memories of past Christmases, with trees and lights and baking cookies, and watching time-honored classics like “miracle on 34^th street” and “Charlie brown Christmas”. Nothing has helped. Until this morning.

A very stupid, ridiculous mistake on my part and the repercussions of this mistake are what changed my outlook today. Don’t get me wrong, I still feel awful and stupid and soo not worthy because of my mistake, but that’s just self-deprecation until I know it’s safe to feel forgiven. Yes, I have been forgiven before I have forgiven myself.

I went outside last night to pick up the garbage can, and was startled by a roach crawling around. I did the normal girly thing and yelped, slammed the door and deadbolted it (as if the deadbolt would prevent the roach from coming in?!). I thought nothing of it and went back to my business. Except for one thing. Josh wasn’t home yet. And you can’t unlock the deadbolt from the outside. And I put in earplugs when I went to bed.

I bet you can see where this is going.

My poor, sweet fiancé came home at 1:30a from a long day at work, only to find he couldn’t get in. And I

didn’t hear his numerous calls, texts, and banging on the door because I wear earplugs so I don’t hear the neighbors being assholes. After 2 hours, he finally checked into a hotel. Just in time for me to wake up and find out what had occurred. I frantically call him at 3:30a, panicked and crying, realizing how much of an idiot I was, waiting for him to get mad at me.

But he didn’t. He said he was worried about me. He was worried that I wasn’t answering the door, and what if I was hurt or worse. His rational side figured I was wearing earplugs, but he still had that moment of “what if?”. He was relieved to know I was ok….even though I was an absolute dumbass and deserve a public flogging.

He showed me unconditional love this morning, at 4am when he arrived home. When I deserved it the least, he gave it in spades. That, to me, is the meaning of Christmas. And my figurative heart is bursting in knowing that I got the best gift ever this year, no matter what else happens….illness, bad neighbors, or whatever.

Merry Christmas, and many happy tidings

Simple (wo)man

Being the planner, to-do lists for my to-do lists, type-a organizer that I am, I have been slowly working on the "wedding countdown" list. You know, the bullshit stuff they don't tell you about when you excitedly say "Yes!" to your beloved. Stuff like wedding invitations (and RSVP cards, return address labels, envelopes, blah blah CRAP). The way I see it, getting all this busy work done and over with now is good, so that when the time comes to put x, y, or z into action, it will be ready to go.

All that being said...I've been researching ways to 'class up' my backyard potluck wedding, so as to not offend any delicate sensibilities. Along this research, I have looked up potluck wedding. Apparently in the Wedding Industrial Complex, those two words don't belong together. All I can surmise from this research, is the world is filled with ridiculously entitled, lazy, and selfish individuals.

Among the comments I've come across:
"I'm a wedding GUEST, I should be treated as such, not as the HELP"
"Potlucks are for graduations and family reunions, not weddings! How tacky, they should pay for me to eat!"
"If you can't afford to feed your guests, then you shouldn't have a party!"

All of these comments have essentially (and not so eloquently) stated that poor people shouldn't have weddings, and that guests have the right to be fed overpriced, disgusting catered food so that they can complain about the dry chicken or cold beef choice they were served.

Cool life.

Want to know why we're doing a potluck? It's really rather lovely. I'm sure you'd love to hear. At the least, I'd love to educate the public about being a bit more considerate and less tacky themselves :-)

We've been a couple for over 9 years. We've been together longer than most married couples (see previous post about the Seven-Year Itch). Our relationship has been a product of not just our compatibility and mutual love for each other, but also because of our family and friends supporting us the whole time. Our wedding is meant to be a cumulative effort, as it always has been. It will be a reflection of all of us, not just Josh and myself. Otherwise, our wedding meal would consist of spaghetti and tacos...which I'm guessing don't "go together" for dinner to you Martha Stewart-ites.

So Potluck it is. This means we get homecooked food, that everyone will love, and our guests (aka OUR FRIENDS, not self-entitled prigs looking for a free meal and open bar) get to have food they love and not the typical beef/chicken choice that they had to decide they wanted 2-3 months out. Have you ever made a choice for a meal you were going to have 2 months from now? When you think about it, it's kind of weird. Just thinking about it makes me anxious..."I might want beef, but I am in the mood for chicken now. What if I have Choice 1/Choice 2 envy the day of?" CRAZY.

Our other reason is a bit more selfish. I hate catered food. I have never once left a catered event unscathed from upset stomach/food poisoning/etc...which as I am planning on being a bride that day, I kind of don't want to spend the reception in the loo barfing my brains out. I'd far prefer playing croquet with my crazy uncles and getting 3 sheets to the wind on wedding punch.

Now, to the past, present, and future brides with catered weddings...more power to you. Everyone chooses the wedding options in the way that most reflects themselves as a couple, and I'm glad you found something that works/worked for you. All I ask from the collective public is that rather than calling potluck weddings "tacky", take into consideration the couple who is planning their impending nuptials. There's likely a reason, and it has nothing to do with money.

xoxo

"And be a simple kind of man.
Be something you love and understand.
Be a simple kind of man.
Won't you do this for me son,
If you can?

Forget your lust for the rich man's gold
All that you need is in your soul,
And you can do this if you try.
All that I want for you my son,
Is to be satisfied." - Lynard Skynard "Simple Man"

up up up

The time has come where my birthday has rolled around again. I twiddle back and forth between feeling anxiety and exhilaration as I get closer to 30. There is of course, the old adage of "you're as old as you feel"...and the truth is, I don't know how old I feel. In some ways, I feel very young in that I have not experienced as much as I think I should have by this age, and in others....I feel older than I am for the same reason. I am older and haven't experienced what I think I should have by now, which means I'm running out of time. And that is a very exhausting feeling to have...to think I am merely wasting my precious time on earth, doing what exactly? Am I doing anything to accomplish my goals, crossing things off the proverbial bucket list? Or am I living a stagnant existence, just doing the work needed to get through the day, and wondering where my week/month/year went? I fear it is the latter.

So, what to do about this? What do I want to impart on this world before my ultimate end? At minimum, I wish to be kind to others, and hope that they pay that kindness forward. The tangible? To continue my education. To be a homeowner and enjoy my family. To not worry about money every time I pay the rent. To be passionate about life, and be content with doing absolutely nothing when the time allows for it.

I don't know if I am specifically doing anything at this exact moment in time that will help me achieve any of these goals, but hopefully I will continue to be mindful over the years, wary of the time, and do something a little bit at a time that allows me to head in the right direction. I kind of hope getting married will help in this as well, at least in the owning-a-home department. I think it will give me a certain peace of mind that we'll be considered as a unit and my inability to keep bank records or budget will be offset by Josh's knack for both...and things will get inherently easier. I still get a little squishy inside and worry if getting married is wrong when 10% of the population isn't awarded this same privilege, but so far my friends/family have been supportive, so onward I continue to go.

At any rate...here is some music from my favorite band du jour.

Up Up Up (Live) - Givers from VsTheBrain on Vimeo.

We lie beneath the stars at night

I think the next few months (years?) worth of blogs will end up being more of a series rather than a random collection of unrelated topics. Why? I am now the big 'E'. Youknowengagedhowweirdisthatright??

Hm. That's a word I never thought I'd use to describe myself, as I felt completely comfortable going through life never getting married, or, if I did get married, that it would be a decision that we'd make on the fly and there wouldn't really be a proposal or engagement - more like an agreement and looking at our schedules and coordinating a time to meet at the courthouse. So this is quite an unusual (for me) situation to find myself in. I consider myself in uncharted waters.

So pardon me as I fumble through the ins and outs of the land of engagement that I've seen referred to as the "Wedding Industrial Complex" (thank you Offbeat Bride!) I'm not the poufy white dress, champagne and cushion-backed pink chairs kind of lady, so I've been getting on a soapbox a lot lately, raging against societal expectations of high-priced weddings and that it's been drilled into our heads that you absolutely must have table favors and seating arrangements, matching bridesmaid dresses, and blowing the bank on crappy catered foods. You'll have to humor me when I get snarky and/or anti-wedding over the next however-long-takes for us to make it "official".

For the moment, we're just enjoying our business as usual, and riffing ideas back and forth. Kind of like throwing spaghetti on the wall to see if it sticks....if it sticks, it's ready. I have been getting questions, so I guess here's a nice little FAQ for all you interested parties:

When ya gettin hitched! Don't take another 9 years will ya?? No dates, venues, or otherwise have been decided on or planned. Don't expect one anytime soon, but maybe we'll get around to it in the next couple of years.

Are you changing your name? UM NO.

Potluck weddings are tacky, you shouldn't do it. You should get {insert cater here} We'll take that into advisement. However, I hate catered food (from a catering service), I get sick every time. It's also not made with love. If my family and love ones cook for me, I get a sense of community and I have more recipes to steal. But if there's a decent pub that does party menues, I'd be down with that. I love me some onion rings...

Where are you going to get registered? No gifts. No registry. We've been living together for 4+ years, we have all the linens, toasters, and whatevers we could possibly need. Donations to the HRC will be warmly received though.

How did he propose? It was a special moment and it came after plying me with fried goat cheese, so I was happy. That's all that's important.

I think those have been to majority of questions I've received so far. I'll keep you posted. I think it best to preface the madness by giving a clue as to the direction we're heading: Rules are meant to be broken, whiskey, and good music.

Niner, niner, do you read me?

My nine year anniversary is coming up in just a day or so. I thought I would do my annual "awwww" blog by letting someone else do the talking about my cheesy, albeit heart-warming, thoughts. So...happy anniversary babe!

"Home" - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes

Alabama, Arkansas, I do love my Ma & Pa
Not the way that I do love you

Holy roly, me, oh my, you’re the apple of my eye
Girl, I’ve never loved one like you

Man, oh man, you’re my best friend, I scream it to the nothingness
There ain’t nothin’ that I need

Well, hot & heavy, pumpkin pie, chocolate candy, Jesus Christ
There ain’t nothin’ please me more than you

Chorus:
Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is wherever I’m with you
(2x)
La la la la, take me Home
Baby, I’m coming Home

I’ll follow you into the park, through the jungle, through the dark
Girl, I’ve never loved one like you

Moats & boats & waterfalls, alley ways & pay phone calls
I’ve been everywhere with you

That’s true

We laugh until we think we’ll die, barefoot on a summer night
Nothin’ new is sweeter than with you

And in the sticks we’re running free like it’s only you and me
Geez, you’re something to see.


“Jade?”
“Alexander?”
“Do you remember that day you fell out of my window?”
“I sure do, you came jumping out after me.”
“Well, you fell on the concrete and nearly broke your ass and you were bleeding all over the place and I rushed you off to the hospital. Do you remember that?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, there’s something I never told you about that night.”
“What didn’t you tell me?”
“While you were sitting in the backseat smoking a cigarette you thought was going to be your last, I was falling deep, deeply in love with you and I never told you ‘til just now.”
“Now I know.”

Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is whenever I’m with you
Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is when I’m alone with you

Home
Let me come Home
Home is wherever I’m with you

Ahh, Home
Yes, I am Home
Home is when I’m alone with you.

Alabama, Arkansas, I do love my Ma & Pa
Moats & boats & waterfalls & pay phone calls

Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is wherever I’m with you
Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is when I’m alone with you

shutterbugs

When you photograph people in colour you photograph their clothes. But when you photograph people in B&W, you photograph their souls! ~Ted Grant

So I have been taking photography classes since September, so that I could learn to use a manual 35mm SLR camera...and to develop skills in darkroom techniques. This has been, truthfully, an incredibly rewarding experience. I remember the very first picture I took (my parents standing on the fireplace at Easter), and I recall feeling this electric buzz in holding their camera. Knowing they trusted me to take their picture, when I was all of 8 years old, felt amazing. Ever since that day, I have wanted to photograph the world.

Growing up, my family did alright for ourselves. I had a roof over my head, food on the table, and clothes on my back. Though I had my moments of entitlement (a product of having too many wealthy friends), I never wanted for nothing. But my parents also taught me that if I wanted something that wasn't classified as a "need", then I had to save up for it on my own. As such, I never had an opportunity to get my own camera...and felt insanely envious of people who had them and got to run with the "artsy" crowd.

2008 rolled around. I had a crap job, came home miserable every day. I made next to nothing, and in general had nothing going for me except that I had a good relationship. I needed something outside of work and separate from my boyfriend, because independence is something I pride myself in having. I scrimped, saved, and bargain-hunted...and bought my Canon EOS Rebel K2. It came with lots of toys (tripod, filters, etc), and I had no idea to use any of it. Had I gotten in over my head? What's an aperture value? What do they mean by shutter speed? I spent hours reading over the manual, but was still coming up short. I stuck to the automatic setting for about a year, and maybe would get one good picture off an entire roll of film.

Determined to get better, I kept trying. Seeing the world through my viewfinder made me feel good. Like I was seeing something extrordinary out of the ordinary. It got easier, over time, to trust the manual setting and give the "trial and error" method the ol' college try. My pictures got better, more interesting. Still, most of the roll of film was crap.

Cue 2010. Now have the means to take photo classes. Whee! Now someone can finally tell me what an f stop is! First day of class was nerve-wracking. I was expecting a lecture hall or something, with some older gentleman looking bored at me for not knowing what I'm doing. In fact, the class is held in the 'Carriage' House of a renovated Tudor-style mansion that's a hisorical piece of property here in Atlanta and preserved as a cultural arts center for the city. My class is a mix of high school students, and young adults such as myself. It's taught by this guy and his partner. My teacher looks like Timothy Oliphant, but is probably hotter because I can actually stare at him in person rather than on TV. Such a relief that the whole learning experience is laid-back and informal.

I've learned to not just compose a shot, adjust the shutter speed/aperture value to accommodate for the lighting and the subject itself, but I can develop the film, then select the image I want to print and run the paper through the chemistry to develop the picture just the way I want. I can even go as far as toning the finished print to give it coolness/warmth in the coloration, albeit a black and white image.

Having total control from beginning to end as given me a sense of accomplishment. Having the tools I need to take a better picture...I almost feel like I was a twin separated at birth, wandering the earth looking for the thing that felt like was missing. And now I've been reunited, and it feels oh-so-good. I've found the thing I can call my own. The one "thing" I can say I'm good at, that's not a passive talent.

It may have taken me almost 30 years to figure it out...but at least I have more years ahead of me to enjoy my new hobby than there are behind me. If you feel like something is missing, be persistent. You'll find it. xoxo

"Self portrait"

t'is the season

Ahh, the holidays. The time to bend to consumeristic tendencies, gorge on fattening foods, scream at soccer moms who abscond with the last [insert trendy toy here], and all in the name of the "Christmas Spirit". No? What? That's what all the commercials and tv shows say. So, then, what is this spirit of which you speak? What does it mean in this day and age?

The history of Christmas really dates back to millenia ago, with the celebration of the Winter Solstice by Druids and Pagans alike. Even ancient Egyptians and Greeks took the holiday of "Yule" and molded it into their own traditions of worshipping the sun gods. Yule, traditionally, was to feast, have general merriment, and enjoy customs like a 'yule log' and the decoration of trees. There was also booze...cuz, well, that's how the Pagans roll. Sound familiar? Mmhmm. When Christianity was the new guy on the block of other world religions, they had to do some pretty hefty marketing to sell people on the idea that this rockin' carpenter was born and was the Messiah...an idea no one was buying. So them clever x-ians said "hey, let's make a new holiday, and call it Christmas, after baby Jesus! It will have the same traditions as Yule, but if we just stick this nice baby in the mix, no one will care! We'll make this new holiday just 4 days after Yule, so it'll be like nothing changed!"

And thus, baby Jesus, the three wise guys, and the barn fit nice and fine right next to the mistletoe and wassail.

So...how does a non Christian, non Pagan, or otherwise celebrate the holiday season? What could Christmas mean to me, a self-proclaimed atheist? There's no Christ in my x-mas, nor are their multiple gods and goddesses, and I'm certainly not worshipping the sun while I tip my glass of Jack at the holiday dinnertable. Good question. It's easier to say what Christmas/Yule don't mean to me.

It's not about presents. It's not about Black Friday sales. It's not about the tree or the sparkly lights or putting fresh nutmeg in my 'nog. It's not about dressing my cats up as characters in christmas movies either, just in case you were wondering. And yet, when I think about the Christmas Spirit, it's about the ambiance that those things can create. The sparkly lights and decorations are part of my childhood. The giving of presents meant I could give a smile to someone I loved. The baking of cookies and the crackling of the wood in the fireplace are smells and sounds that remind me of family. I had a happy childhood, and despite my departure into adolescence, I came out on the other side ok...and I still love my family. So the holiday season makes me feel reminiscent of times where we shared generosity with one another, created traditions unique to us.

So, year after year, even as an atheist, I continue having a certain jubilation for Christmas/Yule/Yulemas because it makes me feel close to my loved ones, whether it's Josh spending the evening decorating the tree with me, or sharing homemade cookies with my friends (who don't have anyone else baking them things), or going home to visit family and feeling totally at place - despite the years and my geographically-distant living arrangement. For me, the holidays are like a whole month of me feeling like hugging everyone.

I guess even if I don't think there's a baby Jesus waiting in a cradle next to some sheep and the dudes with the smelly frankincense, those are pretty good reasons to have some Christmas Spirit. eh?

Thirty three

"boy did you hear me say,
did you hear me say now.
love aint far, well I done mine, done mine, done mine
ooohhh you can't hurry love"
The Concretes


I work for an adoption agency. It's work that I am very proud to do, and feel ever more so proud knowing that I'm one of the only agencies in my region that works with same-sex parents. For the last thirty three years, Florida has been the ONLY state that explicitly prohibited same-sex parent adoptions. What did that mean?

1. If you were gay, and your grandchild, niece, nephew, or cousin (i.e you were related to a child) was removed from their home because their parents were deemed unfit to parent, the state would let you foster the child indefinitely but you would never be able to adopt him/her. Because you were gay, you could parent a child but not be a legal guardian.

2. If you were gay, but eligible to pass a home study through a state licensed agency (i.e. clean criminal background, healthy, financially stable, and had a safe home), you could not adopt. But someone with a criminal history who wasn't gay would be able to adopt.

3. If you were gay, you could try to adopt outside of Florida. But trying to come back into Florida you would be stopped by officials overseeing interstate adoptions because of the gay adoption ban told them they had to block the placement.

4. If you were gay, you could move out of Florida, and uproot your entire life, and complete an adoption elsewhere. You could finalize your adoption, and then move back to Florida, with the understanding that someone could report you and live with the threat that your adoption could be overturned if charges were pursued.

Today is a good day. October 12th, 2010, the gay adoption ban was officially lifted with the announcement from Florida DCF (Dept of Children and Family Services) that they would not appeal the judge's ruling to overturn the ban. Today I got to speak with many, many couples in Florida and tell them they could adopt. That they could have access to one of the most basic desires - to create a family. That they no longer would be subject to the homophobic 33 year long law that kept them from achieving their dream of parenting children.

This is not to say that the state of Florida is Utopian by any means now. I made calls to agencies to see who would provide my clients home studies, and there are still many who have religious affiliations that will not be changing their policies. There will still rampant homophobia, and an outcry from social conservatives, despite all the facts pointing them in the face that GAY PARENTS ARE GOOD PARENTS.

LOVE MAKES A FAMILY.

Some people are crying over the videos on the Chilean miners rescue mission. Don't get me wrong, that's an amazing testament to survival instinct... But I've been crying tears of happiness because of all the wonderful people I spoke with today, and hearing that their faith told them to hang on just a little while longer. To listen to them thank ME for staying with them and guiding them at every step...I've been truly touched.

So tonight I tip my glass to the new people from Florida that will be in my professional life, and also to my LGBT friends and family. I love you, and I support you with every fiber of my being and I think it's amazing how each of you perservere every day just in being yourselves.


IT DOES GET BETTER. :)

Everyday is opposite day

I've always seemed to have opposite reactions, behaviors, etc as compared to my peers (or more specifically, my gender group), and while it's weaved its way in and out of my life, it's never been a bother to me. I played on a boys baseball team in 2nd grade when all the girls were trading stickers, was endlessly clutzy despite taking extra care to be aware of my surroundings, refused to play by the rules when it came to dating, gained weight when trying to diet. It was always something different, but I figured it made me quirky and likable.

This weekend, however, shed some light on one other difference I have...one that I already knew about but just realized is upsetting me. Women, food, weight, size, shape. Today's standards say that women need to be thin, Hollywood displays their photos and interviews of actresses and models proudly maintaining a tiny waist and only indulging in "guilty pleasure" foods once every blue moon. I have always had a healthy appetite, never paid any mind to how I looked compared to other girls, and felt that more emphasis should be made on HEALTH and not what was trending at the moment (Atkins, anyone?).

I'm healthy in my food habits, physical activity, I don't smoke and only drink in (mild) moderation. I don't eat fast foods. But my body shape is curvier than most, and I'm OK with that. I love eating, and cooking, and food is like art for me. However, in the extreme heat of the summer, work stress, and general life adjustments has caused a notable loss of appetite for me. I only reluctantly cook dinner (it helps when you have someone to cook for), breakfast tastes like cardboard, and lunch is the only time I can muster up any interest in eating. This has been going on for about 3 months...and as such my pants no longer fit. I have to hitch them up walking up stairs, for fear that my polka dotted undies will be on display by the time I reach the top. I am disheartened by this. See? Opposite! I am saddened not because a few inches have disappeared and my toosh is no longer holding my pants up...but because food is not a joyful experience anymore.

My trip to the mountains of Tennessee this past weekend gave me a brief reprieve from my lack of caloric-intake though...the high elevation or the mountain air simply made me ravenous. It was such pleasure to feel happy about eating again. I felt actual hunger pains and physically craved full meals. I suppose it's not abnormal to have a desire to eat, but for the modern woman it likely would be outside the norm. How sad! How unfortunate that there are women (and men, too) who wish they had no appetite so they could lose weight. This past weekend was fabulous for me, and I was disappointed that I only gained 2 pounds back (out of the 28 that I have lost since June). This means I have to bite the bullet and buy new pants now, since I've been putting it off and just looking silly with my baggy pants.

Now that I'm back in Hotlanta, the appetite is mysteriously gone again. I found myself depressed at dinner tonight, and Josh asked me if anything was wrong. My mournful reply? "I wish we were back in the mountains so I would want to eat again!" I have two wishes. 1 - that the heat wave goes away and my appetite comes back and 2 - that more women would challenge themselves to simply be healthy and happy and not have the lense focused on whether they fit the standard model for beauty....to take ownership of their curves, soft bellies, stretch marks, and larger pant sizes.