Home

I can't imagine owning a house. I always thought this was because my mom never owned a house, or because I've never had any substantial amount of money. But I just stumbled upon this picture and realized that maybe it's something else: I don't have any idea where my "dream" house would be located. I looked at that picture and immediately thought, "Wow, how great would it be to wake up to that every morning?" But then again, I realize that waking up to that every morning would mean sacrificing the conveniences of city living, such as having everything within walking distance. And there are a ton of other things I love about living in a city: the culture, the events, the opportunities for career and education, the ease of transportation. But I dislike the homeless problem, and the crime, and the noise when I'm trying to sleep. How great would it be to live on a big plot of land and not have to share a wall with someone who listens to techno music?! And going even further: I wonder what it would be like to live in another country. I always thought I'd do that at some point. But as the years go by (and yes, I realize I am only 23), it seems like that won't happen. I'm on this track that is somewhat constricting. I mean, I'm investing all of this money to educate myself and set myself up for a job, but I have to get a job right after school so I can pay all that money back. This doesn't leave much time for trying out living in the country, and in Italy, and in a skyrise apartment in New York City. I have to make the choice, and chances are when I make it, it'll be pretty permanent. True, I don't know where my career and life will take me, but once I start establishing a reputation for myself as an attorney in a certain area, it'll be harder to just pick up and move. And the other issue I think about sometimes is, do I really want to live in a city when I have kids? I know it's a long way off, but it's an inner debate. Part of me thinks that kids would benefit from living in a city for the reasons listed above: culture, events, etc. But then again I think kids benefit way more from open spaces to play and explore in. I guess that's a bridge I'll cross when I get to it. In any case, looking at that picture makes me kind of sad because I realize that I can't have it all. My dream home would probably be something like this: a house on lots of land with a pool as well as a body of water nearby (preferably a lake)...but with neighbors close enough so it doesn't feel so remote...and then of course you only have to walk 2 blocks to get to a major city...did I mention that the city is Rome? Yeah, right.

Who You Know

Lately the thought of staying in at night, researching firms and drinking chamomile tea, sounds way more appealing than going out. I am going to savor this urge because it means that I've (so far) compiled a list of 30 job/networking opportunities, complete with background information about each individual person I want to contact. I'm going to start making phone calls next week, so I predict a rather large phone bill this month. Whatever...the end result (e.g., a job...please?!) will even it out in the end.

Choice

Sometimes I forget how lucky I am to live in 2010. Not only do I have DVD rental through the mail, vaccines, and the Internet, but there are certain rights that I was born with and didn't even have to fight for. Seeing the way that gay rights are evolving has made me more aware of the often long and tedious process of acquiring "fundamental" rights. I guess what really got me thinking about this was reading "Roe v. Wade" and re-watching the documentary "Jesus Camp."

It's hard to believe that there was ever a time when I would not have had the right to choose whether to have a baby. I recognize that, setting aside rape, unwanted pregnancies are fairly preventable with responsible birth-control methods, but still--accidents happen. Prior to 1973, when this all-too-frequent accident happened, most states left women with only two options: to either suck it up and go forth with the unwanted pregnancy, or to find a shady back-alley abortion "doctor" to perform the illegal procedure. I don't think I even need to go into detail about why the second option is detrimental to women (remember Penny from "Dirty Dancing"? Thank goodness Baby's father was a doctor!) As for the first option, well, all I can really do is picture myself in that position. The thought terrifies me. Pregnancy is an extremely big deal, both emotionally and physically, and unless you're prepared for it I can imagine it could be traumatizing. But that is just small potatoes compared to the life-changing consequences of actually having the child and caring for it. Even if you put the baby up for adoption, which I think is the admirable choice when you realize you can't give the baby what it needs and deserves, that doesn't change the fact that you became a mother. The emotional and physical undertaking of having a child and either putting it up for adoption or keeping it is just too serious, too permanent, too monumental of a choice to be left to anyone other than the woman.

Apart from the very personal aspects of forced motherhood noted above, there are various other factors, not the least of which is economics, that favor abortion rights. In a nation racked with debt and a bloated, yet crumbling welfare system why would we not encourage women to opt out of pregnancy when they recognize that they cannot adequately care for a child? Most of the women who cannot afford reliable birth control are the ones who need it the most--the women who already have 5 children they can't care for. And someone is going to sit there and say that she has to choose "life" for her unborn baby? What life? A life of poverty? A life where the mother's very little means now have to be divided by 6 instead of 5? Until we fix our debt and welfare system, and unless right wing conservatives plan on paying for these children themselves, it seems to me that people have no right to say that every conception should lead to a birth.

Speaking of "choosing life," my friend Joby said something brilliant earlier today that I'd like to share. She said, "I dislike the label 'pro-life' because it implies that pro-choice means pro-death, which commits a few different fallacies." This labeling is one of the oldest tricks in the extremist handbook though. Another trick? Visual aids. I used to get so sick when the "pro-life" activists would show up on my college campus with huge, blown-up pictures of aborted fetuses. REALLY?! You think that's going to stop me or my classmates from supporting abortion rights? First of all, I'm pretty positive that an abortion procedure with a licensed physician does not resemble a gory horror film set. Second of all, waving those disgusting signs in my face merely pushes me away from your cause and further convinces me that you are an irrational asshole. Maybe try researching some relevant facts and creating signs that a) don't make me want to vomit and b) use logical reasoning and not bible quotes. This visual aid trick was used in "Jesus Camp," as well, a documentary about a subject that I take issue with on so many, many different levels. We'll stick with abortion for now. So this man comes in to do a sermon to children about abortion (children who probably don't even know how a baby is created, let alone the various circumstances in which a baby can be unintentionally created) and he uses these little baby figurines to show what size a baby is during certain times in a pregnancy. Anyone who has seen an ultrasound knows that up until about 10 weeks gestation, a fetus looks more like a lump of play-doh than a cute, cuddly baby. And yet this man is holding up what he says is a 7 week fetus, but what looks more like a full term, anatomically correct infant that has been shrunk down. This is obviously a tactic to play on the emotions of the children--they associate this tiny figurine with an infant in their own life, maybe a sibling or a cousin or a neighbor. It makes it easier for the pastor to drive his point home when he says "1/3 of your friends wish they could be here tonight, but they can't, because they were aborted." I wish I was making that up.

I started on a positive note and got a bit negative, I know. But if there's one thing I can't stand more than anything in the world, it's people blindly advocating a belief system without logical and rational reasoning to back it up. Wait, there is something I can't stand more--it's people who blindly advocate a belief system and then force their children to blindly advocate that belief system as well. They're raising a generation of kids who are not taught to think for themselves. That's so dangerous. And it's most likely why it's been such a long and tedious process to secure certain fundamental rights such as the right for women to choose what to do with our body and future. I can only hope that once-golden boys such as Ted Haggard continue to slip up and chip away at the closed-minded and rigid exterior of the extremely conservative part of our nation until they are forced to recognize what their hypocrisy, judgment, and "morals" are actually doing to other people. I may not be "pro-life," but I'm certainly not "pro-death," I just understand the enormity of pregnancy and motherhood. Until people can come up with better arguments than "A baby is a gift from God" then I just can't take them seriously.

Long Day

I've been having a lot of negative thoughts lately. And it's one of those situations (every situation?) where I can't take my own advice. If this were happening to a friend, I'd tell them to put it into perspective--look to all the good in your life. It's just not working for me right now. Everything feels overwhelming and impossible, which is an especially terrible feeling in law school because I have to be at the top of my game all the time. There is very little room for breaking down...or just taking a break. The only thing I can think of to get through this without it affecting my school work is to avoid thinking about my stresses. It's tricky. It requires a bit of maneuvering. I can feel a bad thought around every corner lately, so I have to be one step ahead--prepared with the next distraction. I've literally been filling the last few days with as many activities as possible (mostly school work, of course), to make sure that I don't have a free moment to think too much. This doesn't sound very healthy, I know. But until I figure out how to remedy the anxiety, it seems to be the only solution that doesn't involve me locking myself in the apartment for the rest of the week and watching the 9 episode of "Unsolved Mysteries" I have taped on my DVR.

That is the most negative I can write without feeling guilty. I'll be back when I have something nice to say.

It All Works Out

I received a request* to write a post about advice I would give my 13-year-old self. I thought it would be easy, and I was very wrong. See, there are tons of things I could say to my 13-year-old self--tons of things I could "warn" my past self about in order to avoid the pain, the embarrassment, the work. But would I really want to do that? Isn't the point of experiencing difficult things to learn from them? So my "advice list" became more of a "reassurance list". We rarely take the advice someone gives us anyway. Most of the time we just want the reassurance to know that what we are doing is right. Once I shifted my focus to write my list in this way, a ridiculous amount of words flowed out. Some words are so intimate that I can't even write them here. It sounds weird, but I started to have a conversation with my 13-year-old self...really just letting her know it would all work out. The words "calm down" were used a lot. Anyone who knew me then knows that I was (am) a bit of a worrier. So here are the few bits that are fit for public eyes...

1. You will have more than one shot at love. Contrary to most movies, TV shows, and books, you don't end up with the first person you date. It's actually pretty rare to stumble upon someone who is "perfect" for you on the first run out of the gate. I'm not saying you should lower your expectations, and I'm definitely not saying you shouldn't give each relationship your all. In fact, I am urging you to do quite the opposite. Let me explain. Remember when you went on that blind date with Joey and he seemed so amazing? And remember how he called you every day after school? And remember how you spent an hour in the card aisle at Rite-Aid finding the perfect card for Valentine's Day? And remember how you had butterflies in your stomach as you and him counted down in unison and then had your first kiss? And remember how you found out he was also kissing another girl at school? That's not how you thought it was supposed to go, right? You found a cool guy, you got along great, you gave it your all, and then it fell apart. But a week later, you felt completely fine...so fine, in fact, that you felt guilty. Don't. You're doing it right, I promise. Don't for a second feel like you have to go back to Joey. He's a jerk. And I'm sorry to break this to you, but there will be other jerks. There will be sweethearts too. You'll go on lots of first dates. You'll have lots of first kisses (you know how much you love the Mill, with the roof missing? You'll have one there). You'll have lots of "our song"s. You'll sneak out. You'll argue until you cry. You'll make up and promise to never fight again. You'll fight again. You'll stay up until 3 am talking about everything and nothing. You'll get giddy just thinking about him. You'll avoid his calls. You'll argue with your mom about him (go easy on her...she's right about more things than you think). You'll share things with him you never thought you'd share with anyone. You'll be jealous of his ex for no rational reason. You'll love him, and sometimes he won't love you back. He'll love you, and sometimes you won't love him back. And finally, you'll break up...there will be a lot of breakups. All the giddiness, excitement, butterflies, and love that come in between the breakups make the breakups themselves worth while. Enjoy this as much as you can and don't put too much pressure on yourself to find "the one." Keep doing what you're doing--keep yourself open to the experience, but when it doesn't work out, let it go. I have 4 journals worth of venting and rejoicing to back me up in saying that it will all work out for you.
2. Drama is highly overrated. I know everyone around you is gossiping and telling secrets and just conducting themselves with a general air of soap opera drama, but trust me, you are better off not involving yourself. Remember when Chelsea started dating Jason (suspiciously) soon after you and him broke up? She apologized (via a letter from him) and you gave her a second chance. However, she spent the whole time talking about how amazing her boyfriend Jason is. When you got up and walked away from her mid-sentence at the lunch table, you made the right choice. When you avoided her next 14 phone calls, you made the right choice. You recognized that she was bad for you, that she was making you feel sad and mad, and you remedied the situation. She tried to make you feel guilty by talking behind your back about how the two of you were supposed to be best friends forever. Don't fall for it. What you did was healthy and right. The less time you spend trying to make the Chelseas of the world happy, the more time you will have to find friends who won't hurt you and fill your life with drama. You are fully entitled to a life surrounded by good people. 
3. Slow down. So, you've got classes, four extracurricular activities, and two regular babysitting jobs. Not to mention you take on so much responsibility at home, what with taking care of Jake, mediating Kari and Ryan's semi-constant fights, and just generally trying to make your mom's life as easy as possible. You are 13, Shawn. You are a kid. There will come a day when you have no choice but to be hard-working, responsible, and mature, because it's part of your job. But for now, I beg of you, just enjoy the sheer simplicity of your life! I know it feels like you already have so much to do--so much expected of you! But think about it, if you missed class today, bailed on your after-school stuff, called in sick to your babysitting job, and just locked yourself in your room to watch cartoons, what's the worst that would happen? You'd disappoint a few people, yes, but life would go on. That's because you are a kid. These are the years when you are supposed to be using your time to play, explore, and relax. You don't need to be using your time to act like an adult. That will come soon enough. I know you're embarrassed to admit to anyone that you still play with Barbies. You sneak over to the Camerons some afternoons to play with Taylor and her incredible collection. Your best friend Kayla has already let her boyfriend touch her boobs, and here you are still playing with dolls. It's okay...there is no rush. Play Barbies with Taylor for 3 hours. Then jump on the trampoline until you can barely breathe. And then listen to Britney Spears in the tree house. This is not only normal, but it's fun, isn't it? I don't want to give away the ending, but if Kayla had been playing with dolls and not letting boys play with her boobs, she might be in a better place right now. 

*Mig, sorry I didn't write this sooner. I have a difficult time sitting down and thinking/writing about something other than law for more than 20 minutes. Hopefully this helps for the next time you see Cassidy.

A Lot Can Change

I just found this picture on my old Myspace blog. Yes, I still have a Myspace. It is less a sign of failing to keep-up-with-the-times and more a testament to how sentimental I am. Anyway, this picture! It seems like just some trees and sun glare, right? When I took this photo, I was 18 years old, visiting San Francisco for maybe the third time ever. My friend Joel and I had some time to kill before the Halloween celebration in the Castro, so we randomly chose a BART stop to get off at. I thought this area was beautiful, so we sat down. Next month, it will be 4 years exactly since that day. Little did I know I'd be living 3 minutes from there. I'd be shopping at a Farmer's Market across the street. I'd be doing yoga in this very spot. I'd be running through here drunkenly after a happy hour. I'd be seeing Backstreet Boys perform in front of City Hall (speaking of that, I had no idea that was City Hall at the time I took this picture!) I really never imagined I'd live somewhere this incredible. Sure, it's cold most of the time, my neighborhood usually smells like urine, and I often wonder if those people on the sidewalk are dead or just sleeping...but still, it's wonderful! There's culture and good food and awesome bars and easy transportation and beautiful parks and courthouses and museums and the bay and music and a long-standing tradition of open-mindedness, love, and creativity. I feel so lucky that I'm able to call it my city. And I hope I can for a very, very long time. 

Adoption

It's kind of weird to think that my little sister's birth mom and adopted mom are friends on Facebook. You used to have to go through loads of paperwork and investigation to find your birth mother...now, all Cassie has to do is look through her mom's friends list for someone who looks like her.

My Journal

I have a journal. Or a diary, if that's what you prefer to call it. I love reading old entries and laughing at myself, realizing that I was worried over nothing. It's also just nice to have a reminder about how I felt about something important, right when it happened. What I hate to admit, however, is that 90% of my journal entries have been about a guy. I actually went through the other day and counted how many entries I had written that didn't mention a guy once. I don't even want to say the number; it's embarrassing. This makes me feel like a pathetic, boy-crazy 13-year-old. If someone is actually interested in reading my journal after I'm dead, they are going to think I spent all my time chasing boys and recovering from break-ups. They will think that I had nothing to say about world issues or human rights or spirituality or anything else important-sounding. I don't think this is the case in my everyday life though. Consciously, I'm pretty sure I don't worry all that much about relationships (at least not anymore)...it's just that when I sit down to write my thoughts, that's all that comes to mind. I know it seems silly that I should even care what others might think of what I'm writing in my journal; after all, it's for me, and not for someone else. I guess I just wish I had something more deep and meaningful to write than "Why hasn't he called me back?!"

So, I was really excited when I came to this passage in the book I'm reading: "And then I remember a story my friend Deborah the psychologist told me once. Back in the 1980s, she was asked by the city of Philadelphia if she could volunteer to offer psychological counseling to a group of Cambodian refugees...These Cambodians had suffered the worst of what humans can inflict on each other--genocide, rape, torture, starvation, the murder of their relatives before their eyes, then long years in refugee camps and dangerous boat trips to the West where people die and corpses were fed to sharks--what could Deborah offer these people in terms of help? How could she possibly relate to their suffering? 'But don't you know,' Deborah reported to me, 'what all these people wanted to talk about, once they could see a counselor?' It was all: I met this guy when I was living in the refugee camp, and we fell in love. I thought he really loved me, but when we were separated on different boats, he took up with my cousin. Now he's married to her, but he says he really loves me, and he keeps calling me, and I know I should tell him to go away, but I still love him and I can't stop thinking about him. And I don't know what to do...This is what we are all like. Collectively, as a species, this is our emotional landscape. I met an old lady once, almost one hundred years old, and she told me, 'There are only two questions that human beings have ever fought over, all through history. How much do you love me? And Who's in charge?' Everything else is somehow manageable. But these two questions of love and control undo us all..."

I guess it's not just me then.

Uttanasana

This evening my yoga instructor asked us to dedicate our exercise to a positive thought for someone. It may be a bit selfish, but I chose myself. I haven't done yoga in such a long time, so I felt like I needed to push my positive energy towards reestablishing my focus.

My yoga instructor is a really beautiful, sweet woman whose name I always forget because I can't pronounce it. She tells us that the lessons we learn in yoga can be transferred to our everyday life, and I definitely believe this. There was a time in my life when I was really disciplined in yoga; I did it twice a day. I slept better, I woke up feeling more refreshed, I had better posture, and I felt more able to focus. Yoga forces you to just be with yourself--your thoughts and your body. It's more difficult than it sounds for someone whose mind is often going a mile a minute. This is exactly why yoga is so good for someone with my personality--I tend to multi-task TOO much. It's one thing to multi-task in order to get through an especially busy law school day, it's quite another to multi-task when I genuinely have nothing to do (it's rare, but it happens). Just to illustrate this point, as I'm typing this blog I am also watching TV, drinking wine, texting a friend, and getting up intermittently to straighten my hair. I don't know why I insist on living like this, when I could just straighten my hair, THEN write this blog, THEN watch the episode while drinking my wine, that way I'd be giving separate attention to each (as far as the texting goes, let's be honest, I'm doing it all day everyday anyway). Yoga is just as much about meditation as it is about exercise, so, in the past, it has helped me become more disciplined in my focus. Some poses, such as Balasana or Savasana require you to literally just stay still and think. This was weird to me at first; I remember looking around the room wondering how everyone could just be for that long. No music, no TV, no texting. The more I did it though, the more I enjoyed it. It's an hour, twice a week now, where I am forced to shut everything off. And man, do I need it. From the time I wake up in the morning until the time I go to sleep, I am going, going, going, even if the "going" merely refers to thoughts in my head.

I have Joby to thank for introducing me to the loveliness of yoga. I know for a fact that she watches movies while doing her yoga, but she's got a kid so it's different. Multi-tasking is on a whole different level when you're a mom. You take the time you can get.

Jerk

My mom loves to tell this story: When I was 3 years old, she and I took a nap together (anyone who knows my mother also is familiar with her love of naps. It's genetic). Immediately before said nap, I had apparently overheard my mother talking to her friend about how badly she needed a haircut but that she could not afford it. Well, I woke up earlier than her...and played hairdresser. 5 inches seemed about right.

Now, when my mom tells this story, she tells it with a loving tone. "She was just trying to help her mama out!" But to me, it's just an example of a kid being a jerk. And let's be honest here, that's probably exactly what my mom thought immediately upon waking up and looking in the mirror. She's had almost 20 years to get over the initial anger.

I love that she tells this story though. It reminds me that kids are not in my near future...and when they are, I most certainly will not be discussing my beauty needs in front of them.

Over-Analysis

Sometimes I worry that the only reason I want the things I want in life is because I feel like those are the things I should want.

Confusing? I agree.

I guess I just have a fear that I'll be 72 someday and realize I didn't do anything genuine or unique or truly of my own freewill.

In any case, I should be sleeping and not ruminating over my laptop in the dark. Sleeping may not be unique, but man do I love doing it.

Rome

Debt scares the hell out of me. You'd think that by this point in my life I'd be used to it, what with massive amounts of student loans. Nope. Every time I use my credit card, even if it's for something completely necessary or a total bargain, I get a panicky feeling. I'd like to think I'm good with money for the most part. I mean, I don't shop frivolously or make big purchases (although my food-and-alcohol addiction leaves much to be desired). But for all of my frugality and coupon-shopping I still can't help the fact that I have loans and credit card debt. Some of you out there may respond with "Yes, you can help it!" I assure you though, I cannot. If it weren't for student loans I would not be where I am right now in my education. Sure, I would have loved to have saved money before school, or to have been able to supplement my loans with some sort of outside income, but it just wasn't in the cards. My pre-college jobs at California Pizza Kitchen, a law office, and Reprise did little more than pad my resume, and my during-college jobs at various locations really only helped satisfy my before-mentioned food-and-alcohol addiction. I know I shouldn't stress about the student loans--after all, they've allowed me to get an education and live a far more interesting life than I could have otherwise--however, the thought of paying them back terrifies me. I don't want to be a slave to my loan payments. I want to be able to buy a house, have nice things, live comfortably, travel everywhere. I'm getting off track though, as what I really wanted to talk about was that last goal--traveling.

I have a somewhat embarrassing confession. I'm reading "Eat, Pray, Love." I say embarrassing because I feel like I've hopped on some bandwagon, what with the craze around the movie ever-escalating. Alas, my friend Joby suggested it to me, and being that she has never failed to suggest things I love, be it movies or books or purses, I thought it wise to give it a shot. There's this paragraph where the author talks about travel in a way that made me literally say out loud, "That's how I feel!" She says, "...traveling is the great true love of my life. I have always felt, ever since I was sixteen years old and first went to Russia with my saved-up babysitting money, that to travel is worth any cost or sacrifice. I am loyal and constant in my love for travel, as I have not always been loyal and constant in my other loves." And how fitting that this description is set in Rome, the very place that solidified my travel obsession! I know, I know, "obsession" may require actually doing the activity, but for now, in the midst of law school, all I can do it daydream and plan. Anyway, I love the part about cost and sacrifice. In a small period of time, from November of 2007 until January of 2008, I went to New York City, Germany, and Italy for the first time. It was so memorable, so fun, so exciting! I don't regret that I am still paying those trips off because they were just so, so worth it. For all my money stress and anxiety, I would not give those travels up. Hopefully someday I will be able to pick back up on it, and hopefully by then I'll be able to do it on my own savings and not credit.

I just have to try to remind myself that the debts I've incurred so far in life aren't anything to be ashamed of. It's not like I'm out buying designer purses...I'm educating myself, both in the traditional sense and the cultural sense. Now if only I could balance it out with a little more travel and a little less law...someday, maybe.

On Being Alone

"Lonely is a freedom that breathes easy and weightless and lonely is healing if you make it."

There are two sides of me that are sometimes difficult to reconcile. One day I can be the most extroverted person ever, but the next I'll want nothing to do with people at all--in fact, the mere thought of needing to make conversation will seem exhausting. Being alone started out as something I was merely comfortable with and has slowly morphed into a requirement in my life. I need some time to just sit in my apartment and read, or cook, or sleep, or dance, or write, or watch mindless TV. Alone. There is something to be said about doing these activities with someone else, but most of the time I really savor being with myself. I used to think this made me weird in some way, but I'm coming to think of it as an asset. I know plenty of people who can't do a damn thing on their own. I'm sure you know of such a person. They're always texting you to go to the grocery store or the park or the gym with them. Again, there is something to be said about having companionship, but independence is good too. I remember the first time I went to a movie by myself. It felt odd at first, especially when people kept asking if the seat next to me was taken. But after the second time around, I pretty much realized I prefer that activity alone. I mean, why not? I get to choose the movie, choose the time, choose the theatre, and I don't have to wait around for someone else's taste, mood, and schedule to sync with mine. This all came about after a friend and I promised to see a movie together, but she kept flaking everytime we made plans. The movie was about to leave the theatre for good when I finally had the epiphany that I should just go see it myself.

Besides "outside" activities though, I also just love hanging out at my apartment. Living alone was the best decision I made. First of all, there are two things about me that make it difficult to have roommates: I'm very organized and I'm a light sleeper. So I've molded my apartment into a sort of comfort haven for myself (that's what our home is supposed to be anyway, right?) When I think of my apartment I think of good food and a comfortable bed. I love entertaining and sharing this with people, but I sometimes find myself (during the social event) looking forward to when they leave and I can have my space back. Ha! Maybe it's just the stressful time in my life and the fact that I am clinging to familiar comforts. In any case, as I sit here on my couch, still in my pajamas, with my laptop and my tea and the sun (thankfully!), I feel nothing but contentment. I like the fact that I can be happy like this...really, really happy. And if someone calls me right now to invite me out, then great. But, if they don't, I'll be fine with that too. Besides, I'm getting behind on my "Thriller" dance practice.

Please watch this if you haven't before: "How To Be Alone" 

Lessons

I always tell people "Don't regret any relationship; think of them as lessons." As with most advice I hand out, it's hard to actually take it myself. For the most part though, I think I've been able to recognize the issues (mine or his) from past relationships. There is one relationship in particular though--an especially bad one--that makes me cringe everytime I think about it. It's been years since we've been broken up, and I don't ever see the guy, but I can't help feeling ridiculous when I think about how long I stuck around. That's the main reason for this post. I'm trying to overcome that feeling, and remind myself that it was an experience...one worth remembering, if for nothing else than to avoid a similar situation in the future.

Everyone has dealbreakers. However, we often forget that we weren't born with these dealbreakers ingrained in us. Sure, some of them are carried over from childhood, like the desire to marry someone with a shared love of Pogs (I'm looking forward to gaining ownership to half of my future husband's slammer collection), but most of these dealbreakers come about from failed relationships. Immediately following a breakup, most people go through that stage where they only think about the good things that they are now missing out on. This is why there is a terrible recidivism rate in bad relationships. Of course you are going to feel like you made a mistake--a breakup is a highly emotional time and you're just adjusting to being alone! It's important to recognize that there was probably a very valid reason for the breakup, so you should at least give it a chance to really stick. Some of the best advice my mom ever gave me was to "give it two weeks." Of course, for some people, it takes less time or more time, but for the most part I've found that two weeks is the perfect amount of time for someone to really feel good about their decision. You're far enough away from the breakup that emotions aren't clouding your judgment (at least not as much) but you're not so far away that you can't remember the reasons for the split. Also, two weeks is enough time to fall into a new routine, one that doesn't involve that other person. Here's a little secret about what I do at the two week mark (so far just in my last two relationships): write out some pros and cons. This might sound callous, as if I'm treating the relationship more like a business venture than a love connection. Maybe it is callous, but it works for me. It shows me what I learned from the relationship, what I really loved about it, what I really hated about it, what I absolutely cannot put up with in the next one. After making these lists, I actually come out with a more positive and realistic view of the relationship. This is probably because I am able to see it for what it was...I don't put it on a pedestal and forget the bad things, but I also don't let myself forget that there were reasons I was with that person at all. These things, bad or good, become dealbreakers.

So, without further delay, here are some of mine:

• I cannot be with an alcoholic.
• I must be with someone who loves food and cooking.
• I cannot be with someone who is constantly down on themselves.
• I must be with someone who is ambitious.
• I cannot be with someone I am not sexually compatible with (seems obvious, but this one took me awhile...I'll save that for another entry). 
• I must be with someone who is romantic (doesn't need to be grand-gesture-romantic...just remembering-the-little-things-romantic).
• I cannot be with someone passive.
• I must be with someone funny.
• I cannot be with someone who hates cats.
• I must be with someone who wants to travel.
• I cannot be with a vegetarian.
• I must be with someone who loves my mama. 
• I cannot be with someone who holds me back.
• I must be with someone who is close to their family.
• I cannot be with someone (highly) disorganized.
• I must be with someone who can articulate their emotions.
• I cannot be with a jealous or overly needy person.
• I must be happy and in love 99% of the time.

Blind Comfort

My road to Atheism was a long one. And honestly, I don't feel right saying "was" because I still have questions and confusion. What I do know is that I loathe the hypocrisy and blind faith that is involved in mostly every organized religion I've come across. There is this Post Secret that came out a few weeks ago that said "Not believing in God has allowed me to love people even more." I love this. I feel that when we put our faith in reason, rationality, and the goodness of ourselves, we tend to be more self-sufficient and purely happy. First I'll give an example of the "self-sufficient" part and then an example of the "purely happy" part.

I grew up in a predominately Christian (or Mormon!) town, therefore most of my high school classmates were, and still are, religious. I'm friends with quite a few of them on Facebook and it is not uncommon to see a status update such as this: "Please pray for me. Math test at 2!" Ugh. And then, when the math test results come in: "Thank you, God! I got an A!" I don't want to be a firestarter, so I haven't said anything...but it really bugs me that people project their accomplishments onto a higher being. Regardless of whether there is a God or not, you got that A because you studied, not because you prayed. I wish these friends would realize that it is their own intelligence and hard work that helped them achieve something, and then maybe it would be the first step to realizing that they don't need to depend on someone or something else to make them a "better" person. Another (albeit more terrifying) example of this detriment to self-sufficiency is that pilot who paused to pray instead of taking emergency measures before crash-landing his plane. 16 people were killed because of this. (See here) Let's stop to think about this for a moment. A trained and licensed pilot put 16 lives at risk instead of resorting to the emergency measures that he was instructed on. All because, presumably, he thought that God was more capable of handling the situation. This is terrifying to me. You know what else terrifies me? Songs like "Jesus, take the wheel." No, please, you take the wheel, because I am probably in another car on that highway and don't really feel like getting into an accident. My theory is that if people put a little more faith in themselves and their capabilities, they would realize that they don't need to be praying to a higher power for extra strength, intelligence, patience, etc. Regardless of prayer, you're the one who ends up doing the work in the end, right? You took that math test, not Jesus.

Okay, onto the "purely happy" part. Have you ever been in a relationship where you're only happy when that other person is around? Or when they are calling you? Or when they are complimenting you or reinforcing you? It's all beautiful when things are going your way, but when they leave you suddenly feel helpless in creating your own happiness. This is obviously unhealthy. We should all be able to make ourselves happy. After all, who knows you better than you? And that other person is not always going to be around to make you happy (not to mention that would be exhausting on their part, and a lot of pressure). It is my belief that a lot of religious people are in a "relationship" like this--with God. They believe that they won't be happy unless they can "talk" to God or "feel" God. They put so much emphasis on living a life for Him, that they seem to forget how to just be happy with themselves (this will link to a post on "Being Alone" I hope to write later this week). Furthermore, they cite God for every beauty or significance around them. This significance part moves me on to my real reason for this post...

In December of 2008, a very good friend of mine was stabbed and killed. It was, and will probably always be, the most traumatic and heartbreaking thing to ever happen to me. It really was senseless. His father is a pastor, so of course the services were very religious. Less than 24 hours after the death, a group of us had gathered at the pastor's church. I kept overhearing things like "This is all in God's plan," and it took every ounce of my will-power to not lash out at these people. "God's plan"?! What kind of a plan involves the brutal murder of a young man?! I think it is highly inappropriate, especially when someone is so freshly grieving, to say things like this. Am I supposed to nod and suddenly feel all better? Instead these types of "comforting words" only make me feel more angry and want to be more of an Atheist. Any God who has a plan like this doesn't sound like a God I want to look up to or strive to be like. I began the stages of grief, lingering far too long in the "denial" area. My religious friends got to the "acceptance" area very quickly, and I must admit this made me jealous. I knew it would be so much easier if I believed in heaven, because then I could comfort myself with ideas such as "he's in a better place," and "I'll see him soon." Laying in bed at night, during the weeks following his death, I was struck with a paralyzing anguish whenever I would think too hard about the permanence of his absence. I truly don't believe I will see him again, and that makes acceptance so much harder. In fact, I would venture to say I still haven't accepted his death nearly two years later. And in this sense, I am definitely envious of the blind comfort that religious people find in believing that there is an afterlife.

I don't mean for any of this to sound like I am clinging to the memory of his death in an unhealthy manner. I'm coming to terms with it in a different way, a way that takes more time and hurts more than just writing off his death as "God's plan." Sure, it would be easier that way, but I honestly believe that thoughts like that only put the bad feelings in a box and tuck it away in a closet in our brain. Pretty soon that closet could fill up and overflow, and you'll be overwhelmed with feelings that you never dealt with in the first place. Maybe I'll be angry over his murder for the rest of my life, but I don't really mind. The anger means I'm still feeling it, and in turn he feels closer. That's my own private way of keeping him.


Ed. Note: As not to offend anyone, I'd like to add that I know that not every religious person is like this. Some of my friends see their religion as a complement to their life, not a requirement. My meaning in this post was that when we put all of our faith into a higher being, we tend to forget our own capabilities and feelings.

Doing What Is Right...

I love this. So much. It puts into words the response I SO wish to give to people who use the "Bible Argument" in reference to homosexuality. If you're going to pick and choose which verses to follow, don't get mad when someone points out your inconsistencies.

Definitions

I have to admit, I get a secret thrill when someone asks me to describe myself. I think most people are intimidated by this request because they feel like talking about themselves in any sort of positive manner makes them conceited or boastful. But, honestly, I think it's incredibly important to be able to recognize the good parts in ourselves. Obviously we should admit and accept our flaws as well, but I think people spend way too much time dwelling on them. I always think of that scene in "Mean Girls" when the girls are pointing out their physical imperfections in the mirror. Sure, I could list off a ton of things I am unhappy with (I hate my feet, my hair takes too much work, I have ugly birthmarks) but I can also list off a ton of things I am happy with (see? Even right now I'm falling prey to the thought of not wanting to list my good qualities, in case I sound conceited. Silly me. I have pretty eyes!) We're getting off topic here though, as what I'm really talking about is non-physical attributes. I can tell you that I'm ambitious and hard-working and driven and loyal and loving and sincere. I can shout these things from the rooftop and I'm not embarrassed. These are GOOD things about me, I SHOULD boast about them. 


Here's where I've gotten a little confused about though...


I boast (or complain) about attributes that really have nothing to do with who I am as a person. Sometimes I hear myself saying "Oh yeah, I'm a total Topper girl," as if this means something. I guess what I'm doing is trying to make myself closer to that side of the family, but when I really think about it I have spent very little time with any of the Toppers so what have they given me except my looks? (We could get into a Nature vs. Nurture discussion here, but I am too hungover for such a thing at present). This ties in to my pet peeve of people saying things like "I have daddy issues, that's why I date all the wrong men." I will admit that I have uttered this statement myself before. Many, many times in fact. It's easy to excuse away our flaws by blaming a traumatic event from our childhood; it's much harder, and I think much more brave, to accept that the traumatic event occurred and then overcome it. Beat the odds, if you will. For example, they say that being sexually abused as a child leads to promiscuity or other sexual problems later in life (just listen to any airing of "Loveline" and you will quickly notice that the first thing Dr. Drew asks any female caller is "Were you sexually abused as a child?"). Sexual abuse, at any age, is horrible and probably the most traumatic thing a girl can go through, BUT I still think that if you are self-aware enough to recognize that something like that is causing you problems later in life, then you are self-aware enough to remedy the situation. I might be alone in this reasoning, and I don't mean to sound insensitive, but it really just seems like people use these sort of things as an excuse to continually mess up. My older brother never had a dad growing up, not even a strong male figure. Starting at age 13 he was in and out of correctional facilities. Up until his son was born in April of 2008, he would constantly use his "daddy issues" as an excuse for his violence, anger, and other various problems. I feel awful that he never had a dad around, and chances are that if he did he wouldn't have gotten in to quite as much trouble, but what really pisses me off is that he used this as a crutch his whole life. Instead of overcoming it and saying "Hey, look how I persevered!" he used it as a Get Out of Jail Free pass (ha! If only that were real in his case). I think having his son made him realize that he had to stop feeling sorry for himself and actually break the cycle of non-existent fathers. 


I had an absent father when I was growing up too, but I never let it define me. I think that is something I am most proud of. I could have been promiscuous, or dated guys who are flakey, or even just resented my father. I just feel like it is much healthier--for me and for everyone around me--to forgive. I'm not saying I'll forget, mind you. I know that I came from hardship, but instead of letting that hardship be a definition in my life, I want it to be a challenge I overcame. Maybe I was predisposed to be a certain way because I didn't have a dad growing up, or because I'm a Topper, or because I grew up in a conservative Christian town...but I am where I am now, and any bad qualities I have are mine to accept blame for. 


I'll end this with my favorite quote/lyric: "Life is how it is, not how it was." It might sound preachy, but we have the power to change ourselves, to be who we want to be. Stop complaining about what happened to you before, and look forward to how you're going to make it different from now on.