Mortified (Or, How to Deal With People Who Suck)

It was the day after my 12th birthday party. I was riding high from a successful slumber party and the consumption of a giant, Costco-sized tub of Laffy Taffy candy that someone had given me as a birthday present. Needless to say, I was feeling good.

My two older sisters had a marching band competition that day, so we took a family trip to the stadium to watch the proceedings. My parents were volunteering with the band, which left me in the stands to watch over my two younger sisters. I was twelve now. I could totally handle the responsibility.

We had a great time, my sisters and I. We cheered, we huddled together for warmth, we talked about how hilarious it would be to switch seats and watch how freaked out our parents would get when they came back to get us... Somehow, we made 6-straight hours of sitting on a metal bench fun.

After every few bands performed, the Powers That Be would give themselves (and, by extension, us) a break to...I don't know, do whatever marching band competition judges do when they aren't watching marching bands. Us schlubs in the stands would get up, shake it out, get something to eat. Whatever. I was twelve and had just spent all my babysitting money on cheap plastic earrings from Claire's, so, being penniless, my sisters and I generally stayed put and fidgeted during these breaks.

About halfway through the day, a longer break than usual was introduced. A couple people in the family sitting in front of us got up to do whatever people do when they aren't sitting on a cold metal bench. Seizing the opportunity to stretch out for a bit, I put my feet up on the now empty bench in front of me, not really giving it another thought.

Until the family come back.

The little girl and her father hadn't even walked all the way up to their bench yet when all of a sudden the woman sitting next to where my shoes were resting turned and poured her entire big-gulp-sized cup of ice cold Coke on my feet.

What. The. [Beeeeeep].

I was mortified. I jerked my feet away and tried to avoid my sisters' very confused, staring eyes, as they watched me to find out how exactly they should be reacting. But how was I supposed to know how to react?! I wasn't the grown-up in this situation. I was a child! An apparently rather sheltered child who had never encountered a grown-up who would pour cold soda on someone's feet for no reason. 

Her (I am assuming) husband gave her a strange look and and asked her why she just did that. She just shrugged and said, "Her feet were in [insert the name of their daughter]'s seat."

WHAT THE CRAP, WOMAN. Who does that?!

The father and daughter apparently agreed that this was an acceptable reaction to the situation, because, with not a word to me, they proceeded to take their [now Coke-covered] seats and resumed whatever it was they were doing before all this happened. I sat, face flaming, staring straight ahead, and somehow made it through the rest of the competition in one piece. With ice cold Coke soaked feet. In October.

I am thirty years old now, but the eighteen years that have passed have yet to fully erase the feelings I felt that day. Even now, as I type out what happened, so many feelings are bubbling up. Mortification. Anger. Confusion. Sorrow

Although, having grown up a bit and realized just how crazy that lady was, anger seems to be the presiding feeling today.

Are y'all asking yourselves why I would revisit this moment from my long-gone past? Well I have been thinking about it a lot lately because it was the first time I encountered what I considered to be a mean person (like I said. Sheltered child). Unfortunately for me, it was not the last time, but you know what? We can't avoid it. We can't avoid them. Sometimes people just suck and they pour Coke on kids' feet and they don't care. 

So today, I am sharing this story with you all to put it to bed. I am accepting the fact that I am going to encounter many of Coke lady's friends throughout my life and there 'aint nothin' I can do about it. Except move on. So this is me moving on.

But just so we are clear- heaven help anyone who tries to pour Coke on my or, just you dare, my child's feet. My new zen acceptance of sucky people can only stretch so far.

Random Acts of Kindness vs. Required Acts of Kindness: My Take on Pyramid Schemes, Chain Letters, and “Please Repost” Requests

I love helping people. In fact, my whole working life has been devoted to helping others. I’m a librarian. That’s what we do. Need help? Great! Just ask! Have a question? Shoot! Hands full? I’ll grab that door for you! A few pennies short? Let me dig at the bottom of my purse; I’m sure I have a few coins jingling around in there that you can use! Need a little chocolate to de-stress your day? Come to my desk where chocolate awaits you! (And I don’t even eat chocolate myself--It is literally there just for you!) Then there are the kinds of things people ask you to do things that are pointless.  In those instances I am less likely to get excited about “helping.”

You want to know where chain mail, pass-it-on exponential office giving, and in-home party perpetuation goes to die (especially during December)? It comes to me. And then it dies. A swift, swift death. Maybe at other times of the year I’d be more likely to keep it going, pass it along, but I’m mildly positive that December equals Cara’s limit. Random acts of kindness? Love them! Required acts of “kindness.” I’m not a fan.

Here are some examples:

Makeup/jewelry/food storage/baked goods/cleaning supplies in-home parties (with strong encouragement to purchase crap you don’t need, have never wanted, will never use--Oh, and do you want to host your own party and then become a beauty consultant/jewelry representative/food storage consultant/direct sales person? No.)

Why I take issue with this: you are using your friends to profit. You invite them over and then guilt them into purchasing unnecessary, overpriced things that really aren’t all that unique. And then you further guilt them into throwing their own parties to guilt their network of friends into buying (you guessed it…) even more unnecessary, overpriced things. The worst is when it isn’t even associated with a real event like a baby or bridal shower--For some reason, I can swallow that a little easier than just having a come-spend-money party. And then there are the invitations from people you may or may not have seen in years, who just recently added you as a Facebook friend.

Sample Facebook conversation:

• Person A: Hi, Person B! So good to see you here on Facebook! Glad to see you are doing well!
• Person B (after having not had any real interaction with Person A for at least 10 years): Hi! Nice to hear from you! Yeah, things are going well--Busy as ever, but a good kind of busy! Take care! 
• Person A: Thanks! Things are going well here for me too. Actually, I’ll be having a party soon--you should come! I’ll invite you to the Facebook event! I’d love to see you there! 
• Person B: (Reads message, gets event invitation and doesn’t respond because she sees that it is an invite for a product party. Pukes a little in her mouth.)
• Person B: (Forgets about “party” invite and gets message from a stranger, the “representative” working with Person A for the party.)
• Representative: Hi Person B! I’m Representative, and I’ll be helping showcase (some products) at Person A’s party. I saw that you haven’t RSVPd to the Facebook invite and I was wondering if you’ll be able to make it next weekend! Person A would love to see you there! 
• Person B: (What the… Ugh. Reluctantly responds as politely as possible to Representative’s message whilst swallowing true feelings.) Hi, Representative, Unfortunately I won’t be able to attend. Best, Person B

Now, I don’t mind going to hang out with friends--people I actually interact with. Most of them know I’m not going to buy anything anyway. They know that I’m trying to live more simply, that I don’t cook enough to own more than 3 pots/pans, that I have to wear gluten-free/hypoallergenic makeup, that I’m picky about my jewelry, and that I don’t buy into that kind of theme party thing anyway. But I’ll go because I do my best to support my friends’ efforts, just not financially.

Gifting pyramids/chain letters

I despise these. Nothing gets me in less of a giving spirit than being solicited. I came to work the other day and found a small bag and piece of paper on my desk! Aww, so sweet! Someone left me a surprise! I looked to see who it was from. It was a pyramid/chain letter gifting thing. I get a gift and then have to surprise two coworkers with a gift. I did not ask for this gift and really don’t have time to find two more gifts to share. I already have four December family birthdays in addition to Christmas (with five siblings, plus cousins, aunts/uncles, nieces/nephews, friends, and boyfriend/boyfriend’s family). I can’t even keep all of that straight, let alone figure out who to surprise at work and then what to put in the bag of goodies to give them.

Please repost so this will reach eleventy-billion likes and someone’s someone else will do something pointless

No. Just no. These are scams and a waste of everyone’s time. I refuse to waste my own time by reposting it, and others’ time by asking them to do the same. No, I honestly don’t think whoever posted that picture on Facebook will donate five million dollars to charity if it gets 10,000 “likes.” Yes, I appreciate my family and friends. No, they don’t need me to post a paragraph or give another “like” on a stranger’s photo on Facebook to prove it.

Do you want help? To talk? Hey, five bucks to cover parking? Need a ride because your car is in the shop? No problem. I’m your gal! Want some help raising awareness about a real issue (Facebook is not necessarily always the best avenue to educate, just saying, but sometimes I guess it works)? Fine, I’ll do my best.

Want me to buy crap no one needs? Ask someone else.*

Do these kinds of things make anyone else feel extra grinch-y, especially at this time of the year? Share your experiences in the comments! I’d love to hear them!



*There are plenty of people who actually do enjoy this type of gathering. I acknowledge that, and am not trying to invalidate their feelings (doing my best to take a cue from Oprah, love her!). To those people, I say ENJOY! It takes all kinds! 

Confessions of a Real Grump

 Sometimes you just have a bad day. It's true. There are days that start out fine and then something happens and I realize: Nope. This is not what I wanted to be doing today and not how I wanted to feel. (And, yes, I know I am in charge of how I react to things, blah, blah, blah… "Only you can make you feel a certain way" or whatever that quote is…) Sometimes, though, you just need to feel it. Feel grumpy. Feel sad. Feel hurt. Feel mad. Feel whatever it is that is tugging at the back of your thoughts. Because, and I swear I heard this on an Oprah episode (and look at Oprah--she’s definitely got her poop in a group!), if you're feeling a certain way then there's a reason. It is justified. If there wasn't a reason then you wouldn't be feeling however it is that you feel. (Heavily paraphrased, of course.)

So, yes. On the day that I’m writing this I feel tired; I feel stretched too thin; I feel un-heard and under-appreciated; I feel jaded; I feel downright grumpy!

Guess what? That’s okay. The good news is that this feeling doesn’t last forever. Usually a good talking-out session combined with a good sleep helps shed light on the situation and scare away the grumps and negativity. Even the most positive people need a crummy day of reality once in a while to help them remember the good days, right?

(And the even better news, I know that by the time this is posted I'll be coasting along in a grump-free zone after, hopefully, having gotten it out of my system for a while!)

How do you handle a not-so-great day?

Why it's Awesome to be a Nerd - Wil Wheaton

"Being a nerd...it's not about what you love. It's about how you love it... It doesn't matter what it is. The way you love that and the way that you find other people who love it the way you do is what makes being a nerd awesome... Now listen, this is really important, I want you to be honest, honorable, kind, I want you to work hard, because everything worth doing is hard, and I want you to be awesome."

A Pavlovian Philosophy of Sex

Our dear friend Krissie posted a truly lovely article on Facebook yesterday, and I want to share it with you. It's quite long, but it's definitely worth reading to the end. Occasional skimming is acceptable if you deem it necessary--the important thing is the message.

I've come to realize something profound that I don't know if I've ever heard anybody actually say.

It is not the impossibly air brushed females on magazine covers who are causing women to hold themselves against a standard of perfection. No, it's not that at all. Holy crap. Why am I just realizing this? Why doesn't anybody seem to realize this?

It is the men that stop and look at those magazines.

And that simple, repeated act is how we constantly, and never-endingly declare to women that they are not good enough, and will never be good enough.

We stop, and we look.

And women notice.

This post is written with a pleasant freshness and honesty that will probably make you want to give the writer a hug at various points throughout; and, like it promises in the introduction, it presents some compelling arguments that will maybe make you examine your own life a little bit.


There was one particular paragraph that resonated with me more than the rest (which is not to say that the rest did not resonate). Please, it says.

Please. Let's stop ogling the very things that are causing this tragic mind game. Let's stop walking by the never-ending porn that surrounds us with our jaws dangling so carelessly. Let's stop salivating every time Pavlov rings his freaking bell.

It is the last sentence of this paragraph that strikes me, and I believe it makes a vital point: That essentially, we as a society have learned that the most important thing in life is sex.


In our feelings about sex, just like Pavlov's dogs, we have allowed ourselves to be conditioned. Women let themselves believe that desirability is the ultimate indication of worth. Men let themselves be taught that they are nothing but sex machines. Our society says we need to be sexy, so we try to be sexy. Society says something will make us sexy, so we try that thing. We'll even try to learn to have more confidence--not so we can stop worrying about something stupid, but because we've heard that confident people are sexy. This thinking, I'm sad to say, is truly warped.


The fact is that sex is a biological function. Its purpose is the propagation of species; it is a necessary and practical part of existence on this planet. Why, then, have we commercialized it, set it on a pedestal, and become obsessed with it?


We stress endlessly about the way we look; we spend thousands of dollars on makeup and workout systems and gym memberships and Spanx and liposuction and plastic surgery and lingerie and hairstyles and clothes. We know perfectly well that none of it means anything, but we do it anyway. We know already that none of those things will make a person healthy, that they are purely about appearance. But we buy them anyway, because more than almost anything else, we want to be desirable. We "know" that looks don't matter; we "know" it's what's inside that counts. We tell ourselves that we know these things--but time after time, our actions say otherwise. 


This is why I'm glad to have read this article, and why I have posted it here for you all to read. It's time for us to stop conditioning ourselves, and let Pavlov go find something else to do. It's time for us to remember what's important, and--for once--to actually act on our knowledge. 


And finally, finally--it's time to start ignoring the bells.

Conflict Avoidance ≠ Peace

Most people don’t like conflict; this is pretty much a fact of life. However, it is also a fact of life that no one can avoid it forever. Unless you are a mountain man living alone in nature, it is inevitable that at some points in your life you will butt heads with other human beings.

For the most part, trying to avoid conflict is a good thing. No one needs more drama in their lives, and it definitely isn’t healthy to seek out arguments with people. If you’re able to let go of the little things that irritate you, the ones that don’t really mean anything, you’ll be able to make your life much more peaceful.

But there are times when conflict avoidance is not the ultimate high road—when it is, in fact, the wrong road. No matter how much we hate to be involved in disagreements, the hard truth is that sometimes it is necessary. Communication is an essential aspect of relationships, and no relationship can be healthy when one person isn’t willing to acknowledge tension. To be healthy, not just as one half of a relationship but as a person, you simply must be able to express your feelings.

Sometimes people let others walk all over them because they don’t want to start an argument. Sometimes someone does something that really hurts us, but we don’t want to have a fight about it, so we keep silent. Sometimes we bite our tongues because we’re afraid of what will happen if we bring up the issue. These behaviors are incredibly unhealthy, and they lead to other unhealthy behaviors like gossiping and passive-aggressiveness (because everyone needs an outlet). 

When a person’s ultimate relationship goal is to never have conflicts, they are effectively giving other people total control over them. If you put yourself in a situation where, no matter what the other person does, you will not say anything about it, you are allowing that person to decide what happens in your life. This is a misuse of our personal freedom, and essentially puts you in an abusive relationship. We unquestioningly condemn physically abusive relationships, but I think that sometimes an emotionally abusive relationship is worse for the simple reason that you may not even know you’re in one.

Conflicts cannot be resolved unless they are talked through. You may think that you can just ignore something and forget about it, but the fact is that you probably haven’t forgotten about it by just pushing it away. All you’ve done is give yourself time to stew; the same issue will come up again later, and again and again, and each time it will cause you more emotional pain. If you want to overcome the problem, you need to address it.

Don’t let yourself be a victim in your relationships. If it becomes necessary to have an argument with someone, don’t think you’re doing anyone a favor by keeping silent and avoiding it. If you want to have healthy relationships with others and be at peace with yourself, you must learn to deal with conflicts. It’s a ridiculously hard thing to do—believe me, I know—but unfortunately it’s just a part of life, and it’s something we all must learn.

If Women Like It, It Must Be Stupid

I've been trying to write this post since July 3, and the other day I came across an article that has really helped give some definition to what I'd been trying to say. That day--July 3--was my friend Lori's birthday, and the day that I saw Eclipse. This post is about what happened as I was leaving the movie.

The first thing you should know is that I love the Twilight books. I read them four years ago, when only the first two were out. I read them multiple times; I gushed about them with my roommates, who were also reading them; I went to Stephenie Meyer's website, downloaded the songs on the playlists she had to accompany the books, and listened to them constantly.

Then I saw the movies. On the one hand, I think they are pretty terrible as movies go. The dialogue is painful, Jasper walks around looking like he has something stuck up his bum, and Kristen Stewart is the Monotonous Expressionless Wonder. But on the other hand, all ridiculousness aside, watching the movies somehow feels like watching the books. I like that.

So Lori, Meredith, Bethany and I went to the movie. We watched; I wondered where Jasper and Carlisle got their new accents, tried not to laugh when Jacob said "I am hotter than you," and was impressed when Bella actually raised her voice for once. 

The whole time, and indeed whenever the Twilight franchise is mentioned, my inner snob wanted to point out that I'm not in this the way others are. I'm not obsessed, I would never wear a shirt with Edward or Jacob on it, I refuse to be on anyone's "team." But that day, as I was leaving the movie, I had a thought:


Why do I have to excuse myself about this? Why do I feel the need to qualify my love of these books with explanations about how I actually hate vampire stories in general, how I don't like the movies and won't buy the merchandise? What is wrong with liking Twilight?


The article I mentioned at the beginning of this post is called "Eat, Pray, Love: If women like it, it must be stupid." It's about how people write off that book because it's about a woman's journey to find herself, and because it's primarily women who love it. (This, might I point out, is because of a lovely phenomenon--discussed in this article about the same topic--in which women will read and watch things about men, but men will not do the reverse.) And reading this article, plus a blog post about it by my uncle, made me realize that this ridiculous attitude is exactly what I was exemplifying in my on-the-fence, love/hate relationship with Twilight.


Okay, so, it's true: Women do like a lot of stupid things. Guess what. So do men. (May I remind you of the existence of this.)


When a lot of men like something, people don't think it's ridiculous. Macho, yes. Violent, probably; involving scantily clad women, very likely. But when a lot of women like something, people assume it's worthless.


It turns out that everything doesn't have to be the ultimate in literary (or cinematic) quality for there to be something legitimately worth loving about it. No, Stephenie Meyer isn't going to be winning any Pulitzers. So what? Instead, she has created something that appeals to women all over the world, of totally different generations and backgrounds and circumstances. There is something special about that, and what I realized that day when I was leaving the theater is that I am glad to be a part of it.


It is a lot of fun to have this in common with my aunts, my nieces, my mother-in-law, my friends, the girl who works at the library who always talks to me about YA books, the women I go to church with, and the few men I know who were adult enough to try reading it and honest enough to admit they liked it. (Yes, my husband is one of these--he read it even before I met him.)


To my mind, this attitude is a matter of insecurity. Sometimes we don't want to like something because of the stigma associated with that thing. I consider myself a well-read person; I love meaningful, "important" books; I tend to turn up my nose at "summer beach reading," romances, and Oprah's book club.


But I don't need to be afraid that liking Twilight will make me less smart. I don't need to pretend that I don't like something because I'm afraid that it will give the wrong impression of what kind of person I am (see the lovely Melissa's post from the recent contest). And as a culture, we don't need to belittle the things that women like just because women like them.


It's not a secret that women are often under-appreciated, underestimated, and trivialized in the cultures of the world. But that trend is not one in which I want to participate. So from now on, I am out of the closet.


I am a smart girl who loves literature, learning, and the English language. I like to know about the world. I like to defy convention. I like to be myself in spite of what others think.


And I like Twilight. 

Lesson Learned, Whitney: Be Someone Else's Biggest Fan

Here's essay #8 by the lovely and brilliant Whitney Roberts Ehle.

As a teenager, I remember several older people at church who would ask me about all the details of my life: my favorite school subjects, crushes on boys, my life goals, etc. These mentors would also tell me that I could take my talents and interests and use them to reach my goals. Their confidence made feel confident that I would be a Broadway singer, a heart surgeon, a famous novelist. I invited my mentors to my high school plays, and they came. After I sang a solo in church, they always made sure to tell me how well I had sung. They encouraged me in my desire to live a Christ-like life by praising me for the good decisions I made. Above all, their interest in my life made me feel insanely fascinating and exciting. I felt good about myself and my abilities when I was with them.

When I left for college, I found myself living in an apartment with six other girls who were all amazingly talented, intelligent, and beautiful. I loved my roommates dearly, and we were really good friends. But I found myself feeling mediocre. My ability to sing or play the piano was no longer anything out of the ordinary. After all, every Mormon girl can sing and play the piano, right? For a long time, I tried to do anything that would bring me the praise and confidence boosts I missed receiving from my high school mentors.

One day when I was singing slightly louder in church, so that the person sitting next to me would compliment me, I realized how ridiculous I was being. Yes, I was being plain ridiculous! The girl sitting next to me had a beautiful voice, and she probably liked it when others told her. After the song was over, I told her that her voice was beautiful, and I learned that I didn’t need to begrudge others the compliments that were their due. Rather than diminish my self-worth by complimenting my neighbor, I had actually increased my confidence. No, I didn’t necessarily feel more capable of conquering the world with song, but I felt more confident in my ability to love.

Lesson Learned, Emily: Love the Curl

Contest entry #6 by Emily McBride. Don't forget, tomorrow is the last day to submit an essay.

When I was just starting Kindergarten, my hair fell in long, light-brown ringlets. People would ask my mom how much time she spent curling my hair every morning, to which she replied with a smile, “It’s natural.”

As I grew taller, my hair grew thicker and heavier, leaving me with unruly and uneven curls. I didn’t like my hair anymore and my flat iron became my new best friend. But this wasn’t an easy straightening job. My hair was thick and long and extra curly in the back. Every morning I would drag myself out of bed an entire hour early—just to straighten my hair.

I faithfully straightened my hair every day, and if I woke up late or didn’t feel well, I would just put it in a ponytail. I didn’t know how to control my curls, and I didn’t want to control my curls—I just wanted them to go away. Straight hair was in. I was so jealous of my friends that had naturally straight hair, who could just get out of the shower, part their hair down the middle, and let it dry in the sun.

At some point toward the end of high school, I got sick of straightening my hair. And I also became more sure of myself. I experimented with my brother’s hair gel and my blowdryer one day in the bathroom. I came out triumphant, with sticky, but nevertheless, curly, hair. I started wearing my hair curly to school on the days where I just didn’t feel like I getting up so early. And as time went on, I grew more adept at working with my curls. As I figured out which mousse held best and discovered that blowdrying my hair upside down worked wonders, my straightener began to serve me less and less.

Now, I sometimes go months without straightening my hair—and not because I’m lazy. I have a fancy flat iron now, one that cuts the straightening time in half. But I’ve embraced my curly hair and have come to love it. Short or long—I like my hair best when it’s curly.

So, what’s the point of my hair history? Am I saying that curly hair is better than straight hair? Or am I saying that it’s not worth it to spend time getting ready in the morning? No, not at all. What I’m trying to say is that part of becoming lovely is accepting and being grateful for who you are and working with what you have. Not only does it help you feel better about yourself—but it’s often more convenient, too :)

Best Imitation of Myself

Sometimes I wonder about how other people see me. I feel like there are so many different versions of me out there in the world just floating around. There is shy, independent, baby sister me; emotional high school me; funny, stressed, happy college me; me on a Friday night or me on a Monday morning; me with my friends and family and me at work. All of those versions (and so many others) make up the whole, but sometimes it bothers me that most people will only ever see one version of me.

There will be people who only interact with me once or twice and maybe I'll be having a terrible, no good day and they'll see and remember that not so lovely version of me. There will be people that, regardless of how much time and effort we both make, will never experience a version of me that works for them (and vice versa). There will also be those select few who will get a chance to see the whole package...and they will still love me, even when dealing with crazy, over-bearing control freak me.

I think that, in the end, people will see what they want to see. All I can do is remember that everyone is dealing with their own doubts, moods, fears, troubles, etc. and try to be the best version of myself regardless of those things.

Getting to Know You

I'm officially stealing a post idea from Annie. Maybe we can count it as a quasi-guest post? Anyway, she blogged about the age old tradition of sharing one interesting thing about yourself on the first day of school. I have always hated such getting-to-know-you questions...I never know what to say. I always wondered if people just kept an answer to this question on standby; I certainly tried to do just that but was never successful. My life always seemed unbearably boring and chronically uninteresting. That's not really true, but when I was put on the spot like that I could only think of the most mundane details of my life. Not like Annie. Annie has a plethora of "one interesting thing"s to share about herself. Things like almost meeting Tom Cruise and references to a decade of orthodontia.

In an effort to provide you Lovely Readers with a truly interesting fact about myself, I sat and thought for far too long about this question. My one interesting thing is that I won second place in a diorama contest in elementary school by creating scenes from The Lorax in a shoebox. The lid was the grimy "after" scene and when you slid the lid up, it revealed the "before" scene with the Swammy Swans and Truffula Trees and brown Barbaloots in their Barbaloot suits. It was quite involved.

And now I am very curious how you might answer this question.

So. Tell me. What is one interesting thing about you?

Secrets

I came across this article a while back while browsing around the internets and I saved it for some reason. Now I look at it again and I think, "Why did I save this?" I can only imagine I had an idea for a post but I cannot, for the life of me, remember that idea.

The article is called "11 Secrets Men Don't Know About Women," but they are kind of non-secrets and I don't really agree with a lot of them. Like the first one, for example: "Women don't like explosions, in art or in life." I actually do enjoy a movie with some explosions from time to time, especially really cool, fiery ones. And number three is a throw-away: "We grow pathetic goatees and look awful in cargo shorts anyway." What does that even mean?

If this list hadn't been written by a woman, it would tick me off. In fact, maybe because it was written by a woman I actually am a little ticked off. It's cliche and totally generic, right? Except for number eight: "Our clothes are complicated, our shoes unforgiving, and our constitutions delicate, so please, valet park." No one wearing 3-inch heels wants to park in China and hike to their destination. No one.

Maybe I saved this article because it bothered me so much. Maybe I felt like if this writer could include in a list of "secrets" the following statement: "Women aren't as funny as men. We're often cleverer, frequently wittier, but to be really funny demands a certain clownishness that our grace just does not allow. It's fine, really it is"- if that's the case, then maybe the list should have at least been clever or witty- since it's, you know, impossible for women to be funny.

So I'm not sharing this article because it's clever or witty or particularly poignant, but because it annoys me and I dislike it and I want you all to dislike it as well. That's a fair enough reason, right?

Guest Post: Brandon

Brandon is the founder of Notes on Parenting, a blog dedicated to giving parents important information about child development. It is also meant to bring up family life issues that we may not normally think about. Brandon is currently a student at Brigham Young University, majoring in Psychology with a minor in Family Life. He has been accepted for graduate studies in Human Development & Family Studies at the top schools around the nation. He and his wife have a beautiful (and teething) 9 month old daughter, who has done things all on her own time (i.e. she definitely doesn't fit what most of the development textbooks tell you!). Brandon's key interests include the transition to parenthood, the importance of fathers, and effective parenting.


How many times have you heard someone mention the impact of media on children? The most powerful video I've ever seen on the impact of media was created by Dove: Watch it here.

Seriously, after watching this video, all I can do is think, “I am raising my daughter with all of this around? How the heck do I protect her from all of this filth about what it takes to be a ‘real and beautiful’ woman?!”

But we can’t blame only outside influences--how many times do you yourself worry about how you look, or make comments about how you look in front of your children? Usually, what parents value, children begin to value as well; so if you are constantly worrying about those two extra pounds or your normal human body, children will begin to value a standard that may be unrealistic for their own bodies. Our bodies are sacred. Be careful what you do and say about your body around your children.

Additionally, everyday comments that we as parents make can influence our children's way of thinking about their bodies. For instance, which of the following approaches is better?

"Rachel! Stop watching TV all day. You'll get fat!"

-or-

"Rachel! Let's go for a bike ride together. It's a beautiful day!"

Both of these statements have the same intention--to get the child to stop watching TV and do something active--because the parent is worried about the child's exercise habits and health. However, the second example is much more effective on many levels. Instead of making the child worry about her looks and weight, the parent offers a better option for her daughter's time and body, while also spending time with the child. This is teaching by example. Be careful not to miss these small teaching moments! You can teach your children what real beauty is by letting them see your own priorities.

What do you have to say about this issue? How do you teach--or plan to teach--real beauty to your children?

Live In The Now

The weather has been great lately and I realize that it's so much easier to get up and out the door. Everything is better when the sun is out and the day is cool and breezy. So, I was driving to work and heard the lyrics, "It's time I forget the past and just learn to love what I have," and that got me thinking. I've been dwelling a lot lately. Not so much moping about how things are or regretting things I have done or wishing for things to be different, but dwelling on how certain things used to be.

My social situation is not ideal. My work situation is not ideal. My living situation is not ideal. None of those things are what I hoped they would be at this point in my life, but that doesn't mean they are bad. I have a friends, old and new, that I can talk to whenever I need them. I (finally) have a job that is paying me well and that I enjoy going to every day. I live with family and I get cuddles from my nephews anytime I want them. There are things in my life, right now, that are wonderful. Dwelling on the past only makes those things seem less wonderful and puts me in a bad mood.

And, here's the truth of it, I don't want to be back where I was. I've been there. I left those places and situations for a reason. Yes, I loved always having someone to go do something with whenever I felt like it. Yes, I loved the freedom of living on my own. Yes, I miss a lot about those times and people and situations. But why should that mean I am less happy with my current times and people and situations? The past should enhance our present and if it doesn't, then there's no point in dwelling on it.

I guess the point of this ramble of a blog post is that we should look around and enjoy what we have right now. Love the place where you live and the people that are around you. You never know when things will change and regret is one of the most unlovely things in this world. You don't want to get so caught up thinking about how things used to be that you forget to see how things are.

A Post About Disney Princesses: Inevitable

Shannon Hale is one of my favorite authors and it's totally because she's all about the girl power. Her books are about strong, smart girls who rescue themselves (and usually the boys as well). I try to pick a favorite book of hers to recommend to people, but I can never pick just one and end up just telling people to read them all.

So, she posted this post on her blog the other day and, coincidentally, I have been thinking a lot about the Disney Princesses lately. Possibly because I spend a good portion of my day coloring and drawing Disney Princesses to the delight of the 6-year-old girl I babysit. I've been staring at these characters and started to really think about who they are and what they represent. They are all different ages and from different places and situations. They all (except for Snow White, she's just trying to not get killed) are rebelling against/asserting their independence from another main character; a step-mother, father, fairy caretaker, etc. They all end up with a handsome prince who comes and saves the day just in the nick of time.

Don't get me wrong, I love all of those movies (Sleeping Beauty especially, and it's one of the worst offenders of feminism). They are like romantic comedies for children. You watch and you dream of ways life could be or adventures that await you in some far off land. I think it's good to do those things. There's often talk about Disney movies instilling unreal expectations for life, but they really just tell some funny, exciting and beautiful stories. Also, Disney is doing a pretty good job, story-wise, in offering new princesses that learn to fend for themselves, save the day, achieve their dreams AND marry a handsome prince, Giselle and Tiana specifically. If you remember, Giselle climbs out onto a steep rooftop in an evening gown in the middle of a rainstorm to fight a dragon and save the life of her true love.

Still, with these small steps in a good direction, there is the notion of catering to an audience and making changes in order to sell more tickets to a wider audience. This isn't something that can be avoided, really, but it can be lessened (as Shannon Hale remarks). It's all about what we are showing our boys and girls. I know plenty of little boys who like princess stuff purely because it's the stuff their friends and sisters are playing with. On the other hand, I know plenty of girls who like dinosaurs and trains and cars because it's the stuff their friends and brothers are playing with. It's all fun and new and exciting. Kids develop their gender issues based on what they are taught by the world around them. And boys are not going to be fooled into going to see the new Rapunzel movie simply because the name was changed to "Tangled." That sounds more like a Harlequin Romance novel, if you ask me.

Just a Friendly Reminder

(Get it here. http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?ref=vl_other_2&listing_id=42144422)

Media Moment: Tina Fey

I had a thought recently about how often we talk about the media and how it portrays women or how it tells us this or that about how or what we should be. It seems a little unfair to make such a huge generalization when there are people out there in the media that are showing us how to be strong, smart AND pretty and telling us that, not only is it okay, it's better.

So I thought and thought about how to approach this topic and, while trying to make a list of movies, TV shows, actresses, books, etc. that exemplify what I'm getting at, I found Tina Fey.

I kind of have a little crush on Tina Fey. I don't think I'm alone here...at least I hope I'm not alone here. It's more like I have respect for her and what she does. She's successful and funny and a hard-working mother. She's pretty, but in a normal person kind of way.

Tina Fey recently did a cover and article for Vogue. She talks a lot about fashion (because it's Vogue), but it's refreshingly normal and down-to-earth. She's not one of those supermodels who talk about how awkward and ugly they were when they were young - you don't want to groan and roll your eyes and refuse sympathy. She is incredibly easy to relate to because she is a normal woman. They even talk about her normalcy throughout the article - growing up with hand-me-downs, being curvy, being a mother. Instead of rambling on more (and further embarrassing myself with my newly confessed girl crush), here are a few quotes from the article:

A friend of [the interviewer's] recently said this: "Her existence is such a relief." By which she meant that women of a certain age who are cool, funny, and smart but who are by no means fabulous—who are in fact befuddled by much of what passes for fabulous these days—are relieved to see Fey celebrated as such. When I share this with Fey, she says in the most sincere tone imaginable, "That is such a lovely thing to say." She thinks it over for only a second. "I feel like I represent normalcy in some way. What are your choices today in entertainment? People either represent youth, power, or sexuality. And then there's me, carrying normalcy." Pause. "Me and Rachael Ray."

Tom Broecker (costume designer for SNL and 30 Rock) says, "She has subtly changed what women look like on a weird level: the acceptance of the dark-haired girl, the acceptance of the sexy librarian, the girl with the glasses who's smart but can be pretty."

And, funny enough, she talks about fashion magazines and their skinny campaign:

"People will say, 'Oh, fashion magazines are so bad, they're giving girls a negative message'—but we're also the fattest country in the world, so it's not like we're all looking at fashion magazines and not eating. Maybe it just starts a shame cycle: I'm never going to look like that model, so…Chicken McNuggets it is! And conversely, I don't look at models who are crazy skinny and think I want to look like that, because a lot of them are gigantic, with giant hands and feet. Also, my dad is an artist—a painter by hobby—and I constantly would see realistic nudes. Because we were raised around art and went to museums and the women I grew up around were curvy…there wasn't this value on skinny, skinny, skinny. Curvy was clearly meant to be the winner. I go up and down a few pounds with a relative amount of kindness to myself. And I have a daughter, and I don't want her to waste her time on all of that."


http://www.vogue.com/include/vogue/voguediaries/2010_March_Vogue_Cover_Girl_Tina_Fey/player.html

Be Imperfect

You are not a walking mistake.
You are not a problem to be solved.

--Adyashanti

With all our talk about improving ourselves and becoming lovely, we want to make sure that we don't get carried away with the renovations. The point to remember is that change is the natural way of things--there will always be things about you that you feel you need to improve. That doesn't mean that there's something wrong with you. (You get dirty every day, and then you have to shower, but you don't feel bad about yourself for needing the shower to get clean again.) Before you can really make any changes, you have to accept yourself where you are, and be able to see your imperfections without hating yourself for them.


(Image source: Allison Reynolds)

All it Takes is Faith and Trust...

Maybe I watched Finding Neverland this weekend and maybe I cried in a room full of people, but I don't feel too bad about it. It made me think of this quote Megan has been toying around with from e.e. cummings:

"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are."

One of my favorite parts in Finding Neverland is when J.M. Barrie (the author of Peter Pan) is talking to George, the oldest of the four boys in the movie. George has just realized that his mother is seriously ill and J.M. Barrie says, "Magnificent. The boy is gone. In the last 30 seconds... you became a grown-up." It seems like a sad and random part to like, but I like it all the same.

It really is easy to see such a change in a person if you are really looking. It's sad and wonderful and it's like seeing into the future. You can see a person gathering their courage before taking that final leap. You can see where that leap might take them based on the decision they are making. Most importantly, if you are paying attention, you can be aware of when this change happens to you. I think it can happen several times throughout your life. We aren't limited to one try at becoming a grown-up or at becoming who we really are (thank goodness). We have endless opportunities to take the courage to grow up a little more each day and that is what will help us become the lovely people we are meant to be.

Constantly Trying to Figure Things Out

Of the three writers of this blog, I am not usually the one who knows what has been happening on NPR, but there's a first time for everything!

"Can you tell your life story in exactly six words?"

It's a short story about six-word memoirs and the book, It All Changed in an Instant. It isn't easy coming up with just six words that encompass your whole life. Do you go funny or serious? Do you try to focus on one defining moment or event in your life or keep it general? It feels like you shouldn't have to think about it so much. It's just six words, right? Easy.

Or not. It's six words that tell your life story. Maybe I'm just over dramatic. Either way, I'd love if you Lovely Readers tried it out and shared your six-word memoir with us.