The Color of Home

As I've discussed recently, Adam and I are really excited to finally have a home that we can make our own: a fireplace where we can burn fires, a kitchen where we can hang shelves, and, of course, walls we can paint.

We finally decided to paint both an accent wall in the living room AND the entirety of our little bathroom. The living room will be a bigger project (mostly because we'll have to move all the furniture away from the wall and work around a humungous hot water pipe), so we decided to do the bathroom first.

The chosen color: Firecracker. That's right: a bright orange-pink color! (It's actually a lot brighter and crazier than the internet photo shows.)

We went and picked up the paint and supplies two Fridays ago, but last weekend we were too busy to paint. So today, after our morning trip to Target in Brooklyn (new coat FTW!), we cracked open the paint can and slapped some of that sweet color on the walls.

And it looks AWESOME.

I've never been a fan of having nothing but blank white walls, particularly in bathrooms— I always think it makes everything look more institutional, more clinical. But out bathroom looks like a dream now! And the color looks really great with our bright yellow towels and shower curtain.

Here's a picture of the way it looks so far:

The only thing we have left to do is the top of the walls up by the ceiling; we'll need to borrow a ladder to do that part, because it's so high up. That's why it looks uneven at the top of the walls in these photos. But it's looking pretty good, for an under-construction bathroom!

We're thinking something equally bright (only in orange or yellow) for the living room...hopefully to match the fire in our fireplace, which will be happening as soon as we get our yearly chimney cleaning.

And while you may not be crazy about our chosen color, you have to admit— you've probably never seen a bathroom painted Firecracker before!

What's the craziest color you've ever seen a room painted? (I saw a photo of a room in a bright, crazy green once— and it looked splendid!)

Killing Me With Cute

Sorry I missed the Girl's Night Out, all! I was helping Adam cook dinner, and he was telling me stories about his day. We made chicken tacos (with blue corn taco shells!) and then for dessert we had blackberry milkshakes (yum!).

Anyways, here's what I needed to show you:

Cutest. Commercial. EVER.

What is it about adorable animals that can instantly turn me back into a five-year-old? As soon as the above commercial began playing on TV, I leapt up and screamed "KITTIES!!" like I'd never seen one before. I think I may have actually broken my husband's left eardrum.

I'm a sucker for cute. When I was six, we got cutouts of "Mr. Molar," a smiling tooth character promoting good dental hygiene, in school one day. Mr. Molar was so adorable that I kept him for, oh, I don't know...eight years? At nine, I kept a plastic grocery bag I'd gotten at a store, simply because the "Have A Nice Day" smiley face was so endearing.

New York is a hard place to be addicted to cute, because there are SO MANY CUTE DOGS. Every day I find myself distracted, going to and from work, by adorable puppies on the sidewalk. There have even been some disgustingly cute kitty sightings; every evening, as I'm returning home, I peer eagerly into the window of my husband's professor's apartment (which is right next to our building), hoping that one of her kitties will be sitting there.

What melts your heart?

Community

Just got back from matriculation dinner, and— I'm not gonna lie— I'm kinda tipsy. After the service we had a big fancy dinner with lots of wine, so I'm kinda done for the night. (There was also an after party on the roof of one of the apartment buildings; I went for a while, and Adam is still over there as I write this.)

It's so nice to feel like part of a community again. After UWC and Vassar, I became used to feeling like I was part of a community, but in Ohio, I always felt like an outsider. I wasn't born and bred in Y-town, and so that meant that a lot of people thought of me as an interloper. Being interested in learning and reading and thinking wasn't something I could share with a lot of people (besides my family and my husband, of course), so I didn't have a lot of friends this past year.

But here, everyone has a smile for me. Everyone says, "Hello, Philosophy!" (or even "Hello, Sophy!") and everyone asks about my job and my cats, and no one makes me feel silly or uncomfortable or lonely. Do you know that another couple in our building asked us over for dinner on Sunday? In Youngstown, I didn't know anyone else; everyone else there was kind enough to me, but they all assumed that because I was smart, I was a snob.

This is HOME, in a way I never expected it to be. Every day, when I get off of work, I can't wait to get back home. Our apartment may be messy (and it's about to get messier— we're painting this weekend!) but it's where I belong.

I love living here so much. Thank the Lord we made it here at last!

Breakfast: A Bright Beginning

I've recently become completely enamored of breakfast as a meal.

Now, when I was growing up, I used to HATE breakfast. I thought breakfast was a waste of time, a terrible misuse of those extra minutes between snooze alarms. In fact, eating breakfast actually made me feel nauseous, since my stomach seemed to be unable to cope with food so early in the morning. I was never really all that hungry until I got home from school, anyways, so I never felt like I was missing out by not eating brekkie.

In fact, from about age three until age seventeen, when I left home, do you know what I had for breakfast (if you could call it that) every single day of my life? A glass of Ovaltine. I was OBSESSED with the stuff. Remember those silly Ovaltine commercials with the little kids yelling "More Ovaltine, please!"? Well, I could have been one of those kids. And that was all anyone could coax me into eating before noon...until recently.

About a year ago, though, I discovered the joys of eating a delicious breakfast. Why? Well, part of it might have been the knowledge that eating breakfast is actually really good for you, but another part of it might have been that great middle ground meal— brunch. Brunch is a fabulous idea. Whomever decided that waking up at a leisurely hour, putting on a comfortable knitted sweater (and perhaps a scarf or beret), and drinking any number of delicious beverages (coffee, tea, mimosas...) in combination with any number of delicious food items could be a good idea was a Mighty Genius, and ought to have won, I don't know, the Nobel Peace Prize or something.

So about two years ago, I started with Cheerios. Simple, delicious, easy to fix. Then I moved on to toast with jam— sugary sweet, but also simple and delicious! Then, in France, I discovered the breakfast crepe— and the dessert crepe, which I devoured just as early in the morning as the breakfast crepe, much to the horror of my French host family.

Now, my obsessions are threefold:

-Honey Bunches of Oats. OH. MY. GOD. Someone stick the Philosophy E. Walker Stamp of Approval on this puppy, because this cereal is AMAZING. When Adam first proposed the purchase of such a cereal, I balked; after all, "bunches of oats" doesn't really conjure up amazing taste sensations. But wow, this stuff is SO GOOD. (And probably pretty bad for me, but I break up my HBOO consumption with days where I eat healthier things.)

-Chocolate chop waffles. You know the only thing better than chocolate chip waffles? Chocolate chip waffles made in my HELLO KITTY WAFFLE MAKER. BOOYA.

-Adam's famous "Who-Hash." Adam is an amazing cook, and one day, about a year ago, he invented this awesome egg scramble with bacon, onions, celery, and lots of different spices. He calls it "Who-Hash," after the meal mentioned in The Grinch.

Recently, though, I've felt the need to transition into the era of the smoothie. Everyone in New York seems to be carrying around smoothies, but their smoothies seem to be of the high-fructose-corn-syrup-containing kind, and I figure I could make something even better myself, at home. I have berries, and yogurt, and milk, ad honey, and even tangerine sorbet (all natural!), so maybe those ingredients can combine into a delicious smoothie this week.

I'm always looking for new things to try for breakfast. Anyone have any ideas?

Memory

Yesterday, I found out that someone I knew from high school— that is, UWC— died last week. She died in her sleep, of heart failure.

It always feels strange when someone you know dies— and it's even stranger when they're so young, and when the death was in no way anticipated.

My grandmother told me this summer that it's a terrible thing to be as old as she is, to be 84 and know that most of the people she loved— her husband, her best friends, her parents— are all dead. She said it almost as if she wished she weren't alive anymore. "It's awful, outliving your friends, your family, your generation," she said vehemently. "At some point, there's no one left."

It makes me so sad to think about her family, her good friends, the people who spent every day with her. Isn't that terrible— to assume that you have someone for years and years to come, and then suddenly lose them, suddenly lose those years, forever?

Your mission, should you choose to accept it: tell everyone you love that you love them. Tell them now. You never know when it might be your last chance.

The Rest Of My Life

Arghhhhhh. What should I do with my life?

I could become a veterinarian, and help sick animals to get better. Or I could go to med school and become a gynecologist— then I could be an abortion doctor, which is something I've always thought was important. Or I could go to seminary and get a collar like my husband. Or I could start a non-profit organization and help people out. Or...I could keep trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to be a writer.

Or I could do something else. I just don't know!

How did YOU decide what you wanted to be when you grew up? And what if you were already grown up when you started to try and figure it out?

 

Zzzzzzz.....

Why am I so friggin' TIRED all the time?

I've been sick this week, so maybe that's it. My first day of work was today, and I have a forty minute walking commute each way, so maybe that's it. I also walked around during my break, and I didn't eat nearly enough for lunch (too nervous about how my first day was going!), so maybe that's it.

But it's like I've been constantly exhausted since I got to the City, and I can't shake it. I never seem to get enough rest. Sleep is my favorite part of the day now, and that part never seems to be long enough.

I'm too tired to even write a decent PNN post. How pathetic is that?

How do you beat seemingly overwhelming exhaustion?

Photos From The New Place

Here's are some pictures of a couple of our rooms!

The bathroom:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The kitchen:

 

 

 

 

 

 

The living room and bedroom are not yet ready for their close-ups, but should be done later on this week.

 

And here's a random picture of us in Central Park yesterday:

We're Here!

We're finally in our new home!

The arrival was rocky— trust me, avoid driving a Budget moving truck through Manhattan if you can. We also had to park in front of a fire hydrant in order to unload our stuff, since the seminary doesn't, y'know, have a parking lot or anything. And lugging all of our heavy furniture up four flights of stairs in 80-degree heat wasn't the best idea, either.

But after that there was Indian food, and after that there was sleep. And now there is a teensy apartment filled with boxes upon boxes of too much stuff.

The apartment is beautiful— high ceilings and plenty of windows and black, glossy wooden floors and even an old fireplace (though we can't light fires in it or anything). The only problem is that the kitchen is TINY. I mean, like, it's about half the size of our old one. There is pretty much no counter space, and pretty much no room for all our kitchen stuff. Plus, there's no dishwasher. (Adam says the reason for all this is because the apartments are so old that they used to only have a bedroom, a parlour, and a servant's room, and the kitchen is what used to be the servant's room.) But otherwise it's an awesome apartment, and I think it'll make a lovely new home!

Everyone is super nice, too, including our awesome neighbors across the hall! Their names are Terry and Gabe (not sure on the spelling yet), and they're absolutely lovely. Gabe is the seminary student; Terry is the breadwinner (like me, as soon as I get a job), and he's ALSO A WRITER. OMG I'M SO EXCITED!

There are so many lovely places around us, too— wonderful cafes and bakeries and restaurants and cinemas and all sorts of stuff. And Chelsea is absolutely gorgeous, with big beautiful trees and old stone buildings. It's so great!

As soon as we can slap this place into reasonable shape, I'll post pictures. HUZZAH, NEW YORK!

Secret Exercise

Those who know me well know that I enjoy a good bout of physical activity. I love to put on my iPod and take a long stroll through town, or go for a jog around the block, or even follow along with my free yoga DVD that I got as part of some promotion or other.

Today, for example, I went to the Y (apparently I'm still a member, because we forgot to notify them that I'm now married and therefore not covered under my parents' "family" membership anymore...shhhhh...) and enjoyed a five-minute warm-up, twenty minutes on the elliptical, a few moments on the weight machines, and then a leisurely swim and a trip to the water slides.

But I'd really like to include my husband in some of these activities-- not because he needs them, by any means (he's in great shape), but because it's so much more fun to do stuff together.

The problem is this: Adam hates exercise that FEELS like exercise. Like, he enjoys some physical activities (playing golf, swimming, bike riding, etc.) but hates anything that qualifies as "going to the gym." He'll go for a hike with me, but he won't go to the track with me.

So I'm trying to think of some different exercise-ish things that we could do together in NYC-- things that don't feel exercise-ish but really do provide lots of physical movement. I'm thinking I'd like to learn to play tennis (we have tennis courts at the new place), but I don't know where I'd get racquets (aren't those expensive?) and I'm not sure whether or not Adam would really want to play.

I'd also like to find a ballroom dancing class (Adam has actually said he would do that with me!) but I dunno where I could find an affordable one.

What do you do for exercise? Any advice?

More On Paint

So now that we know exactly which apartment we'll have when we get to New York, we're starting to plan for the Great Painting Project!

See this floor plan? Our apartment is 4B. See that wall across from the front door-- not the one with the windows, the other one? That's the wall we'll paint.

Today we went with my mom and sister to look at paint chips at Lowe's, and we narrowed it down to the following colors:

-Pomegranate Punch

-Autumn Gala

-Orange Glow

-Dandelion Wish

-Yellow Mustard

-La Fonda Flamenco Pink

-Lemon Curd

There was also a darker green that we liked, but it might be a little too dark for what we're trying to accomplish (i.e., making the room look bigger and more open).

We don't have any matching furniture or anything, so basically it'll end up being whatever color looks the prettiest.

Any input?

In Defense Of Exercise

Adam and I eagerly await the arrival of the mailman every afternoon, and last week, when we ran out to receive our mail, I happened to glance at the cover of my grandma’s new Time. The cover story, which featured an exercising woman smiling at a yummy-looking cupcake, was titled, rather provocatively: “Why Exercise Won’t Make You Thin.”

I was intrigued; I’m very active, and attribute some of my thinness to my activity level (although some of it is, admittedly, genetic). Also fascinating was the apparent reversal of recent faddish weight-loss advice; I was under the impression that, according to a few pieces in other news magazines, exercise was still a prominent part of weight management.

Well, I found the Time article pretty unsatisfactory, to say the least. For one thing, it’s hard to take it seriously when Time actually published an article last September extolling the virtues of exercise in overcoming genetic obesity. For another, the entire article equated the inability of exercise to cause weight loss in and of itself to an inability to encourage it when combined with diet and other factors. In other words, the piece seemed to conclude that, if exercise isn’t a magic solution to obesity, then it’s pretty much useless for those wanting to lose weight.

But the most annoying part was the article’s flagrant dismissal of the well-established benefits of exercise:

“Today doctors encourage even their oldest patients to exercise, which is sound advice for many reasons: People who regularly exercise are at significantly lower risk for all manner of diseases — those of the heart in particular. They less often develop cancer, diabetes and many other illnesses. But the past few years of obesity research show that the role of exercise in weight loss has been wildly overstated.”

I despise that— the way the author completely ignores actual health. Um, I always thought that the medical community was interested in lowering obesity rates so that people would be healthier, not so that they’d look like supermodels. Gee, I guess the only motivation for exercising could possibly to look sexyhot, and not to, y’know, live longer and feel better.

In all the hype over what we eat and when we ought to eat it, I feel like exercise is sometimes downplayed or ignored in terms of what it can do for you, and what its absence can mean for your wellbeing. I’m a huge fan of Michael Pollan, but among my critiques of his method (and there are several things upon which we disagree) is this: that he doesn’t accurately account for decreasing levels of activity in his analysis of the American health crisis. And while I hate this review from the Texas Observer purely because it seems to have missed a couple chapters of In Defense Of Food entirely, it does have something useful to say about Pollan's narrow focus on processed food:

"At one point, he scolds medical researchers for practicing 'parking-lot science,' which is the idea that when one loses his keys in a dark parking lot, he automatically searches under the nearest streetlight. The reference, however, fails to prevent Pollan from allowing processed food to become his own streetlight. Ignoring altogether the roles that exercise, heredity, race, social class, occupation, access to health care, and geography play in mediating the myriad connections between diet and health, Pollan limits his search to the well-lighted space under industrial food’s streetlight, where he finds—no surprise—the lost keys to 'a maximally healthy diet.'"

Pollan hates that we’ve become so reductionist about nutrients (“Omega-3s are GOOD! Saturated fat is EVIL!”), but in the end, he can sound a bit reductionist himself, as he often constructs thinly veiled accusations holding the entire food industry responsible for almost every disease prevalent in America today. And while I agree with him that processed foods are horrible and cooking is a must and we need to reform the entire food industry in order to harmonize more with nature and our own bodies, I don’t think that food alone is responsible for American obesity or for the increase in cardiovascular diseases.

I believe health has to be approached holistically— no one thing can help you lose weight or strengthen your heart or lower your cholesterol. Diet is important, but so is exercise— and low-impact, everyday activity (like taking the stairs or walking to the store) is important, but so is raising your heart rate through routine exercise, even if that exercise is just running in the park or playing touch football with your kids or dancing to the radio for about a half hour while you wait for your significant other to get home from work. (Guilty!)

No one thing is going to magically make you healthier. Like with most things in life, there is no quick fix here. But changing a couple aspects of your lifestyle will help, if you do them in tandem and if you maintain them responsibly. Exercise alone isn’t going to make you healthier; natural, whole foods will help, too. But just because exercise alone won’t make everything hunky dory doesn’t mean you shouldn’t exercise. It just means you should think about the effect that exercise has on your diet.

Exercise is still good for you. It's just not going to fix everything.

The Age of Divorce

As I'm on the younger end of the newlywed demographic (especially among my friends, many of whom are happy with their unmarried statuses), I enjoy keeping up with other married couples I know via Facebook. Several of my friends from high school are now engaged or married, and so are a couple of people I knew in college.

But since I'm such a young bride, I always appreciate when I can find friends of mine who actually got married BEFORE I did. Two of my contemporaries were married before I was. Since I popped a lot of my friends' wedding cherries (and, I think, popped Claire's bridesmaid cherry), I like to know that I'm not alone, that I'm not really such a trailblazer.

Which is why I felt strange today when I found out (thanks, Facebook!) that one of those acquaintances is separating from her husband.

I didn't really know her all that well, but it makes me feel funny, knowing this— and not just because it seems strange that people we don't even know well can see these intimate details of our lives the moment those details come into focus. No, I felt funny about it because it seems like we just entered the marriage demographic; it feels a little bit early for the divorce stats to kick in.

Now, because I grew up in The Land Of Pregnant Ten-Year-Olds, I entered the pregnancy demographic earlier than most. My friends and acquaintances have been giving birth since I was in middle school, so I never really saw that as a sign that we were all getting older or anything— just that some of us weren't using our heads as well as others.

But when we all started getting engaged and then married, it really DID feel like the end of an era, a sign that we're all poised to morph into our parents. Even now, Facebook reminds me daily of the new adult worlds we've begun to build for ourselves— mortgage loans are trumpeted, second and third children are conceived and born, medical or law schools are entered (and exited), and white dresses and veils adorn almost every photo album. My friends buy cars and get jobs and consider moving to the suburbs; meanwhile, our parents (who have all finally joined Facebook just so they can write "HI!" on our walls every day) have begun posting about their vacations and new condos in Florida and retirement plans.

When I first joined Facebook in 2004, all my friends were writing about drinking and parties and tests and cute boys. Now they're posting pictures of Junior's first day of Kindergarden. (True story, by the way. Can you imagine me with a five-year-old? Neither can I.)

And now— separation. Annulments. Alimony. Divorce.

I know it may seem silly to some of you older folks, but for me, seeing that announcement was almost like getting a telegram from Middle Aged Land: ONE DAY YOU WILL LIVE HERE TOO. SEE YOU SOON.

I'm not really afraid of Middle Aged Land. I like watching Jeopardy! and going to bed at 10, you know. I'm not afraid of actually being middle aged, when the time comes (and I know it's a long ways off). But I'm afraid of the time that's gone for good— of the idea that I can actually feel my life ticking by, that I can feel the sand falling through the hourglass.

That, my friends, is a weird feeling, indeed.

Official News

It's official. Adam is enrolled at General Theological Seminary. We're moving to New York City, at last!

It's so nice to finally KNOW where we're going— to know for sure, I mean. The suspense was totally killing me, but now I can hunker down with apartment blueprints and job applications and phone numbers for the YMCA/JCC and get down to planning, which y'all know I love so much.

We joined the GTS Facebook group, and everyone seems nice, though I will say that it's clear we'll pretty much be the youngest people in the entire place. I mean, that's cool, because I've always enjoyed the company of older folks, but I have been staying with my grandma for a whole month, so I'm hoping these older folks won't be telling too many stories about the seventies. Yes, I know everyone smoked. Yes, I know everyone wore those stupid baggy pants. No, I am not impressed by either of those things.

Meanwhile, I've applied to approximately seventy bazillion jobs and have so far heard nothing back at all. How long should I wait before I assume these folks just don't want to hire me? Is it like a date— if I didn't wow them on the first try, will they just not call? Or are they just waiting a few days or weeks before calling just so they don't seem clingy? I don't know much about job-hunting etiquette, other than what I've read in advice columns. (Apparently, when they ask you about your flaws in a job interview, you should never answer with something cute like, "Well, I'm too much of a perfectionist," or "Sometimes I'm just too focused," or some other answer that is really a description of your virtues disguised as a self-criticism. I didn't know this before. Huh— the things you can learn on the internet...)

I guess what I'm asking is the employment version of Carrie Bradshaw's typed questions on "Sex and the City":

Is this par for the course— or are these employers just not that into me?

Kitties Are Cool

Y'know what's cool?

Using this chart, I've found out that Charlotte Bronte is roughly the same age as I am. Well, that is, my age in human years is equivalent to her age in "cat years."

And Lenore is a teenager, which explains a LOT.

Having pets and getting to totally spoil them is one of the fabulous perks of being a carefree, childless twenty-something. Cats don't need a lot of maintenance (they pee in a box and they don't need help to eat or clean themselves), they don't whine or talk back, and they can be moved around a lot without needing new schools or new friends!

But I still feel a lot of responsibility towards my cats— I mean, they depend on me for everything, and the level of care that I provide is directly responsible for the ease and comfort of their lives. I'm not quite ready to sew them any little outfits or anything, but I get a lot of good companionship from my kitties, and Adam and I have come to think of them as integral parts of our little family.

I'm trying to prepare my kitties for the next few weeks; they'll be uprooted yet again in a week or so when we drive back to Ohio, and then again two weeks later when we move to New York. It's hard, though, since it's not like you can just explain these things to cats and have them understand you. Poor things! Every time we up and move them, they seem freaked out.

How do you help make travel nicer for your pets?

Groceries in NYC

Want to know some cool stuff about my soon-to-be home neighborhood? Check this out, and this, too.

The closest supermarket to our place will be a Whole Foods. WHOLE FOODS. I've never lived within an hour of a Whole Foods. I've only actually ever been inside a Whole Foods once. And now I'll live right next to one. WHOA. It blows my mind. I probably won't be able to afford to shop there all that often, but still— it'll be THERE. I'm in awe.

You know you're living the big city dream when you get to live near a Whole Foods. And yes, I am a country bumpkin. Thanks for asking.

I'm actually getting excited about grocery shopping in New York. Is that sad? Probably. It's just that it'll be nice to go to Green Market and get organic eggs and grain-fed beef and whatnot. And Adam and I will also be splitting the cooking duty more evenly (since I'll have a full-time job and he'll be a full-time student), so I'll get to cook 2-3 times per week! And because of our budget, we probably will only be able to go out to eat on special occasions (such as our ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY coming up soon!), so we'll have to get creative in the kitchen— and I LOVE being forced to get creative. It's been one of the best things about not having a lot of money: having to come up with smart ways to save and use and reuse, and figuring out little tricks in order to save cash. It makes me feel so clever and slick! :)

It's also comforting to think of the sheer variety of food available in a big city. No more blank stares from shelf-stocking boys when I ask if the local grocery store carries tahini! (The last kid I asked seemed convinced that tahini would be a spice, and directed us to the spice aisle.) I'm willing to bet that most of the more exotic cooking ingredients I'll need can be found in New York, and that I'll be able to get my hands on a decent jar of grape leaves or a fun French cheese without having to make a special journey out-of-state or anything.

I know I've been asking a lot of you guys lately, but I need some more advice. Shopping: where do you shop for groceries? How do you get the best deals? What kinds of meal-planning suggestions do you have? And how can one learn to be a better cook? (This last one is imperative, since my husband's cooking is far superior to mine; I don't want him to dread the nights when I cook dinner!)

The Wall

It turns out that we're allowed to paint our new apartment in New York. No, seriously! PAINT!

I've never painted my own space before. I mean, my mom and dad painted my room when I was a kid, but I've never had my own home that I could paint myself. Painting was out of the question in the dorms, and Le Chateau forbade painting entirely.

And now I'll have my own one-bedroom apartment in Manhattan (rent: $1,100— you might not believe it, but that's pretty good for living in Chelsea and not sharing with anyone but my spouse, especially since that's ALL utilities included) with hardwood floors and cool seminary neighbors and walls I can paint!

But it's my first paint job, and I don't want to overdo it, especially since things will be crazy enough when we move in, so I don't want to make too much more work for us. My solution? We'll just paint ONE wall. My mom does this all the time, to make rooms look bigger and brighter.

I'm thinking we'll do the living room wall that is most visible when you enter the room. Believe it or not, I actually have visited GTS before— but it was two years ago, and Adam and I had only been dating a total of two days, so I wasn't really paying that much attention to detail. As a result, I have a vague recollection of the apartment layout, but I think it's sufficient to help me begin my design planning.

My possible colors? Light, cheery ones, which will open up the tiny room and make it look cheerful. I've been playing with the Sherwin-Williams online visualizer, and I really like color #6902, which is appropriately titled "Decisive Yellow." I also like #6891 ("Mandarin") and #6923 ("Festival Green"). (Adam wants me to inform you that he likes #6925, “Envy.” He’s surprisingly enthusiastic about this whole designing thing!)

Obviously I need to move into the space before I make any decisions, but it's fun to think about it, don't you think?

Speaking of which: who has painting advice to share? Or some sweet color suggestions for me?

Making Friends

Adam got an email from General today— they're holding a one-bedroom apartment for us! I'm thrilled; we were kinda thinking they'd saddle us with a studio, which would've be okay, I s'pose, but the difference in price wasn't enough to make it a much better deal than the roomier one-bedroom.

Now I'm REALLY getting excited about moving! I'm looking at farmer's markets and jobs (I applied for an AWESOME job today— as an assistant web editor— and it sounds so cool that I'm almost guaranteed not to get it) and now I'm thinking about some other stuff— how I can get a subway pass, where I can find an affordable vet, and where to exercise (I'm thinking the JCC— we had great experiences in Pittsburgh with the local JCC, and I've seen websites that say the Manhattan one offers free exercise classes on Saturday nights).

But I'm also thinking about that all-important part of moving to a new place: making friends. I'll have some friends in the area, of course, and a few in other cities that are accessible to NYC, but I'd like to make a few new friends, too, and I'm hoping I can do that.

The problem is that I'm not a swingin' single, so bars and clubs are out; the seminary might be a good place to meet people, but I'm afraid that our age (we seem to be a bit younger than most of the others there) might make the other students a little hesitant to seriously befriend us. I mean, would I want to make friends with someone ten years younger than I am? A fourteen-year-old couple doesn't exactly sound like a barrel of laughs, am I right?

Where exactly do young marrieds make friends? Church is out, because our church will be the same as our school— we'll attend services on-campus (and I'm really excited that evensong will be offered at the school's church on a regular basis). Work might be a possibility, but as I don't actually HAVE a job yet, I might not want to depend on that as a source of friendship.

Will any New Yorkers even WANT to be our friends? Will it be possible to meet new single friends without it being, like, totally weird? Gosh, I suck at this. I always have been bad at meeting people.

How do you make friends? Got any advice?

Free Food!

I love pastries. I love free stuff. So how much do you think I love FREE PASTRIES?!

Tomorrow, from opening time until 10:30 a.m., Starbucks is giving away free pastries with coffee orders. Yes, it's true. And if you do not already know, I LOVE Starbucks. I'm, like, the only person who actually loves Starbucks' coffee (as opposed to putting up with it because it's convenient or it's the only coffee place in town), so I'm totally thrilled about this.

Tomorrow I'm waking up and getting to Starbucks around 7 a.m., just so I can be sure they won't run out of free delicious muffins. FREE MUFFINS. I LOVE FREE MUFFINS.

What are some of your favorite things to get for free? And how can *I* get them?

Quoth the Raven...

Yesterday, the tiny and adorable kitten Lenore came to live with us!

Lenore is Charlotte Brontë 's full-blooded sister, but the two were born in different litters. So Lenore is a year younger than Charlotte, and therefore much smaller, but for some reason Charlotte seems to be terrified of her baby sister instead of the other way around.

For her part, Lenore doesn't seem panicked about her new home, but she refuses to leave the bedroom. She hanging out on and under the bed, but only managed to walk around the rest of the apartment for about ten minutes last night.

Anyways— here are some pictures! Doesn't she look so so so much like Charlotte?

The Worst Day

To those of you to whom I have already spoken: thanks for your good wishes, prayers, and kind thoughts.

Here are the facts:

At approximately 8:30 this morning, my husband, Adam McCluskey, was driving on I-680 on his way home from taking me to work. When our truck encountered a patch of black ice, it skidded sideways, then flipped over and rolled at least once. While Adam has little recollection of exactly what happened and when, he says that a fellow motorist stopped and assisted him in exiting the truck and contacting 911. An ambulance transported him to St. Elizabeth's, at which point they called his mother, who in turn phoned me while I was at work.

A work colleague very kindly drove me to the hospital, where I was immediately taken to see my husband. As a side note: this entire experience has truly strengthened my belief in the importance of permitting gay couples to wed, as I never realized how vital those spousal rights are in such horribly uncertain moments as hospital visits. As it was, I was whisked away to the ER trauma area as soon as I revealed myself to be Adam's wife, whereupon I promptly burst into tears and hyperventilated at the sight of Adam lying on a gurney with a neck brace on, covered in bandages.

(Keep in mind that this occurred immediately after Adam went missing for twelve hours. He went to visit a friend at 7 pm yesterday evening, and he fell asleep there, and NO ONE THOUGHT TO WAKE HIM OR TELL HIS WIFE. And he had accidentally taken my phone with him, so I couldn’t even call the police. He didn’t come home until 7 am, and I was hysterical after a night of no sleep and all worry.)

In the end, though, he was okay. He suffered head trauma, head lacerations, chest bruises, a pretty nasty shoulder injury, and some miscellaneous cuts and scrapes, but they let him go this evening around 8 pm. He's not allowed to go to work or school for a week, and he has to have someone around him at all times, and he's got some medicine to take— but he's alive.

Our truck is totaled, so it looks like we'll have to buy a car ASAP. It's going to be even harder for Adam to balance work and school as he tries to heal and rest.

But I'm not a widow today, and I thank God, I thank Almighty God, for keeping me from that.

Going To the Doctor...In Mexico?

Wow-- this never, ever occured to me, but apparently a new trend in today's downtrodden economy is to travel abroad for medical care. Like... what? Are we Americans that pathetic, that we have to drive or fly to foreign countries to go to the doctor?

On the other hand... hrm. I know this article says that quality of care could be an issue, but still...it's a thought. Maybe I could plan a check-up while Adam and I are honeymooning in Europe?

How To Get a Free Book

Behold, the great Money Saver, Philosophy Walker!

Here is my magical spell for how I obtained a textbook for Adam's class for FREE:

Original list price of Illuminating Social Life: $44.95

Amazon price (new): $36.40

Amazon price (used copy): $29.65

Now, when I purchased that used book, I had a few tricks up my sleeve:

Price: $29.65

-$20.00 (Amazon gift certificate that I earned doing surveys for Valued Opinions)

= $13.64

-13.64 (in my Amazon Payments account, obtained by doing work on MTurk)

= $0

Yes, I just bought a book that was originally $44.95 for zero dollars. I JUST SAVED ALMOST FORTY-FIVE BUCKS. And because of SuperSaver shipping, I didn't even pay for postage!

I am the Queen of Savings. FEAR ME, MINIONS!

New Apartment!

I haven't updated in about a day and a half, mostly because...

We moved in to our new apartment yesterday!

It's a one-bedroom in Austintown-- well, technically, the address is in Youngstown, but it's right on the West Side, making it pretty much in Austintown. We have a living room, a little wallpapered dining room area, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom. There is air-conditioning, a big window in the living room, a dishwasher, a brand-new gas stove/oven, a garbage disposal, and a fancy showerhead. We also have four closets: one in the foyer, one in the living room, and two in the bedroom. There's also a pool out back!

And all this for $395/month. That price even includes ALL utilities except electric, so our water, gas, heating, air conditioning, and sewage are all paid for us, and we just pay for stuff we plug in.

I got so excited when we got to put our names on our mailbox and on our door buzzer. We're the only family with two names on the nameplate ("McCluskey/Walker"), which made me feel even happier, somehow.

I also love puttering around the place: tidying up, watching TV (we only get two channels, and those are kind of fuzzy, but we can watch DVDs, so I've been rewatching the second season of The O.C.), cleaning up the kitchen, making Adam's lunch. I even baked a cake last night, and Adam cooked a splendid dinner of seasoned chicken, corn, and pirogies. He even made me a crantini to sip! I love that I'm marrying a man who is clean, helpful, and a wonderful cook...he even did all of the dishes after he made dinner! I mean, really, he's like a demigod or something.

I took a run around the neighborhood this afternoon, and it looks like a lovely place-- lots of young families with children, and we're also within walking distance of the Austintown library, which means 1) wireless access, and 2) lots of books/magazines/DVDs whenever I want them!

I'm just so very happy. It feels like we're really a little family now, what with our apartment and our soon-to-be shared bank account and our kitty (soon to be kitties, plural, once we kidnap one of the newborn babies in Adam's garage). I expected to feel, I don't know, a little weird about being so young and so settled down, but it really feels wonderful, to tell you the honest truth.

So now I'm back at my parents house for most of the weekend, as Adam has to work tonight, Saturday, and Sunday. I'll put up some pictures early next week for you guys, I promise!

:(

I'm starting to get fairly depressed about this whole no-job deal. I just had to turn down an AWESOME internship in Cleveland that entailed working for Church Life (the magazine/newsletter of the Episcopal Church) for $15/hr. I love writing! I love journalism! I love the Episcopal Church! My transportation to Cleveland (which is about an hour north of my town) decided to move to Brazil this summer, though, so that didn't work out. It was one of the saddest things I've ever done, turning that job down.

I keep applyng for writing assignments that I've found at Freelance Writing Jobs, a website that my mother helpfully passed on to me. The problem is that, while there are few people in this world who can write well, there are many people who want  to write professionally, and while this doesn't necessarily narrow my chances of being a successful writer in the long run, it most definitely means that the good writing gigs are often flooded with a million applications by the time they're posted on the above website. I think the trick is to wait until the site's daily digest of jobs is released and then apply to all of them as quickly as possible, but for someone like me who has a friggin' LIFE (as well as a student job, as low-paying as it might be), it's not always possible to stare determinedly at the computer all day and refresh the screen every five minutes.

Will someone please give me a job? Or at least start paying me to play Guitar Hero?

Journalism Opportunity?

I'm totally entering this contest-- it's a competition sponsored jointly by MySpace and MSNBC to choose two "citizen journalists" to report at the Democratic Convention in Denver! You have to make a video and put it on your MySpace account (which might mean I'll have to reactivate mine, even though I created it for the sole purpose of monitoring my 14-year-old sister's activities) and then they choose five finalists. Then the MySpace population apparently chooses the final two, which sucks since most people seem to vote on the basis of 1) who looks dumber, and 2) who looks hotter, and I have a feeling I'd lose on both those counts.

But anyways, I'm gonna do it, and I thought some of you might be interested. I'm thinking in particular of Jaime and Maya, but of course, everyone who wants to should give it a shot!

Bah.

I have sent out approximately ten applications for freelance writing gigs. I have received zero responses. Not even a "thanks for applying" rejection letter.

I searched for jobs yesterday in the Vindicator, to no avail. Apparently the only jobs that exist in Youngstown A) require Masters degress, or B) involve unskilled hard labor. I have the qualifications for neither of these categories.

Adam keeps telling me to calm down, learn to drive, and take a job at the paper. And we did go and get my new permit packet yesterday, so that's a start. But I hate the idea of waiting a few weeks to become employed. I could be making money NOW! That's what Adam is doing at the moment, actually-- today was his first day back at Exal, otherwise known as the Evil Aluminum Can Factory of Death. But while I hate his job, and I worry about him getting hurt, I can't go and criticize, because it's a job, and that's a rare bird around here.

Someone employ me. Now. Please please please?

Apartments!

Adam and I are apartment hunting, and let me tell you, if you thought it's a hard process in New York City, you ought to try living where no one ever needs an apartment because no one ever leaves their family's ancestral house. At least in NYC, demand dictates that some apartments will EXIST.

The $350/mo. Columbiana apartment that Adam thought he spotted appears to have been a mirage, so we're looking a little closer to (my) home now. We found a couple for $450 and one for $425, all in Boardman, and today Adam bought a Vindicator and found a duplex in Struthers (the town where my parents' house is located) for only $400, utilities included. I like the thought of a duplex, because when I was little we lived in duplexes a lot, and they were so much more like real houses than the dirty Miami apartment buildings we'd lived in when I was a toddler. I mean, with a duplex we'd have an actual YARD, and maybe some flowers or something.

Still, we need to find out what kinds of things are included. Electric? Water? Gas? What kind of heating is installed? And can I bring my cat? I'll need Charlotte Bronte around if Adam's going to keep working midnights, because I get lonely in a dark house all by myself.

I'm kind of simultaneously excited and depressed by this apartment search-- excited by the idea of living on my own with Adam, of starting this new little two-person family (no children, at least not until we're way way way older) all by ourselves, but depressed by the fact that no matter how you look at it, I'm living in Ohio again, which I SWORE would never happen. I mean, I know I just have to suck up my pride and get over it, but it's a bitter pill to swallow sometimes.

Selling My Literary Soul...For fifteen dollars

So I now have three (very pathetic) sources of income:

1. My check from Chapters, where I stopped working on Sunday so I could concentrate on the journalism career;
2. My transcription job for my dear friend, at which I need to be working harder, because I've been totally slacking, and;
3. My $15/article job writing for the lameness that is eHow.

Today, as I slaved over an article entitled "How to Knit an iPod Case," I suddenly felt like the stupidest, lamest, biggest sell-out/ burn-out EVER. I went to UWC of the American West for two years, took my IB Diploma, studied literature at Vassar College, and got distinction on my senior thesis, and what has that prepared me for? A career in telling people how to knit novelty items or find apartments in Idaho or treat penis pain.

I mean, just check out this little gem I wrote, about how to become a priest. Or this one, extolling the importance of a physician's opinion in the diagnosis of Fuchs' Dystrophy? Or how about my great works on flute maintenance, or on purchasing school uniforms? How could you possibly say I'm wasting my life, if I'm contributing so seriously and completely to the literary canon?

I'm sending out poems this week, and I know every single one will be rejected, because I'm only a good poet, not a brilliant one.

I feel like a failure.

Hot Careers in Linguistics!

This is mainly for my linguistics-major friends (would you believe I actually have several of those?), but MSN listed Computational Linguist as one of its seven cool careers you've never heard of.

See, guys? Now, when people mock you for not having majored in something "practical" like business or chemistry, you can show them this article, and they'll shut right up.

And wait-- comp linguists make a "high five-figure" salary right off the bat? Clearly, I was wrong to major in English.

I'm Even More of a Loser in Japan

You know, there are a lot of bad things about being unemployed: the lack of money, the feeling of uselessness, the embarrassment of having to write "unemployed" on every form or questionnaire ever. But at least I take comfort in knowing that, since I don't have a real job, I will probably not die from overwork.

Pictures!

Just put up a few pictures from the new apartment-- and please note that there is now a coffee table in the living room, though I was too lazy to take a new picture in order to accommodate this change.

I haven't yet been able to put up a picture of the bedroom, but once we make it presentable enough, I'm sure that'll be up here, too.

More Good News...Goody, Goody.

Well, today I went to Yahoo to check my email, and I immediately noticed what looked like a picture of Youngstown on the Yahoo homepage. "What is this picture of my humble town doing on this national website?" I wondered. Then I realized that the picture was associated with a large news article: "America's Fastest-Dying Cities".

Oh, great. It seems Youngstown is actually at the head of the list. Apparently we suck more than Flint. Yeah, that Flint. The Flint, Michigan, of Roger and Me fame.

No wonder I can't find a friggin' job. There ARE no jobs here.

Job Hunting. Ish.

So the job hunt is pretty much in a coma, for now. Adam says he thinks I ought to spend time with him and with my family for a bit, and allow him to support me until September. That's very kind of him, but it makes me a little nervous not to be making some sort of contribution to our finances. I don't want to become that spoiled princess who blows all of her man's money on, I dunno, diamonds or something, and then complains when the money runs out.

I have, however, taken on a new freelance job: writing for Suite 101, a sprawling online magazine. Unlike eHow.com, they let me write about anything I want, so long as it's a good, solid, properly presented piece. My contract requires a minimum of 10 articles every 3 months, which shouldn't be too taxing, as I just published my first one today.

If anyone is interested in making some $$$ on the side, feel free to apply to Suite 101. You can write about pretty much anything, and the editors seem way nice and helpful.

Bad To The Bone

Clairelight's excellent post mentioned something rebellious she did at age ten. It reminded me of all the rebellious things I did as a kid, and how narrowly I often escaped real punishment. I wasn't a bad kid— I've just always been mature for my age, and I've always had an acute, innate hatred of injustice, so as a child these things often led me into trouble, either because I shocked adults with my insistence on doing things the right way or because I refused to do things just because grown-ups told me to. An incomplete list:

Grade: Kindergarten
Punishment: Staying after school
Infraction: Teaching the other kids about where they came from— and it didn’t involve a stork, either. I’d recently gotten a new baby sister, and between Big Sister classes, my own research at the library, and my mother’s no-nonsense approach to parenting, I’d learned that, well, when a man and a woman love each other very much…

Grade: 1st
Punishment: No recess
Infraction: Running away and hiding in the bushes outside the school. I never liked being told what to do even by my mother, so when strange people started trying to boss me around, I was so over elementary school.

Grade: 1st
Punishment: Serious teacher talk
Infraction: Having boyfriends. My teacher, disturbed by my propensity to hold hands with boys, force them to buy me gifts, and insist that they kiss my hand at recess, my teacher told me sternly that “age six is too young to have a boyfriend. Do you know what having a boyfriend even means?” When I managed to prove to her that I did in fact know what it meant, she became irate, telling me that I was forbidden to hold hands with a single boy at my desk. I responded by holding the hands of TWO boys at the same time. Needless to say, she was not amused.

Grade: 1st
Punishment: Banishment to another classroom during reading time.
Infraction: Shouting out the reading word of the day right after the teacher wrote it on the board. My school used phonics to teach reading, and so every day the teacher would write a word on the board and then we all had to sound it out with her until we could read what it said. I had learned how to read around age 3, though, so I enjoyed making my teacher angry by yelling out whatever the word was she was trying to get the other kids to learn.

Grade: 2nd
Punishment: Staying after school to clean the chalkboards
Infraction: Referring to a particularly mean teacher as “a witch.” Silly grow-ups thought I was euphemizing the word “bitch,” but no, I really thought that she was a witch. She had a crooked nose and a large wart on her cheek.

Grade: 2nd
Punishment:  Staying after school
Infraction: Refusing to sing the proper words to “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” in choir class, and instead inserting the word “girl,” as I thought it was silly to sing about being a boy if I wasn’t one. They never did get me to sing it correctly, and I proudly belted out “girl” at the spring concert that year, much to the music teacher’s chagrin.

Grade: 3rd
Punishment: A stern talking-to
Infraction: Writing an angry letter to the President. In class we were supposed to write letters to President Clinton, and I think my teacher kind of expected us to write things like “Do you like the White House?” and “You are a very nice President.” Instead, I wrote a three-page diatribe on the United States’ treatment of civil unrest in Serbia. Go figure.

Grade: 5th
Punishment: After considering suspension, the principal let me off with a demerit.
Infraction: Telling my art teacher to go f**k himself. I was the smallest kid in the entire school, and he was constantly making cracks about my height, calling me a “shrimp,” a “dwarf,” and a “midget.” Consequently, he got what he deserved, the bastard.

Do you have any stories of rebellion from your childhood? Post them here!

FINALLY

I've been here for about two hours, trying to get past the strange redirecting problems I've been having with this section. They appear to have passed for now, but I'd really like it if they never came back, and I'm not sure that's going to happen.

Anyways. I have news: I just applied at a temp agency.

I've been looking for a job for months, and there is NOTHING FOR ME HERE. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. At all. Zip, zero, nada, rien. If I knew how to lay pipe or make cars, I might be able to come up with something. As an English major whose main skill is poetry composition, I'm kind of out of luck.

When my mother proposed the temp agency, I initially balked. After all, didn't I go to Vassar to avoid low-paying, soul-sucking office work? But then I remembered that a friend of mine in NYC seems to have gotten a good job at Planned Parenthood through a temp agency, and he appears to like it just fine. And while I know the chances of becoming employed somewhere cool like Planned Parenthood are pretty low in Youngstown, I figured I'd have a better chance with a temp agency than scanning the classifieds and Monster.com every day like I've been doing since July.

So I sent in my resume and filled out an online application. In the process, I found out a lot about what makes me a good (and bad) candidate.

Pros of Philosophy: I'm pretty well educated, particularly for this area. I went to a fairly big-name school. I've already spent four years doing work-study jobs in the secretarial vein. I have references from a famous professor, the wife of a famous musician, and the PR director for a major educational institution. Everyone I've ever worked for adores me or has the good sense to pretend like they adore me. And did you know I can type 79 words/minute using only two fingers?

Cons of Philosophy: I have no specialty skills. I have very limited knowledge of specific office technology and software. I have no professional certifications. I have no professional licenses. I only know two languages, and neither of them is Spanish. I have no previous experience with law, healthcare, or manufacturing. I am teh suck.

They're going to call me soon, apparently. I told them I can't start until after the wedding. We shall see...

Let's Get Through This!

Times are tough, my friends. The Fed is saying we may face "a complete meltdown of our financial system," which in turn could herald the second Great Depression.

So what's a smart, independent 20-something to do? Despite what whiny old folks claim, it's not any easier on us because of our youthful ability to "bounce back"— and in fact, us young people often suffer during financial crises because we're too young to have built up a nest egg or emergency fund of any kind. Adam and I have some $$ in a savings account, but that's only because we just got married and people gave us presents.

Here's what we're doing to keep our heads above water:

1. Paying off debt. It seems stupid to owe other people money when there's so little money to go around, eh? We've paid off my credit card, taken a chunk out of Adam's, and paid Adam's outstanding tuition bills. We're also looking to finish off his credit card payments by the end of the year.

2. Eating at home. Eating out really adds up, and while we're big fans of restaurant dining, we've been able to come up with some fun recipes on our own. All Recipes has some really neat ideas, as does this MSN article on how to eat better and spend less.

And if you really have to eat out every once in a while, there are cheaper alternatives out there. Local restaurants are often cheaper (and better) than big chains, and you can't beat Waffle House for an awesome, inexpensive meal. Adam and I had full breakfasts there yesterday, and our total came to $9 (and that includes a generous 50% tip!). Dinner is usually the most expensive meal at any restaurant, so grab breakfast or go in the mid-afternoon and have lunch instead.

3. Getting help. There are lots of little ways you can get help from the government. After all, that's what it's there for— to help citizens in a crisis. We're applying for Ohio's Energy Assistance Program to help with out electric bills, since our yearly income doesn't exceed $24,500 for two people. And despite the fact that the DTV switch is a big ol' swindling attempt by electronics companies, we applied for our $40 government coupon and only paid $26 for our converter box and antenna. Now we get six clear channels instead of 4 fuzzy ones, AND we're all set for the 2009 switch!

4. Riding bikes. The price of gas is awfully high, but riding bikes and walking places really does help (especially when you're saddled with a gas guzzling truck like we are!) and can also contribute to weight loss. Experts even expect these high gas prices to make a direct impact on American obesity rates! I've been walking to Marc's (a store about a mile or so away) instead of asking Adam to drive me, and it's been saving us a bit of gas. Plus I can ride my bike to the bank or the post office whenever I need to get there!

5. Clipping coupons. People mock coupon-clippers as miserly and silly, but we're saving tons of money. My parents raised 3 children on $35,000/year, and we always had a comfortable life because of coupons. My mother's frugality, combined with her almost supernatural ability to save money using double coupons, helped us to get all those little luxuries kids are so fond of— Fruit Roll-ups, juice boxes, boxes of cookies.

So Adam and I clip and save coupons from the paper, and it pays off. Yesterday, for example, we got a big bottle of Powerade (which Adam likes for work) and Wal-Mart paid us to take it. It was on sale for 88 cents, and we had a dollar-off coupon, so the store actually credited us 12 cents towards our entire grocery purchase that day. SO EXCITING!

How are YOU saving money? Comment on this page and tell us!

These Are A Few of My Favorite Things

I thought I might just share with y'all a couple good recipes from the internet that I tried out this week. Cooking at home can be really fun and satisfying, and it's usually cheaper than eating out, which is pretty important to us twenty-somethings these days!

I made these tuna melts this week, and they were excellent! Nice and cheesy— I used a ball of buffalo mozzarella instead of the grated stuff and little ciabattas instead of French bread, and it tasted delicious. I served them with baked French fries, a healthier alternative to fries soaked in veggie oil.

I made this chocolate caramel nut cheesecake for my dad's birthday on Friday, and he LOVED it. I used fun-sized Snickers bars, since they're easier to chop into little pieces. I also chopped up some extra bars to sprinkle on top of the cheesecake when it came out of the oven. Mmmmmm!

Adam and I made our own hummus a few weeks ago, and it was GREAT! It got a little clumpy in the blender, so if you have a food processor (I dare to dream!) I'd use that instead; it'll just be easier that way. It turned out wonderfully, though, even in the blender. Don't skimp on the tahini, either— some finicky reviewers on Allrecipes claim that the amount of tahini called for makes the hummus too "bitter." These are crazy people. They are liars and pickpockets and no one likes them. Do not listen to their evil untruths! Resist!

This accurately named "Lovely Linguine"makes a wonderful dish, and is particularly good when served with this garlic bread. Again, I used ciabatta instead of French bread, and I felt it was a good choice.

Anyone else have any good recipes they'd like to share? Post a link in the comment box below!

Cheap is a Lifestyle!

In light of the news that Sarah Palin's wardrobe costs $150,000, I was interested to read Cereals' take on clothes and cost. Now, here's my own take on this situation: for me, there's not really any need to spend a large amount of money on clothes.

So many people assume that a higher cost means a higher quality product, but sometimes that's just not the case. In fact, many generic brands of food are actually just as good as name brands, contain the exact same ingredients, and are even made by the same companies. Even some discount food stores are owned by the same places that run higher-end stores; for example, my mother recently discovered that Aldi's, a discount store that sells food at cheap prices and doesn't provide grocery bags to carry your food home (better bring your own tote!) is owned by the same company that operates Trader Joe's! The two places sell the exact same food, only in different packaging.

I myself try to purchase only store-brand foods (unless I have a really good coupon, of course), and my husband and I cook up a storm of gourmet meals with these products! I also use generic medication (Sronyx or Lutera for my BCP instead of Alesse, generic Rite-Aid brand allergy meds instead of the brand name stuff, Wal-Mart brand painkillers instead of Tylenol) and I certainly haven't died yet.

This frugality certainly extends to clothing, as I only buy second-hand or on-sale clothes these days. I just don't see the rationale of paying more for the same stuff— at Goodwill I can buy Calvin Klein, Abercrombie and Fitch, even Vera Wang, if I play my cards right. And the non-designer stuff actually seems to hold up better than the "nicer" clothes do. For example, a friend of mine decided to buy a $200 pair of jeans because she figured they'd last her forever and a day; six months later, they were covered in holes. I, on the other hand, am still wearing jeans that I purchased from the Salvation Army in sixth grade.

Take a look at what I'm wearing today (it's kind of hard to see since the picture is so small, but give it a try):

Brown Capri pants with cute pockets: $0 (hand-me-downs from Adam's sixteen-year-old sister, Andi)

Burgundy tank top with lace: $0 (again, a hand-me-down)

Green cloth jacket: $10 (on sale at Aeropostale)

Jet beads: $0 (handed down from my great-grandmother, who wore them in the 1920s)

Every single day, I wear an outfit that, at most, cost me between $5 and $15 altogether. And I look pretty fabulous, if I do say so myself. The trick? Buy second-hand, take hand-me-downs, go to garage sales, and get creative! I think clothes are so much more fun when you really have to use your imagination to make them look nice.

Honestly, I feel like a lot of the appeal of brand-name products is emotional— a lot of people are afraid of "feeling poor" so they actually want to be able to spend more on everyday things. The other day Adam wanted to make lasagna for dinner, but we didn't have all the ingredients we needed in the house and we really didn't need to be running out and buying some more stuff. I said, "Why don't we just eat Mac and Cheese for dinner? We like Mac and Cheese." And Adam looks at me and goes, "Oh, c'mon, we're not that poor."

I said, "Yes, Adam, we are. We have a combined household income of $24,000/year. WE ARE POOR."

And he said, "Well, we don't have to act poor."

What exactly is so frightening about saving money and being frugal? I'll never understand it— but then again, I've never had a lot of money, and I suppose once you've grown up with something it doesn't tend to frighten you as much. I'm not afraid of being poor.

Joan of Arc was a peasant. J.K. Rowling was a starving single mother. Jesus depended on his followers for food and shelter. Poverty isn't a judgment on your intelligence or your work ethic or your capabilities; there are plenty of stupid, lazy, incompetent millionaires out there (Paris Hilton, anyone?). So don't be afraid to look for a bargain; now is a time of great economic trouble and hardship, so you better believe everyone else will be looking for one, too.

Anyone Have A Good Pumpkin Recipe?

I have a can of pumpkin. Hooray!

My mother gave it to me two weeks ago as part of her not-so-subtle attempts to help us out as the economy sides ever downward into the pit of despair and our $20,000/year goes increasingly towards gas/costly food/dental word/phone and utility bills/Adam's schooling. She also gave us cans of tuna ("Oh, it was on sale, so I bought a whole bunch, and I gave some to the food pantry but I just have so many of these, so I figured you might take them off my hands...") and bread flour ("Well I got it in bulk and I can't possibly use it all, so you might be able to help me get rid of it..."). If you've never met my mother, imagine a cross between a young version of Mon Mothma from Star Wars and a totally hot version of Jeanne d'Arc. Obviously, she is a very loving, kind, caring, and helpful mother. A mother who gives me pumpkin!

Anyways, so now I have this pumpkin and while I'm excited (PUMPKIN!!!) I don't really know what I could do with it. I like this recipe, but I'm not really sure about it, because it seems like it might come out a little bland. I need a simple recipe, an easy recipe— a miracle pumpkin recipe.

Does anyone out there have any recipes or suggestions?

(And you will all be very proud to see that I managed not to write "punkin" even once during this post, even though that's how I totally love writing it and saying it. Maybe I'm finally growing up?)

Interview!

So today was my interview and test administration for Office Team, a division of Robert Half International. It was at 8:30 in the morning, and up until then I'd had the kind of start to my day that makes one want to crawl back into bed again. First, I put on my nice pinstriped pants and actually BROKE THEM. The clasp came completely off and I couldn't fasten them closed. Wow, that's a real great self-esteem booster, eh? It makes me feel so good about my body when my butt actually causes my pants to KERSPLODE. Then I accidentally dropped my flash drive in my coffee, thereby ruining it forever. And finally, I couldn't find my black flats, so I had to wear my open-toed heels, and my feet froze.

By the time I got to the office I was understandably kind of miffed...so of course what I really wanted to deal with were stupid forms and stupid questions. Why does every single employment form ask you to list your previous occupations, job titles, and bosses' names and phone numbers when the prospective employer is ALSO asking for your resume, which already contains all of that information?! And then there were the annoying tax forms, which kind of caught me off guard, as this year will be my first time filing jointly and Adam and I hadn't yet talked about how this was going to work.

But then, after the stupid forms, there were tests, and those made me feel better, because...well, I'm not exactly an experienced secretary, but I'm smart, so the tests were easy to figure out. There were six of them: a "general office skills" test, an Excel test, a Word test, two data entry tests (one numeric and another alphanumeric), and a typing test.

General skills was the best test EVERRRRRRR. It was so simple: "If you need to purchase five reams of paper at $4.25 each, and two staplers at $2.75 each, and you have eighty dollars from petty cash, how much money will you need to return to petty cash after the purchase?" And then there were the awesome behavioral questions. "What is the best way to deal with an angry customer who is shouting at you?" Hrm...could it be "B.) Listen politely without interrupting"?

The Excel and Word ones threw me for a loop at first, because I had to use them on a PC and I've hardly ever touched anything other than a Mac since I was nine years old. But after awhile I got the hang of it. Data entry was simple, although it kind of made my eyes start to cross.

The only bad part was typing. Usually I'm at 70 WPM, but the paragraph I was assigned to type was very poorly written, so I spent a lot of time wondering if I was meant to fix the poor writing as I typed or if I was supposed to leave it be, so that I slowed down considerably and only got 51 WPM. BOOOOOOOOO.

But in the end, the woman who interviewed me was very nice, and said very nice things about me and my mad skillz, yo. She told me that it's actually a good thing that I'm moving in nine months and won't be looking for permanent employment, because most of the people at the agency are looking for permanent jobs and so the more temporary jobs (the ones that last only three weeks or a couple months or even just a couple days) will go straight to ME!

So I'm waiting for them to call me, which she said would probably happen early next week. Huzzah! I can't wait to have a real job. And the Barron's stuff is going well, and everything else is going well, and I'm so much more optimistic about my career than I was a few months ago.

Cool Things

Besides the Vassar/Barron's commission, several awesome occurrences have transpired in my career this week:

1. PNN started paying me more cash monies! Yay for PNN! Thanks, everybody!

2. I got an email from a NY-based company's CEO who happened to read some of my Suite 101 articles on wedding etiquette and planning. He wants to me do a product review, because I'm, like, totally the face of modern wedding planning or whatever. Huzzah!

3. I have a REAL JOB INTERVIEW! The temp agency called this week and wants me to come in for an interview, several typing/computer tests, and a skills review. They think they might have something for me! I was supposed to go yesterday, but I was sick as a dog and couldn't possibly make it, so I rescheduled for tomorrow. And I get to wear my pinstriped business suit and bring my professional folder with my resume and my writing samples and everything! I smell a part-time secretarial job...

4. A guy from a Cleveland-based design company spoke with my former boss, Susan, who told him I'm "VERY impressive", so he asked me to send him my resume, so that he has me on file for any future writing gigs!

So, like, I really did become a writer when I grew up. Wow.

With A Little Help From The Internet

I'm gonna go all youth-culture on y'all and just say: this economy, like, totally bites.

Things haven't been easy for us— Adam still makes peanuts at the factory, and now we're going to have to pay for 1) his tuition, 2) Christmas gifts, and 3) his application stuff (app fees, the $140 GRE fee, etc). And I still can't seem to get a nine-to-fiver. It could be worse: Adam had heard his factory was closing a line and was slowing production, but apparently (according to the local news) they're planning to build a new plant instead, so we're thinking he probably won't be laid off quite yet. Still, things aren't a barrel of laughs over here in Depressionville, Ohio, where the local GM plant just cut 1,200 jobs.

So I thought I might share a couple of my money-saving/earning tips and tricks:

1. You can get lots of free stuff on the internet just for being an interested consumer. Check out Smart Sampling to get free sample-size products delivered to your door; they also have some really great coupons there! If you've got a little bit more time to expend, you could always get rewards from online survey sites like Harris Poll, Valued Opinions, or Epoll. They'll give you gift certificates or free stuff just for filling out surveys about your shopping habits, political views, or personal preferences. For example, I've got a coupon for a free pint of Haagen-Daz ice cream coming from Epoll, and soon I'll have a gift certificate for Amazon.com from Harris Poll!

2. Comparison shopping is usually the best way to find a sweet deal. I usually use Google Shopping to compare big-ticket items, like the X-Box I'm going to get my husband for Christmas. And Gas Buddy can help you find the best price on gas in your area!

3. Of course, making some spare cash is always helpful to your economic situation, particularly during the holidays. Why not try your hand at writing?

I write for Demand Studios, where they'll pay for lots of different freelance projects: films, transcription, copyediting, and some other stuff. You don't have to be the best writer in the entire world— you just have to be able to write clearly and concisely. They really like it when people who have experience in a particular field try their hand at a couple how-to articles, and they pay $15 per article, so it's a pretty good deal.

I also write for Suite 101, a little online magazine that allows you to accumulate royalties from the stuff you put out there. You only have to write ten articles every three months, so it's totally easy to maintain even on a busy schedule.

What websites do you use to save or make money!

Let the Festivities Begin!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's snowing!

Holiday fever is sweeping Northeastern Ohio, that's for sure. Maybe it's the snow that fell yesterday, or maybe it's the anticipation of how much more challenging it'll be to pull it all off this year. Maybe it's even the fact that the holidays will have to be simpler this year, less frenzied and consumerist, since we all have less financial wiggle room now than we did last year. I don't know what the cause is, but I've heard several people comment that they're more excited about the holidays now than they've ever been since they were children.

I know I'm excited, because...I made Buckeyes!

Buckeyes are a delicious peanut butter and chocolate candy that resemble (and are named after) the symbol of the state of Ohio— the Buckeye nut! They're a Christmas tradition here, and so easy to make:

Mix 1 1/2 cups of peanut butter (you're supposed to use creamy PB, but I use crunchy because I like big chunks of peanut in my candy!), 1 stick of softened butter, 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract, and 4 cups of powdered sugar (sift it first!) together, then roll that dough into little balls and put the balls on a plate covered with wax paper in the fridge. Melt a pack of chocolate chips in the microwave until the chocolate is smooth and liquid, then get out the balls, dip them in the melted chocolate, and put them back in the fridge to harden up. And voilà! You've made buckeyes.

I've made out my list of presents, and for the first time ever, I already have gift ideas for everyone on my list! In fact, I have too many gift ideas for some people...I don't know how I'll decide. :P

I love buying gifts, and I love getting them. Ooooooh, holidays are fun!

Makin' Stuff

To keep costs down, Adam and I are making things for Christmas gifts this year! Well, we're buying some of the gifts, but my mom and dad said they don't want/need any more bric-a-brac this year, so we're making them some stuff.

For my mom: homemade granola. She loves to eat granola in vanilla yogurt. For my dad: homemade almond roca!

Anyone else making stuff this year?

Worse News

Adam was laid off today.

Here's the best part: know what Exal gave us as a parting gift? A $25 gift certificate to Giant Eagle. THANKS, GUYS.

I am hereby officially refusing to buy aluminum cans. If they had laid him off in a genteel fashion, with plenty of notice, I wouldn't be as angry. But they PUT OUT NEWS REPORTS claiming that they were doing well and that they were not going to lay anyone off, although they said they were being "cautious". THEY TOLD US THEY WERE FINE. They apparently felt that having a good image in the community was more important than being honest with their workers. And now they've lied, without giving us any time to change course or make other arrangements.

Dear Exal Corp.: I swear, with God as my witness, that if the opportunity to screw you over presents itself anytime in the future, I will most gladly do so. If I am ever in a position of power wherein I can deny you a loan, or make you look bad, or severely curtail your business, I will do so with infinite pleasure. You have PISSED ME OFF, and that is NEVER A GOOD IDEA, because I am smart and well educated and AWESOME.

With God as my witness, I'll never help Exal again.

The Silicon Valley of Death

Check out this awesome NPR piece about Youngstown's business incubator. Apparently we're the "Silicon Valley of the Rustbelt"?

What's funny, though, is that the president of the incubator is somehow trying to tempt successful people who left Youngstown back to the area. "We’re going to be working very hard to get them all to move 'home'," he said. And I thought, gee, it'll take more than a few successful businesses to get me to move back here for real. It might take less small-mindedness and more diversity. It might take a better outlook for my career niche and better schools for my future son or daughter. And maybe, it'd take a decent Thai restaurant.

GRE, Revisited

I thought my interaction with the GRE was over after I took it my senior year of college. As it stands, however, Adam is signed up to take it in February. Oh, the GRE: 140 dollars and 4 hours of pointless misery.

When I took it, I had an awesome GRE program my parents bought for me. A year and negative one job later, we can't afford an Amazing Super Secret Platinum GRE Study Guide.

So my question is: do any of you happen to know of an awesome free GRE study guide or website? What tips do you have for Adam on taking the GRE?

Miss Manners Is My Hero

Many of you know I'm a huge fan of Judith Martin (aka Miss Manners), particularly when it comes to wedding etiquette. Her snarky wit and sensible approach to money and relationships never fails to elicit an "mm-hmm, preach it!" from me.

This recent column from Miss Manners is as close to perfect advice as you can get. She discusses why it's wrong to live beyond your means by making other people pay for things for you.

Read the column, and absorb the info carefully, my friends. Etiquette exists to prevent uncomfortable situations and rudeness, not to tell other people how to spend their money.

A New Year, A New Post

Happy New Year! Yay for 2009!

My New Year's Eve was GREAT! Adam and I had stumbled upon free tickets to First Night Youngstown— my mom got them for free as part of some local grocery coupon thing, and she gave them to us. First Night is a series of family-oriented New Year's celebrations across the country, and Youngstown hosts one every year, despite the fact that Youngstown, as the ninth most dangerous city in the US, is not really a place you'd want to be wandering around in the dark when you're drunk.

But it was great anyways. There was ice skating at the Chevy Centre*** and a freak show at the Oakland (a guy put a nail in his head! And there were three-headed chickens!) and a pretty good band at a local art building (the band was The Zou, which I expected to dislike and ended up really enjoying).

And then we went to my parents' New Year's Eve party, and I ate more piroshki than I should have. Mmmmmm, Slovak food.

How did you celebrate?

*** For my linguist friends: why do you think Youngstown's convention center spells its name "Centre"? This is the Midwest, and we don't exactly have a large British or Irish immigrant community. Why would anyone other than myself spell "centre" like that in Ohio?

New Year's Resolutions

With Christmas now over, we look forward to New Year's, the next holiday in the long string of celebrations that mark the beginning of winter. Many people make New Year's resolutions this time of year: to stop smoking, to start being nicer to people, to finally make that phone call or appointment you've been putting off for weeks. But people often make mistakes when coming up with their New Year's resolutions; they make vows that they then are forced to break, or that aren't good for them in the first place.

Here are three resolutions NOT to make:

1. I resolve to lose X pounds this year.

Losing weight is one of the top goals that people set for the New Year, but really, setting a blanket poundage goal is not how you should approach fitness. For one thing, saying you'll lose a certain number of pounds makes weighing less seem like the goal, when really, living healthier is what you'll want to do. For another, it minimizes any progress you DO make that doesn't actually reach the goal you set; for example, if you said you wanted to lose 20 pounds and you only lost 8, you'd see that as a failure, when in fact it's great that you managed to take off those eight pounds at all!

If healthy living and fitness are your goals this year, try this article, which has some great tips on how to gently and healthily shed excess weight.

2. I resolve to quit smoking on the first of the year.

Quitting nicotine is tough. You may think you can handle it mentally, but nicotine withdrawal is physical, too. My friend's mom quit smoking cold turkey and had to lie in bed vomiting for two weeks straight.

It's admirable to try and stop smoking, but it's not a smart idea to try and quit suddenly without any aid. If you want to stop smoking this year, make sure you're prepared— stock up on nicotine aids (patches, gums, etc.) and get help from your doctor or from Smokefree.gov, the government’s free website that can help you quit smoking more easily and more effectively.

3. I resolve to be nicer/ be better/ do more nice things for people.

That’s the right mentality, but you need to have specific goals for this sort of thing. If your goal is just to be “nicer”, how will you know when you’ve reached it? It's easy to say you want to be a better person, but actually coming up with doable strategies for accomplishing that can be tough. Instead of a generic resolution, think of specific things you’ll do: “I resolve to do volunteer work twice a month,” “I resolve to let my husband pick what we watch on TV at least three days out of the week,” “I resolve to smile at one stranger every day.” Specific goals like this can actually be reached, and they give you a tangible result for which to shoot!

My own personal resolutions this year will be as follows:

1. I resolve to volunteer to do the dishes whenever Adam cooks, instead of making him do them himself;

2. I resolve to spend at least an hour per week working on my poetry;

3. I resolve to restrict myself to three games of Scramble per day.

What are YOUR resolutions this year?

Pets Are Awesome

Here's an action I endorse for all twenty-somethings everywhere: getting a pet.

If you're in your twenties and you don't have a pet, I HIGHLY recommend getting one. They can be therapeutic, make good company, and frequently provide a conversation topic for visitors.

I always had pets growing up, but Charlotte Brontë, the first cat I ever owned myself, came to me because of a therapist's recommendation. I have OCD, and my therapist suggested that many patients find animals to be calming influences in their lives. Cats are good for OCD sufferers, because they're cleaner than dogs and have a better sense of time. So I took Charlotte Brontë from her place as runt-of-the-litter in my then-boyfriend's garage, and made her my own.

Caring for pets has been linked in an Australian study to better physical and mental health: subjects with pets often had fewer visits to a doctor, more physical activity, and less loneliness. As twenty-somethings are often without health insurance coverage (since many college grads fail to find jobs with benefits straight out of college), this can be especially important. And as twenty-somethings experience increased levels of mental health issues, pets can help us with the emotional problems associated with this period in life.

A few things to keep in mind:

1. Even if you don't live alone, getting a pet can be a great experience. As long as your roommates/boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse/parents don't/doesn't have any objections, getting a pet can actually make you closer. Who doesn't bond over playing with a cuddly kitten? If someone objects to the idea of a pet, you can always volunteer at an animal shelter— then, you can experience the joy of playing with and caring for animals without bringing them into your home!

2. Living in an apartment doesn't automatically mean that no pets are allowed. Some complexes allow small pets (hamsters, gerbils, mice, etc.) and some allow pets that don't have to be let outside, like cats. Some even permit small dogs! In some apartment buildings, you have to pay a pet deposit if you want to bring in an animal; in my place, we paid $250 for a cat. Other places require a monthly fee, usually an extra $15 or $20 per month. Just call your apartment's office and ask!

And y'know, while I don't publically endorse lying to your supervisor or doing anything against the rules, I'm going to merely observe that oftentimes no one will notice if you have a small pet in your apartment. Cats are particularly good for hiding, as their accessories (litter boxes, food) can be placed in discrete areas, and because cats tend to hide when strangers (like maintenance workers) enter the place.

Just sayin'— I kept Charlotte Brontë at Vassar for about two months, and no one ever called me on it, even though it was decidedly against the rules. Guys from maintenance even saw her there, and they just winked at me and "forgot" to tell the administration.

3. If you're allergic to cat and dog dander, you can still have one— just like the Obamas! While "hypoallergenic" cats and dogs don't technically exist (as there will always be a slight risk of allergic reaction with any amount of cat or dog fur), there are some cats and dogs that are far less likely to trip your allergies than others. And there are things you can do— bathe your pet regularly, vacuum your house frequently, keep clothes and sheets washed and cleaned— that can reduce allergy risks.

I myself am slightly allergic to cats, but it doesn't bother me. For one thing, being around a cat for a while has dampened that allergic reaction for me, so that I don't even notice it anymore. For another, I take antihistamines regularly anyways, since I'm also allergic to, like, the entire world, so that helps keep me from sneezing. I'm a little sniffly in the morning sometimes, but it's well worth it.

If you just can't keep a cat or a dog, or you'd like something a little more low-maintenance, there are plenty of fun pets you can still have! My sister has a bunny named Dwight; he lives in a cage and eats food and doesn't need more that your occasional cage cleaning, but he's also fun to play with when you take him out for a while. I had a lovely dwarf hamster named Ampersand for a few months (and Claire had the tiny and wonderful Dash) and he was very sweet and friendly, and loved to come out and play. Turtles and lizards make fun pets, as do birds, mice, rats, and, I am told, ferrets.

Don't underestimate fish, either. There's a reason little kids get so attached to their goldfish. Fish are cool to watch, very low maintenance, and act as living art! Watching them swim can be very relaxing, and having them follow your finger along the glass of the tank can entertain even a weary adult!

Pets, like children, aren't for everyone— but if you haven't given a thought to keeping a pet, why not at least consider it?

EDIT: Oh, and also: photo credit goes to Claire, who took this picture of Charlotte Brontë living illegally in our TA (Town Apartment, for those of you not familiar with Vassar lingo) and captioned it por moi. I forgot to credit it the first time around. Sorry, Claire.

Twenty-three going on fifty

Guess what?

I'm taking my driving test next week. WHOA.

I feel about fifteen years old right now, what with taking my test for the first time, and somehow the woman at the driver exam station made me feel fifty today. I called to schedule the test, and after asking what my name was, she inquired, "And how old are you?"

"Twenty-three," I replied.

There was a very pregnant pause.

""Um...okay," she said hesitantly. "And what's your social security number?"

I told her the first few digits, and she interrupted me with an exclamation of confusion. After I repeated myself, she laughed and said, "Wow, I never have one of those. Most of the kids who come in here are the same age, so they all have the same first three digits of their social, and I'm used to typing those numbers in."

So apparently, I am an old woman.

Selling Your Body...But Not Like That

With the economy in turmoil and more and more people finding themselves jobless, some folks have resorted to extreme measures: signing over their bodies to medical experiments and selling their plasma and reproductive cells.

Egg donation is something I've considered before, and now seems like it would be a great time to do it. I could get $10,000-15,000 for my eggs, especially considering I've got a high IQ, I'm a college graduate, I come from an academic family with no major history of cancer, and I can sing, play multiple musical instruments, and write fairly well. The OCD thing might be a turn-off, but if I can establish it as not being entirely genetic somehow, I think I'd be okay.

And I wouldn't have a problem with a dozen little genetically-related chillens running around out there. As far as I'm concerned, I'd have nothing to do with any of those kids; if I didn't raise a baby, then I'm not its mother. No worries about that, although my mom says it would bother her to think that she had "grandchildren" out there somewhere.

What would bother ME is this:

Stimulating egg production: In a normal menstrual cycle, one egg matures and, at ovulation, is released from an egg-containing sac (called a follicle) on the ovary. In egg donation, the goal is to obtain several mature eggs. You will be prescribed medication to stimulate your ovaries to mature more eggs than normal (called "controlled hyperstimulation"). The medications are similar to the hormones that your body produces, but at much higher doses. These medications must be injected (either under your skin or into a muscle). Treatment will start on a specific day of your cycle and continue for about ten days. You will be shown how to inject the medications. If you are unable to inject yourself reliably, you will need someone else to do it for you.

The risks: You may develop soreness, redness or mild bruising around the injection site. You may experience mood swings, tender breasts, enlarged ovaries and mild fluid retention. Occasionally, the medications cause more hyperstimulation than intended (known as "ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome," or OHSS). This will cause fluid retention and swelling of the ovaries. In mild OHSS, you may have abdominal pain, pressure and swelling. This should go away after your next period. In moderate OHSS, you may require careful monitoring, bed rest and pain medication. Severe OHSS is rare but can cause serious medical complications, including blood clots, kidney failure, fluid build-up in the lungs, and shock. In rare cases, hospitalization is necessary and the condition can be life-threatening. One or both of your ovaries may have to be removed. The risk of OHSS decreases after the eggs are retrieved.

If you show signs of OHSS before the eggs are ready to be retrieved, the doctor may decide that it is too risky for you to keep taking the hormones. You must stop using the medication and the cycle will be canceled.

If you decide, for some reason, not to undergo egg retrieval after having completed fertility drugs, you increase your risk of OHSS. Very rarely, an enlarged ovary will twist on its stalk and cut off its blood supply. This painful condition requires immediate surgery and the ovary may have to be removed. Also, very rarely, a woman has an allergic reaction to fertility drugs.

You can become pregnant during the cycle, if you have unprotected intercourse. This could occur if some of the eggs are released before retrieval, or if the doctor is unable to retrieve all of the mature eggs. There is a chance that you could become pregnant with twins, triplets or quadruplets. You must abstain from intercourse or use effective barrier contraception. Ask the doctor about restrictions on intercourse during the donation cycle.

The long-term risks of fertility drugs are unknown. A few studies suggest that fertility drugs might increase a woman's risk for developing ovarian cancer later in life. Others do not show this link. At this time, no one knows for sure.

So...ew. We'll see. Maybe I'll just start with plasma and then work my way up?

Minty Fresh!

Here's something cool: Mint, a free online personal finance application that helps you keep track of your net worth, your budget, your spending habits, and your debt situation.

I find it handy to use the budgeting and spending tools; it's kind of cool to be able to have my computer tell me instantly how my spending has changed over time. For instance, it was reassuring to see how, due to my new job, we have begun to officially build up our net worth again, and to realize again how solid our savings account makes our finances seem.

The only thing that depresses me a little bit is that we don't have any investments, so we can't use the cool investment tracking thingy. Oh, well. Maybe in ten years or so.

Some people might be freaked out about the fact that Mint connects itself to your bank and credit accounts, so you have to give it your passwords for your online banking stuff. But don't worry— it's VeriSign secure and TrustE certified, so if you buy things on the internet anyways, this is really no different, at least in terms of security.

It's a pretty fun little device, actually, and I think it'll help us to identify things that we could cut out of our budget entirely. Check it out!

Cost-Benefit Anaylsis

WARNING: This post contains girl stuff. Y'know, like discussions of periods and vaginas and things like that. Do not read this if you feel uncomfotable discussing the female body.

This article in the New York Times Magazine today had me worried, indeed. It discussed the health concerns that have been popping up over Yaz, the popular low-dose birth control pill that holds the majority of the oral contraceptive market share.

I don't use Yaz, but a LOT of my friends do, and not always for the reasons you'd think. A few use it for acne, for example, or to regulate their cycles, and of course, it doesn't hurt that it prevents pregnancy, either. But I wonder how many doctors are prescribing birth control without really thinking about the consequences.

What makes me wonder this is my younger sister, who, about a year or two back, went to the gyno for a routine check-up. After the awkward breast exam and the unpleasant pap smear (ewwww, does anyone NOT hate that?), her doctor asked if there was anything unusual about her periods. Well, no, she said, but her periods were kind of heavy, which was annoying.

Her doctor's response? Take some birth control pills.

Now, first of all, as many of you may recall, my sister is a lesbian. She's not really in any serious danger of getting pregnant by accident. Ever. So the contraceptive aspect isn't a boon to her. She's not a zit-covered teen, either— she's a twenty-year-old college student, so it's not like she needs acne help. The only reason her doctor wanted her to begin using synthetic hormones was...well...she had slightly heavy periods.

Now, I used to have heavy periods, so I know how annoying they are. I know how irritating it can be to go through a pack of pads or tampons in two days. But really— is it worth the side effects? Is it worth the risk of cardiovascular disease, however small that risk may be? Does my sister really need to put more pharmaceutical products into her blood stream just because her period is a drag?

She told me what had happened, and asked me, point-blank, what I thought she should do. And I told her that, honestly, I didn't think she should do it. I'm on the pill, and that's because I don't want to have a baby. A baby is a major life disruption, and I'd like to avoid that. Heavy periods are just kind of a pain in the butt.

I also told her about the symptoms I have on birth control: weight fluctuation, violent mood swings, crying spells, pain in my abdomen during ovulation. Then I told her about the side effects I had on the birth control pills to which I had bad reactions: the bloating, the sudden weight gain (and then sudden weight loss), the way my hair fell out, the way I was angry all the time. Is that worth that? Is a lighter period, or no period, worth all the added problems?

I'm wondering whether or not we're becoming an overmedicated country— whether or not we're trying to solve our problems with pills. Now, most drugs are very useful, and can improve and save lives— there's no doubt, for example, that anti-depressants can give people their lives back, and can help treat very serious medical conditions. But I think about the people who responded to an old post of mine (in which I expressed how sad and down I was feeling that day) with the advice to go and get some anti-depressants, and I wonder how many people are cutting off their noses to spite their faces. I've BEEN on antidepressants before— when I was still in the needing-medication phase of my OCD. Every night, I'd take that pill, and then ten minutes later I'd start to feel that stinging, stabbing pain in my stomach— the small-print side effect of Luvox, it turns out, was that it could make your stomach bleed. Who knew?

I don't need the OCD medication, anymore, and if I could get off of the pill, I would. (Actually, I might be off of it for good NOW; I couldn't make an appointment at Planned Parenthood in time to get a new pack for this next month, so we're just going to use alternative forms of contraception until my October appointment, and then hopefully I'll have a brand-new IUD!) I think medication is important in improving the quality of many people's lives, but that it shouldn't be your first choice for treating minor problems.

Who else has had crappy drug side effects?

The Little Things

I thought this was pretty cool: Drop Spots, a GPS website that encourages you to leave special or cool things in specific locations and then post directions to the locations so that other people can find them. Then, when you find the things that other have hidden, you take them and replace them with your own special things!

There are several of these spots listed here in Manhattan. And I can think of some cool things to leave— shells and lucky stones and nice pens. And it would make me feel better about passing up pennies on the sidewalks; I've stopped picking up stray pennies because people here give me dirty looks, and I feel kind of sad about it, and I think this would make me feel better.

Maybe I'll do this over the coming weekend and post the pictures afterwards.

In the meantime, please enjoy this list of other things that can make you feel happy inside.

Sugar and Spice, and Everything Nice

Dear America,

Usually, you and I get along fine. I hate your obsession with NASCAR and your hearty enjoyment of Dancing With the Stars, and you hate my liberal hippie bullshit and the way I refuse to buy things that normal people feel the need to buy, but otherwise, we’re cool. I sing along with your national anthem at baseball games, stimulate your economy with my hard work, and do my best to remain educated about your political and social issues, and you provide me with constitutional rights and a place to live (a pretty nice, rent-controlled place, now that you mention it).

But this week, we need to have an intervention. You’ve been having some problems with common decency, and we need to straighten this out before things get any more out of hand.

Let’s make this clear: being an asshole is still unacceptable. The proper way to disagree with someone is to say, “I disagree,” and then list the well-reasoned rationale for your disagreement. You can be as sharp and critical and unyielding as you like; disagreeing with someone doesn't mean you have to be prissy about it. But just because it’s 2009 does not mean that being well mannered and well bred is irrelevant.

The right way to disagree does not include shouting “YOU LIE!” and pointing your finger at people while they are speaking on national television. I’m sorry, Mr. Wilson, but even a six-year-old knows that pointing and yelling is unacceptable. Previous to the finger-pointing incident, I knew nothing about Mr. Wilson; now, the only thing I know is that he was quite possibly raised by wolves. It's not about respecting the office of the presidency— it's about respecting your fellow man, no matter who he is. Don't act like a pig, my friend.

The right way to disagree does not include telling someone that they don’t deserve the award they just won while they’re making an acceptance speech, as Kanye West did to Taylor Swift at the VMAs. First of all— dude, it’s the VMAs. It’s not really a major awards show. No one cares. Second of all, if Beyonce could be a gracious loser, why couldn’t you be a gracious…I don’t know, a gracious person-who-has-nothing-at-all-to-do-with-the-situation?

The right way to disagree is also not to threaten people while you’re playing tennis. What Serena Williams said to make her lose the match was just trashy, and it makes me sad, because Ms. Williams has always seemed like a pretty cool chick to me. Everyone makes mistakes, I guess, but man, lighten up.

In short, I think America needs to be reminded as a whole that being cruel, uncouth, out-of-control, and just plain boorish is not in any way cool, impressive, or convincing. Because, y’know, it’s not just celebrities who are doing these sorts of things— it’s the chick on the subway who elbows me in her hurry to exit the train, or the guy carrying his lunch into The Gap who yells at my husband to walk faster.

I really liked this article in the Times yesterday: it’s about how humble Americans were after V-J Day, and how it seems that the mood in America is the least narcissistic when the country’s achievements are at their peak. Can’t we try and be decent to one another? If we could do it on September 12^th, 2001, we can do it again: be nice to people you don’t know, not because it’ll make you look nice, but because it IS nice. Hold the door open for the next person. Smile and say “thank you” when your food arrives at a restaurant. Let the person behind you in line— you know, the one with the heavy bag or the fussy baby or the terrible head cold— go first.

Let’s not just be civil. Let’s be kind. I think everyone in America would be happier if they tried being nice, don’t you?

Love,

Philosophy

The Creativity Wasteland

I just had to share this with everyone who has ever lived in Youngstown, OH:

Go to this article. Now, scroll down until you see the chart entitled "Medium-Size Cities' Creativity Rankings." Now look at the city that is ranked lowest on creativity and diversity in the ENTIRE UNITED STATES.

That's right— out of all the crappy, medium-sized cities in America, the LEAST CREATIVE is Youngstown, OH. And it's not like it was a close finish, either— we lost this race by a wide margin, guys.

Even Scranton beat us soundly. Now that's pathetic.

Do you see why I had to leave Youngstown? DO YOU SEE?!

7 Things I've Discovered About NYC

Reading this article about escaping the New York tourist traps made me wonder: what sorts of things have I learned in my few weeks as a New Yorker? Is there any wisdom I can pass on to future visitors and/or residents?

Well, probably not, but I'll try anyways. Here are a few things I've learned since I moved here:

1. Public transportation exists, but you're still going to walk everywhere.

Don't get me wrong: I love the subway and the bus. I am a champion of people movers, and I hope I never have to drive another car in my life.

That said, though, New York is not Paris, with a Metro station every five feet. If you want to get between two general neighborhoods that are far away from one another (say, Harlem and Chelsea), then the subway is for you; if you want to get between two very specific places (say, 9th & 21st and Broadway & Grand), you're probably going to do a lot of walking, anyways. Public transportation is great here, but it doesn't service every area equally.

If I wanted to take the subway to work, I'd have to walk six blocks to the subway station, wait for the E train, then walk another eight to work. So I just walk the whole distance, because really, the eight minutes I save with the subway aren't worth two bucks.

2. Traffic laws/stoplights/pedestrian crossing signals mean absolutely nothing.

NOTHING. Cars will not slow down for yellow lights; cars will not use turn signals; pedestrians will walk across busy streets without even looking twice. Seriously— if you live in New York, just assume that, sooner or later, you will get hit by a taxi. It will happen. That's why I can't wait for our new insurance to kick in; I don't want to get run over BEFORE I can afford to pay the hospital bill.

3. No one hates tourists.

Seriously. I've spent a lot of time these past few weeks trying to act like I'm not a tourist— hiding my maps behind my purse, looking at printed-out Google Map pages stealthily in phone booths, keeping my voice down when I call Adam for directions. But you know what? I don't think anyone cares. New Yorkers seem to be so used to tourists that they don't mind them so much, and sometimes they even think they're cute. In fact, most of the people I've met in Manhattan are originally from somewhere else, so at one point, most Manhattanites WERE tourists, or at least new in town.

Just don't wear a fanny pack. Ewwwww.

4. Not everyone eats out constantly— some people still cook.

The only people who have ever told me that "no one cooks in New York" are either people who have never lived here or people who have just recently moved here. Everyone else cooks at least occasionally, and do you know why? I'll tell you why: Chinese takeout is delicious once or twice per week, but when you eat it every day, your body kind of starts to fall apart. Even in a small kitchen you can usually manage to fix yourself something marginally edible, and you can do it while watching TV or listening to the radio or talking to people. Like, you know, your family, whom you don't get to see during the day because you're WORKING.

5. At the same time— you can have ANYTHING delivered. ANYTHING.

Apparently, New York was designed to be a city where a person has to walk seventeen blocks to work, but somehow can't be bothered to go to the store for a quart of milk. EVERYTHING is delivered here— not just pizza or takeout, but deli stuff, and groceries, and PAINT, for goodness sakes. PAINT.

And all of this sort of makes me wonder— who has to be the paint delivery person? I mean, delivering delicious food may not pay very well, but at least you get to be around delicious food all the time. Delivering paint? Blahhhh.

6. Rich people and poor people live closer together here than in many places in America.

I live in Chelsea, a trendy neighborhood with lots of expensive apartments. Two blocks down from me— I am not making this up— is a housing project. Teen moms watch from their windows as teen millionaires shop in expensive couture boutiques.

In Ohio, poor people and rich people lived in completely different towns. With the Youngstown model, the rich live in Canfield or Poland, the social-climbing middle class live in Boardman, the contentedly lower-middle-class live in Struthers and Austintown, and the poor live in Campbell.

But here, everyone seems more mixed up together. There are nicer neighborhoods and crappier neighborhoods, but for the most part you can find fancy places and crumbling places in almost any part of Manhattan. And that's kind of positive, in a way, because that way the rich at least have to look at the poor on their way to work in the morning. Even if they're traveling to work in a private car that picked them up from their house in the Hamptons that morning.

7. Everyone has a dog. Every. Single. Person.

I figured that lots of apartments would equal lots of cats. I mean, I tend to think of cats as the natural choice for apartment dwelling: they're clean, they're quiet, they're compact, and they don't tend to drool on things. But no— everyone in Manhattan seems to have a DOG, and many of these dogs are LARGE DOGS.

They're adorable, of course, and I've enjoyed playing with them, but I mean— seriously? How are they able to be home four times a day to walk these dogs? How do the dogs get enough exercise? How do the owners not get completely sick of Dog Smell being all over their teensy weensy apartments?

Okay, fellow New Yorkers: your tips?

Jobjobjob!!!

First, I'd like to apologize for not making it to the Girls' Night Out and for not posting yesterday. A couple of days ago, I came down with a horrible cough/cold/case of the swine flu, and thus have been spending my nights hacking up a lung and gasping for air. (Thanks, asthma!) So last night I finally caved and took some cough syrup after dinner— and twenty minutes later, I was passed out on the couch. That's why I missed posting and talking last night!

But today, I come with glad tidings.

I got a JOB!!!

This afternoon, I went down to the OfficeTeam branch here in New York City to fill out some state tax forms. OfficeTeam was the temp agency I worked for in Ohio, so I knew I liked them, and I figured they might be able to get me some odd jobs until I found a permanent position. Eric, the branch manager there, told me he'd probably be calling me by next Wednesday with my first assignment.

So I get home, and then around 5 pm I get a call, and the number looks like the temp agency's number. So I answer, and it's Eric.

"Hi, Philosophy," he says. "It's not Wednesday."

"No," I answered nervously. "No, it's not."

"Are you in any way interested in a temp-to-perm job?"

Of course I was, and so tomorrow at nine, I begin my new job as an administrative assistant at a mid-town architectural firm. While I'm a temp I'll make $10/hour, but if/when they put me on salary (if they like me, that is), I'll make a salary "in the mid-30s," as Eric put it.

So Adam and I went out for Mexican food to celebrate, and now we're going to go to compline full of excitement and relief!

It's not, like, my ultimate dream job, but it's a good job, and it'll help me support us, and I won't have to work in food service or take a night shift.

So— huzzah for employment!!!

It's A Hell Of A Town

It's funny— people say New Yorkers are mean, and that's never been my experience. I mean, there are always a few rotten apples in the bunch, but I don't think people in New York are in any way rude or standoffish or anything, overall.

When I was still in school and I would go through the city on the way to returning home for the holidays (yay for Metro North!), I always had a particularly pleasant experience with people on the subway. That's right— people were NICE to me on the SUBWAY. Every single time I would drag my suitcases around down there, some lovely gentleman would come over, pick up my suitcases, ask me which train I was taking, and wordlessly transport my stuff to my destination. Afterwards, they would simply smile as I thanked them profusely.

Now that we live here, I keep having wonderful interactions with people— on the street, in the stores, in my neighborhood. My neighbors are a dream (quiet, kind, helpful), people actually engage me in conversation while standing in lines, and Adam's personable jokes and smiles are always met with reciprocal grins and banter, instead of blank stares.

Perhaps it's because people are used to people here. In Youngstown, most folks divided the world into two types of people: those they'd known since Kindergarten, and complete strangers. Outsiders were scary, and rare, too, since people don't often just up and move to the middle of nowhere. But here, everyone is a stranger. As a 24-year-old small-town girl with big dreams and starry eyes, I am the quintessential Manhattanite. This is a town built on poor, innocent young people who haven't quite figured out what they want yet, and it means that everyone is friendly towards me, or at least not particularly hostile.

People here talk to you when you want to talk to them, and leave you alone when you don't. And everyone has been so nice to us! I mean, it can't hurt that my husband is really good-looking (especially in Chelsea, the international home of the gay man), but still.

Y'know, I found the same thing was true of Paris; while I had problems with a few individual French people (and let's not forget the guy who tried to rape me in the alleyway while I was walking home), Parisians really weren't the American-haters I'd expected. If you were nice to them, they were nice to you. It seems much the same way here: if you smile, and nod, and say, "Thank you very much!" people will respond beautifully.

It could be that I'm just romanticizing my new home, but so far, I find it a very friendly place, indeed.

Fear of Laziness

Yesterday, my mom (in her infinite kindness and generosity) ordered us some food from FreshDirect, a grocery delivery company in New York. You order what you want online, and then a delivery person comes by your place on a specified date and within a specific time period and delivers all of the food directly to you. My mom found out about this through the seminary website, and it works well for moving, because this way we'll have cooking supplies delivered to us almost as soon as we get there. That means no wandering around trying desperately to find a grocery store so we can have fresh fruits and veggies; by the time we'll need groceries again, we'll have had time to stake out the local supermarkets and farmers' markets, and we won't be so confused.

But part of me still feels a little weird, having food delivered to me. I mean, what, I don't have the capacity to go and get it myself?

I've always been very into the idea that if you CAN do it yourself, you should. I think that's why I enjoy doing all that homemade stuff in the kitchen-- because it feels right to be able to bake bread instead of buy it, or to brew my own beer instead of just throwing it into my cart.

As I grow older, I find myself agreeing more and more frequently with Garrison Keillor, whose folksy essays often seemed merely quaint when I was younger. In a recent essay, “It’s time to stand up for homemade potato salad,” Keillor decries (somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but also somewhat seriously) the demise of the homemade and the do-it-yourself:

“What if Thomas Jefferson had been too busy hobnobbing to write the Declaration of Independence so he just downloaded a bunch of stuff he found Googling ‘independence’ and coming up with stuff about indolence, pendants, incontinence, but hey, close enough, and he pasted it together and they all signed it and went out to a movie? Not good.

When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the potato salad that has connected them with another, they will do it, believe me, so why insult us? Just because we're polite, do you think we can't tell the difference? Are we demented? Does this not seem self-evident to you?”

Sometimes, people are genuinely too busy to do everyday things. This has happened to me tons of times, and believe me, at those times, I appreciate the importance of the microwave meal, the express lane, the drive-thru window, the fake potato salad. But I often find that, later on, when I DO have the time to devote to doing things the real way, sometimes it’s seductively easy to just keep doing things the easy way and use that extra time for something silly, like Googling myself or watching America’s Next Top Model reruns or, yes, even playing on Facebook. And then I don't get the sense of accomplishment that often comes over me after I make the potato salad myself, after I make something delicious and useful without too much help from anyone else.

So I’m going to have to be careful with this food delivery stuff. It’s useful now, when I really can’t just go out to the store. And maybe, in the future, if Adam is in the middle of his GOEs and I’m sick with the flu and it’s negative fifteen degrees outside, I might use the delivery service again. Sometimes, shit happens.

But other times, laziness happens, and I don’t want to give it yet another foothold in my life.

Growing herbs (and I don't mean pot)

I'm really excited about growing my own herb garden this year! We're going to get a window box, and maybe keep a couple individual pots indoors (although I'll have to figure out how to keep them away from the cats). Here's the list of herbs we'd like to grow:

-Basil (for tomato and mozzarella sammichs!)

-Rosemary (I don't use it often, but Adam wants it)

-Oregano (Adam's favorite herb— he puts it in everything!)

-Thyme (Again, I don't use this often, but Adam requested it specifically, and he's the master chef, so...)

-Catnip (how much would my cats LOVE me?)

-Mint (for desserts and Mint Juleps/Mojitos)

-Stevia? Maybe? I don't know how to use the leave, exactly, but it was in the Burpee online catalogue and it sounded cool)

I've yet to understand much about herb planting, though. Should I wait until spring to plant these? Do any of them need special care? Anything in particular that I should have in the box but haven't listed here?

What can you tell me about herbs?

Flu Blues

Wait— apparently, I have to get three flu shots this year instead of just the one.

I always, always, always get a flu shot. Always. Not only do I have asthma and all sorts of lung issues (which makes being flu-ridden particularly difficult), I also get REALLY REALLY SICK whenever I fall ill. My immune system is kind of shitty (remember how you're only supposed to have Scarlet Fever once? I've had it, like, four times) and so when I get sick, I'm completely bedridden for days at a time. Yes, I am a pussy, but no, I cannot help it.

So I always go and get my flu shot, every year, without fail. When I was in college I could get the shots through the school's clinic for $8; last year I got one for only $10 at the YMCA.

Now, though, they're going to have to do the shots in three doses— one for the regular flu, and two for the swine flu.

I'm not bothered by the idea that I'd have to come back to get multiple shots, but I don't really understand how that's going to work with those flu shot booths in, like, Wal-Marts and community centers and the like. Will they just have three sessions each? And will I have to pay extra money for each shot? Will they offer the shots at the seminary (through the seminary's health plan)?

Do you get a flu shot? If so, how do you feel about getting three shots instead of one?

Just For Kids?

I just finished watching Coraline, the delightfully creepy film based on the Neil Gaiman book of the same name. I've loved that book since it was published in 2002, when my mom brought it home from some English festival or other.

What I find particularly interesting about Coraline is the amount of parental attention it has received— much like the attention given to Up, another fabulous animated movie that came out this year. Both films are wonderful in that they are interesting to both adults and children; yet both films have forced people to re-evaluate what exactly a "kids' movie" can be.

Both are rated PG, which means that there may be themes or images in the films that might frighten younger children, so it is up to the individual parent to evaluate the film before screening it for their kids. Naturally, this open-ended rating has prompted lots of parents to wonder whether or not Up is appropriate for young kids, or whether Coraline is too scary for children. (Though I have to say, the reviewer above who discussed Up lost me when she said her seven-year-old had no clue that the main characters were supposed to be married. Are you kidding me? I'd already read Jane Eyre by the time I was seven. If your kid doesn't understand the meaning of a man and a woman standing in a church and taking wedding vows in a white dress and a suit, he or she is, uh, kind of stupid. Just sayin'— maybe the problem is with the none-too-bright child, not the film. But I digress...)

The problem with either discussion is that I don't believe we have to divide everything into "kids' stuff" and "adult things." I hate that arbitrary division; it's the same division that makes people look at me like I'm crazy when I whip out my Hello Kitty thermos on hot days, and it's the same division that made adults look at me like I was crazy when I patiently tried to explain why I wanted to check out volumes of Shakespeare from the library at age nine. Not only are people different— maturity is different from seriousness, and innocence doesn't always run hand-in-hand with youth.

Thinking about the difference between kids' movies and grown-up fare brought back all sorts of memories from my own childhood. And thinking about that woman's seven-year-old, I thought about my own seven-year-old-hood, and what I knew about, what I liked and feared.

I knew about sex, for one thing. Remember that one kid in elementary school who told all the other kids the truth about where babies come from? That was me. My mom was honest and upfront with me about how my baby sister had arrived, and I didn't see any reason to be squeamish about it.

I knew about a lot of things— I knew that some of my friends didn't have dads (and that their moms had never been married to their dads, and sometimes didn't even know the dads' identities), and I knew that some of my friends had been through bad stuff (abuse and rootlessness and even war, in the case of my friend from Bosnia), and I knew about death, that every single person and animal and even potted plant is going to die eventually. Some of these things were terrifying to know, but I didn't wish that I could unknow them. I liked knowing true things— knowing a part of the life-puzzle that I felt certain I’d be able to solve completely when I grew up. (Ha!)

And then there were the stupid things that terrified me, the things that most kids don't fear. I was afraid of empty rooms; my worst fear was being locked in my bedroom with no one else there. I was afraid of E.T.— y'know, the alien from the movie— and when they tried to show us the film in elementary school I had nightmares for a week. I was afraid of thunder— not because of the noise itself, but because I feared the vibrations from the BOOM! sounds might knock down our creaky old duplex. I certainly wasn't afraid of the sorts of things I saw in Up or Coraline; I was way more terrified of E.T. than any animated dogs. How would a ratings board have known that?

Maybe we don't need to categorize movies into "kids' movies" and "adult movies." Maybe we could just rate them according to the MPAA ratings and then assume that some adults might enjoy G-rated films, and that some kids might be able to handle PG-13 movies. Maybe we could just encourage Hollywood to make movies that are interesting to people of different ages, instead of marketing them so heavily to different demographics.

Animation is a good medium for this, mostly because it seems, for whatever reason, to soften the blow of more mature material. While some older people remain resistant to animation (my 84-year-old grandmother said she hated Up, but when I quizzed her on many of the film's themes, she admitted that they hadn't occurred to her because she'd assumed that the animation meant it was a movie for children and had tuned a lot of it out), twenty-somethings are the generation that grew up with The Little Mermaid and Peter Pan and Toy Story. The first movie I ever saw in the theatre (at age three) was The Little Mermaid, an animated movie about forbidden love and disobedient kids and terrifying octopus-witches. And I utterly adored it, and begged my parents for the video version, which I watched every single day for two years. (Sometimes I traded off with Peter Pan, my other favorite film, a movie that features torture, potential drowning, romance between children, running away from home, and violent swordfights, I might add).

And now, at 24, I'm still watching animated movies— because a lot of them end up being the best movies of the year. And why not? Who says that a great movie has to be an edgy indie flick about sex? Who says it can't be a charming animated movie about an old man and his floating house?

What's your favorite "kids' movie"? Has it changed as you've grown up?

What I Can't Say

The job search is getting me down. I know there's a recession on and all, but still— it stings a little bit, to know that I'm not special enough to stand out from the resume crowd.

I just don't quite understand how I even GET a darn job. I mean, all the job postings I see want someone with years and years of experience. All the cool internships are unpaid, and I can't take an unpaid internship, because I'm supporting my husband financially.

I've tried everything— LinkedIn, the Vassar alumnae/i network, Vassar e-recruiting, Monster.com. I applied to a few last week, but I never heard anything back— not even a rejection. Do they not give you rejection letters for jobs?

Cover letters are the worst part— how do I keep from saying what I really want to express?

Dear sir/madam,

My name is Philosophy Walker, and I'd like to apply for the position of _____ with your company. I guarantee that I'm going to be one of your smarter and sassier applicants, and that I am approximately 67% less likely to make English grammar errors in my work than the rest of the stiffs who sent you their resumes.

I don't have a lot of recent experience, but that's because I just graduated from friggin' Vassar College, and then I went home to Ohio to marry a priest. So if I'm going to be penalized for being young and/or having great taste in men, that's just not fair, and I believe you need to rethink your system for choosing employees.

Despite my youth, I can promise you that I will be the best damn employee you've ever had. I'm smart, and I work harder than anyone I know, and I'm not afraid of a sixty-hour workweek, or working late, or traveling around to run errands for the office. I'm also not afraid of getting coffee for higher-ups, or doing menial tasks for very little money, or making faxes and answering phones and basically being an overqualified personal assistant for anyone at your company. I'm willing to do anything (other than sell my body) for any amount of money (other than nothing at all) and work any hours you'd like. Well, I mean, I'm a preacher's wife, so I'd LIKE to be off on Sunday mornings so I can see the hubby give some practice sermons, but hey, I can compromise.

I speak French, I'm well versed in politics, literature, and world events, and my voice is fairly pleasant (although somewhat high). I promise that I will be the greatest asset to your office, and that over the next few months, you'll gaze fondly at me from over cubicle dividers and desks and think to yourself, "I made a wonderful decision when I hired that splendid young woman."

Pinky swear.

Sincerely,

Philosophy E. Walker

I wouldn't ever send that letter, of course, but sometimes I wish I could.

Tea For Me!

My husband and I walked out of the library today with rumbling stomachs. Usually we don’t eat in restaurants (too expensive), but we happened to stroll by an apparent “English café,” and we figured we’d treat ourselves to some pub fare.

This café was genuinely English— the owners and all the staff were English, they sold imported products from the UK in a little corner shop, and all the TVs in the place either had football (REAL football, not that American crap) or the BBC playing. Adam had fish and chips and a beer, of course, but as soon as I saw they had tea service, I HAD to have tea.

And what a tea it was! A steaming white pot of black tea, complete with a pitcher of cream and a bowl of real sugar cubes, appeared on our table, accompanied by a white-and-gold china teacup with a matching saucer. Matching plates bore finger sandwiches (egg salad…yum!), grapes, a jam tart (lemon!), and two delicate petit fours. And that was the SMALL tea service— I can’t even imagine what “high tea” might have entailed!

The only time I’d ever had “tea” in the British sense before was when I was visiting London with my friend Maya while we were living in Paris; we spent Thanksgiving at a Texas-themed restaurant, eating enchiladas and drinking margaritas and feeling kind of sad that no one else was celebrating our American holiday. The next day, we went to Harrods and had cream tea— it was my first taste of clotted cream, and I couldn’t get enough.

But even in Paris, we usually had a “tea” of sorts. While it didn’t usually include actual tea, I usually had a small repast of coffee and pastries with my host family, or with my young students, or with friends. Pain au chocolat, a small cup of coffee…and for a few moments, everything slowed down and everyone relaxed.

I’m reading Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma right now, and his point about “food culture”— that America never had a definite food culture of its own, and that this has made us terribly susceptible to exploitation by food companies— hit me hard. I spent most of my high school days patiently explaining to international students that America DOES have culture, and that our culture isn’t necessarily wrapped up in Sylvester Stallone** and George W. Bush. But it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what constitutes American food culture; when I think about it, I find myself vaguely uncertain. Apple pie? Well, that’s really European, come to think of it, and to be honest, not a lot of Americans eat apple pie very frequently. Hamburgers? As often as Americans eat McDonalds, we also seem to recognize that it’s not good for us, and we're often likely to classify it as “junk food” instead of “real food.”

Sometimes I wonder if our food culture has something to do with eating on the go— in the car, on the street, in our offices. But I don’t really want that to be the case; not only does food-on-the-go sound unhealthy and uncomfortable, it also sounds kind of lonely. At the same time, I’m realistic about the time that some people are willing to put into cooking and eating dinners around the dining room table.

So I’m wondering: wouldn’t it be nice if we all started taking tea? What if, every day, you sat down for twenty minutes and drank some tea (or coffee, or water, or whatever), and ate a little sandwich, and enjoyed a bite of lemon tart? Wouldn’t it be nice if you did this with other people, either at home or at work or in a restaurant?

I think I’d like to try it out— maybe every day Adam and I could have tea together, just the two of us, at a time of our convenience. When he gets to seminary and I have a job (hopefully…), we might have to make it a weekend thing, or to move it back into the late afternoon— but it’d still be feasible.

What kinds of food traditions do you have and/or admire?

**As a side note, many French people seem to think of Sylvester Stallone as the quintessential American. On many news parody programs in France, America is represented by a Sylvester Stallone-esque puppet, cartoon, or actor, who speaks crappy French in a drawling American accent. I asked a whole lot of French people why exactly they’d fixated on Stallone (especially since he’s not really that big a deal in the US), but no one could explain it to me.

Wanted: challenging position for creative, hard working type

So now that we're pretty much going to NYC (barring a catastrophe of epic proportions...and now that I've said that, such a catastrophe will probably occur), I'm looking for a job.

Yes, a job. Anyone have any suggestions?

I'm not really that picky, honestly. I'd like something that involves using my brain somehow. Literature, journalism, publishing, writing, academia, non-profit work, political work, and newscasting are all possibilities. In fact, I'm really willing to consider any position that doesn't require 1) working in food service, or 2) doing a lot of math.

Suggestions? Comments? Job offers? Anyone?

Breaking News!

NEW PORT RICHEY, Fla. — Sources confirmed late Friday afternoon that Adam McCluskey— brilliant theologian and husband of writing genius Philosophy Walker— was admitted to General Theological Seminary in New York City, New York.

Several officials, who commented upon conditions of anonymity, said that Walker and McCluskey were overheard discussing the news while on vacation in Florida.

"[Walker] was overjoyed," said one official. "She was just completely thrilled."

The husband and wife, who married in September of last year, are expected to await the arrival of the school's financial aid offer before confirming their attendance at the seminary. Walker has expressed hopes of landing a decent job in Manhattan; she expects to support both herself and McCluskey for the next three years.

The Walker-McCluskeys' two cats— Charlotte Bronte, 2, and Lenore, 1— could not be reached for comment. Last week, however, they released a statement expressing their unwillingness to "get back in those damnable cages and drive all the way up to stupid New York." It is expected they will mount a protest if asked to relocate.

No statements have yet been released by Virginia Theological Seminary, which was also competing for the famous theologian's presence.

Happy 4th of July!

Happy 4th of July, everyone!

I'm at work (duh— I work at a FIREWORKS STORE), but I'm getting off in half an hour, and then I'm going to see the city fireworks in Youngstown with my family! And then Adam and I are going to go to a dance at the same lodge where we got married, and we'll probably drink too much wine, but that's okay, because we can just walk home, because it's about fifty feet away from where we're staying, so we don't have to drive.

And and and— it's my last day of work! Vacation time for Philosophy! I'm going to have FUN!

My fellow Americans: how are you celebrating the 4th?

Less Driving, More Walking!

I was interested to see this article, entitled "The End of Car Culture?" While the data suggesting that Americans are gaining more weight alarms us all, we can at least be excited that Americans are apparently driving less and less.

This is exciting to me for a variety of reasons, most of which relate to my extreme dislike of driving in general. I only just got my driver's license this past fall— in fact, I managed to rearrange two coming-of-age benchmarks in my life, as I actually got married before I learned to drive. Even now, I hate being behind the wheel of a car— it makes me sweat and shake just thinking about it. I've actually had nightmares about driving. In fact, yesterday and today I had to drive myself around, since my husband was out of town, and I ended up invoking Jesus' name in a pathetic plea for my life at least twice while driving to my mother's house to return a carpet cleaner. Seriously, I thought I was going to die. Today, I was so nervous about driving myself to work that my grandparents-in-law (with whom we are staying for about three days until we go down to Florida) finally just drove me there so I wouldn't stress so badly.

I also hate to drive because I feel silly doing it. I'm always looking for ways to incorporate physical activity into my day, and I'm always looking for ways to be eco-conscious— so why would I drive more than I have to? I'd rather walk to the store and enjoy the day, or take my bike to the library and get some fresh air. (Although when I do that, I frequently get hit on by high school football players, who seem to mistake me for a sixteen-year-old ingénue instead of a twenty-four-year-old preacher's wife.) I suppose it's easier for me than for most people, though— growing up, my mother didn't drive, so she made me walk EVERYWHERE, and now I'm used to it.

So the fact that people are driving less is great for me, because maybe this'll mean that public transportation will be important to more and more people. One of the things I've missed here is public transportation— and I know that a subway or light rail system probably isn't possible in a place like this, but why couldn't we have buses that run on actual schedules?

Ever since last summer, I've noticed more and more people on bicycles. Before that, I only ever saw children riding bikes; now I see people of all ages riding them, and not just in the park— they ride to the store, or to the hair salon, or sometimes even to work. And while I know that's not possible in these frigid Ohio winters, it's still nice to see people making an effort in the summer months.

So hats off to you, America! Thanks for driving less. I sure do appreciate it.

Moving Day

Tomorrow is moving day, which means Adam and I will be spending most of our evening (after I get home from work, anyway) packing up the rest of our stuff.

I hate packing.

To be sure, I've been waiting for this day for the past year. I’m used to picking up and leaving; I’ve done it since I was little, and I hope to keep changing my location around for a long time to come.

But I don’t like the process of packing.

For one thing, you never realize how much STUFF you have until you try and put it all into cardboard boxes. I like to think of myself as a fairly non-materialistic person, so it’s always a nasty shock when I realize just how much crap I have accumulated over the years.

Books and clothes are especially problematic— I tend to accrue those two types of items in excess. I have too many books, both for the obvious reason that I just graduated from college, and for the less obvious reason that I have a sentimental attachment to certain novels and poetry anthologies. The reasons for my huge clothing stash, however, are more varied, and more complicated:

1.) I haven’t changed in size or shape much since I was twelve, so I haven’t really outgrown my clothes in quite a bit;

2.) I’m pretty small in general, so lots of people give me their old hand-me-downs when they (or their kids) have outgrown them;

3.) I hardly ever buy new clothes, but prefer to shop at Salvation Army or Goodwill, which means I have access to very cheap clothes in large quantities (i.e., instead of buying a new pair of jeans for $30, I’ll buy three pairs of used jeans for $10); and:

4.) I never ever ever throw clothes away, because it is possible that I might want them in the future (i.e., I would never throw away the hugely oversized tee-shirt I got for free from a church youth group mission trip when I was thirteen, because I could use it in the future as a paint smock, or as maternity sleepwear [waaaay in the future…], or I could cut it up for rags).

My packrat tendencies are probably a result of the Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder; I’m told that it can manifest itself in hoarding, if not properly treated. I don’t hoard, exactly, but I keep things that I don’t need to keep: old birthday cards, copies of some of the better essays I’ve written, shoes that haven’t fit me since ninth grade, old copies of Cosmopolitan. And while every move does cause me to shed a few of these relics, I usually just tote most of them around from city to city, state to state, even country to country (I still have an old mini-purse that my host mom gave me in France; I don’t even like it, but I don’t want to throw it away!)

And it’s not just the stuff: I hate how your apartment or house or room looks so bare after everything’s gone. You’ve been living here for months; when you picture “home,” you see this place, comfy and lived-in, with your favorite slippers under the bed or your teakettle whistling on the stove. And now that everything is gone, it’s just a stupid bare space, and you once again don’t have a real image of “home” in your head.

I hate how everything smells when it comes out of storage— musty and kind of old, and you don’t know whether you should wash everything or just Fabreeze it to death. I hate how you have to pack dissonant items together in one box or bag— like, in order to save space, how you have to put the towels with the clothes, or the dishes with the silverware, or books alongside knickknacks. I hate how you always try to pack so strategically— write the contents on the side of the box, wrap breakable things in newspaper, pack the important stuff last so you’ll have it first when you get to your new place— and then you always end up having to unpack certain things and then repack them again in a different way.

Like I said, I hate packing.

But I keep reminding myself of all the stuff I love about moving: opening the door for the first time in your new home, learning all the ins and outs of the neighborhood, finding new places to eat, to take walks, or just to hang out. I love unpacking each item, placing it carefully where it belongs, and enjoying the neatness and organization of a newly occupied home (a neatness which, by the way, is ephemeral, and only lasts a few days at the most).

So even though I hate packing, I’m excited about this move. I can’t wait to find a job, to meet some new friends, to catch up with old friends (no matter where we move, I’ll finally be near to some of my friends from college!), and to see my husband in a place where he is appreciated and respected (I’M LOOKING AT YOU, YSU).

Really, even though this whole time is really stressful, it’s also kind of an adventure. And I love adventure!

What do you love/hate about moving?

The End of Cool

Today I realized that I’m never going to be cool again.

Adam’s teenaged cousin and her friend were over at his grandparents’ house, which is where we’re staying until we go to Florida. I walked into the room wearing blue striped pants and a giant orange men’s hoodie with the logo of the Cleveland Browns on it (it was Adam’s, as I’m sure you can guess). Clearly, I was not attired fashionably.

“I like your hoodie,” the friend said.

“Oh, thanks,” I said. “It’s my husband’s, actually. He likes the Browns.”

“Good for him,” she said, giving me a Teenager Look. And then I realized that she thought I was ridiculous.

And after that, I suddenly knew: no matter how young or how inexperienced a person may be, when that person’s friends are suddenly all wives/husbands and mothers/fathers and lawyers/linguists/doctors/graduate students/activists/politicians, that person is no longer cool. When your friends’ status messages on Facebook are now about closing on houses and getting PhDs and weddings and ultrasounds and med schools, you have passed your “cool” expiration date.

I always thought I’d be able to hang on to my cool until at least my late thirties. I’m smart, I’m sassy, I’m cute, I’ve got wicked-cool glasses, and I certainly look youthful. I know plenty of people who are cool at any age— I mean, my grandma, at age 85, always seemed cool to me, even as a teen.

Now, though, I realize that my cool went out of style with the word “cool.” The other day, I was talking with my sisters, and I said something was “totally cool.” As the words came out of my mouth, they sounded like our parents did when they told us something was “hip” or “rad” or “far out”— I sounded dated.

And I am dated, in a way. I’m still young, but I’m a young grown-up, and as soon as you become a grown-up (which happens at different times for different people; I’ve known people who were grown up at seventeen, and people who, at forty, still hadn’t grown up) you suddenly begin to lose your cool. One day you look in the mirror, and you realize that something is different— your physical beauty no longer comes from the blush in your cheeks or the hard lines of your figure, but rather from the depth in your eyes and from the pre-Raphaelite softness of your body as it settles into itself. (The older I get, the more I feel that older woman are far more beautiful than younger ones— that there really is something far more lovely in the curve of laugh lines than in smooth, unblemished, uninteresting skin.)

My priorities have shifted so drastically over these past few years, and my wants and needs have changed so much, that sometimes I wonder if my seventeen-year-old self— dreamy and pink-haired— would even recognize this new woman, a woman who is learning to cook and to be patient and (sometimes) to not tell everyone everything about her life. I know that when we tell my sister Sarah that she’s going to change a lot between now and her twenties, she just rolls her eyes, but I wish I could explain to her just how true that is— the people with whom she is currently friends will probably be Facebook memories, the classes she hates now will have been completely forgotten, and she’ll have new friends, new crushes, new dreams. When I was her age, I wanted to be a lawyer, and I wanted to move to Thailand, and I wanted to adopt a baby and parent it all by myself. And now I’m married to a future priest and I’m working as a writer and I don’t want any babies right now and I couldn’t be happier with the person I’ve become. I also know that I'll keep changing, and I can't wait to meet 30-year-old Philosophy— a Philosophy who might have a steady job and a big apartment and maybe even a daughter or a son.

My seventeen-year-old self would laugh at my now-self. My seventeen-year-old self would think that my now-self is silly, and boring, and totally uncool.

And in that case, I think “uncool” is the best thing to be. Because I’m so happy being me— knowing who I am, and what I want, and getting the hang of responsibility and making good choices. I’d trade cool for comfortable in a heartbeat.

It turns out that the person I want to be isn’t cool. The person I want to be is fun, and smart, and kind, but she’s not cool.

Goodbye, cool. And good riddance!

Road Trip Madness!

When I was little, we almost always took vacations by car. Planes were too expensive, trains didn’t go where we wanted, and besides— who doesn’t want to spend three days looking at billboard advertisements from over the top of a younger sister’s head? :P

But we had a lot of fun on those trips, and it was always so cool to plan for them beforehand— to get out the old National Geographic atlas (oh, the pre-MapQuest days!) and trace out our route with a highlighter, to get travel guides from the library (what did we do without the internet then?), to gather up new books and tapes and snacks and get ready to see America. There was always a surprise along the way— an unexpected vista or photo op, a dime-store puzzle book from my mother to keep me occupied, a game to invent with my sisters (many of which ended in tears for them, which was half the fun for me!), and a hotel pool, some cable TV, and a continental breakfast to be thoroughly appreciated.

The last long car trip we took wasn’t all that long ago—my parents and sisters drove from Ohio to New Mexico to see me graduate from high school, and then we all drove back again. And while there were a few squabbles (“She’s listening to her music too loudly!” “She’s eating in an annoying way— make her stop!”) it was still a trip I’ll never forget.

Which is why I’m so eager to start our adventurous trip down to Florida! I’ve been doing some research, and I came up with some cool info for car trips:

-Road snacks don’t have to be greasy! In order to save money on food, Adam and I are planning to make some meals and snacks beforehand and then eat them on the road. I liked this site’s suggestion of veggies, roasted nuts, and string cheese, and this site has got me interested in making ANZAC biscuits, which sound both yummy and able to withstand two days in a hot car.

-Even with the free continental breakfast at our South Carolina hotel, we’ll probably have to break down and have at least one fast food meal (and who can afford to go to sit down restaurants anymore? Pfffff!). So I’ve been researching which fast food places are the healthiest; while I’ve never actually seen a few of the listed restaurants here in Ohio, they might exist down South, so we may be able to find them there, after all.

-I have a lot of trouble with car sickness. Maybe it’s a defective inner ear issue, or maybe it’s because I’m just sort of a whiner, but I often get queasy on long trips— although this will be my first time actually sharing the driving responsibilities on one of these trips, so maybe that will help.

Anyways, I liked this little blurb on how to avoid car sickness. Blech…hopefully I can skip over it this time around.

-I found these general tips, which included some small stretches to do at rest stops, pretty helpful.

Oh goodness, I’m so excited! Let’s do this!

Anyone have some road trip advice/experiences/tips to share with me?

The War On Popsicles

Every field has its crackpot, right?

Well, meet MeMe Roth, the most horrible promoter of heath I have ever come across.

This woman is out of her mind. She kidnapped sprinkles from a YMCA in 2007, attacked Santa Claus for being fat, and is the creator of the Wedding Gown Challenge, which says that women should strive to be the same size as they were on their wedding day throughout their ENTIRE LIVES. (Yeah, that doesn't sound at ALL like advocating a starvation diet).

Ooooh, and the best part was where she said (and this is a quotation from the Wedding Gown Challenge blog entry), "But whether you agree with his every utterance or recoil, there’s one thing we all can admire about Bill O’Reilly: The guy keeps himself in shape."

Yes. Because the most important thing about a political pundit is HIS APPEARANCE.

This woman is utterly insane. Just do a Google search and find out for yourself.

I understand that we don't want to encourage obesity any more than we have to. But honestly, a lot of the factors she attacks aren't factors that are actually responsible for obesity. Santa Claus? Seriously? The "fat" version of Santa has been around since 1823. If Santa's obesity is such a bad influence on kids, why is the obesity epidemic so recent? She actually causing more people to scoff at fitness and healthy eating, not less.

This chick needs to chill, yo.

The Plan

You guys know this about me: I love to plan. I like figuring things out before I do them, considering every scenario so that I'm not blindsided when things go wrong or when surprises pop up (because they ALWAYS do). I'm flexible with my plans— it's not like I'm horribly upset if they don't go down the way I'd hoped— but I enjoy making them. It's kind of like how I like to make lists (to-do lists, grocery lists, lists of weekend activities, etc.)— it's a way for me to remind myself of how much potential my future holds, and how many blessings I've received in my life. "Be prepared" is my motto!

So lots of people have been asking about our plans, now that Adam is out of school and seminary looms near. Here's the skinny on what we're planning for the rest of the summer:

July 1-2: Adam's interviews for seminary (For General Theological— if Virginia Theological would ever ANSWER OUR EMAILS AND VOICEMAILS, we might know when they want to do interviews, too).

July 4: My last day at work. Yes, I have to work twelve hours on the Fourth of July. Such is the reality of the recession, my friends.

July 6: A New Philosophy goes on the road! We're driving from Ohio to Florida in two days, but luckily, our cheap-o hotel room provides free internet access (and, thankfully, a free breakfast) so I can update from Columbia, SC! We'll be staying with my grandmother Dorris in Florida and enjoying the sun, sand, and fishing opportunities!

Late August/early September: We return to Ohio for a week— staying with family, saying some farewells, and getting all of our crap out of storage.

One week later: We move to seminary. Unless Virginia stops playing mind games, it looks like it might be NYC for us.

So the blog will be undergoing some changes, much like our lives here will be changing. I can't wait to start looking for jobs and getting ready to live my life in a real city! Yay!

I Need Help

Guys, I need a favor.

You know how sometimes you might have a bad day? Well, I'm having a bad week. Well, maybe a bad month.

I've been grumpy, mean, and controlling. I've been picking fights with my husband, and then, when he finally loses his temper, I've been crying uncontrollably. In fact, I've just basically been crying uncontrollably a lot.

I have to avoid Facebook, because it hurts me to look at how many of my UWC classmates are at prestigious grad schools or doing volunteer work in Sri Lanka or winning awards or working awesome jobs that actually utilize their skills and higher education degrees.

I've been whining and eating large amounts of grease and experiencing weird sleeping patterns. I've been angry at myself all the time, for no reason. I've been doing things that I don't like and that are out of character for me, and I don't enjoy it.

So this is your mission, should you choose to accept it: cheer me up. I don't care how you do it, but I need a smile. A funny story, a cute link, words of encouragement or friendship or kindness— anything will do.

Please help me. I'm very sad, and being sad is terribly boring.

Video Games and Exercise

A few months ago, my parents got a Wii. Needless to say, I visit them frequently. :)

The Nintendo Wii is a wonderful video game system (particularly for gamers like me— people who can’t devote themselves to a soul-sucking game like World of Warcraft, but who would like to occasionally become obsessed with, say, Final Fantasy XII), and I think that where it really excels is in its ability to incorporate, and even encourage, physical movement instead of couch-potatoing. And this is most eloquently apparent in the number of very popular exercise games that have been developed for the Wii.

The first one was the most famous: Wii Fit, a game that sought to unite fitness, fun, and adorable cartoonish figures in one family-friendly experience. Wii Fit came packaged with a bathroom scale-like device called the Wii Balance Board; the board could both measure your weight and respond to minute changes in your stance, making it a cool accessory that has applications even beyond the fitness game world. (For example, my mom and I like to play this fun party game that uses the Balance Board to simulate skiing, flying, and riding a tractor!)

Wii Fit was relatively gentle, though, with more of a focus on yoga and posture and “digestive health” than on cardio workouts. Enter EA Sports Active, a game that specifically targets those who complained that the Wii Fit was too easy or not efficient enough at encouraging real weight loss.

Instead of a complicated peripheral, EA Sports Active comes with two low-tech accessories: a leg strap (which is used to store the Wii nunchuck so that lower body motion can be tracked) and a resistance band that aids in certain strength-training exercises. As a result, EA Sports Active is cheaper than Wii Fit by almost $40 (although I’ve seen about a dozen complaints that the resistance band tends to break easily, so maybe the price is deceptively low, since you’ve got to go out and get a better band eventually, anyways). And instead of some of the mellow yoga and balance games, EA Sports Active focuses on traditional exercises and cardio workouts.

I’ve been enjoying these games immensely whenever I visit my parents, and I think they’re a great idea— they even cater to different types of people, as Wii Fit seems to be geared towards people who hate working out, while EA Sports Active is intended for people who DO want to work out but who don’t want to go to a gym. I think it's fabulous that gamers are interested, not just in having fun, but in staying healthy, too.

And apparently, you can find a fitness game for the Playstation 2, as well— good news, as we’ve actually got one of those at our place (although it’s a loaner, so we might not have it that much longer).

More and more, and I think people are realizing that exercise doesn’t have to be restricted to the gym. There are so many clever ways to work physical activity into your life.

Anyone else have a cool way to get moving?

Reflections on Friendship

Someone posed an interesting question at work today:

What is a friend?

I mean, the answer seems obvious at first— so obvious that you might not even be able to give a verbal definition because you can’t believe it’s the kind of thing you’d have to explain. But when you think about it, the idea of what constitutes a “friend” (instead of, say, an acquaintance, or a colleague, or “the guy who makes my daily latte and usually talks to me about interesting things while he’s making it”) isn’t all that simple, especially today.

If I were a character in a Jane Austen novel, I’d know exactly what a “friend” is. Back then, friends were people with whom you visited, with whom you attended parties, whom you would invite to dinner at your house. Being friends with a person wouldn’t be that hard— you would meet, you would enjoy one another’s company, and then you might make plans to meet again. As a result, people didn't have many friends— or if they did, their friends were all in the same social circle, and they rarely befriended people who lived differently than they did.

But since then, things have changed. In the era of constant contact via Twitter and Facebook and cell phones and AIM and email and voicemail— who are your friends?

It’s not so simple to figure that out, sometimes.

I mean, no definition of friendship today can reasonably attempt to introduce the subject of face time. The world has gotten smaller; we make friends in one part of the world, and then before we know it, we’re living in a new part. I went to boarding school with people from 88 different countries, and while some of those people moved to America after they graduated, plenty more did not. Of those who did move to America, most didn’t move to my neck of the woods in Ohio. I can’t see those friends on a regular basis; I haven’t seen my dearest friend from UWC, Margarita, since my wedding nine months ago (and I NEED to call her, because I’ve been meaning to do that for weeks now…). None of my Vassar friends live in Ohio, with the exception of Erin— who lives just far enough away from me that frequent visits aren’t possible. But I still consider those people I loved in college to be my friends, even if I haven’t seen them since graduation.

More and more, I find myself trying to invent new titles for people I would like to consider friends: “This guy I know” or “someone I met in film class” or “Linda, who sits two desks down from mine at work.” The girl I mentioned in my sexy brides post, the one I knew in high school, the one to whom I haven’t spoken in perhaps four years— I still think I’d like to be her friend, if it were at all possible. I’m her Facebook friend, anyway, and I see from her profile that she’s become a skilled, interesting, and erudite young woman with whom I’m sure I could have a large number of stimulating conversations. From her photos, I know she’s also still fun and humorous, and I think we’d have a good time if we got together and talked about old times.

But there’s that distance there— you know, that gap that opens up after you haven’t spoken to someone in a long time. You don’t want that gap to keep getting wider, because the wider it gets, the less able you’ll be to rekindle the friendship. And yet, because the gap exists, you don’t know whether or not it can be crossed.

What would happen if I wrote on her Facebook wall? What would happen if I sent her an email? What would happen if I asked a mutual friend, a friend with whom we are both still in contact, if I could have her number, and called her on the phone?

We’d probably hit it off again. We’d probably talk for a while, and enjoy the shared memories. We’d probably make plans to meet and talk in person. We’d probably drift apart again, after a few years, but we might make some sort of effort to keep a comfortable, distant correspondence going.

But the possibility will always exist that she won’t write back, that she’ll ignore the post, that there will be silence on the line, followed by a loud click. And my pride won’t let me risk it. Or maybe it’s not my pride— maybe it’s something a little more sentimental and silly than that. Maybe I don’t want to confront the very real possibility that I let a friend become a stranger simply because I was lazy and busy and not really acting the way a good friend would act.

And I’m wondering if that’s not really a lot of what's so appealing about Facebook. With social networking applications and websites, we never have to admit to ourselves that our friendships have died. Even if we haven’t spoken to someone in years, even if we haven’t invited them to our weddings or parties or even over to our houses, even if we don’t know the names of their now-husbands or faceless children— we can still comfort ourselves with that slender Facebook connection: we’re still friends on the internet. Even if we don’t talk, even if we don’t share secrets, even if we’ve become completely different, even irreconcilable, types of people in the months or years or even decades we’ve been apart— we can still see each other’s faces, in the form of profile pictures, every day. We can still click on a link and see inside our “friend’s” apartment in Chelsea, and learn that our “friend” is working at IBM, and know that our “friend” voted for John McCain or Barack Obama or Ralph Nader.

It’s a sense of false intimacy, really. If all I know about you is your name and what you look like, or what you used to look like, then we couldn’t really be friends. But if I know you’ve joined a group dedicated to environmentalism, and I can see pictures of you bathing your one-year-old son in the kitchen sink, and I know what you’re doing ever moment of every day, even the mundane nuances of your humdrum existence— “Philosophy is having dinner,” “Philosophy is missing her husband!” “Philosophy loves watching TV”— then how could we ever be strangers?

Even if we barely remember what it was like to hear one another’s voices, how can we claim to be indifferent to one another, knowing and experiencing the things we do?

Organic Fast Food? Really?

Did you know that there's such a thing as organic fast food?

Well, apparently there is.

The good news is that at least one of these companies is located in each of the cities in which I could potentially be living soon— so no matter where I live, I could possibly be able to check some of these places out for myself!

Has anyone actually ever had any food from these chains (excluding Chipotle, which even exists here in Y-town)? Is it any good?

Babbling About Babies and Birth

Did an amateurish documentary produced by Ricki Lake just make me completely change my opinion on natural childbirth? Why yes, yes it did.

I am such a weak-minded sheep.

But the film I just watched, The Business of Being Born, really DID change my outlook. About three hours ago, I was completely in favor of drug-laced, hospital-located, voluntary-C-section-having birth plans. When considering my own childbirth experience— upon which, thankfully, I have another nine years to reflect— my motto was generally: “Gimme the drugs, cut me open, and make sure I don’t remember ANYTHING."

But now I’m not so sure. Did you know that, in both Europe and Japan, midwives attend over 70% of births? In America, only 8% of births are attended by midwives. America is one of the countries with the highest voluntary C-section rates, and the highest rates of pregnancy hospitalization.

And really, the point that the film made about the interests of doctors (who, while they are good people, don’t necessarily have the time to stick around for twelve hours of labor, and generally want the procedure to be over quickly) was pretty valid. Childbirth is a natural event, not an emergency. Do I really need to go to a hospital?

Plus, I was very intrigued by the footage of home births I saw where the husband could hold and snuggle with and caress the wife. If I have a baby, I don’t want Adam sitting over a metal railing, holding my hand from afar— I want him all up in my business, I want him holding on to me, I want his arms around me. I also like the idea that, if you use a birth center or home birth midwife, you can get up and walk around, or get into the shower, or play music, or do whatever the heck you want. Hey— it’s my birth experience, bitches. If I’m gonna be in that much pain, I wanna damn well do what I please.

My mother had me and my sister Tatiana in hospitals, but my youngest sister Sarah was born in a “birth place,” where midwives presided and the rooms were like homes instead of cells. And she said she really liked the experience— they didn’t take the baby away from you immediately, they kept the baby in the room the whole time after it was born, and they didn’t make you stay after the birth if it was clear you were ready to go. My mom had my sister in the early morning (like, I think it was 1 or 2 am, maybe?) and then she left later in the morning and came home.

The whole time I was watching the movie, I kept thinking, “Well, yeah, sure, the experience might be better, but what about PRICE? If it’s expensive, I’ll never consent to do it.” But actually, the film points out that hospital births cost around $13,000, while a home midwife charges about $4000 (and that includes pre- and post-natal care). Plus, I did some research, and a lot of insurance companies will cover births done at birth centers (although I’m still unsure about their general policy for home birth).

I know this is a long ways off for me, but I think it’s something I’ll definitely have to be thinking about and considering as Adam and I move along in our relationship, and as we continue our dialogue about the sort of parents we’d want to be (or even whether or not we want to be parents at all). It’s an interesting thing to think about, anyways, and the documentary was pretty entertaining, too.

Any moms out there want to share their experiences?

Keeping Clean

Many of you have remarked that I have not yet posted photos of my lovely PNN mug. In response to your queries, I shall provide the following explanation:

My house is a STY.

Okay, here's the problem. Normal people keep their houses clean by picking up a little every day. Normal people are able to do one or two small chores— vacuuming and doing a load of laundry, say, or cleaning the bathroom mirror and then doing the dishes— without feeling the need to clean everything in the house.

Unfortunately for me, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder has made such an ability inaccessible.

See, when I clean, I CLEAN. Anything could make me go clean-crazy— it could be something as simple as thinking to myself, “Gee, this coaster has something sticky on it.”

As soon as this thought occurs, this chain of events will unfold: I will pick up the coaster, but when I go to wash it in the sink, I realize there’s a mug in there, as well. So I’ll wash the mug and the coaster, but then I won’t be able to set them on the counter to dry, because there’s a crumb on the counter. Out comes the disinfectant; when I go to replace the dishrag near the sink, though, I’ll notice that the whole sink might need cleaned. After cleaning the sink, the spigot looks dirty, so I’ll shine that up, too. Having finally made it out of the kitchen, I can’t place the coaster back on the coffee table, because the coaster is dirty and the coffee table is clean, so the coffee table will need to Pledge and a soft cloth. This will require the removal of EVERY SINGLE THING from the coffee table. After I’ve shined it up, I’ll need to organize everything back on the table, and while doing this, I’ll realize that I’ve pushed some dust and crumbs onto the carpet (note: even if no dust and or/crumbs were actually deposited, I will firmly believe that this has occurred). So here we go with the vacuum, except I’ll have to vacuum the entire living room, since it seems horribly strange to have a singular clean space in the room. Since my living room, my dining room, my foyer, my kitchen, and my hallway are all connected (there are no doors between them, since we live in an apartment), I’ll have to vacuum everywhere. And then while I’m down there, I’ll realize that the carpet smells slightly musty, so I’ll get the Fabreeze, except then I’ll have to use it on the couch, and the chairs, and my bed…

I can’t clean unless I clean PERFECTLY. If I can’t clean perfectly, says the little voice in my head, I may as well let everything go to seed.

Except then everything DOES go to seed, and the clean freak inside me feels sick. And this happens in a horribly vicious cycle.

So right now, my home looks like squatters live there, and I am unable to do anything about it, because I'm incapable to doing a little at a time— and if I did it all at once, it'd probably take me two days straight.

Of course, the fact that we're moving in three weeks kind of puts a damper on my efforts, as well. Why bother organizing things if we're just going to un-organize them again very soon?

I've considered using Chore Buster— but of course, I bet Adam wouldn't be very enthusiastic about implementing a new plan this close to moving, anyways.

ARGH. How do you keep your place clean?

Fishy Finds

As many of you know, I’m becoming more and more aware of the foods that I eat and their environmental and social impact. I posted a short time ago about my attempts to reduce the amount of meat in my diet (and to buy locally produced meats), and I share my make-it-yourself food attempts regularly on this blog. I’m also REALLY jealous that Olivia gets to go see Food, Inc., especially since it probably will never be screened in a theatre anywhere near me.

But sometimes, I don’t always know how to recognize the most environmentally friendly option (or the healthiest, for that matter). Sometimes it’s a lesser-of-two evils kind of thing, and I don’t know where to turn. I feel like a lot of people are experiencing this, especially as there’s a new sitcom on ABC that specifically mocks the attempts of liberal do-gooders to do what’s right. (Unfortunately, the show is pretty boring, and the jokes were all atrociously lame and obvious, but hey, they tried. I didn’t like King of the Hill, either, so I should have known I wouldn’t like this.)

So I was thrilled when this week’s episode of The Splendid Table suggested Seafood Watch and Blueocean.org, two sources that can help you figure out how to eat seafood in a more environmentally friendly way. They both provide lists of fish products and detail the effects that raising and catching these fish have on the environment, so that consumers can choose fish that were caught in sustainable ways.

Seafood Watch has a list of restaurants that have partnered up with them (I was pleasantly surprised to see a Cleveland-area restaurant included!), and Blue Ocean has a separate sushi guide (although that one is maybe a little less useful, because most sushi restaurants don’t print the location, fishing method, and breed of each type of fish on the menu).

I’m glad to have these guides, because I sometimes find myself standing in the grocery store and thinking, “What exactly is the difference between Alaska salmon and Pacific salmon?” Not that I can afford to buy salmon very often, but…y’know, it’s an occasional treat.

Check those out, and while you’re at it, try the twenty healthiest foods for under $1. Mmmm…kale!

Things Are Getting Hairy

As you may or may not have noticed, the picture of me to the left of front page has changed. What was once a depiction of a charmingly awkward senior in college has now morphed into a stunning wife, cat-mommy, and professional writer.

The reason for this image change, of course, is this: today I got a haircut. Since this hasn’t happened for two whole years now, it’s kind of a bit deal.

Previously, I had what I liked to call the “Recession Cut,” which means I couldn’t justify spending my hard-earned cash on something as trivial and superficial as hair maintenance. After two years, though, I was beginning to resemble a desert island castaway— my hair was almost at my waist, and it was frizzled and damaged and riddled with split ends beyond belief. And while I’m not concerned about looking stylish or trendy, I don’t actually want people to avoid me because they’re afraid of disrupting the baby birds nesting on my head.

So my mother offered to get me a haircut for my birthday. It took me more than a month to actually set the appointment, but I did it, and now I am a glamazon of the highest order.

For one thing, I think I look much more writerly. My old look just said Ewwww, I have a day job, but my new look screams Check me out! I sit in coffee shops and scribble poems on napkins and look very mysterious in bookstores!

For another thing, I don’t have to feel guilty, since this was a very legitimate present, and was not an instance of either 1) financial irresponsibility on my part, or 2) sponging off my relatives’ generosity.

The glasses help, too. I now confidently project, not minimally hideous college student, but rather sexy, naughty librarian type who is the Lord Byron of her time.

This is it, folks. With this hair, I will write my masterpiece.

A Meat Lover's Lament

So here's the deal: I want to change my nutritional intake in order to reduce my impact on the environment, but I’m not sure how to do it, and I have some varied reservations about it, as well. Maybe you can help me.

Here’s the background on this situation. I was checking out Breathing Earth, a real-time simulation of birth, death, and CO2 emission rates, and towards the bottom of the page there’s a section headlined “What can I do?” which outlines some steps you can take to reduce your negative impact on our world. “Reduce the amount of fuel you consume”— check. I already carpool and enjoy public transportation (although the latter is difficult to come by out here), and I try and walk almost everywhere I can. “Reduce the amount of electricity you use”— check. I make an effort to turn out lights when I’m not using them, and we try to limit our use of the air conditioning and heating system (although I’m certainly not going to forgo its use entirely— I don’t mind using blankets and fans for myself, but if you think I’ll allow my little Charlotte Bronte, with her unfortunate heart condition, to be overheated or frozen, you’ve got another think coming).

But the third one was “reduce the amount of animal products you consume.” Hrm.
    
Then I used this cute little calculator to compute my own personal carbon footprint, and WHOA— apparently it would take 2.8 earths to sustain everyone at my level of consumption! Of course, I wanted to know what I could do to help change this— and was immediately greeted with: “reduce the amount of animal products you consume.” AGAIN. Sheesh!

Now, I’ve heard this line before, but I always brushed off such advice with the complacent insistence that I already do enough. I recycle, I don’t use paper or plastic cutlery, plates, or cups, and I avoid driving like the plague. My husband and I use handkerchiefs instead of tissues, buy local wine and beer, and use our own cloth bags at the store instead of getting paper or plastic ones.

But now I’m thinking I should make some sort of effort towards reducing the amount of animal products we eat. Problem is…well, there are a couple problems for me to sort out.

For one thing, I don’t actually want to be a vegetarian or a vegan. I have enormous respect and admiration for people who do that; it’s a healthy lifestyle, and I applaud you, but it’s just not for me. I like meat, and feel good about leaving meat in my diet. I’m anemic, and I feel stronger and healthier and more energetic when I eat small amounts of meat. I also have no moral problem with eating animals. (In fact, my college friends will recall that I have sworn to eradicate the entire chicken population from the face of the earth. I almost want to eat at Charlie Staples’ Chicken on purpose just so I can contribute to the death of chickens. Have you ever MET a chicken? They are HORRIBLE HORRIBLE CREATURES. I hate them. Never turn your back on one, because they will murder you in your sleep, I swear. One time Adam and I were making out in his parents’ barn, and some stupid chicken attacked my head with its stupid beak. Have you ever been prevented from kissing a gorgeous man by a flailing chicken face? NOT COOL. I’ve only ever met one nice chicken, and he was a miniature chicken who was bred as a pet and not for food, so I'm sure he doesn’t count. Chickens are the only animals I seriously despise. I agree with the Chik-fil-a cows: EAT MORE CHICKEN. :P)

So I don’t want to give up meat entirely. But without becoming a vegetarian, how do I know “too much meat” when I see it?

For another thing, I hear cutting out meat entirely is a sure way to lose weight, and apparently I’m not supposed to be doing that, seeing as I’m actually pretty underweight. Seriously— as I’ve mentioned before, I weigh less than 100 lbs. If I lost any weight, I’d probably have to wear bulky sweaters or lots of layers because I think my mother would beat me up. She’s already convinced that I’m somehow malnourished and has been chastising me firmly for it, even though she KNOWS I’ve always been teensy.

And of course, this is Ohio, which means that meat is not only cheap— it's locally produced. If I’m trying to eat locally, it seems silly for me to buy avocados grown in Colorado or melons grown in California as a substitute for beef raised and butchered twenty miles away.

I did become intrigued by the idea of being an “ethical omnivore,” because that seems to be more of what I’m feeling right now. No need to torture animals in order to eat them, right? And farms like these often sell locally, which means I wouldn't be supporting Big Agra and I'd be buying from a local source. But when I discussed this possibility with Adam (after all, we’re married, so we eat meals together, and any major dietary alteration that would include a change in grocery shopping habits should probably be something we discuss and decide together), he laughed. And so it seems that my husband has become an unlikely stumbling block in this instance.

Adam not only loves meat— he also eats meat that he’s known personally. He grew up in the country, and he named and fed and petted countless pigs, cows, and chickens— all of which he ended up eating at the dinner table at some point. Like me, he has no qualms about eating animals, so long as they're properly raised. And so he seems to think my attempts to work “ethical omnivore” into our dynamic is some sort of diabolical way to get him to be a vegetarian. He willingly and enthusiastically does everything else he can imagine to help the environment, but I don’t think he quite gets the “eat less meat” thing, and he’s visibly skeptical about the impact it would make.

So maybe I should just eschew all dietary labels and try to do things my own way. Maybe I’ll just stick to purchasing all my meat locally and to trying to keep it down to one or two meat dishes per week. Of course, the problem with THIS scenario is that I don’t cook dinner most of the time. Adam is the main cook in our house, since I don’t enjoy the cooking process all that much, and since I work more now than he does, anyways. And he’s not going to voluntarily keep out the meat himself; if I want that done, I’ll have to cook stuff myself.

I’m going to try and subtly suggest recipes from Chow Vegan, and the fabulous Splendid Table (to which we sometimes listen together) often has good ideas for responsible ways to eat and cook, so maybe I could discuss this with him further while we're tuning in to the radio. But I’m looking for suggestions as to how to be more conscientious about my meat consumption without cutting it out completely— and in a way that would coax my husband into agreeing to it, as well.

Suggestions?

Stumbling Upon Awesomeness

Stumble Upon is my new best friend.

I first heard of this fabulous experience last year, when a friend at Vassar suggested that I try it out. I was in the middle of Thesis Madness, though, and never really got to see what it could do.

Now I've rediscovered the wonder of Stumble Upon, a site application that helps you sift through the entire internet and find highly rated websites that you'd enjoy.

Here's some useful stuff I've found using Stumble Upon:

- I love herbal folk remedies, and Earth Clinic has a whole list of them, with user reviews detailing the effectiveness level of each remedy. I'm looking forward to trying a few of these myself (with, of course, the consultation of my doctor).

- This distance pedometer is useful for quickly estimating distances AND for planning neighborhood jogs. I used it to plan a run to and back from a nearby park!

- Sometimes I get weird food cravings, and I know they're due to some sort of chemical or nutrient that I'm not ingesting in large enough amounts. But I never know exactly WHAT nutrient I should be taking in— which is why this handy food craving chart is so helpful. They even have my most common cravings— burned foods— and the suggestion that I need more fruit in my diet is probably correct, because I definitely don't eat enough fruit. (In fact, I eat veggies WAAAAY more than I eat fruits...weird, no?)

And here are some not-so-useful— but still completely awesome— websites:

- Create your own snowflake!

- Abraham Lincoln's Facebook page.

- For all those who like their video game heroes with a little less capitalism and a little more proletariat...it's The People's Mario!

- Write your name in Elvish in ten minutes! (Mine looks SO PRETTY.)

Go to Stumble Upon, if you haven't already, and try it out. Go now. NOW! :)

For New Grads, And All Who Wish They'd Stayed In College

Think you're smart?

Take the Ultimate Test.

As an addendum to the excellent link above, I've created my own questions for the test:

16. Literature

Write an epic poem in blank verse based on your own biography. Do not use punctuation or capitalization, but be sure to work in the word "tintinnabulation". Now, write a memoir based on your inspiration for that poem, then write three different critical essays on this memoir from the perspective of three different literary scholars. Be sure to include examples of the following theories about the memoir: 1) repressed homosexuality, 2) previously undiagnosed mental illnesses, and 3) doubt as to the authenticity of authorship. Extra credit will be given to students who use evidence to successfully argue that the memoir was actually written by Queen Elizabeth I.

17. Religion

Prove God. Now, disprove God.

18. Geography

Find Iraq on a map. (Extra credit will be given to students of American citizenship who complete this exercise successfully.) Now, find Ohio on a map. (Extra credit will be given to students with non-American citizenships who complete this exercise successfully.)

19. Dance

Become Martha Graham.

20. British Humor

Calculate the air speed velocity of an African swallow carrying a five-pound coconut. Calculate the air speed velocity of a European swallow carrying a seven-pound coconut. Use those figures to answer the following questions:

a. What is your name?

b. What is your quest?

c. What is your favorite color?

Failure to complete these three questions correctly and in a timely manner will result immediate ejection from the Bridge of Death.

***

Anyone else have a good question for the test? :)

Hello, I'm a Mac, and I'm a pretty machine!

While I know this isn't an issue of immediate national importance or interest, and while I know there are many more important things happening right now about which I could complain (that stupid Notre Dame protest, for example), I'm going to take this opportunity to do something far easier than debate abortion rights:

I'm going to make fun of Microsoft.

And the reason why is this: their new ad campaign is SO. VERY. BAD.

You know— the ads built around the "I'm a PC" line, the ones that feature college students or children or old people using PCs and buying them from stores. There are two basic variations: in one kind of ad, the featured person is shown using their PC to do something cool or interesting, and then at the end the person says something like, "I'm a PC, and I love art!" or "I'm a PC, and I'm seven years old." The second variation is even stupider: there's a person who is looking to buy a new computer, and the Microsoft people tell them that they'll pay for the computer if it's under $1500; the person then chooses a PC over a Mac and gets his/her money.

The ads aren't just boring and unremarkable— they actually cause me to stop whatever I'm doing and think, "Why don't they fire their marketing director?" I mean, granted, I've been an avid Mac fan from the time I was a little girl, but still, these ads are just atrocious.

For one thing, they're defensive ads, because they're specifically targeted to erase the damage that those clever Mac ads have done over the past few years. Remember the ones with Jason Long as the Mac and that sweet, pudgy guy with the glasses (I can never remember his name) as the PC? I completely disagreed with this article when it was first published, and it seems I'm right, because those Mac ads were a huge hit. For one thing, I don't think they're "mean-spirited"— they're saying that Macs are cooler than PCs, and while that may not be the basis upon which you want to make your computer choices, it is still a valid opinion to have. Isn't aspiration how most products are sold? Isn't that the point— to make people think your product is cooler? For another thing, the author above is wrong to assume that people would automatically like the PC character more. Yes, he's adorably inept, but is that the sort of computer you'd want? When you're watching the ad, you're not thinking, "Which one of these people would I rather have as a friend?" but rather "Which one of these people would be more useful to me?"— since you're thinking of them as machines, not people.

Yes, the Mac ads are kind of snotty. But I don't think it's "mean" to say "My product is better than your product" in a commerical— that IS pretty much the point of such things. And those ads were very clever and funny and interesting, to boot.

Anyways, my point here is that these ads were clever and worked well, and so it's kind of pathetic that Microsoft couldn't just come up with their own ad campaign. But noooo— many of these ads say things like, "I'm a PC, and I've been turned into a stereotype." Seriously? You have to respond to an ad campaign by echoing said campaign's message?

But mostly the ads are stupid because they don't really make me want to buy PCs. The ones with featured people who use their PCs to do "cool" stuff are dumb because they seem to mostly feature children; while I'm sure the idea was to show how easy PCs can be to handle, I don't really think that makes an appealing proposition for those of us who aren't, say, five years old. I don't care that these toddlers can take pictures on digital cameras and put them on their PCs— I don't have kids, and I'm not a kid, so I'm not interested. Show me some grown-ups doing grown-up stuff, and I'll be more impressed. Until then, you're pretty much looking like a manufacturer of expensive electronic toys for babies.

The latter type of ad (which shows people purchasing PCs and being given refunds for them) are the worst of all, because the only reason the featured people ever seem to give for why they didn't choose a Mac was the price. Um, so your message is "PCs: we're the cheapo alternative!"? Seriously, it's ridiculous: am I supposed to truly assume that these people being videotaped chose PCs because they wanted them? They chose them because you said, "Let us film you choosing a PC and we'll give it to you for free," and these folks said, "Hey, neat, free computer!" Your ad doesn't illustrate the superiority of the PC in any way— it just coveys the truly shocking message that people like free things and generally will not refuse them.

To me, it's just another example of how little Microsoft understands non-techie people. I hear that PCs are excellent if you actually do programming or whatnot, but what about those of us who just wanna type and use the interwebs and maybe chat with our parents on iChat? What about those of us who don't give a crap HOW they work, so long as they DO?

And y'know, before anyone whips out the "Macs are really only about aesthetics," I'm going to cut you off right now, because here's the thing: aesthetics aren't entirely unimportant. Now, I love my Mac because it never gets viruses like my sister's PC does and it doesn't crash nearly as much as my sister's PC does and it never gets spyware or needs to be defragged like my sister's PC does. But also, I kind of love it because it looks pretty.

And guess what? IT SHOULD. Because no matter what you buy, you're going to end up spending a lot of money on a computer. Even if you spend $300, that's still A LOT OF MONEY. And you can't just get another one if you get tired of the first one; that computer's gotta last you five or six years, man, or even longer, if you're poor like me.

So really, if I'm gonna pay an assload of money and drag this thing around with me constantly for five years, I WANT IT TO LOOK NICE. If I'm going to be staring at its screen for hours every day, I WANT THAT SCREEN TO BE ATTRACTIVE. IF I'm going to be pressing and repressing these keys late into the night, I WANT SOME DAMN FINE KEYS.

This computer isn't a person— with people, it's what's inside that counts. But consumer products don't have souls, so they better damn well make up for that shortcoming by looking nice while they do some useful shit for me.

I don't have a lot of money, so purchasing a computer would require a LOT of saving, for a long time. But if I'm going to save up all that money anyways, why not save for a few months longer, and get the computer that is easier for people like me to use?

And that's perhaps the commercials' biggest failing here: they never adequately address the fact that MACS ARE USEFUL AND PRETTY. They try to make themselves look good, and they do a somewhat solid job, but they never make that important comparison, the comparison that would make Macs look bad. And so we are left with the impression that PCs are good, but that Macs are also good, and so when we go to the store to buy a computer, we'll probably think, "Well, if they're both good, why not get the one that looks nicer?"

If you have a PC and you think it works great and looks great, that's fine. I just don't find PCs useful or attractive, and all I'm saying is that these commercials don't do much to change my mind. I'm waiting for the day when a PC commercial makes me sit up and say, "Gee, that's a damned fine PC!" But I haven't seen it yet, and I'm currently skeptical of the probability of that event ever coming to pass.

How did you feel about those commercials? Did they make you want to buy a PC, or make you glad that you owned one?

Hail The Conquering Graduate

My husband is now a college graduate!

We didn't go to the ceremony— he suddenly decided, last night, that he didn't want to go, so we just stayed home this morning instead of doing the cap-and-gown thing. But it's official now: he's graduated. Finally.

And now: seminary! YAY!

A Short Note To The News Media

Dear news media outlets,

First of all, I have the highest respect for you— news is important, and you bring it to me quickly and faithfully every single day. It's not easy to be The Media, and I appreciate that. But today, you and I are going to have a little disagreement, and I feel I must do my best to set you straight.

Because, you see, every single news outlet I have visited today has attempted to pour into my unsuspecting brain some tabloid trash about these two people, one "Jon" and his wife "Kate," and their seven-too-many children. Everywhere I go, headlines scream, "Kate 'hesitant to believe' Jon was unfaithful," and "'Jon and Kate' mom responds." News videos proclaim that the "story" has reached controversy level, and devote long portions to zooming in on the couple as they try very hard not to look as though they hate each other at this point.

Everywhere I go, you guys are dishing up news about Jon and Kate. And I think I speak for a large segment of the population when I say:

"Who?"

Guys, I've never watched their stupid show. I've never personally met anyone who has seen it. And to be quite frank with you, it's shows like this on the Discovery Health Channel that encourage insane people like the Octomom to pursue their dreams of discovering the maximum capacity of their uteri.

I really, really don't care about these two people. Not only do I not care— I actively request that I NOT be subjected to any more "breaking news" tidbits about their sex lives and cheating habits.

I mean, there are many more important things going on in the world. And y'know, if you WANT to talk about irrelevant news, there are much funnier tabloid-esque news stories breaking right now. Talk about THOSE STORIES.

Please. I'm not interested in these two mega-breeders. Can we stop featuring them on serious news websites?

Love and kisses,

Philosophy

Newsflash: I Am Old

Y'know what's weird? Randomly flipping through Facebook and realizing that you know a LOT of people who are mothers. A LOT. And I'm only 24 years old, and many of my friends are actually younger than I am.

And I actually know a fair number of married couples, though a lot of them are older than I. Some Vassar friends are married (and more are engaged), a few high school friends (from both high schools) are married, and some of the people from high school who made me think, "Please, God, don't ever let him/her produce spawn" ended up passing on their defective DNA to the next generation.

It's weird, sometimes, to realize that you're at an age where the people you know are slowly beginning to become their parents. I know Adam and I are fast becoming an old married couple; after he picked me up from a part-time temp job this afternoon, Adam took me for a surprise walk in the woods, then home for dinner (salad, garlic flatbread, and Crock Pot pork chops) and ice cream on the couch while watching our favorite TV shows. Tonight, after I blog, we'll go to bed. Yes, bed— at 10:30 at night.

And you know what? I fucking love it.

See, when I got married, people kept asking me if I'd miss the single life. Boys, bars, snogging boys in bars— who would want to give that up? Your twenties are supposed to be a crazy whirlwind of sex, drug, and rock n' roll, right?

But what I never really had the courage to say then was: I DON'T LIKE THAT STUFF.

That's right, guys. I hate some of that young people crap.

I hated bars, for example. In my town, they've basically become wastelands of lonely people trolling for a piece of ass— not the houses of mirth I'd always expected as a teen. I hated big parties with beer kegs and lots of people, too. I don't like crowds, and I don't like cheap beer, so why would I like those two things in any combination?

I hated exams. I hated pretending like I was interested in Aristotle. I hated staying out until 4 a.m. I hated sleeping until 2 p.m. I hated dating boring boys, and kissing boring boys. I hated playing stupid drinking games with people I barely knew in apartments I've never visited before.

I hated eating crap that was bad for me all the time. I hated being tired all the time and stressed out all the time and so tragically hip all the time. I think I was born an old woman or something, because I never really liked young person stuff. I mean, I like kids' stuff (fluffy animals and sparkly things and pretty pink ribbons, oh my!) but by the time I was a senior in college, I was pretty much done with Young Adult Stuff.

And I mean, I still like some of that traditional youth stuff— traveling, drinking wine, eating yummy food, watching movies with nekkid bits. But really, those aren't so much young, single-person activities as they are people-who-like-doing-cool-stuff activities.

So tonight, I'm gonna enjoy being an old married lady. And tomorrow, I'm going to enjoy it even more.

Adam's going to take me to a blood drive.

And I seriously can't wait.

Fat-itude, part 2

So apparently the last part of my post on fat acceptance (my conclusion, if you will) got cut off and didn't post. That's why the last sentence ended without a period, as though I had just gotten tired and stopped writing. (I've gone back and fixed it, by the way.) I noticed that this blogsite tends to do that with longer posts— Claire has had this happen with her snarks, and now it's happened to me. I only just noticed now because I physically looked at my front page instead of just clicking the email link and viewing the comments directly.

So, be aware that this was supposed to follow the original post.

At the end of the day, it’s impossible for me to really give my stamp of either approval or disapproval to this perspective. There are two main reasons for this; the first is that I’m not fat, so it would be weird for me to be able to weigh in definitively one way or the other. I mean, I can offer thoughts and bring up contrasting ideas, which I think I’ve done pretty successfully here, but I can’t condemn or applaud the cause overall, because I’ll never really understand the issue from an insider’s perspective.

It’s kind of like how it’s weird to have guys commenting on abortion, y’know? No matter how many times white men stand at podiums and tell me that abortion is a MORAL issue, and it has nothing to do with my FEELINGS, and that morality is ABSOLUTE AND UNCHANGING, at the end of the day, I’m still going to walk away in disgust, because those men will never know what it’s like to be pregnant. They’ll never know what it’s like to wait for your period with a heart full of fear, to be standing in the shower and rubbing soap over your belly and then suddenly, sickeningly, worry that something might be growing inside, something that would change your life forever. They never will grasp, personally, what it’s like to feel that way. And I’ll never know what it’s like to be fat, and so I don’t get to judge anyone for being so, either by praising them for being empowered or by scolding them for being complacent.

A second reason why I can’t make a judgment call here is because there are still too many unknowns. No one yet knows why obesity is spreading so quickly (although correlations between obesity and changes in dining habits since the 1950s often seem to make the most sense). No one really knows just what makes a person fat; we think it’s a combination of genetically determined eating and exercise habits, but what are those habits, and why do they work? We thought carbs were the culprit, so we all got excited about the Atkins diet; now, we seem to think the culprit is saturated fat, so we carefully scan food labels for that one distinct characteristic and avoid foods that might add to our waistlines. And none of it is working, because obesity just keeps increasing, year after year.

I guess the only thing I really can definitively say about fat acceptance is that it’s pretty cool to see people who want to challenge our assumptions about human nature. Even if they’re wrong about fat and its health risks or benefits it’s still nice to see people thinking, and trying to get you to think, about how we treat our neighbors. Throughout my adventures in Fat Acceptance Land, I had more of my core beliefs challenged than I ever have when doing research into political or economic issues. I spent hours thinking about the information I’d read, and ultimately encountered the awful realization that even liberal, Christian, twenty-something, college-educated women with unusual names can be boorish and ignorant and close-minded. I found disturbing similarities between the ravings of anti-gay bigots (“They’re not born that way— they made a choice!”) and my own darker thoughts on obesity, and that made me wonder— am I really all that different from the people against whom I rail on this blog?

Or is the tendency to blame, to fear, to be disgusted by difference, just a terrible part of everyone’s nature?

Fat-itude: Reflections On Fat Acceptance

After being prompted by a comment that Olivia left on one of my posts last week, I decided to check out Kate Harding's "fat acceptance" blog, Shapely Prose, to see what I thought about the "Is 'fat' a choice?" debate. It’s a fascinating subject, mostly because it’s so personal and so violently argued on both sides, but also because it doesn’t seem to divide people neatly down party or ideological lines.

But to be honest, I'm kind of unsure as to what I think. I know, I know— it's weird that I've been unable to formulate any sort of violent opinion on the matter, since usually I'm pretty good at shouting my laboriously-formed opinions at people until they either call me a bitch and leave or start crying uncontrollably.

But here, I'm unable to definitively announce whether or not I agree with these fat acceptance folks. There are so many factors in this case, and so many unknown variables, that I really can't say I agree with one side or the other.

Here are some valuable points that have been made by the fat acceptance movement:

1. Being fat is not the same thing as being lazy.

This is an assumption that annoys me when it is made about any group, because usually the people casting these aspersions are the people who are actually lazy. You've heard my rant about the way the middle and upper classes talk about poor people— you know, how we're apparently all poor because we're lazy and greedy and selfish. Meanwhile, the people saying these things are the people paying other people to clean their houses for them and make their dinners for them and watch their children for them. If you can't even be bothered to wax your own bikini line or plan your own wedding, YOU ARE THE PERSON WHO IS LAZY.

This argument extends to the "fat people are lazy" assumption. Fat people are often the ones who end up forcing themselves into ridiculous diet and exercise regiments in order to stop being fat; the slender folks like me don't always have to work as hard, either because we were taught certain eating or exercise habits from an early age, because we just have small frames, or because we just happen to love veggies and taking three-hour walks (all of which are true of me). The people who are actually working hard are the fat people, because they're trying to force themselves to do things that feel unnatural to them; naturally skinny people don't have to make such an effort.

2. It's pretty horrible how we treat fat people in this country. Well, in most of the world.

Think about the number of fat jokes you hear on the radio and on TV shows and in the movies. Think about the number of television news stories about fat people you see on a regular basis, and then reflect upon the video footage that those news stories utilize: shots of fat people that only encompass their waists, dehumanizing them into faceless bodies. I’ve always wondered about those video reels— do those people know they’re being taped? Do they know that the videographers are only panning around their waists, never interested in their faces?

I liked this passage from an article on Shapely Prose:

In any case, shaming teh fatties for being “unhealthy” doesn’t fucking help. If shame made people thin, there wouldn’t be a fat person in this country, trust me. I wish I could remember who said this, ’cause it’s one of my favorite quotes of all time: “You cannot hate people for their own good.”

Right on. Hating people for things that aren’t within their control is silly. (In fact, as a Christian, it’s kind of my duty to remind everyone that hating ANYONE is silly, even though I am often a repeat offender in this case.) I mean, I do think being fat sometimes has to do with your eating and exercise habits, but often those habits aren’t voluntary— they’re ones that were precipitated by economic status, or by errant parenting, or by an over-scheduled, over-worked lifestyle. And being mean to fat people won’t make them thin, no matter how hard you try.

3. “Fat” isn’t always the same thing as “unhealthy.”

I think this is the most helpful point of all, because it really is scary how many teenagers today think that they’re in perfect health because they’re not dangerously obese. Guys, it doesn’t matter what size you are: YOU. STILL. NEED. TO. MAKE. HEALTHFUL. CHOICES. Just because eating six Krispy Kremes at once won’t make you fat overnight doesn’t mean they won’t clog your arteries/contribute to your risk factor for diabetes/make you feel pretty friggin’ sick all day.

I feel like we give thin people a free pass to act unhealthily because we assume they’ve already attained good health in the past. It’s the same pass we give rich people— we assume that rich people must have worked hard for their money (and as a person who used to do rich people’s taxes, I can definitively respond: HA HA, YEAH RIGHT), and so they’re somehow less irresponsible when they drop $8 million for a McMansion in upstate New York. Um, ostentatious overspending is the same from every angle, folks, even if you can afford to do it.

Another quote from Shapely Prose:

Poor nutrition and a sedentary lifestyle do cause health problems, in people of all sizes. This is why it’s so fucking crucial to separate the concept of “obesity” from “eating crap and not exercising.” The two are simply not synonymous — not even close — and it’s not only incredibly offensive but dangerous for thin people to keep pretending that they are. There are thin people who eat crap and don’t exercise — and are thus putting their health at risk — and there are fat people who treat their bodies very well but remain fat. Really truly.

My favorite example of this: my sister (who is 19) and I have different body types. She is NOT FAT (in fact, she’s got a rockin’ bod), but she’s much taller and more muscular than I am, and she’s just a more normal sized person. I, on the other hand, am pretty much a fairy person, because I’m very very tiny— even my hands are smaller than a normal person’s (although I HAVE found one person with hands as small as mine: Mistress of Snark, who is also crazy tiny).

When you line the two of us up side-by-side, you might assume that I’m an anorexic health-food freak, and Tatiana eats a normal amount of healthy food for your average American diet. However, the truth is that I just ate pizza for both lunch AND dinner yesterday, and Tatiana is a vegan who does martial arts. I look like I put a lot of work into my body, but I don’t; the fact that Tatiana is healthier than I am doesn’t register with the scale, because she’s more muscular and all of my muscles have probably atrophied by now. Between the two of us, I’m the one with high cholesterol who is supposed to be avoiding whole milk and real butter. I don’t do what my doctors tell me, though, and no one gives me any flak about it, because when they see I’m thin they assume that my eating habits can’t do me any harm.

So I liked that this point was made, because a lot of pop-news stories that purportedly address “health issues” are really about weight, and weight isn't always relevant when discussing the importance of living a healthy lifestyle. EVERYONE should be eating more veggies and walking to the store, not just fat people. The fact is this: some people have different body types than other people, and that has nothing to do with whether or not they’re healthy.

But while I got a lot out of examining the fat acceptance blogs, here’s where I take issue with some of the ideas in the movement:

1. Um, being fat is NOT some sort of awesome health benefit.

My objection here stems from this paragraph on Shapely Prose:

Weight itself is not a health problem, except in the most extreme cases (i.e., being underweight or so fat you’re immobilized). In fact, fat people live longer than thin people and are more likely to survive cardiac events, and some studies have shown that fat can protect against “infections, cancer, lung disease, heart disease, osteoporosis, anemia, high blood pressure, rheumatoid arthritis and type 2 diabetes.” Yeah, you read that right: even the goddamned diabetes. Now, I’m not saying we should all go out and get fat for our health (which we wouldn’t be able to do anyway, because no one knows how to make a naturally thin person fat any more than they know how to make a naturally fat person thin; see point 4), but I’m definitely saying obesity research is turning up surprising information all the time — much of which goes ignored by the media — and people who give a damn about critical thinking would be foolish to accept the party line on fat. Just because you’ve heard over and over and over that fat! kills! doesn’t mean it’s true. It just means that people in this culture really love saying it.

If you check out the study to which this paragraph makes reference, you’ll find that fat people are more likely to survive “infections, cancer, lung disease, heart disease, osteoporosis, anemia, high blood pressure, rheumatoid arthritis and type 2 diabetes.” This does not mean that they are less likely to develop these conditions. And here’s a paragraph from Junkfood Science:

The Seven Country Study, for example, which has followed 13,000 men over the last 40 years, has found that the risks of dying from cancer and infections decrease with increasing weight. In long-term prospective studies, complications (like retinopathy) and mortality rates from type 2 diabetes are three times lower among heavier people. And people are much more likely to survive a hospitalization if they’re “overweight” than if they’re thin.

Notice how most of these studies show that you’re more likely to survive a disease if you’re fat, not less likely to contract one. And this makes sense: when my dad was hospitalized for liver disease several years ago (a disease that had nothing to do with his diet, by the way, but rather with an improperly healed oral surgery infection), he lost about a third of his entire body weight during his stay. He came home looking like a skeleton, even though before the hospitalization he had been slightly overweight. But he survived, because even after he lost all the weight due to his illness, he still had some body mass left. If I lost a third of my body weight, I’d be dead, because I'm pretty sure my organs alone account for that weight.

I’d venture to say that having more body mass is an advantage when contracting an illness because your body will still have some fat and muscle left over after the disease has passed and your body is beginning to heal. But numerous peer-reviewed studies published in the American Journal of Medicine (not what I’d call a biased source) show that “excess weight, particularly excess belly fat (adiposopathy or sick fat), contributes to the increasing prevalence of type 2 diabetes, metabolic syndrome, high blood pressure, coronary heart disease risk factors, kidney disease and the four major eye diseases, macular degeneration, glaucoma, cataracts and diabetic retinopathy.”

Sorry, but even if fatness is an inherited thing, and even if it’s not going to kill you instantly, it’s still not some fabulous health trend, which is the implication that a lot of these blogs seemed to be making. Which brings me to my next point:

2. Some people say being fat is the result of genetics. Others, though, thinl it's really is the result of poor diet and not enough exercise. Don’t you think that both of these causes could be linked and related?

I agree that you can’t lump all fat people into one broad category and assume that they’re all doing something wrong. However, it is pretty much a fact that if you eat small portions of healthy foods and get lots of exercise, you will lose some weight. You may never look like Kate Moss (in fact, I guarantee that most people won’t, unless they do a LOT of cocaine and heroin), but you will probably be thinner than you were before, even if it’s only a difference of three or four pounds.

And I agree that a person’s basic weight will probably only fluctuate between a certain pre-determined range (say, between 130 and 150 pounds, or between 175 and 200 pounds), but I don’t think that pre-determined range is necessarily inevitable, and I don’t think it’s really a bad thing to try and stay on the low end of that range. People who are naturally thin are usually that way because they naturally do things that keep them that way, and it doesn’t usually hurt to try and adopt some of the healthier techniques that are subconsciously employed by these people.

I mean, look at the study that Kate Harding references here, about trying to make thin people fat. When the thin people in the study were forced to eat 10,000 calories per day and not exercise, they gained weight. However, they lost all that weight back— AFTER THE STUDY WAS OVER. This doesn’t mean it’s impossible to make a thin person fat— it means that these thin people naturally did things that kept them thin, and that when the study was over, they reverted back to those ingrained activities. If you could somehow condition them to ignore their impulses and abstain from these subconscious weight-maintenance techniques, you could indeed induce them to gain— and keep on— weight.

For example, researchers have found that naturally thin people tend to be so because they have a gene that causes them to be more restless (and therefore to move more frequently and burn more calories). They aren’t just thin because their bodies are somehow molded into this rigid, unchangeable form; they’re thin because they get more exercise, even though that exercise is unintentional and/or subconscious.

But see, all this doesn’t mean that fat people who don’t have the gene INEVITABLY CANNOT LOSE WEIGHT. All it means is that they have to compensate more in order to be less fat (even if they will never be teeny tiny). I mean, I was born with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay if I wake up my neighbors with my loud television just because I HAD to have the volume on 48 or else some horrible thing would happen. It actually just means I have to keep those impulses under control, so that I’m not doing things that are hazardous to myself or to other people.

Everyone is born with some sort of disadvantage. Sometimes, though, it’s workable, and I think chronic obesity is kind of like that. You may never be a pixie, but you might be able to lose ten pounds if you adopt certain techniques.

(If you’re interested in the correlation between lifestyle and obesity, see Morgan Spurlock’s excellent and disturbing film Super Size Me.)

3. The obesity epidemic isn’t, like, some sort of irrational public panic type of deal. It’s real, and it’s documented. And by the way, the CDC and the AMA are not what I would call “biased sources.”

It’s pretty dangerous to deny that the obesity epidemic is reaching ridiculous proportions (har har). I mean, Shapely Prose mocks the seriousness of the epidemic constantly:

If you scratch an article on the obesity! crisis! you will almost always find a press release from a company that’s developing a weight loss drug — or from a “research group” that’s funded by such companies.

Well, I suppose that’s true of those fluff-news stories with headlines like “How to lose weight at the office!” or “Why being fat could cost you your job.” But the actual STUDIES that demonstrate the rampant increase in obesity worldwide are put out by such sketchy, fly-by-night enterprises as the CDC, the Archives of Internal Medicine, and the World Health Organization.

These aren’t advertisers or product developers; these are scholarly or government organizations dedicated to public health. Seriously, guys. Doctors are smart.

I say the same thing to conservatives who claim that the mainstream media isn't reporting the important news: guys, sometimes the mainstream media isn't reporting it because it's not true.

4. Just because the obesity crisis is challenging to solve doesn’t mean it’s impossible. You don’t get to say, “Well, even if this whole thing were real, we couldn’t do anything about it.” That’s lame AND unimaginative.

It's strange to me when people say, “Well, even if you ARE right, there’s nothing we can do about it.” That’s laziness, folks. And it’s not very clever, either.

Shapely Prose makes this point:

Given that diets don’t work in the long-term for the vast, vast majority of people, even if obesity in and of itself were a health crisis, how the fuck would you propose we solve it?

Oh, I don’t know…teach kids about nutrition from an early age so that they’re eating healthily because they want to and not because they’re trying to force themselves to do something they hate? Encourage people to get more exercise by walking and using stairs more often instead of shelling out cash to join gyms that they force themselves to visit, thereby making themselves feel as though exercise is a punishment instead of an invigorating, simple treat? Force health food companies to offer healthy foods at cheaper prices and in a wider variety of locations? Discourage fast food chains and other restaurants from offering large portion sizes and sugar/salt/calorie-infused meals?

Don’t look at me with those wide, innocent eyes— there are plenty of things we can do to keep ourselves healthy. And since the goal of many of these steps would be better public health.