Floriduh.

I should just preface every entry with "sorry that I haven't written..blah blah blah." It will just save time. In fact, that reminds me of a joke--a man wakes up in the morning, turns to his wife, and says, "I'm sorry." Whatever he is going to do throughout the course of the day, he is just going to make amends before it even happens. That being said...

I'm currently in Florida, visiting my family and friends--kissing my niece and nephews to no end :) My mom, sister and I took the two little ones (Isabelle and Andrew) to Disney World (Magic Kingdom) and had a blast! The kids were absolutely amazing--they didn't cry or anything--in all actuality, it was Melissa and I who were put into a bad mood :)

Just before Christmas, Melissa rented Twilight and fell in love with it...I know, hold your vomit. So she and her husband read all of the books and was waiting patiently so that she could see New Moon in theatres. When you have three children, ages 1-6, it's rather difficult to get anywhere, especially a movie theatre to watch a Tweeny Twilight movie. When I arrived, the first thing I HAD to do was watch Twilight. It was okay--the acting wasn't terribly amazing (despite all the MTV Movie Awards it received...) and Rob Pattz had some weird eyebrow thingy going on. She left the book on the floor for me to read--I was up late after watching the movie that I started reading it. GOOD GOD is that terrible writing! I counted 7 adverbs in one sentence! OI VEY! It really is amazingly awful. So the next night Melissa, Tim and I went off to see New Moon, which was considerably better than the first one--K Stewart looked much better in this one and R Pattz's eyebrows looked better (ha! this is my review of a movie?! hehehe). The acting was better in this one too. After the movie, I went to Famous Faces and Funnies for game night and saw some friends I haven't seen in years. I'm glad I got to see Val, my bestest of besties :) (Have I resorted to being a 7th grader?? Fucking Twilight..)

Another reason it was important to make this trip to Florida--aside from the weather being amazingly wonderful--was that my step-sister Becky and her family were moving to Japan. Becky had a baby boy, Brayden, in June and I hadn't met him (due to the fact that I was poor over the summer and then school was happening in the Fall). So I got to meet him before they all set off for Japan. I told Beck that when I'm in Korea, I'll make the hour plane ride to come visit and I fully intend to keep that promise.

We leave tomorrow to return to the Great White Midwest and while I'm anxious for this last semester of school to start, I wish I could have had more time to spend with my Dad, my friends, and of course, these munchkins.

All in all, it was a great week.

So yeah...there is no poetic epiphany...James Joyce would be disappointed...but what else is new?

2010--The Year of the Tiger, and by Tiger, I Mean Culmination

HAPPY NEW YEAR!! (Nic and Chris before we hit up Brando's)


Hey Folks.

Apologies for being so silent since November. I have been up to my ears in school work, Holidays, new computers and dear friends visiting. You understand, right?

I finished this past term with a 3.8, and my cumulative gpa is a 3.24 :) It was, by far, my best semester (4 A's, 1 B). I finished up working at The Macy's on December 27th, which couldn't have ended at a better time. One of my best friends came to visit for New Years Eve. Hrm...whatelse? OH! I bought myself a MacBook Pro :) Picture me beeming and you're still nowhere near how happy I am about this computer. This amazing piece of machinery is replacing my old Dell laptop. When I bought the Dell 4 years ago, I really wanted the Mac but I just couldn't afford it. I saw so many people getting Apple Store Credit Cards to pay for them and others who just bought them because they could. I was jealous (see Entry #1) but I worked hard (at getting a school loan-THANKS MOM!) and now I have the computer of my dreams. Okay, okay. So I got a private school loan to help pay for it---but the Dell was on her last limbs and I needed a computer for when I went to China in the Spring and Korea in the Fall.

But enough about me...let's talk turkey--2009 is over.

Many people posted on facebook the words, "2009 sucked!" I don't agree at all. Sometimes it's hard to see how things are when we're going through them and to judge them too early is simply unfair. Sure, many things may have gone stupidly wrong for these outspoken individuals but to place blame on an entire year--I dunno. It certainly sucked for Celebrities...no one knew who was dying next. If 2009 were to suck, and that is a huge if, it is because we lost so many dear people. You all know my reasons for lifting up Teddy Kennedy, so we won't have to go through that. 2009 brought in a lot of changes.... Some where better than others, for sure. But we wouldn't be where we are now without them. You take the good with the bad and hopefully you come out rather even. No matter the status of 2009, I just hope that this year will be better than the last.

And so, 2010--what sort of year will you turn out to be? These things cannot be determined at this time but it is a new chance to bring happiness to ourselves and others. And I think that we as a society are in love with that possibility. So g'head. Be in love. Have fun. Smile. And if you can, write about it :)


And on that note--the NY Resolutions:

1. Write at least once a day.
2. Lose weight instead of gain weight :)
3. Be thankful for the blessings I have received so that I may bless someone else. (While we should always be thankful, sometimes I am caught up in myself).
4. Have an amazing school year (okay, it's not so much of a resolution but it's something I need to do)
5. Knit a hat and mittens before the year is over.
6. Go to church a bit more regularly.
7. Read. Write. Repeat.

I suppose that is it for now. We'll see how I do a bit later :)

Well peeps, it's a lame post but I owe you something. So there it is.

Happy New Year and make it your own!

Cheers!!

Accepting Acceptance

School has overtaken my life. And some how, I'm rather okay with that.

I have spent years of my life thinking I wasn't smart enough--not pretty enough--just never enough, for whatever this world had in store for me.

Melissa, my sister and best friend, was the smart one. I remember when she was in high school and all these advertisements were sent to our house---"Come to our College" they would collectively say. Melissa had a good head on her shoulders but she was lacking in the trust fund department. So she did what most high school graduates did in Brevard County--she went to B.C.C. Brevard Community College, we were told, was a great school and it was just a stepping stone to go on to a four year college or university. That is, if you ever made it out of there with a degree. A lot of people stopped after a while--the Shea girls were no exception. Melissa had but one class to take to get her Associates degree...one...that's all. She's been out of school for over ten years now--she's gotten married, has three beautiful kids, a house, two cars, and just one class to take.

When I was in high school....
...let's just say that I wasn't on the honor roll. I barely passed. It was all because of Math (well, my inability to understand and prove mathematical theorems). But it was my senior year and I was going to have fun with my friends, not worry about college because I assumed that while I was a less than stellar student, some college would be fighting its way into my mailbox to say that they were "so happy they found me, would I please go to their school." Those letters never came.

After high school I did a whopping two semesters at B.C.C. before I stopped going to school entirely. I was burnt out--I didn't know what I wanted to do anymore and I was getting terrible grades. I did well in the classes that I had some sort of interest in, but the rest of them could fuck off, as far as I was concerned. So I stopped going to school and I worked for a while. And I moved around for a bit. Out of my Dad's house in Indian Harbour Beach to my sister's place in West Palm Beach. From one family member to another---I became "that person." I left West Palm after two years to move out to California. I stayed with a friend and her parents for two months and realized this just wasn't the state for me. I made leaps and bounds for getting out of a red state, to live a red house in a blue state. This is not to say that living with my friend's family was like being on Crossfire...it wasn't. I just knew I didn't belong there--and I missed my family. I remember the call I made to my mom, who was living in Naperville, Illinois at the time.

I told her that I didn't want to go back to Florida--it would only be a step back. She bought me a one way ticket on Southwest Airlines for $53 from San Diego to Chicago on the condition that I get back into school. It took about a year and a half or so for that condition to iron itself out. I was frightened of going back to school. It wasn't about being so much older than many of the students--it was the anxiety of "what if I choose the wrong profession?" One of the conditions of living at my mother's house was that I HAD to go to church. It was not an option. I tried to get out of it many times--more because of the oppressive nature of this requirement rather than my belief in God. In all of these things, the only thing that was constant was my faith. So I started small when I went back--taking a religion course, a business course, an English course and a course on Alfred Hitchcock's movies.

I went to College of DuPage for two years--during which I had this insane notion to move to my favorite city in all of the world--Boston. I went to visit my family there and checked out Simmons College, in hopes of getting into the Ivy League of Women's Colleges. I was plotting out this move with a friend of mine and there was some question as to whether she would be able to go or not. Boston has been my dream city since I was a little girl. I knew I couldn't afford it on my own so I thought that I had better come up with a back up plan.

During the school year, a representative of Roosevelt University in Chicago had called me and said that I was eligible to get a scholarship of 5K if I went to RU. The day that I applied for Roosevelt to be my back up school is the day that my friend im'ed me, telling me she couldn't go to Boston. About a month later, I was driving to the airport to visit my family in Florida and I got a call from Roosevelt, inviting me to enroll in the university. I got in. Somebody wanted me. I still hadn't heard from Simmons but I decided to throw caution to the wind and take the scholarship and the hand that Roosevelt was offering. A month and a half later, Simmons wrote me a letter. They accepted me too.

Because I had already taken RU up on their offer, I respectfully declined to attend Simmons. I know now that I made the best decision. I transferred on to Roosevelt University--I have over a 3.0 gpa and I've realized that I'm rather smart. Sure I'm 30 and I'm getting my Bachelors in English with a minor in Women and Gender Studies in the Spring...but I earned it. That is mine.

In all of this, I have realized that I wasn't stupid before. I just didn't know what I wanted or what wanted me.

My mom says that some people are late bloomers...perhaps she is right. And as the Radiohead song suggests, "everything's in its right place."

Random Acts of Value

I apologize, my dear readers, for my silence as of late. Midterms seemed to kill all creative juices and I couldn't really write about anything. Perhaps that's not true, but that is the story I'm sticking to because it's the one I'm choosing to tell.

Truth be told, I haven't really been motivated to write much of anything--I have had no real epiphanies to report, no new found information, no single ray of light emitting from God's Mighty Hand to enlighten me--to instruct me. I won't call it writer's block...I'll call it life. Life happens just as much as shit does. And Boy does shit ever happen.

I finished this novel by Margaret Atwood called "The Handmaid's Tale" and it scared the shit outta me--everywhere I look I am reminded of the oppression that permeates from a patriarchal society. Carrie was right, once you see the world through a Feminist's eyes, you can never go back. It's now become this Albatross that hangs around my neck like a noose---slowly tightening with each passing second. I didn't see it before, and I certainly didn't feel it. The nerve endings have awoken--a mixture of strength and fear. And I'm searching for the knife in my boot to cut it off--wishing someone would do it for me.

I came across this website last night: http://www.girleffect.org/ Go check it out. Do it now. I'll wait.

Do you know what my favorite part is? When she goes to the village council and she tells them that all girls are valuable.
Let it sink in.
Valuable.
Main Entry: 1valu·able
Pronunciation: \ˈval-yə-bəl, -yə-wə-bəl, -yü-ə-\
Function: adjective
Date: circa 1576

1 a : having monetary value b : worth a good price
2 a : having desirable or esteemed characteristics or qualities b : of great use or service
Function: noun
Date: circa 1775

: a usually personal possession (as jewelry) of relatively great monetary value —usually used in plural

We once only fell under the first definitions: "Worth a good price" and "Personal Possession." I don't want to be these kinds of valuable--to be someone's personal property, to fit on his arm like a jewel or a trophy. This brand of value is something that will most surely depreciate. This is a KIA--a vehicle that will be worth nothing once it is driven off the lot.
Now, this second meaning--"having desirable or esteemed characteristics or qualities," it seems rather problematic. Are not all people, by this definition, valuable? If they are, why do we allow certain people who love each other to marry and yet others are denied that right? Why do we fight in silly wars? Why do we murder? Steal? Covet? Why do we oppress Women? Children? People who are different from us? Where is the value in all of this?

This week for my Women's Autobiography: A Narrative Scandal class, we read Dorothy Allison's "Two or Three Things I Know For Sure" and I finished that 94 page book in a matter of hours. I consumed it--or maybe it consumed me. If you haven't read it yet, go pick it up--or perhaps I'll let you borrow it, if you ask me nicely. One of the italicized portions was this: "Two or three things I know for sure, and one of them is that if we are not beautiful to each other, we cannot know beauty in any form." I sat and pondered this for a while after I finished the book. It's a perfect thought. And I thought about how if I changed it by removing beauty and adding a form of "value," that it would be just as true.

So I'm telling you here and now. I value you. I may never meet you. I may never shake your hand, kiss your lips, feel your touch. But I value you. Never stop fighting. Never give up. And never let them take you alive. Nolite te bastardes carborundorum.

The Power of a Book

This weekend is the last hurrah.

I start my new weekend job at Macy's for the Holiday season (and hopefully longer)this upcoming Saturday and it couldn't come at a better time. I have a paper due tomorrow, a midterm in my Crime in Victorian Literature class on Tuesday, and a French midterm on Wednesday. I have had many tutoring sessions in the past two weeks as well--it is the midterm crunch time.

I have been searching for a job since the beginning of Summer and I finally got a call back from the retail giant. My funds have seriously depleted and I was in dire need of rent money. Prayers were answered and I got the job on the day that I had my interview. Hallelujah!

For my Women and Gender Studies class, my professor requires her students to go out and do a bit of activism in the name of Feminism. I was all to happy too do this and when I found out that I could participate with my friend Sadie, I was even more elated. Sadie and I figured out where we wanted to volunteer for a day, picked a time, and off we went. We decided on an organization called Chicago Books to Women in Prison. These men and women come together every Sunday from 2pm to 5 pm and answer requests from women who are incarcerated in various prisons in eight states. I was excited at the opportunity to help out but I had no idea how it would effect me.

I did my best to fulfill their requests--some were probably more accurate than others--but with each one that I did, I felt a connection with the woman for whom I was choosing books. On each order, I put a personal note, saying that I hope they enjoyed the books. If I happened to pick something from an author that I really liked, I mentioned that as well. Some of the requests were more specific than others--I recall one said that she would like to have some sort of erotica because she can be so lonely "here." No matter what she did to get in there--my heart went out to her. It wasn't until now that I completely understood the power of a book.

I have always loved books. They were often my best friends and I used to cry when a series was over because it was the equivalent of my friends moving away, and all I had left were the memories that I could relive if I wanted to--sometimes I did. Sometimes I didn't. Books were uplifting to me. But I never once thought how it would be for a person who is shut off from society. I've certainly had my anti-social moments, but that pales in comparisons to what those who are incarcerated feel.

I had a great Sunday---and I hope you did as well. If you would like to seek more information about Chicago Books to Women in Prisons, you can find it at their website here: http://chicagobwp.org/about-us/

Elizabeth's Song

For the past five years I have teetered back and forth from wanting to be a writer to wanting to be a singer. As it stands, I am not musically inclined with the exception of my voice. I have a very good voice and I love to sing. Last year my friend Ryan asked me to sing for his band/project called Sunday Mourning Call and while my friends all told me not to get my hopes up, I did--I was getting my chance to sing. Well Ryan and I got busy doing other things and that was that.
A couple of weeks ago, he text messaged me saying that he had something he wanted to work on with me. I was intrigued, to say the least. And I laughed a little--because every time I set my course starboard side, something was always pulling me to port. I had come to grips that all I really want to do is get my MFA (after my time at Roosevelt, of course) and teach writing while perfecting the craft myself. And here it was again--the zany idea of singing, fluttering like a butterfly in front of my face. So I played along and followed the white rabbit down the hole.

Ryan and I made plans and met up to work on a song he'd written. I was so elated to be singing until I found out the reason why we were combining our efforts on this project. He had written a song for his co-worker. Actually, for his co-worker's daughter, Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was born in a troubled state--amongst other health problems, she has a severe case of Cerebral Palsy and it broke Ryan's heart to not be able to say more than a "sorry" to her mother. Elizabeth is still in the hospital and her family (mom, dad and older sister) are staying in a Ronald McDonald house so that they can stay near to little Elizabeth.
I was completely humbled by her parents strength and Ryan's compassion for his friend and her family.
Ryan and I recorded a rough demo of the song and it's now up on the band's myspace page. http://www.myspace.com/sundaymourningcall

If you take a listen to "Elizabeth's Song," you'll also see another song I sang on with Ryan called "Heaven Knows I'm Afraid." Let us know what you think of them--but be advised that little Elizabeth's song is not completely finished--we have more lyrics we're going to put on it and we have to fix some sharp notes as well :)

I don't normally promote myself so shamelessly, but there's always a first for everything!

xox

The Search for Real Women

What is a "Real Woman?" No, really. It's not rhetorical--I really would like to know.

The question reminds me of a scene from The Cohen Brother's movie, "The Big Lebowski" when Mr. Lebowski asks The Dude "What makes a Man?"

The Big Lebowski: What makes a man, Mr. Lebowski?
The Dude: Dude.
The Big Lebowski: Huh?
The Dude: Uhh... I don't know sir.
The Big Lebowski: Is it being prepared to do the right thing, whatever the cost? Isn't that what makes a man?
The Dude: Hmmm... Sure, that and a pair of testicles.

All joking aside.

On Monday I was waiting to meet with a professor and I happened to be looking at the bulletin board outside of her office when something caught my eye. I saw an casting call for Dove's "Real Women" campaign and I thought, "Wow! How cool!" Then I started to read it.

It said that it was looking for "Real Women. 25-32 years old. Thin (under size 10)and naturally attractive." They also mentioned that they were only looking for women who were Caucasian, Asian, Hispanic, or a mixture of these. While they were looking for all types of hair (textures and colors), the ad also said they wanted healthy hair that they could "improve." They stressed they wanted "REAL WOMEN" not "aspiring models." So is that what makes a real woman?

Up until this point I had been really proud of Dove and it's sense of urgency to represent all women--not just the models. We've all seen these commercials:


or even this one:



I understand the importance of these ads. I really do. And I agree with most of the Dove Films I've seen but seeing this casting call--it really makes me feel like it's all a lie---all of the girls portrayed are "normal." Some talk about how the girls feel that they can't be themselves or no one will talk to them because they are "fat" (apparently one was anorexic and suddenly gained friends after she dropped some weight--though no pictures are shown of her being fat). I just don't believe it anymore. It's not real. I'm not saying they aren't real young women. I am saying that there are real women who don't fit into that stupid casting call advertisement. Being a woman has nothing to do with your size, nothing to do with your looks, nothing to do with your race.

So what does make a real woman? Something more than Dove has to offer.