Humanity

Not feeling particularly confident about the state of humanity lately. 

San Diego's fire season started in May. We were supposed to be unhappily stuck in May Gray, but there wasn't been a cloud in the sky for days. Santa Ana winds - pretty uncommon this early in the year - removes what remaining moisture we had in the air. San Diego battled 9 separate fires. Again, in May. We've had bigger fires before, and worse fire conditions for sure, but I don't know that there's ever been this many fires burning at once. And the scarier part is all of these fires are in highly populated areas. These aren't out in the boonies fires, burning acres of brush and threatening a handful of homes and structures on the edges of civilization - these are threatening thousands of homes and dozens of communities. Schools are closed. People aren't driving.

Oh, and we don't have any water to fight all these fires because we're in an unprecedented, historical drought. So that's awesome.

Meanwhile, Colorado and other states still had snow. IN MAY. Hurricane season is practically lasting all year, tornadoes are getting more destructive, and we're seeing record breaking weather every single season in all parts of the world. Coastal communities are already having to deal with rising waters, scooting their structures back. New Jersey already has regulations in place for new construction due to the rising waters and frequent storms.

But somehow, SOMEHOW, there's still doubt as to whether climate change is real, whether our activities are having an effect on the world's climate. It's not just that the ice caps in the arctic circle are melting thousands of miles away, affecting some sorry polar bear and human populations we don't really care about. This is what climate change looks like. We're living it right now, yet we're sticking our heads in the sand, going "weeeeeelllll I don't know."

We're still mining the earth for coal (awful) and stones (stupid), and then are shocked at safety violations when mines collapse and kill dozens or hundreds. We're still bringing new oil pipelines across our lands after SO MANY of them have burst and destroyed the environments they inhabit, not to mention the people that live there. We're watching elephants disappear before our very eyes so we can sell their teeth and use the money to fund terrorist groups that kidnap thousands of school kids, selling them to slavery, turning them into prostitutes, or forcing them to become soldiers. We're auctioning off the opportunity for some rich fuck to kill an endangered rhino to "save the species" (how?) for not even much money - $300,000, not even half a million - and we have no idea that money will ever see a conservation group. 

Women around the world, including right here in the United States, fear for their lives every single day. Around the world, women get raped all the time and authority figures do nothing. That happens sometimes here, too - and women learn to stay quiet about assault and abuse because it only makes it worse to say anything. And the rest of us wonder if today will be the day some spurned boy decides to bring a gun into public because he's lonely. Or whether we're wearing anything too revealing (because that's asking for it), or if we'll be safe in a group  or safe walking home.

We're also putting kids in jail for having some weed, or for shoplifting (usually something minor), and then acting amazed when those kids get out and turn into adults who end right back up in jail. And kid jail isn't a rehabilitation facility - it's intense adult prison where the same rapes and same solitary confinement happens. To kids. Kids who may have been abused by their parents and acted out, or kids raised in deplorable conditions, or maybe even just kids who were shit heads. But kids who said goodbye to life before their teenage years were over.

Instead or actively working on solving any of these very important issues, we're talking about how some high profile newsroom editor (a woman, because this discussion doesn't exist for male editors) is "not very approachable." We're oggling celebrities who decide to not put on makeup to go to Starbucks. We're getting offended when a football rookie celebrates success with a kiss. We're listening to high profile bigots bitch about black people to black people (but we're not doing anything about it). We're closing abortion clinics because abortion is icky (except when we need one). We're arguing about whether marriage should be allowed for certain people. 

Seems like there are way more important things to worry about than the things we pay attention to. But we don't seem to care.

Living in Sin

In less than 10 hours I'll be picking up a U-Haul, filling two adult-who-has-lived-alone-apartments of stuff, and depositing it all in one place. After a year spending pretty much every night together, a year spending every night together, and a few weeks of can-the-cat-and-I-live-with-you-while-my-apartment-is-a-plumber's-nightmare, the boyfriend and I are moving in together. Officially.

The subject of moving in together came up around month 8 of our relationship (move in day, tomorrow, marks month 25). My roommate had just let it slip that he would eventually be moving in with her boyfriend (or was he fiancé by then?), not in San Diego. Being the ever eager apartment hunter I am, I was browsing craigslist one night when the boyfriend looked over my shoulder and said, "you know, you could just move in with me."

It wasn't a total shock. As far as having the major conversations went, we'd established that the future was real pretty much right away. But at less than a year of dating I could only imagine trying to explain that one to family. Plus, there were other reasons I didn't want to move in to his place, the main one being that when I lived with a boyfriend I wanted it to be a place we got together, that didn't previously belong to either of us. We spent the next year discussing this. The biggest hurdle was the boyfriend doesn't rent - he joint owns his place, so it wasn't going to be as simple as giving a 30-day notice and there were two others who had a say in things.

One day a few months ago we decided we've move in together in the fall, after wedding season is over for photographer boyfriend and the weather cools down a bit. Plus, it would be great to be looking after the new students were settled so we wouldn't have competition. But then my apartment exploded, and I pretty much moved myself and the cat in with the boyfriend and the dog, so we decided to start looking. I don't think either of us were expecting to find a place we loved so quickly, but we jumped on it. And tomorrow we get to call it home.

Unfortunately for us, the weather not only has not cooled down at all, it's hotter than ever. Our "relief" that the weather stations have been talking about is a measly 2-3 degrees, which is still in the 80s. Fortunately for us, since I've been pretty much living at his place for the last few weeks, the cat and dog are learning to co-exist. Chloe accidentally occupies a space close to Argo on occasion, but rather than immediately hissing and running away like she used to, she's been hanging out, if only for a few minutes. Chloe is a pro at moving and adjusts almost immediately to a new home, but this will be Argo's first move. Tomorrow will be an interesting day!

Changes

The last few weeks have been quite a whirlwind of downs and ups and things that would be so frustrating if they weren't a little funny.

First off, the cat and dog have been living together. Mostly unhappily...

August started with my two year anniversary with the boyfriend (aww). We went to a sushi restaurant in La Jolla that I had a Groupon for, and it was underwhelming. The atmosphere was nice, and going somewhere we've never been before was fun, but the sushi is way better in North Park. Which actually is great, because we eat at one of three nearby sushi places every week, and it's nice to know that we're getting the best without paying an arm and a leg or driving 20 minutes each way. We walked the long way back to the car and stopped at a little cafe that had cakes for dessert.

The very next day was his bff's birthday, so we went to a pizza/beer place, where we met some random southerners who were in San Diego before going to Vegas for a gay wedding. We stayed up late, ate burritos, and fell asleep on the couch until the very early hours of the morning. The day after that I was supposed to go to a meet up with my coworkers, partly because our boss was presenting, but my throat had been hurting all day and I had a mini anxiety attack when I got home from work; the thought of skipping it made me calm down. So I did and spent the evening cleaning my apartment and made one of my night-by-myself dinners. The next day I got a call from a fraud center informing me my debit card was stolen (even though it was still in my wallet). There were four attempts from Honolulu to Baltimore of someone using my card, and one was successful to the tune of $76 - at a Food Maxx in Union City. I went to my credit union to fill out a fraud affidavit (at, like, 515 on a Friday) and raced back home because my mom was in town for a visit... waiting in her car.

Over the weekend my sore throat turned into a full blown cold, but we pretty much spent the whole time at the beach and that made it a lot less severe. We hiked Torrey Pines one day and walked from Torrey Pines to La Jolla Shores the next (I stepped on a bee and got stung on my foot and got to experience seeing a whole lot of old man penis with my mother). Oh, and a pipe beneath my room sprung a leak and we came back Saturday night to discover my carpet was all wet. That awesomeness is in much more detail here.

The boyfriend and I had been talking about living together for a little over a year and had recently decided to aim for the fall, after wedding season was over and he had more time to devote to the process. The ordeal with my apartment made us decide to move that up, so we spent the next week on Craigslist, emailing our favorite listings to each other. We also took a couple nights after work to drive around our target neighborhood looking for rent signs and made a few appointments to see apartments.

On one such night I got a call from my gynecologist - I had a yeast infection (fucking antibiotics) and something known as LGSIL - a low grade lesion. This can be caused by HPV. I got the Guardasil shot series after breaking up with the first person I'd had sex with but Guardasil doesn't protect from all forms of HPV - or cervical cancer. Soooo there's that. Now I get to have a colposcopy (where they go in to the cervix with a flashlight and scalpel) and a biopsy. The chances of this being anything more than a random lump is super small, and it will very likely just go away on its own in a year or two. However, now I've had an abnormal PAP and need them every year rather than every two. It was weird though, hearing the doctor say the word cancer. She told me that most women don't know they have cervical cancer because there are no outward symptoms (I wouldn't have felt this lesion), which is why PAPs are so important.

The rest of the week was full of apartment hunting. One night we went to see a place in our second choice neighborhood, which was right by a dog park. Long-story-full-of-emails-back-and-forth-short: we loved it, applied for it and got it! Deposit is sent, lease is signed, and in a few weeks we'll be living together. I didn't expect the boyfriend to be as excited and enthusiastic about moving and living together as he's been since we got the official notice, because the next month or two are going to be much more complicated for him than they are for me. He owns his condo, which means he'll have to rent it out and all of the responsibilities that come with that. On the other hand, I'm super grateful that he's willing to do this to live with me and to live in an area that's close to my work. In the long run I believe it will be beneficial for us both (extra income and a shorter commute for him, an area I already love by work for me), but the initial effort is definitely more one sided.

Days after we got official notice of the new apartment I had my year review at my company. My boss shared with me his vision for the company, told me he wants to support those who share his vision (which I do completely), and gave me a huge vote of confidence in the form of a high profile client. After years of odd-jobs that were fun and other jobs that sucked, I'm so happy to be in a solid position in a company that is not just doing well but has plans for the future, and a company that has a future for me.

So, after more than a week of downs-that-weren't-that-bad, I had more than a week of ups-that-were-amazing. And the next month or two will certainly be stressful and life changing, but they'll also be exciting and happy. I can't wait.

A Leak

At the end of a week that just didn't want to give any breaks (and the end of 9 months of apartment issues), my apartment sprung a leak.

It was a Friday night, my mom was visiting, and we'd had sushi and wine. The boyfriend stood next to my bed and told me the floor was really warm. Unusually warm. I shrugged it off - my apartment is always unusually warm and there's a spot in the bathroom that's always really warm (the cat loves it). On Saturday night he goes to put on his pajama pants, but they're wet - and my carpet is wet. And very warm. And the legs on my wooden bookshelf have visible water damage. Excellent.

We slept on couches in the living room, the recent sinkholes in the news on our minds and the slight fear we'd wake up in a lake, but in the morning my room was still there and only slightly more damp. My apartment manager came over to inspect and let me know best and worst case scenarios, both of which included excavation. So Sunday night I took the cat to the boyfriend's, along with what I'd need for the next couple of days, and left my apartment.

This happened.

And this.

And this.

The water pipe for my whole complex, which traveled under the concrete in my room and through the footing of the whole building, had a leak. They had to shut off all water for two days and the hot water for one night, giving my neighbors zero notice. It's been 10 days and 11 nights so far for me - I stopped by almost every day to grab the mail and check up on things and ended up talking to the plumbers a few times; I learned this had happened before, apparently in the exact same spot. 

There is some discoloration next to the new concrete, which I think is the evidence of a past leak. Oh, and now I have to clean my tub because they turned on the faucet and it ran brown water and no one rinsed it out.

Also, there was a large dip in the asphalt in the alley, right behind my parking space, that had suddenly appeared. It was annoying but I hadn't paid much attention to it because the whole alley is in desperate need of repaving. But it was deep enough and at the worst angle for getting in and out of my spot that I was a little concerned I'd pop a tire. But no worries, now that's fixed.

My room? 

Still got that little hole. And this is the state of my furniture:

My bed is in three different parts, in three different parts of the apartment. 

This was taken the day after my apartment manager told me I could go back to my apartment. Um, no. Also, it still looks like this 9 days later.

It might come as little surprise, then, that I'm moving! The cat and I have been staying with the boyfriend and the dog for the last week and a half, and I kind of don't even want to go back. There is so much cleaning that needs to happen before I'll feel comfortable sleeping there again, and it'd be far too much effort to clean that much only to move in two weeks. But I will right my bed... it'll be harder to sell like that.

Why The World Might Actually End

End of the world prophesies and predictions are everywhere these days and each one passes as if nothing changed. And that's because nothing has changed. But I'm beginning to think it's not really that far off.

Our ethics and morals the world over are fucked. This might not come as news for a lot of people, but the part that scares me the most is that we know our ethics and morals are fucked, but we're doing absolutely nothing about it.

We think saving the planet is weak.

Possibly the most important thing for us as a species to be concerned about is the planet we live on because, despite what movies predict, we won't be inhabiting the moon or mars or the space station or anything other than this one planet we have. I mean, maybe in a few thousand years. But not before then, if ever. So it would make sense to recognize that we don't really have a choice but to be good stewards of the planet. It would also be awesome to not be so goddamn self centered and think about what those future generations are going to deal with, but I do realize that's asking a lot. For whatever reason.

Thing is, though, we're not just protecting the planet for our great grandchildren, or our grandchildren, or even our children. We're not getting out of our very own lives without some serious consequences. Not just if we don't start protecting it now. It's already too late. It's very, very likely I'll never see a wild elephant. In a few years they'll be extinct in the wild, and while elephants can be reintroduced into the wild eventually, too much has to change for that to be a viable option. War has ravaged their habitat for decades - that's not just going to stop because elephants need to be reintroduced. The demand for ivory has only been growing (which infuriates me to no end - there truly are no words to describe my anger at a whole generation of people whose frivolous purchases fuel murders and extinctions), and as soon as elephants are back on the market they'll be poached before they can reproduce. We'll also lose the Arctic circle, which means bye-bye polar bears. Because the planet is warming every year the ice will never return, which means reintroduction of anything in that area is impossible.

We blame unpopular victims.

It seems like the whole world has adopted a boys will be boys attitude about how we treat our fellow people. I don't know if I've just been paying more attention the last couple years, but it seems like more and more high profile people are raping and getting away with it. Raping students, raping children, raping and taking pictures. And it's ok, cause no one calls them out. No one punishes them. It's no big deal. 

And you know what we do then? We blame the victim. Woman out at a bar gets raped? Shouldn't have worn whatever it was that she wore. Woman walking home alone gets raped? Shouldn't have been out alone. Woman with her friend on a bus? Shouldn't have had a vagina. Seriously, that's all it is. It should not matter how much the girl was "asking for it" with her clothes or actions or existence. When did simply having a vagina come to mean you are a receptacle for everyone else's whims? Why on earth does it matter what a woman wore to a club on the night she was raped? Why does it matter that she had sex with someone else the night before? Why does it matter that she consented before that one time? Why do we argue whether or not it was rape if she was passed out? Or too drunk to stand? Or she agreed at the bar but changed her mind at home? How desperate do boys have to be to think that all of those situations equal legitimate sex? Are they afraid of rejection? Do they feel entitled because they got her a cab? Do they really believe we ask for it? I used to love wearing overalls when I was a kid (and in high school... shut up, it was cool). But I was told to be careful when wearing them because the back strap was easy to cut with scissors and all a rapist would have to do is yank them down, and it'd be just like I was wearing a skirt. I was literally told I could be raped for wearing overalls.

We tax the poor.

At least in America we argue over who should be taxed and how much everyone should pay. I'm not willing (or able) to get into the details of the tax exemptions that expired at the beginning of the year or how that will affect me and the rest of the country (partially because I haven't seen an effect yet), but I do know that the vast majority of Americans will take home less money right when many of us were thinking we were home free. It's been a true struggle for years for all of us and most people are starting to climb out of the hole we found ourselves in a few years ago. But to now see less of our paychecks? I do know that our economy is not all better just yet - taking more money out of the hands of people who do the buying can't be the best idea. Then again I'm not a politician, so I don't know the nuances of why that's an arguing point. 

But it disturbs me to see our politicians arguing over how to spend the money we do have. Congress argued over relief money for Hurricane Sandy. Excuse me, super storm Sandy. It got downgraded from hurricane to super storm, depriving homeowners from their insurance money. Because they were only insured for hurricane damage, not super storm damage. So the insurance companies are bullshit, and Congress trying to decide whether or not to be good goddamn people and put aside a little extra for a natural disaster is extreme bullshit. I honestly do not understand why, whenever we're talking about the budget and where we're allowed to allocate money, why why why schools and Planned Parenthood and disaster relief and infrastructure are the first things on the chopping block when Congress makes fucking good money for the measly amount of work they do. While their constituents, who they talk about all the goddamn time, work 40 hours a week at at least one job (many work more than that at multiple jobs) to make rent and feed ourselves and our kids, congress members get whole months off and spend their work days bickering and arguing over which of the poor gets money, meanwhile enjoying perks like government cars and phones, and some have even better perks. I don't see why Congress deserves the pay they get. They should receive the same pay as cops and firefighters or at the absolute minimum have penalties that affect their pay whenever they put off doing their jobs.

We argue over the wrong things.

Gun laws have been talked about more than ever since 20 kids were murdered last month. Gun enthusiasts refuse to admit that guns kill people, despite studies and records every year that say otherwise. Guns are more likely to kill someone the owner had no intention of killing than they are of being used for their intended purpose, yet people still want to have them around. In their homes, with their children, cocked and loaded. In fact, politicians are making it easier for those with mental health issues to obtain guns legally and want to make it illegal for physicians and psychiatrists to caution against gun safety. 

And we're also still arguing whether gays should be allowed to marry. Whether two grown adults who love each other and want to spend the rest of their lives together be allowed to wed gets just as much debate as whether or not mentally unstable people should be allowed to have military style, automatic weapons that cause mass murder. This is utterly ridiculous and says more about our morals and ethics than anything else. 

The world has to be coming to an end. It's 2013 and it feels 200 years earlier.

Getting The Best Start

When 2010 was such a terrible year in every facet I made the decision that 2011 would not be the same. It didn't happen all at once, but I eventually got a job that wasn't great but gave me abilities and skills I didn't have before (which led to the great job I have now), started the most wonderful relationship, and ran 3 half-marathons. When 2012 started (by the way, how is it that you can tell so much from a new year's kiss?) I was confident it would be as good as 2011 was, and it only got better. Now it's ending and I have an amazing job at a fantastic company, my relationship with the boyfriend has gotten stronger and I love where I live and how I live.

Going over my predictions for 2012 from last year, I'm a little disappointed. The Mayan End of Times was no big deal. People seemed to treat it like I've treated all of the past end of times... with a party. The last day of the world was the night my company's holiday party and the group next to us was an End of Times dinner party. Awesome, but there wasn't as much fear mongering as there used to be. I suppose people are becoming more rational. Sigh.

2012 has been the year of Apple. In June I bought myself a new shiny, and in October the boyfriend got me a mini shiny, helping me finally join the world of iPhone (yay!). I bought a heavy duty case for it, mostly because the boyfriend is convinced I'm going to drop it in the toilet or something (to his credit, just the other day I was holding it while standing perfectly still and somehow it leaped out of my hand, but my hyper-aware iPhone reflexes helped me catch it, so there), but I want a thinner case to show off the sexy profile. Cause let's be real: a big part of the reason I wanted this phone was because of the slim, sexy design, and my case lets everyone know that I'm a clumsy fool. Or that I have a toddler.

This month my car and I celebrated our 1 year anniversary and I can proudly say I'm a full-fledged stick driver. Plus, I taught the boyfriend to drive so whose car we take doesn't turn into a who has to drive situation. We took my car on a 2,00+ mile road trip up to Oregon in August and he gave it a couple of sexy photo shoots. 

There were a few sort-of disappointments this year. The main disappointment being I did not beat the 2 hour mark on my half marathon in 2012, and in fact did not even come close. I ran the worst race of my life, coming at barely under 3 hours. Embarrassing. But here's to making 2013 better.

I also took out the piercing I got in 2011, finally admitting that it was infected and just not worth the pain and hassle (and money). Rather than working towards 7 piercings, I'll just stick with the 5 healthy ones I already have and be satisfied with that odd number. Maybe that's me being a little bit of an adult... other people, some of whom are younger than me, are removing piercings because they aren't "adult" so maybe it's not so bad that I do, too. 

This year has been a pain in the ass for birth control. I still had no insurance so had to rely on Planned Parenthood even though I was working full time for all of the year, and it's been really frustrating having to give up so much just to stay un-pregnant. I'm not one of those women who has to take hormonal birth control for medical reasons, so for me it's just to be able to have a normal relationship with my boyfriend and not have children neither of us want. Which seems simple enough, doesn't it?

Also, the fish I got in 2011 died. 

I'm ending the year with almost as much debt as I paid off in 2011, which is OK because I have the money to pay it off, but have been saving it for an apartment deposit. Once I have my moving situation settled it'll be paid off in no time. Making pretty good money helps.

So what's going to happen in 2013? One of the first things will probably be moving. This will be a terrific milestone for me because I haven't moved since late 2010, a feat I never really thought I'd do (one thing that stayed the same from 2011 to 2012 was not moving). Now that I'm working 4 blocks from my current apartment I have no reason to leave - especially since I love the neighborhood. So finding a place that likes dogs will be one of my first tasks. My second task will be to start training for my 5th half marathon - the 3rd annual Safari Park Half. This time it's for rhinos! I'm so excited to run for the guys I love. My third event will be my first time as a bridesmaid! All of those activities will take place before June, so I have no idea what the second half of the year will hold, but I'm really excited. If the first 6 months tell me anything, 2013 is going to be another great year.

My resolution will be to redesign this blog, host it myself, and write 10 posts a month. I want a new name, a new home, and a new look. I would also like to do some of the same things for the food blog, even though that's still relatively new... Also take that blog a little more seriously and write a lot more. 

I would like to write about some of the other things that happened in 2012, things not directly related to me, but when I think about what the world was focused on this year (rape, shady politics, genocide, taxes) it mostly depresses me.

So here's to a fantastic 2013, to all of those in my life old and new, to those who had a great year and those who had a not so great year. May 2013 be one of the greatest years. Cheers!

Teaching For The Money

Because I wanted to post a cat picture, and this was highly relevant.

How many teachers do you know? How many teachers do you know who got into teaching because it paid well? How many teachers do you know who got into teaching because making a difference in kids lives and doing something worthwhile was important to them?

I know several teachers and not one of them got into it because it would make them rich. Sure, regular vacations was appealing, especially to those who want kids (making it easier to have a career and kids). But my teacher friends figured they'd have about enough to get by - maybe their spouses would have higher earning careers so they could afford the kids they wanted.

My teacher friends paid their own money to go through a credential program in order to teach the children of their communities. And they do it while paying down the loans they took to get their Bachelors and their credentials (and some their masters), making just enough money do do so and pretend to be middle class, and if they put in enough time they'll get a nice teaching position in a school close to their homes and have their loans paid off and be able to lead nice, modest lives.

But what is the first thing on the chopping block every time we have budget issues? Teachers. School supplies. Even the number of days our kids are in school. And how does this help? It gives teachers fewer earning days a year, lessening their salaries by hundreds or thousands, which means they have less money to spend on their kids or their classrooms (a lot of teachers use their own money to buy classroom supplies), less money to spend improving our economy. It also means parents of kids have to spend more money on daycare or more time bribing others to watch their kids or take more time off work (days they don't earn money) to keep their kids occupied. Each day a parent doesn't earn money is less money the family has to spend on the economy, and each paycheck that goes to daycare is less money on other things. How this will help our economy in the long run is something that I've yet to understand.

Politicians have all but accused teachers of not being altruistic enough when they protested budget cuts. Every year hundreds of teachers (whole school systems) receive layoff notices, putting hundreds of people out of work. Many of these teachers regain their jobs or find new jobs in other districts, but the stress that ensues means they stash away any extra cash they might have, stopping it from reentering the economy. Politicians stop just short of saying our kids' education isn't important, teachers should just be happy to be influencing the next generation, and there are more important things than school. 

But what happens when these same teachers lay down their lives - literally - for their students? What happens when teachers hide their kids from a gunman, saving them, and lose their lives for their efforts? All we can do is call them heroes. But in 6 months when we're still having budget issues these teacher's colleagues will be on the chopping block. Again. Because we have no other way to thank them. 

Perhaps it's time to start rethinking our values as a country. Maybe the second amendment isn't as important as the value we place on education from a young age. Maybe a defense budget isn't as important as widespread physical and mental health care. Maybe we should commit to short term sacrifices for the long term good. Or maybe I'm just a liberal woman who doesn't know anything.

Just Another School Shooting

I heard the reports that there was a gunman on an elementary school campus in Connecticut Friday morning around 8:30, right when I got into work to start Twittering and Facebooking for my clients. At that time the Tweets weren't saying there were any deaths, so I kept scrolling, looking for something relevant to post or retweet.

Had I clicked on any of the links in those tweets I might have learned far earlier what happened. It wasn't until after 11am Pacific time when a coworker asked  if we'd heard about the 27 dead in the school shooting.

Wait... what?

Twenty seven. Dead. Most of them children.

Throughout the day I paid close attention to Twitter, waiting to see the latest as the story unfolded. My office was quiet for a long time - like the rest of the country we were shocked, horrified and saddened that such a thing would happen to 6 and 7 year old kids. The shooter was barely an adult himself at just 20. Why would he target classrooms of little kids?

There was the range of typical emotions I felt on Friday (anger, frustration, sadness, shock), but one I did not feel was surprise. When I saw that first tweet my thought was just another school shooting. I hoped no one was injured, and assumed that if anyone was it would be just 1 or 2 people, like what had happened just two goddamned days earlier in Oregon. The point was this had happened so many times just in the last 6 months that I very nearly brushed it off completely. It seems like there's always someone with a gun  going crazy and not caring if they die. For a long time, Columbine was a word everyone knew. Then so was Virginia Tech. These places were where innocent kids (and young adults) died because a crazy classmate wanted to inflict as much pain and suffering as possible. Now I'm honestly having a hard time remembering the names of the schools and towns where massacres took place over the last two years. This year was that place in Arizona where the state representative was shot in the head but survived, there was the midnight movie theatre shooting in Aurora, Colorado, a few people killed in a mall in Oregon, and now there's Sandy Hook in Newtown, Connecticut, a place I'm sure to forget after the next few mass shootings. 

There's not enough time in between shootings now to really commemorate each location. We all knew Columbine and Virginia Tech like we knew 9/11. There are kids alive right now who know nothing of what it was like before we killed each other on a regular basis and endured being killed by extremists. Taking off their shoes, being touched by strangers in an airport security line and being scanned for explosives is just how we fly planes now. I remember when the building in Oklahoma City was bombed: that was heavy news for a good week that caused my mom to cry for days. I remember feeling for the kids in that building, there only because one company provided daycare for its employees, and wondering why that man would do such a thing.  Now a school shooting (as horrible as an elementary school massacre is) is just one more tragedy.*

A second thought: there was a lot of misinformation reported on Friday. Other than me thinking no one had died, it was reported that the shooter was targeting his mother, a teacher at Sandy Hook, and her classroom. It was also reported that the shooter's dad's body was found at his house later in the afternoon. It was also reported that there were two shooters, brothers, and one had escaped to the woods nearby. All of these things (and possibly more things) are false. There was one shooter, and his father is still alive. His mother, not a teacher at that school, was found shot to death in her bed in the home she shared with the shooter (it was her guns the shooter stole and used). The shooter acted entirely alone, and his brother was unfairly arrested and questioned. The Huffington Post also had to edit a report that "misidentified" a Facebook profile as that of the shooter (major oops).

What's with journalists? Are they so excited to be the first to report something that they won't check to make sure it's correct? Does accuracy not matter anymore? Just because one cop or paramedic makes a remark or comments on something does not mean it's true. Plus, the reporters were going around to the surviving 7 year olds and asking them what they heard, what they felt, and how they got out alive. Fucking 7 year old little kids are being interviewed and asked what it was like to survive one of the worst school shootings in the country's history. I wonder how that's going to make them feel when they're old enough to understand what happened. Reporters should have laid off the kids. Talk to adults in the school, or parents after they found out their kids were safe... but leave the traumatized kids alone.

*Aside: Up until the first week of November of this year the there was a lot of debate between the presidential candidates, their VPs, and various other congress members and senators about who will keep us safer from extremists who hate our way of life and want Americans dead. Maybe it's time to focus less on outside forces and more on those within our ranks who want us dead (or at least some of us). 

Feeling Like A Child

Childhood relics at your parent's house can set a person back.

There's an article in Cosmo magazine (I know, I know, but my littlest sister pointed it out [who is their demographic, after all] and it wasn't awful) offering advice for those with emotional distress when home for the holidays. It was targeted at the young adults who are newly into their adult lives: out of college, in big kid jobs with big kid responsibilities and lives, who suddenly feel like children as soon as they're back in their teenage rooms and being chauffeured in the back seat of mom and dad's car. 

This article was pointed out to us because it's my sister's way of telling us that she feels like we treat her like a child, and not like the young adult with responsibilities that she is. She's never been one to openly discuss her feelings, so just showing us an article in a magazine is an invitation to talk about it. 

So we talked about it. Not with her, of course, because we're a normal dysfunctional family. Amongst ourselves, though, yes. We discussed what she might be feeling, what she might want us to do, what we might be doing that is causing her to feel like we see her as a child. And we pointed a lot of fingers. OK, I did a lot of the finger pointing.

I haven't felt like a child when visiting back home in a few years. But I did feel like that when I was my sister's age. And I do feel like that at my boyfriend's parents' house. Not because they treat me like a kid, or treat him like a kid, not at all. In fact they treat us both like adults. And not because of the way they talk to either of us. But I do feel like a kid when we have to sleep in different rooms. 

To be perfectly fair, I fully understand that this is a their-house-their-rules type of situation and I would never, ever say a word (hope they don't find this); and it's not like we're married or engaged or even living together (though I seriously hope one of those things would cause the room situation to change). But my boyfriend, their son, is 30. We're in a serious enough relationship that we're taking each other to our respective families for the holidays. And I'm pretty sure they're both aware we spend the majority of our nights together. But I sleep in the room next to the master and he sleeps in a room on the other side of the house. And I feel like I'm 17 who needs to be stopped from doing naughty things with her boyfriend rather than an adult in a totally normal adult relationship.

The Cosmo article also touched on dealing with family opinions and beliefs that may be different from yours, giving changes in religious and political beliefs as an example. Having to sleep in a different room is conforming to a belief that I don't share. While this is a more extreme example from the annoying-but-harmless dinner table discussions about who voted for who the magazine was hinting at, the feeling is there. You don't want to say anything and start something (especially in my family...), but the article pointed out that if you don't speak up your family won't learn who you are as a new young adult. This is easily my sister's largest issue: blame it on the divorce, but both of my sisters are massive people pleasers who will do anything to avoid a fight and anything to make everyone else happy. This  means repressing a lot of their own feelings and emotions, which is also not healthy. 

If the holidays make you stressed out (and I think most people feel some stress during this time), do what you can for yourself. Take a step back, distance yourself if you have to, and remember that you can't control how other people react or feel. I was reminded that these situations are a two way street, and that each person has to give a little to get somewhere. Myself included.

What Thanksgiving Used To Mean

For a client, I wrote a blog post on fatty Thanksgiving foods after being inspired by one of the most disgusting food videos I've ever seen. (Blog post is here. :) )

I thought it'd be a great topic for the week before Thanksgiving, but when I was doing my research on the fattiest Thanksgiving foods, the only things showing up in search was low-cal Thanksgiving recipes. My searches for "fattiest Thanksgiving recipes" and "high calorie Thanksgiving foods" turned up articles on a lighter Thanksgiving, a low-cal Thanksgiving, and advice on how to not overdo it during the holiday. 

What happened? Why are we now obsessed with making lighter dishes on Thanksgiving, the one day of the year we celebrate our abundance of food? It's because Thanksgiving is no longer the one day of the year we have more food than we know what to do with. We regularly over-indulge, regularly eat beyond being full, and regularly feel sick from too much food. 

Now, the internet is full of Thanksgiving recipes that teach cooks how to make the same dishes with fewer calories. Now, we're told to not put marshmallows on our sweet potatoes, skip the cream of mushroom and fried onions on the green beans, bake potatoes rather than mash them with butter and cream, and skip the bread and rolls. 

I know I'm being a bit of a hypocrite when I say this, especially since running a blog called We Should Be Fat, but I wouldn't mind going back to when giant meals were a special occasion. I wouldn't mind us, as a country, enjoying our meals for what they are, and knowing what they are. We should put some butter and cream in our mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving and enjoy them without worrying about how many miles we'll have to run to work it off, but we should be far more sensible about how we eat on a more regular basis. 

Louis C.K. says the meal is not over when he's full, it's over when he hates himself. And it's funny because it's true for a lot of us. (He also says he runs 5 miles every other day to keep up "this shitty body.") We eat, and then we keep eating until our bodies tell us we're full, and then we feel like absolute shit 20 minutes later, when those last few helpings have settled in. And it's not like we're shoveling in vegetables... we're eating meat at every meal, often with bread, followed up with sweets. And we wonder why there's an obesity crisis.

I was a supporter of Prop 37 that would have required the labeling of genetically modified foods because I saw it as a step in the right direction. We have no idea what we're eating, partially because we don't read the nutrition labels to know what actually comprises those frozen chicken nuggets and partially because a simple ingredient like corn (which is in fucking everything - go look) is comprised of a number of new chemicals that aren't listed. We're eating more, enjoying food less, and suffering because of our over abundance. Our farm animals get the vast, vast majority of our antibiotics (not because they're sick, either), we're polluting our country and other countries laugh at us because of our food habits.

If we don't go full steam ahead with every meal and regret the vast majority of what we eat, we can enjoy what we eat more and worry about it less. We can let Thanksgiving go back to what it used to be - a day to be thankful for what we have, which in this country is more often than not an abundance.

Growing Up

Divorce at 1:10

To the surprise of exactly everyone, two of the boyfriend's friends announced they're getting a divorce. And just like that, this stuff is in my generation.

I have certainly not been in the picture long enough to get a good idea of the type of relationship this couple had, but I have been around long enough to be completely shocked. This couple was known among the group of friends for having the most fun wedding- with a nacho bar (oh yeah, stealing that). The boyfriend has a photo of their friends' faces after they realized there was a nacho bar at the wedding. It's amazing.

And just to be a total cliche, they seemed so happy. Granted, when I did see them it was always the two of them together, and they both were upbeat, smiling and generally... happy. I didn't hang out with either of them one on one and obviously I have no idea how their private relationship was.

But all of their friends are just as surprised.

It's a really unsettling prospect. The husband is a little older but still in his thirties and his wife is just a year or two older than me. She just moved to Seattle for a better job, where he was going to follow at the end of the semester, when he dropped the ax. The super unsettling part? Apparently even she was blindsided.

Now, if that's not something to make you question relationships in general I don't know what is. When I was younger I usually assumed my relationship was about to end when couple-friends would break up. When The Ex's best friends broke up I thought for sure we were on the chopping block. As if break ups are contagious. A few months ago the boyfriend's BFF and his girlfriend broke up, and that didn't affect me or my relationship with my boyfriend at all (for one, I don't still worry that my boyfriend's friend's relationships will have much of an impact on ours, and for another the boyfriend has made me feel very secure about our relationship). But a divorce is different. A divorce isn't just a break up.

I was told that once I turned 26 it would be all weddings and babies and grown up stuff. That kind of happened - Facebook has far more weddings and babies than it did even a year ago, and my new friend requests are in long term committed relationships, if not engaged. I'm even going to be in a wedding. It's weird. People have been telling me this part would come but it's still surprising to actually see it. The other day I got my haircut and the woman asked me if I had kids. Because I look old enough.

And now people my age are getting divorced.

People are still making the same mistakes our parents made, still not talking to each other, still letting problems sit until they're ready to explode. Did we learn nothing? Am I that naive to think we actually would?

The good news for me is that I don't let things stew. If I have an issue that bugs me I bring it up -  for better or for worse. I don't like going to bed mad, really don't like waking up mad, and want things to be resolved as quickly as possible. The down side is this tendency has caused a few sleepless nights, and not in the good way.

Louis C.K. once chastised his audience for "awwww"ing when he announced his divorce, saying "no happy marriage has ever ended in divorce." The man has a good point: happy marriages last - unhappy marriages sometimes don't. I guess the only thing you can do is try to make your partner happy and hope for the best.

Being A Feminist In A Relationship

The other day on Pinterest (because I'm a woman in my late twenties) I saw a quote that said "You're the type of guy I'd make a sandwich for." As a born feminist, it spoke to me. The boyfriend and I were discussing a very religious wedding he'd recently worked, where the priest told the bride that she needed to submit to her husband, and joked to the groom that a happy wife means a happy life. We both thought that was a ridiculous thing to say to two people about to commit their lives together: why not just politely advise the couple to do what they can to make each other happy?

I've been a feminist since before I knew what that word meant, but there are some stereotypically feminine things I really enjoy doing. I love cooking, cooking for others, I care about animals more than most people and love taking care of animals (and plants, though I have greater successes with animals), I enjoy being in an educational position, I'm a neat freak and am constantly cleaning or tidying up. And recently, I've developed an interest in home decorating (rather, discovered that I have a style). While there was a time in my life I thought my future held children and motherhood, I still never wanted to be a stay-at-home-mom, never wanted to be wholly financially dependent on my husband, never desired the traditional housewife role. As I grew up and realized it was never my dream to have children, just me mentally fulfilling the expectation that came along with my gender and dating guys who also made those assumptions, I inched closer towards being a modern feminist.

But I still want to get married, weird as that may sound. I still want to give up my name, have a wedding, be ridiculously in love, and adopt all the pets. I want to make one man feel like the luckiest man alive, and I'll want to make him a sandwich, if only because it would make him happy in that moment*. I would do that because making my spouse happy would be incredibly important to me, just as making me happy would be incredibly important to him. 

This idea - of mutual happiness - at first seemed out of line with traditional feminism; some women refuse to cook, or never bother learning how to be good at it, because it's "anti-feminist." These women might have children but only because they physically have to be the ones to do so  if they want them (we still haven't advanced that far in modern medicine) but will refuse to do anything but the most basic of childcare duties, throwing themselves into their jobs instead. But doing something for the sake of doing it is as bad as not doing something for the sake of not doing it.

In addition to being a feminist, I've also been a cynic pretty much since puberty and my adult years have only solidified those views. After watching marriages fall apart, see couples stay together for the wrong reasons, and see people be so sure they'll end up happily ever after only to see their relationships crumble (always painfully), my cynicism grew. I consoled women who saw their relationships completely fail when they were so sure they wouldn't. I thought maybe I'd marry my high school boyfriend only because he was so sure we were soul mates. I thought I'd probably end up marrying The Ex only because we'd been together so long. It was only after those relationships ended that I realized how wrong I'd been. But I was never so sure. I was never even sure. The very idea of being sure, much less so sure, is terrifying.

I started to realize I didn't really want kids when I was in college. I grew up the oldest of three in a home daycare house. There were always kids around. Always. And I helped. When I came home from school I popped a bag of popcorn and sat at the kitchen table to start my homework, and our regular daycare kid would come and sit with me and share my popcorn. Because I grew up with kids literally always around I knew what to do with them at a very young age. By the time I got old enough to start thinking about my own future I knew what work kids were, and knew that I wasn't very eager to get on that. The people I admired were childless: my uncle, who married in his 50s, never had kids and was able to spoil my sisters and I. The Director of HR at my first post-college job married in her late 30s, got herself snipped, and was able to buy lovely clothes, a sporty car and spend the night in a hotel with her husband, just because. Once I realized I could easily not worry about money, have leisure time, experience a marriage and spoil my nieces and nephews I was hooked.

This idea of modern feminism is sort of a blend of traditional female roles and the super feminist ideals. While we may not want children, we still want to experience the love and acceptance that comes with being married. We watched our parents do all the wrong things with us and each other, make the wrong kind of sacrifices, and we've learned. We'll get married for the right reasons, and if we have kids we'll remember why, and we'll teach them how to be good people. I think we'll see stronger families and relationships because of this.

*Should that man not eat sandwiches very often I would happily make him something else. Preferably something I also want to eat, so we can eat it together.

In Which I Am An Adult

I'm a Thundercat!

At least, that's what it's starting to look like.

For the first time in my whole life I have business cards. With my name on them. And my work email. OMG.

And I have, like, a million. (Alright, the box says it's just 500.) Now I can drop a business card in those little jars for the free lunch! Or, you know, network.

They seem to have come just in time, too, because I'll be going to my first professional networking event next week where someone might actually want one. (Unlikely, since the event is hosted by a fellow Thunder employee and will probably be attended by much of the office, which is comprised of people who are savvier than I and who also have business cards.)

Other than my business cards, very adult things have been happening around me. While I'm still not counting my chickens before they hatch and waiting until my 3-month probationary period is up, I have to admit it's looking like I'm in. They're putting my photo on the wall of employee faces, I'm writing for the company blog later this month (which I'll be bragging about here in a week or so), I'm the account manager for multiple clients, and they did just give me 500 company business cards with my name on them. And a mug. Also, this might be the year I finally join the ranks of the working insured. That's right: health care might be right around the corner. So that's exciting.

Adult things have been happening in my personal life, too. Another first for me is watching someone close to me plan a wedding. Other than seeing random tidbits from former friends and acquaintances on Facebook (and lately seeing more wedding photos of strangers than I ever thought I'd see), I've never been privy to the process. Having it happen in my own apartment is eye opening and interesting. 

Which leads me to another adult occurrence: looking for an apartment on my own. I did this once before (I still miss Community) and it made me feel very grown up. Having to have a roommate because you have a shitty job that barely supports you will very quickly make you feel like a child. My roommate moving in with her fiance (an adult thing to experience second-hand) in a couple of months, combined with my relative security in my new position means I'll not only have the opportunity to live alone again, but have the means. And I might even step it up to a one-bedroom, rather than a studio.

Which leads me to my final nudge into adulthood: the topic of living with the boyfriend. Seems like I can't go more than a week or two without being asked if we're moving in together, both by close friends and people who barely know us. So... I guess I'm at that age now where it's acceptable, even expected, that you live with your significant other after a certain amount of time. This is perhaps the most baffling adult feeling: I'm so used to people not asking that in my relationships, people expecting us to live apart and with roommates, people who would have been surprised if I'd lived with a boyfriend. Not anymore. Which means that when we do start living together people will probably be supportive and happy for us, not surprised and asking questions like I would have expected.

Plus, even though I have a lot of debt now (because people are jerks), the boyfriend and I have solid jobs that will allow us to save for traveling. By spring I'll be able to pay off my debts and save up for an East Coast trip. And traveling definitely makes you feel pretty darn grown up.