8 Reasons Last Night Was Really Good via FUZZBEED

1. I LEFT MY HOUSE ON A WORK NIGHT!

I DON'T KNOW WHO THIS GUY IS BUT HE LEFT HIS HOUSE ON A WORK NIGHT TOO!

2. I GOT TO SEE TEA LEAF GREEN FOR $16!

 UNFORTUNATELY THEY WERE NOT COVERED IN MUD. YOU CAN'T HAVE EVERYTHING.

3. I LOOKED REALLY CUTE

WELL NOT THIS CUTE.

4. I WAS OUT WITH MY BEST FRIEND!

IT WAS FUN AND NO UNNECESSARY FOREARM TOUCHING WAS INVOLVED!
5. I GOT TO DANCE!

I HOPE THIS KID DOESN'T SUE ME.

6. THERE WERE CUTE GUYS!

OKAY NOT THAT CUTE.

7. I WAS LESS THAN 10 FEET AWAY FROM THIS GUY!!!!!!!1!1!

CLEARLY WE ARE SOULMATES BECAUSE WE ARE BOTH HOTTER IN PERSON THAN IN PHOTOS. 

8. WE MADE EYE CONTACT SEVERAL TIMES. BECAUSE I WAS IN FRONT OF HIS KEYBOARD. LIKE A CREEPY FANGIRL.

I ACTUALLY BEHAVED LIKE THE MEME SAID I WOULD

via FUZZBEED

Leave the Cat Ladies Alone!

If you live in the country, it's almost inevitable that at some point in time you will end up dripping with cats. They show up at your house, you adopt them from a neighbor, you have a mouse problem, another one shows up at your house.

As a current reluctant and confused suburban dweller, I've downsized to one cat, the fluffy, chubby, toothless and loveable Oscar Meyer Weiner-Lockman. I am madly in love with him, as I was with Sadie, until my dad fell madly in love with her and decided to keep her in West Virginia forever. Oscar is my Colorado cat and my life would be much gloomier without him.

At this point, I'm somewhat of a caricature of a cat lady in-training. There's a litter box in my bedroom. If that isn't a deterrent to potential suitors, the fact that Oscar loves to step on faces and jugular veins could be. I don't know. I find it all hilarious and loveable.

So why do women who have cats that they love get so much flack? I mean, I love a good joke at someone else's expense as much as the next person, but there's nothing wrong with a woman who has a cat. Or even two or three. Everybody needs to love and be loved, and sometimes a pet is the easiest way to guarantee that you'll get and give love. Just imagine if every person who is sometimes lonely and has a pet to help combat that loneliness, had a child instead of that pet.

We'd be overpopulated in a millisecond.

That's not to say that pet ownership is only for people who are lonely. That's obviously not true. But the lonely are the ones who get the most shit about it. And the women who have cats, especially women who are single or live alone, get even more shit about it than men. Because, I don't know, it's unnatural for a woman to have a cat instead of a child. (I have no idea. I'm assuming that's why there's this sexist stigma around "cat ladies").

You see, some people are young or old or sick or brokenhearted or going through major changes or busy or happy and for any or all of the above reasons, pets become almost as important as the people in their lives. Sometimes, as much as their bodies want them to be popping out babies left and right, their brains know that having a cat to love on is much wiser than entering a relationship with someone they meet on OkCupid! whose religion is "Dude-ism."

I have no doubt that when the time comes for me to have babies and another significant other it will happen. But for now, sharing my bed with Oscar is as much as I can deal with. It's not because I'm crazy. It's because I can move the litter box when company comes over. It's much easier than trying to find a baby sitter, or ignore the crushing weight of loneliness.

So come on over boys!

Oscar's waiting to snuggle....

Ann Patchett's Truth & Beauty: Crying & Friendship

For me, one of the delights of not being in school has always been rediscovering my love of reading. Armed with a library card, a decent used bookstore, a friend or two with a good library, and adequate free time, I can disappear for hours and hours. I resurface feeling slightly bleary-eyed, empty yet more full. The best books always leave me a bit sad, even if their contents made me laugh so loudly that I attract the attention of folks in airports or my sleeping cat. While I've asserted in this blog before, that reading does not count as writing, the two are closely intertwined. When I'm reading a lot, I write a lot.

Today I devoured Ann Patchett's novel Truth & Beauty, her memoir about her friendship with Lucy Grealy, a poet and the author of Autobiography of a Face. I'd never heard of Lucy Grealy or read anything that Ann Patchett had written. Bel Canto stares at me every time I look for something to read at my parents' house, but I'm always daunted by the description on the back and the awards it has written. I don't instantly relate to the description on the dust jacket, but I do relate to a story about friendship.

I used to cry a lot when I was growing up, but it's become a rarer occurrence. It occurs when I've had too much to drink and not enough to eat, or when I'm talking about myself and my future. I avoid it as much as possible. I don't like to burden myself or others with my sadness, as from an objective standpoint, I have very little to be sad about. Movies and TV shows provide a free pass for tears. If I can project sadness onto an episode of How I Met Your Mother, I am safe. Books on the other hand, are a more personal matter. There's no sense in crying if there's no audience to provide a possibility of relief. When you finish a book, there's no tangible evidence. People don't hear you reading it. Books may put me into a mental state of sadness, but they seldom bring on any physical symptoms of it. But when I finished Truth & Beauty an hour ago, I cried.

The last time I remember crying after reading a book, I was 13 or 14 and I'd just finished one of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants books. Both books are about friendship and loving a person unconditionally. I think I sometimes have difficulty forming romantic relationships because it's hard to comprehend loving anyone more than I love some of my friends. I'd think long and hard before moving somewhere for a romantic partner, but I'd move to live closer to friends in a heartbeat. In fact, friendship is one of the biggest reasons I moved to Boulder.

The thing is, Lucy Grealy sounds like a difficult person to be friends with. She requires constant reassurance and seems to provide little in return. I've have a few friends like that, and while I swear up and down that I would follow them to the ends of the earth, I haven't. I've distanced myself from them very deliberately in an act of self-preservation. I'm not sure I have the strength or wherewithal to stand by a friend in the same way that Ann Patchett did.

This also reminded me of what I'd like to call Lockman's Transitive Property, and makes me worry about where I fit into it in regards to friendship.
Lockman's Transitive Property goes as follows:
a. If you don't have a weird roommate, you are the weird roommate. (This is almost always true in groups of 3 or more)
b. If you don't have a gay cousin, you are the gay cousin. (This one is less often true, but thought-provoking nonetheless)

So can it apply to friendship as well? If you don't have a friend who is difficult and incredibly needy, are you the friend who is difficult and incredibly needy? Have I become this person for some of my friends?

These are the kinds of thoughts that occur most often after spending the better part of a Sunday reading a good book. It's too far past my bedtime to develop many deliverables beyond the following list.
1. Write more
2. Get a library card
3. Cry sober
4. Be a good friend
5. Go to sleep

Good Neighbors Make Great Fences

If you've seen the news recently, you'll know it's flooding in Boulder. My house and all of my friends are currently fine, but because floods are incredibly rare here, houses, yards, roads and emergency services are not very flood-proof.

When we first realized that this wasn't just a bit of rain, there was a weird sense of jubilation, like the feeling of a snow day. It was reminiscent of all of my childhood fantasies of being stranded at school due to snow. In typical 20-something fashion, my roommate and I drove gleefully into the storm to rescue our other roommate from work. We stopped at a liquor store on the way back to stock up on beer. Typical 20-something emergency preparedness. We made jokes about building an ark. We were fine.

Thirty minutes and one beer later, the street in front of our house was fairly flooded. One hour later, it was completely flooded. While walking around the area surveying the damage, I ran into some neighbors of mine who were hauling rocks to the edge of the street in a desperate attempt to keep water out of their yard. I had some doubts about the efficacy of their rock wall, but I offered to help. Soon there were 5 or 6 of us moving rocks, helping our neighbors protect their yard.

The flood is by no means over, but seeing folks take time out from their gawking (because honestly, that's what we were all doing) made me feel good about humanity, and scared for the future.

WARNING, SHIT IS GONNA GET SERIOUS IN THIS POST

Because climate change is happening. I have no doubt that this flood following a summer of forest fires is yet another sign of climate change. Whether you deny it or not, we're going to have some pretty extreme weather in the future. And in order for the human race to survive, we're going to have to help out our neighbors. We're going to have to help build those walls, keep each other informed, share our food, water, and time. So know your neighbors and be prepared to help them out. Let's hope they'll do the same for you.

Beating Dead Horses: Miley Cyrus

If you've been paying attention to the internet at all today, you probably will have noticed that Miley Cyrus has been getting a lot of shit. And she definitely deserves it. Cultural appropriation, ignorance, horrible outfits, lack of a butt, her crimes against good taste continue to mount. But we're ignoring two important points about Cyrus's recent transition from Hannah Montana to the girl with bad hair from last night's VMAs.

Point 1:
We Can't Stop is a horrible song. Just terrible. I mean, the chorus is "La ti da ta di, we like to party, dancing with molly (Miley? Nobody really knows, nor should they care because this song is the worst) doing whatever we want." So even though it was written for Rihanna and Miley co-opted it or whatever you want to say about it, it's probably not a bad thing. Rihanna has enough troubles without being responsible for unleashing this drivel on the world.

Point 2:
Dolly Parton is Miley Cyrus's godmother. Dolly Parton is Miley Cyrus's godmother.
Miley is country music royalty. Do you know how many people would kill to have the kind of music industry connections Miley was born into? It's upsetting that Party in the U.S.A was the pinnacle of Miley's career, because with a little training in music, humility and good taste, Miley could have been the next Shania Twain or Loretta Lynn. Dolly issued a half-assed statement about how Miley was just doing her or whatever, but I'm pretty sure she was ASHAMED.

Point 3:
This is why child stars are a terrible thing. Miley Cyrus should be in a liberal arts college learning about privilege and oppression and music theory instead of smoking salvia and wearing stupid outfits. I wish with all my heart that the rumor that Miley Cyrus was going to Oberlin had been true. She'd still be able to smoke salvia and wear stupid outfits, but she'd also learn about feminism and why it's not okay to decide you're "trying to sound more Black" as a white woman.

Publicity, whether it's bad or good, is what Cyrus wants. We're all feeding the monster.
I wish only the best for Miley Cyrus. And the best is that she gets it together, takes some time off of touring to read some books, spends more time with Dolly and less time doing molly, and returns to her glory days of The Climb and See You Again.

Insurance Privilege

While at Oberlin and working for the STAY Project, I learned a lot about privilege and the ways in which I am privileged. I'm about as aware as a straight-identifying, upper middle class, white girl can be about the ways in which I am privileged and others are not. But last night I became fully aware of another way in which I am privileged.

I've been very fortunate to always have health insurance. My dad works for a university and it's pretty par for the course. When I was sick or injured, my parents never thought twice about taking me to the doctor (I had rabies shots when I was 11 for crying out loud. They were like $20. Ridiculous). After graduating from college, my good fortune has continued thanks to Obamacare. So even though I am a contract worker paid for sometimes less than 20 hours a week, I can afford to do things like go to Planned Parenthood and get an IUD. Because it's completely free for me. My impression of Obamacare has always been that it means everyone my age has insurance. Because everyone my age has parents who have insurance, right? No. Completely wrong.

So I apologize to all the times I've been like "Just go to the doctor if you're sick! Insurance will pay!" or "Get this fancy expensive birth control! It's FREE!" or "How do you NOT have insurance?" These statements were not only moronic and insensitive, but totally ignorant. We have a long way to go until everyone can pay for medical care that they need now or will need in the future. It's really upsetting to me that many of my friends currently have to worry about caring for aging family members who they cannot simply send to the doctor with a $15 co-pay. Say what you will about universal healthcare, but it's pretty silly that in this day and age something as simple as setting a broken bone could cost someone without insurance $7,000. We need to work to make sure that our entire population can afford basic healthcare, because we can't be very productive as a nation if our bodies are falling apart. Going to the doctor when you're sick, or getting access to the family planning services that keep you in the workforce should not be a "privilege." It should be a right.

Seldom Right, Never in Doubt

I come from stubborn people on both sides. It's a running joke that the Lockman family motto is "Seldom right, never in doubt." My favorite story of familial stubbornness comes from my mother's side. My late grandfather once researched and wrote a book about Pocahontas and her descendents just to prove my grandmother's assertion that she was related to Pocahontas wrong. The book is kind of a snore, but the hardheadedness that I've been raised amongst is all there.

It's a miracle that my parents got married as I imagine it would be hard for two people from such stubborn stock to admit that they wanted to try to spend the rest of their lives together. In fact, they dated for 10 years before it happened. And hardheadedness definitely did not skip me. I spent much of my solo cross-country road trip being lost because I was sure I knew where I was going. I hated asking for help in college until it was too late. I don't mind being bad at things, but I don't want suggestions on how to get better. I just want to struggle until I find my own way. So it's no surprise that it has been difficult to admit to myself and to others that I'm worried that I've made a huge mistake in my post-college life.
 
The truth of the matter is, I don't really love Colorado. It's not like Oberlin or Eastern Kentucky or Chicago where I took to it immediately. It's been a lot of struggling with sunburn, suburban living, and the fact that I can't drink more than one beer without getting silly because of the altitude. I'm having a somewhat rough transition, and I'm not someone who that happens to. I can make friends with just about everybody, go with the flow, and find my place pretty quickly. Maybe it's the weird combination of college students, homeless people and yuppies, my lack of interest in smoking the legalized marijuana or even the fact that I work remotely and don't have an instant community of people that I know. It could be that I'm far from home or just moved away from a place that was, for better or worse, home base for 5 years. Maybe it's because I didn't get paid until mid-August for work I've been doing all summer. Or it could be that this is just not the place for me, in the same way that New York or the Philadelphia suburbs are not the place for me. Whatever it is, it's been hard for me to even say that I'm not quite as enchanted by Boulder as most of the people around me seem to be. I mean, I'm terrified of rock climbing and I'd just as soon drink a Miller High Life as something from a local brewery.

 My time in Boulder has by no means been terrible. I've reconnected with some old friends, made some new ones, have a wonderful cat and a great little house in a cute neighborhood. I'm in the best shape that I've been since high school and have been doing many of the things I love. But it's as my wise mother who gave me half of my stubborn genes told me, "If I went to heaven I'd probably hate it for the first year." These things take time and my stubbornness is coated with impatience. If it's sink or swim I try to fly and I usually succeed. And it's hard to admit that maybe I'm really sucking at living in a town.

So I guess this is just to say that I'm doing okay, but am a little sad and confused and may or may not have actually gone to a palmist for life advice a few weeks ago. I don't think this is really special or different from anything anyone else feels when they move to a new place or make major life transitions. Luckily I'm not alone. Between old friends who I want to spend all my time with, a roommate who gets that sometimes you just need to be a cat lady, another rural transplant and appreciator of pop music who understands that sometimes you just need to be snarky, an Oberlin friend who is a force of positivity in my world and a cat who likes to sit on my arms while I type, I've got the companionship necessary to make it through the winter. I'll work this rough patch out. I'm too hardheaded not to.

Drop Kick Me Brickie Through the Goal Posts of Life: Ask Polly Edition

My 8 year old male cat Brickle Marie Lockman sometimes dabbles in writing an advice column. He'd sworn that he'd never do it again, but after reading Ask Polly, the Awl's advice column, he decided that he'd have to spring into action. To read the original version of the column, visit: http://www.theawl.com/2013/07/ask-polly-im-almost-30-and-im-terrified-of-losing-my-looks .


 Dear Brickie,

 I’m a woman who will soon be 30. I am terrified of watching my physical beauty deteriorate over the next decade. I’m conventionally attractive. I don’t believe that being pretty translates to any tangible social power, but I do get positive attention from people, which I enjoy. I love being gazed at. I don’t mean street harassment or anything like that, but the way that people (of all genders) get these dreamy, enraptured looks on their faces when they see me. I think beauty has some magical quality to it, and it makes me feel alive. When I look at myself, too, I sometimes get the same sensation as when I behold an emotionally stirring work of art—shimmering, crackling, breathless. There truly is nothing like a beautiful face. And so, the prospect of losing this—and I know I will lose it, everyone does—fills me with such crushing dread.

I take care of myself as best I can in terms of a healthy lifestyle and sunscreen, but I know that every day that goes by, I am aging, and ultimately powerless to stop it. (I don’t have much faith in the ability of cosmetic procedures to keep my face looking exactly the way it does now, so that “option” is of little comfort). It’s like I’ve been given this precious gift with the stipulation that it will be yanked away from me before my life is even halfway over.

I don’t know how to cope with this. I have these horrible moments now in which I see older women around me and feel a visceral sense of disgust and pity—obviously a projection of my own fears. The prospect of looking older is sometimes so intolerable that I sometimes plan ways to commit suicide in the future. Because I realize this sounds/is crazy, I looked into a treatment program for Body Dysmorphic Disorder. I was told, however, that I don’t qualify because I don’t currently hate my appearance. I started seeing a therapist and a psychiatrist, but neither diagnosed me with anything, they essentially said that “most women have these concerns” and I’ll probably “age well anyway.” The psychiatrist offered to prescribe a sleeping pill if the thoughts kept me awake at night. The therapist suggested that I read feminist literature. My mother told me I must have things pretty good if I can spend so much time fixating on my future face.

 Do you have any advice?

 Dorian


Dorian, 

 Do I have any advice? Am I fat? 

Of course I have advice. My first piece of advice is to find better therapists. My second piece of advice is to get a cat. We aren't the best at perceiving faces, so as you age, we don't care as long as you're still able to open a can of cat food (I prefer Friskies pate, not the Meaty Bits BS). Having a cat will distract you from your navel gazing and force to think about things like "How many ounces of catnip is it legal to grow in my state?" "How can my cat help me fold laundry, cook dinner or do my taxes?" and "Why was my cat benevolent enough to wait until now to scratch me for my insolence, instead of doing it five minutes ago?" Soon you'll be so busy loving your life of servitude that you'll forget what you even look like! <3 data-blogger-escaped-brickle="" data-blogger-escaped-i=""> 


 Dear Brickle, 

 I'm in my early 40s; an aspiring writer and graphic designer; have been in a relationship for over ten years with my 'fiance'; desperately desiring a child and feeling like I've run out of time. I put the word fiance in quotes because we've been affianced for almost ten years now, with no prospect of actually getting married because he's been there twice and is 'done with that shit.' I've been married once before too, and while I respect his decision, I kind of feel unhappy that it's his decision and not ours. I've waited all this time for him to come around to having a child with me, but he's always put it off (he already has one [with a previous partner] and he's not ready for that responsibility again; one of us was in the middle of jobs; we were renting; we owned a place of our own but it was an apartment, not a house), and now it feels like my biological clock struck midnight a long time ago and neither of us noticed. 

Because now he says he's ready to think of having another kid. Yet many times these past years, whenever I've brought up my wanting a baby, he's pointed at my cat and my parrot and made Old Crazy Cat Lady jokes. I never found them funny.

 I left my steady job last year to go back to graduate school—I'm pursuing a degree in graphic design. We talked about this before I made the move because it was a drastic career change for me (I was middle manager in a major retail chain); he had promised to support me/us while I did this. It seemed only fair to me since he had quit his job four years ago while he tried to 'find' himself. During those two years, I bore the brunt of our household expenses, insurance, etc. (The little savings income he had went to child support.) 

Even after two years of soul searching, it doesn't look like he has any idea of what his driving passion is. I, however, know what I want to do, finally, and wanted to go for it. We moved to a cheaper city near my university last year. He had told me he had interviews lined up; when we got here, I found out two of those interviews were for part time jobs (and things he was vastly overqualified for) because, 'I figured I'd need some time to get used to corporate slavery again, babe.' In the meantime, our bills weren't getting paid. So I begged and pleaded with my old boss to let me back as a part-time remote worker to supplement what he was making. I had to give away my bird because she had a fungal condition and I couldn't afford the vet anymore. And this means that on top of being a graduate student, I'm working practically full-time because I constantly take on freelance gigs.

 He's extremely handsome and well-built. Women swarm him wherever we go (he used to be offered modeling gigs when we were younger). I'm kind of average-looking-okay, and I have put on some weight in the past years. Also I was a blonde when we met, but I've gone back to my natural deep brown hair now. Which means he frequently makes —even in public—jokes about me pulling a 'switcheroo.' He has no faith in my creative aspirations. I try to remind myself that he uprooted and moved to a new place for me. Which is totally a big deal. However, he keeps harping on the fact that he did this (which diminishes the sacrifice, am I wrong in thinking this?); but also he will make disparaging remarks about my projects and compare my achievements with others ("so-and-so won this award, how come you didn't? aren't you good enough?"). 

 I know I've made him sound like a nightmare. But we have many sweet moments too. My last birthday he organized a surprise trip to Peru as I've always wanted to visit there (my favorite grandmother came from Lima). And I have to admit we have the best sex ever. Really. And after all this time we're both super attracted to each other. There's no denying that. 

 My friends and family almost universally hate him. One of my sisters cancelled her Christmas trip to see our parents at the last minute because she found out he was going too (he usually doesn't attend any family events). Two of my closest grad school friends are constantly pressuring me to leave. So much so that I've distanced myself from both. I love them dearly and I understand they want what's good for me, but it also feels patronizing that they're professing to know better than I do what's the right thing for me. I feel the same way about my sisters. 

 This is the longest relationship I've ever had. I feel like he's a good person, but maybe not good for me at this point in my life. But at the same time, maybe that moment, where our lives click together is just around the corner. I've invested so much here, given up so much of what I wanted to be with him, that I can't help but wait for that mutual moment to arrive. 

 Am I being impatient? Am I being wrongheaded? What can I do? 
 Maybe Knows What to Do But Not How to Do It 

Dear MKWTDBNHTDI, 

 It sounds like you need to get rid of this dude. If he's decided he wants a child now, maybe he should spend more time with the child he already has, since so much of the money that he could have been spending on buying treats for your cat goes to pay child support. That's not fair to his child, your cat, or you. The guy sounds awful. I mean, it was nice of him to move with you while you follow your dreams and take you to Peru, but it would have been even nicer if he hadn't made fun of you when you expressed your interest in having kids. Dude's not gonna marry you, and you shouldn't want to marry him. He sounds like a loser. Now that we've taken care of you, let's talk about your cat. It is clearly living in an environment where it is under-appreciated and over-stressed. You must move with it to a place that has lots of house plants, shelves to hide in, and some kind of pestilence problem so it will be properly stimulated while you follow your graphic design dreams. Once you've graduated and hung up your shingle, your cat will be waiting patiently for you, belly in the air. Kids are a mere distraction from cat worship, and they tend to do things like chew on our tails and scream loudly while we're trying to sleep. For your cat's sake, I hope your biological clock isn't still ticking. Good luck kicking that jerk out. Let me know if you want me to poop in his slippers or annoy him into leaving for you. Best, Brickle

If You Can Read This, You're Not Writing

I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be a writer lately. When I was in Berlin at the end of June, I was staying with my writer friend, and spending a lot of time with her and her writer ex-boyfriend. For them, the question was no longer "Do I want to attempt to support myself by writing?," but "What is the minimum number of hours I have to babysit so I can spend the rest of my life writing?" Naturally it was an incredibly inspiring environment. While I was in Berlin, I did things like wake up at 4 am to work on a story, journal about communism while riding the bus, and calculate the minimum number of hours I'd have to babysit to support myself as a writer.

Back in the States of course, reality set in. I'm not making my living as a writer and that goal feels very far away. I can barely commit to an outfit for an entire day, much less a career path that involves constant frustration and possibly having to move to New York.  But I come from stubborn people. So I'm not going to let the fact that I don't have an English degree or any idea how to actually use a semi-colon stop me.

A lot of people have a skewed perception of writing. The reality is though, if you think you want to write something, you should just do it.

Here are some things that some people think count as writing that actually don't.

1. Doing drugs because Hemingway/Sedaris/Dr. Suess (I'm just assuming) did it.
You are doing drugs. That's nice. Now write about it.

2. Having sex so they have something to write about.
Good for you! I wish I was having sex. Now write about how you felt afterward, what your characters would have done, how hot the room was, how you're pretty sure the character's roommates heard.

3. Reading
Reading is good. Really good. Now take what you were reading and write about it. Did the author say something that made you think? Did one of the characters remind you of a person you know? Was there a dead bug stuck between two of the pages? Write about those things.

Writing is like playing a musical instrument. If you want to get better than mediocre at it, you have to practice. If you don't have an idea or feel inspired, well tough shit. Write a letter to your grandma. Write a list of books you want to read, places you want to go. Edit a story you started two years ago about a Christmas Parade. String together words on your great American beach read. It doesn't have to be good, it just has to be.

While we're on the topic, it bothers me when someone says they can't write. Unless this person is genuinely illiterate or under the age of 7, this is like hearing a person who is physically able to move their body say that they can't dance. It's a weak excuse. If you don't want to write, say that. If you find it hard to focus while writing, it's okay. Everybody does. Just don't act like you physically can't write or that I have some sort of magical power because I can string words together and sometimes make people laugh or think.

I'm not good at writing because I was born knowing how to do it. I wasn't even one of those weird kids who could read when they were 4 or anything. I'm good at writing because when I was in 4th grade I filled cow spot notebooks with the beginnings of stories about Harry Potter and princesses and girls who were 14 and went on trips and kissed cute boys (maybe loosely inspired by Mary Kate & Ashley movies). I took 2 English classes in my senior year of high school, while ill-advisedly applying to 11 colleges, keeping two journals, and working as a sports writer for the Pocahontas Times. I wrote shitty poetry in my freshman year of college, and perfected my ability to create good Facebook statuses before starting this blog. In the past year I've finally gotten to the point where I can honestly say I write almost every day.

So that's why I'm good at writing. And the only way I'll continue to get better is to let myself behave a little like a crazy person. I need to leave friends' houses in the middle of the night because I just. need. to. write., to go running while thinking of the characters in my great American beach read, to volunteer to write glossaries of computer science terms, to spend 2 hours writing about birth control and carry around a purse big enough to hold my notebook.

You don't really need to know much about anything to write, but you do need to know how to swallow your pride, take emotional risks, learn from every situation and get things done. You have to learn to be okay with not hearing back from editors, with spending hours writing about ceiling fans or Microsoft Excel, and getting hand cramps and carpal tunnel. Because all of those things mean that at least you are writing. And if writing is truly what you want to do, then you will find a way to do it.

Let's Talk About Birth Control: A Guide For Those Without Ovaries

It has recently come to my attention how little people who are capable of impregnating women actually understand about ways of avoiding pregnancy. This is quite frankly, a shame. These men aren't complete idiots or woman-haters. Most of them are well-meaning dudes who don't want to father children, but don't know shit about women's bodies, because no one has ever tried to teach them. It's okay guys. I'm here for you.

As a graduate of Oberlin College's SexCo, a psychology student, a writer and a woman, I feel that it is important to try and educate people about birth control instead of just complaining about it to my roommates.
So here goes.

First Thing's First
For this article to make any sort of sense, you must first acknowledge that we as humans are biological creatures. Our bodies know things about survival that our brains feel are pretty outdated. Pretty much everything we do is about survival of the species. Especially having sex.

So what does this mean? Well, first of all, it explains why it's incredibly easy for people who don't want to get pregnant, like teenagers, to get pregnant, and more difficult for a 35 year old woman with the emotional capabilities and the means necessary to raise and support another human being. It's because in cavemen times a 16 is the perfect age for fertility and women didn't necessarily live past their mid 30s. That's because they probably died in childbirth at age 25.

This is not to say that all teenagers are bad moms and that all middle-aged ladies are good ones. That's obviously not true. But our evolutionary abilities and desires to reproduce usually come before the societal stability that will make it easy for us to provide for our young.

Evolutionarily, women get the short end of the stick. Think about it. Men can just spread their gametes* wherever they want. They provide sperm and bam it's done. Women on the other hand, carry their gametes inside them and must gestate their offspring for ~9 months. Inside of their bodies. Afterwards, they provide food for the baby for pretty much as long as is practical and culturally acceptable. This is a ton of work. It takes a toil on our bodies. It is what our bodies are built for, but it's a long-term commitment.

Pregnancy and childbirth are a beautiful, necessary thing. It's amazing that women can grow babies inside of their bodies. Eventually, I want to have children myself. It's what biology is telling me I should do. Plus I'd probably raise some pretty kick-ass kids. But now is not the time.

So lets review:

• We want to have sex because we're trying to ensure survival of the species!
• It's easy to get pregnant when you're young because that's what biology wants us to do!
• Men can do whatever they want and women gestate and nurse the offspring. I know most men don't just run off, but a lot of them do. It's not right, but that's how their bodies work.

How To Not Get Pregnant
So now let's talk about how women prevent pregnancy. Most of the methods I'm going to talk about do absolutely NOTHING for prevention of sexually transmitted infections. So don't be a dumbass. Wear condoms or don't have sex, because that's really the only way to guarantee that you don't spread STIs around.

"But Janney," you're probably thinking, "condoms suck."

I mean yeah. Using condoms isn't as pleasant as letting your body do whatever the hell it wants and impregnate everything you touch, right? Again, biological trickery at work.  But as my gynecologyist told me, "Condoms are good at preventing disease, but bad at preventing pregnancy." If you've ever done any reading on cumulative contraceptive failure, you'll know that the small statistical chance you have of getting pregnant while on any form of birth control gets bigger and bigger the more often you have sex. So it's a good idea to use more than one form of protection against pregnancy.

Hormonal Birth Control
Most people know about birth control pills. It's really ideal, right? Take a pill once a day, don't get pregnant. Hormonal birth control comes in many forms, pills, patches, rings, shots, implants, and intrauterine devices. It basically tricks your body into believing that it's already pregnant. If taken correctly, hormonal birth control is pretty darn effective. The advent of hormonal birth control gave a lot of women a control over their reproductive systems that made it possible for them to do things with their lives besides pop out babies all the time. Hormonal birth control is a great thing for women.

But it's not ideal for everyone. This is why I find it pretty offensive when men suggest that women go on the Pill. There are a lot of side effects of tricking your body into thinking it's pregnant. For many people, the side affects are nice ones. Fewer cramps, lighter periods, less acne, positive mood changes, bigger breasts.

 But sometimes people will experience side effects like weight gain, lack of sex drive, bigger breasts, and being bummed out all the time. Not to mention that some people, myself included, are really bad at remembering to take pills every day.

Of course there are other hormonal options for people who can't remember to take pills. These can be a really great option for people like me who are dumbasses. I have a friend, let's call her Fanny, whose personal favorite form of birth control was the Nuva Ring. There were no negative affects on her mood or physical appearance. Unfortunately after over two years of ringed bliss, she started getting horrible migraines on the first day of her period, that rendered her unable to do anything besides vomit and sleep. It's ridiculous to expect a person to lose a day of their life every time they menstruate. So Fanny went off of the Nuva Ring and onto a birth control pill that didn't give her migraines, but when she remembered to take it made her lose all interest in having sex. An effective form of birth control indeed!

Other forms of hormonal birth control, like the shot or the Nexplanon implant, are sometimes forced upon women in homeless shelters, with drug addictions, or with legal trouble. Because the shot doesn't need to be given daily or monthly, it is a quick fix for people who can't afford monthly co-pays (although thanks to Obama Care, birth control is free). However, despite the well-meaning practitioners and providers who administer the shot left and right to women who may not have the ability to advocate for themselves medically, it is problematic to take away reproductive autonomy from women just because they are poor. Plus, people still seem to get pregnant a lot on the shot. End rant.

Let's review again:

• Hormonal birth control tricks your body into thinking it's pregnant
• It's great for some people
• But not for everyone

Intrauterine Devices
Intrauterine devices, or IUDs are really cool. They are little metal "Ts" that a doctor implants in the uterus. They basically turn the uterus into an inhospitable environment for sperm with or without hormones. IUDs can be effective for up to 5 or 10 years, and removed when a person feels ready to have children, which makes them a good option for women like Fanny and myself, who don't want to even think about children for 5 to 10 years. IUDs are very common in Europe, and pretty much everywhere besides the United States. We'll discuss why in a second.

Like birth control pills, there are side effects of IUDs, both positive and negative. Unlike birth control pills, IUDs are rarely suggested to women in the United States who are looking for birth control. Part of the reason for this is that the US was pretty scarred by an IUD in the 70s called the Dalkon Shield. Contemporary IUDs, like Mirena, an IUD with a low dose of hormones, and Paraguard, an IUD without hormones, are shaped like "Ts," a shame that mimics the natural form of the female reproductive organs. The Dalkon Shield was shaped like a crab and had little arms that in many cases did lots of messed up things to the uterus. A lot of people had medical complications as a result of the Dalkon Shield, and to this day, IUDs are somewhat of a dirty word for many people and practitioners in the US. But we've come a long way baby, and IUDs are safer and more effective than ever.

Unfortunately, due to the bad rap of the Dalkon Shield, and the patriarchal beliefs regarding the female reproductive system that run rampant in this country, many practitioners won't prescribe IUDs for women who haven't had children yet.

After her bad experience with the Nuva Ring, Fanny went to a doctor in Northeast Ohio attempting to get an IUD. The female (I might add) doctor refused to prescribe her one because she was unmarried and not in a monogamous relationship. Fanny is no moron. Fanny knew that IUDs didn't prevent STIs and planned on getting an IUD mostly for her peace of mind regarding pregnancy. Unable to convey her fear of STIs that meant she rarely had sex without condoms even while in monogamous relationships where both parties had been tested, to this particular doctor, Fanny left the office in tears and off of any form of birth control. A week later, she became pregnant.

Just kidding.

Fanny just felt horrible about herself because she wasn't in a relationship for a week until I pointed out that the doctor had essentially slut-shamed her.

Let's Review:

• IUDs (intrauterine devices) are a semi-long-term, but not permanent, form of birth control
• IUDs must be inserted by medical professionals, so they require quite a bit of planning on the part of the woman
• Not all medical professionals in the US are down to give a woman who hasn't had children an IUD. If you encounter one of these medical professionals, please e-mail me. I'd like to start an online resource for women seeking family planning in the US, of doctors who will and will not respect our right to act on our biological impulses, like men do ALL THE TIME, without getting pregnant. Of course, I will phrase it better than that.

Shew. This Post Got Really Long. I Must Feel Very Passionate About This Subject
There are of course, other forms of birth control besides hormonal forms and IUDs. That would be another 10 pages. But the least physically intrusive**, if a woman is not already on hormonal birth control, and the one that is most readily available is the condom (I'd say abstinence, but that's no fun). So roll one on and get to having wonderful, consensual sex where you respect your partners' bodies.

Relationships, sexual or otherwise, cannot work unless there is good communication. I hope that having a better understanding of how birth control works will help you have more educated communication regarding birth control with the women in your life. Education is power. I hope that by learning about birth control, you can be empowered to be a more considerate and better partner.


*I'm saying "gametes" because it's slightly less graphic than "seed" although in my personal life, I'm more likely to say "seed" because it's more fun.

**I should also note that there's a reason I don't talk about natural family planning. It's because that's also no fun at all. It's really hard to not have sex when your body is at its most fertile, because that's what biology is TELLING YOU TO DO! Responding to what nature wants you to do is not being weak. It's being a living creature on this Earth. 

The 2013 Road Trippies: An Awards Show

The best way for me to document events is to make lists about them. One of the more entertaining types of lists is a list of awards. As many of you may or may not know, I recently relocated from West Virginia to Boulder Colorado by car. Without further ado, I proudly present....

The 2013 Road Trippies!

Best Place for a Brush with Celebrity: St. Louis, MO 

In addition to Chuck Berry's restaurant, Blueberry Hill, the Loop in St. Louis boasts a bowling alley, Pinup Bowl, that is owned by Nelly. If someone else is paying, stay in the Moonrise Hotel, a classy joint that looks like the 60s vomited all over it. Nelly likes to stay there, so get ready to get low!

Most Surprisingly Beautiful Part of the Country: Eastern Kansas

I was expecting to be bored all the way through Kansas. But actually, it was the most beautiful places I saw on the entire trip. Rolling hills, lots of green, windmills and cows hanging out in farm ponds. It was breathtaking.

Most Disturbing Evidence of Climate Change: 1st Prize: Western Kansas

                                                                          Runner Up: Southern Illinois

Western Kansas is a dry wasteland that people insist upon continuing to irrigate even though all of the streams and farm ponds have been dried up. I'm no expert on agriculture or climate change, but I do know that THIS IS NOT SUSTAINABLE! Of course, I was thinking these thoughts to my self as I sped along at 75 MPH in a car by myself bemoaning my broken A/C. But folks, we've got to stop depending on places where it doesn't rain anymore to grow our food for us.

Southern Illinois was in the midst of a huge flood. I grew up in a place where the rivers flooded pretty much every year, and there were occasional huge floods, but I'd never seen entire wooded areas filled with water. If only I could have filled my car with it and dumped it all over Western Kansas.

Largest Concentration of Beautiful People: Maysville, Missouri

I stopped in Maysville to visit a friend who goes to Berea College. He's currently working at this place called Open Source Ecology where they build plans for eco-friendly tractors that anyone can build and use. I think. Anyway, everyone there was really nice, Central Missouri is really pretty and the people at Open Source Ecology were incredibly generous, beautiful inside and out, and awfully easy on the eyes after several days on the road.

Just look at them. Aren't they the ones you want to have greeting you when you're road weary?

Best Travel Companion: 1st Prize: Kate F. Runner Up: My dad

My dad got me through the first day, driving 12 hours from Green Bank, WV to St. Louis. He bought me food, paid for gas, and drove when I got tired. I was expecting to drive by myself the rest of the way, but in Maysville, Missouri, I ran into the beautiful Kate.

We'd met before while I was visiting Berea a few years back. She was headed to Montana by way of Denver. She was the main reason I had such an enjoyable trip post-St. Louis. Without her, I never would have gone swimming in a reservoir in central Missouri, stuck around Open Source Ecology long enough to catch up with my friend and meet the founder of OSE, noticed the first glimpses of the Rocky Mountains, or driven around Oakley Kansas. It was nice to have someone to share my hotel room in Salina, Kansas and all of the trials and tribulations of the road. I wish her the best of luck in her new job in Montana and would travel with her any day! 

Best Rest Stop: Oakley, Kansas

They had a chandelier made out of antlers. And a diner. And booze. And this sign.

No Oakley Kansas, thank you.

Favorite Road Trip Bad Habit: Taking Pictures Out the Window While Driving

In my defense, it's a heck of a lot safer than texting while driving. And a lot better for my body than smoking or eating M&Ms.

Best Road Trip Anthem: National Anthem by Lana Del Rey

Thanks to Katie F. for introducing me to this song. Lana Del Rey is no Ke$ha, but this song was a fun one with a terrible message, but whatever I still listened to it on repeat. It kept me sane after my A/C crapped out on me in Western Kansas.

Best Road Trip Meal: Tudor's Biscuit World, Craigsville, West Virginia

I had to stop at Tudor's before I left the state. If you've never experienced the wonder that is Tudor's Biscuit World, book a flight to the Charleston, WV airport, rent a car, and drive to the nearest Tudors. They seem to be endemic to Southern West Virginia, although there are a few in Southern Ohio. My favorite thing to order is the Mary B, because I don't really like potatoes, but you really can't go wrong. Unless you're vegan or can't eat gluten. In which case, West Virginia is gonna be a hard state for you.

Best Surprise Upon Reaching My Destination:

My roommates in Boulder rule. They all sculpture MFA students at Colorado University. They are also friendly and generous. I'm excited to spend the summer living with them and getting to know them better!

Thanks for attending the 2013 Road Trippies! Until next time,

Janney

Get Out of the New One If You Can't Lend a Hand

I am sick and tired of people talking about the "good old days." If I hear one more tirade about how things used to be much better, how the economy used to be great, how you could drink from creeks by the side of the road and how people knew their neighbors and knew how to communicate without touch screens, I will throw my vaccinated, medicated, lily-white from lack of physical labor fist into someone's face. (Okay, maybe not, because that might mean breaking an acrylic nail).

I am an optimist, but I'm not an idiot. I know that the world we live in today has a lot of social, political, environmental and economic problems. But people seem to forget that the "goodle days" had a lot of problems too. Oh you know, like segregated drinking fountains, windows that were always covered in soot from burning coal 24/7 and the fact that everyone thought smoking was good for your health. There are still issues with our healthcare system, we're obviously still destroying our environment, and there are still a ton of racial systemic inequalities.

But I'm here to try and fix them. I'm not here to harbinge the end of the world or complain. If you want to die of dysentery while your oxen fords the stream, then be my guest. If not, you can join me as I use the power I have as a woman in the 21st century (in the "goodle days," I would have probably died in childbirth by now), using the technology that has been developed as well as the knowledge that has been passed down to me from our ancestors to make a change in the world for the positive.  I know that we can't fix every problem with the world today completely. The world will never be perfect, and if it was, it would be boring. So let's not waste our time and energy complaining. Let's get out there and try to alleviate what's wrong with the world today, and every day in the history of ever, because the "goodle days" don't exist.  Today exists, and it's the best day we have.

Come mothers and fathers throughout the land and don't criticize what you can't understand....your old road is rapidly aging. Please get out of the new one if you can't lend a hand, for the times they are a changing. - Bob Dylan 

What I Know About Love

Not a lot. But since I am a college graduate and a published Sexpert, I probably know more about relationships than you. Okay, kidding. But here are some of my observations.

1. Be an emotional risk-taker.
  If you have a crush on someone, just go for it. If you get rejected, you can spend that brain space on someone else, then go for it, get rejected, etc. If you're not constantly in a state of semi-heartbreak, you're not living life to the fullest.

2. Don't underestimate the power of physical and mental states on relationships.
  If you're dating an alcoholic, it's going to affect your relationship. Someone who is sick will probably not be able to give as much to you as you need out of them. Let it go. Forgive them. See no. 3.

3. Timing is everything.
  If you fall in love with someone while they're getting over a previous relationship, they will not be capable of loving you in the same way. They might think they are, but they're not. Move on. Wait. But move on first.
  You can love someone in many different ways, and they can love you back, but it won't work if the timing is off. It's okay. Carry the knowledge that you are loved with you as you find people who are where you are physically and emotionally when you are there.

4. Have Hoes in Different Area Codes
  Just kidding. But kind of. Having pen pals you'd love to date if you lived in the same place can carry you through the times where your town and its romantic prospects are getting you down.

5. "You are so attractive."
  Remember when I was talking about being an emotional risk-taker? I am an emotional risk-taker, and I've found that this phrase is the lowest risk, highest reward way to express interest in someone.

Case A:
Janney: Taylor Swift! It's good to see you! *hugs* You are sooo attractive!
Taylor Swift: Shut up! Youuu are sooo attractive! Do you want to go "listen" to "records"?

See? Both of us feel good and had a great time "listening" to "records." ;)

Case B:
Janney: Tea Leaf Green's Trevor Garrod! You are sooo attractive!
TLG's Trevor Garrod: Oh wow, thanks! Beautiful women tell me that all the time. I'm gonna go smoke some weed now byeeee.

In this case, Trevor Garrod feels good, and even though I was rejected, he implied that I am a beautiful woman. Plus, I didn't want to smoke weed, I wanted to make out. Even if this line isn't received in the best possible way, everyone still wins.

But I've never had telling someone that they were attractive not work out the way it worked out in Case A.

6. Never assume that you can understand someone else's relationship.
  I always say that the less I know about other peoples' relationships the better. Not every relationship involves monogamy in the traditional sense of the word, and that's not always a bad thing. Passing judgement on the relationships of others is not only cruel, but a huge waste of your time. Mind your own relationships, and stay out of those of others.
  The only exception to this rule is if the relationship is physically or emotionally abusive. In that case, stand by your friend.

7. It is easy to fall in love.
  I probably fall in love with someone once or twice a month. That's because it's the easiest thing to do in the world. Much harder is maintaining a real relationship with a person you've idolized. So keep your head, protect your heart, but not too much. Because it's the emotional risks that lead to the best stories, the best learning experiences, and the most happiness.

WOBC and Me: Part 2

I'm too busy doing finals (just kidding) to post a real blog post, so here's something I wrote that was on the WOBC blog about my hopes for the future: Is this embarrassing? This is embarrassing.

Also, this incredibly boring screenshot is a sneak peek of what I've been doing instead of writing exciting blog posts for your reading pleasure.

The Anatomy of A Small Town Tragedy

The other night, I had the good fortune to spend some time with someone who spent a good portion of his childhood growing up in my home county. While he only spent summers and one year of school in Pocahontas County, he probably comes the closest out of anyone in Oberlin to understanding what my experience there was like. When you come from a community that is different from the norm around you (and this applies for many types of communities, although I can only speak as a member of a rural community), it's nice to spend some time with someone who just "gets it." It's relaxing to not have to explain that you didn't have cell service or a mall 15 minutes away.

While we were talking and I was trying to find out who he knew in Pocahontas County (for a good old gossip sesh), he mentioned a former classmate of his from his time in PC, whose drug-related death during my sophomore year of high school shook our entire community. My friend talked about it in a way that no one who was living and attending school in Pocahontas County could have possibly talked about it. He wasn't exactly nonchalant about it, but he talked about it the same way you would talk about a stranger who your parents had used to illustrate a cautionary tale against drug use. Now I know that my friend wasn't trying to be a jerk or make light of the death of a young person. But he wasn't in Pocahontas County when this boy died, didn't have to attend a school full of shocked and sad students, didn't have to go to a funeral in the middle school gymnasium, didn't wear a black bracelet telling everyone to remember this student's name. While I didn't know the boy who died in any stronger way than you can know someone who leads your line in gym class, I had friends who were close to him. This was the first time I knew a young person who died. Seeing the pain of my classmates and the entire community cemented his death in my head and heart, and I carry the memory of their sadness with me wherever I go.  I can recall the date of his birthday more readily than I can recall the birthday's of most of my current friends. I can remember almost every class I went to that day, and trying to reach friends on my parents' tracphone on the soccer bus, to tell them that I loved them.

"Kids die every year at my school," a (now former) friend who went to a much larger school in West Virginia told me over instant messenger when I tried to explain my feelings to a peer outside the county. I don't remember many IM conversations with this person, but that one was one I'd never forget. It's true. Young people die all the time. But that doesn't mean that because your grief is not unique, it is any less valid.

This was not the last time I lost a classmate during high school. The second time, I was closer to the boy who died, and my own emotions ran the gamut from guilt that I wasn't the one who had died, to regret that I had never told this person how inspiring and interesting I found them. He was the only person my age I knew who did radio, and I like to think now that every time I am on the radio now, some of his kindness, humor, and creativity is being channeled through me. Three more former classmates have died since my high school graduation, and I know that their deaths had a huge impact on the people in Pocahontas County. Even though I was away when they happened, the deaths of these 19-22 year olds, two classmates since pre-school, and one friend from high school, had a huge impact on me. Away from my home and the grief of others, my sadness was more private, and in some ways, diluted. But it was still very real to me.

I think it's important to have people in my life who grew up in small towns like mine. They understand what it was like to swim in the river, cause trouble with Airsoft guns, stay up late playing music, know all of your neighbors, and everyone in your school. They probably even understand how quickly rumors spread, how kind people can be, and what it's like to lose a member of the community. But they can never possibly"get," (and it is unrealistic to expect them to,) exactly what it was like to be in your town, in your position, when a young person dies.


This post is dedicated to the memory of Loren, Logan, Jessie, Will, and Kayla. 

Wanted: Empty Room for Cool Girl and Small Cat

Room needed in Boulder ~August to August, with possibility of extension if everything works out ok. Responsible but underemployed 23 year old female seeks roommates who will appreciate my unique brand of humor and not judge me if I spend time sitting in my bathrobe loudly singing and playing guitar. Also must not judge other aspects of my lifestyle including but not limited to: occasional shower beer, occasional sleepover with member of opposite sex, frequent cookie baking (I'll share, because I need to perfect those high-altitude recipes). Male or female roommates are okay, as long as there is minimal drama and/or urine on the toilet seats. 4/20 friendly is fine, but I won't be taking advantage of it. Must not mind small cats who shed, but it's okay because I own a hand-held vacuum. Did I mention that I also come with a turntable, a sewing machine, and 3 pairs of cowboy boots?

Am I asking too much? Should I post this on Craigslist?

Dispatches from the Juicer: Day 1

I am going on a 3 day juice cleanse with my roommate and my boss.
Here is the evidence.

Day 1: 7:30 am
Holy shit why am I waking up this early it's a Sunday it's the flipping day of rest what was I thinking?

7:42 am
Yay I'm awake this is awesome let's walk to get our juice!

7:44 am
Roommate reminds me that we'll be coming back with lots of juice, and suggests we drive. Reluctantly, I put my bag down and get my car keys.

8:00 am
Yay breakfast juice yayayayay! Beets mangos limes apples yum yum yum!

8:10 am
Holy crap this is creating a lot of dishes for us to wash.

8:12 am
I'll save this juice for later.

8:25 am
Why are we still cleaning up? At least I have lots of juice left.

8:55 am
Driving in my car, feeling a little out of it. Write a song in my head where the lyrics are "Feel like I'm high, high on you"

8:57 am
Back home with a belly full of juice! Nap time!

9:05 am
I am so hungry. I can't remember what song I was trying to write earlier.

9:14 am
Screw napping! I'm gonna attend my online class! My stomach hurts

9:45 am
Ugh online class is really boring. If I get one thing out of this juice cleanse, it's the acceptance that I should never take another class online again. The whole online education movement is dumb.

10:00 am
Time for carrot juice! Yayayay yumyumyum!

10:12 am
I feel amazing! This rules! I've already planned my radio show and I'm almost done with this book. Heck yes. Heck yes!

11:42 am
Off to do my radio show! Yayay! Delicious salad juice in 15 minutes!

12:00 pm
Yum yum yum yum yum!!!!!!

12:34 pm
Does my show make any sense today? Am I making any sense?

12:44 pm
Wow 45s sound really bad on the 33 speed. Oopsies, gonna blame the juice cleanse!

1:04 pm
This is great! I'm so pumped! Look at all this new music I'm putting on my computer! New juice in an hour woohoo!

1:45 pm
I hope this juice isn't really weird.

2:00 pm
Boss is hinting that she might not be able to do the entire juice cleanse for 3 days. I am winning. I feel awesome!

2:08 pm
Begin to suspect that boss is bluffing. Geez this wilted kale salad I'm making looks really good. Maybe if I ate some raw food it would be fine?

2:15 pm
Eh, no one else wants to cave. Okay then.

2:30 pm
This is the messiest diet ever. I'm tired of washing strainers.

2:46 pm
Why am I still here? Let me go home with my dinner juice!

2:47 pm
Waddya mean, the juice in this glass jar is the last one for the day?

2:48 pm
Unlimited herbal tea? OH THAT'S AN AWESOME CONSOLATION FOR GOING OVER A WEEK WITHOUT COFFEE!

3:00 pm
I can do this I can do this I can do this.

3:12 pm
Oh! Friends on the porch! I'll stop in and say hi for a sec.

3:40 pm
Friends in the sunshine. Everything is great. Life is beautiful. What juice cleanse? This must be the feeling of calm and energy I hoped for!

3:50 pm
Back at home, roommate mentions thinking she is sleepy just because she has a good excuse to be sleepy. I am not sleepy! Woohoo! Internet!!!

4:15 pm
My urine looks pinkish? NBD it's probably just my stomach dissolving from not eating solid food!

4:20 pm
Stop being a baby. You're fine. You get more juice at 6. Unlimited tea, remember?

4:56 pm
Oh yeah, I put on some water to boil awhile ago. Tea time! And only 1 more hour until dinner juice! Yayayay yumyumyumyum!

Keep Calm and Don't Listen to Conspiracy Theorists

I currently have a lovely job working at a small juice/gluten-free/raw foods restaurant. I love my boss, my co-workers, the food, and the clients. I even love the boss's conspiracy-theorist mother, even though I disagree with many of the things she says. But today she pushed things too far, and too personal.*

We were talking about learning skills like canning, building fires, and other things that most folks don't know anymore but can be really important for human survival. At this point, we got to speculating about what it would be like if the power went out for a really long time. My boss's mother opined that a lot of people would die. "People on medications,..Diabetics,..people on SSRIs. Talk about a nation of zombies!"

I won't even touch on the fact that diabetes is not always something that people inflict upon themselves through poor lifestyle. Being ill or healthy has no relation to morality. But as someone who takes an SSRI and would survive the apocalypse and come out swinging, I took a lot of offense to the crack at people with depression.

You see, I was diagnosed with depression when I was 19. I knew I had it coming. Pretty much everyone on my mom's side of the family has some kind of mental health issue. Since my first major depressive incident, I've seen several therapists, read a ton of about depression, and done everything in my power to try and keep myself mentally healthy. I took time off of college. I stopped doing certain substances. But more importantly, I began taking Lexapro, an anti-depressant that is an SSRI.

You may say that people on SSRIs are zombies, but antidepressants have only helped me to be more alive.

Do you think I want to be taking a medication that makes me sometimes act like a moron after one glass of wine, and sometimes zap whatever remains of my energy after it's been drained by depression itself? Of course not! But if you think that diet, exercise, meditation, and prayer can cure depression, then you clearly have never had a serious mental health issue. My extended family would have saved so much time, money, and heartache, if dealing with mental illness had been as easy as just eating a vegan diet, or attending church more frequently.

If exercise and diet could cure depression, then the year before I was diagnosed with depression would have been the best one of my life. I exercised for almost an hour every day, and ate mostly fruits and vegetables. When I wasn't thinking about what I ate, I was ruminating on why I wasn't more popular, a better musician, better at school, and better at life. Each morning I weighed myself, and watched the pounds drop away. If I ate too much peanut butter, or an entire chocolate bar, I'd stick the end of a toothbrush down the back of my throat to get rid of the shame of doing what I desired. I was practically a gluten-free vegan, and I could have run a half-marathon, but I was miserable. I never want to feel that way again.

I started to eat more like a normal person during a summer of talk therapy. My struggles with bulimia finally ended a year later, after I'd been on Lexapro for around 3 months and in therapy for about a year. That summer, I ate meat, wrote, played music, worked really hard, made friends, and figured out how to appreciate myself. I made more of a contribution to society than I ever had been able to before.

When most people find out that I have depression, they're pretty surprised. But that's because like most people, I try to hide my worst self. I'm very hesitant to talk about why I am the way I am, because I don't always like that person. I still go through periods when I avoid people, and complain all the time because I'm feeling  all of the sadnesses of the world and others more strongly than I have space in my body to feel. My depression is something that I will always have to deal with, but thanks to the miracle of modern medicine and advances in talk therapy, it is something that I can acknowledge and work through, instead of giving in to the urges to hide or throw myself in front of a car.

 My mental health problems could have been a lot worse. I'm incredibly fortunate that I've been able to get my depression under control. My heart goes out to those who haven't had the support or means to treat their mental illnesses. It makes me sad that people like my boss's mother don't acknowledge that depression is a real problem and that science has made huge strides that can help people with mental illnesses be productive members of society.

There are many horror stories about anti-depressants, but for every person who has a bad reaction to the flu shot, there are even more who stay healthy all winter long.  Antidepressants are not a panacea for all sadness. You can't just throw drugs at a problem and expect it to go away. But the drugs sure can help a lot.

Currently, I'm at my happiest and healthiest. I love my body, I love my brain, and I love being alive. There are always aspects of my life that could be going a whole lot better. If life were perfect, it would be boring. Anti-depressants give me the ability to deal with these imperfections and use them as fuel for a rich, and interesting life. And if that makes me a zombie, then I'm okay with that.


*It should be noted that this woman had no idea that I have depression, and I intend to keep it that way, so she doesn't try to shove weird herbal remedies down my throat. She is a loving, caring, woman, who I'm sure had no intention to offend. Pre-antidepressants, I probably would have run from work crying, instead of channelling my anger into a piece of writing.

Misintextpreted

Disclaimer: I thought of this in my car and when I sat down to write it I realized that it's very similar to Katie Heaney's "Reading Between the Texts" on the Hairpin. I guess I'm not trying to read between the texts, as much as interpret innocuous things in a totally incorrect way. Or something.

Me: Hey hope your show last nite went well im trapped in a work nightmare but im sorry i missed it

Him: haha yeah thats ok

Me: What?! Haha work is stressful? Haha that I'm sorry?

Sane friend: I think he was "haha-ing" your work nightmare joke.

Me: It wasn't funny enough to warrant a "haha"

Sane friend: What did you want him to say? I'm pissed that you missed the show it couldn't go on with out you I broke down in tears on the stage?

Me: Maybe...

Him: Hey good luck on the job hunt.

Me: Good luck? Does he know something I don't? Is this supposed to guilt me into writing more cover letters because he knows I've spent the last two nights watching TV instead? Is he peeking in our windows and knowing that I'm not writing cover letters?

Sane roommate: No. I think he's trying to be nice.

Me: Why? What does he want?

Sane roommate: I think he's just being nice.

Me: I think I'll text him and ask him just in case.

Sane roommate: Please don't do that.

Him: Hows it going matey *in a pirate voice*?

Me: Did I miss Talk Like A Pirate Day again this year? I thought it was in September! How do I cleverly respond?

Sane friend: No I think he's just trying to get you to sleep with him.

Me: I should have never posted that Facebook status about Muppet Treasure Island influencing my taste in men.

Sane friend: Do you realize how creepy that is?

Me: Don't remind me.

Can We Just Make Ke$ha the Poet Laureate Already?

I have a much higher tolerance for pop music than the average person. Recently, I've been enamored with Ke$ha. Her new album Warrior kills it.

I think a lot of people dismissed Ke$ha pretty quickly after her single "Tik Tok" came out circa 2008. "What exactly does waking up feeling like P. Diddy mean?"
"Are there health benefits to brushing your teeth with a bottle of Jack Daniels?"

 I'll admit that when I first heard that song, I thought it was the worst thing to happen in pop music (this was before Bruno Mars. I lived in blissful ignorance of how terrible pop music can actually get). Without any context of who Ke$ha is as a person or who her fans are or what being a female pop musician was going to mean at the end of the first decade of the 2000s, Tik Tok is, quite frankly, really stupid. Was this girl a joke? Was she going to survive the partying lifestyle she sang about so cavalierly long enough to have a real music career?

The answer to the second question has been yes. Artistic license is a beautiful thing. And the answer to the first question is that if Ke$ha is a joke, she's a joke that she's definitely in on. Ke$ha probably doesn't live the skeezy, glittery, booze-fueled, sex-filled lifestyle that she sings about (although if she does, more power to her). Ke$ha is not another blonde plastic-type creation of the men of the music industry to sell records to teenage girls. Ke$ha had nearly perfect SAT scores and has an IQ of over 140. She's active as an LGBTQ and animal rights activist. It's been said by an Atlantic blogger that Ke$ha's autobiography is 2012's version of the Feminist Mystique.

Ke$ha knows how to weave dance anthems that tell stories of a woman who no matter how sleazy the location, is always in control of her situation. "C'mon" is a song about a woman initiating a one night stand, something that rarely happens in today's overtly sexual pop music. Men are mostly the ones calling the shots. "C'mon" is essentially a highly-danceable song about having communicative, consensual, excellent sex.

C'mon 'cause I know what I like

And you're looking just like my type

Let's go for it just for tonight

C'mon, c'mon, c'mon

Now don't even try to deny

We're both going home satisfied

In relationships, Ke$ha does not sit back and allow her heart to get broken like Taylor Swift. "Thinking of You," sounds like it could be a sappy breakup anthem. On the contrary, the song captures the bittersweetness of thinking about an ex, but also the empowerment that comes from moving on from heartbreak. In typical Ke$ha style, it features a ton of profanity and a killer dance beat.

Can I get you later?

Got to get to stage

In a brand new city

Getting laid

Don't we all just wish we could move on from our breakups by going on tour and having lots of sex?

Later in the album, in "Wonderland," we hear Ke$ha's voice free of vocal fry and much sweeter than in any of her hits. Girl can sing.  In this song, Ke$ha's tone is sentimental and pensive. This change from constant party talk is not brought on to reminisce about a boy who broke her heart, but rather to reminisce about her female friends.

Ain't it funny how the time flies? 

Fades into gold

 Now I wanna do a drive-by

 but I can't find the road 

Look guys, Ke$ha just wants to go back to a simpler time like the rest of us! She doesn't want to be an adult either. Which explains why her lyrics and imagery paint a such a compelling world of drag shows, gold trans ams, glitter covered floors, dancing, staying up all night and getting it on. We can't be creatures of the night all day every day and be functional, happy, healthy, human beings. Ke$ha is a feminist brain genius and understands this. She provides us with the sleaze and good times that our darkest sides crave. And if you don't have a dark side that makes you want to go to drag shows wearing nothing but glitter and a make out buddy, her music is still hilarious and good, sleazy, fun (or so I imagine). We need Ke$ha. We need her to remind us to take ourselves less seriously. We need a misfit who stays true to herself and isn't quirky for the sake of being quirky (*cough* Zooey Deschanel *cough*). We need her as an intelligent, strong woman in an industry that equates keying someone's car as revenge on a cheater with feminism. We need someone willing to sing ridiculous songs and "cut the bullshit out with a dagger." We need the vivid imagery of "that magic in your pants" to make us blush while we're riding in the car with our mothers.

So thank you Ke$ha. You R who you R and I am incredibly grateful for it. Take your smart, feminist, sparkly self and make some more hits.