how *do* you solve a problem like anticipation?

When cleaning out one's closet a week before Thanksgiving, it just makes good space-saving sense to pull out the 4.5-foot apartment-sized Christmas tree out and set it up in one's apartment-sized apartment, don't you think? Yeah, me too. I know it's a bit on the early side but while I was doing it, I figured I might as well get out the decorations and have at it. I'm antsy, damnit and I will not be ashamed.

Even though decoration-wise, I'm somewhat skipping over Thanksgiving, I'm very much excited for it this year; more so than I have been in the past. Since having moved to Chicago a gazillion years ago (okay, seven), I've spent several Thanksgivings by myself, which doesn't bother me. But this year, the parental units are hopping on the train, which will allow us to finally spend the holiday in my home instead of theirs. I do wish my brother could tag along so the four of us could spend it together but it gets a bit easier every year to adapt to the ever-changing holiday traditions.

This year, we're changing it up big time by not cooking dinner on Thanksgiving Day and instead, going out. Mom and Dad and I will be headed to for what I've heard is a delicious traditional Thanksgiving dinner. They'll be arriving a week from today, which is the day of the tree lighting ceremony at Daley Plaza. I've seen the tree plenty of times but I've never been to the ceremony and it's something my parents would love to see as well, so that's Item #1 on the intinerary.

'Cause what's not to love about watching Christmas come alive in the city?

(Photo stolen from here.)

The rest of the plans for the long weekend involve roaming around to see the downtown holiday lights / decorations and Friday night, we'll be going to The Sound of Music Sing-a-Long at Music Box Theatre, an awesome within-walking-distance theatre known for its independent and foreign films.

The next weekend? It's off to New York City with my mother and aunts and cousins for a Girls' Christmas Weekend!

I heart the holidays.

a couple of photos that have been in hiding

I'm in the process of trying to update my flickr account to include all of the photos I've taken over the years and realized I should totally be taking advantage of the "blog this" feature they offer.

So that's what I'm doing.

IMG_1921
Originally uploaded by jlisereau

The Windmill. Full of arts & craftsy goodness, the world's best homemade Amish treats, and super tasty garlic pretzels. It's a regular stop for my parents during the summer but I get to tag along whenever I get back to Penn Yan for a few days when it's open.

IMG_1922
Originally uploaded by jlisereau

One of the best things about The Windmill...in-season fruits and veggies. Okay, so I'm not big on veggies. But some of the fruits, I very much enjoy.

In lieu of a real post

Ya know, one in which I say something fabulously witty or introspective?

I give you this.



Carry on.

oh, the commentary I could give

But I won't because I don't know if my parents have ever caught wind of this blog. And if they have, they probably would rather not read about all of their daughter's thoughts.


Discovered via Jezebel, photo courtesy of Bauer-Griffin.

My profound thanks to the both of them.

a moment, a love, a dream, a laugh

Ever since seeing (500) Days of Summer the other weekend, I've been listening to this song like it's going to cease to exist at any moment.

When I was...

four years old, I had a tonsillectomy. From what my mother has told me, one night she awoke to me vomiting blood, rushed me to the hospital and I soon went home sans tonsils.

While visiting my parents not too long ago, I found in what used to be my bedroom closet, the only thing I remember about the entire experience.


A pin my brother, who was about eight years old at the time, bought for me in the gift shop.

He's had a lot of sucktacular days lately and I think he has a few more to push through before coming out the other side stronger. As much as I hate the thought of parting with my tangible memory, I'm thinking of sending it back to him. I don't recall how it made my four-year-old self feel when he gave it to me but I imagine it must have made me feel like everything was going to be okay simply because I knew I was loved.

Here's hoping twenty something years later, it can do that again.

it is NOT a weapon

A bunch of safe sex advertisements

Most of these, I like. If MTV is looking to turn me one while reminding me of the importance of being safe, consider it done! And the one with the girl at her computer makes me giggle like a schoolgirl.

This one, on the other hand, does not:

Image #1:I loathe "penis as a weapon" imagery but whatever. It does have the ability to become a deadly weapon. Fine, I get it.

Image #2:Right, yes. If I take precautions, it's less likely said penis will become a deadly weapon.

The problem I have is with Image #3, which I'm providing in a link because of the main problem I have with it: The copy reads, "Girls, protect yourself. Demand your partner wear a condom."

Really? Did nobody in the marketing group responsible for this ad think it could possibly be triggering to someone who has been a victim of sexual assault or gun violence? Hell, I haven't been and it still makes me cross me legs and cringe to see a gun pointed at some random woman's snatch. Then again, it's really not some random woman. It's some random headless, humanity-free hole because let's face it...nobody wants to look at a face when they're thinking about fucking (or hurting) a hot, naked chick, do they?

Which leads me to the second point. This woman is very obviously shaved or waxed. So not only is a gun pointed at her, it's pointed at the oh-so-pretty-every-woman-must-have-one-so-she-looks-like-a-little-girl bald bajingo. I've got absolutely nothing against keeping the nether regions nice and tidy but for the love of 70s porn, can I please see a stray hair somewhere? And the hairless images never come with tips about the pros and cons of shaving or waxing. It comes along with the subtle and sometimes not so subtle implication that dudes dig it so we should be digging it too. Apparently, even with a gun pointed at it, it needs to meet the socially-accepted standards of beautiful.

Now, the copy. Girls, protect yourself. Demand your partner wear a condom. I'm all for that. As every person does, I have every right in the world to decide how someone comes into contact with and touches my body. Every woman absolutely should take it upon herself to make sure she (and her partner) are protected. But who's making the demands here? If you're the one sans gun power, you're the one without the ability to make demands. The goal of any safe sex ad should be to empower the people looking at it to realize they have the right and responsibility to ensure their safety and sexual health. I see no female empowerment when a gun is pointed between one's legs.

I asked a male friend for his opinion and what he thought when first seeing the ad. His response was:

That a man's penis can be seen as a weapon and some men see women as a place to use their weapon.

Interesting. Sex (whether safe or not) wasn't the first thing on his mind...violence was.

I'm almost done reading The Purity Myth: How America's Obsession with Virginity Is Hurting Young Women and this ad reminded me of the tools abstinence supporters use to get their silly little point across, which are almost always rooted in fear. And it drives me absolutely batty when sex is portrayed as something terrifying.

Scaring people into not having it is not the way to get people to start subscribing to your idea of morality. Shaming those who do is not the way to show them the error of their ways (especially since it's neither shameful nor sinful). Withholding it is not a way to punish a nagging spouse. Using it as a bartering tool is not the way to get what you want. Manipulating, coercing, forcing someone to do it is not the way to assert your misplaced feelings of dominance.

It is NOT a weapon. It's sex.

Dear Will Arnett,

Not only do I think you're one of the most hilarious men ever but I also very much enjoy watching you kiss a dude.

Thank you.

Great To See You (featuring Will Arnett, Amy Poehler,
Peter Serafinowicz and Sarah Alexander)

math (not girls) is evil

A friend posted the following picture to his Facebook page, leaving me no choice but to blog about it since I can't say nearly what I want about it on that site.



Where does a girl begin? I guess with a disclaimer. I tend to think there are a total of probably two or three people who actually read this blog but what do I know? If there are others reading it who know where and from whom the proof originated, I'd like to state that my response to it has nothing at all to do with him as a person. Quite honestly, I think he's fantastic. But this is about the sucktastic math. Could he truly believe girls are evil? I suppose it's possible. Is the math proof nothing more than proof of his sarcastic, hilarious nature? I suppose it's possible. Either way, it got me thinking. The fruits of that labor is what follows.

1. Girls require time and money.
This is the part I take the most issue with. If you want to talk in terms of majority, sure, I'd probably be willing to bet that within the context of intimate relationships between people (of the opposite sex), more money may be spent on the woman than on the man. But I think that may be the case because society is constantly reminding us what the expectations are. The guy courts the girl (I fucking hate the word court but it seems most appropriate) by wooing her with gifts of some sort. He buys her flowers, he takes her out to dinner, he gives her jewelry in the middle of February. Sure, people defy these expectations but again, if we're talking about majority here, I'd be willing to bet the majority of people still operate under that dating mentality. If a woman offers to pay for dinner, it's often thought of as emasculating the guy. When was the last time a woman came to her date's door with a bouquet of flowers? Are both of those instances acceptable? Absolutely. Are either of them encouraged? Nope. Should they be encouraged? Hell yes. Not because you should never split a dinner bill between you and not because flowers are the greatest gift of all but because if there are going to be expectations, they shouldn't be based on who has the tits.

I believe relationships are about give and take and I believe they're about helping the person you're with live a happier life than if he or she was living it without you. If that means giving someone flowers, candy, and jewelry...great. If that means giving someone a first edition of their favourite book while growing up, drawing them a picture, or spending Valentine's Day listening to your favourite album rather than going to a concert...great. But having to spend money on your significant other should never be an expectation.

People are raised differently and grow up in different environments. I don't remember wanting for a lot as a kid but my parents never spoiled me or my brother. When they could, they gave us the things we wanted. When they couldn't, they explained why and that was that. We never had brand new cars, I had a job in high school, they never encouraged me to go into a profession in which I could make a million dollars a year. My best memories from childhood aren't anything that money was responsible for. They're the times we spent at my aunt and uncle's house having dinner together. They're of my dad always offering to drive me around with my friends. They're of my brother and I playing Scrabble (I'll take a "B," Chuck!) after it was time for lights out and we were both in our respective bedrooms. There was never much importance placed on money in our family because it was just never was something anyone in my immediate family cared much about.

And as an adult, that's stayed with me, as it has with the rest of my family. Life would easier if we didn't have to worry about it but we do and I accept that. The simple truth is that I'm responsible for getting the money I need to put a roof over my head, clothes on my body, and food in my tummy. And that's really it the extent of it. Anything above and beyond that is a bonus and should I want to share it with someone, I absolutely will. Not because I think I need to but because I want to.

2. Time is money.
Whatevs. I hate most quotes that revolve around the importance of money. Things are what they are. And the time I spend doing Act A is nothing more than the time I spend doing Act A. For most people, their time is spent doing something solely for the monetary pay-off; that's an unfortunate (I think) fact of life. But there are plenty of things one can do to fill one's time that do not need money to happen. And that doesn't necessarily mean what you're doing is preventing you from making more money. Stupidly untrue phrase.

3. Money is the root of all evil
I don't have it in me to get into this one because it's going to wind up being a whole philosophical bit about evil and I'm just not feelin' that. But to sum up, I do not believe the most evil, heinous things that have happened throughout history had much to do with a desire for money or a lack of money. Or much to do with money at all, really.

So.

I believe what we have here is a fallacious mathematical proof. Girls are not evil.

But math? Math is still evil. That will always be a truth.

what percentage of paycuts suck?

10%.

We had a town hall-style meeting the other day at work during which we were told of the impending screwing the economy will be providing us. As of July 1st, all employees will be given a schedule that gives us every other Friday off without pay, which equals about a 10% paycut.


We'll be expected to adhere to the schedule HR provides in order to "ensure the firm remains open every Friday" but should we need to adjust it, it will be at the discretion of our Managing Directors and seeing as though I work for some of the more relaxed people here, I'm hoping it won't be a problem ganking the Fridays I actually need. A couple weeks ago, I decided to use one of my free Southwest flights for my birthday weekend because this year, it falls on Labor Day, which is already a paid day off. So come the morning of September 4th, I'll be flying out to Denver to meet my best friend and her hubby, spending the day in Denver, and driving back to their place in Nebraska for the rest of the weekend. Hopefully, I can work it so that I can take that Friday as my unpaid day and save a PTO day. Plus, I believe there are a few remaining holidays this year that land on a Friday, in which case we've been told we have to take the day before as our unpaid day. It's still unpaid but it does make for a longer holiday weekend.

Overall, I'm displeased. I had a big, long post written out the other day about how my financial situation is looking up and how great it feels to watch my available balance on my credit cards consistently going up instead of playing seesaw with me. The paycut isn't going to send me to the streets but it's certainly going to put a noticeable dent in things and halt the progress I've made so far this year. I'm trying very hard to put a positive twist on things and I do truly appreciate the fact that the downside (a cut in pay) is accompanied by an upside (bonus day off). Hell, I'm not calling the state for a measly unemployment check this morning, so I've got that goin' for me.

But it still sucks ass.

Oh Seth, how I love you. All 5'4" of you

Too funny not to share.

oh. my.

Thank you, Internet. Never again will I be bored with you.

mullet with headlights

Quite possibly the funniest literal video ever. And a reminder of just how strange this video was.

springtime is doing things to me this year

Josh and I met online. I had posted what I'm sure was a stunningly witty ad on Craislist and we emailed back and forth a bit before we met one night for a few drinks at Kuma's. We had a lovely time and our conversation revolving around the theory that members of the opposite sex know if they would sleep with the other within the first few minutes of their first meeting quickly led to our acknowledgment that a resounding "yes" was our answer when we asked ourselves that question.

We had some kind of non-memorable food in order to stave off drunkenness and after having just enough drinks to give ourselves a good buzz but still maintain our everyday judgement, we headed outside to catch the bus back to our respective apartments. While huddled in the doorway of the abandoned nail salon across the street, a little kissing ensued. And then a little groping ensued. And when bordering-on-indecent-exposure behaviour was about to ensue, we pulled away from each other and both managed to ask, "cab?"

We cabbed it back to my place where we spent the night together and quickly began what would turn into a pattern of...fairly constant togetherness.

One of our conversations at the bar earlier that night was about his love of all things Whedon-esque and how he couldn't get over the fact I had never seen an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I agreed to watch a few episodes to see if I'd like it, the next day I added the first season to my Netflix queue, and when the little gift of awesomeness made its way to my mailbox, he came over one night after work, we started watching, and after the third episode, I was completely hooked. On Buffy and lounging in bed watching it together.

As a theatre techie and a writer, he did a lot of volunteer work at a local theatre, so on occasion, we caught a show. We met up some nights after work and grabbed a few drinks. One night we met at Simon's, hung out and talked for a bit and walked back to my place, stopping at the park by my place and playing on the playground for what seemed like forever.

But our routine quickly became one of him coming over after work, chatting about our days, ordering in, watching some Buffy episodes, hardly ever being able to watch an entire episode without having to pause it for a bit. I think at one point, he hadn't slept in his own apartment in just under two weeks because he was always at mine.

We pretty much met, had sex, and found ourselves in a relationship. But it was never an isolated event, it was never a "must happen" kind of thing, and it, by far, wasn't all there was to it. I remember he emailed me once asking if I would download some BG episodes for him if be brought over CDs, and joking that we could work out some dirty, filthy things as payment. I responded by telling him I was glad to download them for him but that I've never been a believer in quid pro quo and would never expect anything in return, especially anything sexual. His next email is quite possibly one of best ones I've ever received and simply said, "just so you know, I like you. A lot."

It was pretty routine but it was just good. I think Mr. Cusack said it the best...he "didn't make me miserable, or anxious, or ill at ease. You know, it sounds boring, but it wasn't. It wasn't spectacular either. It was just good. But really good."

It worked.

Until it didn't. And then it did again in a more casual capacity.

And then it didn't again. For good.

As I was walking through the lobby leaving work the other day, I'm 99% sure I saw him outside. He stopped for a second. I stopped for a second. And we just kept walking.

And this whole slew of memories had been bouncing around in my head ever since.

outside my window...

growth in an unlikely place.

this makes me :)

Seeing older couples together makes me happy. As does piano music. An older couple having what appears to be a great deal of fun playing the piano together = copious cuteness!

behold, the Virgo-ness

I'm a list kind of girl. Before packing for any kind of trip, I make a list of every little thing I plan on shoving in a suitcase and cross them off the list as I pack. When I have several things to do at work and start to feel overwhelmed with them, I make a list and slash through them as they're accomplished. It's not the speed with which I complete the tasks on any given list, it's being able to see the confirmation of my accomplishments. And since I have a tendency to forget things like a senile old woman standing outside her house thinking, "where the hell do I live?", it just helps to know what I need to get done.

This is the first page of a two-page "to do" list I made...jesus, quite a few years ago. When reading through it, I found that I can cross off "go to Chinatown" without even having realized I accomplished that one, which is a delightful feeling. On page two, I found "become a rape crisis counselor," which I've been doing now for about a year and a half. Thankfully, there are a few more things crossed off on the second page than there are on this first page and there are things on this page I no longer care about. I couldn't care less about owning a pair of expensive shoes since I generally hate things on my feet and I certainly am never going to suffer the physical pain of wearing 3-inch heels for the sake of making my feet look prettier or my legs longer. Is owning a pair going to make me a better person? No. So not only would it be a waste of my money, it would be a waste of my energy. I also don't have much of a desire to learn the saxophone anymore but I think I may replace that one with "relearn playing the flute." I'll shuffle things around a bit as a few experiences (go camping and play hide 'n seek) are things I've already done but have enjoyed and would like to do again. It's always good to re-examine one's priorities. And of course, I'll add some newbies to the list.

For quite some time now, for a number of reasons I could list and a number of reasons I don't even realize, I've let the list fall by the wayside. It's been hanging on my refrigerator exactly as it is in this photo for over a year. That's a year of having a constant reminder of random little and not-so-little things I want to do in life taunting me from my tiny little kitchen.

Fuck that. Hell, not everything on the list even takes a great deal of effort on my part. How difficult is it to add a movie to my Netflix queue and spend two hours watching it once it gets here? Not very. Other things like traveling and the very few experiences that involve someone else (having sex with myself couldn't be nearly as enjoyable as shared public indecency) will take quite a bit more effort than those I can accomplish entirely on my own. But the point has never been to just do the things that are simple or take little effort. The point has been to do the things I want to do. To put in whatever amount of energy and effort it takes to just do them.

And I haven't. So to that, as I said a paragraph ago in my ever-so-classy way, fuck that.

finally, a chance to use the Buffy cookie dough analogy!

My father asked me once what I think are the best choices I've made for myself so far in life. It didn't take me a minute to answer him: 1. going to St. Bonaventure, 2. moving to Chicago, 3. my trip to Portland / Seattle.

Until this past weekend, I hadn't been back to Bonaventure since the day my parents and I packed up my little Ford Escort and their cars and moved me back to Penn Yan. I've always wanted to go back but not for an alumni function or anything, just...for me.

I haven't kept in touch with my college friends much until finding them all on Facebook. Even now, it's a Facebook type of friendship where we have a little interaction on there and that's it. But there are very few things about my four years there that I look back on with anything less than supreme fondness.

For a girl whose family has always meant the world to her, moving to school was a bitch for me. In a lot of ways, it was harder than moving 12 hours away and here to Chicago. Like a lot of people headed off to college, it was the first time I lived away from my family and my closest friends. My friend Catie and I had breakfast the morning before we were headed off and I remember standing at our cars afterward, hugging and crying and my telling her she was the one I really didn't want to leave.

It was the first time I lived up close and personal with complete strangers. I met people and we had a blast and we went to classes (for the most part) and we grew into the people most of us probably thought we'd never become. I remember little things about my time at school; the time we got into trouble for drinking in our dorm room the first night of our sophomore year, the time we took booze and my friend wore my green bathrobe to class for St. Patrick's Day, the time we almost started a fire in the lounge, the first time we got high with the Hot R.A. But when I think about the years spent there collectively, I remember the person I felt I was when I got there and the person I knew I was the morning I left. And I'm still amazed.

Our visit last weekend affected me more than I had prepared myself for and I think it's because it was really time for me to go back. Until recently, I've felt like someone completely other than who I know myself to be and I was ready for a reminder of just how far I've come since I hugged my parents and they told me they're just a phone call and two hours away.

For me, college really was the beginning of figuring out who I am. It was the first time I realized I could truly make it on my own (as much as one is on their own when their parents are helping pay for school and helping pay for me to live while there). For maybe the first time, I felt like someone other than a daughter and a sister and a niece. After changing majors three times, it was the first time I realized all I really want to do is read and write good stuff. The first time I considered myself to be a feminist. The first time I really had to study and work hard in order to meet my own standards. I don't know at what moment but at some point in those four years, I knew I was going to eventually move away from New York.

A lot of people put a lot of stock into a college degree but I've got to say that I couldn't care less that I walked away with a piece of paper telling me I have a B.A. in English. I walked away from college having learned just what possibility means. And I walked away having started to truly grow up and into the person I hope to be. The one I'd like to be. The one I will be, really.



After having taken the last of my photos this past weekend, I laid back on the grass next to the "E" on the beautiful central New York afternoon it was and thought about my time there. And my time since then. And the time I haven't yet experienced. I wasn't then but as I write this (and having just mentioned it and its everlasting relevance in conversation), I'm reminded of one of my favourite Buffy moments.

"...I'm cookie dough. I'm not done baking. I'm not finished becoming whoever the hell it is I'm going to turn out to be. I make it through this and the next thing and the next thing and maybe one day I turn around and realize I'm ready. I'm cookies. And then, you know, if I want someone to eat me...or enjoy warm, delicious cookie-me, then that's fine. That'll be then. When I'm done."

the kindness of strangers

At work, we usually steal a few extra moments for lunch but I rarely have 90 minutes to do whatever I want in the middle of the day. Hell, I often don’t know what to do with myself when I have the entire day to do whatever I want but as long as it’s not work, I’m okay with sitting in a big room with people from all walks of life just waiting to be pulled into a jury room.

When we were told we could escape for lunch, I headed across the street to Corner Bakery, completely forgetting that everyone and their sister goes to lunch at Noon. Luckily, there was a seat across from a woman sitting and enjoying her salad. She politely said, “sure you can” when I asked if I could sit with her and proceeded to tell me we could pretend we met to have lunch together. Why not!

We exchanged pleasantries (except our names, now that I think about) and she told me she’s a music editor for a small Catholic publication. Religion isn’t my thing but to each his / her own. She plays the keyboard and basically spends her days reading music, finding composition errors, and correcting them. It’s a small, laid back publishing house and she loves her job. I told her I think that sounds like a fantastic way to spend her days and when she asked what I do, I gave the obligatory “I’m an administrative assistant at a tax firm,” which I don’t really utter with a great deal of enthusiasm.

I went on to tell her that I’m a mixture, as I’m sure plenty of people are, of left-brained and right-brained. My general love of reading and writing and music and doing my part, however big or small, in creating them, reassures me I’m a creative person. But I’m also a lover of…order and direction and linear thinking. Want me to do something? Tell me what needs to be done, a general “how to go about it”, and I’m good to go. I often wonder if I could make a living off my creative side because I need to be held accountable. I need order and direction and structure in my life. The creative part of me has always been an outlet and not something I live and breathe every day that results in a paycheck. I often think how great it would be to be a writer and make a living with it but I often think that I don’t want my passion to be turned into…a means to an end. Sure, I’d love to be able to do something I love and make money but in a lot of ways, I just don’t want what I love to be what I rely on to live. I want it to be what I rely on…to grow and live better and happier. Something that’s just for me, when and how I want it to be.

We got to talking about writing and music and creative endeavors and despite the fact that music has always been a part of her life, something I think most people consider to be a very creative act, she’s not much for reading novels but is a great admirer of those who can write and she wishes she could.

I told her about National Novel Writing Month and that I’d decided to shoot for taking part in it this year. That is, until about a week or so ago when I was bored at work, my mind was wondering, and it wondered right into some ideas about what I could write about. So I told a complete stranger what I’ve, until now, only told one person. That I’ve started writing…something. Screw November. As much as I often believe “procrastination pays,” why the hell wait around eight months when I can very easily get started now? Where it will take me, I have no idea. But it’ll lead somewhere.

We got to talking about how, thanks to luck and randomly meeting someone in the field, she got into the publishing side of things and the fact that I’ve always wanted to get into publishing. She then told me, “keep cultivating those writing skills. I love music but as soon as you play a note, it’s gone. The written word…it’s out there. It’s permanent. It takes talent and skill to be able to create that and I envy those who can.”

Helping decide someone’s legal fate wasn’t in the cards for me today and I’m now comfy and cozy at home. But I consider it an all-around productive, enlightening, quite delightful day.

I may start making a list

Because there is a great deal of Golden Girls awesomeness that I would like in my possession.

Last year, Santa didn't bring me the bag I wanted. But perhaps this year, he'll realize just what a good girl I am and reward me with this little beauty right here. Or maybe I'll just shell out the $6.95 and reward myself.

If you look closely, you'll notice the pendant is made from a Scrabble tile. I want my girls on the front and the letter G, which is worth 2 points, on the back, please.

Golden. Girls. G squared!

I've. Gotta. Get.

EDIT: Well, fuck me right on their wicker furniture. It sold out today.

fear: big overture, little show

In an attempt to drown out and ignore what I can of my work environment, I've been watching Buffy. Well, minimizing the screen and listening, really. One of my all-time favourite episodes is in one of my all-time least favourite seasons.

In Fear, Itself, it's Halloween in Sunnydale and the scoobies are headed to a frat party horror house, where they find themselves facing their own fears. Willow's afraid she'll be unsuccessful stepping up her magic abilities. Xander, the only member without superpowers (Buffy - slayer, Willow - witch, Oz - werewolf, Anya - former vengeance demon), fears he doesn't fit in with the rest of the gang now that they're all in college and he isn't. Oz, who keeps himself caged three nights out of the month, is afraid of going all wolfy and hurting his friends. Buffy, after having slept with a college guy who wasn't looking for a relationship but just to get into her pants, has growing fears about serious relationships and letting people into her life. And Anya...well, Anya is seriously afraid of bunnies. 'Cause c'mon, they got them hoppy legs and twitchy little noses!

At the frat house, a fear demon is inadvertently released and in different ways, their fears manifest and scare the bejeesus out of them. When the demon finally rises, he winds up being only a few inches tall. After he tries for a minute to be creepy and scary, Buffy laughs, squashes him with her shoe, and they all go home and eat candy.

Forty-some minutes of Whedon-witty entertainment and one simple little message: fear, itself is actually really small. You spot it, you squash it, you go home and eat candy.

At one point in the episode, my least favourite character tells Buffy he thinks she seems like the kind of person who makes things hard on herself. Yeah. Um. Hi. Right here. When it comes to squashing fear in its tracks, my natural response is usually easier said than done.

But that's a piss poor attitude. It doesn't have to be the case and it often shouldn't be as difficult as I make it. Some of the best things that have ever happened to me weren't things I had planned. They're things that just happened. And if I don't allow for change, I don't allow for the possibility of...well, any and everything. I think it certainly takes work to overcome certain fears but the things I seem to be afraid of these days aren't really of that variety.

I fear change. And it's been sucking the life out of me because even though I've felt it before and I'll feel it again, it's never quite been to this degree. I think maybe I've let some things get so out of control that I've been overcompensating when trying to get back to a comfortable balance. But the simple truth is that the things I have no control over...I can't make them how I need them to be. Because how I need them to be is really just how I want them to be. I can fight and scream and take it out on people at work or my family or most often, myself, and I can watch that accomplish absolutely nothing. Or I can focus on the things I can control and simply accept and deal with the things I can't.

Hell, I left everything and everyone I know and love, moved to Chicago with $62 to my name, and feel pretty satisfied with and proud about that decision. That's not someone who fears change. That's someone who can't fucking wait for it.

I'm going to reintroduce her.

suck this

I'm a bit conflicted about this OB tampon ad, which was created by an all-male creative team in Switzerland. (clickety click)

On one hand, I'm a member of the "vampires are hot" camp. Biting. Fear. Pain. Yes please. I also like that the ad is an acknowledgement that once a month, blood comes out of a vagina. I have a very low tolerance for ads relating to menstruation that have nothing to do with the purpose of the product they're selling. In the case of tampons, it's to absorb blood. I don't want to see women frolicking around doing gymnastics or watch a woman swimming. Just give me the facts about what the product is going to do. Much like birth control pills. Sure, they often help with one's complexion and for those who get uncharacteristically emotional in the days right before their periods, it can help make you feel like you're in a bit more control of your feelings. And sure, there are plenty of women who take the pill for regulating their periods and / or any other number of female health concerns that don't have to do with preventing pregnancy. But for the most part, the purpose of birth control pills is to prevent yourself from getting knocked up. Yet very few commercials or advertisements for birth control actually say anything that even vaguely sounds like, "if you take this pill every day, you can fuck without reproductive consequences." And I think they should.

I also don't believe the act of going down on a woman who has her period is icky and gross. I understand it may not be everybody's cuppa tea and that's fine...to each his / her own. But I don't believe there's a week out of every month where certain sex acts are off the table. Hell, survey a group of women who are all days away from their period and quite a number of them are going to tell you their overtime-working hormones are partly responsible for desperately wanting to throw their legs up behind their heads and engage in any and all sex acts. So I love the fact that a bunch of men came up with this ad and I'm sure, at some point in their brainstorming session, realized it may evoke thoughts or images of oral sex while a girl is having her period.

On the other hand, vamp teeth made of tampons? Please. Those things aren't going to pierce anything and everyone knows a vampire isn't just gonna dive in and start sucking. He's going to bite, get an artery and go to town. So the whole "tampon as teeth" thing is just silly. And just makes me giggle.

Which, I suppose, may have been the intention. And if that's the case, then the advertising fellas have succeeded. Where they haven't succeeded is in giving me even one reason, if I were a purchaser of tampons, to buy OB's brand instead of any of the other brands.

And isn't that pretty much the main objective of the advertising world?

mine always took the time

A PSA from the White House's fatherhood initiative



I love this.

I've always been a daddy's girl. My parents still tell the story of the day I was born and how my father kept telling my mother, "Hon, I just gotta go see here again" as he ran off every few minutes to go look at me hanging out with the other adorable newborns.

I'm sure there are plenty of biological and / or psychological reasons for the closeness a lot of fathers and daughters share but for me, I've simply always felt a closer bond with my father. When I was young, I couldn't explain it beyond, "I like Dad better" (not that I ever said that aloud. And not that our father/daughter relationship can be that simplified nor my relationship with my mother that minimized). But as I got older, I grew to realize that I have more in common with my father than I do with my mother. I have a lot of his more desirable traits and more of her less than desirable ones. Whether it was a conscious decision or not, I think I distanced myself from my mother because I saw in her the things I'd hoped I wouldn't see in myself as I grew up. In my father, I saw all the things I'd hoped I would be when I grew up.

They both were perfectly good parents and they played an active role in my brother's and my life. But my father drove my giddy friends and I from house to house. He dropped us off at the Debbie Gibson concert, picked us up when it was over and put up with our incessant talking and giggling in the car. He was the one to come out to the living room and without scolding, reminded us that our sleepovers needed to involve not only talking and laughing and television but also a little bit of sleeping. He did those little things everyday.

I love that this ad doesn't scream, "look how silly a man looks playing dress up, even if it is with his daughter!" And it's not an ad depicting a father tossing the football around or playing catch with his equally as "manly" son. It simply looks like the father is having a genuinely good time hanging out with his daughter doing something she enjoys.

I wasn't a cheerleader kind of young girl. But had I been, I have no doubt in the world my father would have been out there helping me practice. And I have no doubt we would have been equally as adorable as the father and daughter in this PSA.

a goal

My piano teacher updated her website to include recordings from past recitals and I'd completely forgotten that I once played one of my favorite Buffy pieces.

My version: Remembering Jenny
Professional version: here

Sacrifice, from the last episode of Season Five, is another beautiful piece and also one of my favorites.

I certainly have some relearning to do before I get back to the level of being able to play the arrangement I have but at some point this year, it will be one of my recital pieces.

a not-so-subtle, yet sometimes much-needed reminder

I'm overwhelmed with musical discoveries lately

She goes by her real name of Tina Dickow in Denmark but Tina Dico in the states. And I'm beginning to love her.

And it's not really a video so much as just something to look at while the song plays.

i'm just a little bit caught in the middle

I'm not sure I care much for the video but I've recently fallen in love with Lenka. And this is currently my favorite shower dancing tune.

Watch it. And love it!

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Douchebag Culture

Funniness, complete with some most likely NSFW language.

Major Taint, I salute you

So you may or may not have heard by now that OH MY GOD, the 14-time Olympic gold medal winner Michael Phelps has smoked weed.

The horror!!!

But the reason I post this is not because some swimmer got high. There is only one reason for this post.

From this story here (I know it's not the most reputable of sources but stay with me here for a minute), I give you the following quote:

Phelps is represented by marketing giant Octagon, which works with huge brands such as Mastercard and HSBC. They admitted proven cannabis use would be "a major taint" on Phelps' character.

Which makes me giggle like a schoolgirl who just heard her first dirty slang word.

Carry on.

wow. a thousand words, indeed

Bill signings of two of the most important women's rights bills to have passed over the course of the past few years.

The Partial Birth Abortion Ban Act of 2003

The Lily Ledbetter Fair Pay Act of 2009

I will not cry at work, I will not cry at work

Should you ever feel pessimistic about the state of the world...

or doubt the possibility for change or progress...

or your ability to be part of them...

Should you ever feel insignificant...

or wonder "what's the point?" or "what's it all for?"...

just have yourself a look

I'd quote a lyric but I have no idea what they are

I discovered this song shortly before I was headed back to New York at Christmas a couple years ago.

Since then, it's become somewhat of a flight ritual for me to engage in a little bit of illegal procedure with my electronic device and listen to it as we're preparing to take off so that the big, beautiful crescendo at the beginning coincides with our liftoff and any and all feelings of being grounded begin to just fall away.

I've only just discovered the video today but it makes me feel every bit as free and unfettered as the song does by itself.

Sigur Rós - Hoppípolla

a new tomorrow

Rather than a beautifully written, introspective post about the beauty that will be Obama's inauguration tomorrow, I give you this.



Cheers!

I'll never let go, Kate...I'll never let go

I've always adored Kate Winslet. I don't think there's a film of hers I don't love and every time I've seen her on any kind of television spot, she seems like some random person they pulled off the street who is just there to chit chat rather than the youngest women to ever rack up 5 Oscar nominations.

If you watch any of her films, it's obvious she is amazingly talented as an actress. She's banned fashion magazines from her home in case the thin models influence her daughter, her style mantra is "whatever fits and whatever works," she's stated repeatedly that she loves her body whatever way it is.

As a bonus, she's easy on the eyes. We're talking easy like Sunday morning-easy.

And even though I hate Oprah, I love, love, love this clip. God bless your real breasts indeed, Kate.




Sidebar: In any and all future conversations that may directly or indirectly refer to my breasts, I'm going to try my best to somehow work in the sentence, "...when they race for sanctuary under my armpits when I lay on my back?"

Doogie!

That is all.

I know they say we can't pick our family...

But if we could, I'd still pick the exact same one.

A few years ago when my cousin was in rehab, she was allowed a home visit right around her birthday so we went up to my Aunt & Uncle's house for a little "home visit / birthday celebration." It was the beginning of August and we spent the afternoon in and around the pool, which is where I took the following picture (some of you might remember it from my asking for help cropping out the woman who is no longer in it).


It quickly became one of my favorite photos I've ever taken for several reasons. My uncle, who was...maybe 62 around the time, had been afraid of water pretty much his entire life. Our families have had pools since I was in high school and he never got in one because of it. I'm not sure exactly when that fear dissipated and when he finally took the plunge but this picture was taken one of the very few times I've seen him in water. He has always been closer to Alexis (the one in the picture whose birthday we were celebrating) and my aunt has always been closer to Ashley so I loved seeing the two of them together in this picture. Plus, they look genuinely happy and that's not something I often see in my uncle's face. He's never been one to talk about his emotions and has always shown his love and appreciation for other people in material ways. To see him so obviously happy in this photo, just hanging out at the pool with his family, makes me feel happy.

For years, I've wanted to give him the photo but I wanted to add a little something more than, "hey, look at this great photo." So when I received an email awhile ago from a friend that made me all appreciative and teary-eyed, it inspired my family Christmas gift this year. I went through photos I've taken of my family, picked my favorite one of each of them, and wrote a note that said a bunch of stuff but is pretty much summed by the last part of it:

So. Put the photo up somewhere you can see it every day. Or hide it in the bottom of your sock drawer. Either way, when have you a lousy day…when you wish you were someone else…when you doubt yourself…when you don't much care for who you are…look at it. And realize you're an amazing human being. I'm glad I know you.

I wasn't going to share the photos publicly because I wanted them to be just for them. But I believe each one of them has put it up somewhere they can see it everyday, which I think is fantastic. And they're phenomenal photos of phenomenal people.

So I'm sharing.

The one I posted above is the one I gave to my uncle.


Alexis' photo. She's never been very close with my aunt and in addition to Alexis looking beautiful, it's one of the few photos I have of her and my aunt together.


Ashley's photo. The one I really wanted to give her wasn't of good enough quality to even enlarge to a 5x7 so I settled for this one, which I also love. The girl simply does not take a bad photo and is usually a complete ham when having her picture taken. In this one, she's relaxed but is still just...Ash.


My aunt's photo. This is her permanent face. Beautiful, happy, smiling Nan.


My mom. I don't have many photos of her because she doesn't much like herself in photos and I understand that completely. This was a candid moment she didn't know I caught and it's one of my favorite photos of her letting go and having fun. P.S. In her glass of champagne is one of those little penis straw toppers often found at bachelorette parties.


My dad. The world's nicest guy and when I looked at this shot, the first thing I thought was, "yeah, that's dad." I'm pretty sure he was waving at me and saying, "hi, my girl."


Possibly my favorite photo of my brother. Ever. There's layer upon layer upon layer to him and somehow, this shows each one.


My niece(ish). This is the photo I gave to her mom (who is my brother's girlfriend) because I don't have a single photo of her that I could have used. Plus, the entire point of the gift was for them to see themselves through someone else's eyes and how better to see yourself than through your children? Is she not the most beautiful little 7-year-old you've ever seen?

And that's my beautiful family.

B===O~~~~

Contraceptive pill polluting the environment...and causing male infertility?

Ha! I've been unknowingly screwing with your sperm for 15 years, fellas! Having been successful in playing an essential role in helping the men of the world shoot blanks, I also now have no choice but to continue pissing on everything I can find so as to continue polluting the environment to the best of my ability.

For those of you not wanting children...you're welcome.

And I hope the reason for my crude subject line is now clear.

a new time...

a new year.

I can't say 2008 was spectacular but I can't say it was sucktastic. I feel pretty lukewarm about 2008, which is why I haven't really felt the need examine it too closely with the onset of the new year. But now I kinda feel like it. So there.

Resolutions have never been my thing because I've never been much of a goal kind of gal. I can handle short-terms goals but anything long-term usually winds up pretty quickly in the shitter. However, I do realize things don't just fall out of the sky into my lap and that I need to work toward them. There are some things that have no clear end and I don't need to put a check mark next to them on my "to do" list in order to know I've accomplished something. So in that vein...

- As I sat at Caribou yesterday, I realized how genuinely happy I felt to sit there sipping coffee and writing. When I couldn't find the words, I poked around the web, checked the ol' Facebook page, emailed, and eventually got back to the writing. It was delightful and I'm pretty sure it was partly responsible for the rest of my great day. I will do it more often.

- Although I still know I never want to have children of my own, the time I spent with the world's most adorable 7-year-old over Christmas will be one of those holiday memories I'll talk about years from now. I love being around my family more and more every time I go back to New York and now that it involves my brother having a family of his own that includes a daughter we all consider to be our own, I want to do it as much I can. I will do it more often.

- In order to accomplish that, I need to summon my slayer strength and claw my way out of my grave. "Insert my full name here. She's in debt. A lot." My next paycheck will reflect my recent 8% raise, which is a cri-zazy great raise these days. If I can't pay my bills, enjoy life a little here and there, and stash away some money with that, I have some very serious money management problems. So I need to throw a little of that extra money in savings and just let it sit there. I will do it more often.

- I re-connected with a couple friends over this past year, one of whom I only grew apart with because I changed jobs and she had a baby. Since our mutual friend's wedding this past October, we've been emailing to keep in touch better and have made plans to have drinks now that the holidays are over. I have few close friends here in Chicago and my best friend in Iowa is about to move even farther away. So I need to continue working to maintain those friendships that aren't as geographically desirable or as convenient as I'd like them to be. I will do it more often.

There always have been and always will be tons of things beyond my control. Here's to focusing on the things that aren't.