Faken Bacon

Yesterday, before going to work, I had a lunch date with my partner. I later described this meal to my coworkers as our Kindergarten Lunch Time. We made grilled cheese sandwiches in a waffle iron and played along with the interactive Super Readers TV show on PBS. The only thing I think that could have made the lunch even better is if we had had bacon in our sandwiches. Well, maybe bacon wasn't the only thing. You see, I foresee a long and happy future with this woman, a future filled with all kinds of wonderful lunches, but my right to a recognized commitment of the nature my parents used to have, is not acknowledged. I can't get married, not to my partner, not to any woman.

So for me, getting married is like eating bacon.

I know that I can survive without it, and part of me knows that I really shouldn't want it. And yet, I still do. I've looked into substitutes, like civil unions, turkey bacon, (or just plain not eating meat,) but it's not the same. While there are certain recipes when the replacement works just as fine as the original, there are always going to be times that only the real deal will do. And, there will always be the bottom line--the original just tastes better.

The question of the bottom line though is where we get sidetracked. America is so juiced up over the "why"--Why does 'real' bacon taste better?--that we don't see this is a red herring. All anyone needs to understand is that pig bacon and turkey bacon are different things, and therefore, not equal, right? Our Supreme Court already decided decades ago in the other civil rights struggle that separate but equal is inherently unfair. And yes, I'm waiting for all the fuddy-duds to come out of the cupboards and tell me that Life isn't Fair, that the World isn't Fair. Well, thank you Mr Dud, I do realize this. However, just because something is unfair doesn't mean that I should settle for it.  Furthermore, when we are engaging in conversations about 'equality and justice for all'--about human rights and citizens' rights--we, in fact, are obligated not to settle for anything but fair.

So, when I watched 20 or so NY Senators yesterday, stand up, one-by-one and speak (overwhelmingly in favor) of marriage equality for same-sex[and gender] couples for two and a half hours, only to be flash frozen by the five minute roll call that destroyed the bill by eight votes, I couldn't help but be rubbed by the idea that here, even in NY state, I am not allowed to buy real bacon. Or at least, it's not available in any of the stores I'm allowed to shop. And this fact is enough to make me steam my way up to Albany and give them  a little 'what for.' But in the end, whether NY state passes a marriage bill that allows the option to get married, my eyes will still be looking toward DC. Because I know that even if NY allows me to marry--and it would be an awesome appetizer--the real happy meal will be a federal law that allows me to have married rights, should I choose to get married, no matter what state I live in. Anything less is just another substitute.

Hesitant Feedback

Today I got to read an excerpt from a student's paper for feedback, something I haven't done since the last semester I taught college in Maryland, spring 2008. I read a short section, took notes, and then we had a conversation about what was working already and what needed rearranging, tightening, and so forth to guide the lines into their resting places. It was... invigorating. But I'm not sure the student, my partner Drew, thought so.

She's working on her Masters thesis final draft which is due December 3--that's right, this Thursday. And when I was Skyping with my mother today, and she asked about how Drew's thesis was coming, I said: We don't talk about that right now. This was meant mostly as a joke, but it's true that Drew is not having a fun time drudging through the intro and conclusion.  It's like when you move--at first, it's all very exciting. You get your large pieces of furniture in place, and then unpack your clothes, dishes, bathroom stuff, and special photos and decorations to make the place feel like home--and it does, but you still have a few more boxes looming in the hallway that need unpacking. Well, Drew has saved her crap boxes for the end, like all of us, and is naturally not as motivated to tackle the part of drafting with which she feels least successful. Enter me, the once writing professor turned professional homosexual.

While Drew has been working on her Masters over the last couple years, multiple people have mentioned that she is lucky to have a writing teacher for a girlfriend, or that she's got an experienced proofreader on hand, but what most people either don't realize or haven't had the chance to know is that Drew is an organized, articulate writer herself. Therefore, I rarely have seen or commented on her writing before it has been turned back to her by a professor. (see Side Note below.)

And that's why I like today. Not only did I a) get to see Drew's writing in the raw, but I also b) positively impacted (even if it was a very small impact)  someone else's work. I felt, for twenty minutes or so, like a teacher. And it was the same sort of natural high I felt after I finished my last blog posting. But the look on Drew's face while we discussed her work reminded me why teachers aren't supposed to date their students. Even if I only imagined the hurt or annoyance or frustration I was causing, partly by being giddy and partly by being direct, I still imagined it, and I still felt hesitant to say what I thought.  Part of the inherent power of being in a teacher/guide role is having good information to share--and to have something from inside you want to hold back that information for personal reasons is thwarting to the mission at large.

~

As I finish this, Drew is across the room on her laptop with furrowed brow and strained sigh. She listened to my suggestions in stride, but I know that has no bearing on her rocking out this thesis. Writing is a love/hate/poop relationship. You have to deal with some s*** before finishing your revolution. And Drew has come a long way, baby.





(Side note: Rarely seeing an unfinished draft both makes me proud and somewhat sad, but I wouldn't want it any other way. I like being useful, but I don't want to be "needed" for simple assignments, or even complex assignments. I want to be included in a conversation about whether the syntax of her opening sentence should be inverted, but I'm never going to be the go-to answer key.)

Is being an Adult getting the best of you?

In September, I thought about blogging again, and attempted with this start:


"I've decided it is time to start writing again. The new school year is a reminder that we do start over, that I can start over. Sometimes I think I forget this, or shove it aside in favor of New Year's resolutions I won't keep or the renewal of spring. However, for as long as I can remember, the beginning of school has been the origin of my phoenix-ism. It was 9th grade that I became the girl  without a past, eleventh grade that I solidified my status as the popular non-popular girl. And again in freshmen year of college, I shed my high school feathers in favor of mystery, artistry, and good grades. In fact, the return to school has always been more reflective of my life-altering behaviors and moods than any other seasonal period.

"Unfortunately, each time I start to write, I have the fear that I've lost the ability. I guess I'm still under the impression that you 'snooze it you lose it.' And let's be honest: I haven't written a piece of non-fiction in a very long time.

"But I did start a piece this summer. I also started some poems. It will be three years this December since I've graduated with the MFA. Which means, three years ago, I was starting to teach my first college courses, and to finish my poetry thesis. I was also in therapy for being angry at myself and at my most recent ex. And, I was dating someone who was not good for me. I was living alone, struggling for a rent I couldn't afford, living off tuna and wheat thins. That semester was one of the best times in my life. And I know now that it was because I wrote and ran every day."


The question I'm asking myself today, as I sit recovering this blog here in bed, in too much pain to move, is if we know what makes us happy, why don't we do it more often? 


Is it that we honestly believe we can't? Do we all have such subtle self confidence issues? When I was in high school I knew a guy who was an oil change mechanic, dating a college student. Neither of them had any money. And when he told me they had decided to go to South America for a week, my first response was HOW? He just looked at me and said, we bought tickets; we like to travel; we're going. Since then, I've tried my best to be like that. I wanted to go to NY. I went. I wanted to go to grad school in DC. I went. I wanted to have a successful long distance relationship. I did. And yet, I still can't manage to do the little things on a daily basis that make me happy: writing, art-ing, exercising. 


Maybe I don't do what makes me happy more often because the little things don't cost money, and now that I'm an Adult these things which can always be there are the first to go. Maybe my life includes an unnecessary hierarchy of first giving up things that only sacrifice time (ex: jogging) before things that sacrifice money (ex: alcohol), even if both make me happy and one is technically much easier to get than the other. Is this our society's idea of what it means to be responsible? I feel like the motif in so many pieces of cultural literature between the Adult and the Child is one of the Child being told to sacrifice the dream for Adult responsibility.  Er, not that alcohol is an adult responsibility, but having a good paying job that gives money for food/rent/happy hour is more of an Adult classified thing to do than spending an hour outside with your sneakers on.


My stepfather is a firm believer in this cultural motif, which is why I think he is a fiscal Republican and I am a liberal. He keeps waiting for me to get a 'real' job and start voting with the elephants based on the 'logic' of what 'makes sense' for the white upper-middle class pocket book. Which is why on a lot of accounts, I've always felt that my adult-self hadn't given up the dream--because I haven't given into to some people's ideas for me. I'm realizing now that the scale I've been using to measure isn't the one that matters. 


Do any of you KNOW something makes you a happier you, and yet, still don't find the time for it in your routine? 

new year?

So, it's only a quarter until seventeen-hundred--meaning that the night time youth-group I'm working with hasn't been open even an hour, and I'm super bored and somewhat sick of being here.
Although I didn't really want to come in today, partly because it's one day of work sandwiched between four days off of work and partly because my partner and two of our closest friends are at home having a good time, I'm glad that I did come in today. There are a lot of youth here, somewhere between thirty and forty, and it's still early. If we weren't open tonight, some of these youth would not have a safe place, or a place at all to go. If we were not open tonight, some of these youth would be at home getting shit from their families, and some of them would be doing their best to try not to sound, look, or act "gay."

There is a new girl here tonight, an eighth grader, who has met a new support group. And there are a couple kids back from their first semesters of school away from home.---more later.

tracking

In a new vein, I am starting to train again. 'For what' is yet to be defined. This holiday season has taken quite the hold on my thighs, arms, and cheeks. I could barely run yesterday. But I did try.
It was difficult without watch or ipod to give myself those little tiny goals and motivations. I may go to the gym tomorrow instead of running outside, to see if there is music (even horrible music would be okay at this point).

weight as of January 6: 126lbs
distance on January 7: 2-ish miles, maybe
time:? [too long for such a short distance]

Attempting

So after I worked 5 hours or so on this rockin Introduce Yourself assignment (mandatory for online classes at MC evidently) I found out that, indeed, I actually do not get to create my own assignment. Instead I get to use the one they are giving me: create a bumper sticker mantra for your life and develop proof of its accuracy.---here is what I came up with:

Reduce, Reuse, Redefine


My world is colored with the idea that each person wields enormous power over others (whether she or he realizes it or does ‘good’ with it). I believe that a person’s family may not necessarily be that person’s friends but that friends are certainly family. I believe in recycling. I believe that Coke does taste better than Pepsi, that cats and dogs can get along, that Apples are better than PCs. I believe in the abilities of the NIH to find new help for old diseases. I believe in being a football watching lazy on the weekends. I believe in leaving home to understand how you feel about it. I believe in independent film, independent music, and independent thinking. I believe in continually redefining yourself. I believe that most of the time “we get out what we put in” and that there exists a deep sense of betrayal when we feel that this is not the case. I believe education transforms the world by opening windows. I like being a window opener.

The above paragraph is a belief statement patterned after Crash Davis’ “I believe” speech in the movie Bull Durham. It’s also an example of how I see and understand the world. My “I believe” statement is a random sampling of my thoughts about matters corresponding to varying levels of triviality and pertinence. Life also seems to be a series of minor and major occurrences, in no particular order but which seems to be ultimately (if not mysteriously) connected.

If my life were a car, the bumper might read Reduce, Reuse, Redefine, patterned after the 80s environmental slogan “Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.” By using this phrase as a jumping off point I’m “reusing” something tried and true, something older which still means a lot to me and helps me focus my priorities. I’m connected to what I see is or has been the effort of Good in the past. Whether I’m revamping a syllabus or creating a new cookie recipe, I believe in seeking out the good from what has already been to help make the future better than the present.

As for the other two words in my slogan, ‘reduce’ and ‘redefine,’ I see reduction as a cutting principal on my life and redefinition like a brand new day. Reduction is what makes me want to find the only right word when I’m working on a piece of creative writing. Reduction is also what makes me battle my favorite store: Anthropologie. I want much more than I need. Redefining, by default, means to calculate again, to trace over taking into account new information, as if smoothing out the contours of a clay sculpture started a week ago. To me, redefining ourselves, our world, our views is the basis of learning. It’s what I mean when I say I am a life-long learner.

Holy cow, Batman!

I am ashamed at the distance between this post and the last. And when I think about all the stuff that has gone un-blogged, it's just mind boggling.

Hence, I am making a New Year's resolution to do this more. Even if the quality is a bit lackluster.

(Case in point.)

October 15, 2007 ASSistance needed

Meegs to Me: 12:34 PM

"Okay, miss english - I need your ASSistance (as courtney would say).

I'm an assistant editor for a communication journal and currently, I'm editing one of my professor's papers!! Its a bit intimidating. He's Chinese and so the language is a bit awkward. I'm having SUPER trouble with these two different sentences. Can you help?

Here we go:
1. "The Chinese as well are reluctant to talk about death; they tend to believe that talking about death may lead it to come soon." (this one, the 'may lead it to come soon' i think is awkward. i can't change the language TOO much, but need it to make sense.)

2. "Since its establishment in 1996, Tzu Chi Body Donation Center’s, located at the Medical School of Tzu Chi University, campaigning for body donation has become one of Tzu Chi’s on-going endeavors." (this one is giving me EXTRA difficulty, for whatever reason.)

So...whaddya think?"

Me to Meegs 1:37 PM

"Original Sentences
1. "The Chinese as well are reluctant to talk about death; they tend to believe that talking about death may lead it to come soon."

2. "Since its establishment in 1996, Tzu Chi Body Donation Center’s, located at the Medical School of Tzu Chi University, campaigning for body donation has become one of Tzu Chi’s on-going endeavors."

What I Says:
1. is actually okay, even though I understand where you get the awk feeling... but if you want to change it, I suggest one of these endings (or something similar):
'The Chinese as well are reluctant to talk about death; they tend to believe that talking about death' encourages it to arrive/appear/etc--OR-- draws its inevitable appearance [somehow] closer.

2. this sentence is over crowded. It needs to be either split up into two sentences, or re-subordinated somehow:

'Since the establishment in 1996 of Tzu Chi Body Donation Center, located at the Medical School of Tzu Chi University, campaigning for body donation has become one of Tzu Chi's on-going endeavors.'---but this even feels redundant (of course this would be one of it's on-going endeavors; it is the main objective of the organization, or so says the name, right?). Or, did he mean this last clause to be first, kind of a cause of the Center's existence, that this Tzu Chi means business about body donation, which is why it started the center in 1996??

sorry if my comments are just as confusing as your own thoughts on the matter of these.
ugh. editing is fun."

Big Girls Don't Use Plural Pronouns Where Singular Ones Belong

Okay. I can't stand it. Not only do I destest the saccharine tone of Fergi's voice and veiling the infantalization of the feminine with something that tries to show "independence"---and this is the benefit of the doubt---but the lyrics actually saying "I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket" making me want to sharpen my battle axe. I think we can all agree that when one uses the article "a" with a singular noun behind it, like "child," that we must keep refering to it (notice the singular pronoun) as a singular noun. It does not suddenly spasm like a Gizmo into multiple beings. A child stays a child, or should. Fergi, I don't know if I'm spelling your name correctly, and frankly if I did know better, I'd misspell it on purpose. Someone like you doesn't reserve my respect. Not after this.

If you or someone you love has problems with pronoun-antecedent agreement, please, get help.

i want one of these to cheer me up