The New Adventures of Wizzle & Co.

Glaring into mirrors

2011-06-08T13:44:00.010-06:00

Body image is a rough one, isn't it?

I spent years taking my body for granted. I had one of those childhood/adolescent miracle metabolisms that kicked ass. I could eat anything. Everything. All the time. What I wanted, when I wanted, guilt free. If anything, I was displeased with my body because it was too thin.

Then came the freshman 15. And the 15 after that. And so on. Not good.

I never liked exercising, especially not if I knew that that's what I was doing. If I was just playing around with friends, walking to campus, enjoying myself it was different, but the idea of engaging in anything that would make me red and sweaty and sore the next day sounded about as enticing as ... well, all of the metaphors I can think of include some sort of forced physical labor.

So the old clothes had to go. Some of them wound up in a t-shirt quilt once I finally accepted that they were never going to fit again. New clothes came. And then they had to go, too. Shopping has become a nightmare. I know it's just a number. But it's a number so much bigger than what I ever used to have that it feels ego-dystonic. My size, my number, never mattered to me when it was small - it wasn't a piece of my identity then. Now that it's increased exponentially I want the smaller number, I want that identity, I want that body I used to inhabit.

Living away from the places I grew up (and grew out) has been a struggle in many ways, but knowing people who never knew-me-when (when I was a size zero) is so much easier than even just being in the physical presence of those who did. I know that they know what I used to look like. The body that used to house me. And they know what happened to it. People away from home just know who I am now, the body I live in now.

I know that my body is just my case. I know all about the double standard that says a woman must be smart, successful, popular, accomplished, and beautiful on top of it all or it doesn't really count. I know it's propaganda, it's unfair, it's not true. I know that bodies are beautiful at every size (I even think it, too). I know that accepting your body is the most important thing.

But that's all easier done than said. It's something I say often. It's something I try to model for my peers, my friends, my clients. I can sit in a room and tell anyone that they are beautiful and really truly mean it. I can sit with my discomfort in my own body and shove it down and really convincingly portray acceptance. I'm sure it's convincing because it convinces me while I'm in that room. I feel okay for awhile. And then I go home.

So here's hoping that a new routine, continued abstinence from television and movies, and focusing on the things that are important to me will help me continue on the journey toward body acceptance and self-love.

2010-11-21T09:08:00.000-07:00

It's 8 days short of a year, now.

Sometimes I still want to throw up.

Dark Come Soon

2010-08-27T13:02:00.005-06:00

I went to grad school in psychology because I wanted to have better skills and qualifications to help people.

I have spent the better part of the last three years trying to talk myself into staying in grad school in psychology.

I still want to help people.

But bureaucracy and program requirements and research are getting in the way of me helping people.

And now I need a fair share of help myself.

And I'm not so sure that this is what I really want to do. Or should do.

But I don't know what else I could do.

So on to year four, I suppose.

Psych 101: Sex Ed for College Freshmen

2010-02-16T23:19:00.005-07:00

This post is a soapbox, but bear with me. I didn’t hide it behind a cut because it’s not something that I feel like I should hide behind a cut, in my mind, my life, or my blog. I beseech you to stick with it, it was an important experience for me. It is also cross-posted at my other, more tended-to blog, feministhemes.com.

Yesterday I gave a lecture on sex to 250 college students in at a college that is 80% LDS (Latter Day Saints aka Mormon). Then I gave it again to another 250 students. The night before my lecture I did some feminist reading to pump myself up. This was apparently a bad idea, as I proceeded to pass the night restlessly, having nightmares about my lecture turning into a riot over abortion. The class wouldn’t listen to me, and parents of kids from my high school youth group harassed and condemned me. Whoa.

The lecture itself went fine (both times). About two thirds of the students attended, and probably only 8-10 got up and left in the midst of the lecture (less than when I gave the same lecture last semester). A handful stayed after each period, some to challenge what I had said (which is both fair and welcome), and others to shake my hand and thank me for discussing what is here a very (very) taboo subject.

The lecture begins with myths and truths about sexual motivation factors, such as hormones, drugs and alcohol, erotic materials (porn!), attraction to partner, cultural values and meaning, and evolutionary perspectives. Part two of the lecture targets sex crimes: the differences between sexual assault (umbrella term for many sexual offenses) and rape (specific form of sexual assault). I discuss prevalence rates, stats about the relationships between victims and rapists (stranger rape vs. date rape, acquaintance rape, marital rape, etc.). I emphasize that rape is about power and control and their arousing properties, not sexual desire, citing the example that in this state the youngest reported rape victim is 2 months old, the oldest 94 years. I discuss how to help a survivor, what to say, what not to say, and list campus and community resources. Then shit hits the fan.

Some people leave when I bring up porn. Some people leave when I indicate that rape is not a rare crime. But the real exodus begins when we start discussing sexual orientation as a spectrum rather than a binary system. I discuss the differences between biological/physical sex and gender identity. I discuss the differences between sexual identification and sexual orientation or attraction. I discuss how these constructs don’t always “match.” Then we experiment with the Kinsey scale, discussing the possible 0-6 ratings of a series of individuals in vignettes (including research findings that suggest greater arousal to gay porn in homophobic than nonhomophobic straight men – another exodus from the classroom) to illustrate the point that fitting people into boxes isn’t as easy or effective as we’d like. Next, I ask students to generate a list of factors that they consider to be involved in determining sexual orientation. What makes someone gay? What makes someone straight? I don’t ask students to discuss these ideas out loud, because things get wildly out of hand when this occurs. Instead, I discuss the evidence for and against elements like environmental, biological, and cultural factors. I conclude that these research findings suggest that “reparitive therapy” – curing someone of same sex attraction – is not possible, and does more harm than good: a stance that is supported by numerous professional associations including the American Academy of Pediatrics, American Psychological Association, and National Association of Social Workers.

Is it a perfect lecture? Certainly not, and I’d give just about anything for the department to let me teach the sex and gender class (which is offered only once every-other year). But its worth it. Terrifying at times, but worth it. And once I’m up there talking about sex, sharing new perspectives, and shaking up taboos I love it. I love the students that stay after to ask more questions respectfully. I love the students that shake my hand and thank me for introducing and briefly discussing rape and GLBTQ issues respectfully. I love that I can create an atmosphere for 50 minutes in which students can feel safe.

But yesterday there was a moment that I didn’t feel safe. Between the two lectures an older gentleman in the second section approached me about what he heard during the tail end of the first lecture.

“So this is a lecture about being gay, then,” he said.

“Actually, it’s about sexual drives -” I began.

Dude: “Are you gay?”

Me: “- sexual motivations -”

Dude: “Are you gay?”

Me: ” – sex crimes -”

Dude: “Are you gay?”

Me: “Will you let me tell you what the lecture is about?”

Dude: “Will you answer my question?”

By this time other students were trying to get the guy to back off. “Why does it matter?” they kept asking him. I held my own – I explained what the lecture was about, that the professor had asked me to present on these topics (Dude: “This is not in the syllabus, you know that? This is not in the course description,” repeat x10), and that he was not by any means required to stay. He kept asking if I was gay. He wanted to know my “angle.” I wish I had said “Sir, would you feel comfortable answering that question with such interrogation?” I wish I had said “Sir, can you explain to me how that is relevant?” Instead I said “I’m currently in a committed relationship -” he has a knowing and disapproving look on his face “-with a male.” Commence eyes bugging out of said dude’s head. I continued, “I have never been in a relationship with a woman, but I see no problems with that.”

He concluded that I was an “advocate” (apparently that’s a bad thing?) and proceeded to inform me that this information is not in the textbook (it is) and won’t be on the test (it may) and is not outlined in the syllabus (neither is classical conditioning, Freudian theory, or a multitude of other specific Psych 101 topics), and that he would be leaving. I thanked him (and thanked god that that was over and I wouldn’t have to put up with him through the next 50 minutes).

Students thanked me after class for this and apologized for their classmate. I was happy to face off with him – defending my sexual orientation or my beliefs about sexual orientation is something that I rarely have to do and a burden that I will gladly bear when I can in the hopes that others might not have to, even for five minutes.

Was is as bad as my nightmare? No, it was fabulous. It was empowering. It was inspiring. But it sucked that that could happen. It sucks to be bullied by a student. It sucks to face off with hatred, because it sucks that that kind of hatred exists.

Together We'll Ring in the New Year

2010-01-11T16:51:00.003-07:00

(I do my best thinking in emails to best friends. I'm holding myself accountable this time so you lucky stiffs get an excerpt.)

Today is my first day solo teaching, and I'm not exactly nervous, but I do have a bit of impostor-syndrome. Like, someone is going to catch on that I'm totally inexperienced and not qualified to teach this class. Then again, I've been waiting for someone to catch on to the idea that I'm not really qualified to be here at all most of the time. But I have a plan for this year: part new year's resolution, part need for something meaningful to come out of my accident, I have decided to be myself again. I can't even remember how long it's been since I was really myself. It's like I buried myself under the guise of "professionalism" because I was "supposed" to, but it just leaves me feeling stifled.

So I'm starting with these boots and silver painted nails. I mean, it seems like it should be more important to be true to myself and set an example as an authentic human being rather than looking the part of the (boring) together semi-professional student. And I'm going to stop saying things to make people happy and speak up about how I really see things more often. I dress a certain way and keep my mouth shut out of fear of reprimand. After a rollover accident and ambulance ride on a body-board and seven hours with people digging glass out of my arm I'm tired of not doing things out of fear. So I'll do them and if I get scolded so be it. I have better reasons to be myself than I do to be who others want me to.

Then again, I think I've made this commitment to myself before. It's harder to carry out than I think. Maybe this time it will be different.

Cold Desert

2009-09-10T12:54:00.003-06:00

I don't know what happened to make me feel so homesick this week, but I'm having cravings for homecooked casseroles and hot dishes, rock songs my mom used to bug me with, fishing boats and bonfires. I miss being in a community/city/state/region where things just fit and click and match my expectations. Where the minority of people irritate me.

It's been two and a half years in the west, and as much as people rave about the mountains, give me a lake or river any day. I miss Minnesota nice. I miss Cub Foods, G-Will-Liquors, Caribou Coffee, Old Chicago. I miss city parks that aren't crawling with children. I miss college students who aren't parents.

I miss monthly family birthday parties. I miss holidays with big groups of people who have known me since I could blink. I miss taking politics for granted. I miss art museums and concerts and zoos. I miss landings and bridges and ships.

If my thoughts are scattered, its because I am. I'm trying to live in a community/city/state/region where nothing about me fits and everything is an uphill battle. I tell myself it builds character, it's making me firm in my beliefs, its making me a stronger person. And that's true. And growth is painful and all that. But it's exhausting. There is no rest, relaxation, and recuperation, there's only temporary escape.

::sigh::

Anyway, if you haven't been seeing much of me around here lately its because I've taken on my own project over at feministhemes.com. Its not much, but sometimes it makes things seem meaningful, or lets me get junk off my chest in a less personal way. So. There's that.

Subterranean Homesick Blues

2009-07-14T23:01:00.006-06:00

Or, a list of differences between Minnesota and Utah:

In Minnesota, beer flows like water.
In Utah, beer tastes like water.
In Minnesota, skinny tan girls with perfect hair are in sororities.
In Utah, they are mothers.
In Minnesota, missionaries come about twice a year, and are Jehovah's Witnesses.
In Utah, missionaries come about twice a month, and are Mormon.
In Minnesota, you can find a Catholic, Lutheran, or Baptist church no problem, but have to look hard for an LDS church.
In Utah, you can find an LDS church on every block, but have to look hard for anything else.
In Minnesota, drivers stop at stop signs, red lights, and often yellow lights.
In Utah, drivers stop if they feel like it.
In Minnesota, "sac" is a dirty word.
In Utah, its what you put your groceries in.
In Minnesota, natural disasters include tornadoes, flash floods, and blizzards.
In Utah, natural disasters include wildfires, mudslides, and red-air days (inversion).
In Minnesota, downtown tourist attractions include museums, theaters, a zoo, and a massive shopping mall.
In Utah, the temple is bigger than the capitol, and is the hub of the city.
In Minnesota, rivers are judged by the mighty Mississippi, and lakes are judged by Superior.
In Utah, rivers are more like creeks, and lakes are more like stinky ponds.

Am I excited to get out of Utah for a few days of R&R in Minnesota? You be the judge.

Revelry

2009-01-12T21:49:00.004-07:00

The next Big Day is almost here, and I'm feeling optimistic about the future in both a global and personal sense. The global sense goes pretty much without saying, so I'll let you make of it what you will, recommend Ani's new song, and move on.

In the personal sense, my cases seem to be going well, my faculty seem to get me, and my students seem to tolerate me. I'm on track to propose my thesis this spring, I'm in classes that challenge me to grow as a person, and I've recently realized that I only have three years left in Utah after this semester. Slow and steady is starting to pull ahead.

Over the past couple of years I've had my ups and downs, periods of pride and humility, moments of confidence and hopelessness. I've begun to understand how the old me and new me fit together, and that there are people in my life that will be a part of my life, no matter which me I am at any given time. Three of whom I spent some quality time with in Minnesota over the holidays, and one of whom I'm lucky enough to share a home and two kitties with out here in Utah.

Yes, life is good and has purpose and meaning. I'm where I'm meant to be (in a philosophical sense if not a physical sense...), doing what I'm passionate about, and finding myself along the way. I'm realizing that the journey is as valuable as the destination, whatever that may be.

I leave you now, with a little ditty from my new favorite band. Enjoy.

Decree

2008-11-03T19:08:00.008-07:00

The big day is almost here, and I'm feeling reflective. Not just about the campaign, which I've tried to follow carefully for the past twelve months, but about my history as a voting citizen of the United States.

*Knock on wood* This looks to be the first election in which the candidate that I've supported will win. In 2004, I voted for Kerry. In 2006, I voted for Hatch (MN Gov). In 2008, I voted for Hillary. As empowering as it feels to walk into that little booth, its (to put it mildly) a bummer to watch your candidate fade into memory, along with the changes that you were looking forward to.

However, I wouldn't change any of those votes for the world. I thought carefully, I researched the issues, and I monitored the presentation of each of the candidates - particularly in the Democratic Primary and the Presidential Race thus far. Even if my candidate doesn't win, I know what (and who) I believe in, and I know I'm not alone in my beliefs. I know that there are people fighting hard, on both sides, to try to make the world, and our nation, a better place.

And this time, for the first time, it looks like I'm not in the minority.

Well, nationally at least.

Why I'm Not Watching the Olympics

2008-08-20T11:29:00.006-06:00

If you know me at all, you know that I'm not an avid sports fan. At best, I'll sit through a football game for Matt's benefit, but I'm usually asleep by half time. So it probably comes as no surprise that I'm not following the 2008 Summer Olympics in Beijing. However, its not because I'm not interested or because I have better things to do, or any of this guy's reasons.

Let me first say this: the idea of global brother- and sisterhood is beautiful. The notion that we can put aside our differences for "a few shining weeks" and all hold hands and unite under the banner of anything is noble (thanks a lot, Morgan Freeman and Visa). But there are some things that I don't think can, or should, be tolerated or ignored in the name of athletic tradition. I think that we should use this global forum to call attention to the betterment of mankind instead of turning a blind eye to the obvious human rights abuses that are being committed, not only by China, but by a multitude of nations competing in the Olympics.

To begin with, what about China's involvement in the human rights abuses in Tibet, Darfur, and Burma? Or how about China's persistent abuse of its own citizens? Check out this report from Amnesty International on the current status of China's death penalty, justice system, use of torture, violence and discrimination against women, repression of spiritual and religious groups, etc. More recently, China has ~~evicted~~ relocated more than 6,000 Beijing households to make room for Olympic traffic, ~~silenced~~ censored Olympic protesters, and ~~told a little girl she was too ugly~~ put their "country's interest first" by selecting a "smiling angel" to lip-sync during the Olympic opening ceremony.

And its not just China. Mahbooba Ahadgar, the third woman from Afghanistan to ever qualify for the Olympics, went missing in July. Although many feared that she had been kidnapped or killed by extremists who had been threatening her and her family for weeks, she fled the country to seek asylum in Norway. The Afghan Olympic Committee first jailed her family for allowing her to complete in the Olympic, and then threatened to jail her family if she didn't compete in the Olympics.

Women are still banned from Olympic teams in Saudi Arabia and Brunei, but these teams are still allowed to compete. This seems to be in direct contradiction to the International Olympic Committee charter, which states that "any form of discrimination with regard to a country or a person on grounds of race, religion, politics, sex or otherwise is incompatible with belonging to the Olympic Movement." Many people are calling for the Olympic Committee follow through on this statement and bar countries than ban women atheletes from participating. However, many Muslim nations do allow women to compete as long as they remain veiled and have developed specially-designed hijabs for women to wear while they compete.

In a perfect world, we wouldn't have to worry about these issues because they wouldn't exist. In a better world, we would take advantage of this global forum to discuss the issues as they become apparent and hold nations accountable for the way that they treat their citizens. In today's world, the least I can do is turn of my TV, boycott Olympic Sponsors, and share with you the reasons why I'm not watching the Olympics.

God and Politics

2008-06-28T23:43:00.007-06:00

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about religion and politics. More specifically, the reasons that religion doesn’t fit my life since I refuse to let it govern my politics.

I’ll spare you the details of my on-again off-again relationship with churches of all shapes and sizes, suffice it to say that the Christian culture and different subcultures within it have provided me with support at times in my life that I felt there was nowhere else to turn. However, it always seems to be the case that once I’m back on my feet again, I’m no longer welcome. Because once I start to think for myself, I just don’t fit in.

The number one guiding principle in my life, and I would be inclined to say “the meaning of my life,” is to help others and ease human suffering. My goal in life is to make the lives that I come into contact with better in some way, to build people up, to empower those around me, and to foster hope. Sounds good enough to me. Like, maybe something that Jesus would be down with.

The catch is: that means it is not my job to tell anyone that they’re right or wrong. (!!!) By proxy, that means I don’t have any intentions to take away people’s rights. Let me outline for you the areas in which this seems to lead to conflict between me and the church:

I have no intention to take away your right to be with whomever you love, regardless of sex or gender. Love is love, commitment is commitment, and it’s between you and your partner. Our country gets its tighty-whities in a bunch over two people of the same sex consenting to be in a relationship, but turns a blind eye to issues like polygamy (yeah, it still exists in surprising numbers) and underage marriage (in some states, females can be married with parental consent at the age of 13, or at 16 without parental consent if she is preggers). If there is peen-vadge action, everything is A-OK, regardless of your developmental stage.

I have no intention to take away your right to be in control of your body. You deserve access to resources that you need to protect yourself from STDs, unplanned pregnancies, and the ugly looks you feel on your back when you walk into a Planned Parenthood. You should not be shamed for taking responsibility for your own future. You should not be denied access to products like birth control or the morning-after pill based on your age, the missing ring on your finger, or the values of the pharmacist behind the counter. You should not be denied information about sex because of some ridiculous abstinence-only curriculum in your health class. And when shit happens, how you deal with it should be up to you, not a rich, fat, old white man who thinks he knows what’s best.

I have no intention to deny you federal support when you need it. It seems that the tendency is to point the finger at those who need welfare, Medicaid, or other government services. Because, you know, those people are lazy. Or maybe, somewhere along the line things didn’t go as planned. In my opinion, the job of our government is to help all of its citizens move towards that beautiful American Dream, not the top 10%. Call me crazy, but I think that our nation should build itself up, not increase the gap between the poor and the obscenely wealthy.

I have no intentions to kick your immigrant ass out of the land of the free. As far as I’m concerned, we’re open 24 hours a day to anyone chasing the dream. Isn’t that the idea?

I have no intention to tell you what you can and cannot believe. I believe that there are bits and pieces of Truth within every religion. I also believe that those bits of Truth quickly become overshadowed and overlooked the more that people create rules, doctrines, criteria, and everything else that we add. I believe that any religion that makes your life better and helps you get in touch with that Truth is right for you, and that neither I nor anyone else has the right to tell you that what you believe is wrong or inferior. But when your beliefs lead to practices that impede the rights of others (within your own religion or outside of it), I believe that you cross the line. Believe whatever you want, but there are limits to what you can practice.

You see, I believe that we are all equal regardless of race, religion, ethnicity, reproductive organs, etc. I believe that we should spend more time helping each other accomplish things rather than using our resources to prevent anyone from doing anything. What happened to good will towards man(kind)?

This has turned into quite a diatribe, but my point is this: religion doesn’t work for me because I have yet to find one that lets me think for myself and spend my time building people up for the sake of building them up instead of building them up to win them over to Jesus. As long as religion tells me to believe that I’m right and others are wrong, that I’m saved and others are condemned, and that I’m chosen while others are lost, it doesn’t work for me.

I refer you once more to this quote by John Lennon, which currently summarizes my beliefs on religion and spirituality:

“You're just left with yourself all the time, whatever you do anyway. You've got to get down to your own God in your own temple.”

And I intend to do so.

Take Me Anywhere

2008-04-15T22:21:00.004-06:00

A post is probably overdue at this point (I had a pretty nice monthly update thing going there), but I haven't been particularly inspired since my last post. It's funny - last year I always had something to say; now that I have a life I don't have much to say here. Hmm...

The big news, I suppose, is that there are only two weeks left of my first year of graduate school. Of course, I'm taking summer courses which probably still count as the first year, but the bulk of it is behind me. I've learned, I've taught, I've presented, I've written, I've evaded research, and I've started seeing clients. I've bulked up my vita, and isn't that what life is really about? Academic life anyway. I suppose "real" life is about bulking up your resume.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about how far I've come. 1376 miles, to be precise. I'm living in a new state with minimal financial support from my family. I've painted, cleaned, repaired, and furnished an entire apartment. I'll have 20 graduate credits under my belt at the end of the semester. I've made a new set of friends whom I actually believe like me, despite all of my shortcomings. For me, this is probably the biggest achievement of all.

Let me explain something about moving across the country for graduate school. Six months before you move, you interview with the faculty of the program and pray that they like you enough to let you in. You're fully aware that they're watching you the entire time and that you had better put your most social face forward, although you think that its ridiculous that you're being judged on your interpersonal skills in such a stressful situation that you believe ought to be based strictly on academic merit (at least when that's in your favor). Then, if you're lucky, you move five states away and start your new life.

However, this isn't typical college life. You don't buddy up with your roommate, you don't meet a different group of people in each of your classes, and you don't join clubs. Your new social network consists of the rest of the people that the faculty of the program deemed worthy. The idea of your close personal friends for the next six years being chosen for you by a bunch of academics that you met briefly in anxiety-provoking interviews is not entirely comforting.

And then after the first semester goes by, you realize that one roommate and two cats are not enough to get you through six years in a place where you know no one. So you suck it up and accept the fact that your new friends have been chosen for you by a bunch of smart strangers. Because there is the catch: they're smart. And the people that they chose for the program are a lot like you. And now you're all in the same boat.

So you start hanging out with the odd conglomeration of individuals now referred to as your "cohort." You realize that you're all at different places in your lives - raising families, going through divorces, starting new relationships, training for triathlons, returning from war - but that your all moving in a similar direction. And (suprise!) you have similar interests! Finally you know not just one or two people, but six or eight who actually listen to you when you go on and on about reinforcement contingencies and dysfunctional thoughts and whether the DSM should move towards a dimensional rather than categorical model.

I digress.

I guess what I'm trying to get at is that when you feel like you have no idea what you're doing or where you're going, you just need to have faith. Have faith in yourself, have faith that your dreams will get you where you need to go, and have faith that things will somehow fall into place. Just let go, and jump in. You never know where you'll land, but there will always be someone there to catch you - even when you least expect it.

Trying to Pull Myself Away

2008-02-27T20:22:00.001-07:00

I'm currently obsessed with Irish music. Not Lord of the Dance style, but Damien Rice style. I saw the movie Once and although the movie itself didn't do much for me, I can't get enough of The Frames or The Swell Season since. And the good news is that both bands, as well as Ani DiFranco, will be at the Telluride Bluegrass Festival this summer. I smell a camping trip...

As a matter of fact, I was so inspired by all of this beautiful music to pull out my own guitar and try to pick up where I left off. It's been so long that it was more like starting from scratch, but a couple of songs started to come back to me and if I can make a habit of playing for an hour or so each day, I'm sure I'll be back to baseline in no time.

I used to pretend that I would someday play a show on my own. Nothing big, just a little evening entertainment in a cafe somewhere for tips and coffee. Of course, I've spent about five summers working at coffee shops and have never gathered the courage to do it, but the idea still floats around in the back of my mind from time to time.

Sometimes I think that as a psychology graduate student I've given up many of my freedoms. I have to be careful what I say online (although as we grow up, all of us ought to learn to do that), I have to dress a certain way, I have to act a certain way in public. And now that I have these particular shoes that I'm supposed to fill, I'm starting to rebel again. I was a rebel to an extent not so long ago.

So although I'll wear my professional attire to school and carry myself as a psychologist in the appropriate settings, I am ready to free my inner Brenna. I can wear red, glittering reading glasses. I can wear bright green sneakers with yellow shoelaces. I can wear zebra striped sweaters. I can play video games, kick back with a beer and some pizza, and I can work my fingers to the bone until I'm ready to fulfill that cafe guitar-girl fantasy.

She's so heavy...

2008-01-15T20:25:00.001-07:00

I came across this quote tonight and it struck me:

"You're just left with yourself all the time, whatever you do anyway. You've got to get down to your own God in your own temple." - John Lennon

When I think of who I used to be, who I thought I was, and who I appear to be becoming now, I tend to get confused between all the me's and can't figure out who I am.

Something

2007-12-30T22:24:00.001-07:00

In reading Pattie Boyd's account of her love affairs with two of the greatest musicians of all time, I've come to the conclusion that karma really must exist. That there really must be a balance in life and anyone who achieves or is a part of greatness and rises above the rest of us must also have torrid depths and hidden darkness.

It seems as though the greatest passions in life are unable to survive their own intensity while those that are considered "average" or "mediocre" are the ones that go on and on. Masterpieces and love letters are beautiful reminders of what was, but the inspiration fizzles, or in the case of Ms. Boyd, shifts from person to person so quickly that there is never anything to hold on to but the intense memories.

Maybe all we can do is accept the balance. Some of us have beautiful romances filled with passionate pendulums of love and hate, never to reach the pinochle of parity. Others never experience the extremes, but go through life in tepid waters. And which is the more desirable? To experience all that life has to offer, the astonishingly good with the heartbreakingly awful, or to have a peaceful but ordinary existence?

Winter Month Novelty

2007-12-30T15:57:00.000-07:00

Top Ten Favorite Things About Minnesota

Women with feathered blonde hair wearing Vikings earmuffs.
Decent indoor malls.
The Vikings blowing a football game they were pegged to win. I wouldn't expect anything less.
Bad weather and people who know how to drive in it.
Lines in liquor stores that go all the way to the back of the store. And customers with full carts.
Caribou coffee.
Bars with 110 different types of real beer, best of all, Leines.
Seeing three men in snow caps with ear flaps on four wheelers with plows in one day.
"Hi dere, welcame ta Wells FARgo, what can I do fer ya taday?"
Being home.

Baby Driver

2007-12-18T00:11:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, dark and early, Matt and I begin the 1300 mile journey with not one, but TWO cats this time. Trunk full of gifts, back seat full of cat carriers and litter boxes, and front seat stuffed with things to do in the car (this girl needs a knitted hat to match her new knitted mittens). The goal: make it to North Platte, Nebraska without getting blown off of the wintery roads of Wyoming. The good news is, global warming is taking its frustration out on New England, leaving the Wild Wild West with Mild Mild Weather.

Although I can't wait to get home and see my family and friends, I have to admit that I'm a bit nervous to make the drive and leave our sh*tty rental on its own for ten days. Its pretty sketchy around our little rental dump, but that's what renter's insurance is for, right? If only we had neighbors who were decent enough to watch the place, but they're too busy screaming at each other ten hours a day.

However, Utah drivers, alcohol regulations, and massive families are really grating on my nerves. A trip to the midwest is just what the doctor ordered.

By the way, it looks like my first semester GPA at the graduate level is nothing less than a 4.0. Hell yes. I've survived.

Total Est. Time: 19 hours, 24 minutes

Total Est. Distance: 1324.13 miles

Diving Ducklings

2007-12-09T23:28:00.000-07:00

This made me happier than anything else in a long time.

Too Much Food

2007-11-23T20:24:00.000-07:00

I think we all think of the same things when we think of Thanksgiving. A big happy family gathered around a smorgasboard of freshly baked goods, a hot turkey straight out of the oven, and more side dishes than could ever be consumed in one sitting. More people eat the exact same meal across the country on Thanksgiving than on any other day of the year. It's "tradition." But a never ending table of turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce does not a holiday make.

I won't say that I've ever had high hopes for Thanksgiving. From a family struggle with cancer to a holiday alone at the age of 16 and an unexpected engagement, I have a sizeable list of unpleasant (and somewhat traumatizing) Thanksgivings. However, my first Thanksgiving away from home was a relative success.

This might be because it didn't really feel like Thanksgiving. I mean, a group of five grad students is a little different from a group of about twenty wild relatives. Especially when you've never met half of them before. It might not seem as intimate as a close family gathering, but how many family gatherings are really all that intimate? In a new place with new faces, what is old becomes priceless. Chipotle Mayo mashed potatoes from Texas, corn pudding from Chicago, mole from Colombia, and a good old mid-western green bean hot dish might make for a pretty miscellaneous meal, but the bits of tradition each meant something to every person at that table.

And when it all comes down to it, being out here with Matt and starting a new set of traditions makes this probably the best time of my life. It's nothing spectacular, but sometimes less is more.

Homesick at Space Camp

2007-10-26T22:31:00.000-06:00

I find myself missing things about the midwest that I never even liked when I was there. Things like the Mall of America-a place I associate with awkward and exhausting family outings, thrift stores I haven't visited since high school, and restaurants I almost never ate at. I miss drivers who signal 500 ft. before a turn. I miss late nights at Perkins. I miss long talks at Caribou. I miss reasonably sized spiders.

I miss Champlin. I miss driving 169 on a daily basis. I miss having a Target three minutes from my house. I miss having a nice big yard with trees and birds and squirrels. I miss bonfires. I miss Parcheesi and Trivial Pursuit and Rattlesnake.

I miss Duluth. I miss chai night at rotating venues. I miss family dinners with my surrogate family. I miss pretending to study for hours at B&N. I miss restaurants I barely discovered, I miss bars I rarely went to. I miss the view as you first come up over the hill late at night. I miss the lights.

Utah has... a good thai place. A decent independent cafe. A Borders Bookstore. Utah has Matt and Smokey and Piper. A school like any other school. A decent faculty. Beautiful mountains.

But its not home. Then again, neither is "home."

Sunday Morning

2007-10-21T19:10:00.000-06:00

This is what happens around here when one tries to sleep in.

Different Names for the Same Thing

2007-09-24T12:07:00.001-06:00

Here I sit in the computer lab during my free hour (between class and the lab I teach), not studying for my first big scary exam of my graduate school experience, but posting for you, my good friends, in hopes that I might process this new, yet strangely familiar, place.

I have observed that no matter where you go, people are generally the same. There are girls with colored streaks in their hair, facial piercings, and far too much eyeliner in skin tight jeans with inappropriate tears. There are frat boys who sit in their front yards and drink (soda), playing popularity games and banking on their status in the house to get them a girl at the next party. There are oversized men who walk around in red shirts and green shorts reading books you would never expect. There are women returning to school after raising a family who don't quite fit in simply because they try a little too hard.

There's even a guy who wears a hat like Indiana Jones at all times.

There are campus cliques (the LDS group, the drama club, the education majors who congregate in commons areas and steal your highlighters). There are creepy janitors who look like death. There are bookstore employees who try to pick you up as you drop $500 on books in the checkout line. There are people who talk on their cellphones while ordering a complicated coffee concoction despite the "no cellphones" sign taped to the counter.

There are kids who stay well after class in the hopes of becoming personal friends with their instructors. There are instructors who arrive last and leave first in order to avoid this. There are secretaries who are never around when you need them. There is a neverending flow of freshmen and super seniors.

The landscape may have changed, the religion of the masses may have changed, and my global coordinates may have changed, but the public University is still the public University.

I guess some things in life are constant.

The Pros and Cons of Breathing

2007-09-18T22:29:00.000-06:00

You might be a grad student if...

You have ever brought a scholarly article to a bar.
You rate coffee shops by the availability of outlets for your laptop.
You have ever discussed academic matters at a sporting event.
You regard ibuprofen as a vitamin.
You find yourself explaining to children that you are in "20th grade".
You look forward to taking some time off to do laundry.
You wonder if APA style allows you to cite talking to yourself as "personal communication."
You are thinking "I'll be golden in 2012...just you wait and see.
You get irresistible urges to use in-text citations in casual e-mails.
You start referring to stories like "Snow white, et al"
You look at undergrads and long for the "simple life"
You procrastinate on one project by working on another project.
You are working on one thing but feeling guilty that you aren't working on the other thing.
You feel slightly sick whenever the thought occurs to you that the entirety of your thesis will be read by a maximum of five people: your advisor, an external examiner, a selfless friend editing the spelling mistakes and perhaps one or two nerds who - for some reason or another - are interested in the same stuff as you.
You choose beverages on the basis of caffeine concentration
People (non-grad students) ask you "Are you going to be done soon?" and you laugh but inside a little part of you dies.
Sleeping in means sleeping until 8:30
You don’t remember the definition of “evenings” or “weekends.” You've been told that they exist, but you are highly skeptical.
The books on your desk are piled so high that people cannot see you sitting at your desk
You consider power bar + extra large coffee a proper lunch/dinner
Everything reminds you of something in your discipline.
You look forward to summers because you're more productive without the distraction of classes.
You have given up trying to keep your books organized and are now just trying to keep them all in the same general area.
You have accepted guilt as an inherent feature of relaxation.
You've ever brought books with you on vacation and actually studied.
Saturday nights spent studying no longer seem weird.
The professor doesn't show up to class and you discuss the readings anyway.
You can read course books and cook at the same time.
You get a 3-hour final with 5 questions or less.
You actually take the time to compile a “you might be a grad student if...” list and then begin silently crying because it is WAY too personal

Skeptics and True Believers

2007-08-27T12:58:00.000-06:00

Here I sit, outside the S.J. & Jessie E. Quinney Natural Resources Research Library in the shade of what I believe is an elm tree, trying to be zen in a desperately un-zen situation.

You see, in thirty minutes I'm supposed to be leading a lab on a course I've never taken in a room whose number I don't know. It's beginning to look like I'm just going to plead the fifth next week when a room full of upper division psychology students want to know where the heck I was on the first day of class.

It seems as though I'm the only person in my program without a masters degree. It also seems as though I'm the only person in my program under twenty five. And living with my boyfriend, whom I am not married, nor even engaged, to. I'm the only one from the midwest. I'm the only one with a job outside of school. And as far as I know, I'm the only one that didn't know that we were getting only an out-of state tuition remission and not a full tuition waiver, and therefore the only one with a freak out over money on Friday. I felt more disoriented after the orientation than before.

But, things will work out (they always do) and this looooonnnnnng first day of school will someday reach its end. Rooms will be straightened out. Lessons will be planned. Exams will be taken. And before you know it, I'll be speeding out of Utah with a freshly earned Ph.D.

Into the Fire

2007-08-01T22:40:00.000-06:00

Apologies are in order for the time that has passed without updates, although I don't know that I have any readers anyway. I obsessively feel the need to perfect things and want this to magically be philosophical and meaningful to anyone who stumbles across it even though it probably should just be a meaningful archive of my life for myself.

A few weeks ago we welcomed a new member to our family. No, not a child like most of those our age in Logan, but a second kitten! This little ball of fire, Smokey's baby sister and playmate, is two month old Piper Wizzle-Fife. She is mischievous, adorable, and weighs barely two pounds. Her favorite activities include pouncing on Smokey's head, running around the house with a foam ball in her mouth, and sleeping on my neck. And I love her.

In other news, my mom and stepdad are visiting for the week, which has been pleasant. Its nice to see some friendly faces. Utahn's aren't as friendly as Minnesotans. Matt and I haven't really made any friends yet. We are getting along with our coworkers and coexisting with our neighbors, but no one has made any effort to get to know us at all, and our efforts have been in vain. I'm anxious to start school in the hopes that my cohort will be friendlier.

Also, Logan Canyon was on fire tonight. That's the range right behind our rental. We could even see the fire from our bedroom window! I've never seen anything like it.

I've also never seen anything like a drug bust, which occurred last night in the JoAnn parking lot. I saw someone get arrested, have his van stripped and searched by men in camoflauge and security vests, and then be taken by the police as his van was towed. To me, this was like COPS live in the big screen monitor of the JoAnn front window. To the housewives and grandmothers shopping in JoAnn, this was just a drug bust.

For a conservative community which considers itself safe and free of crime, they sure are nonchalant when it comes to witnessing a major drug bust and arrest.

Needless to say, although I'm happy with Matt, our kitties, and our apartment, I am not at home in Utah.

Your New Asthetic

2007-07-11T21:30:00.000-06:00

Matt and I have been here for almost a month now. Friday marks the end of week four. A lot has happened in the last month... Lets recap:

1350 mile drive with Smokey, who does not particularly like car rides
Disastrous first impression of our new place of residence, thanks to bb holes in windows, holes in walls, and peeling wallpaper
Three days of painting, cleaning, and repairs
Dozens of job applications, three job interviews (two for Matt, one for me), and two jobs landed!

Yes, it is true! I have secured a job! Making barely half as much as I was as a research assistant at UMD, I begin my employment tomorrow at JoAnn Fabrics. Finally, human contact outside of my home! Don't get me wrong, I love Matt, but... I'm excited to make some friends (fingers crossed). JoAnn is a good place for me and I think I'll like working there, but I'm keeping an eye out for something else. I'll hardly be making enough to justify working, especially when you consider how much I'm going to end up spending on supplies.

Happily Matt and I will work away the rest of our summer in the hopes of making enough money to ease the pain of the thousands we've spent so far, and hopefully finish furnishing this place. A decent loveseat/sofa set would be spectacular.

And we're thinking about expanding our family... Smokey seems lonely and might need a baby sister. I'll keep you posted.

The Good Times Are Killing Me

2007-07-02T11:06:00.000-06:00

Matt started his new job at Chili's yesterday, while I have yet to hear back from any of the places I applied. I'm beginning to feel like a deadbeat, or worse - a housewife.

Really, I find it ridiculous that I'm having so much trouble finding a job. For one, every place in this city is hiring. Secondly, I'm overqualified for all of these positions! They should be jumping on my application. I have a college degree: I should at least be able to get a job at a bookstore, craft supply store, or home furnishings store. I should be able to find a job I'm qualified for!

However, I have no idea about how to find a job for a college graduate with a B.A.S. in Psychology. I guess its a good thing I'm going to grad school.

This is B.S.

Bring It On Home

2007-06-27T22:39:00.000-06:00

As promised, here are some shots of our fixed up new place:

Welcome! (Cute gnome welcome mat extreme close-up)

This is our living room, complete with futon, folding papazon chair, and a gigundo tv

Our kitchen, with olive green stove, gourmet chef, corner sink, and one missing drawer...

...which Smokey thinks is a cave

Here is our miniature dining room (the fourth chair exists, its just in the study for now)

Upstairs is our study aka Smokey's room

Our bathroom

And our bedroom

Our walls are still bare, but they have a fresh coat of paint and soon the rest of the house should fill in. Hope you enjoyed your tour!

Let's Get Lost

2007-06-20T16:44:00.000-06:00

I find myself in a new region, new state, new city, knowing only my permanent boyfriend and our kitten. I live at the end of a winding cul-de-sac lined with run down rentals with neighbors who shout at each other with the windows open. As I apply for jobs I realize that a large percentage of them carefully screen their applicants to make sure they know before hiring whether or not the said individual is Mormon. In convenience stores I see families with four or more children, each within a year of the next, with parents my own age.

But I have my permanent boyfriend and my kitten and we are happy. We've repainted our entire apartment, which would be considered a town-home or fourplex in Minnesota. We've purchased a dining room set, queen sized mattress, and a 36" tv. For the record, the tv only cost $100. However, it was transported via some slick knots in a small rope and one bungee only half in my trunk. And it came with an entertainment center. I feel the need to justify a tv that size.

Matt has already had two interviews, and Michaels is hiring sales associates, cashiers, and knitting instructors so I'm keeping my fingers crossed. The GameStop is also hiring. Although a B.A.S. probably makes me overqualified for these positions, I find myself applying anyway, partially for lack of initiative, and partially because of the sheer entertainment value.

We don't have internet or anything at our house yet, so we're making the most of free Wi-Fi in the town. Although there are at least eight connections that my Mac picks up in our apartment, our neighbors aren't into sharing. In other words, expect more frequent postings in the future, including pictures.

In the mean time, my friends, be grateful for your freedoms. Those of you who are under the age of twenty five and without children, be grateful. Those of you who can apply to bookshops and grocery stores without submitting to a pee test, be grateful. Those of you who can walk the streets of your neighborhood without feeling a little guilty for being a white American, be grateful. Not to say that I'm unhappy in Logan, because I really do want to like it here. Let's just say that there's a bit of culture shock when you move to the Morman capitol of the world.