When it Rains, It Pours

Well… It has officially happened...

I HAVE BEEN STABBED ON THE STREETS OF PITTSBURGH.

That’s right, my faithful readers, innocent little me had a very painful encounter at the end of a very annoying and soggy morning. Momma said that there’d be days like this…

I woke up as my alarm blared for the fourth or fifth time – DON’T JUDGE! I’m a snoozer to the max – so much so that I actually set my alarm extra early so I can snooze a few times and still get up at the time I originally intend (please do NOT send me messages about how this doesn’t make sense if I want to maximize my sleep time – I never have claimed to be a rational thinker). Like most Mondays, I started to mentally blurt out vocabulary that rarely finds its way into the corners of my mind during the daylight hours. (And I’m not even talking about the 4-lettered type here… when I’m really grumpy, I start thinking random phrases like “I rue the day” and “This is an abomination” and “Bloody nightmarish morning." That’s right – I turn into a faux-British pretentious weirdo when I get up in the wee hours of the morning… Its ugly.) The rain was pouring out my window… and snot was pouring over my sinuses – it was pretty clear I was going to have a case of the Monday Blues. But, alas! (uh oh, theres my inner Brit again!), I dragged myself from bed and got on with the day.

Mini-Disaster #1: I DREAM of the day I can sincerely use the word “frugal” to describe myself. However; in all honesty I am frivolous and prone to “treating myself” far too often for it to be considered a “treat.” But I have, of late, been known to get up a little early to spend the time brewing my own coffee to save a few bucks on a regular basis (especially now that I’m living on a student’s non-salary). I was all proud of myself for my efforts and my perfectly sealed thermos cup this morning… so proud, in fact, that I left the cup on the counter as I walked outside with lofty thoughts of my own penny-saving efforts. Needless to say – 6 blocks of bus ride later, I let out another “I rue the day.” Now my bank account is $2.80 thinner and I have a cold cup of coffee on the counter.

Mini-Disaster #2: My morning bus is awful. There are very few buses that run from my side of town straight to the heart of Pittsburgh’s college center… so I start each morning getting groped and prodded by people just as unhappy to be next to me as I am to be felt-up by them. (In case you missed it, you can catch up on my previous thoughts of the joys of over-packed buses HERE). This morning was no exception – and just as I breathed a sigh of relief as I made my way to the front of the bus at my stop, the driver started speeding away before I even had a chance to make my way to the front. “No, STOP!” I yelled – only to be given dirty looks by fellow passengers. As I rode 3 extra blocks to the next stop, my mind RACED with potential messages I could hand to the driver as I exited – “You know, you shouldn’t ignore people when they scream for a bus stop.” “Glad you made that green light, you jerk?” “Last time I checked, this wasn’t a prison bus – why can’t I leave when I want?” But, as I brushed past his elevated ergonomic chair, all I could manage was an out loud “Thanks” - followed by a “This is an abomination” said silently in my head.

The ULTIMATE Mini-Disaster: Hustling the extra three blocks back to my end of campus, I prayed that the rain would stay at a drizzle since I had left my umbrella at home with my coffee. As to be expected on a college campus on a rainy day, the streets were packed with brightly colored rubber and plastic boots. “Jealous!” I thought – though in all reality I know that even if I did own a pair, I would probably never wear them for fear of looking like an idiot when the sun came out later. And just as I was finishing thoughts of jealousy, I went for the sidewalk pedestrian pass. Do you know what I’m talking about here? Those moments where you get caught behind some slow-walker who is apparently out for a casual stroll at the PRECISE moment when your bus driver decided to take you for an extra 3-block ride and you are late for class? Its not always an easy thing to gracefully maneuver around a slow-walker – You don’t want to look like a jerk and you certainly don’t want to get caught in a head-on collision if you judge their pace incorrectly. And, it was just as I was thinking all this though and making my move to the right that…

I WAS STABBED.

This slow-walking man, out on his morning stroll, was so happy that he was swinging his arms WITH an umbrella in hand. And not just ANY umbrella… but the sharp-ended pointy kind that could double as a bbq skewer in a pinch. It pierced my stomach (and by “pierced” I really mean more like “poked”)… and as I lowered my gaze to check for blood, I realized he hadn’t even NOTICED his attack! (or, at least, was trying to pretend he hadn’t noticed). All I could do was hurry off to class as I muttered “Bloody nightmarish morning…”

The WEIRDEST part of my brush with death (are you enjoying the hyperbole yet?) is that my BFF, The Closet Dork predicted the danger of such umbrellas MONTHS ago! Don’t believe me? Here is the blog to prove it:

http://misstomaamblog.blogspot.com/2009/01/fair-weather-friend.html

So, dear readers, be on alert! You too could be a victim as you strut in your colorful galoshes!

If You've Got it, Flaunt It

One day this summer as I left my office building, I found myself greeted with a bizarre and unrecognizable noise as I pushed my way through the revolving door. Because it seemed so loud, it took my brain a few seconds to place it – Is that an alarm? Cell phone? Screaming Cat?

Nope. It was just a guy singing – and singing very enthusiastically.

Now, you may think that since my brain came to associations like “screaming cat” before I saw him that he was probably pretty awful - but, not so! He had the bravado and volume that brought true life to the Mariah Carey song he was belting. And, with the dance moves he was so unashamedly performing, he was probably good enough for some local stages (Pittsburgh Idol, perhaps?). But, here he was, outside of the US Steel Building, dancing and singing along to the song pumping through his iPod earbuds.

As I got closer, I couldn’t help but stare. “Is he a street performer?” -- No… hes not in a performance location and has no hat or cup begging for my spare change. “Is he mentally ill?” -- Doesn’t seem to be. “Are his headphones so loud that he doesn’t know how loud he is singing?” – Certainly not! The more I examined this wandering minstrel, the more I became convinced that he was just singing for the heck of it. He must LOVE singing – and he must KNOW that he is good (how else could he be seemingly free of public shame or embarrassment?). And he must just LOVE to share his gift!

I stood there admiring his gusto, but I couldn’t help but notice that everyone else was staring with the same amount of confusion I had had just a few moment before. There were whispers, eye rolls, blatant laughs and points. But, NOTHING affected the Pittsburgh Idol.

As he came back around to the chorus in an elevated key (“And then a hero COMES along, with the strength to carry on…”), my mind wandered to imagine a utopia where everyone in the world shared their gifts and loves on the streets. In my head --- people were dancing their way to the bus stop, sketching my picture as they wait in line at the bank, holding debates in the aisles of the grocery store, helping me put together trendy outfits as I window shopped, and balancing my checkbook for me at church. And it was JUST as Pittsburgh Idol finished his last note that I was drawn from my daydream with the very scary thought that I had NO idea what talent or gift I would be sharing on the streets in this world.

What am I good at? What do I love? What are my gifts? What is wrong with me that I can't seem to find easy answers to these questions at the age of 25?

I guess I can only hope to someday have the guts to sing on the streets for no reason. Oh, but don’t worry, I most certainly mean that in the figurative sense.

Sometimes life just takes over, goes into hyper-drive, and spins you around for a few months. That’s been my experience since mid-July (hence, no blogging and very little contact with even my best friends – sad.). I’ve felt like I’m in the spin cycle of the washing machine, just waiting for the buzzer to go off so I can settle down and process a little. And, what I am learning is that I have to be intentional about slowing things down yourself. If you wait for life or the world to spit you out – you may be spinning on and on way longer than you would like. And all this busy-ness without venting has me feeling all bottled up – with thoughts and reflections swimming around in my head, but never communicated.

Which, reminds me why I created this blog in the first place – as an outlet and tool for reflection. Revelling, Reckoning, and Rambling are three processes that there have been FAR to little of in recent weeks (well…. Maybe I’ve still done plenty of Rambling, come to think of it). And – I gues what I’m saying is…. I’m working on it.

So, this is my official announcement that I’ve returned. My cell phone is back on and receiving calls (It seems that my friends have LITERALLY given up on calling me – and, I honestly don’t blame them), my inbox is ready for messages, my social calendar is ready to be filled (wow – that makes me sound pathetic), and my blog MAY actually be a place where there is something to read again.

Heres to the best of intentions!

PeTA Porn

I’m confused.

I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why PeTA continually advertises with naked pictures of women. Every time I see one of their campaigns, my forehead wrinkles and my head starts shaking back and forth involuntarily. What exactly are they trying to say?

“Vegetarianism is Sexy!” -- Yeah, I don’t think it’s the lack of sex appeal that’s keeping people from putting down the bacon.

“You can look this good too if you stop slaughtering innocent animals!” -- Do they really think we aren’t going to see the fine print that says, “Results not typical. Becoming a hot Vegetarian also requires working out daily to tone up and eating an ungodly amount of soy product to replace the lack of protein in your diet. And, admittedly, there are plenty of carnivores just as sexy.”

“You don’t need that fur coat – you can look awesome with NOTHING on!” -- I guess they think frost bite is sexy too. (For the record – I think wearing fur is icky unless you are an Eskimo.)

“We promise! It’s not just for hippies! This super-cool celeb is a vegetarian too!” -- Sure! Pamela Anderson is totally normal and has never done anything strange – I want to be and look just like her!

Now, don’t get me wrong - I’m all for the ethical treatment of animals… but, at the risk of sounding heartless, I still like them slaughtered, butchered and on my plate (ethically, of course). When I have some extra cash in my bank account, I ALWAYS reach for the free range meat… but, again, I don’t spend much time mourning the loss of the lives they could have had or the cud they could have chewed if they were not on my grill.

But, when did sexuality and food advertising become bedfellows?

We see it everywhere – Paris Hilton parading around in a bathing suit while enjoying her Whopper (and enjoying it WAAAAY too much, if you ask me), Dairy Queen’s big red lips licking up its tasty treats, commercials for gourmet chocolates showing women imagining themselves rolling around in silk sheets while they snack, and nearly every fast food joint has a commercial full of close-up shots of burgers set to Barry White’s “Oh yeah”s and sexy slow jams.

The whole thing just makes me feel awkward. And PeTA in particular bothers me because (Warning: I may be about to put on my quasi-feminist hat) I feel it’s an exploitation of women and sexuality used in a way to get some extra attention. And, while I realize that getting you to do the double-take is the very BASIS of advertising, I just can’t help but feel like they could do it in way that didn’t involve using playboy bunnies to help save real bunnies. Cause for an organization with “ethical” in their name… they might want to take some time to examine their advertising ethics.

Plus… its just kind of creepy.

PUBLIC Service Announcement

I have officially decided that I like anything with the word “public” in it.

And, while I’m pretty sure my rePUBLICan readers may officially label me a democrat for my love of all things PUBLIC (for the record – I am a registered “independent”)… I am willing to take that risk and BEG that they hear me out. Lets start with a few of the basics:

PUBLIC transportation simply cannot be beat – it saves me an insane amount of money, and as a 25-year-old without a driver’s license (go ahead and mock me with laughter… I’m used to it) I don’t know how I would get from point-A to point-B without it.

PUBLIC schools get a bad rap these days. I, myself, was a private school girl; but after visiting an African nation where PUBLIC education is minimal at best (only provided through elementary school), you start to understand the value of a “free” education system that is [nearly] fully functional.

PUBLIC Theatre may be one of the coolest of the PUBLICs – where else can you see your neighbor in tights reciting Hamlet? (p.s. If you have an alternative answer to that, I would like to PUBLICally announce my concern)

National PUBLIC radio is my primary news source (this may be the moment where I have officially lost my rePUBLICan readers). And, beyond that, it is the broadcaster of hidden entertainment gems like Saturday morning’s “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell me!” (if you have yet to enjoy this program, PLEASE listen to it HERE asap!)

PUBLIC restrooms are notoriously disgusting... but then again, where would we be (or, more accurately, where would we pee) without them?

PBS (PUBLIC Broadcasting Service) is undisputedly loved. Because, lets face it, Mister Roger’s Neighborhood and Sesame Street make up for all the years of Barney and the hours upon hours of their Fundraising Drives.

Hey, I even don’t mind PUBLIC Enemy! I mean, what would the world be like without Flava Flav? Sure, there would be a lot less crappy reality dating shows, but we also would have never thought of using wall clocks as accessories… and thats not a world I care to imagine.

But, my absolute favorite has to be the PUBLIC library.

Have you been to these places? You sign up for a Library Card and you instantly have access to free books, movies, CD’s, internet access… you can even use $300+ online Rosetta Stone language curriculum for FREE (seriously! I’ve done it!). Every time I stop by one I am instantly mesmerized and wondering how it can all be FREE.

Of course, PUBLIC services have their drawbacks.

Trips to the PUBLIC library are often quite eventful. You may find yourself glancing over at the computer monitor next to yours, only to find the man at your side is silently scrolling through page after page of pornography (although, at least he was doing so silently, right?). On another visit, you may stumble into the restroom and find a homeless woman washing her hair in the sink. Perhaps you will suddenly find there are headphones on your head and be invited by the young man to your right to give feedback on the “sick beat” he recently laid and placed on his MySpace page. Or, upon checkout, you may just find out that you have $58.00 in library fines (which makes me wonder… is the library like Blockbuster? Are they in business because of late fees?).

Whatever may happen on your adventure (and, in case you were wondering, those ARE all things that have actually happened to me during library visits)… I can promise it will be worth the trip. Cause you can take PUBLIC transit down to the PUBLIC library while listening to a National PUBLIC Radio podcast so that you can get some books to help you research your next PUBLIC Theatre role!

And, that, my friends, deserves some PUBLICity.

Kids These Days...

Being the wife of a Youth Director (and, by default, a youth volunteer) certainly has its perks... and I'm not just talking about how I get to wear my chucks on a regular basis without being mocked by my peers (I was a punk at heart before it was trendy!). I get to keep my finger on the pulse of youth culture, because some of the people I spend the most time with are under the age of 18. And, even with an average of 10 years between us... you might be surprised at just how much we have in common, not to mention how much I've learned from them. For instance:

• I've learned that the human heart can survive the consumption of 5+ energy drinks within the span of 2 hours (although the inevitable caffeine crash leads to MAJOR grumpiness on the part of the consumer and all those in their company).


• I've learned that Edward Cullen (aka Rob Pattinson) is to 2009 what Jonathan Taylor Thomas (aka JTT) is to 1996. (P.S. Where is JTT now?!?!)


• I've learned that modern high schools are giving homework assignments that I seriously envy. I turned in 4 page book reports written in cursive pencil... these days you get an "A" for a rap video about Beavers that includes the lyrics, "Oh hot Jam, this is my Dam." When did teachers start appreciating creativity? (shout out to Maggie Morgans!)


• I've learned that dodge ball ALWAYS results in injury... and Red Rover should NEVER be played unless you are willing to lose a limb and possibly your life.


• I've learned what it means to "Ghost ride the Whip"... and why mothers are terrified that their children are trying it.
  
• I've learned that if you are on a retreat and come back from a leader's meeting early... you just might find teenage girls dancing around in costumes with their iPod (contraband, no less) blasting out Jonas Brothers tunes.
  

And thats really just the tip of the iceberg. Cause when you take the time to listen to what the younger generation has to say about faith, politics, culture, etc... (and I mean when they are REALLY talking here... not just when they are regurgitating what their parents or teachers have said) They have some incredible insights and ideas.

But, there are some things out of balance within youth culture today.

I could spend some serious time analyzing how much technology has changed the life of a teenager. The mass quantities of entertainment they consume is OUTRAGEOUS, and (speaking in MAJOR generalities here) its beginning to take a toll on how they relate to the real world (And, if your mind conjured up images of MTV's reality series there... its affected you too!). Remember the days of your mom picking up the phone to interrupt your call with a friend because she needed the phone? LONG GONE thanks to cell phones, text, facebooking, and IM. Movies that would have been just popular before.... now CONSUME their lives with ads everywhere, celebrity appearances, YouTube posts, Facebook quizzes ("Which Harry Potter Character are You?" - Um, what?!), Music videos, Award shows, etc.

Which brings me back to the Twilight MADNESS that currently exists in our culture. Now, I'm not immune (see my "Confession" post).... but I think we are just beginning to see how much the Twilight media blitz has taken hold of the brains of our teenage population...

During a late Spring youth group, Jake brought an interesting question to the table:

"Let's say you found out you were dying right now. You only had enough time to write ONE LETTER. Who would you write to and what would you say?"

Wowsa. This one had even me tripped up for a second. Jake pressed for some answers... but it seemed everyone was stumped. After sharing that he, himself would write to his wife (you're darn right you would!) we finally started to hear some answers trickle out...

Some were predictable: "I guess I'd write to my parents and tell them thank you." A reasonable enough answer... I couldn't help but wonder how that letter would go -- Dear Ma & Pa, Thanks for birthing me so I could live these few short years. Oh yeah... and thanks for always buying me Cool Ranch Doritos. Peace out.

Some were not so predictable: "I'd write to [insert Pokemon character here] and ask him to come save me." Yeah... references to Pokemon seem to come up a lot in youth group. Jake and I have taken to responding as if Pokemon actually exists. I'm pretty sure Jake said something like, "No. Not even Pokemon can save you. You are dying."

And, one answer in particular has puzzled and amused me ever since. So thoughtfully, one girl raised her hand and gave us this little gem of an answer (in all sincerity, mind you) --

"I would write a letter to my favorite author of fiction, Stephanie Meyer. And, I would tell her how much I loved her books and how much they changed my life and just how great they are."

Just in case you don't know... Stephanie Meyer is the author of the Twilight series. Jake instantly looked at me with "I told you those books are ridiculous" written all over his face... and nearly all of us couldn't help but laugh. But she DID NOT back down. She was convinced that this would be the most important thing she could say in her final hours on earth.

Which, of course, has me wondering how our youth (even if only a few of them) could have their priorities so confused. But in a world that bombards them with media, entertainment, and trends while at the same time building up technology walls that allow us to have "relationships" without ever needing to speak face-to-face (or, really, even SPEAK at all) -- why should I be surprised? I probably know less than 100 of my 352 facebook friends better than I know the fictional Edward Cullen. I mean, honestly! I may read their status updates, but I certainly haven't (and probably wouldn't) read 4 books about their life!

So, I guess the question at the end of the day is: Who WOULD you write your final letter to? Cause if we measured our love for people or the impact they had on our lives by the amount of time we spend with them... I feel many of us would be stuck writing letters to people/things who could (or would) never read them.

And, here I am rambling on about being present in my life again. The idea of being invested in my life is always swimming around in my brain. Are we conscious about what we consume? Are we intentional with our time? Are we investing in things with lasting value?

These are the questions that I can't put down... and these are the questions we should ingrain in the brains of our youth generation.

On a Serious Note...

I'm sure we all look around our world and can see problems that need fixing. Problems with our society... problems with our or others' values.... problems with our faith communities... problems with our politics... problems with our environment... the list goes ON and ON. Often, I feel like I can look at a situation and know whats NOT working... but I can't always come up with a solution. And, that's frustrating. For instance....

Its clear to me that there is a biblical mandate to care for the poor. I am convinced that this is part of the call of my faith... of that I have no doubt. But, what this looks like on a practical level is not always easy to translate. And, even once translated, its not always easy to swallow.

Let's say I'm passing someone on the street who is asking for money. We've all been told we shouldn't give such people cash because they may go spend it on alcohol or drugs. And, I've heard some helpful alternatives such as: ask them if you can go buy them some food/coffee, give them bus passes, or help direct them to the nearest shelter or aid center. But, I can't help but wonder if this is complete. Where in the Bible does it say, "But when thou doest give, be sure to only give to people who will assuredly use what you give for good." I just looked -- can't find it. But, here is what it DOES say...

1 John 3:17-18 If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth.

Proverbs 19:17 He who is kind to the poor lends to the LORD, and he will reward him for what he has done.

Luke 6:38 Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.

It seems to me that God requires us to give, and do so freely. And, while I can say that with full assurance; again, I bring up the practical difficulties of such an awareness...

There is a woman who lives in my neighborhood who often approaches me asking for money. I've noticed that her story is always changing, and have figured that most times I am getting the run-around. But, as a general rule, I try to get at the root of her need and meet it when possible (I've given her everything from bus passes to tampons over the last year or so). Here is an ACTUAL conversation that I had with her on probably our 10th encounter (though she always approaches me as a stranger... with no memory of our previous meetings):

Woman: Hello, miss. I was wondering if you could spare me a few dollars. I need to catch a bus to Monroeville. I have no way to get home and Im stranded here, so if you could please help me!

Me: Absolutely! I have a few extra bus passes I would be happy to spare... you'll probably need two for the long haul out to Monroeville.

Woman: Oh. Bus passes? Well... ok. The truth is I'd really just like some cash so I can get some cigarettes and something to eat.

Me: Oh! Well, lets walk down to the Shell station. Its a block away and I'll get you some food and a pack of cigarettes if thats what you really need. [This was a stretch for me -- buying someone cigarettes was not my first choice. But, I figured it might give me a chance to talk to her while we walked.]

Woman: Listen. You seem really nice. Can I be honest? I'm really just trying to score some weed. I haven't had it in a long time, but I had a really bad day. Could you please just throw me a few dollars?

Me: Um, no. I'm sorry. I really don't feel comfortable with that... and, I don't have any cash anyway.

And, I walked away feeling so defeated. Cause, here I was trying to be generous... but the need was something I simply couldn't support. And figuring out what the RIGHT thing to do in that kind of situation seems easy (I mean, God couldn't possibly want me to give her money for weed, right?)... but it doesn't always feel so right.

And, I say all this ONLY to point out that the world is not full of simple solutions. I think the times when we feel we have "RIGHT"and "WRONG" figured out 100%, we are pobably the latter. And figuring out how to live out your faith and participate in Christ's redemption of the world is a really complicated thing. Again -- we may be able to see the problem... but can we come up with a RIGHT solution?

My mind is churning all this over because of an NPR article I read yesterday. The whole thing was about "economic psychology" and how to motivate humans to do the RIGHT thing. One program they referenced really shocked me, and clearly still has me revelling a bit...

"In the city of Greensboro, N.C., there's a program designed for teenage mothers. To prevent these teens from having another child, the city offers each of them $1 a day for every day they are not pregnant. It turns out that the psychological power of that small daily payment is huge. A single dollar a day is enough to push the rate of teen pregnancy down, saving all the incredible costs — human and financial — that go with teen parenting."

Does it strike anyone else that this may be the WRONG means to the RIGHT end? My first (albeit irrational and skeptical) responcive thought was, "There has got to be at least one girl out there getting pregnant for the first time so she can start collecting her $365 a year." But, my musings aside -- this is bizarre. Of course, I'm all for having less pregnant and single-mom teens -- I was beginning to wonder if the Juno craze would start some bad trends -- but are government sponsored cash incentives the way to go?

Then again, who am I to judge? There is no simple solution to lowering teen pregnancy rates. The problem is a complicated cocktail of an over-sexed society, absent/unattentive parents, faulty sex education, the ever-raging teen hormones, and probably a number of factors that I could never identify.

But I guess the point that I am trying to make with this VERY long rambling thought-jumble is... Just because a visible problem does not have a visible solution, does NOT mean we should stop talking about, working on, and caring about the problem itself. We should, as human beings (and certainly as Christians), be shedding light on brokenness when we see it. It needs to be named... analyzed... not forgotten. And, we need to retain hope that as we labor towards redeeming this world, the solution WILL show itself.

Just a thought.


If you are interested in reading more about the teen pregnancy project or "economic psychology", visit NPR's article.

"Fear Itself" -- the only justified fear?

Anyone who has been around me for a length of time could probably tell you that I have a variety of FEARS. Some are common… some are irrational (my husband would probably have put a MOST before that adjective)… some I’ve had since childhood… some are newly developed. But they ALL seem to come up fairly often.

For instance: my arachnophobia. Common enough… this one has plagued me since the time I was about 6 or 7, when I lost my plastic heart ring in the grass, only to find an unpleasant surprise when my finger searched in a hole in the ground (word to the wise: NEVER put your fingers in random holes). And, fear of spiders is a really annoying fear to have! I don’t know if you non-arachnophobes have noticed… but SPIDERS ARE EVERYWHERE. Over the years I’ve been chased by boys with ziplock baggies housing the itsy-bitsies themselves… accidentally set up a tent-free camp on top of a nest of silver dollar sized RED spiders… moved into a house infested with the horrifying HOBO spiders (see picture… and then try to imagine waking up to that thing crawling on your comforter, inches from your face!)… and walked through more webs than I care to remember. They are impossible to avoid – and thus I eternally feel like a terror-stricken Miss Muffet.

And I WISH I could say that was my only fear. But, unfortunately, I carry with the following:

• Panic around birds (see earlier post Birds of Feather)
• Claustrophobia (thankfully, this one comes up a lot less often since outgrowing “Hide and Seek”)
• A love-hate relationship with Roller-coasters
• Emotional fear of abandonment (eek… maybe to serious to mention?)
• Waking nightmares when I’m alone in the apartment for a night
• An aversion to alleys because of rape fear (I’ve found most women share this one)
• The belief I’m more likely to be in a plane crash every time I fly (this one is so consuming, that I often imagine who I would call and what I would say when the plane starts going down)

Its a pretty common thought that fears are often born of naivety and immaturity. But, the scariest part about my fears (oh no! another fear!), is that they’ve seemed to pile up as I’ve gotten older. I have more fears… AND they are more intense. So, what exactly is going on here?

I think my “certif” (don’t ask), Katie, said it best recently. On a girls’ reunion trip, we were playfully confronting her about her tendency to worry about the “worst case scenario” (and, we weren’t exaggerating… this girl is always verbalizing the fears that most just think and quickly dismiss… like, “Wait, but COULD a golf ball fly over here, hit us in the head, and kill us?”). She called the culprit of these irrational fears out – a need to feel in control. To Katie – if she thinks through all possible BAD scenarios, then she feels more confident in her ability to handle the situation should the worst-case suddenly erupt.

And, I think my growing list of fears is a bit related. While Katie considers the worst so she can feel in control of the present – I DO NOT think ahead, and then find myself unable to handle my emotional response when I let my brain really imagine what COULD happen in the moment. My imagination takes over – and, before I know it, I’m letting my brain experience the thoughts and emotions of a plane crash (or spider poisoning… or bird attack… or rape contraction of a STD… or the rollercoaster car flying off the track… or being alone in life… or whatever).

But, come on. Today I turn twenty-freaking-five (one event, unlike my friends, I was NOT afraid of). And, back in the glorious teen years, I was FULLY convinced that 25 was the “it” age -- that I would have arrived to adulthood by my mid-twenties. As the Four Seasons and Fergie have sung to us over the years – “Big Girls Don’t Cry.” Its time for me to grow up and start thinking of the world as my oyster… instead of my fear-tar-tar on a plate.

So today I’m choosing optimism. I’m not going to imagine the elevator cables snapping as I head up to my 51st floor job…. I’m going to grab a paper towel if I see a spider instead of bursting into tears and running away… I’m going to think about feeding the pigeons on my lunch break (eek!)… and I’m going to take shortcuts through dark alleyways late at night (j/k! I’m not an idiot!).

Who knows? -- Maybe by 30 I’ll be fear free!

Dogs Look Like their Owners...

In my mind, it is a well known fact that people tend to choose a dog that resembles them. You see it all the time walking down the street... playing in the park... riding in the car. And, it always makes me howl with laughter (pun intended). The question to me has always been -- why? Is it intentional? Is it just another way that we've turned our poor K-9 friends into accessories -- choosing one's that will be most flattering to our own best features? Or, perhaps, all these ideas are barking up the wrong tree (I'm sorry! Sometimes I can't help myself!). Psychological research shows that we are more attracted to mates with similar features -- which is why people so often look like the sibling to their spouse. So, why is it so surprising that the same holds true for our furry pals?

In case you need some more convincing, here are some poignant examples...

Convinced yet? In case you want more proof, you can check out this article that MSNBC published on the subject. In the meantime, I'll sit here and ponder what this means for me...

Confession...

I am ashamed to admit that I’ve taken up the Twilight series (albeit not without some kicking and screaming). I swore for months that I would never subject myself to such frivolous reading while there was so much NON-fiction to learn about my world. But, ultimately, a two hour flight delay and a “bargain book” cart in Pittsburgh International Airport did me in. At first, I kept the cover hidden and told myself I was only seeing what the hype was all about… but before long I was hook-line-and-sinker’ed into the twisty plot; buying (at full price, no less) the second and third instillation.

It took me some time to start admitting to people that I was actually reading these books – and even now I’m kind of cringing over the knowledge that I am about to post my guilt for the world (a.k.a. my 7 followers – haha) to read. And yet, I can’t help but ask people if they have read them – if for no other reason than to hear their thoughts. Do they like Jacob or Edward? What would they do if they were Bella? Is it cooler to be a vampire or a werewolf? … and even hearing (slash reading) my words right now, I can’t help but blush a little at how silly this whole vampire business is.

But, apparently it is NOT silly to some people. I was talking with my sister-in-law, the lovely Amelia Clawson over the weekend – I had passed off books one and two to her thinking she might enjoy them (but fearing she wouldn’t and would judge me!). Of course, since she is currently alive, she has heard lots of the inescapable hype surrounding the Twilight saga and hit me up with a surprising question. Here is [an approximation of] how our convo went…

Amelia: So, have these books affected your relationship with Jake?
Me: Um… you mean in the sense that he [my husband] never stops making fun of me for reading them the same way I used to make fun of people for reading them?
Amelia: No, I mean I know a lot of people who have read them and they say it makes them really unsatisfied with their relationships…. Like their [significant other] isn’t romantic enough for them and now they are unhappy.
Me: [blank, unbelieving stare]

And, my shock was really sincere. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve swooned over Edward Cullen’s words to Bella a time or two while reading. But, those swoons were similar to the butterflies I feel at the sappiest part of a Romantic Comedy film – the denouement moment (yes, I did just whip out that word – on behalf of Mrs. Bantley, my 8th grade English teacher) when they run into each other’s arms, kiss, and he/she says [insert rom-com tagline here]. But, you aren’t going to find me sitting around wishing that Jake would suddenly become an immortal creature of the night (no matter how debonair those extra 100+ years might make him).

I also don’t desire for him to be a money-hungry sports agent screaming “show me the money!”so that I can whisper “You had me at hello” …or expect to hear the sweeping orchestral tones of “Gone with the Wind” when we kiss …or dream about him suddenly revealing he is actually a Prince. It is possible to enjoy the romance and fantasy of it all without believing it is possible for yourself (or even WISHING it was)!

So, what is it in people (maybe I should more accurately say women) that clings to these fantastic stories in such a way that it would leave them dissatisfied with real life?

Perhaps it is all about expectations. Our Hollywood obsession and romance novel craze paints a picture in our minds of very specific dynamic between men and women. Suddenly, women need saved from evil, from themselves, or from loneliness… and there are 10 shirtless, smooth-talking Romeos ready to step in and lift them to safety. He always knows EXACTLY what to say… he is ever-faithful… he never wants to watch Sports Center when she wants to watch Top Model… and has magically been waiting for her all his life.

To me – if there are truly people out there who have read the Twilight books and found themselves dissatisfied with their real life relationships – this distortion says so much more about the relationships then it does about the fantasy story itself. Or, perhaps more accurately, it says much more about the one doing the fantasizing. It seems to me that this expresses an immaturity that’s blurring the lines between what the head wants and what the heart wants. And, you might be surprised at which I attribute to which, because-- I think our heads can create this image of the “right” person for us… and I’ve seen this “ideal match” image do a lot more damage than it does good. I have several friends who I’ve watched throw away potentially good relationships over surface issues and excuses of “he’s not my type.” And, I’ve also seen those same friends struggle to hold on to bad relationships because he seemed like such a “perfect fit” from the get-go. But our hearts (maybe “souls” or “spirits” would be more accurate?) seem to have less expectations. Our hearts are always looking for the best in people, they fall for people easily, they seek to give rather than receive… and, as a result, they sometimes get broken (c’est la vie). Real relationships aren’t perfect – they are difficult, time consuming, and full of mistakes. But, they are so much better than the idealistic fantasies because they include our flaws and brokenness. With all the hurt in the world – sometimes I think it’s a just a miracle that you can find someone you truly love and for them to love you right back.

But, I digress (because I feel myself shrinking into the depths of sappiness). The point is… wishing your boyfriend was a vampire and wearing an “I heart Edward Cullen” t-shirt is no less silly to me then learning Klingon and going to Star Trek conventions in full-costume. It is escapism. It is your brain screaming out that this world just isn’t good enough for you if it doesn’t include aliens or the undead. And, while it might be fun to imagine yourself in a world of space travel and/or romantic “vegetarian” vampires – at the end of the day it is just stealing you away from investment in real life.

But, I’m still going to finish this series…

Control O' Birth

I’m not a morning person - I truly have never been one. For the first few hours of my day, I am practically a different person as a hobble around Frankenstein-esque looking for people to snap at for no reason. My lack of morning love is also the reason that my hair is absurdly undone 99% of the time (because how could I possibly muster up the energy to wash, blow dry and properly straighten when I can hardly stand with my eyes open). All in all, I spend my zombie mornings complaining and groaning for my midday awakening.

But, of course, some mornings are worse than the average. And, I had such a morning last Tuesday…

I woke up to a bright sky peeking through my window and had the quick thought that I might actually be able to get out of bed with some energy (the sun can do that for me after a series of gloomy days has passed) – but the thought quickly fleeted as I noticed a sharp pain in my stomach. I rolled over helplessly… instantly feeling nauseated. Thinking it would pass quickly; I got up and began my morning routine. But the day got darker as I began brushing my teeth. “Oh no,” I said out loud as I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes widening as my toothbrush hung meaninglessly out of my mouth. I knew this churning in my stomach could only mean one thing… so I threw my toothbrush down on the counter and leapt across my closet of a bathroom… only to spend the next 10 minutes with my face surrounded with porcelain. As I flushed and stood up to RE-brush my teeth, only one thought was ringing through my head – “SWINE FLU!!!” I was thoroughly convinced that I would soon be on the nightly news, looking sickly and causing mass hysteria everywhere I went.

But then, noticing that my stomach wasn’t aching much… I chalked it up to a fluke and decided to just head to work hoping for the best.

I was on the bus believing I was healed, when I began to notice the aching pain again. Slowly the nausea crept back as well, and I began to look around me for my plan of escape. Why they don’t have barf bags on buses, I will never know --- but I pulled the stop signal, pushed passed the crowds of people to the front, and leapt from the bus to heave some more on a patch of grass beside the bus stop. “TSS!!!” I thought – “I always knew it would get me in the end!” I was busy imagining my funeral and the shock (no pun intended) that would pass across my female friends’ faces when they realized they actually knew someone who had died of the infamous disease (not to mention the confusion on all my male friends’ faces until they were told by some woman to read the pamphlet inside the tampon box to learn more about “Toxic Shock Syndrome”) – when I suddenly realized that I was still about 8 blocks from work. I began the slow walk, feeling dizzy and nauseous. And, of course, I stopped several times along the way to toss a few more cookies.

By the time I got to my desk I was physically feeling better… but was in mental ANGUISH. I need to phone a friend… but, since I was at work I did the next best thing (thank God for G-chat!). I told Jamie the story, and her first response was:

Jamie: Swine flu
Me: Do I have swine flu?
Toxic shock?
Jamie: Toxic shock is more of a fever I think
What if you're preg!?
Me: omg.... thats the worst thought ever
If I was preg.... omg.... I'd be so upset.
Could I be?

*Let me just state a formal apology for the all the omg’s and negative talk about pregnancy. But, in that moment I was in PANIC MODE. I think babies are great… and I want one SOMEDAY… but the thought of a surprise pregnancy where my life is right now is FRIGHTENING.

Me: I just had my period
Jamie: I don't know
Me: crap – I just threw up again.
In my desk trash can!
Jamie: Ask Lindey! She's on gchat

*Lindey is like our sex and pregnancy GURU in my group of close friends. Not only is she already on baby #2 (due any day now!), but she is one of the most level-headed girls I know in the face of crisis. I couldn’t be more thrilled that she was online…

me: Lindey, you there!??
I need quick advice!
Lindey: IM HERE!!!
me: omg, Lindey, Im scared Im pregnant.
Heres the details.... [gave her the whole story]
Lindey: Swine flu??
Lindey: I hope you're preg!!!!!!!!

*I wasn’t surprised to hear her say this… she’s been hoping some of us would catch up with her soon. But, is it sad that I was HOPING for Swine Flu at this point?

And just when I was sure I should head to the hospital (either to be quarantined or for a pregnancy test)… Jamie asked the most brilliant question possible…

Jamie: Did you take extra birth control or something?

It hit me like a brick wall – OF COURSE! I was late picking up my BC this month because of STUPID Giant Eagle Pharmacy’s short Sunday hours. I got it so late on Monday and took a double dose long after eating dinner… this had to be it! I consulted Lindey for a second opinion…

Lindey: AHHHH! Thats it. I used to get morning sickness every time I would double up!!! Honestly every time. I bet that you will feel fine in a few hours or even sooner. Eat a little something.

And sure enough… my two friends were right. I few nibbles on some toast later and I was right as rain.

Well… at least physically, that is. Because now I can’t stop thinking about just HOW negative my reaction was. Is that how I’m going to feel when it actually does happen? Are you ever really ready for that kind of thing? It seems that babies have been on my mind a little more – mostly because more and more of my friends are having them these days. But, my life just feels SOOOO far from this next stage. I’ve dreamed of being a mom someday – but it has always felt far off. Now, with babies popping out right and left (Don’t be mad moms and moms-to-be -- not trying to diminish the miracle with that statement!) I suddenly feel confused and behind.

But I guess it relates back to my below post about rushing stages (Spring, Sprang, Sprung). Everyone is going to carve their own path… and it does no good to keep looking to your left and right trying to keep up with the proverbial Joneses. Cause, truthfully, I’m thinking I’ve got a couple more years of false pregnancy scares ahead of me… and maybe someday I’ll be able to truly say I’m “ready.” Here’s hoping…

For a more humorous take on reaching the age when everyone is having babies, check out The Closet Dork's take HERE.

Birds of a Feather...

My boss is a nature FREAK.

And, let me be clear, I say that with the utmost respect. Years ago, knowing random facts about nature specimens and carrying your binoculars through the park (complete with white tube socks up to knees and too-tight cargo khakis) was an instant sign of NERD. But these days, as the world is getting warmer and the icebergs are melting… Nature Nerds have finally stepped into the limelight to be respected by the world at large.

My boss is one of these freak-turned-heroes. He (literally) DIGS through garbage to find recyclables, chooses vacation locations based on the local bird populations, and knows (and is happy to recite!) the most random facts about flora and fauna. If I were to create a buzz-word bingo for my boss, my card would definitely include the words: “ecosystem,” “global warming,” “species,” “Wait – that’s recyclable!,” and “peregrine falcon” (The last one because APPARENTLY one flies by his window about 3 times a day, leading him to shout out to me to let me know. My typical response: “Wow. Cool, Dave. Too bad I missed it again.” – while rolling my eyes).

When it comes down to it, I will never be a Nature Nerd. Don’t get me wrong – I LOVE the great outdoors. And, beyond that, I MENTALLY see all the reasons why we SHOULD be working hard to preserve/protect our environment – I just can’t seem to put my money where my mouth is. I recycle vicariously – handing off bottles to my boss and/or counting on Len, the crazy dumpster diver in my neighborhood, to sort out my recyclables from my regular trash (I am NOT making that up! There is a guy who literally digs through dumpsters in the neighborhood and then puts out HEAPS and HEAPS of plastic, paper, and glass on recycling day. WHAT PASSION!). I find myself envious of the Nature Lover – wanting SO badly to become a trendy recycler and tree hugger! But, it just doesn’t seem to be in me.

But I’m definitely not envious of the love for birds. There are few people in this world more crazy to me than bird watchers. To me, it would be just as normal to be a vermin watcher and go around “oooh”ing and “aaaah”ing over rats in alleyways, cockroaches behind walls, and mice in the attic. Birds are the dirtiest, most disease-ridden creatures I know! And, I literally get a chill up my spine when a pigeon waddles towards me…

This is my worst nightmare!

(p.s. Is that Jake's long lost twin?!?)

So, while I may try to learn a few things from my boss and be a little more willing to go out of my way to recycle – you won’t see me in my khaki shorts with binoculars around my neck any time soon.

Plant a Tree

Something has been really plaguing my thoughts lately and I can’t seem to figure out why.


I work in Pittsburgh’s own little skyscraper – although 64 floors might seem a bit meager in the list of World’s Tallest Buildings (its only 35th tallest in the US alone), this building has quite a dominance in the humble skyline that belongs to the ‘Burgh. And, to live up to its size, the US Steel Tower works hard to maintain its grounds and lobbies with décor that screams “We’re all Business here, Folks.” While I realize that this makes sense from a point of view that seeks to bring in companies to lease space – it certainly leaves much to be desired in the way of inspiring me to take on the day with a dose of office vigor (Sorry, US Steel Tower interior designer… I’m sure it wasn’t your fault, but grays, tans & metals aren’t very feng shui!).

But the good people in charge of the grounds in and around the Tower have tried to spruce up the place with some eco- goodness (how very trendy!) by littering the place here and there with these:

Trees! Now, that’s more like it! They’ve got to be filling me with at least a few ounces of extra energy, or, at the very least, a few ounces of extra oxygen (can you measure oxygen in ounces?)!

I must have walked by these trees close to a hundred times before I suddenly had the realization that they were potted (I know, I know… I’m an idiot not to have realized this at first glance considering that many of them are INDOORS – but, sometimes my brain is vacant while I walk, ok?!). Now, potted trees are a nice enough idea for bringing the outdoors indoors… but I can’t help but wonder: What kind of life is this for the tree?

Now, I am no tree hugger (not that I'm opposed -- I've just never felt the urge), but honestly, the poor things are (dare I say it) crippled! I’ve heard it said that a tree’s root system has the same (if not larger) width/girth/depth of a tree’s branch system – but for these poor fellows that can’t possibly be the case. And, it’s the same for the outdoor trees in the courtyard – beautiful, but stifled by their cement prison. And, now that I’m thinking of it – what is going to happen to these trees as they continue to grow? Will they eventually be replanted in soil they can really spread out in? Are they discarded? Or, does the lack of root space keep them from ever reaching their potential growth? Please, all you blog-reading botanists – GIVE US SOME ANSWERS!!

So why is this bothering me so much? More than likely its because I live my life in analogies. I look at these trees… think of their roots… and immediately think about my own ability to plant some roots. And, to be honest, this stage of life sort has me feeling like a potted tree.

I moved to Pittsburgh with the idea of it as a temporary home. It made the most sense for my life at the moment (Seeing that the man I was marrying was going to be in school there for 3 years)… but in the back of my mind I was already wondering “where next?” And, that once fleeting thought has taken up permanent residence in my brain space, because 2 ½ years later… with AT LEAST 2 more years committed to this city… I still am wondering “but where NEXT?”

And, there is something about this way of thought/life that I think is really… as I said before… crippled. I’ve made Pittsburgh my pot – and I’m planted, but with no real roots. If I don’t allow myself roots where I am TODAY… then I’m stunting my own growth. How much more growth would I have seen if I allowed Pittsburgh to be my park (Tree farm? Field? – I couldn’t quite pick a good growing place name… haha).

And, sure, it’s a risk… because ultimately, the roots are going to make any future moves that much more painful and difficult – but it sure seems to be a better way of living for TODAY.

Currently on "Repeat Play" in my Head...

If you know her music at all, its no surprise that I'm a huge fan of Ani Difranco. My blog title very UNsubtly references one of her albums that is an all time favorite of mine. Here's the song that originally won me over to her music with its honesty and simplicity...

"Angry Anymore" by Ani Difranco

growing up it was just me and my mom against the world

and all my sympathies were with her when i was a little girl

but now i've seen both my parents play out the hands that they were dealt

and as each year goes by i know more about how my father must have felt

i just want you to understand

that i know what all the fighting was for

and i just want you to understand

that i'm not angry anymore

i'm not angry anymore

she taught me how to wage a cold war with quiet charm

but i just want to walk through my life unarmed

to accept and just get by like my father learned to do

but without all the acceptance and getting by that got my father through

I just want you to understand

that i know what all the fighting was for

and i just want you to understand

that i'm not angry anymore

i'm not angry anymore

night falls like people into love

we generate our own light to compensate for the lack of light from above

every time we fight a cold wind blows our way

but we can learn like the trees

how to bend how to sway and say

i think i understand

what all this fighting is for and

baby, i just want you to understand

that i'm not angry anymore

no, i'm not angry anymore

4 Things

I just couldn't resist this little survey -- it combines so many of my favorite things: nostalgia, list making, and the number 4!

Four Places I go over and over:

1. Padded Chair in the window corner of the US Steel Tower 2nd Lobby Level.

This is my lunch escape - where I get to sit in the sun, read, and forget the busy morning.

2. Lebanon Presbyterian Church

Though unfortunately it feels more like a job than a place of rest -- Im here often for endless youth events, early sunday school mornings, and various church functions.

3. Downtown Macy's Perfume Selection

Another lunchtime getaway as Macy's is the practically the only downtown shopping. I never buy, but I love sampling the new scents and dreaming up the perfect event for each.

4. Jake's Passenger Seat

Here often because I don't drive, I also love it because its the perfect place to let my brain (and mouth) unwind... plus I often get to catch up on the latest NPR scoop.

Four TV Shows I Watch:

1. The Office: for laughs

2. Jeopardy: for knowledge

3. Grey's Anatomy: for drama

4. America's Next Top Model: for the hell of it

Four Smells I Love:

1. Spring Lilacs: childhood

2. Campfire in my Hair: the end of a great night

3. Ocean Air: the smell of relaxation

4. Fresh Baked Bread: yum!

Four Places I'd Rather Be Right Now:

1. At the Dish Cafe eating scones while surrounded by fellow 4Easters

2. On the Spanish Steps of Rome with Jake and a bottle of Red Wine

3. Hiking near Mt. Ranier with my Brothers

4. Navigating the chaos of Malawi's markets with sugarcane stuck in my teeth

Currently on "Repeat Play" in my Head...

This song is kind of old at this point, and has been on my "favs" list for several years. I think I keep coming back to it because its a bit of a theme song for this stage in life... although I still have NO idea what the "mushaboom" is all about. Any ideas?

"Mushaboom" by Fiest

Helping the kids out of their coats -

But wait, the babies haven't been born.

Unpacking the bags and setting up,

And planting lilacs and buttercups.

But in the meantime we've got it hard -

Second floor living without a yard.

It may be years until the day

My dreams will match up with my pay.

Old dirt road
(mushaboom, mushaboom)

Knee deep snow
(mushaboom, mushaboom)

Watching the fire as we grow old

I got a man to stick it out

And make a home from a rented house.

And we'll collect the moments one by one

I guess that's how the future's done.

How many acres? How much light?

Tucked in the woods and out of sight

Talk to the neighbors and tip my cap

On a little road barely on the map.

Old dirt road
(mushaboom, mushaboom)

Knee deep snow
(mushaboom, mushaboom)

Watching the fire as we grow old.

Old dirt road
Rambling rose
(mushaboom, mushaboom)

Watching the fire as we grow

(mushaboom, mushaboom)

Well I'm Sold...

Chivalry Murdered on a City Bus

I spend about 4.167% of my day on a bus (literally… I just did the math). All in all, I regularly enjoy my hour of people watching, mental prep/recap of my day, and general mental numbness – It is relaxing. However; of late the ride has been a bit bumpier (literally and figuratively). For whatever reason, the buses are PACKED. Maybe it’s the warmer weather or the economic downturn motivating people to drive less – but, whatever the reason, it has been rough. I have to stand awkwardly, crammed in like a sardine as I cling to the small metal pipe hanging 2 feet above my head. That scrap of metal is my only hope for mobile stability – keeping me from being thrown into a stranger’s lap. The bus is the only place I would stand this close to people – if you want a ride, you have to be ok with the idea of your body being pressed to somebody else’s, your purse hitting someone’s face, and multiple people pushing and pulling you to make their way to the front when it’s their stop. And that’s only if I am lucky enough to get a spot on a bus -- I am not kidding here… sometimes they are so full that there is literally NO room for one person and the driver just shrugs as he pulls his little handle to close the door while I stand on the sidewalk sulking.

Unfortunately, I think this phenomenon has been creating some mob mentality. I’ve noticed some extra grouchiness, a slight annoyance in someone’s eyes when they have to give up their seat to an elderly individual, and a general lack of apologies (if not some intentionality!) associated all the pushing, pulling, and touching.

However, yesterday on my commute home it reached a level I never expected. As the bus ride progressed, we had reached a point where people were beginning to empty out. There were still plenty more people than seats (I, personally, was clinging to my pole near the backdoor), but as people were standing up to get off the bus more and more of those remaining were getting a chance to sit. A seat cleared near me – I thought about claiming it – but noticed a middle-aged man was a little closer, so I thought I’d leave it for him. He looked at the seat… glanced at me… and nodded his head towards it – “I’m off at the next stop, anyway.” VICTORY! I slowly headed to my prize…

But, then, just as I was about to reach the seat, a man (probably late-twenties or early-thirties) came racing from the front. Like a slow-motion action scene – I could see his eyes focused on MY dirty bus seat…I could see his hands clench as he got closer… he was speed walking, nearly running, as he pushed over women and children… (ok, maybe I made up the part about women and children). He got there JUST before I did; we even bumped each other slightly as he powered himself down. And then, (here is where the ridiculous begins) as a smile of success came across his face, he looked me right in the eyes and without a laugh said, “I beat you, bitch. The seat is mine.” (sorry for just putting that out there – but, I felt a substitute word just wouldn’t quite give you the same effect --- maybe I should label my blog for “adult content,” haha)

I sucked in air from the shock --- WWWHHAATTT??!! I felt myself cower like I dog who had been scolded for peeing on the carpet (a look I have recently become all too familiar with due to our new shelter dog houseguest) – I was confused and hurt. I looked around for someone to stand up for me (coward that I am), but people either chuckled or ignored his harsh words. I wasn’t even mad about the seat anymore…. (Well, maybe a little)…. But, when did that word become ok for anyone to say? I mean, sure, I’ll throw out a “Bi-yatch” every now and then when joking with my CLOSEST friends (usually in the same sentence as a “holla!”)…. But this is not a word that I am comfortable being called (although, it is interesting that I made the female dog reference a few sentences back – haha).

I returned to my pole wondering if I should say something… stand up for women everywhere… but then I just stood there thinking about how pleasantries/manners/politeness have been on a continual decline with every passing generation in the last 100+ years. Though I consider myself a modern girl – I’ve still always found myself wooed by chivalry. And the realization that it may, as the saying goes, truly be dead was depressing. How could this seemingly normal man turn a bus seat into a competition with a woman – and celebrate with vulgarities in her face? Is he out there today thinking, “Yeah, maybe I took that one too far” -- or is that truly the place we have reached in this day and age.

R.I.P. Chivalry

But, then again… maybe there is hope. Maybe chivalry just has a terminal illness… or maybe it just needs to stop walking toward the light! There has got to be more than a few good men out there! My own husband has always carried with him a southern politeness that I find charming (although, don’t ask me where he got it since he’s from Western PA…haha). I'd like to think he is fighting to keep ol' Chivalry alive...

He still opens doors for me.
(…chest pump, chest pump…)

He’ll still offer me his jacket when it’s chilly.
(…mouth-to-mouth…)




He even pays every time we go out for dinner…
Even though we have joint accounts, haha.
(…chest pump, chest pump…)

And…. WE HAVE A PULSE!

And, I know he is not the only one -- so, to all of you chivalrous men out there – keep doing what you are doing. You alone are the ones performing the CPR that keeps chivalry alive! You cannot rest – the murders are mighty and many!