Project Hera: On Hold

Darn, and just when I was really getting into it, too! I'm sorry to say that Project Hera has been postponed for at least a few weeks, but at least with good cause.

It turns out that Weasel needed the book more than I do. As we pack her and her spinning wheel off to college, she's really worried that she won't make friends, won't fit in, isn't attractive... all fears I can debunk in about half a second, but let's face it: hearing it and believing it are totally separate things.

As much as I want to just sit Weasel down and tell her that in college there are no popular kids, and the people who were losers in high school meet all the other losers from high school and suddenly no one is a loser anymore and you have friends who know and love you. Hey, I met Super Boy the first day of college, so anything is possible!

But Weasel needs to learn all of this for herself. And I want her to feel as confident and self-assured as possible, so my copy of Seven Days to Sex Appeal is now (temporarily) in her hands. What does she hope to gain from it? Well, that's her business, but I get the feeling that, like me sadly, she just needs a boost in her assertiveness, self-confidence and just become more aware of herself in general.

So go forth and learn Weasel, and who knows? Maybe you can teach me a thing or two!

Because I am not sexy...

I have a confession to make: I am not hot. I am not particularly thin, my face is not particularly beautiful, and I don't know what to do with hair and clothing. Yes, I do have clinically diagnosed body dysmorphic disorder, but regardless, I am still convinced that, although I am told I am pretty, I do not see myself in that way and I do not think I attract positive attention.

It also doesn't help that I have low self-esteem or confidence.

In an effort to make me feel better about myself, Super Boy recommended  I buy this book, not so much as to be "sexier" but more assertive and confident in social situations, which, if you are a habitual reader, you know I am not.

So this is my seven day experiment: I will practice one of the lessons every few days and report my findings. If nothing else, this could be a fascinating read on the power of body language...

Don't mess with my magic...

It's hard to believe but it's already been one month since Super Boy and I hopped on a plane and went to Disney. Everyone one who went, from (the now slightly more likable) Gavone to my sisters Lady Diva and Weasel, from my mom and dad to my cousin, Opossum, and Aunt Squeak, everyone still raves about how much fun it was, how incredible the adventures, and how soon we must return.

In fact, it was a frequent topic of discussion this weekend when we were all reassembled at my parents home for a family weekend celebrating Weasel's graduation. And in between looking at pictures (again and again) and reliving our glory days in the sun, we also had some rather philosophical discussions on propriety, manners, and what is appropriate when in public.

The conversation centered on the final day we spent in Disney, spent mostly in the Magic Kingdom. It was the appointed "Gay Day" at the park; LGBTQ individuals, family and groups  had spent the week in the surrounding area outside the park and help events in Disney and elsewhere, a sort of meet and greet vacation. That day it was a trip to the Magic Kingdom they planned, and thousands of people in red shirts (the color of the day, I assume, there's no other explanation) poured off the monorail and into the park.

Other than the increased crowd, it usually wouldn't have bothered my family in the least. When you live in a family like mine, you tend to have a very relaxed "live and let live" mentality about these kinds of things. It would even be worth mentioning if it hadn't been for the shirts.

Those red shirts. Some of them have really cute saying on them, like "I believe in fairies!" But others were, if not offensive, then at least incredibly inappropriate in a children and family friendly environment. Some said things like "Fag" and "Hag," which would be difficult to explain to a child, but others were outright and blatantly sexual, like "Single: form line in rear" and "Big Bear Boy" (not explaining that one, look it up yourself).

 Here's the issue: Your business is your business, but when you are out in public, especially at a place like Disney, which is specifically designed for children and families, you need to keep in mind what's appropriate for the situation. Night club? Wear the leather chaps. Disney? Stick to the glittery fairy wings and magic wands.

My biggest hang up about all this? I wish I had wings like that...

What you need to know about your physician assistant student...

I'm fairly certain I've mentioned the Super Boy is studying to become a physician assistant but I never told you that he's a blogger, too. In fact, his blog on pre-physician assistant students has become quite popular in some circles!

While offering unique insights into the student experience, however, he has neglected to discuss what the experience is like for those around them, especially family and significant others. This, I feel, warrants some information,explanation and advice on my part, as I am very well aware how grueling this program can be...

You'll be alone even if you are sitting in the same room as your student. This might be the hardest part. A student can be so focused on their work for hours at a time, every night for weeks, until you might as well be in a room by yourself. You might also get more conversation by talking to yourself, too. I haven't found a good way to combat this feeling yet, but I think it's worth knowing about. The best advice I can offer on this point is to make sure our student sets aside some time for activities that you both enjoy and can participate in without thinking about your workloads. Quality time is scare, so use it wisely!

You'll be taken for granted, even if they don't mean to. I have seen Super Boy take a plate of dinner I'd spent hours making and start to tuck in without ever taking his eyes off of his computer screen and his radiology scans. He'll drop dirty scrubs and clothes and books all over the apartment I'd spent all day cleaning. And yeah, it makes me mad, but I know he doesn't mean to do it. His head is so full of pharmacology, H&P's,  and anatomy that he's drained at the end of the day and blind to a lot of the little things that are happening in the background. Try not to take it too personally, but gently point these things out if they are really bothering you.

Be patient and supportive with your student, but don't hesitate to give them a swift and loving kick in the pants if they start to get snippy with you or too critical of themselves. It takes a lot of faith to wade through all the dysfunction, and you need to be there to act as a guinea pig for their physical exams, quiz-masters for flashcards and general cheerleader when their spirits get down. But it's just as important they you do not let them take their frustration and anxiety out on you, and it's counter productive to let them beat up on themselves. Be firm, positive, honest and assure them that everything will be okay.

The good times will be really good. I know I might sound like this is a miserable, heartbreaking program, and some days it can be, but when things are good they are really good. For instance, when Super Boy and I were in Disney World, we were so deliriously happy and spent every moment together. The fact that the week was sandwiched between very busy weeks made it all the more special. You can expect every day to be a fairy tale, but the fairy tales you do have are extra sweet!

I hope this gives some comfort and insight to those who love physician assistant students, and who knows? Maybe I'll get Super Boy to be a guest blogger and offer his side of the story...

Feminism and Common Sense

Super Boy came home with an interesting story last night. During a lecture the presenter was drawing parallels between offering medical care to teenage boys and girls. Whereas a boy will give you barely audible one word answers, a teenage girl will not only tell you what hurts, but everything else that's happened in the last month!

This exaggeration provides a useful caricature; guys may say too little, and girls may say more than you need. And it was the effective use of generalization as a teaching tool that makes the comparison so resonant; I doubt anyone in the lecture will forget the examples given.

Not everyone, however, saw these generalizations in their intended light. One individual in particular took such offense that, after writing swear words all over her lecture notes, stormed out of the room an refused to return until the lecturer had left for the day. This whole show was done in the name of "feminism;" apparently, drawing a comparison between men and women was a slur against females in general, and was perceived as a great insult.

This is where I begin to question wisdom of letting beliefs grow so strong that they begin to cloud reason and common sense. I have strong beliefs, too. I think everybody does in some way. But I firmly believe that just because I feel a certain way about things that I have the right to rub anyone's nose in it. And that's what this girl did: she allowed her feelings about feminism overrule common manners such as paying attention in class and showing respect to professors. She even did herself a disservice in leaving a lecture and handicapping her education.

The moral I find in this story? Believe in what you think is right, be it regarding faith, politics or other hot topics. Stand up for your beliefs. But don't let them cloud your common sense.

Creation and Inspiration

I am back from a incredible week in Disney World (posts to follow!) and I am now inspired to get active and make something. I am trying to keep criminology off the brain and unwind with other, more relaxing, pursuits. Namely, I have recently begun creating and "upcycling" (recycling, updating and improving existing pieces) jewelry pieces.

In addition to making a necklace and a locket for myself, I have just ordered beading supplies and metal findings to start creating original hat pins! This first line of products will be marketed on Esty at the Daughter Of the Roses shop and will be called "Itsy Bitsy Spyder," as it is my first and "elementary" attempt at creating art for sale!

Featured above is the logo that Super Boy created for me. I drew a sketch on a crumpled Post-It, and he turned it into art. Thank, hun!

Updates to follow as the supplies arrive and, of course, obligatory sales pitches...

War is not a game...

Super Boy and I had an argument last night, over something many might consider petty. It was about video games, which Super Boy has been exposed to from a young age and enjoys playing in moderation. I, on the other hand, never owned a video game until this year when Super Boy and I bought a Wii, and I don't necessarily see what the allure is. To make matters worse, we don't see eye-to-eye on what games we want in our home, specifically one called "Call of Duty 3."

This video game puts the player in the middle of WWII, sending them on missions with weapons and comrades and enemies and lots and lots of blood.  Unlike many anti-video game people, it's not the blood and violence of the video game I object to, but rather the subject matter: how can people profit off one of the bloodiest wars in human history? Why is WWII reduced to a video game?

And why are we as a society okay with this?

 War is often treated as something remote and sterile in video games, making it more fantasy and fiction than a harsh reality. In addition to treating war as a game, society uses days set aside for remembering veterans and offering thanks as excuses for shopping. Memorial Day? Veteran's Day? They are now more about retail than remembering.

Think about it: would we treat 9/11 in this way? Would our culture look at these video games the same way if you could play the first-person role of a terrorist, or a passenger on Flight 93? Would we be okay if  retail stores offer 9.11% off all patio furniture for three days only? If these suggestions offend you, good. They offend me, too. And the treatment of WWII or any war as a source of entertainment or commerce is no different. I think we need to get our priorities straight.

And, perhaps most important of all, you can't restart the game if you are killed in a real war, and nobody throws a sale in your honor.

Moment of Joy

The day is near! It might seem silly or juvenile, but for my family Disney World truly is the happiest place on earth. And this Saturday we are on our way...

Super Boy and I are particularly  excited to go; it's not just a vacation to us. It's not just pop culture and cartoon characters. It's more than just hanging by a pool or going on rides. To us, it's symbolic in a way, as ridiculous as it may seem. It's about our families, and happiness, and laughing. It's about silliness, pure joy, and leaving stress and worries behind, if only for a few days.

For us, Disney brings together all of the best things of life...

So while we pack, beg our friends for rides to and from the airport, and checking and double checking our flight status, we keep one things in mind: we're going to the happiest place on earth, and for a few days, all the world is right!

Not many days left...

It's a small world...

It's official... I'm going to Disney World! My family's group of twelve members of my family, including Super Boy, will be going for a week of fun, relaxation, good food and adventure. It's an absolute dream come true for me I've loved Disney World ever since I first went as a two-year old, and nothing has changed in the 21 years since then. For the first installment of get-ready-for-vacation videos, our hotel... the Polynesian!

BBQ Time!

Gorgeous weather like we've been having in my neck of the woods always makes me think about sunny days at the beach, the small of sunscreen and sand, and, of course, Okie's. I have spent at least part of every summer on Long Beach Island in New Jersey, home of great surf, great memories, and a great deli.

Okie's Butcher Shop not only has the best burgers and hot dogs on the island (or anywhere, as far as I'm concerned) but they also have the best potato salad. I introduced Super Boy to Okie's a few years ago and he's just as hooked as I am. And let's face it, it's just about impossible not to love red skinned potato salad that amazing. So In honor of springtime and the beginning of beach season, I present my very own potato salad recipe, created through trial and error in hopes of capturing Okie's flavor. It may not be Okie's, but I think it's pretty darn good!

If you try the recipe, please leave me a message in the comment's section. I'd love to get some feed back. 

Oh, and yes, that is a giant wooden cow on their roof.

Surf City Potato Salad
3 lbs red skinned potatoes
Kosher salt (to salt boiling water)
1 cup Miracle Whip Free
2 tablespoons of spicy brown mustard
Freshly ground black pepper (give it a good 5 or 6 turns)
Simply Organic's "grind to a salt" seasoning blend* (another 5 or 6 turns)
1 stick celery chopped fine
1 small yellow onion chopped fine

Scrub your potatoes and place them in a pot. Cover with water, add Kosher salt and bring to a boil. Once boiling, lower to a simmer and let sit for 15 minutes. Drain them into a colander, place colander over the pot and cover with a dishtowel. Let them steam like this for another 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, combine Miracle Whip, mustard, pepper and salt seasoning blend t a large bowl and mix until well combined. Toss in your chopped celery and onion at this point, and stir until everything is nice and covered.

When your potatoes are done steaming and are cool enough for you to handle, cut them into halves or quarters, depending on size, and toss them into your big bowl of dressing. Leave the skins on! Stir everything together until it's all combined and covered. Now place in the fridge and allow it to sit for a few hours until completely cold. This will allow the flavors to fully combine.

Enjoy!

Notes: I use Miracle Whip Free just to cut down on the calories, but feel free to use your favorite mayo or mayo substitute.  You can also vary your potatoes depending on what you have available or your preference.

* available at food stores like Whole Foods, etc. I use it in everything!

Love is in the Air

This week Super Boy and I will be together three years. And in a little more than two, we'll be getting married. I've done a bit more wedding research this weekend and I've come to the conclusion that weddings, like any family function, are political drama fests disguised as parties. Who gets to be a bridesmaid? Do I have to have Lady Diva (middle sister)? Do I have to invite Gavone (Diva's obnoxious boyfriend)? Can my cousins be his groomsmen? Can I put all the people I don't like at a table in the back?I know I'm going to have to give in a lot to keep the peace, and sometimes I'll have to grin and bear it when I'd really rather be screaming.

On the bright side, my mom and Weasel (youngest sister) are both very involved in the planning. So much so that I sometimes get phone calls from them telling me what they have decided my wedding will be like. So far velour tracksuits are the worst suggestion (I hope they were kidding) and a two week honeymoon to Disney World the best (although it looks my entire family will be joining Super Boy and I...).

What have I learned in the end? It's going to be a busy two years, and patience will be a virtue I must nurture. I'm sure I'll laugh about this in years to come...

PS- I designed the image above as a potential "wedding logo" for Super Boy and I. It was the first time I've used photoshop in years and I really am just proud on myself! Consider it this week's Moment of Joy!

Moment of Joy

I don't often have a lot of time to get creative, but when the mood strikes me I tend to craft at the speed of lightning. One afternoon, three projects. And I must say the process, from planning to finished product, is such a joy to me.

This is my second vintage mixed media collage, which I jokingly call my "Postcard from Africa."  Ironically, the day after I made this collage Super Boy and I made a day trip to the Philadelphia Zoo for an end of the holiday adventure (I get really depressed when school starts, so this was a real pick me up!). And what do we see running through an enclosure? Yup, the bird you see above. They are even more beautiful in person!

Also... happy birthday, Super Boy! I love you, endlessly...

Best "Frenemies"... the Story of Toad

I think It's about time I introduced you to Toad. Looking back at my first semester a grad student, I have to say that all of the students in the criminal justice department are really unpretentious and down to earth. Everyone seems ready to talk to you, offer bits of advice, give you encouragement and repeat the mantra I've come to internalize: "You'll worry and you'll work hard, but in the end it's really not that bad."

Everyone is, if a bit reserved and private at first, really quite friendly. That it, everyone but Toad. Imagine, if you will, that stereotypical student of the White Tower, all theory and name dropping and high and mighty opinions. That's Toad, very full of himself and very quick to toot his own horn. He is best described, I suppose as a "frenemy," someone who you are polite and friendly to but secretly hate their guts. He is never outright rude or condescending to anyone, but everything about his manner, and every word that comes out of his mouth, says otherwise.For instance, he recently got a 97/100 on a presentation (during which he stopped every three seconds to refer to some professor's assistance or flatter himself with false modesty) . He turns to me and says, "Oh, well, you know. Not too bad. I don't think there'll be any grades higher. No such thing as perfection." He says all of this, of course, just as I am about to get up an present. So, no pressure or anything.

I like to think I handled this very well. I nodded and made some kind of noncommittal noise in response. I then got up, gave me presentation (which I practiced with Super boy easily 10 times) and, lo and behold!, I am handed my rubric with a large 100/100 written on it with several glowing comments. Being the bigger person, I put the paper in my purse and didn't say anything about it to anyone, but in my head I was whooping with joy.

This is just one example of his behavior. Apparently, I am not the only one to notice or be annoyed by this constant barage of offhanded compliments/insults. Others have approached me with similar gripes; in fact, one of these conversations lead to Toad's epithet. A few fellow disgruntled grad students, all fed up with his references to "Dr. So-and So" and "special projects" and "independent research," tried to analyze the root of this behavior. One student put it brilliantly, referring to a species of toad in his native country; this toad, rather puny and insignificant, will puff itself up and hiss when it feel threatened by another frog and predator.  Following this line of thought, Toad then resorts to rattling off achievements and acquaintances and projects on order to make himself feel bigger than he really is and superior to the rest of us. This is very likely the truth of the matter; while no one else is so vulgar as to list our distinctions, Toad is in a cohort of scholars that have Phi Kappa Phi memberships, Phi Beta Kappa distinctions, teaching assistantships, scholarships and advanced degrees.  Maybe he is inflating his ego to keep up.

I, however, have some worries. Despite knowing the likely reasons for his behavior (insecurity) I still wonder if he is in fact better than me. Do the professors really buy his brown-nosing? Do they see through his flattery, or are they taken in by it? Is he ahead of the game by befriending so many professors and committing himself to so many projects, or is he spreading himself thin to no avail? Will his plan to schmooze every he can really get him ahead?

I don't know. I'd like to think I can compete with him. I have awards. And memberships. And, out of the entire cohort, the department practically begged me to join this program. I was the chosen one. I was the first in their eyes. And yet... I never tell anyone this.  I don't make this sort of information public to my peers. The rest of us are honest in our fears, share our concerns, open in our weaknesses. But Toad never shows weakness. He makes himself bigger than the rest of us and, while I know it's a ruse, I'm still intimidated.

I just wish I knew why, and how I could make it stop.

It can only get better from here...

So the year is off to a really rough start. There have been tensions between family members already, and we have already faced very sad events. For my part, I feel like hiding under my bed most days and pretending the world doesn't exist. The rest of the time I am pretty useless, dazedly walking around the apartment at a loss of what to do.

Much of my black mood springs from fear. Fear for the health and safety of my family. Fear for my own ability to cope with reality. Fear of future. And, probably most pressing at this particular moment, the fear or returning to grad school and criminology. I am not ready to return to the sniping and self-praise of some of my classmates, nor do I feel able to compete with the rest and succeed in my classes. The thought of returning there fills me with dread, and no amount of traveling back and forth between school and my home will make it any better. 

To make matters worse the holidays are over, which at once astounds me and depressed me. I love the Christmas season; it's my favorite time of year, and for it to be ending makes the rest of the years stretch out before as one desolate and bleak expanse.

My rock through all of this has been, of course, Super Boy. He is currently slogging through his first day back at school, and his absence is palpable. This entire break he has been at my side, encouraging me, comforting me, caring for me. I cannot function without him. He has been my strength for a long time; when he asked me to marry him, he began by acknowledging that there would be tough times in our future, be they grad school or other obstacles. But not matter what we'd face, we'd face it together and be there for each other through the good, bad or indifferent. He promised me his strength and his support, his care and his constancy. And that, I think, is the foundation of love.

I am very blessed to have him in my life. As for the rest, I have to have faith and hope in brighter things to come.

Moment of Joy

Now this is an oldie! Taken during a trip to the New York Botanical Gardens a few years ago, this miniature orange tree really caught my eye. Not only do those dew-kissed fruit look scrumptious (and boy, do they) there was something refreshing about them. Just the sight of them makes me feel clean and newly washed in sunshine and sweetness.

But I wax poetic. This picture reminds me of a my mom, dad and Super Boy, the freshness of all things green and growing, and God's promise to make all things new.

An uplifting and comforting thought, no?

Soothe the heart through the stomach...

So I recently experienced the loss of a very, very beloved pet and I can't handle it. I am in denial, I'm angry, and I'm absolutely shattered.

That said, I am trying very hard to keep myself busy and not dwell on sad things. One way I've tried to do keep myself going is cooking. I have always found cooking to be extremely enjoyable; I love the freedom and creativity of the process, especially when the results are good. So yesterday I endeavored to invent my own stir fry recipe from the things I had on hand and whatever I could pick up at the grocery store with minimal expense and ease.

The result is below, my very own Ginger Beef and Peanut Stir Fry. While the vegetables and meats can be varied at will, the sauce if what really brings the whole dish together. Super Boy and I really enjoyed making it together and, of course, devouring nearly the entire pan.

It may not make everything better, but I'd like to think that, in a small way, the heart can be soothed through the stomach. Prayer and faith can help, but love (in any form) is truly the strongest bond of all. 

Ginger Beef and Peanut Stir Fry
¾ lb. lean beef, thinly cut (leftovers work well)
1 tbs grated ginger 
2 tbs peanut butter
2 tbs soy sauce
1 tbs brown sugar, not packed
2 tbs olive oil (For sautéing)
2 carrots, chopped into sticks
1 zucchini, chopped into sticks
1 small onion, cut into large pieces
1 bell pepper, sliced into ribbons
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (small) beef/chicken/ vegetable broth
Dash pepper (go a little heavier if you like it) 
8 oz. angel hair, cooked
Chopped peanuts, for garnish
Directions

1. In a bowl, combine the broth, soy sauce, peanut butter, ginger, sugar and pepper until smooth; set aside
   
2.  In a large skillet or wok, stir-fry the beef, onion, carrots, zucchini, peppers, and garlic in oil for about 8 minutes or until meat is no longer pink. If using leftovers, add the already cooked beef to the pan halfway through the vegetable cooking time.
   
3. Stir the broth mixture and add to the pan. Bring to a boil; cook and stir for 1-2 minutes or until thickened.
   
4. Add cooked noodles and toss until well mixed.
   

Notes: All of the ingredients in this recipe can be increased or omitted at will; it is very adaptable and can be altered to suit individual tastes. Vegetables can be improvised and changed at will. Just make sure everything gets cooked through.  Meats can also be substituted, just make sure they are well cooked accordingly.

The Boss blew it…

Dear Mr. Bruce "The Boss" Springsteen,

So… what was the deal Friday night? Seriously… what happened? This was supposed to be an epic show, you know? We were shutting down the Meadowlands, this was the last night at Giants Stadium. You ever wrote a song about it! You know, "Wrecking Ball?" But, wow, what a letdown. No encore? Really?

Okay, yes, I looked at the set list online and you did play all the songs labeled "encore," but it's not an encore it your don't leave the stage and then come back. Then it's just… well, it's just more concert. Even Supre Boy was pretty disappointed, and he was beside himself with excitment for this concert. Don't get me wrong. "Born to Run?" Epic. I sang, I danced, I cried a little. Same with "Born in the USA," "Badlands"… awesome. But no encore? You just left us standing there, asking each other, "Was that it? Should we go? He's coming back, right?"

But you didn't!

I might be able to forgive all this if you hadn't left out three of my favorite songs. No "Rosalita," no "10^th Avenue Freeze Out," and no "Thunder Road." I love "Thunder Road!" Skipping that song was sacrilegious. Hearing that song live was the main reason I came to see you. And you blew it!

Look, you couldn't help that Bon Jovi never showed, although that would have been mind-blowing. But to leave the stadium for the last time on such an anticlimactic note… this should have been huge. This should have been the night you pull out all the stops and bring down house without the damn wrecking ball! And you end with a love song? Yeah, okay, a love song about Jersey girls, but… really? Who ends with a ballad?

No huge encore of "Born to Run?" Nothing extraordinary? I mean, hey, if this was a regular show I'd still be surprised, but ok with it, but this night… of all nights, this should have been the big one. And it just wasn't.

The rest of the night falling apart wasn't your fault. The brawl with the angry fans and security, the swarm of state troopers, the descending K-9 unit, the delayed trains and waiting in the pouring rain… that just pulled the night into a major tailspin.

All the people in the world, you should have known what that night mean to everyone there, and how special it could have been.

I'm sorry it just didn't happen.

Love,

One of your most (disgruntled) faithful fans

Note to Self… Don’t Do This

So as a (not so) soon to be bride, I have been slogging through countless posting on The Knot, reading over millions of their articles, and scouring over (literally) thousands of reception décor photos and flowers. I know what I want, in theory anyway. I want something special, classic nad entirely personal. And it has to "have a playlist that just won't quit" (thanks, mom). My wedding is about 2.5 years away, and I still have nightmares about missing cakes, wiliting flowers and evil bridesmaids. Yes, there are in fact more important things for me to focus on, but planning something so special for Super Boy's and my family is a rush. It's a high. It's buttercream-pink-orchid-and-tulle-crack.

I'm planner, so starting now is not just fun, but preventing be from having a coronary two weeks before. But, alas, there are some things you simply cannot plan for, things so bizzare you can't possible comprehend them. Things like your Dad climbing under your wedding dress, having to use a port-a-potty before the ceremony, or having the urge to do a keg stand in a $2,000 dress. For all these things, there is The Wedinator.

I have no idea how I stumbled across this, but stumbled I did, and now I can't get these images out of my mind. I think they might be burned onto my retinas. Then again… at least I know exactly what NOT to do at my wedding. Enjoy!

http://wedinator.com/

Here comes the bitch…

So Super Boy and I spent last night at a family wedding; my cousin (who is practically a brother, really) married a very, very sweet girl in an outdoor ceremony followed by an incredibly fun reception. The music was phenomenal, the food was to die for, and all of my family turned out for the party. It was a wonderful night celebrating two wonderful people.

Not everyone at the wedding, however, was well behaved.
I have not spoken very much about my immediate family yet, but I have two sisters, both younger. We are all 2 ½ years apart, and while my youngest sister, Weasel, and I get along usual, the middle sister Lady Diva and I do not. Diva is evil. Yes, I know, all sisters fight, but this goes beyond that. Diva has lied to my parents about me to cause trouble, spread rumors about me, and once even tried to punch me in the face in the middle of a church. On Easter Sunday. We have hated each other from birth, and honestly, things aren't likely to change (more on our complicated relationship to come).
Now Lady Diva and her long time boyfriend, the obnoxious Gavone (again, a story for another time), were at the wedding of course. Now typically these two split off and do their own things at family gatherings, but since it was a wedding I was forced to endure their company most of the evening. To make matters worse, Diva didn't appreciate being out of the limelight. Not wanting to be merely a spectator at this event, she pulled a major coupé right under our parents' noses and tried to upstage the bride.
Yes. Lady Diva threw a fit in the middle of the wedding. First, she bought a white dress. True, it has a green sash and delicate flower pattern on it, but the rest was white as snow. And, to add insult to injury, Diva had a tiara perches atop her updo. A golden, sparkly tiara of all things. If her appearance wasn't enough, she actually walked out of the ceremony just as the bride was coming down the aisle, complaining of feeling "really quite faint." It was a hot day, but nearly hot enough to disrupt the wedding for a fainting spell.
Luckily, I don't think the bride noticed; it was her special day, and it makes me fume to think of Lady Diva and her petty tantrums. But you have to wonder what this kind of behavior says about my family and about wedding etiquette today in general. Wearing white to a wedding is still considered a faux pas, and rightly so. But many other behaviors, such as bringing a guest uninvited or wearing electric pink mini dresses, are becoming if not accepted then certainly less frowned upon. Personally, I think Emily Post had the right idea. A wedding is a special celebration centering on two people; their guests have no right to draw away that focus. When in doubt, it is best to err on the side of tradition and opt not to wear the gold sequins.
As for my family, it hints at the tensions and dysfunction underneath the surface. For my parents to let Diva's behavior go without comment is disappointing. At 20 years old, you'd think they put a little more pressure on her to grow up and act like a decent human being. Even Weasel, who has an admitted flair for drama and is the baby of the family, acted with more maturity and grace. If this is how my family acts at the happiest of occasions, it makes you wonder what the bad times look like.
And just think, I get to be in the center of all this madness in a few years.
Dum dum da dum…

The return of the prodigal grad student…

Yes, I know it is June. No, I haven't had time to blog. So let's pretend I didn't flake out for three months and move right along.

Anyway, now that a grad school has been chosen, an apartment leased and a dorm room lined up, all I have left to do is pack. However, that is much more complicated than originally anticipated. Firstly, I am moving out of my family home (at least partially) and into two, yes two, different places. The first is the apartment Super Boy (now Super Fiancé) and I will be sharing. The second is yet another dorm room. This is an unfortunate necessity considering the apartment is a good two hours from where I'll be going to school so… two "homes" it is.

But how do you divide your life into equal pieces? I still have a place to crash in my parents' home, so I have to leave some stuff there. And I will be teaching while going to school so all of my work clothes are getting shipped there. And everything else is getting loaded into a truck and hauled over to the apartment. Logically it all makes sense. But really, how do you live in so many places at once? It feels like I am pulled in three directions and once and I really don't have a place to call "home."

Do I have a roof over my head? A place to sleep? A place to work and study? Yes, and I am deeply, wholeheartedly thankful to have so many places to stay if need be. But I don't have that once place, that one spot on earth that is mine. I don't have that niche where I am utterly, entirely comfortable with my surroundings and myself. I don't have a real "home."

But there's nothing I can do about that. I will just have to put up with this awful feeling of displacement until I get a real home to call my own. Until then there is nothing I can do.

I am, in some sense, homeless.