Another Christmas in the Trenches

2014 has come, and is going out just as quickly as it came. It's about time for all of social media to blowup with individuals posting and hashtagging their New Year resolutions for a promise and hope of being better people, better societies, and a better world. 2014 challenged my beliefs, taught me new lessons, gave me love, and closed a chapter with a close friend. As people start flocking to social media to over-share their possesion blessing and God-given grace from being harmed during the year, I find that my strength and beauty has come through being in the trenches.

I'm celebrating my 31st Christmas tomorrow. Since graduating grad school I've had to work multiple jobs to keep up with my bills and overbearing student loan payments. 2013 and 2014 have been hard years as I graduated into the adult world from having been in college for ten years. I felt confident that my degrees would give me multiple opportunities to begin a successful career and start a family. Maybe that was true in 1980, but in 2014 it seems that just having a job is lucky enough. I spent the last year in sorrow with tear stained cheeks wondering why my expensive degree hadn't returned a higher paying job allowing me to fulfill my own desires at having better branded makeup, clothes, and vacations. In the midst of that sorrow, my heart fell heavy each day I graced the threshold of the greedy corporation I worked for where I spent the past three years of my life watching employee benefits slowly start to dissipate. All for what? 40 hours a week spent working to buy more and only satisfy the loan lords. Sometimes spending time with friends was a struggle and I would spend my last $20 just to have a happy hour after work.

Here at the end of 2014, working yet another Christmas Eve, I realize it's my fault. I chastise others for over consuming and bragging on facebook just to entice jealousy and superiority, but that's me too. I'm that person. It is often said that those with the least amount of stuff are those who are happiest and most willing to help others. I think about all the "things" I have in my apartment, and I don't even come to conclusions that I am luckier than most because I don't think the stuff makes me better, or more superior. Maybe it makes me worse. This past year I worked three jobs just so I could pay my bills and have the stuff. When I got the stuff it was good for a moment and then the joy escaped. I was still left empty and with little to no time spent with family and friends. I would cling to the money in my account, and watch every dollar drift out of my checking account so that I could maximize my odds at buying more and having more. It wasn't even about enjoying the stuff anymore--I found myself fantasizing about how others would react when I posted photos of my new things on Instagram and Facebook. Why would I care what all my followers thought about purchases I had made in my own private life? Affirmation. We all want it--nay crave it. In the good ole' days affirmation came from face-to-face interactions, but now we get it from a fabricated source--a place where we can, and do all go to post the best parts of our lives.

Our culture tells us that those who have, work hard, and those who work hard, have. In fact, everything we are as Americans is centered around working to consume. I think deep down, everyone wants more than that. I want more than that.  

Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner.

Today I was speaking with a girl I used to know about a proposed Federal mandate that will remove fast food options from public schools--even those offered in fundraisers. The girl I was speaking with passionately disagreed on the principle that the mandate was federal. This girl's stance was that fattening options, such as Chick Fil-A, should not be removed for dining options in public schools--nevermind that 10 year old children, regardless of upbringing are going to 9 times out of 10 choose the greasy chicken sandwich over vegetables, poultry, and milk. After all, children raised in good homes--provided that they are so--can make good, health conscious choices at age 7 right? I mean plenty of seven year old kids know all about GMO's, corn syrup, and cholesterol right? 

The main driving point of her argument was that the sales of these fast food options provide funding for resource children to participate in field trips that would otherwise be impossible due to budget cuts. Sure enough the article discussing the mandate mentioned the loss of revenue derived from the sale of the sandwiches in schools. My first thought, while not inherently "liberal" as I later learned it was, was that it seemed disgusting to me that the government, albeit at the state level is exploiting the innocence of children in order to drive the sale of fattening sandwiches in so as to raise revenue for a program that should already be receiving government funding anyways. Has our nation lost such focus and intelligence that we would allow, under the banner of "freedom" our children the rights to eat fattening food at school so that a program doesn't loose funding? I can think of many great programs that have lost funding, in fact, in some states in our own perfect Utopia, America, who have fully cut programs like art, music, and drama because of lost money. Should we bring in McDonalds, Pizza Hut, and Chick-Fil-A to drive revenue from bratty children who grow up in a society where No is not a word so that we can bring these programs back to our schools? 

If you ask me we have too much freedom. As many know, I taught in an urban high school here in Charleston, and this school had more food options than necessary. Students could purchase anything from personal sized pizzas, large cookies, slushies, ice cream, and even Chick-Fil-A sandwiches. During my cafeteria duty days--the days where you stand post with other teachers by the cafeteria openings and pray to God students three times your size don't get in a fight--I would watch students flood through lines and pile up trays with massive quantities of food and then if there was enough time left to create boredom, would throw the food on the ground, or at each other. It was quite possibly the grossest display of waste and disrespect I've witnessed in my life. Yes, even the children who come from seemingly good homes would participate. 

What are we really teaching our kids by providing them the freedom to eat fast food whenever they want? Are we neglecting healthy lifestyles? Sure, absolutely. I firmly believe that small children aren't old enough to make fully wise decisions on their own, and neither are teenagers. Yes, allowing children some freedoms to make choices, and even mistakes is wise but enforced healthy patterns perpetuates healthy habits and healthy lifestyles. But more than ensuring healthy lifestyles for our children, we are teaching them that they can't have everything they want when they want it. Our generation of society is so used to having unneeded commodities and extras in life, that when there is talk of removing that unnecessary item, we get completely frazzled. Schools don't have to feed our children--but they do, and they certainly don't have to feed them Chick Fil-A. For those wanting more money for special programs, get out there and try on that American Dream for size and start a fundraiser. After all, that is totally within your rights to do so. 

The Educated Investment

Whether we fully recognize it or not, our very existence, as Americans, is defined by our ability to achieve success--to come from nothing and achieve greatness--rags to riches--the American Dream. As children our parents, teachers, and mentors told us to get educated, to go to college, to change the world, and to be who we wanted to be. This is the generation--my generation--that tried. Some of us succeeded. Most of us have come out of it with a truckload of educational debt.

I will say it as many times as I need to, and shout it from the mountains, and across the lands that I never went to college to come out making it rich. I never thought that was necessary. I really and truly just wanted to help others--to teach them the power of education, because as cliche as it sounds, it's truth. So I went--I went for ten years. I worked hard--damn hard--and I came out of it with a Master's degree...and no job. 

Sure, I have a job, and I love that job but educational debt is crippling. Any debt is crippling, but as some may know, and most that don't, educational debt is unlike any other debt. While Fedloan would like you to believe that they make it accessible and even nearly easy for you to work out repayment plans and even options for complete debt expungement, they fail to mention their list of borderline illegal tactics in retrieving their money back for your highly over priced and under valued college education. 

Now, I'm not a financial officer, or an economist, but I do know a little bit about the free market, capitalist economy that our nation is based on. In any good free market, a business is ran by its competitor thus, keeping prices down. Sure, I guess you could say that there is educational competition here in the states, and even abroad.  Choice is available between attending a for-profit private institution, or a non-profit public institution. Breaking it down even further, there are a multitude of options in the institution index for private and public colleges and universities. In the good ole' days an education wasn't the price of a mortgage...While still being majorly funded by our tax dollars, the cost of an education was so attainable that parents were able to sacrifice enough to pay the bill. Yes, people still got student loans, and yes there was still student debt, but the cost was manageable. 

Our own government has increasingly removed its funding hand from educational costs, and has set itself up as a financial lender for continued learning. The average cost of a four-year degree in an in-state institution is an average of around $40k, while the for-profit, private average is around $80k--reflecting a 439% increase since 1982 and only a 149% increase in income . For the free market system to truly work there has to be more than one competitor so as to keep the cost of the product down. When it comes to the educational standards that are offered--there is one choice--when it comes to the cost, and how you are going to pay for those costs--there is one choice. The government owns the financial services that provide the so-called low interest loans that so graciously allow students to attend college, and when those funds aren't enough, don't worry--you can head straight over to corporate scum lenders like Sallie Mae, who are essentially puppeteered by none other, than our own American government. 

With the government running a monopoly all over educational funding, there has been no way to control costs and thus our government has run amuck hiking tuition costs despite the lack of income and benefit increases. In fact, the consensus seems to be that these hefty tuition investments, and remember, the price of the product has gone up, and when prices go up, quality goes up (right?) more times than not, receive no real staggering return. In fact, the more money you make, the more money the Fedloan sharks will take, even pressing towards the extremes of garnishing your wages and keeping your tax refunds--with no other loan is this legal. 

All investments are risky, and all investments require you to have something, to get something. But there is always an out--our very own government is designed to provide reprieve from extreme financial burden so as to avoid crippling European-esque debt collection tactics--tactics that would take physical prisoners and prevent individuals from persuing mobility. I can go out today and upon proving a successful business plan, I can receive a government loan to start a business. Any loan is a risk--there are two ways the investment can go--either the business will be successful, and my investment will grow, or the business will fail, and my investment will be lost. By our own, American written laws, individuals are allowed to file for bankruptcy in order to alleviate burdensome debt. Yes, there are consequences to filing bankruptcy, but after a period of time the results of bankruptcy are vanquished and essentially, that bad investment is wiped clean. 

Unlike any other debt, student loans are barred from being filed for bankruptcy on. If your $60k investment in learning and career advancement fails to return, which many do, the ability to file for bankruptcy is unavailable. In fact, as previously mentioned, the government lenders can go as far as garnishing wages and government refunds. This sounds like a horror story from an archaic seventeenth century monarchal, feudal society. This is not the America our fore-fathers envisioned when they set in motion the now mythic American Dream. In fact, Thomas Jefferson was constantly reminding the newly forming democracy in America that it needed to ensure the education of everyone. Most famously he has noted that

"No other sure foundation can be devised, for the preservation of freedom and happiness...Preach, my dear Sir, a crusade against ignorance; establish and improve the law for educating the common people. Let our countrymen know that the people alone can protect us against these evils [tyranny, oppression, etc.] and that the tax which will be paid for this purpose is not more than the thousandth part of what will be paid to kings, priests and nobles who will rise up among us if we leave the people in ignorance" (Thomas Jefferson).

See, Thomas Jefferson knew what we have all been taught by those that have come before us--education is freedom--education is power--and education is democracy. Jefferson didn't just believe in the education of the elite, he believed in the education of the common man--the common man is the person who works in Walmart, it's the person you get your coffee from at Starbucks, it's the person who grows your vegetables, and it's the person who protects your families. Now the very thing [education] that we have been made to believe keeps us from poverty, has been the very beast to place us in stagnant and even crippling financial circumstances. 

Problems this big don't have easy solutions, but I know that if you hold any kind of degree, you also hold some kind of student debt--and as long as we keep letting them, the government will continue to run its monopoly over education and it's funding, because don't forget--the government is getting a return on its investment in you--look around you and decide if you like where your money is going and start standing up to the continual increase in educational costs, the lack of movement in wages, and the negative ROI in your degree.  

Women are from Venus, Men are From Mars, but We are All in Outerspace

I'm not sure why, but Gift Certificate day at work ignites my inspiration to write about the things I see and read. I was taking a short break away from this daunting task by scrolling through my Facebook feed when I came across an article entitled: "Why Good Guys Need to Expect More from Modern Women" (Go here to read said article: http://elitedaily.com/dating/gentlemen/why-good-guys-need-to-expect-more-from-modern-women/ ). The picture attached to the article shows some modelesque 22 year old boy with a chiseled and sculpted body frame, serenading an equally young and chiseled blond girl. The first thing I'm thinking is that this image immediately underscores the message that good looking men, woo good looking women and everyone ends up happily ever after. However, the thesis of this New York man's article is summed up in his assumption that "too many good men are settling for lesser women." Not at all what the image attached portrays.

I'm fairly appalled by this article for several reasons, but mainly at the fact that the message the author, ne comedian, Joe Welkie is presenting is completely one sided. Welkie asserts that "girls place themselves on a very high pedestal" and sit back with no effort and wait for the men to, as Welkie puts it, "impress these girls and [do] whatever they want [by] catering to their needs." I get what Welkie is trying to do--he's trying to deconstruct our social construct surrounding gender mating rules. However, what he really accomplishes is sounding like a pretentious asshole. There is merit to his arguments, but it's not just women who "let flame[s] die...because [they] know other guys are waiting in line for their chance." This idea is not a one-sided gender issue--it's a cultural issue.

We definitely live in the "it's all about me, selfie, entitlement culture," so to presume that any individual, male or female is apathetically inclined to put effort into anything, especially a relationship should not come across as at all shocking. What is shocking is that Welkie seems to think that women are the only ones who play the game of making a member of the opposite sex work for their attention because they are selfishly inclined to believe that suitors are lined up down the street just vying for a chance to take them on date. Men do it too--and it's not a gender issue--it's a superficial better-than-you-I deserve the best-will take no flaws-Hollywood has made me believe in fairy tales--cultural mating dilemma.

I live in Charleston, South Carolina--voted one of the top ten places for beautiful people in the United States, and a male to female ratio of 1:5. When it comes to finding a potential mate, the options are endless for aesthetically pleasing individuals. Remember, we live in the culture where I am more important than you--I am prettier than you--and when you exist in that culture, everyone--male and female--are looking for the chiseled, flawless individual to drag along as a comodified piece of arm candy. Welkie mourns that he "doesn't even know what league he is in anymore" and that he has been "brainwashed by women to think that [he's] still not good enough." What Welkie clearly does not understand is that it is not women, or even men for that matter that has made him feel like he is not pitching in the right league anymore, or that he has been brainwashed by Sirenical type women.

This issue that Welkie brings up is real for all of us. Male or female, no one feels good enough anymore because we are constantly trying to craft ourselves to be better than others. Yes, media does feed into that idea whether it's through Facebook, Twitter, or superficial apps like Tinder. The most important thing that Welkie, and people who believe like him fail to recognize is that we are all flawed individuals. Finding "the one" is hard, but it is also predicated on the fact that we universally recognize that my life is not about me, and that yes, I am flawed, but so is that other person who I am trying to get to know. It's not about chiseled abs, large bank accounts, and blond curly hair that falls below your shoulders--it's about a flawed person, meeting another flawed person somewhere in the middle.

No, No, No--Not Noah

The past few days my Facebook feed has been bombarded by people plunging into icy cold water, posting photos of themselves without makeup, and now complaining about how unbiblical the new Noah film is. Our society is overtly self-centered and everyone has an opinion on something (myself included--I do realize) but how are any of these things providing positive contributions to society? Ok--the polar plunge--as annoying as the videos are, at least is being used as a means to raise monetary funds to support a specific cause. But the Noah bashers--why? 

First off let me say this--I am Christian. I am well versed on the Bible. And I do follow Biblical principle.  That being said--when was the last time any of you went to see a film based on a book and the film turned out to be exactly like the book? Never. How many of you still go to those movies knowing that the movie will be different and that Hollywood is capitalizing on your enjoyment of entertainment? Further more, since when do we care more about hollywood's selfish capitalization off of entertainment, more than we do on drug companies capitalizing off of the sick? 

Ok, so we've got the Noah film, which according to most of what I've read doesn't follow along with the Biblical text, and even worse--wait for it--shows Noah and company wearing stitched clothing that of course would not have been available during the time of Noah. These so-called critiques are so  adamant on the evil nature of the film that they even cast judgment on the representation of Noah as being suicidal--of course this makes Noah most un-Godly. Like any text, the Bible is a subjective piece of art (even if we believe it to be divinely inspired) that is up for interpretation. 

With that being said, have you ever stopped to think about how Noah might have felt when God came down and told him to kill off the entire population of mankind? Furthermore, how might it have felt to be stuck on a rocky wooden boat full of smelly animals without sight or hope of land? I would rather think, that like any normal human being, and believe it or not, Noah was one--would have felt imense human fear and possible thoughts of suicide. 

Some of these Noah critiques claim that the film mythicizes the Flood story--I hate to inform, but Noah has already been mythicized. As a child growing up in a conservative church environment, we were taught all the Bible stories and saw each character as his or her own hero. All these characters were strong and overcame their weaknesses, but it was rarely emphasized upon that these characters were humans. They were not perfect. They were not always Saintly. Stories like the Flood, Samson and Delilah, Moses, and Abraham's test all fail to emphasize the full depth of the struggle the characters underwent fulfilling God's commands. As humans, I'm sure depression, thoughts of suicide, and even extreme anxiety were emotions that these individuals underwent. There ability to emotion is what makes them human, and even capable of fulfilling the Creator's tasks. 

 Why is it wrong for an artist to take a story and paint a real picture of what a real human would have felt upon God's demand to kill off all humankind? After all, haven't we mythicized Noah, Moses, and Abraham enough? Haven't we Sainted them over and over again as perfect followers, when they were no better than any of us?  We are all flawed people. Our own judgment of a human made film only serves to underscore the intensity of flaws that we all cary with us. 

Tinder Moments

I recently went out of town with a good friend of mine, and upon becoming bored with our own company, we decided to seek out friendship an instantaneous way. Where does one go when in search of an immediate friendship? Why online of course!  Another friend of mine had been playing around with, and trying to get me to download this phone app where you can meet guys--I know there are a lot of them out there, and quite honestly, I've avoided such endeavors and applications because I just think it's weird and uncertain. Also, it should be no surprise to anyone that I'm not really looking for a serious relationship right now. Sure, maybe I should be now that I've hit the big 3-0, but oddly enough, the older I get, the more comfortable and satisfied I become with my spontaneous freedom.

So, because of this self-entitled freedom, we both decided to download an app called "Tinder." I'm probably like the old grandma right now whose mind has been blown by seemingly self-discovering this new world of technological interaction, and it need not be a surprise to anyone that this application is bluntly superficial and perpetuates egotistical ideals of self.

Nevertheless, this app became somewhat of an obsessive game for us both as we sat side by side in a dimly lit bar, speeding through hundreds of men--swiping left for no and right for yes. When a successful right swipe had taken place by both parties, an image would pop up proclaiming "it's a match!" The excitement surrounding the successes--possibly fueled by our beer intake--caused us to look up from our phones and socially interact with one another in astonishment of the process. Before we knew it we had stacked up a nice little list of potential male suitors--suitors that might I add, we never met.

Upon returning to Charleston the fun continued and during times of boredom my friend and I would open Tinder and continue the swipe game. It wasn't long before we had a long list of Charleston suitors--more suitors we didn't intend to meet. After several days of this, my friend finally proclaimed that she had made it to the end of her tinder men matches, and upon looking at the app I realized I had too. Of course with all these people on here, and both of us having gone through the entire lineup of eligible bachelors in the Charleston area, we were sure to have some of the same matches.

I wanted to do some social research--pure, raw, social research. Driving home from my night class, I called up my friend and invited her over to my apartment for wine and cheese and a little game. I rushed home, uncorked my biggest and finest selection of Trader Joe's Cabernet Sauvignon and plugged in my iPhone--it was going to need to be at full power for the evening's events.

Around 8 that evening, my friend showed up and we immediately started partaking in the wine and talking about life, work, money--all boring stuff--but then the topic turned to relationship issues. Ok, this is where I wanted to go. I went in my bedroom and unplugged my phone, which fortunately was showing a 90% battery life, and opened my Tinder app.

"You know Iz, I have to wonder--we've both been playing on this app for over a week now, and I'm sure we have to have some similar matches. I think we should play a little Go Tinder Fish."

With both apps open, and the red wine flowing, I started to go through the list of men that I had messaged.

 "Do you have any Brads? No? No, Brads? mmmmmk. Do you have any Johns? Yes! a match!"

The rules and interactions of the game had quickly changed, and Iz and I were now making matches of our matches. In a world where we are all so busy, yet so unbusy, our social interactions have quickly turned technological, and I was curious to know if these interactions had erased personability and if desires to know and understand others was based on mutual interest, or pure, raw, and shallow image alone. We started going through the messages.

"OMG--John matched you too? Have you messaged him? What did he say?"

Iz--"He wanted to meet me tonight at Red Drum!"

"No! Shut the front door. He asked me that too! Wait, don't you have a picture on your Tinder with both of us in it? "

It's certainly not surprising that someone was talking to the same person at once, or even that the individual didn't recognize that the two people he was talking to were friends. Vintage dating protocol would have been void of any type of social media, and would have occurred purely through chance occurrences and spontaneous phone interactions. With our ever increasing technological capabilities we now have the ability to essentially meet anyone at anytime regardless of whether or not we would ever come across them in our daily interactions. With facebook and twitter we know who they are talking to, where they hang out, and even what they are thinking without ever having to talk to them. And with Tinder, we can even tell how many fish someone has on their line at the pond.

I'm not saying Tinder is bad, but maybe for me it's a bit much. I'd like to think that there is something more magical at work in our lives when it comes to the friends we make, and the romantic relationships we partake in. There is more mystery and excitement in spontaneously combusting with someone you met at a friend's party than there is to swiping right to someone on a dating app. So, I guess the only tinder moments in my life for now are the ones created with my friends over a too large bottle of Trader Joe's red wine, a tray of proscuitto and mozerella bruchetta, and a good ole' fashion game of Go Fish.

I won't be Home For Christmas, but.....

To no doing of my own, I will be spending Christmas on the solo in Charleston this year. I haven't really felt the Christmas spirit this year--see my previous blog here, but today I came across a little gem that, through the months of November and December became my religion. I think anyone who grew up from the 60's through the 90's can attest. Behold, the Sears Wish Book:

 Long before the Internet, facebook, and emailing Santa Clause, the Wish Book provided kids across the nation with the ability to circle gift favorites with big chunky crayons, and fold down page corners so that no parent was left unsure of what to get their kids for Christmas. The arrival of this book to my Grandparent's house marked the start of the season, and since I spent most of my afternoons after preschool, or regular school at my grandparent's house, flipping through the Wish Book, and the lesser J.C. Penney Christmas catalog was a completely legitimate, and exciting way to pass the time until my mom came to retrieve me. The only semblance of Christmas spirit I have found this season, has been my own flashback to my childhood as I remember all the cool gifts I got for Christmas. So in no particular order, I give you, my all time favorite Christmas gifts from days past--and yes, I'm sure I saw them first in the Wish Book.

1. Teddy Ruxpin: The first Christmas I remember celebrating was crazy awesome, and there were a lot of cool gifts present. One of my favorites this year was Teddy Ruxpin. The cool thing about Teddy Ruxpin, was that he could be hooked to pal Grubby--who my mom will always remember me lamenting not coming with Teddy. Apparently Teddy cost about $70, even way-back-when in the 80's, so I'm thankful I had him. By the way, my Teddy had a super trendy clothing line. Duh.




2. Firefly My Little Pony: That same Christmas--like I said, it was pure, unadulterated magic--pure--I noticed, first thing my favorite My Little Pony in a large stuffed form. I've always been whimsical, magical, and imaginary so of course the winged Pegasus, Firefly My Little Pony was my favorite.




3. Snoopy Plush: Somewhere between 4 and Kindergarten, I had a slight obsession with Snoopy. I realllllly wanted a plush snoopy, I mean really, really wanted one. Thank goodness Santa is in the business of providing miracles, and thank goodness my parents were able to find one after scouring all of Atlanta Georgia. I don't know where my original Snoopy is, and by the way, he too had a pretty kicking wardrobe thanks to my Granny, but my good ole' Pop still remembers my love for the Snoopy and I have two Snoopy plushes now.

4. Lavender Purple Unicorn Bike: Woah! Obviously, I had an obsession with all things magical, purple, whimsical, etc...etc...it only makes sense that this bike made it into my living room the Christmas
morning of my Kindergarten year.
Sadly, there are no pictures on the
Internet of this little charm.


5. Lil Miss Makeup Doll: So yeah, this doll looks like a little baby
 prostitute for reals--but, nothing brought me greater joy than taking
 the little makeup sponge and dipping it in water to wipe this doll's
 makeup on and off.





6. Three Story A-Frame Barbie Dream House: Was tha shit! I mean, way to live that American Dream Barbie--way to live it! This house could do so many things, and because it was in three pieces you could create multiple dream style homes for Barbie and friends.

7. Aladdin Bean Bag Chairs: Yeah--there were two. As it would happen, I got a brother along the way so those four years of baller Christmases where I got all the gifts were days gone by. Not to be sad though, because me and the brother got these bad boy bean bag chairs. As we got older, they became mechanisms with which to slide down the carpeted stairs on. Those chairs disappeared shortly after that trend.







8. Super NES: This has to be on most everyone's top most awesome Christmas gifts list. We had the NES and had just about killed our trigger fingers trying to kill that stupid Duck on Duck Hunt, when Santa did it again. He brought out the SNES and lots of games to go with it. And friends, this gift just keeps on giving, right on into the 21st Century. After years of bonding over Donkey Kong, and The Lion King, My brother and I finally beat the games in 2008. Much thanks to modern technologies like youtube that helped us defeat super difficult levels that no child should ever be expected to defeat on their own.

9. Mall Madness: The best board game EVER created. There's a sale at. the. sun. glasses. shop. It tried really hard to teach me about commodities and the dangerous of over spending--Bank Closed, and Sorry! Try again Later! were classic responses from the game's banking system.


10. Oh Jenny Dreamworld Play set: I'm not even sure kid's still play with doll houses or anything of the like with the modern advent of the Internet and games like the Sims, but I loved this little mini family set made by Matchbox. Placing this house and its components on the stone hearth we had in our house created extra magic.








11. NKOTB, AKA, New Kids on the Block stuff: You definitely had the right stuff if you were sporting anything NKOTB. One Christmas, I got a T-Shirt, a Cassette tape, annnnnd two NKOTB dolls. Whaaaaat.

This is Real Life, and This...is Real Christmas

I used to love Christmas time. The holiday season would start as my family woke up to Macy's Christmas parade, and the smell of turky in the oven. The family would gather around a huge southern meal and then press repeat as we trotted over to my Granny and Paw's house to enjoy another gorge fest. Then, shortly after, and in some rare occasions, on the same day, I would celebrate my birthday by shaking and tearing off pieces of wrapping paper from birthday presents that sat under our already decorated Christmas tree. After my birthday, the countdown for Christmas was on, and a good indicater that we were getting close came in a large, brown UPS box from Pensylvania. My brother and I would wage war against our parents and make peace pacts in order that mom and dad would allow us to delve into the large box that contained our Christmas presents and homemade Christmas cookies from our Northern Grandmother and family. Once that brown UPS box was devoured, the days were numbered for when Christmas day would arrive with all it's magic and splendor. Our house was filled with warm smells of cookies, and delicious Christmas treats, the sounds of Christmas carols, and laughter from Christmas movie marathons.

Now, I'm an adult with two real adult jobs and to say that the magic and spirit of Christmas have been stripped from my life is a slight understatement. I have to work two jobs--it's the only way my bills, and more importantly, that nagging student loan get fed. Recently, my job has taken away our holiday days, and has left me unable to go home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. With no days, and an ever shrinking budget, finding the financial means to take an upaid day off from work, plus buy everyone presents has been more than I can handle. People at work talk about going to the mountains for Christmas to open presents, or about attending holiday parties with copious amounts of food and alcohol (the new, adult spirit of Christmas) but I can't find myself being excited about any of it. I miss my magical Christmas with my family, and if I can't have that, then I might as well not have Christmas at all.

Now, at 30, my apartment shows no resemblance of Christmas, and those classic tunes and television shows that I once cherrished are no longer splashed across my television screen for weeks before the big day. Instead, I've come to realize how possible it is for people to truly disregard the season. There are pressures to go home--going home, when you can't afford it, there are pressures to buy people nice gifts and reflect your success when you hang out with family you haven't seen all year, and then even the stress of facing those in your family who have long since disregarded you.

Christmas for me was never about the material, it was about my family, the festivities, and the magic. It's been 13 years since that brown cardboard box come from Pensylvania, but this is the first year that the magic is gone for me.

It's All Excess in Capitalism and the American Fair

 

It's been a good five years or so since I've graced the muddy, littered grounds of an American Fair. It's no surprise that such an event has long positioned itself as a great American Tradition because as soon as you walk through the gate you are fully immersed in the tantalizing scents of barbecue, smoked turkey legs, funnel cakes, and endless fried candy concoctions. The bright, sparkling, and colorful lights of the carnival rides mesmerize and send people of all ages into hypnotic trances as they slowly, and zombiely walk around the grounds trying to figure out which piece of entertainment to take in first. And it truly is all fun and games--until you look around and see what the Fair has become, or better yet--what it represents.

I don't have to write to you about the time of extreme excess that we live in--it should be obvious. But then again, the very things I find to be obvious, really aren't so. Never-the-less, the Fair, in all it's modern glittering goodness, has historically always functioned as a capitalist space where laborers and trade merchants showed up to show off their animals and goods. Today, the fair has transformed into a showcase of excess--and I suppose, to some degree, fairs have always been about excess, but if our medieval ancestors could see us now, I think they would choke on their turkey legs and pursue immediate birth control options in order to prevent the future we have become.

The Fair has, and always will be middle class entertainment--but, to me, it seems that it has become more of a playground for the Plebeian Proletariat being duped by capitalist Bourgeoisie.  I journeyed through two gates--one charging me $8 just to get into this fun fest, and another charging me $20 to participate in the rides. I'm a professional--I work two jobs, and live fairly comfortably, but $28 just to participate in a make-shift amusement park seemed a bit steep. Most important of all--I am single--a rare anomaly at the fair, I soon found out.

I entered a kind of sickening daze as I noticed screaming, sticky, slobbering obese children running amok through the grounds with plates piled high with sugary, greasy, fried desserts while their equally obese parents wobbled closely behind toting gigantic stuffed animals that probably cost them a days worth of wages to win--and need I mention the price it cost these non-birth control practicing parents to take their bratty litters of progeny to the fair for the day?

We are the generation of me, where ride neighbor, and even fellow carny are just exchangeable commodities. People rush around the fair consuming massive amounts of food, and throwing money away on the precept of winning gigantic prizes to impress their friends with and then return to their homes, bills unpaid, and locked into an inescapable poverty. It's a swirling mess of bright colors, muddy grounds, and a dream, an American Dream left dying in the past. But maybe the Fair is all some of us have got.

So...This is 30

Tomorrow, at approximately 10am I will have inhabited this earth for 30 years. Thirty is a milestone to be sure and when people hit milestones they like to look back at all of life's accomplishments and be thankful for the opportunities they've had thus far. I'm not going to be a total emo and say that I'm not thankful for anything in my life because it's simply not true. In fact, I've sucked the marrow of life many times and have relished in opportunity and friendship. But how did I get here? A Bachelor's and an MA later, and tomorrow, on my 30th year of life I'm still working a job that makes me work Thanksgiving. It's not the worst, and I'm being especially cathartic, but on the eve of my birth, I ponder back 10 years and realize that this is not where I wanted to be at 30.

Twenty is a big year--you have an entire decade to make it into somebody, create a family, and maybe--if your lucky--purchase your first home. I always knew I'd get married at a later age, but I fully expected that by the age of thirty I would have at least secured myself into an adult, serious relationship. I more than expected to be in a stable career with at least five years into a secured pension and 401K plan. Yet, here I am. Thirty. I've dreaded it. I have pushed back tears over it as I realize I have no career, no husband, and no 401k, but instead a lot of school debt, and no real promise of ever making into my chosen career.

Another ten years looms in front of me--will things be different in another decade when I sit down in front of a computer to blog the years that brought me to 40? I don't know. Time is fleeting, and I want to be more than I am, but the dreams of family, career success, and economic security scare me so much that I have silently pushed them from my mind and replaced those thoughts with constant forced feelings of appal towards commitment, children, and people who settle into careers.

So thirty is the new twenty you say? I guess I stand on the brink of another set of expectations--another set of hopefulness that will drive the days of the next decade. Tomorrow is always another day, and thirty just another year on this planet of my existance. Maybe thirty will be suprising, maybe in this next set of years I will get to leave the chair behind the computer screen and find real joy and purpose somwhere. And so...this is 30.

Post Grad School Career Blues

Every morning I wake up to, and snooze away a minimum of three alarms for approximately an hour and half. I like to be dreadfully prepared for the impending torture of rolling out of bed at 7am to go to my first job of the day. My first thought is always something like: "what am I really doing with my life, and why in God's name did I get a Master's degree in English." Yup. Every morning starts with this drudgery as I slug through the motions of entering into another mundane day of passing the hours to earn that mediocre pay check that drops straight into my bottomless bucket of lifetime school debt.

So maybe I should start looking for that "real job--" you know, the one that if I'm lucky enough to get contracted in as a full-time regular employee for a minimum of another decade of my life then my student loans will be graciously forgiven by our oh so loving government? Yeah. That's the job I need. There are only so many of them, and with the drastic decline in education jobs and the ever so hefty increase of academic prostitution through adjunct positions, the blood wrenching fight to the death over full-time professorship wages war on the state of sanity and survival of our kind. They might as well put us on a reality show and watch as we put on our dance and song to a room full of lazy, self-entitled students just waiting to rip apart our professor reviews, and lay bid to which of us they think can most likely survive the world of academia.

You've got to keep an open mind if you want to stay in the teaching profession. You're certainly not going to make a lot of money, and to be frank, none of us every really chose this career for the money, but you do have to be willing to make the move if you want to get the job. Keep in mind, with the median salary nationwide at about 40k, the struggle to move, pay for new license, that by the way may require yet more testing, and lose state funded retirement, the options from the start are largely against you. But it's not just budget cuts and an unwillingness for employers to pay for health insurance that's going to make it hard to find that nice ailing job that promises to one day forgive your student debt--it's Affirmative Action--AKA Unequal Opportunity Employment.

I've broadened my search for a job in teaching, academia, and university/college life to a sprawling nationwide endeavor. I'll move--I get it. I may need to spread my little Charleston wings and fly to new parts in order to get one of these coveted positions. As with finding any job, finding a teaching job--not even the perfect teaching job anymore--is entirely strenuous and lengthy. But a new set of questions have plagued my process.

Am I a minority?--"hmmmm, let me think. Does that 1/32nd Cherokee blood count here? If I check yes, will someone come after me and card me?"

Did you grow up in a low socio-economic environment?--"Well, I was middle class. I was always taken care of and had my needs met, but I never got big extras like a fully paid tuition. So , I guess no. No, I wasn't under privileged."

Were you the first generation of college graduates in your family? "Damn. No. I can't get any of these questions right. How could I have not grown up in poverty?!"

womp. womp. womp. "I'm sorry Ms. Lightner, while you do appear to be a qualified candidate, our institution is trying to increase the number of professional minorities and those coming from a low socio-economic status in order that we might better match the demographics of our school and bridge that ever, nagging achievement gap. We do appreciate your desire and passion to teach urban children and adults, but you're just too white, middle class for us."

I will be the first to proclaim it to anyone that cares, that I love my urban, diverse population of students, and I'm pretty sure they love me too. Teaching is never an easy task, no matter the demographic--but it's something about city school students that makes them vulnerable towards learning--there is a realness in them that I have never found in any other classroom, and I'm pretty sure I'd ask for these students over a class full of rich, self-indulged hipsters any day. Far be it for some educational coorporation to disuade passionate teachers from applying to jobs because they don't meet an asthetic and class restriction.

But as I come home at 8:45 pm from my second job--an arm full of papers and annotated bibliographies, I question whether I will ever get the joy of doing this job full-time. Being there for that crazy urban demographic, despite my incontestable whiteness, is what makes the bottomless bucket of student debt worth it. Yet alas, I'll climb into my bed and fall asleep checking my student's sources to make sure they are fully legit, and I'll get up the next morning, just as all mornings before them and wonder why I got that damn English degree.

Trend Setting Groom Slaves: It's Love in a Beard

I hear and see alot of things in my line of work--most of it I just block out or allow my brain to dispose of. Today, I was privy to a conversation introducing a phenomenon that I wasn't sure existed in our society yet. It's the rise of the Groomzilla. Yes, friends, we know of the not so mythological creature, the Bridezilla, and for some time I suppose the world has anxiously awaited her counterpart. And today, I can tell you he exists. Here's how it went down.

I am sitting at my desk, doing what I do--Gift Certificates--they are a dreadful little piece of my job that I sincerely loath and so when the office becomes loud or chaotic, my mind completely shuts itself off to the task. I was on the verge of having my brain explode across the computer screen in a terribly bloody mess, when I see this highly energetic, youngish male walk into the office. I gathered in point two seconds that he was here to sale a product--my favorite type of individual--the skeezy, swooney kind. Well, he opened his mouth and something like high pitched nails on a chalk-board, and scumminess, with a peppering of southern charm exited his lips. I know this kind. Friends, beware. It's the over-zealous, football watching--never playing, however--bitch beer drinking, out-of-date, metrosexual dressing southern man. I could sense this before he even proceeded to disclose his desire to bring his wife to the resort over Valentines weekend so they could participate in gender specific activites. "Of course women don't love golf, but I do so I can hit some balls on the course while she does girly things at the spa." See what we are dealing with here?

So maybe it will be surprising to you that this particular individual is not, I repeat, is not the Groomzilla in question--however, it would not surprise me if he himself was in fact a pioneer in this new trend. All while buttering up one of the guys at the resort to try and push his product, the metrosalesboy highlights the fact that he has a beard. Why does it matter you ask--why anyone would ask. These southern metros loooove to highlight self-glorifying features, but the beard provided our salesboy with quite another advantageous story telling moment in his product pitch. The beard was forced. It is quite a sad time we exist in when one is forced to grow a beard--especially when said male will have one to two grey hairs sprouting in and he can then self-degradingly proclaim that his entire face is covered in age.

Sigh. I digress--Groomzilla. The beard was apparently part of a forceful and demanding groom, who most likely, under the ultimate power force of Bridezilla, required all the groom slaves to sprout manly facial hair for the big day that no doubt was following pinterest-esque hipster trends. As if it couldn't get any worse, the Groom struck down his newly preemanating manly and husbandly power and demanded the groom slaves don Chuck Taylors with pristinely assigned and tailored, grey, Jos. A Banks suits. The trend has been set. No wedding like it will ever exist again--at least not until Pinterest gets a-hold of the pictures, and every image crafting Bride on the planet begins to re-post pictures of bearded men in grey suits wearing Chuck Taylors. But the Groomzilla--"he's one of those super metrosexual OCD types--he likes everything in order," at least according to the skeezy groom slave.

My eyes rolled to the ceiling, and my head shook and one deep breath later and I was back to writing my gift certificates. Bridezilla's beware: you now have competition, and at least maybe we can finally say that men are showing a concerted interest in their own weddings.

Apocalyptic Paradise

America--the land of the free, home of the brave, and insurmountable debt. It's a great place really--I mean, each year thousands of people risk their own lives to jump the boarders of poverty and enter into the "New Eden" of the world. What exactly are these people searching for? Many search for freedom. Others search for their one big break to make it into something they could have never been before or what in the depths of our past was once known as the American Dream.

The American Dream--it has enticed immigrants to America since her founding--the strong Statue that stands for our Liberty fortifies herself between what lies beyond our site and the strong vision of capitalism and industrialism that lies within the streets of New York City. She lures her immigrants from all lands across the ocean saying "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. The wretched refuse of you teaming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" As surely as she cries and begs for them to come, they do--all of them. The tiredest and poorest of peoples from all lands--Ireland, Italy, Germany, Poland, England...They come. and they seek to rise into greatness just as her majesty, our Freedom Statue stands to proclaim.

Maybe the dream did find itself into the lives of many, for the the early 1900's of American capitalism and industrialization weaved itself into the very heart and fiber of our nation and gave some the opportunity of progression and quality of life that they sought. More than a hundred years later we still seek the American Dream--or what's left of it. Many good people work hard to find monetary, educational, and personal success in life, but are left enslaved to the greedy desire and consumption of our overbearing capitalist state. Many, like myself are forever enchained by educational and medical debt that has forever stunted our ability to progress above our current status.

Perhaps this is why our culture has latched on to apocalyptic obsessions. Sure the idea of an actual Apocalypse of fire and brimstone is scary as Hell--literally--but what about the idea of a society left in the wake of complete economic breakdown or possibly even a zombie outbreak? You may not see it at first--I have to admit, it sounds pretty scary at first--but think about. Just for a moment.

It would be frightening at first as everyone scattered to try and gather supplies for survival. Our entire system of economics and capital that we have entrusted so much of our faith and lives to would be eliminated, thus destroying class structure and monetary struggle. No single individual could claim legal ownership to any item through monetary gains, and we would be left to survive based on our own knowledge and abilities to outsmart the others around us. It would be social Darwinism at it's finest. Maybe you can't outwardly agree with me that an economic or zombie Apocalypse would be "fun" but I think maybe, just maybe, our culture secretly desires the purge of wrongdoing caused by  capital gain that would be ignited by a massive breakdown of our social structure.

Danielle's Top 10 Summer Countdown...

As summer more increasingly begins to come to a close and the fresh cool air of autumn sweeps in to refresh us, I have to take a look back at my top 10 best, summer moments. So please, come with me as I show you how my summer rocked.

So coming in at number....

10. Geting a Master's degree--in English. Summer started with a bang of celebrations and a trot out with the Charleston into my favorite season of the year.

9.  Going on a Cruise with Mom. As if getting an MA wasn't good enough, I got to spend 5 days on the ocean without a cell phone, facebook, or work.

8. Winning an official, Carnival Cruise Lines Medal of Participation: Alright, so I got schooled  by a bunch of teenagers on this one--but come on, we all know that had there been literature and grammar questions, I would have killed it.

7. Getting a Promotion: Got a Job; real style. No more 3AM mornings laying on top of books about Jacobean England divorce, marriage, and sex laws. Shit just got real.

6. Surviving an electrical storm: A casual jaunt to the free, employee luncheon at work turned sinister. Friends--walking together under the protection of a long metal rod with a plastic tarp, pointed at the sky, when suddenly the sky breaks apart in thunder and the gods send down flashes of fire and electrocution, and in slow motion, umbrella's fly, shrieks are projected, and friends get lost in action.

5. Being a Tennis Pro: Many a tennis ball met the face of my brand new, pink tennis racquet on the courts at Wild Dunes. I even won a match.

4. Being Panda-obsessed: The Giant Panda, Lun Lun, who belongs to the Atlanta Zoo, birthed twins in July and my love for the sweet little creatures has caused a pandemonium (ha--pun intended) for my life. I've been glued to the live webcam and the pictures of these little guys.

3. Spending the Fourth of July in a Random Place: ha--haha. In the most random of randomness, my fourth of July was spent lounging by the pool, with my friends Syd Dog, and Haley Boo Boo, a box of wine, lime chips, and an occasional firework. Oh. Did I mention this all went down at a random apartment complex?

2. Hearing Second Hand About the "Valet Service:" Even though I wasn't a first hand witness like some, the pure joy I get from this story causes it to be a member of this list. Picture, slow motion, to the tune of the great eighties classic, Chariots of Fire (need a reference? Click Here) a splendid coach of white sparkle, traveling, at top speeds in backward motion towards our Wild Dunes Heaven-sent mansion. Suddenly, chariot and mansion meet in a combustion of enormity. Knowing the stagecoach makes this story so much more the glorious, but sorry guys--top secret. The driver goes unnamed.

1. Being with my Friends: Nothing makes summer sweeter than spending it with your friends and loved ones, and I've got the best. Some are near, and some are far but my list would be empty without you all!

It's Moving Time--Open All the Doors and Let Me Out into the World.

Everyone hates moving. I am no different, but somewhere in the pain and stress of moving we are able to peel back the layers of our lives and rediscover who we are. People carry their lives with them in brown cardboard boxes, and when we open them up we remember what what we're about.

Today my best friend left Charleston because she got her big break--a real job--a job we went to school to do. At the same time, I find myself moving apartments post grad school. If you've read my blogs or ever talked to me before you will know that grad school is no easy task and that for me to proclaim a desire to continue my education in English, might be absurd.  But today, I crawled way back into the under-stair closet that for the past year has hidden away the "less important" items of my school days.

I struggled as I pulled out heavy boxes full of books, notebooks, and spiral bound journals. My first thought was that the books had to go--there are plenty of good homes I can think of that the books could find happiness in. I yanked back the tape, pulling up some of the brown box with it and I began picking up books. Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte De Aurthur, Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Tolkien criticism, Norton Shakespeare, the list goes on. I picked up each book and smiled as I remembered the knowledge, both historical, and literary that each one contained. I placed all the books back into the box and realized that I can never really give up learning. It's too much of who I am. I crave the pain of trying to figure out a 20 page paper, but also the joy that comes when you know you did a good job and that you connected with the past. I can't give these books up--they need a real home--a bookshelf in a professor's office. These beautiful books can't be pushed aside. 

Of course I am happy in my new job--you can't live life worrying and hating the moment you're in. Our time is just a vapor as each present becomes the past and every future becomes the present. As I cried watching my friend leave today, I remembered each happy moment we had together and was happy to say that I rarely have bad memories--I make good ones. I want to live life like Thoreau and not realize that "when I come to die, discover that I had not lived. I [want to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swatch and shave close, to drive life int a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms." How amazing to suck the marrow of life out of each day--to contribute to the world we have been placed in? As I move, I have to ask myself if I am living deep enough--if I am sucking all the marrow out of life. Or, maybe I am settling into the comfortable routine monotony of life? I don't want my cardboard boxes stuffed into the back of some closet--I want the contents of those boxes poured out everywhere and placed into my everyday life so that I can live the life I was called to live. I want to feed on the marrow of life daily as I create the futures into presents that quickly become the memories of our past.

Surviving Grad School 700

As graduation slowly approaches, I have been asked by many people: "so, what do you plan on doing now that you are graduating?" I think I probably give a spaced-out blank stare and as I try and search for words, my mouth gapes open and nothing comes out because I have noooooo idea what I plan on doing after graduation, other than slowly return to a state sanity. So the question that I think begs a response is, how does one survive grad school? Wellllllll, let me tell you--there are going to be several important arsenals you are going to want to have in your grad school backpack of tricks, and in critical, descending order they are:

                                                      10.A Housemaid

Your house is going to get super messy and super disorganized. There will be no time for cleaning, doing laundry, or putting up your clothes. If you can't afford one of these, then having a mother will suffice--they are great for filling the void in this category.



9. Starbucks Gold Account:

I can't express the importance of this one enough. The power this card holds will see you through your graduate experience. First, you get free refills on all regular coffees and teas--yes, I said free. Second, after fifteen drink purchases you get a FREE drink of your choice, and that does include the ever so fattening frappacino that, trust me, you will enjoy as a treat every once and a while.

                                                 8. Yoga Pants

Guess what guys? Yoga pants aren't just for moms anymore. That's right, yoga pants are great for the suffering grad student as well-- in fact the ever popular spandexy pants help you easily transition from sleep, working out, going to class, and back to sleep again. Highly recommended purchase.







  7. Hulu/Netflix Account

  TV is going to be a rare occasion, and your definitely not going to be able to afford a regular cable service. Therefore, you're going to have to make it with a Netflix and/or Hulu account. It's not too much of a sacrifice because you will still be able to indulge yourself in all the classic brain-numbing, trashy TV you can handle. Trust me, even though you're working on becoming an intellectual, you're going to need some time with Momma June from Honey Boo Boo so that you can continue to remember why you went back to school in the first place.

6. McDonalds 

 This is one of those love hate kinda things, but, trust me, at the end of the day you are going to appreciate some McDonalds. There are several reasons. 1. Cooking, love it or hate it, you will never have time to do this. Whether you're speeding down the highway at 80 trying to make it from work to class, or your dragging yourself home from a thirteen hour day, cooking isn't going to be your friend. 2. The stress that builds up in your body is going to crave the juicy, carbohydrate filled deliciousness of a double cheeseburger from the dollar menu--yes, you're going to have to eat from the dollar menu, which is part of the reason you're going to McDonalds to begin with.



And your Top Five musts are.............................



5. A Nice Bottle of Wine 

Every once and a while you are definitely going to need a nice glass, or bottle (cough, cough) of wine to help you deal. Some professors will piss you off and make you want to quit;  sometimes your job will make you want to give it all up; sometimes you're not going to think you can make all the deadlines people are placing on you. Trust me, the wine will help.





4. Facebook 

 Go ahead and say bye to your friends and family
because it's going to be a loooong time until you get to spend time with them again. Facebook is going to be your number one communication tool because let's face it, you can be a professional multi-tasker and use this one during class--shhhhh.



3. A Comfy Couch 

Don't worry about having a comfortable bed because chances are you will spend many a short night--and I do say short because your average sleep time is going to drop from that good 8 hours you're used to, to about hmmmmm 4 or 5 hours studying on the couch because it's way more comfortable than the desk chair you bought at the beginning of grad school and pretended to use for two weeks because it made you feel studious.


2. A Jasper

  Alright, I'm pretty biased on this one, but in all seriousness, you need a pet. Your pet is going to love you no matter what and when you have to come home and cry and yell and scream because your professors made you feel like a worthless person, or you have to read 1,000 pages of the worst literature you could ever imagine, then your little fluffy furfriend will be there waiting for you with sweet eyes and a loving embrace and suddenly everything will be better.





And so, the number one grad school survival tool is.........

1. Family and Friends

 They're the only ones that will end up being with you when you come out on the other end, but most importantly they're the only ones that will be ok when you call them crying or worried that your not going to make it. 

 

Changing Titles

There is quite a bit of title changing going on in my life, so I figured, why not change the blog title? Seems an appropriate time to do so. So, I guess you're probably wondering, why a semicolon life? What does that even mean? Does it mean anything? Yes, yes it does and here is the lowdown on how you get to a semicolon kinda life.

 You study grammar for a really, really, and I mean  a REALLY long time and you start to see that you have a sort of weird affection for the poor, little misunderstood semicolon. So many people abuse it; they just don't know how to make room for the semicolon in their life. I always ponder why people misuse the little semi because in all honesty, it's the easiest grammatical function out there folks. Mr., or maybe it's a Ms.--let's not discriminate and forget that composition is inherently masculine and maybe, just maybe in our gender equal society of today the semicolon can be a woman--anyways, I digress. Ms. Semicolon only has one real job--all she does is combine two friendly and complete thoughts--how hard can that be? Two forlorn thoughts separated in space; trying to find a way to grammatically connect--That's my life. At least I feel like I'm the semicolon--somewhere out there in this crazy world trying to connect a few completes into one big explosive whole. And then maybe we are all a bit of a semicolon at times; a small, rarely used and many times overlooked, misused, or misunderstood thing, but at the same time a great and powerful entity that when put in the right place has the power of bringing things together.

One Door Closed...

It's taken me a long time to be anywhere near OK to even accept the desire to write this post. I'm going to be cliche for a second; I had a dream--it was a simple dream really--I just wanted to be an English teacher.

It happened really quickly, and I was loaded down with little more than a ten pound American literature book and a roster full of students. I read through all their names and tried to imagine with excitement what each student might be like when I met them on my first day. I spent exhausting, yet exciting hours, flipping through the pages of great literature planning the book knowledge and life lessons I would impart to my students. I wanted this job more than anything. It was what I had worked so hard for in college.

Maybe I was a bit idealistic when I entered the job. I guess like every new teacher I thought I could quietly shut my door and share my love for literature and life with my students. Of course I knew about the bureaucracy in education before I signed up--I wanted to teach the worst of the worst; I wanted the inner-city school because I had a heart for those kids--they were the ones I wanted to save--they were the ones I wanted to reach--they were the ones I thought needed the loving teacher--and I had all the love in the world to give them. This year my door stayed open everyday.

My principal told me I was in the wrong profession--maybe she's right. It's taken me two months to recognize that maybe I did indeed pick the wrong field--or maybe the field no longer fits me. I guess I knew all along that I didn't really agree with the educational hoops--but what teacher does? We enter the profession because we love kids and we want to help them. We never sign away our lives to 12 hour work days and unimaginalbe bureaucratic stress because of the pay or the great benefits--we do it for the kids. But since when has education been about the kids? Furthermore, since when has education really been about educating students?

I've tried to rationalize what, at the end of the day, I actually taught my students. Like any teacher trying to swim against the current of unsupportive  administrators and school systems, I resorted to the dreaded worksheet and audio reading in order to barely survive my classes. I had become the teacher I never wanted to be and it broke my heart. But it made me think--is there room in our educational system for that kind of teacher? Just what do we teach our students? Do we care more about whether or not students can memorize Thoreau's "Civil Disobedience" or that these students learn that they have a voice and a responsibility in their own society? Do I care if they know what a noun is, or do I care that they can write a complete sentence? Furthermore, how does a standardized test help ensure that my babies are ready to enter the big world that awaits them? Do we care more as an educational system that these students walk across a stage in four years with nothing more in their arsenal of knowledge than the information they memorized in order to pass a multiple choice test? Did my kids realize they could think for themselves? Not at all. They wanted to rely on the system that they have relied on for 17 years. It broke my heart.

It's been two months since my last day of teaching and I can honestly say that I have lost hope in the educational system of America. Teachers are hard workers, and we give away our lives to foster young minds and inspire future generations. I don't want pity, nor does any other teacher--what we want is support. Support our own education by giving us the authority to teach our students--support our discipline practices in the classroom--support our desire to teach the students who show up everyday with a pencil in their hand ready to learn--but mostly, support us professionals who have accepted the calling to be a teacher. For now, Ms. Lightner is signing off as high school English teacher.

My Steak-Sized Beef with Tim Tebow

Let me just start by saying that I DO NOT in any way dislike the person-hood of Tim Tebow. With that being said, I should point out that my argument here is more against the treatment of Tim Tebow by the Christian community. Awesome for Tim Tebow that he uses his position to witness for our savior--love it, it's awesome, and all that. Here's my issue: it appears that Tebow has become somewhat of an idol in the eyes of football crazed Christians and has in many ways become an idol for what we as all Christian's should be doing daily. I've seen it in action--people sit around praising Tebow for his prayerful kneeling on the football field but then enter the workforce on Monday morning like they haven't been to church on Sunday.

Now, let me just be clear--I know this is not ALL Christians, but let's be real--how many of you reading this (myself included as author) have received significant persecution and/or credibility for praising Jesus in the work place? Probably not many. All I am trying to argue with my complaint on the Tebow cult is that 1. Tebow is a human being--he has faults like all of us. I admire his boldness for Christ like I would any other Christian doing the same thing--I don't idolize him for his ability to do it in the NFL. 2. Setting up Tebow as an idol forces us to recognize his failure at some point--he will fail--he is human--at this point he will let many down because he is Christian right? Isn't he supposed to be perfect and awesome? 3. If we all spent as much time praising the work of Christ in our own lives as we do talking about and praising Tebow for praising Jesus then maybe we would see significant changes in our surrounding communities and world. What Tebow on the football field is nothing beyond what we have all been commanded to do by going and making "disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son  and of the Holy Spirit" (Matthew 28:18-20).

Now, with all that off my chest, let me just be clear that just because we like Tebow and what he does, it should in no way allow us to use his likability and Christiandom to judge the rest of the NFL cast, or any human being for that matter. As I mentioned earlier, at the end of this day we are all human beings, even Tebow. We can't assume that we know the hearts of everyone and only Christ has been given authority to judge. Again I say--the problem resides in idolizing an imperfect being.

Finally, I will close my beef with the Tebow cult by saying this: It's great to be his fan, and it's great to admire the man for what he does, but let us not forget the author of his, and our strength--our Lord and Savior--he is who we should be proclaiming and praising. We all have stories, and experiences to share and if we all infested our communities like Tebow does the football field then we would see a revival in our debauched world. In conclusion, I will reiterate, I do not hate, dislike, or feel that I have beat up on the Tebow ;)

Domestic Goddess: Danie in the Kitchen

It is indeed a rare day when I find myself cozying up in the kitchen. Today just happened to be one of those days. This morning I stepped out into a crispy coolness that wrapped around my body, and reminded me of my days in Cullowhee. I really want fall. I mean, I don't just want it, I am craving it. Fall here in Charleston just isn't the same as that colorful, orangy, red autumn that paints the mountains over. However, I find myself enjoying the creation of my own little mountain fall in my apartment. Therefore, I blame today's madness on that Mr. Tantalizing Autumn. I know he isn't going to stay around, so I had to make the most of his presence today.

I start off at Michael's...I never go to Michael's. I really wish I had my mom's mad crafting skills, but I don't. I can sew occasionally, and I can take enough pictures to drive even the most narcissistic individual into a seizure, but I can't make bows and I can't construct pretty arrangements out of nothing. For these things, I rely on my mother. Anyways, none of this really matters because I was going to make an attempt, and after all, that's all that really counts...right? To make a long story short, I spent two hours in Michael's trying to piece together a wreath, and figured that I would just put it all back and wait on mother to come do it for me :)  Disappointed that I wasn't going to be able to make a nice fallish wreath, I had to think of something else to illuminate my life with...hmmmmmmm...how about baking? That always completes a cool day. Well you know what that means...

Next stop, the most dreadful and horrible capitalism killer in America, Walmart. I hate Walmart, and all that it stands for, but sometimes you just find that, unfortunately, you have to go there. Alright, this is not a blog about Walmart, so let me get back on track here. I went to this place to get baking goods. What better way to spend a cool, "autumn" day than baking a delicious cake?! I'm not sure I know a better way. My bestest friend in the entire world, Rachel, made a most delicious cake for us way back in the day. I decided I wanted to try my hand at this cake. Queen Anne's Lace Cake--a chocolate lover's dream come true. This decadent lovely features three, thick layers of devil's food chocolate cake, filled with a cream cheese icing and then topped with shavings of milk chocolate. Mmmmmmm. I am salivating just describing it...aren't you? I would say that I would save you a piece, but I really shouldn't make promises I can't keep.

The creation of this cake was something like having a baby. You have an idea in mind, but your just not sure what the final product is going to be. I put a lot of love and passion into this cake, and I have to say that I'm just a little* proud of the results. Like a proud mommy, my beautiful cake stands high on it's luxurious, silver stand for all the world to see and I must confess that I am just a little sore over having to eventually cut it. Every half hour or so, I find myself lurking into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator door to make sure it's still there. Just in case you're wondering, it's still there and my domestic cravings have been fulfilled.

My baby, Queen Anne's Lace