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 It's the over-zealous, football watching--never playing, however--bitch beer drinking, out-of-date, metrosexual dressing southern man.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.