thisisitseriously

A Plea

2008-10-22T15:40:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday, I went to a world hunger seminar here in NYC held by WHY (World Hunger Year) called, "Step Up to the Plate: Ending the World Food Crisis." There were some very intelligent, impressive, and informative speakers that night, people who are presidents of coalitions, directors of unions, authors, fund founders, and more. I took some notes as they spoke to us, mostly statistics I found to be interesting and thoughts I found to be inspiring. I want to share two of these quotes with you.

The first was said by a man named Raj Patel, author of Stuffed and Starved: The Hidden Battle for the World Food System. In talking about the political system in the US, he said that we should not be consumers of democracy, as we are now, but proprietors. I thought this was right on the money, and at such a crucial time in our nation, no matter which party you side with.

The second quote was by Alice Waters, a chef and founder of the Edible Schoolyard in California, and she said, "My activism is the rent I pay to live on this planet." As you can imagine, I found this to be quite profound, and I would like each of you to think about it for a moment, and consider: you pay rent/a mortgage to live in your apt/house. You take care of your belongings and the inside workings of your home and call for professional help when needed. Hopefully, if a neighbor had a problem, you would be willing to help, whether it is giving him a cup of sugar or reporting suspected child abuse. My point is, let this extend beyond the walls of your home. Be a desirable tenant of the planet. Pay your rent, not necessarily with money, though that does help, too, but also with your time, your compassion, your intelligence, and your humanity.

Not the Religious Type

2008-10-16T12:57:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, a man who had come across my blog and read my last post emailed me to ask if I would be willing to review a book he was promoting called, Not the Religious Type: Confessions of a Turncoat Atheist, by Dave Schmelzer.

Intrigued, I agreed, and a week later, the book arrived in the mail at my office. It's slim, with a pale yellow jacket, about 175 pages long. I began reading it immediately, and found the writing style to be conversational and intelligent, with humor and personality evident.

It's the story of Dave, an atheist until college when, in a rough period of life, he finds himself searching for help, answers, a way out, and runs right into God. Quite literally, in fact, by smashing his car into a wooden cross late one night. He begins to explore religion, and not merely Christianity, but Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam, etc. He finds himself opening more and more to the idea of God, and specifically, Jesus, and how he can build a personal relationship with them. Throughout the story, his faith deepens, his convictions grow stronger, his life changes, until we find him currently living outside Boston, the pastor of a church.

But this is not just an autobiography - it's also a book on beliefs, systems, theories. He introduces to us M. Scott Peck's (an "80s pop psychology guru") idea of a "4-stage theory of human spiritual and emotional development" - a theory I related to immensely. According to this theory, people enter and, hopefully, travel through 4 stages during their life: the criminal, the rules-based, the rebellious, and finally, the mystical. I found these descriptions to be very interesting and, based on my experiences, accurate - in fact, I would state that I am currently on the edge of stages 3 and 4 (the rebellious and the mystical, respectively).

He also spends time on the idea of the hero myth and cosmic destinies. People all over the world have often felt they were meant for something more, something great, something out-of-this-world, but rarely do people reach or find this destiny. According to Mr. Schmelzer, this is because most people are far too afraid to accept the missions God has in store for them. It's much easier to continue your studies in London than it is to give up your life to go build an orphanage and churches in Mozambique (which, by the way, friends of the author's did). As he puts it, in the title of a chapter in part 2 of his book, evidently, [our] options are either to be (a) bored or (b) terrified. This part of the book especially touched me because I am a firm believer that just one person (or in this case, two people) can save the world, or at least a part of it. But it takes guts, and faith, to do it.

Overall, I quite enjoyed this book - it's made me re-examine, again, my views on God, on religion; it's brought out in me a desire to learn more, to discuss, even to experiment with my unsure and confused thoughts on God. In short, it's made me think.

The one problem I had with it is that toward the end of the book, I felt like Mr. Schmelzer started to really sell and push for Christianity and Jesus as opposed to simply telling his experience, his thoughts, his feelings, etc. But I can't really blame the guy for that, I suppose. It's what he believes, feels, and lives every day.

All The World's a Hypocrite

2008-09-24T11:55:00.000-07:00

Since I last posted, a couple of things have happened. For one, I tripped up a flight of subway stairs and displaced two tendons and fractured a bone in my right foot/ankle, leading me to wear a space-boot-type of walking cast for the past week, with at least another week to go until we (that is, the doctor) sees how my healing is progressing.

For another, I also turned 31 on Saturday, so happy birthday to me and many more!

Thirdly, a friend of mine who is Iranian by heritage and Muslim by faith began fasting for Ramadan, and this is what really leads me to today's topic: hypocrisy. Or maybe it's not even full on hypocrisy so much as paint-by-number religion.

As we all know, I am not the religious type. I have many issues with standardized, organized religions and many questions about the duality of God and science/nature. But that's neither here nor there. What I really can't stand is the fact that so many people claim to be religious but then pick and choose which parts of their religions they are going to believe in, agree with, practice, and incorporate into their daily lives. And I just believe that if you are going to be a practicing _________ (fill in the blank), then you do it all or nothing. This isn't to say people won't slip, make mistakes, sin, etc., but I just cannot get behind people who specifically ignore an entire section/sections of their religious doctrines.

This friend of mine I mentioned above is a perfect example. He follows some of the more widely known Muslim practices, but glaringly ignores others, one in particular. For instance, he doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, doesn't like animals as pets and, indeed, doesn't seem to like animals at all, and observes the religious holidays, even to the point of fasting for 30 days during Ramadan. But he also sleeps with any girl he can and he seems to have no qualms about this whatsoever, even gloating about his conquests and continuously pointing out whom he'd like to have a go at next. I just do not understand how he can justify this with his religion and it makes all the other abstinations (is that a word?) he follows seem that much more ridiculous and meaningless.

My husband thinks I am too hard on him for this, but I call things as I see them, and I say, "Hypocrite."

(This in no way deems myself to be free of hypocrisy. I believe most people are or have been hypocrites at some point in their lives - it's hard to avoid if you're not perfect, you know.)

Analyze This

2008-09-05T13:19:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a couple of weird dreams, which I did not write down in my dream journal because I abandoned that idea approximately one week into it, so I will relate them to you here. The first one involved me, my husband, and my best friend, JN. We went to see a movie, possibly on its opening night because the theater was packed and we couldn't find three seats together, forcing us to sit separately. Shortly after the movie began, my husband called someone on his cell phone and started to have a full on conversation with this person. Obviously, everyone around my husband was yelling for him to shut up, which he refused to do, and finally, ushers and security guards were sent in to remove him from the theater. I pretended to not know him and stayed for the duration of the film.

My second dream was by far the most unusual of the night. My friend, JJ, whom I have known since elementary school and who is a knitter by trade, had decided in this dream to become a dentist, or maybe a dental hygenist. While making this life-changing declaration, we met George Clooney, who was in the midst of tattooing himself by slamming a big, jagged rock into his skin over and over again. I believe he was tattooing a large, demented, cartoon rabbit on his chest. George and I hit it off and began dating, even though he had this incredibly gross rash, all pimply-like, across his neck, and we decided to help out JJ on her path to dental school by pulling out all his teeth so she could study them. After removing them, they were scattered all over the floor, so I carefully picked up each tooth and put it in a Ziploc bag to give to JJ.

My third dream was very short and unsubstantial and I basically only recall walking around a college campus at nighttime, trying to find my way somewhere, though I wouldn't be able to tell you where, now.

What could it all mean?!

In the Ghetto

2008-07-01T11:53:00.000-07:00

I was talking to my best friend, JN, last night about our neighborhood and we came to this conclusion: living in the ghetto is making us racist.

For the past 7 years, off and on, but mostly on, I have lived in one of two neighborhoods in New York City, and they have both been in the ghetto. I live there for two reasons: 1. lack of funds/too much fiscal common sense to live elsewhere in the city and 2. bigger apartments.

Now, I absolutely hate it when people automatically assume that the ghetto is more dangerous than other parts of the city. Just because a neighborhood is predominantly black does not inherently mean it is more dangerous, and I fight this accusation every time I hear it. I have not once been mugged, robbed, or attacked while living in my chosen ghettos. I have, however, witnessed black people perpetuating on a daily basis the stereotypes that plague them, and it infuriates me.

Many people in America think that all black people are uneducated, cannot speak proper English, wear their clothes in ridiculous ways, have no manners or respect for anyone, are violent, lazy, etc. We all know that this cannot be true for all blacks, just as it is true for some whites, Asians, Hispanics, and so forth. There are bad seeds in every bunch, are there not?

But what really burns me up is seeing those assumptions played out as truth every day by so many members of my community. There is a constant display of ignorance, pride, violence (minor violence, but still), arrogance, disrespect, and more in my neighborhood.

Kids, sometimes very young kids, are out until all hours of the night, screaming down the streets, breaking open fire hydrants, vandalizing buildings and cars, playing music extremely loudly, throwing trash all over the street, and there is not a single parent or guardian in sight. And if there is, on those rare occasions, nothing is done to correct the behavior of those children. There is no consideration for the people who might be sleeping because they have school or work the next day. If the cops are called, everything quiets down until the cops leave, and then it starts right back up. Couples will stand outside apartment windows, again with no thoughts to the possibly sleeping people inside, yelling and swearing out their feelings to one another over every minor indiscretion, including but not limited to, the borrowing of CDs, with whom someone hung out, what one friend told him/her about the other person and how they now busted, and the like.

Don't get me wrong - I am perfectly aware that there are neighborhoods filled with white people who behave exactly the same - I have seen these places on COPS many times. And the thing is, seeing that behavior makes me "racist" against those people, too. Racist against White Trash. (Should I call this classism? I am classist against WT?) However, as I have never lived in one of those WT neighborhoods, but instead have always experienced nothing but law-abiding, respectful, clean, and friendly white neighborhoods, this awful type of behavior is only associated with black people in my head.

I hate that this is happening in my skull, and I know it's not right on any level. But sometimes I just want to scream at every person in my neighborhood that I see acting like this and tell them, "THIS is why other races think all black people are ___________(fill in the blank)! YOU are showing them that this is TRUE and CORRECT!"

But for some reason, I don't think they would care.

Back to Life, Back to Reality, Back from the Fantasy

2008-06-09T15:29:00.000-07:00

I have been in Florida for the past 8 days, sunning myself, eating cake, swimming, visiting friends, drinking tequila, and all around avoiding responsibilities of all kinds. It was wonderful, and for the first time in 7 years, I was not happy to be heading back to NYC.

Part of this is because I don't want to go back to my life of work, cleaning, cooking, walking dogs, etc., and part of this is because my new Brooklyn abode is still pretty much a wreck. I forgot how hard moving is, since I haven't done it in about 6 years, and boy howdy, does it suck. How the hell did I amass so much crap since 2002? I pride myself on not keeping unnecessary junk and knick knacks, but somehow they manage to wriggle into my life, anyway.

With any luck and motivation, my new place will be looking less like a squatter's camp and more like a home by Friday, and I will not have murdered my husband by cracking his skull with the frying pan.

Changes That Make Me Turn and Face the Strange

2008-05-28T12:17:00.000-07:00

The past week has been an emotional and physical roller coaster ride through hell.

There was some serious drama in my life that I hope to never experience again, I was utterly and horribly disappointed by someone I love, I sustained physical injury, I caught thievery in action, I have emotionally indebted myself to two friends in the hopes of remedying something I didn't do and couldn't control but which I nevertheless am taking a brunt of the blame for, and so much more.

My mind and my emotions are exhausted.

Because of everything that has occurred in my life since last Thursday, I have found myself making some changes I wasn't quite prepared for, but I am all too aware that this is how life works. Just when you think you've hit some calm waters, a fucking cyclone comes tearing up behind you, causing you to make immediate decisions in the hopes of saving yourself from the worst of the harm and damage. In the end, once all is said and done, all you can do is sit back and hope that those decisions were the right ones.

One of those decisions is to move to a new apartment. In Brooklyn. I'm excited about this new chapter in my life, though I am still not and never will be pleased at how this change was forced upon me. I will miss my old apartment and neighborhood where I have spent the last 6 years of my life. I met some very significant people while living there and went through some of my most definitive experiences there, and I am a touch sorry to see that era of my life end. The beauty of believing that everything happens for a reason, though, does allow me to feel some tiny measure of excitement about this, and I hope it will be a fresh start for me, my husband, our relationship, and our lives.

In the meantime, until all the logistics are worked out and all the dust settled, I will be a nervous wreck!

A Bit O' This, A Bit O' That

2008-05-22T11:21:00.000-07:00

I've started keeping a dream journal because though I often recall my dreams in the morning, my memory isn't as sharp and clear as it once was (I blame the margaritas), and I'm hoping that writing them down as soon as I get up will help me. Of course, I don't have any form of discipline, so I never take the time in the middle of the night to record what I was just dreaming, and I usually forget to write until close to an hour after I have risen, so some of my descriptions are as muddled as my brain. One that I wrote this morning simply states, " Something about me, my mother, and a park." Fascinating, n'est-ce pas?

Being the book addict I am, I have been taking far too much advantage of the low, low prices on Amazon, buying used books for $1.92 and whatnot. This morning I started Eat, Pray, Love, a book I have heard much about, and though I am only 26 pages in, I can already tell I will love it immensely. As of late, I have been enthralled with Bill Bryson and have read nearly everything he has written. If you haven't read some of his works, I suggest you march right out, or even better, right to your computer, and purchase some of his books. They make me laugh out loud.

Last Sunday, Hubby and I went out with my best friend, JN, and his boyfriend, GC, for brunch and strolling. We came across a stoop sale (the equivalent of a garage sale in places where houses and yards and driveways actually exist) and I ended up buying the aforementioned journal, a beautiful piece that looks like leather but isn't, with a magnetic flap that keeps the whole thing closed and a red ribbon to mark your spot. I also bought an old globe (I'm not sure how old but it still says Burma and Zaire, not Myanmar and Democratic Republic of the Congo), a ceramic cat head that functions as an ashtray (this is going to be a birthday present for JN), and a lovely bag made out of fabric that looks like it should be hanging from the walls in Versailles. (The bag didn't come from the stoop sale; it was bought from a woman selling them on 6th avenue.) We ended up spending something like $100 that day, which is ridiculous but also makes me feel socially responsible for putting money back into the economy. (This is what I tell myself when my buyer's remorse starts kicking in, which it always, unfailingly, does.)

Ever since my husband came into my life I have become a slacker. I don't blame him for this, but I do, however, blame our relationship. For months and months we were 7000 miles apart, in different hemispheres, and with a 6 to 7 hour time difference between us, depending on the time of year. The moment I would wake up, I would call him at his office. The moment I would get to work, I would chat to him on IM. Just before going to sleep for the night, I would call him as he was getting up for the day. This constant scheduling to have as much contact through the day as possible left me with little-to-no desire to do anything else. And ever since he finally came to the States in January, we have obviously been relishing our time together. But no more, my friends. This time together has seen my ass gain 13 pounds (primarily due to the unnaturally high consumption rate of Ben and Jerry's) and my previous dedication to volunteer diminish to nothing. So, I've reclaimed my life and, hopefully, my body, and am going to get back on track. Volunteering is scheduled, a spinning class has been completed, as has my first yoga class in an embarrassingly long time. It feels good to be back.

How Come...

2008-05-20T17:15:00.000-07:00

we can put a man in space and give people other people's organs and clone animals but we CAN'T MAKE A FUCKING STAPLER THAT DOESN'T JAM??

Discuss.

It Had to Happen at Some Point

2008-05-16T10:19:00.000-07:00

When did we all get so....adult-y??

Over my life I have amassed a wonderful group of close friends. Some are from as far back as elementary school, others are from my high school and college years, and a few are from my time here in NYC. We are all in the 25-35 age range, and up until a couple of years ago, I sort of believed we would all stay young and care-free forever. I believed this in spite of the fact that a few friends were already married, and some of them had kids. The majority of us were still free-swinging singles, unattached and able to do as we pleased.

Suddenly, this is not so. I started going through a mental checklist and realized that almost every single one of my friends has effectively left his/her youthful ways behind and has entered fully and, let's hope, irreparably into adulthood.

Andy: married, two children.
Todd: married
Tim: getting married in less than two months
Colin: married
Bill K.: married, one child (new born!)
Bill R.: married
Katherine: married, currently pregnant (!)
Bry: married, one child (brand spanking new!)
Marlo: married, one child
Frances: married, one child
Marc and Jen: married, one child

To my knowledge, only Amy, Jenn, Stacy, Retta, John, and Jason have not joined the ranks yet.

This is amazing to me, that the time has come when more of my friends are married than not. And yet, even though I myself got married a mere 2 and a half weeks ago, I still feel like I did when I was a teenager.

Don't get me wrong; views and beliefs and goals have changed since that time, but I don't fundamentally feel any different now than I did then. I always expected there would come a time when I would suddenly click into place and realize with an astute awareness that an era has ended and I had crossed the threshold from girl to woman, but now I'm beginning to think this might never happen.

Maybe when I am 53 I will still feel the way I do now at 30. Maybe I will still have a hard time accepting the description of myself as "woman" and not "girl" or "chick." Maybe I will still want to consume an unhealthy number of frozen margaritas on random weekday nights and drink mimosas for an unseemly amount of time at weekend brunches. Maybe I will still be longing to travel around with a group of strangers through remote lands while carrying all my belongings in a backpack. Maybe I will still think we can save the world.

Man, I certainly hope so!