Cheryl: Different Versions of Yourself

This summer, the start of my post-college life, I moved back home, started a new job, left LI behind mentally as well as physically. Additionally, the very day after my graduation, I said goodbye to my sweet boyfriend of seven months so far, Rex, who returned home to Guam for the summer (yes, I am dating a Guamanian. yes, Guam not only a real place but also is U.S. territory, so he is not dating me for a green card. these were seriously the concerns of friends and family.)

Since May 19th, I have fallen into a pattern of moving beyond Hofstra emotionally, throwing myself into my Jersey life, with my Jersey friends and family. Whenever I visited home during the past four years, it felt like a trip back in time, and I always knew my family and friends from home did not adjust to my sometimes new and always vocal opinions so easily. Now I am myself full-time. It hasn't created any major predicaments, but it has been interesting to be who I am now, in the place that created the me I was. I sought out what I found I thrived on, like cafes, less popular movies, open discussion and free art. Luckily, I have met a lot of folks here who are politically active, concious consumers, and such, mostly through my job. For some reason, it feels new to encounter people like this in "real life", rather than at school.

Since Rex is literally on the other side of the world, moreover, I have gotten used to operating largely as a single gal, seeing friends every weekend and gallavanting on my own when the mood strikes me. Of course, there are emails and phone calls that bring me back every few days, but no physical obligations, or, for that matter, perks. This will change in eight short days when he returns, at which point I will likely be visiting Brooklyn every other weekend. I am looking forward to the return of my relationship to my life, as well as the opportunity to spend time regularly in the city I adore. But it will be different from what I have crafted here since graduation.

Last week I had the house to myself for 2 straight days. I got a glimpse of how I would live if I lived by myself - messily and rushed. I am not the most responsible person, unless I know someone else will be inconvienced by my mess. But I am reliable when others are involved; despite staying up til 3 am on Friday night (thanks, L word season 5), I rose at 6 am to head to Long Island to meet my family.

My grandfather has been in his house in Massapequa for 53 years, 52 of them with my craft-inclined grandma, who lives in a senior home since her advanced Alzheimers makes it impossible for him to take care of her. This weekend my entire family (meaning, my other grandma, my grandpa himself, my mother, bro, and I) banned together to sell as much of the accumulated 53 years of stuff as possible at a yard sale. It was aggravating, but successful, and I acquired a lot of cool old jewelry that belonged to my grandma. It is pretty overwhelming to see so many half-accomplished projects and pieces of a life spread out across a lawn.

One thing that I noticed however, was the feeling of being the post-grad me around my family. My job, my interracial relationship (my grandparents often exhibit themselves as lingering racists), my style, my vegetarianism, my tendency to have my nose in a book, is acknowledged and accepted, despite my family's probable apprehension and bewilderment at my choices, and the hope that I will grow out of them.

But there were no lectures. I decided my own arrival and departure time to this family affair. Then I chose to make a stopover in NYC, and I bought an impromptu single ticket to Rent (which will be gone soon), I enjoyed the feeling. I don't fear the city, my family, or the future. I feel pretty confident, capable and optimistic. Bring it on, life.

beth: THE BIG SHE BANG

For those of you in New York today.  Sorry such late notice.  My piece on Jodi is going to be presented.  I also wrote a piece about community and illness support.  There will be a lot of great thing there today. I highly suggest you check it out.

Blyth: A Quick Ugh In The Morning

Russian Judge Rules Sexual Harassment Is Okay As It Ensures Survival Of Human Race

A woman seeking to become only the third woman ever to successfully bring a sexual harassment case in Russia was dealt a shocking rebuke when the judge threw out her case, ruling that sexual harassment is actually necessary for the survival of the human race:

She alleged she had been locked out of her office after she refused to have intimate relations with her 47-year-old boss.

"He always demanded that female workers signalled to him with their eyes that they desperately wanted to be laid on the boardroom table as soon as he gave the word," she earlier told the court. "I didn't realise at first that he wasn't speaking metaphorically."

The judge said he threw out the case not through lack of evidence but because the employer had acted gallantly rather than criminally.

"If we had no sexual harassment we would have no children," the judge ruled.

Foreign Policy's blog notes that while Russia has made it a major priority to reverse the nation's population decline, this is perhaps not the best way to go about it, considering how dismal working conditions are for Russian women already:

According to a recent survey, 100 percent of female professionals said they had been subjected to sexual harassment by their bosses, 32 percent said they had had intercourse with them at least once and another seven percent claimed to have been raped.

Blyth: Down By The Waterfront

I've lived in San Francisco for over a year now and sometimes I still forget how fucking beautiful it can be.














This weekend, after much debauchery, my dating partner and I took a long walk down Funston beach. It was aaaamazing!














There are moments in my life that feel so surreal. Moments when I pause expecting some overly sentimental soundtrack to start playing, like I'm not actually living this moment. Like it must have been scripted. But alas the Indigo Girls never start playing (well almost never...). This is my life. My real life. I live here. That shit is crazy.

I'm in love with the ocean. But I'm trying really hard not to fall in love with the womyn who was standing beside me. They're both beautiful but they're both really fucking dangerous. And I haven't yet learned how to avoid hir at high tide.

Still Saturday there was hangliders, crashing waves, dance lessons and an unbelievable sunset. Cue the music....

Taylor: Chinese Takeout and the Single Girl

I'm highly affected by what I see/do/think about before I go to sleep at night. It's a bit of childish psychosis that I wish would change, but for now, it's something I often have to consider if I want a restful evening. It's one reason why I prefer not to watch horror films. After seeing one of the Scream movies, I had nightmares that someone in one of those masks was trying to kill me. Once or twice would have been manageable, but that dream recurred over a period of about a month. Since my normal television watching agenda includes plenty of death - lately it's CSI and Deadliest Catch - I end up watching a fair amount of outwardly sappy shit right before I go to sleep. Romantic comedies? Bring 'em on.

To relieve myself from one day's dose of television death, I turned to Kissing Jessica Stein before bedtime. It's not a particularly great movie, but it will always have a special place in my heart for giving me the term "sexy ugly" (but that's another post for another time). As I snuggled into bed and set the sleep timer on the TV, the movie went into the "she's so lonely" scene, where Jessica came home to a messy but nice (and completely unreal for NYC, by the by) apartment. This involved the standard single girl refrigerator shot: nothing except a Chinese food carton. Right then it occurred to me: How in the hell did the "single girls' refrigerators are all empty except for Chinese takeout" idea become a stereotype? Even this video - which I find hilarious - does it. So when and why did it start? And are there single women who actually eat like that?

I have a few logistical items to pick with whoever started this movie trend (and I'm going to guess it was a man). As an example, we'll use myself and my roommates. One of my roommates is in one of those long running "It's Complicated" relationships and the other has been in a committed relationship for a little over a year. And yours truly? Freer than "Freebird." I would like to note that I am a New Yorker and absolutely qualify as a busy woman - the kind that, in a movie producer's eyes, would be a prime candidate for empty fridges and Chinese food ordering.

Examining our fridge on a regular basis, just under half of the things in there are mine, and at least one fourth of the things that belong to my roommates are either a) expired or b) things they're never going to eat. If we're going to do this right, we should examine cupboards as well, and my dry food? Takes up two cupboards. Each of my other roommates has one. I can safely say that in a contest of total in-house food ownership, I'd probably take it. I might even have as much as the two of them combined. (Except in rare cases, like when one of them decides to cook for their SO, or prepares food for a party or something.) What can I say, I like to cook. A lot.

That knocks off the "empty" part of the stereotype. Now, as to the takeout.

Personally, I don't like Chinese food, so let's change Chinese takeout to takeout in general. Of course, if we want to expand this like I did before, it should include meals outside of the house, sit down style.

On average, I go out to eat about once or twice a week, usually on the weekends. On average, one of my roommates beats this in about half the time, and the other probably matches it. One of them is an aspiring foodie, so she and her SO go out for dinner about three times a week, generally at very nice places. My other roommate cooks a lot for her and her SO, but they go for an out of the house meal from time to time, probably just a hair more often than I do.

On the other hand, for takeout meals both roommates win. In the past week, we've had two versions of takeout leftovers in our fridge (one set Chinese, the other set Thai), both belonging to my roommates. The last time I ordered takeout was when I wanted sushi for lunch while watching a Salman Rushdie documentary - which was, according to Netflix, back in June.

I'm sure that, in part, the takeout stereotype stems from assuming that no one wants to go sit in a restaurant by themselves, and I have a slight bone to pick with that, as well. Firstly, single women have friends. They likely even hang out with these friends more frequently than those in a relationships. The catching up with a friend dinner is a pretty big staple in my life - in fact, I'm going on one tonight. Secondly, I don't have a problem with eating by myself in a restaurant. The pathos of worrying what people are going to think about someone alone in a restaurant is awful and ridiculous. Treating oneself to a nice sit down meal can be an incredibly freeing experience, much like going to movies or concerts alone. You don't have to worry about waiting for anyone else or considering what someone else wants to eat/see/listen to. Some of the best dining experiences I've had have been when flying solo. Because you're alone, waiters are much more attentive, and the food arrives more quickly.

The takeout trend might also stem from the idea that single girls are going on so many dates that they never eat at home, and that doesn't really hold water, either. Even the people I know with the most active dative lives aren't eating out every single night.

So, single ladies, I'm curious, does the only Chinese takeout in the fridge movie stereotype resemble your eating habits?

And if any movie buffs can shed light on this stereotype, please do.

Mary: learning in nyc

A coworker of mine told me today that I should stick to straightening my hair everyday because it looks "thin" and "flat" when I let it wave naturally.  When I was a little girl, I had very thick, very straight, dark dark dark brown hair.  After puberty, my hair behave to make tight waves and the excessiveness of it calmed down.  I was never one to look in the mirror and admire myself, but I've always enjoyed my hair as one of my stronger features.

Needless to say, I didn't need the cruel comment this morning.  Nor do I need the daily dose of criticism from this coworker - calling me "rabbit" because I eat a lot of salads, asking me if I'm "special ed" when I don't answer her questions quick enough, which usually involve extremely important tasks like refilling an electric stapler or turning up the brightness on her computer screen.  I intern for the City of New York and while I've always heard jokes about the attitude and laziness of city employees, particularly those with civil service qualifications, I've never been one to really commit myself to a stereotype.  But working at this agency for the past 10 months, I'm becoming more and more convinced.

Today at 4:00pm when I went to clock out, I asked my coworker why she was so edgy today.  She suffers from constant crankiness, but today was terrible, even by her standards.  She told me they were changing her hours from flex time (any 9 working hours between 8am and 7pm) to standard 9-5.  She travels from the Bronx, a long subway/bus commute to downtown Manhattan, and she worries about standing on the trains during rush hour with her chronic back/neck problems.  At 60, she is looking to retire, but needs 3 more years to recieve the maximum payout from her pension.  Together, we found the phone numbers she could call to inquire about a disability package and tomorrow I am going to help her figure out if she qualifies for 3 years disability before retirement.  Regardless, I can pretty much guarentee that tomorrow, my coworker will be equally as miserable as she has been every other day of work since I began last October.  

At school, when discussing the struggle between public property and private housing, the term eminent domain is frequently used.  Basically, it means that the government has the right to take your land, pay you for it, and then do whatever it wants to with it.  History shows lots of examples of this happening, especially in poor neighborhoods, when the government thinks it can "fix" an area by capturing the land and building "affordable" housing on it, or even worse, taking the land and selling it to a private developer.  While the buildings are beautified and the lawns are kept with bushes and trees and gardens, the original residents are displaced and priced out of their former neighborhoods. Look up "urban renewal programs" to get a better idea of this.  NONETHELESS, when these disadvantaged people, now homeless or stuck in an overcrowded facility get angry or violent or frustrated, the city has a fit and says, "SEE! This is why we can't get anything done in this neighborhood, because these people are unruly!" when it is the city's fault in the first place for pissing them off.  I'd be pretty upset if one morning I woke up to news that I was being kicked out.

I guess it's far fetched, but I see a serious relationship between these two situations.  We have displaced people, pissed off because they were dealt a crappy hand, and even more angry because the government sold their house to a rich contractor to build a duplex while they are forced to live in a comparable slum in a different neighborhood.  They are economically, socially and emotionally torn apart.  Then we have my coworker, who has a grudge on her shoulder, probably because her health is a mess but who really just needs someone to cut her a little slack and allow her flexible working hours.  Or, maybe it's time for her to retire, but she doesn't know how to take the first step in maximizing her pension package so she can support her grandchildren that live with her while their mother finishes her drug-bust prison sentence (true story).  I'm first to admit that in many situations, especially those that involved the entitlement of a citizen to government aid, the issue is the laziness of the victim, or the inflexibility and arrogance of the victim.  However!  a lot of the time it's the crap situation the person has been dealt.  We never really, fully understand the struggles of others.  And while it is so easy for the City of NY to wag a pointed finger at those living in the slums, it is equally as easy for someone like me to roll my eyes and give a pathetic glare to an unkind coworker with a serious lack of sensitivity.  I could very easy come home and rant and rave about how low-class this person is, and sure, sometimes I do because yes, sometimes she fulfills every stereotype.  But I'd like to think that for the most part, the bulk of us do the best we can, even if in that particular moment the best we can is kind of crappy.

Blyth: Hitting Walls Within Myself

Last night I felt myself hit a wall. A mental wall. And it wasn’t a hit so much as a slam.

Things have been great. I’ve been dating someone for a little over 4 months and the past few weeks have been the best of our time together. I moved into a new house with perfectly colored walls. I’m working with an organization I adore. All things add up to my life being awesome. But there’s something missing. Some purpose.

I find myself talking about the persin I used to be. I used to try harder to live by my values. I used to be intentional with my words. I used to seek out opportunities to help. I used to incorporate anti oppression work into my day to day life. I used to do all those things. But what the fuck am I doing now? I fear San Francisco has turned into that black hole that I feared…yet craved. For the first time in my life I am able to distract myself with convenience. Life, for the most part, is easy and that has been surprisingly hard for me.

Sometimes I lose sight of how much work I’ve done to get here. I get wrapped up in a moment and I forget that I’ve already done this. I know the answer. I can make the right choice. Because lately I’ve made the easy choices: staying in the relationship I know isn’t good for me, eating the food that is more tasty than it is nutritious, fucking around on the internets instead of writing, throwing myself into social situations instead of processing through my shit. And all these easy choices have taken a toll. They have moved me farther away from who I want to be more than any move to an uber liberal city could.

So I guess that’s it. I’m lost. I know what I need to do to get back on track and I’m absolutely annoyed at my unwillingness to just get it done. I’m frustrated by my exhaustion when my life is the easiest it’s ever been. Instead of being nourished by supporting others I feel drained, tricked, trapped. And I hate myself for that. I suppose the truth is that part of me is tired of carrying everyone else’s shit and part of me needs it. So where the fuck do I go from there?

I think I just hit the wall of knowing that this emptiness I feel is my own doing…..