The day Frank was born, was the day I decided my childhood had ended. That's the great thing about being a millennial, we got to stay children longer. Thanks to the economy, my generation got social acceptance about suckling off our parent's teat well into our twenties. Well, there might be the only good thing about the entirety of GWB's presidency.
I spent my 20's childhood, working long hours at menial jobs and attempting to get a college education, but mostly I spent it among friends doing crazy shit, a lot of which I hope my son never finds out about. That's how I got pregnant. I was lucky it didn't happen until my late 20s.
That nine months went by like a whirlwind of life changes. My roommates moved out, my boyfriend took a well-paying job (albeit in another town 5 hours north) and I started my transformation from WomanChild to WomanGrownUp.
Monday, March 17, 2014
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
The Oregon Trail
We joke that Brittany and Shane followed "the Oregon Trail" west. I remember the night they announced that they were moving to Portland. We sat talking over late night cups of coffee, at the same table in the same restaurant we always held these sessions. They took turns listing facts and figures they'd read online about how progressive Portland was, how green living, cultural diversity and a true appreciation of the arts had come together to form a west coast utopia.
To be honest with you, I never thought they'd go. Since the day Brittany and I became friends she'd always fantasize about moving to one glam city or another. First it was New York, then New Jersey, I'm sure Seattle was in the mix at some point, and so on. I don't know what it was about Portland, but it stuck. The two took additional jobs, and started pinching every penny, they researched everything they could about where they were going and how they were going to get there. Most importantly, they set a deadline. They wanted to be on their way to Portland and out of Illinois by New Years Eve 2009.
December 27th, outside Shane's apartment, we said our goodbyes. Everything they owned was crammed into the back of Brittany's 20-year-old Oldsmobile which seemed to sag under the weight. Later we would all speculate our amazement that "Brenda" made the trip from Illinois to Oregon.
It didn't set in that they were gone until they had arrived in Portland. They had made the trip in 5 days, the entire time I was in my own little land of denial telling myself that "they weren't in Portland yet" so they could still return. After all, they hadn't lined up an apartment or even employment yet in Portland, which would signify their true residence in Portland. I tried to think of it as my friends being on a really long road trip. Luckily the thick layer of denial I'd caked on wore away the more settled Brittany and Shane got in their new home.
I send them letters and mix CDs and we keep up online. I haven't visited them yet, soon though I hope. Their move has inspired me though, I think that by following their example I could soon move too. Something that seemed impossible to me for so long. But that is a story for another day.
To be honest with you, I never thought they'd go. Since the day Brittany and I became friends she'd always fantasize about moving to one glam city or another. First it was New York, then New Jersey, I'm sure Seattle was in the mix at some point, and so on. I don't know what it was about Portland, but it stuck. The two took additional jobs, and started pinching every penny, they researched everything they could about where they were going and how they were going to get there. Most importantly, they set a deadline. They wanted to be on their way to Portland and out of Illinois by New Years Eve 2009.
December 27th, outside Shane's apartment, we said our goodbyes. Everything they owned was crammed into the back of Brittany's 20-year-old Oldsmobile which seemed to sag under the weight. Later we would all speculate our amazement that "Brenda" made the trip from Illinois to Oregon.
It didn't set in that they were gone until they had arrived in Portland. They had made the trip in 5 days, the entire time I was in my own little land of denial telling myself that "they weren't in Portland yet" so they could still return. After all, they hadn't lined up an apartment or even employment yet in Portland, which would signify their true residence in Portland. I tried to think of it as my friends being on a really long road trip. Luckily the thick layer of denial I'd caked on wore away the more settled Brittany and Shane got in their new home.
I send them letters and mix CDs and we keep up online. I haven't visited them yet, soon though I hope. Their move has inspired me though, I think that by following their example I could soon move too. Something that seemed impossible to me for so long. But that is a story for another day.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Dear Wedding Industry: FUCK YOU. (or why I reactivated my MySpace account.)
One of the reasons I started using myspace again was because the Facebook targeting ads are really starting to piss me off. I recently changed my FB relationship status from "single" to "in a relationship" (that's another story entirely, but let's keep going) and since the change FB has been hounding me with all sorts of fucking ads for diamonds and david's bridal. I've also been getting a barrage of "new mom" ads too, but I find those more ironic than annoying.
So what's the problem? The problem is that the wedding industry is the biggest ripoff ever. It tricks people into thinking that they need to go into thousands and thousands of dollars in debt in order to "kick off" their new lives of marital bliss. It's one day. One. And trust me if you're lucky enough to make it to a milestone anniversary (hey, you have a 1 in 2 chance. 50%) nobody's gonna remember the barrage of limousines, the clownsuit bridesmaids dresses, or how many fucking swans you had wandering around during the ceremony.
Ornate and ceremonial wedding ceremonies have been around for long before our time, they are tradition in almost every culture on our planet. I realize that they are (mostly) times of joy, and that joy must never be postponed, so we celebrate. That's great, celebrate, have fun, knock yourself out! I'm happy for you. But are you really so unhappy that the only way you can feel happy on the "happiest day of your life" is to take out a loan larger than your car note to pay for a princess party?
That's exactly what this has evolved into, this is how the young women of my generation are perpetuating the damn Princess Complex! The fucking notion that every little girl can be a princess with enough pink plastic accessories, all she needs is a lot of encouragement from friends and family, and a total lack of grip on reality. It's a movement that has transcended the Bourgeoisie and the Monarchy since it was first mass marketed by Disney during the mid-20th century, and is available at your local Wal-Mart Supercenter.
These girls grow up dreaming about their own fairy tale weddings, and when the time comes, they feel entitled to their own circus and transmogrify into "BRIDEZILLAS" when they aren't given their way. You gotta tv close? Click to TLC (they had to shorten it to TLC for the same reason KFC isn't Kentucky Fried Chicken anymore.) Okay, so I bet you saw a reference to that show "Bridezilla" or one of its clones like "Say "Yes" To The Dress"? You did!? Holy shit, what are the odds? Ladies! Wake up!? Do we really act like this? Do you not feel insulted by the stereotype of women perpetuated by the wedding industry, the entertainment industry and...the diamond industry? (we'll come back to that in a second) But don't you feel like they're trying to portray us all as a bunch of mindless babymachines who can be made into submissive housewives provided they get to play expensive dress up for one fucking ceremony? They make us seem completely fixated on material objects! Hey look over there! Shiny things!
Which aptly brings us to the diamond industry. Who loves the wedding industry better than the diamond industry? Nobody I can think of. At the very least you're gonna buy a ring for your wedding day. It's just tradition. Part of every girl's fairytale wedding daydream includes the shiny rock she gets. The bigger the better! And they better shine! But where does all that ice come from? The jewelery store? Switzerland? No, a hole in the ground in Africa where it's extracted from the earth by some one handed child in the middle of bloody civil war? Don't know what I'm talking about? Go read a fucking book. So, not only does the wedding/diamond industry turn our women into psycho dinosaur people it also has global effects and fucks over a bunch of people who we don't even know. Way to go.
So I'm back on myspace now, I never realized how much I missed those "You're our 40 billionth winner this hour click here!" ads. They used to make me feel stupid, which is why I stopped using myspace. But now I'd rather be called stupid than ever be known as a "Bridezilla".
So what's the problem? The problem is that the wedding industry is the biggest ripoff ever. It tricks people into thinking that they need to go into thousands and thousands of dollars in debt in order to "kick off" their new lives of marital bliss. It's one day. One. And trust me if you're lucky enough to make it to a milestone anniversary (hey, you have a 1 in 2 chance. 50%) nobody's gonna remember the barrage of limousines, the clownsuit bridesmaids dresses, or how many fucking swans you had wandering around during the ceremony.
Ornate and ceremonial wedding ceremonies have been around for long before our time, they are tradition in almost every culture on our planet. I realize that they are (mostly) times of joy, and that joy must never be postponed, so we celebrate. That's great, celebrate, have fun, knock yourself out! I'm happy for you. But are you really so unhappy that the only way you can feel happy on the "happiest day of your life" is to take out a loan larger than your car note to pay for a princess party?
That's exactly what this has evolved into, this is how the young women of my generation are perpetuating the damn Princess Complex! The fucking notion that every little girl can be a princess with enough pink plastic accessories, all she needs is a lot of encouragement from friends and family, and a total lack of grip on reality. It's a movement that has transcended the Bourgeoisie and the Monarchy since it was first mass marketed by Disney during the mid-20th century, and is available at your local Wal-Mart Supercenter.
These girls grow up dreaming about their own fairy tale weddings, and when the time comes, they feel entitled to their own circus and transmogrify into "BRIDEZILLAS" when they aren't given their way. You gotta tv close? Click to TLC (they had to shorten it to TLC for the same reason KFC isn't Kentucky Fried Chicken anymore.) Okay, so I bet you saw a reference to that show "Bridezilla" or one of its clones like "Say "Yes" To The Dress"? You did!? Holy shit, what are the odds? Ladies! Wake up!? Do we really act like this? Do you not feel insulted by the stereotype of women perpetuated by the wedding industry, the entertainment industry and...the diamond industry? (we'll come back to that in a second) But don't you feel like they're trying to portray us all as a bunch of mindless babymachines who can be made into submissive housewives provided they get to play expensive dress up for one fucking ceremony? They make us seem completely fixated on material objects! Hey look over there! Shiny things!
Which aptly brings us to the diamond industry. Who loves the wedding industry better than the diamond industry? Nobody I can think of. At the very least you're gonna buy a ring for your wedding day. It's just tradition. Part of every girl's fairytale wedding daydream includes the shiny rock she gets. The bigger the better! And they better shine! But where does all that ice come from? The jewelery store? Switzerland? No, a hole in the ground in Africa where it's extracted from the earth by some one handed child in the middle of bloody civil war? Don't know what I'm talking about? Go read a fucking book. So, not only does the wedding/diamond industry turn our women into psycho dinosaur people it also has global effects and fucks over a bunch of people who we don't even know. Way to go.
So I'm back on myspace now, I never realized how much I missed those "You're our 40 billionth winner this hour click here!" ads. They used to make me feel stupid, which is why I stopped using myspace. But now I'd rather be called stupid than ever be known as a "Bridezilla".
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