thirty threadbare mercies

The outward expression of an inward grace.

Waldorf: More Than Just a Salad, or Half of a Famous NYC Hotel. Who Knew? February 21, 2013

Filed under: Books,Christianity,Parenting,Personal,Preschool,Toddlers,TV — rheabette @ 2:29 pm
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My daughter has been at her preschool for almost three weeks now, and in less than a month of only 3 mornings a week there, I’ve noticed some real changes in her, as well as in our household.  Waldorf style schools are famous for discouraging television watching, encouraging the use of wooden toys that inspire imaginative play, and relying heavily on the natural world as a teacher.  Going in I was like, “yes, yes, all of that sounds lovely”, but skeptical if it would really change my family much.

However, through studying the suggested readings, conversations with the teachers, and just observing how they do things there (Olive has had a bit of a hard time being away from her mama, so I had to join the class one day), I am finding myself making some subtle yet huge changes in my parenting.

First of all, now that I have 3 mornings to myself to get things done, we are having to use television a lot less.  In the past, we popped on a show whenever I needed to take a shower, do chores, or make a phone call.  Now, I can do a lot of those things while she’s gone, so  I have more time to play with her rather than rely on television.

I should state that we really used very little television before, so my daughter barely even asks for it now.  Since Olive has become more used to imaginative indoor play at school, she is doing it more at home.  Also, she has been exposed to opportunities to do work there, so now she’ll help me with the dishes, with folding clothes, and cleaning up.  Of course she doesn’t actually help too much, but if she is a part of the task, she is at least occupied while I am completing it.  And she feels like she is a part of my life and my duties, that she has a role in the household.

One of the things I’ve been learning from the readings the school has suggested is that kids play differently when their toy choices are simple, beautiful, and encourage their imagination.  So, I did a purge of our toys, giving away plastic trucks and buses that make noise, and keeping a small basket of pretty items, including an eye patch, an apron, several magic wands, a spinning top, and, of course, her treasure chest.  Now Olive has her play kitchen, her art desk, her tool table, her musical instruments, her books, and a few dolls.  That’s about it, and it seems to be all she needs.

I am really excited by the idea of giving Olive things that are beautiful, and that engage the senses.  I remember my obsession with a small ceramic box with colorful stones in it, which I played with for hours as a child.  I imagined it had been imbued with some special magic, and I invested all kinds of powers in the stones.

With this in mind, I took out all my crystals the other day, and Olive and I had a little rock party.

rock party

I brought out a candle, and she basically told me about what she does at school as we played.  ”Oh, that’s the Quiet Candle”, she told me.  ”Let’s blow it out”, she suggested, so we did, and she said, “There’s the Smoke Fairy!”  She picked up one of the rocks and pretended it was a seashell, singing a little song that they use at school to gather for the story time.  When I laid out a pretty cloth for the rocks, she said, “That’s like the puppet show!”

crystal training

One of the moms at school introduced me to the YA books written in the late 80′s/early 90′s by Monica Furlong: Wise Child and Juniper.  These sweet novels are all about young girls being trained in the ways of healing and magic, and how those arts can totally live in compatibility with Christianity.  Intrigued, I looked in to more about the author, and she was instrumental in the effort for women to be ordained in the Church of England, and wrote several biographies about spiritual figures who were pushing the boundaries of patriarchy and oppression.

What I really love about the books are that they depict the coming of age of these girls, and it is not without struggle and pain.  A big part of my parenting style is allowing Olive to work hard at the things that she wants, even if that means she gets frustrated sometimes.  The message of these novels are that hard work helps you find courage to be who you are meant to be.  I can’t wait to read them to Olive one day, but in the meantime they were a good reminder for me that introducing Olive to the rhythms of the natural world, and allowing her to do more and more work with me are important growing opportunities for her.

This also led me to get my urban butt out into nature.  A mother from school invited us on a hike, and while my first instinct was “Hmm… most of the hikes I like to do are on paved roads that are lined with coffee shops”, I thought of Juniper and took the leap.

glen park3

I have to admit it was rather refreshing, if a bit cold and damp.  And when we got home, Olive doubled her usual nap time, so I suppose hikes do have their benefits!

At a party on New Years Day, a woman who heard that my daughter was starting Waldorf preschool the following month assumed a knowing smile and said, “Oh, you are about to enter into this truly magical time with your little one.  It will be so precious — giving up TV, getting in touch with nature, eating whole foods… just you wait.”  I really wanted to punch this lady in the face, as she was using all the language that usually makes me want to barf all over the Tevas of the people spouting it, but I just smiled wanly and went to refresh my drink.  Looking back, I can see what she meant.  I hope that I will never appear to be that dreamy-eyed about it, but I admit that there is a change happening in our household, as a result of Olive’s new school.

Although at first she was so sad to leave me, today when I came to get her, she hugged me for just as long as usual, but asked if we could stay longer!  And, this week has been the first time she’s peed in the potty, so I guess she’s growing up all over the place.

I’m interested to see where this journey takes us next — as long as I don’t have to give up red lipstick and going out dancing after Olive’s bedtime, I’m feeling much more open to the process.

 

“Am I a babe or a gargoyle?”: Finding the babe with Cheryl Strayed November 6, 2012

Filed under: Body Image,Books,Parenting,Reading,Writing — rheabette @ 4:55 am
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On the eve of the Election, I headed back to the Herbst, this time to see a writer who has skyrocketed to my list of favorite authors in the past year, Cheryl Strayed. If you haven’t heard me trip over myself with excitement about Wild or Tiny Beautiful Things, suffice it to say that her writing taps into the universal with such specificity that I’ve been sure at times she was transcribing things from my own head, only more eloquently than my brain usually works.

photo by Brian Lindstrom

I was even a little nervous to see her in the flesh, scared it would break the shimmery sheen of my admiration for and identification with her. As my friend and I watched the theater fill with an oddly monocultural audience of middle-aged white ladies, I was irritated that they were here too, clutching their copies of Strayed’s memoir. I felt inappropriately possessive of a person that I don’t even know. I want to share Strayed’s work with everyone I meet, but somehow I still want to save her as specially mine.
Thus belies the intimacy of her work. She makes the reader feel that she’s telling your story along with hers, even as the specifics of her life are laid bare, uniquely her own. She makes no apologies for the mistakes she’s made in her life (destroying her first marriage, tiny heroin addiction, credit debt), but takes full responsibility for them, in a way that is refreshingly free of self-deprecation.
The first thing I noticed about Strayed in person is her confidence. She speaks about her work, which is extremely personal, in a relaxed way that lets everyone in the room know that this woman knows herself through and through. She said, “As a writer, you have to say who you are going to be, and you can’t be anyone else.” She stated that it is necessary for a writer to be determined, to have a “ferocity of intention and spirit.”
When I write with the kind of raw honesty that Strayed is known for, I feel an amazing vitality while writing it, but then I walk around in the world for at least a week feeling like all the skin on my body has been peeled off, and I’m laid bare, vulnerable. She seems wholly at peace with such public revelations. Maybe it’s practice. She said, “What I have to offer is sincerity. The more I risked sincerity, the greater my readership grew.”
I loved what she said about mothering toddlers: “All of my independence had been taken away by these beloved tyrants.” This is when she commenced writing Wild, the memoir about her transformative hike on the PCT. “I started to write about a time that I was independent, totally alone, and self-sufficient. Everything I needed was on my back.”  Lately, I have been compulsively writing about my adolescent years, a time when I was living only for myself, which was not a charming trait but is so far from my life now that returning to it just feels right.
My favorite part of the evening is when she asked this question: “Am I a babe or a gargoyle?”, naming it “the central mystery of my life”. She was recounting standing in a bar waiting to meet up with a “hunky” man she’d met on the trail, suddenly self-conscious and feeling it could go either way when he saw her — would he be struck by her beauty or her ugliness? Don’t we all feel this way a lot of the time? That in one light, our flaws only add to our appeal, and in another, they completely undermine it? Later in the discussion she took this out of the physical, relating it to the decision you have to make as a writer. What I believe she was trying to get at is that when you are boldly putting your life down on the page, you will encounter no end to doubt, but you have to, at some point, choose to be the babe.
Strayed is known for writing and talking candidly about money. She grew up in a home without electricity, indoor plumbing, or separate rooms. “Being poor teaches you not to wait around to have enough money to do something.” I completely and totally relate to this. Whenever I have truly wanted something, I have plunged ahead, even though I have almost never been able to fund those desires fully.
The greatest one that comes to mind is the decision to have a child. My husband was sure that we should wait until we were more established in our careers and could afford to support a kid. My take on it was, “That is never going to happen! No one in my family has ever had the money needed to feel a sense of stability. We can’t wait for a day that will probably never come. Love won’t wait!” So, we created Olive. And no, we don’t have “enough” money to feel in any small way secure. But, as Strayed points out, looking back on her time on the trail, when she had considerably less money than anyone else out there, “I did have enough money. Because I finished the hike.”
I think that is how Joel and I will look back on this time of Olive’s early years. Everything in us is always screaming, “We don’t have enough money to cover our needs!” But really, we do, because we’re doing it. What is missing is that feeling of a safety net, and as Strayed so aptly put it, “Growing up poor gave me this gift of feeling safe in the world with only a dollar in my pocket.” Struggle, particularly of the monetary kind, brings within you a sense of self-reliance and resilience that cannot be bought.
Strayed quoted Grace Paley in saying that she “writes so she can taste life twice”. That is certainly my intention in writing this post. My friend and I felt like the reading/discussion, which was only a little over an hour, went by much too fast. I wish my evening with Strayed stretched out over the long night of waiting for Election Day. I was awoken at 3 AM by my daughter crying, and have been unable to get back to bed. I’m writing this in a silent city, the hum of the refrigerator my only companion. I’m trying to hold on to the strength and inspiration that seeing and hearing Cheryl gave me, by sharing it with you. I’m hoping it will get us through this day, come what may.

 

2nd Annual Book Review Bonanza September 20, 2012

Filed under: Books,Parenting,Reading — rheabette @ 8:09 am
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Last year, I got a lot of feedback about my post that chronicled all the books I read during Olive’s first year of life.  I have had a lot of folks ask me for book suggestions, and some even joked about me having a Book Club a la Oprah, with books on my seal of approval list!

Well, I’m certainly not at cultural zeitgeist level, but I’m happy to oblige with a list of recommended reads.  I also enjoy telling you which books are crappy, to save you some vital reading time.  Finally, I’m curious to see if I beat last year’s tally, which was 71 books.  So, I’m re-adopting my rating system from last year, but substituting boring asteriks for Kit Cat Clocks, which are my daughter and I’s current neighborhood obsession (we walk by the store that sells them and say hello to them every day):

The measuring symbol of 2012: a feline clock whose eyes and tail twitch in time.

 = an instant classic, one I will recommend to anyone who will listen, a sure re-read.

 = a solid excellent book, well written and enjoyable.

= fun, but not life-changing.

 = either the equivalent of an US magazine — frivolous and poorly written, or inherently problematic.

 = drivel.

1.  The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern.  A fantastical novel that I think anyone looking for an unconventional love story would enjoy.  I wrote a review of it on the blog, which is worth clicking through just to see the reader comments on that post, which are perhaps even better than the book!

2. Happy Chaos by Soleil Moon Frye.  In my post about all the celebrity memoirs I’d been reading, I called this “momoir” just one step up from spending an hour reading a Twitter feed.

3.  The Irrational Season by Madeleine L’Engle is one of those books that make you feel so blessed to be a human, living on an earth once shared with a creature as wise, loving, and vulnerable as L’Engle.  I will return to this book again and again in this life.

4. The House in France by Gully Wells.  As I predicted at the end of my post last year, I did not get through this one.  It is very hard for me to relate to folks with ultra-privileged backgrounds, unless they are willing to deconstruct that upbringing a bit, and her memoir just sent it up.

5. Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner.  This book was really sad for me to read, as it was about two couples who were inseparable their whole lives, which is something Joel and I used to have, so it was hard to feel that loss as I read this lovely story.  It is incredibly well-written, so I do recommend it.

6. Happy Accidents by Jane Lynch.  This is one of the other books I reviewed in my post about celebrity memoirs.  A fun read if you’re into Jane, but not life changing.

7.  Mockingbird by Kathryn Erskine.  I could not get into this book at all: it just wasn’t for me.

8.  Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones.  I picked up this children’s novel because I love the movie by Hayao Miyazaki, and the book did not disappoint.  A sweet read, either alone for a less challenging week, or with your elementary schooler.  The magical tone is quite satisfying.

9.  The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis.  I did a full review of this book on the blog as well, in my post in which I compared it to the next book I read.  My re-read of this novel was enlightening, as Lewis appears to make a case for feeling real pain and real pleasure, which seems unlikely for a Christian but not for an Anglican, which he was!

10.  La Seduction: How the French Play the Game of Life by Elaine Sciolino.  I can’t seem to stop reading books about France, and with each one, my longing to go there only grows.  Check out my full review of this book in this post, which includes 8 ways you can try to be more French, based on Sciolino’s text.

11.  Two Part Invention: The Story of a Marriage by Madeleine L’Engle.  Gorgeous portrait of a marriage of fidelity, mutual love and respect.

12.  State of Wonder by Ann Patchett.  Breathtaking.  If you are reading this list looking for just one novel to pick up, let it be this one.  The way Patchett weaves this story together is masterful, and the ending is really satisfying.

13.  The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides.   I enjoyed this, for sure, but the style of telling something from one perspective and then going back and re-telling it from another character’s perspective was tedious to me. Also, there were some characters I loved and wanted more of, like Mitchell, and others that seemed hollow and devoid of an arc, like Madeleine and Leonard. It was a good read, but Mitchell’s spiritual growth was the most valuable part of the book, and I had really high expectations, after Middlesex.

14.  Out of Oz (The Wicked Years #4) by Gregory Maguire.  This book was good but all the constant traveling in it made me exhausted.

15.  The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh.  This is a good novel for anyone wanting to learn more about foster children, and how attachment disorder pans out in adulthood.  I found the way she used flowers to tell an emotional story quite charming.

16.  Calling in “The One”: 7 Weeks to Attract the Love of Your Life by Katherine Woodward Thomas.  I read this for work, to help a client go through the exercises to find a fulfilling love relationship.  It is a nice program for people who are pining for a relationship, and wanting to know what deeper underlying issues could be impeding that from happening.  As a therapist, it was a good way of moving that issue forward with a client, instead of letting the issue fester over time.

17.  Bright Young Things by Anna Godberson.  I just found this YA read so boring.

18.  Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? by Mindy Kaling.  This memoir led me to write a post in which I list the reasons that Minds and I should be buds.  I think you should read it, especially since some of the problems I had with the memoir are also reflected in her new TV show, The Mindy Project: it’s hilarious, but all the cracks about her weight are just irritating.  Mindy, YOU’RE NOT FAT SO IT’S NOT FUNNY, IT’S JUST SAD.

19.  A Discovery of Witches (All Souls Trilogy #1) by Deborah Harkness.  I was so excited about this book: witches, vampires, alchemy, and history?  Count me in.  But I should have known it was too many buzz words to be well conceived.  Because she is a historian first, Harkness takes forever setting up the scene.  I don’t get any good witchiness until over a hundred pages in.  Once it gets going, the book is really interesting.  However, the very traditional love relationship between the two main characters made me angry.

20.  A Life at Work: The Joy of Discovering What You Were Born To Do by Thomas Moore.  I read this in the throws of being laid off and trying to figure out what I wanted to do next.  This book was a good read, but since I still don’t know what I’m doing with my life, I can only give it three kit cat clocks.

21.  Chocolat (Chocolat #1) by Joanne Harris.  A very enjoyable read, perfect to read before Lent, to remember not to take it too seriously. But I was left with so many questions!  I felt the need to get the sequel immediately.  A few things are very different than the movie, which for the most part was a fun diversion but could Harris have found a way to shrink Johnny Depp and make it so he pops out whenever you open the book, speaking in an Irish gypsy accent?  KThanksBai.

22.  Slow Love: How I Lost My Job, Put on my Pajamas, and Found Happiness by Dominique Browning.  Another “I’m sad that I was laid off” book, but this one was horrible; boring and self-indulgent.  Maybe if I had been a rich middle-aged empty nester when I lost my job, I would have had more sympathy for her, but I could not relate.

23.  1Q84 by Hakuri Murakami.  Hated it. Couldn’t get into the cold female archetypes at all.  And yes, I am totally embarrassed that I don’t “get” Murakami.  True confessions!

24.  The Girl With No Shadow (Chocolat #2) by Joanne Harris.  This book built on Chocolat in a surprising and innovative way. It was totally satisfying, unlike its predecessor, which left me with one too many questions. There are so many gems in this book that I want to ponder further — the idea that people who try to help often do more harm than good, the mother-daughter themes, the re-awakening of who you really are. It was such a fun read, as well. Highly recommended, and I can’t wait for the last in the trilogy… will it ever come??

25.  The Paris Wife by Paula McLain.  This was a sad book in which for the first half, I was irritated with the main character, who seemed to be just attaching herself to other people’s dreams, and in the second half, I was irritated with everyone else, who just turned out to be terrible people. An interesting but depressing read.  Just read Hemmingway instead.

26.  A Girl Named Zippy by Haven Kimmel.  A sweet memoir, full of unconventional real-life characters and small town tidbits.

27.  Five Quarters of the Orange by Joanne Harris.  Every year I find a new author whose work I fall headlong into, and I always eventually find the one book that that disappoints, and stops me from filling up my to-read queue with every book they ever wrote.  This was the one that left me cold, as it was so disturbing I just wanted it to end.

28.  Love is a Mixtape by Rob Sheffield.  This was a sad, beautiful story of a young marriage, told through the language of music.  I found a lot to relate to in this memoir.

29.  The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick.  What a fun combination of pictures and text!  Buy it for your favorite teenager and steal it once they’ve torn through it.  The movie is magically excellent, as well!

30.  The Solace of Leaving Early by Haven Kimmel.  A really strong novel with themes of spirituality, trauma, and the interconnectedness of human lives.

31.  The Wise Heart: A Guide to the Teachings of Buddhist Psychology by Jack Kornfield.  This is a seminal Buddhist text, and I have actually not finished it yet.  I dip back in every time I need to shift my perspective.  It is where I found my Prayer of the Year, which I wrote about in my post about Radical Body Acceptance.

32.  Swamplandia by Karen Russell.  What hype around this terrible, way-too-dark novel!  Don’t believe it – must have been some publishing push.

33.  Some Assembly Required: A Journal of My Son’s First Son by Anne Lamott.  I wrote a full review of this book as well, in which I complain, totally undeservedly, that I wish Anne were more evolved.  She has no commitment to the public to be less neurotic than she has always been!  It’s just that she comes out with so many gems here and there, that slogging through her neuroses to get to them is like panning for gold in a murky river.

34.  Angry Conversations with God: A Snarky But Authentic Spiritual Memoir by Susan E. Isaacs.  The premise of this book, which is that Isaacs takes God to couple’s therapy, was so appealing to me, but the exposition was terrible.  I think a more traditional, conservative Christian would like it, but I’m not interested in a “testimony” in memoir form.

35.  NurtureShock: New Thinking About Children by Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman.  Reading this book led me to write one of the posts I am most proud of, my piece about talking to your kids about race.  That piece has led me to more deep discussions with parents about how to present race relations to their kids than I ever imagined.  I am grateful to Bronson and Merryman for their reporting, and learned a lot from the entire book.

36.  Arcadia by Lauren Groff.  This novel about a utopian society turned cult just did not grab me.

37.  Let’s Pretend This Never Happened: A Mostly True Memoir by Jenny Lawson.  I was really, really excited about this memoir, and it did not disappoint.  I love The Bloggess, and I hoped this memoir would join the ranks of Tina Fey’s Bossypants in satisfying my curiosity and making me laugh my pants off.  Which, it totally did.  Unexpected bonus?  Through saying I liked the book on Goodreads, I somehow found an entire community of badass folks that love the bloggess WAY more than I do but are hilarious and vulnerable and brave and call themselves Lawsbians.  They let me join their Facebook page and I feel like I have 100 new best friends.  Which sounds like a lot of pressure but mostly it’s just awesome sauce.

38.  Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail by Cheryl Strayed.  If you only read one memoir from this list, let it be this one.  I have told almost everyone I know about this book, and I usually give it this synopis: coming off the heels of losing her mom, destroying her marriage, and having a tiny heroin addiction, the author decided to hike the Pacific Crest Trail.  By herself.  Add to that drama the fact that it is written with such emotional depth that you find yourself gasping for air as you swim in the ocean of Strayed’s words, and you’ll be glad you picked up this one.

39.  Deadlocked (Sookie Stackhouse #12) by Charlaine Harris.  I think it was well established last year that no matter how many crappy books Harris writes in her Sookie Stackhouse series, which the television show True Blood is loosely based on, I am going to read them all.  This one was slightly less craptacular than the last one, but not enough that I feel it redeems my commitment to this terrible body of work.

40.  You’re Not Doing it Right: Tales of Marriage, Sex, Death and Other Humiliations by Michael Ian Black.  Funny man Black started this memoir strongly, with tales from the parenting ranks.  But when he backs up to tell how he got there, his misanthropy hijacks his writing in such a way that you want to give up on him.  I mean, if the writer doesn’t care about his life, why should we?

41.  Bitterblue (Graceling Realm #3) by Kristin Kashore.  The final book in this fantastical YA series was engaging and interesting, but flawed.  It is still worth reading, especially if you start with the first in the series, Graceling.

42. The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be And Embrace Who You Are by Brene Brown.  I’m sure everyone has seen Brene, as her TED Talk on vulnerability is now famous.  She is truly a remarkable person, and I look forward to reading her longer book on this topic.  However, this slender book felt more like a pamphlet than a developed argument for living life with an open heart.

43.  The Book of Salt by Monique Truong.  This is a well-written piece in which nothing really happens.  The words are beautiful, but the plot is non-existant, and when you write a historical novel about Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas, you best bring it.  It felt more like a wonderful poem than a novel.

44.  Confessions of a Scary Mommy: An Honest and Irreverent Look at Motherhood: The Good, The Bad, and The Scary by Jill Smokler.  Smokler and I may not have much in common by way of parenting styles, but her Scary Mommy Manifesto that starts this book is effing brilliant.  I read the 12-step pledge aloud to my friends, who called out “Preach!”  However, you don’t have to get her book to read along with us, just click here.  I really can’t even pick my favorite one: they are all splendid and I wish I could hand out copies to all the mamas on the playground, before we even speak to each other.

45.  Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children (Miss Peregrine #1) by Ransom Riggs.  This book was riveting and creepy, just what I wanted from it, but nothing more.

46.  The Chronology of Water by Lidia Yuknavitch. When I was less than 100 pages in, I wrote to a friend, “I started a new memoir, and I already know it is changing me.”  Lidia calls to me to write more boldly, more raw, more real.  This memoir does not pull any punches and I daresay I fell in love with Ms. Yuknavitch.  Her new novel came out this month and I can’t wait to read it!

47.  A Hologram for the King by Dave Eggers.  Disappointing, but perhaps just may not have been for me.  I was not drawn in by the main character of a sad, ineffectual middle aged white dude.

48.  The Queen’s Lover by Francine du Plessix Gray.  This book was too confused about whether it’s a novel or historical text. I love historical fiction, but you actually have to write some prose in order for it to be considered fiction! You can’t just paste in letters and retelling of battles.  Skip it.

49.  Shadow of Night (All Souls Trilogy #2) by Deborah Harkness.  This novel, like the first one in the series, took a REALLY long time to get good. Once it did, it was riveting, but I was already mad that the exposition took forever, so I can only give it 3 Kit Cat Clocks. I think it is because the writer is a historian, so she wants to add all those history tidbits in there non-stop, but I read for the alchemy-witchy-lore stuff, not name-dropping of 16th century greats. The traditional love relationship between the two main characters continued to bother me. However, she does such lovely work on the smaller characters — Mr. Proctor, Gallowglass, Phoebe — it’s worth the struggle, I believe. The final book will be the verdict-maker.

50.  Why Be Happy When You Could be Normal? by Jeanette Winterson.  Raw, real, and so eloquent. The ending was a cliffhanger, but it was a wonderful read all around.  It gave me my favorite quote of the year so far, which I have been sharing left and right: ”I needed words because unhappy families are conspiracies of silence.  The one who breaks the silence is never forgiven.  He or she has to learn to forgive him or herself.”

51.  Gold by Chris Cleave.   I heartily enjoyed this novel. First of all, I read it at the perfect time, during my London Olympics obsession, and it got me thinking about the possible back stories for all the champions I was following on TV. Secondly, it was a great mix of tragedy and triumph, written with a quick wit and a remarkable depth. However, I found the character of Zoe difficult to relate to. Cleave wrote her as if she were male, but she does some things that no male could do, and responds as no female would. I’m trying not to give anything away — read the book and let me know if you agree!

52.  The Diary, Vol. 1: 1915-1919 by Virginia Woolf.  With great excitement, I purchased 5 volumes of Woolf’s diary at a used bookstore, only to find the first one a boring retelling of who was marrying whom and her quest to find the right place to live.  I have heard these volumes heat up, though, and I hope I’ll find the time to dive back in.

53.  In One Person by John Irving.  Like the main character in this novel, I grew up in New England having crushes on the wrong people, sublimating my desires in literature.  That is basically where our similarities end, but it was enough to keep me fully engrossed in this story, even when it takes it’s predictable Irving turn into disturbing despair.

53.  Gone, Girl by Gillian Flynn.  This was the big hit book of the summer, but novels in which I hate all the characters are not fun for me. The only person I was rooting for in this novel was Go, a minor character. It certainly has a riveting plot, but that’s about all there is to love in this one.

54.  How to Become a Famous Writer Before You’re Dead: Your Words in Print and Your Name in Lights by Ariel Gore.  Gore gives extremely practical, non-judgmental advice about writing, in a funny, approachable tone.  This book led me to the Lit Kitchen, where I am getting hands-on instruction from Ms. Gore and other amazing writers!

55. Yes, Chef: A Memoir by Marcus Samuelsson.  Samuelsson is such a fascinating person: Ethiopian born, Swedish adopted, highly ambitious and talented.  I really appreciated his perspectives on diversity – being an outsider gave him a really thoughtful platform to analyze race relations in several different countries.  All of the details about cooking were hard for me to follow, but I love that he doesn’t leave out his mistakes and failures in this book.  It is more than a celebrity memoir, more along the lines of the excellent Blood, Bones, and Butter by Gabrielle Hamilton.

56.  The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron.  Recommitting to this program, in which you learn to nurture your creativity in practical and emotional ways, has totally transformed my life this summer.  I feel so connected to my art, my family, and my creative spirit, which is at the soul of my being.  I recommend this 12-week adventure for anyone interested in making a commitment to their art, and willing to follow wherever that takes you … which is not always to easy places!

57.     The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky.  I’ve known about this book for a long time, because my friend from college Dana raves about it, and since I think she’s pretty smart I knew I wanted to check it out.  It took seeing the trailer for the movie to finally get it in front of my face.  This book was so sweet, honest, and captures that time in life when you’re trying to figure out your place in the world so well.  I’m going to give a copy to my favorite High School Freshmen.

58.  The Chaperone by Laura Moriarty.  This is an easy read, an interesting story that unfolds in a timely manner.  Kind of a safe book.  I felt that it could have ended when she stopped being “the chaperone” – it was the case of an author not wanting to let go of her characters and let us guess about what could have happened to them.  But it was a nice story, and leaves me wanting to know more about the real Louise Brooks.

In Progress:

Cinderella Ate My Daughter by Peggy Orenstein.  Now that my house has 100% more pink stuff in it after Olive’s birthday, I am feeling really ready to read this book.  I feel that the Princess Craze is right around the corner, and I want to be prepared for it when it hits.

On Deck:

The Casual Vacancy by JK Rowling.  In exactly one week, I will be uploading Rowling’s new book, which I have pre-ordered to my Nook, and finding out if our Harry Potter darling has still got it.  I CANNOT WAIT!

Breakdown (not including in-progress):

Novels: 32

Memoirs: 19

Non Fiction: Self-Help/How-To/Spirituality/Psychology:  8

So, the verdict is out.  I read 13 more books in my first year of parenting than in my second.  But it makes sense — once my daughter was down to one nap, and running around all the time instead of hanging on my boob, there was no time to have my nose in a book during the day.  I did, however, read about 1,455,678 children’s books, and at least 1,000 of those readings were of Where The Wild Things Are.

Reading to the tots at Rare Device, Olive front and center.

What are your favorite books you read this year, that I should put on next year’s list?  What books from this list piqued your interest?  Happy reading!

 

Too Vulnerable To Make Art? June 25, 2012

Filed under: Art,Artists,Blogging,Books,Personal,Writing — rheabette @ 7:25 am
Tags: , ,

I have at least 5 drafts of blog posts on my WordPress Dashboard. It’s not that I don’t have time to finish them, although I have been extremely busy this summer. It’s simply that this whole blog is about being vulnerable, and the past few weeks I have felt like I don’t have any skin, like it’s been peeled off and I’m walking around raw and red, ready to be flayed at every passing wind. When I write, I want it to feel like this:

However, lately it has felt just too scary to push “publish”, like the lightening coming off my limbs when I clack the keys will surely bounce back at me, jolting me with electric shocks. Making art is such an act of bravery. Creating and putting it out there is the scariest thing on earth, as your very soul is on the chopping block. Usually, I have no shortage of courage, as it is a muscle you build over time, and I’ve done enough things that terrify me to know when it’s a good scared that means “Keep going” and when it’s the kind of terror that’s telling you to get the fuck out of there. However, I’m really struggling these past few weeks. I write things, save them, and agonize over whether they are the thoughts I really want to put out into the world. I pick them apart and use parts for other entries, which I don’t post either. I can’t say I have Writer’s Block, because I’m writing every day, just not publishing any of it for the world to see.
I am starting The Artist’s Way today with several friends, and I’m hoping that will help me find the bravery I need to continue to be vulnerable on this blog and in my life, even when I feel particularly sensitive. The last time I did The Artist’s Way was 9 years ago, newly married and struggling to find my voice. Going through Julia Cameron’s model for freeing the artist within led to many incredible realizations, one of which led me to move to San Francisco! It was such a wonderful place for artists and social workers when we first moved here 8 years ago. My beloved city is changing incredibly quickly, and I find myself at another crossroads, unsure of where we will end up. So, it’s time to go back to The Artist’s Way, and make sure that the choices I’m making for my life and my family are coming from a place of creativity and joy, rather than fear.
Would you like to join me? You can get The Artist’s Way at any library, or, chances are, if you’re reading this blog, you’ve probably got a copy tucked away in a dusty bookshelf. Whether you’re ready to make that commitment or not, send me a little bravery, tucked in a sachet of healing petals. I don’t want my tough skin to grow back — I like living with my heart wide open. But I want to be able to create art from that place, even when it scares me.

 

Reviewing Anne Lamott’s new book: Some Assembly Required April 4, 2012

Filed under: Artists,Books,Christianity,Friendship,Mothers,Parenting — rheabette @ 7:57 am
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Ever wonder what happened to Sam Lamott, the best “character” in any of his mother Anne Lamott’s books? Well, he grew up, had a baby at the age of 19, and went to art school here in San Francisco.  My biggest question was answered in the preface — he has not resented his mother writing about him, in fact, calls it “the greatest gift anyone has given me”, and cherishes Operating Instructions as a special memory book of the first year of his life with her. He wanted to give his new son a similar experience, so he participated in the writing of his mom’s newest book: Some Assembly Required, a journal of her grandson’s first year.

It is mostly filled with the baby being an awesome baby, Anne taking lots of naps and making tons of meddling phone calls, and Sam stealing the show, as he always does. So, in other words, if you are very interested in babies, you may like this book, but if you are interested in the Lamott family, you will love this book. There are some total gems about parenting, like when she says it’s “like having a terminal illness, but in a good way.” Sam, wise beyond his years, says, “We as parents have the illusion that we make our kids stronger, but they make us stronger.”  Anne is the matriarch that I always want more from, a spiritual mother of many people of my generation, but one who refuses to go quietly into this role, choosing instead to expose her failings at every turn of the page.

Anne, looking like the queenly sage she and I both want her to be, in a photo by Mark Richards.

I have been reading Anne Lamott’s work since I was 19, finding comfort in her honesty about her shortcomings and her inevitable turning towards grace.  Over the past 12 years, however, I’ve been wanting her to… get a little better.  I’ve read time and again how self-centered, petty, and neurotic she is, and by this point, has all the church-going, therapy-having, and yoga-doing worked, like, even a little bit?!  I look up to her, and I want to see some forward movement, so I can have hope for a future in which all the hard work I am doing now pays off and I am less crazy.  I want her to like her body more at this point, to eat the damn chocolate cake already.  I want her to be less fearful of life and more aware of how awesome she is, not in a self-aggrandizing way, but with strong confidence.  The funny thing is, Anne wants this, too.  She is continually trying to be the person I want her to be, and failing comically at it.  But she still does manage to impart some wisdom along the way, in spite of herself.

At least Anne knows she’s insufferable, and she surrounds herself with fantastic friends, who do not take any of her bullshit. In one conversation, after which she has stormed out of Ash Wednesday service at her church because they changed the program and were doing things differently without asking her permission, she calls her Catholic friend Tom (who is a hilarious delight throughout the book, reminding me of my favorite gay priest friends) and asks, “Will you talk to me about Ash Wednesday?” He said, “Everyone hates you.” “I get so goddamn sick of myself.” “We all enjoy stories of your hysteria and shallowness.” And then he does talk to her about Ash Wednesday, buoying her up, even when she doesn’t deserve it, which is the gorgeous grace of our friends.

At one point, she writes about the concept of “radical becoming”, in the words of philosopher Henri Bergson, “reality as a state of radical becoming, constant flux, graspable only by intuition.” I guess I want more of that radical becoming from Anne herself, I want to see growth and for her to be some sagely crone of a woman now, dispensing advice about aging gracefully and how content she is now. It is absolutely ridiculous for me to want this. Anne is only human, and what keeps me coming back to her books is her intense honesty, so why am I tired of hearing it now? Is there a statute of limitations on listening to someone’s problems? Maybe she’s just more real than the spiritual leaders who seem to have it more together. In any event, I hope to hear more from Sam Lamott, even if I feel a little done with the neurotic tendencies of his mother. He is an entreprenuer, inventor, and artist, but hopefully he will find the time, as his child grows, to give us a little writing as well.

 

Talking to Your Kids About Race March 28, 2012

Filed under: Books,Parenting — rheabette @ 8:58 am
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In light of the Trayvon Martin tragedy, many people are asking, “What can I do to take action and prevent this from happening again?”  Well, a great place to start is in our own families, with our children.  About a month ago, I started reading a book called NurtureShock: New Thinking about Children, which is comprised of journalistic studies and articles about parenting. When I got to the chapter about race, I was dismayed that the point of the article was that parents, particularly white parents, do not talk to their kids about race, because they believe that if they don’t point out differences, their children won’t be racist. This is the “colorblind” approach, a truly naive way of looking at race, like when you are playing hide and go seek and you just close your eyes tight, thinking “if I can’t see them, they can’t see me, and I won’t get caught.”  It is also a very privileged approach, because the white families can choose not to have the hard conversations with their kids about race, while parents of kids of color have to tell their children to be careful everywhere they go, even when they are just walking to the store to buy candy.

The study found that if white parents did talk to their kids about race, they were waiting until the children were around 10 years old, and by that time, the brain has already made distinctions and attached meaning to them. The parents were horrified to see the results of their kids’ answers to questions such as, “Do your parents like black people?” The kids said no, as they had never heard their parents say anything about black people, but had heard a lot of negative things about black folks in the culture. There were also many families that dropped out of the study when they realized it would involve them talking directly to their kids about race.  These were not bigoted, racist people, but they are people that truly believe that if we ignore this issue, it will go away.

My psychotherapy training taught me that when you don’t discuss something with a kid that they can see with their own eyes, the children think it is a secret, and therefore shameful. This is like when parents get divorced, and are shocked to learn that the kids think it is because they were bad kids, instead of something that occured between their parents. Left to their own devices, a child’s brain will separate people into categories, attach meaning to them, and start to live out their lives that way. And if you don’t teach them by talking about it in your family, they will learn from the culture at large. I think we are all seeing, this week, how dangerous that is. At worst, you get a person who is willing to kill a child because they feel threatened by the color of their skin. But the more insidious responses are from all the folks who have been reluctant to say that this is racial profiling, and want to continue living in a world where white privilege is upheld as the norm.

I’m not judging you if you have been unwittingly doing this. I’m just calling to you imagine what it would be like if you started talking about race, first with your partner, your friends, me, your therapist, and then, with your children. It will take some messiness, some starts and stops, some missteps and personal realizations. My favorite part of the study in NurtureShock was when a mom just vaguely told her kid all the time, “We’re all equal!” Then finally one day the child asked, “Mom, what’s Equal?”

I’m no pro at this — sure, I talk about race all the time with my husband and family, but I am a new parent and I could use some guidance myself. So, I asked several of the parents I know and trust, trying to get an idea of how they talk to their kids about race. Some people I asked said they don’t really discuss it, for various reasons. One family, in which the parents are both from non-U.S. countries, said they talk more about national identity and ethnicity, rather than race, which makes sense for their family.  She talks to her son about how mama is Japanese, papa is Indian, and he is Japanese and Indian.  My questions to her about race made her wonder if race is a construct that Americans think about more than non-Americans.  It is certainly one we need to work on as Americans, so let’s dig in.

One of the first people I asked was my friend Michele, who I know from dance class, but also from the Multiethnic Playgroup she and I are a part of.

Michele, Wayne, Sadie & Sully

When I asked Michele to define her family’s the racial/ethnic background, she said: “my husband Wayne is white, I’m Black/Chinese/Jewish(white), so our kids are all of that and a bag of chips!”  She talks to her kids about race.  At first, she said, “I was gonna take the route of waiting until Sully brought it up. The reason is, when I was growing up, I couldn’t remember a time when I wasn’t race conscious. From my mother and her family it was framed by ‘you know how white people are…’ or other negative perceptions. With my father’s family, (especially my grandparents) there was always anomosity towards my mom and I’m sure race was a part of that. Or they ask me things about Black people, because of course I’m the national spokesperson for all African Americans.
Anyway, I didn’t want my bullshit fucking up Sully being able to form his own views. I was also curious when he would notice or say something about my mom (his Nana) being black.
Anyway, Wayne and I went to this great psychologist, Loma Flowers, that runs a program called Equilibrium Dynamics. She is either light skinned African-American or mixed. We were seeking help with behavior for Sully, and she asked us how we were dealing with being a multi cultural family. We said we didn’t bring it up, and she suggested we be the ones to frame things for our kids. She gave the example of her son coming home asking ‘What’s a nigger Mommy?’  She said, why do you want to know? He said, so and so called me one at school and he got into a lot of trouble.

Anyway, she helped us to frame things just by talking about our family. And saying we are a multicultural family, and we have people with lots of different skin colors, etc. Its been nice giving Sully some vocabulary to use, and now he often will say, so and so has brown skin like you Mommy, or so and so has light skin like me.

When I read Nurture Shock, I was surprised that people waited so long to bring up the topic, but I didn’t want to do it in a bad way. One thing that happened with Wayne and I was we let Sully watch the Wiz, and he’s also seen the Wizard of Oz. Sully was asking something about which movie was which, and I said, the Wiz has the black people, and the Wizard of Oz had the white people.  My intention was to state facts, but Wayne felt like I was excluding white people from watching/appreciating the Wiz and vice versa with the Wizard of Oz. (Funnily enough, growing up, I thought the Wiz was the Wizard of Oz, and I was always confused seeing a white Dorothy, because I kept thinking, she was not in the movie).”

So, as Michele’s story tells, talking to your kids about race is not always a straight road — there are twists and turns.  The important thing is giving your children a vocabulary for what they already see.  If they have lots of friends of different races, that’s great!  But they can see that they are different from their friends, and that makes them wonder, “Am I okay?”  It is your job to let them know that it is normal to notice differences, and that they are okay.  In fact, they are great!  Michele and I dance to a song in class that says, “If everybody looked the same, we’d get tired of looking at each other.”

The second person I asked was my own sister, because I knew for certain she talks to her kids about race, because I’ve heard it, and admired how she handled an outspoken and inquisitive child!  She and her husband are both white, with European/North American ancestry.

Cousins: Molly’s son Liam, my daughter Olive, and Molly’s daughter Teagan.

Me: Do you talk to your children about race?
Molly: Yes, I think it’s critical to discuss race with my kids. First of all, because they need to see that race is a form of difference but it doesn’t make another kid or parent strange or any better or worse. It’s okay to notice difference, but not to treat people differently.

Me: How do you discuss it with them?
Molly: Liam asked very early (maybe 2 years old?) about why some people (his uncle, his cousin, the guy walking down the street) have “brown faces”. He asked me when I was pregnant with Teagan if she was going to have a dark face or a light face. We discuss the kids at his school and his daycare, and he notes which kids have dark/brown faces as a descriptor. One time he did horrify me because he said he “didn’t like the dark-faced kids,” but he was talking about a specific couple of big kids at his previous daycare whom he thought were mean. He’s never said anything like that since. He thinks his cousin Olive is really pretty. He did ask if Rhea’s next baby would have a light face, though! :)

Me: Do you wait for him to bring it up, or do you raise the topic?  I guess you never have to wait long, with my curious nephew!

Molly: I wait for him to bring it up, but I do try to get him to talk about it more if he starts, so that we can be open and I can start to get him used to social construction and ideas like that from me. TV does help, because I point out things like, “Look. That’s our president.” and we can talk about him in a way that seems normal.

Me: Does this differ from the ways race was or was not discussed in your own household, growing up, and/or in your partner’s household?
I don’t think it differs that much, except I don’t think a conscious effort was made in my house to discuss race until we were much older. I certainly don’t make the kind of jokes my dad made about race in our house!

Me:What do you hope these conversations will yield for your child and your family?
Molly: I want my children to know that race is socially constructed and yet it is a marker of difference that is meaningful and linked with oppression. I want them to know that race has a very loaded history, and yet that they can transform that in their generation somewhat. I would like my children to be the ones who reach out to anyone and everyone, and who see it as totally normal to have people of color as relatives, friends, teachers, religious leaders, bosses, etc. I think Liam has a really healthy approach to racial difference right now, so hopefully that will continue.

When I got Molly’s answers to my questions, I couldn’t help but feel so lucky to have her as a model for me as a parent and as a person.  It has been really great to watch Liam develop a nuanced understanding of racial/ethnic differences, and he is only 4!

The other person I knew I had to ask was Olive’s godmother, my cousin from my husband’s side, Fabienne, who I introduced in my last post.  She is a constant source of inspiration, parenting advice, and real talk for me.  I hope you’ll appreciate her perspective as well.

Fabienne, Jean Luc, Soraya and Brent.

Me: Do you talk to your children about race?

Fabienne: Yes, I do. My children are 6.5 and 4, and race has always been a natural conversation in our home. My husband is white and from North Carolina, and I am black and from Haiti. My children have very light skin and my son, in particular, used to refer to his skin as white. It was important to me that he understand that he is biracial, even though he could easily “pass.” My daugther, on the other hand always asks why she can’t be more brown like I am.

Me: How do you discuss it with them?

Fabienne: Up until this point, our conversations about race have been factual: why do people have different color skin? Because of a chemical called melatonin. (We also read books from this perspective). Why do the kids have light skin, and I have brown skin, and their father has even lighter skin than they do? Because of genes, and mixing, and because there was mixing in my family too….those kinds of conversations. Until yesterday. I was bawling in my kitchen because something or other made me think of Trayvon Martin, and my son walked in and wanted to know why I was so upset. So I told him. I told him it was because this boy, this black boy, was killed by a white man even though he did nothing at all. And I said that some people think that black and brown people are bad, and steal things, and are dangerous JUST because they are black or brown. No other reason. My son looked like I had just told him some people believe trees walk at night. His face was a puzzle—who in the world would believe something so stupid? I would like to know the answer to that question myself.

Me: Do you wait for them to bring it up, or do you raise the topic?

Fabienne: It goes both ways in our household.

Me: Does this differ from the ways race was or was not discussed in your own household, growing up, and/or in your partner’s household?

Fabienne: No, it was the same for both my partner and I in our childhood households.

Me: What do you hope these conversations will yield for your children and your family?

Fabienne: Although I believe that racial categories are socially constructed, differences in the way people look are not. I want my children to feel comfortable noticing and asking about differences rather than fearing them or feeling confused about them. I think fear of difference and silence around it is toxic. I refuse to allow that kind of poison in my home, and I will not be complicit in the project of white supremacy, which is to normalize whiteness and exoticize, demonize, and “other” anything else.

All of these parents have young kids, and that is when it is important to start the conversation, because from children’s development standpoint, you may miss your window if you wait until the 3rd grade or later.  If you are still not convinced, and really believe it is better to leave all discussions of race alone, in the hopes that your kids will grow up without seeing race, I urge you to do more research.  Read the chapter in NurtureShock, take a critical eye to the studies.  But if you have read this today and you are interested in furthering the discussion about talking to your kids about race, leave me a comment and let me know how you speak to your kids about race — we need to share these stories, to normalize the discourse!

 

Top 10 Reasons Mindy Kaling and I Should be Friends Forever January 3, 2012

Filed under: Books,Friendship,Inspiration,Marriage,Pop Culture,TV — rheabette @ 12:36 pm
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Oftentimes I read a book and think, “I’d like to be friends with that person.”  Sometimes I get so attached that I think I actually AM that person’s friend, like when I think “How’s Claire doing?  Haven’t heard from her in a while.” and then I remember she just wrote a book I liked, I don’t know her from Adam.  But usually I read a rad book but just think, “that was great.  I will read more from this author, if they write more.”  and leave it at that.  However, the experience of reading Mindy Kaling’s Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns)  just made me feel like she and I need to be friends, and it would be such a mutual win-win.  Here’s why:

1. I fill out a gold spandex music video costume much better than Ellie Kemper. 

Mindy is friends with her co-star on The Office, Ellie Kemper, and that is great, as Ellie is hilarious and they seem to have a lot of fun together.  But my overall feeling from reading Mindy’s book is that she has been spending way too much time with skinny gals and she needs some thick chicks like me around her.  The part in her book where she cries in the bathroom stall because she’s at the photo shoot (ironically for People’s Most Beautiful issue) and all they have are size 0 dresses just about broke my heart.  She wonders if she should just lose 20 pounds so these things don’t keep happening to her, and I want to take her by the shoulders and say, “No!  You are so damn perfect just as you are!  It’s insanity that those dipshits only brought dresses for mannequins!  Eat a sub and enjoy life!  You’re holding it down on network TV as a hot, normally-curvy woman, and you must continue.”  A huge part of her book is how she feels about her weight which I think is actually pretty awesome because people don’t talk about that stuff openly, but overall my feeling was, “Chubby?!  Seriously?  Girl, you just need to spend more time out of L.A., in the company of ladies who can brunch you under the table.  Okay that sounded dirty but you get my drift.  Be my bud and we’ll swap clothes (we’re the same damn size and we both love fashion!!) and eat well.”  I’m not hating on skinny ladies, I’m just saying Mindy needs some girls with booty like me to round out (you see what I did there?) her friend group.

2. I’m a Gentile and I’m Totally Interested in Hearing More about Your Mom.

Obviously I need to know more about why she choose the "sensitive bowl cut bangs" look for you, but clearly she is an accomplished bedazzler of vests and that leaves me wanting more.

Mindy bemoans the fact that since all her friends are Jewish guys, she never feels heard when she gushes about her mom.  Their eyes glaze over and they start to think about how awesome their own mom is, and don’t really believe Mindy’s mom could ever be as cool as theirs.  And Mindy’s mom sounds friggen amazing — she’s a doctor, a great cook, and in a kick-ass long-term marriage.  I’m Irish.  We’re fiercely loyal to our Mas but we don’t talk about them much.  So Minds, gab on about your incredible mother, and I’ll ooh and ahh and really mean it.  She’s clearly fascinating.

3.  My Husband and I Are Such Pals

In her chapter entitled “Married People Need To Step It Up” Mindy calls for more married couples who are friends and lovers at the same time.  Well, Joel and I are 11 years in to our relationship, and we still have fun everywhere we go.  We make songs together under the name Him Downstairs — usually we just record them, laugh, and never let them see the light of day, but we are actually performing some of them on February 4th at Queens Nails in SF.  Want to come see us in action?  It’s going to be a weird futuristic performance with awesome costumes and if you showed up it would be like Christmas in Africa.  But I digress.  The most important part of a marriage is the friendship, because shit gets real in long-term love, and you need someone you can crack up with even when you’re late on rent, sleep-deprived and the sink is full of very un-sexy dishes.  It just may be time to watch a marathon of Sons of Anarchy and binge on corner store treats to forget your troubles together.  On New Year’s Eve we went to fun party, but left early to ring in the new year alone together, because it’s just more fun that way.  We have ridiculous un-cutesy nicknames for each other — first and foremost of which is “Bines”.  Oddly enough, we somehow managed to adopt the surname of an RA from our college as our pet name for one another, to the point where our friends call us both Bines and have no idea why or where it originated.  Mystery solved?  I feel sad for your friend whose marriage is only hard work, but I do have to admit that it is quite a bit of work, some of the time.  You do have to put in the long processing hours when you’d rather be painting your toenails, you do have to go couples therapy every few years for a tune-up, you do have to compromise and say you’re sorry all the time.  But it is worth it, especially if you end up with someone who knows your airplane drink order (gingerale and cranberry) by heart and will stay up late trying to beat a video game with you.  So, we do exist, Mindy, the married couples who are also friends and call each other by their last names (I do it even though we have the same last name, which can get confusing) and I think you’d like to have a picnic with us and watch us give each other shit about whose culture has better food.  It would warm the cockles of your commitment-craving heart.

4. I Could Teach You Some Fly Dance Moves

The piece about your dance audition for Bombay Dreams had me laughing so hard my husband kept asking, “What’s wrong?  Are you okay?”   So I’m glad I got that out of my system before we go out dancing together, which we will clearly do next week.  I will help you learn how to shake your mane in a classy way that also keeps you from feeling self-conscious because you don’t have to look at your dance partner.  I won’t make you learn “the box step” or shame you for not know what a ball-change is.  Just stick with me, we’ll rock out together.  Also, I always know how to light up a Karaoke bar, never choosing a lame crooner, always a party-starter or interesting non-sequiter, so I won’t let you down at our post-party in Koreatown.

5. All Your Best Friend Rights and Responsibilities Make Perfect Sense to Me

I considered printing them out for potential BFFs in the future.  But then I realized I just needed to make you my BFF, and my work would be done.  Swapping wardrobes?  Check (see #1: I know you can’t share clothes with Jocelyn and Brenda they way we could).  Sleeping in the same bed?  Obvi.  Honesty yet gentleness about appearance?  I got you.  People call me Emily Blunt, I’m so truthful.  But I will be nice, I promise.  And all the rest, too, especially the ones about taking care of one another and being considerate — I’m great at reciprocal friendships, for realz.

You dressed up for our all-night gal-pal gab fest? Oh Mindy, you shouldn't have.

6. Your List of Favorite Eleven Moments in Comedy is Classic and Dead-on

I have seen all of them, and we can watch them over and over and laugh while eating freshly popped popcorn and texting Beyonce.  I love that you included the Racial Draft sketch.  But I’d have to add Bernie Mac’s bit in The Original Kings of Comedy and I hope you’ll agree it will make a nice baker’s dozen for your list.

7. I Think We Have The Same Sexual Values

I don’t think it’s prudish or weird that you aren’t into one-night stands and don’t understand hooking up.  I totally believe in monogamy as well and it makes me sad when I read those crazy articles about how culture is changing and no one wants commitment anymore.  And I would never ditch you for Burning Man, which I think fits into this category.

8. I am the Queen of Irish Exits and Will Never Shame You For Using Them at Will.

In fact, I will cover for you like it’s nobody’s business.  When people ask, “Where’s Mindy?”  I’ll reply, oh, she had to go check on her car.  It was acting really weird on the way over, so she’s just making sure it will still run later, much later, when she properly says goodbye to each of you at the end of the party.  In fact, maybe I should go see if she needs this wrench I keep in my purse for such occasions…”  at which point I would do an Irish Exit of my own and text you to see if you want to meet up to eat spicy curly fries and talk about why that party was so lame.  In grad school I was so infamous for leaving without telling anyone that if I started getting antsy my friend Jason would say “Goodbye Rhea.  Just go.”

9.  I have seen about as many episodes of The Office as Evan Lieberman

So, I’m not some crazy stalker who would be saying “That’s what she said” after everything you say, or would just want to be introduced to your famous friends. However, unlike Evan, I would never bail on you via text, with some lame “I’m feeling under the weather frowny face” excuse.  In fact, as I compile this list, I realize a lot of it is reassuring you that I won’t flake out on you.  I know there’s a lot of woo-woo types in California, but the only flakey thing about me is my delicious pie crust.

10. Every Friendship Needs Some Drama

POSSIBLE POINTS OF CONTENTION: Of course I follow you on Twitter (I may be an over-worked mom but I find time for the things that matter) and it appears that you are a big fan of one Ms. Deschanel.  Well, in case you haven’t heard, she is my nemesis so the two of you could not be buds.  But I do concede that the blog she’s a co-founder of, Hello Giggles, is kickass even though that name makes me want to throw up the egg and cheese sandwich I had for elevenses.  Also, would you be willing to do the lionshare of the travel for this long-distance friendship?  I’m not a hater but I don’t adore L.A.  Wouldn’t you rather come see me in the lovely Bay-to-the-A?  After all, you are my new …

 

Lifestyles of the Broke and Fabulous: Ten Tips to Survive and Thrive For Less December 20, 2011

Filed under: Artists,Books,Christianity,Community,Fashion,Parenting,San Francisco — rheabette @ 2:46 pm
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Perhaps you’ve been reading this blog and thinking, “Hey wait, you can’t be as poor as you say you are.  You live in the 2nd most expensive city in the world.”  And to that I say, “Touche.” and “Exactly.”  Surviving in this Never-Never Land that calls itself a city is an art that over the past 8 years I have been trying to master.  It is completely exhausting but the rewards are the almost constant experiences of beauty all around, so I’m going to keep running this marathon as long as I can, because the views are amazing.  Here are some sneaky tips I’ve used along the way so far:

1. Clip & Collect: Do y’all know those Bed, Bath & Beyond coupons, that come in the mail so often you’ve considered wallpapering your apartment with them?  Yeah, those shits don’t expire.  They say they do, right there on each one is an expiration date, but save ‘em up, bring ‘em in, and watch the price of that wet-vac go down, down down.  What we do is collect them for ages then bring them in and use them all in one-fell-swoop, buying all the crap we’ve gone without all damn year.  For instance, right now here is a list of the things that have broken/gotten ruined in our house that we are too poor to replace: the toaster, bath mat, mop, ironing board, set of wine glasses, and teapot.

2. Live Simply: Of course we don’t do such luxuries as pedicures, vacations, and air conditioning.  However, there are also a boatload of things we consider “luxuries” that other people consider necessities: smart phones, cable, a house, a car, and juice.  That’s right, juice is a luxury in this home.  Enjoy your tap water, luckily in SF it comes from Hetch Hetchy and tastes delicious.

3. Work that Transit System: If you live in a 2 person household, and you can only afford one monthly fast pass, one person uses it all month, then, on the first, gives the old one to the other person, who gets free bus fare for the next 3 days.  That doesn’t work on BART, just MUNI — you get to use the old pass for 3 days of the new month.  If you are poor, you’re thinking “Yeah, No doi.  Everyone does that.”  If you are rich, you’re thinking “Ew.  The bus.”  But if you’re new to SF and are somewhere in the middle, you’re thinking “The gross bus could be free 3 days a week and then maybe I wouldn’t mind so much when someone sits next to me with a live chicken in a plastic bag, because I didn’t pay to ride 20 bumpy blocks to the park.”  In that case, you’re welcome.

4. Safety First: The next time you need a pair of glasses, you may be looking at all the designer ones they put out, dismayed at the price tags for nerdy-looking boxy pieces of plastic to wear on your face.  In such a situation, ask for where they keep the safety glasses.  I recently had to get glasses, and instead of paying $300 for fancy-pants frames that would probably only have made me look more like Zooey D., I got safety glasses, which are durable (important when you have a 15-month old who says “No!” and knocks the glasses off your face every time you wear them) and sort-of-chic, especially when you have to do a whole bunch of welding.  And they were $10, including a 2-year warrantee!

5. Book It: I estimate that I have saved $884 this year by utilizing my public library.  They have this great feature where you can look up books online, request them, and have them shipped to the library closest to you.  Then you go and pick them up from a special area by the front door, check them out yourself, and read to your heart’s content.  What I like to do is browse my local bookstore, picking up & buying the tomes I have to own forever, but making a list of the ones I just want to try out.  Then I go home, request them from the SFPL, and await my treasures.  It’s the closest thing to Netflix for books out there, and I feel like I’m getting a present every time I get the email saying “your books are in, come and get ‘em.”  Also, they have Family Passes to all sorts of places in SF, you can check them out like a book and go to the Zeum, the Zoo, the Academy of Sciences, and the like.  How do you think Olive got to see the giraffes this year?  The public library saved that day of course.

6. Community Culture: Before we had Olive, we spent over three years living in community with some awesome folks, in a huge 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom apartment with a back patio, roof access, a washer/dryer and a dishwasher.  Living with roommates is pretty much the only way you can live in a place in SF that is big enough to ever throw a party.  And the parties we would have… they were so epic that we would read about them the next day on the internet.  We would look around and realize we only knew a quarter of the people there.  I met people at those parties that were in my own house that I cherish as friends to this day.  The costumes, the dancing, the gossipy hook-ups — it is all legend now, as we live in a place where we can’t even sit 4 people at the dinner table.  Anyway, as long as you can, live in community.  Then, when you can’t, join a church or other spiritual community.  This will provide you with a venue for your tamer events, like birthday parties and baby showers, and, more importantly, a whole bunch of people willing to invest in you on a heart level, who care about your soul and your living situation.  Plus, if you’re lucky, they’ll be great cooks and you’ll get a free meal once a week at the delicious potlucks they organize. I’m not saying that you should join a church for the stuff you get being a part of one.  I’m simply saying that if you want to live in an expensive city but you don’t make bank, you’re going to need other people in order to do it.  That brings me to my next suggestion:

7. No Shame In Your Game: If someone offers you something, something you really want and could use, say yes.  Practice with me now, “I accept.”  There are a lot of people in this town that make a lot of money, mostly in the tech industry, and are also incredibly generous.  They don’t use their money for evil, they are kind-hearted and as baffled as the next person as to why they make so much more sitting at a computer than they would teaching children in a classroom.  Often, they will offer to buy you a meal, or take you to a show, or give you a ride to the beach.  This is not your moment to be a martyr, to be prideful or embarrassed.  It is the time to give them a chance to use their money how they want to, and to promise to pay it forward, if you ever find yourself in the situation to do so.  When I look around my bedroom, I see that almost all our furniture was handed down by kind souls who couldn’t use it anymore.  They are lovely pieces, and I am grateful for them.  They make me think of the people who gifted them to us, every time I use them.  Wouldn’t you rather think of your friend Doris than your buddy IKEA when you use your dresser?  I thought so.  So say yes.

8. Charming Child = Free Babysitting:  Our kid is wicked cute and likeable.  Therefore, folks line up to hang out with her.  We have yet to have paid a babysitter for a date night.  Our friends love our child and find her more entertaining than a night at home watching sitcoms.  So, do your best to have a cute kid, and rad friends, and you’re golden.

9. The Swap Economy: For six years, I swapped massages for Pilates classes with a wonderful massage therapist who became a close friend.  It was a win-win: I got body therapy every other week, she got toned abs with a boomin’ soundtrack.  If there’s something you want in your life — homemade jam, haircuts, whatever — see if there’s someone that would swap for a similar good that you are talented at.  Paint pictures for roller skating lessons.  Grow vegetables for knitted scarves.  Make a friend in the meantime.

10. Don’t Skimp Where It Counts: There are two things we shell out for, gladly.  One is childcare.  I grew up going to whatever daycare my parents could afford, and hated a good part of my childhood summers as a result.  Therefore, we have been doing a nanny share with a wonderful nanny who gives our child the best care possible, and we get another family to bond with.  The other thing we have tried to cut corners with and have just submitted to coughing up hecka cash for is coffee.  SF has some of the best roasters in the country, and once you’ve had Blue Bottle or Philz you simply can’t go back to Folgers in your cup.  So we pay for it, and love every damn sip.

As I am about to be even poorer than I was before, I am gladly accepting your tips in the comments section.  How do you save money and manage to look so good, dammit?  Fill me in, I’m dying to know.

 

 

Virtual Book Club: The Screwtape Letters & La Seduction October 31, 2011

Filed under: Books,Christianity — rheabette @ 3:03 pm
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Last week, I was on my way to Potluck/Book Club when Olive & I had our great fall.  So my thoughts while I was sitting on the floor of the apartment building trying to catch my breath and not pass out were thus: “Is Olive okay?  Dang, I am dizzy.  Shoot, I guess I sped re-read The Screwtape Letters for nothing!”  But, much later, I had the thought of  writing my response to the book here, and having all of you weigh in on it, opening the “Book Club” to any who choose to read this blog.  Of course, those of you that actually made it there that night can let me know if any salient points were made as well.

I assume many of you have  read The Screwtape Letters long ago, as I did, since it is common reading for Confirmands and other young people interested in Christian Spirituality.  So the invitation to re-read it was slightly disconcerting, as it is triggering for me to revisit the constricting version of spirituality I was espousing in my late teens.  However, knowing that C.S. Lewis was actually an Anglican who the Evangelicals have adopted as their own has made me wonder if I could read it with a new lens now.

First off, I was struck by a quote in the preface that I found very pertinent to the Occupy Wall Street protests: “The greatest evil is not now done in those sordid ‘dens of crime’ that Dickens loved to paint. It is not done even in concentration camps and labour camps. In those we see its final result. But it is conceived and ordered (moved, seconded, carried, and minuted) in clean, carpeted, warmed, and well-lighted offices, by quiet men with white collars and cut fingernails and smooth-shaven cheeks who do not need to raise their voice. Hence, naturally enough, my symbol for Hell is something like the bureaucracy of a police state or the offices of a thoroughly nasty business concern (p. x).” So, Lewis shapes his fictional account of a senior devil writing to his apprentice as if it were, basically, a bank or an advertising firm. We could sit here and talk about whether demons exist or not (Lewis does believe in them, I don’t), but I found it more useful to think of his demons as metaphors and see what I can glean from them about human nature.

What struck me most about this book this time around is what Lewis says about pleasure, perhaps because it coincides neatly with the premise of the other book I read last week, Eliane Sciolino’s La Seduction: How the French Play the Game of Life.  Screwtape instructs his protege to try to influence his human “patient” to spend his days doing neither what he ought or he liked, but basically to exist in a Matrix-like hum of dreary gratification of needs.

The man himself, enjoying a pipe, because he wants to, dammit.

The senior demon castigates his pupil for allowing his patient to “read a book he actually enjoyed, because he enjoyed it and not in order to make clever remarks about it to his new friends (p. 58).”  Of course I saw the irony, as I was reading this book as an assignment for a book club, but I do spend my fair amount of time reading books I enjoy that other people may consider ridiculous.  Screwtape counsels, “You should always try to make the patient abandon the people or food or books he really likes in favour of the ‘best’ people, the ‘right’ food, the ‘important’ books.”  He finds it dangerous for the human to be experiencing real pleasure or real pain, as it is the intensity of reality that guides people to seek out God.

You may be wondering, how on earth does an explicitly Christian book like The Screwtape Letters coincide with the very worldly-titled La Seduction?  The place that they connect is the search for true pleasure, and that it is not just “nice to have”, it is a way of living life to the fullest.  Sciolino, an American journalist living in Paris, writes about how all of French culture is wrapped around the principle of seduction, which includes sex but is not synonymous with it, since it expands to include all kinds of pleasure, especially interpersonal relationships of all kinds.

I am finding in my own life that the people I continue to have issues with are folks who don’t seem to enjoy their life — they simply do what they think they should, and are therefore very angry with people like me who do not follow their prescribed rules, and, worse yet, seem to be having a good time doing it.  These are people who cannot appreciate a colorful dress, a rich cupcake, or a gallows-humour type of joke.  They think they know what is “best” for everyone, and that they need to “help” others by letting them know their concerns.  In other words, controlling sons of bitches.

No one likes to be told what to do, but I am finding that it goes deeper than that for me.  People who are not only controlling of others but also lead intensely controlled, rather drab lives themselves will never understand me.  I will never win them over with, as Sciolino calls it “a charm offensive”.  I am realizing that I need to seek out people who strive to enjoy life, in whatever package they come in.  When I am looking for someone to be friends with, or collaborate on a project with, I should look less at their acheivements and stated interests and more on whether they would laugh at a particularly baudy joke or if I thought they were the kind of person I could invite over to watch the latest Twilight movie and eat a carton of salted caramel ice cream.  If we went out to an outdoor restaurant, and a band started playing, would they get up and dance with me, even if they didn’t know the steps?  And it’s not just about finding people are “more like me”.  It’s about feeling alive in the presence of another, the true community of being with someone else who is living out loud, that brings me closer to the divine.

All in all, the book La Seduction was very interesting, because Sciolino brings a journalistic eye to French culture, not just an “ooh-la-la” Francophile perspective.  She is critiquing the culture along with pointing out the divine elements of it.  So, I present you with the steps I would need to take to be more like a French woman, based on Sciolino’s book.

How to be More French

Step 1: Pay more attention to process than result.  As a person who was once evoquivically a no-nonsense New Englander and is now a West Coast Expressive Arts therapist, this sounds good to me.  But it requires a certain amount of patience that I don’t always have.  I am constantly having to tell myself to “slow down, enjoy the present moment, this is your life!” when I just want to run out the door to the next thing.  The French, as well as C.S. Lewis, are all about the present.  Screwtape calls it “the point at which time touches eternity (p.68).”

Step 2: Conceal to reveal.  Arielle Dombasle tells Sciolino never to be nude in front of her husband.  “You shouldn’t.  Or he won’t buy you lunch.”  The French value of seduction is never casual.  You don’t lay it all out there like Snooki or even that overwhelmingly friendly person we all know.  It is considered literally an act of violence to be indiscriminately overpowering, with your smile, your perfume, your decolletage.  It must be skillful, in order to be fun.

Step 3: Seek beauty.  In architecture (the Eiffel Tower is thought of as a beautiful woman), in humans, in daily life.  Easy.  I truly believe that in creating and admiring beauty we are fulfilling our roles as co-creators with God/Goddess.

Let's be honest. If I went to France, I'd probably just read, albeit in a beautiful place!

Step 4: Engage in intellectual foreplay.  This one is hard in the states — debates very easily turn into nasty struggles between right and wrong.  In our current culture, few people are enjoying the clash of ideas, they are just shouting louder and louder to be heard, in the hopes of being affirmed.  That’s why I find the Occupy Wall Street movement so interesting — it’s a lot of question raising rather than answer giving.  The debates around it have often been “But what is the RESULT going to be?”  We could learn something from the way the French can enjoy conflicting ideas and still leave the conversation with everyone’s dignity in tact.  I confess I am not great at this one.  I tend to bow out if I feel I’m not being listened to, rather than find a new way to convince the other to see another side.

Step 5: If you get catcalled in the street, let it make your day!  It is a sign of approval and playfulness in France, but considered rude and sexist here.  Another difficult one — I guess it all depends on context.  There is a big difference between a person saying “You look lovely, you are ravishing”, and the guy who called me “Sexy Ass” yesterday.  Perhaps the difference is in one, you keep your personhood, and an adjective is added to it, and in the other, you are being named as an object.

Step 6: Respect history.  I get this one, and French culture has a legacy of creating fine things that is something to be admired.  But as a true American I love progress and change, and I don’t like things that just harken back to “the good old days” because those days were actually quite bad for anyone non-white, non-male, non-heterosexual.  Joel and I have a special song we sing for when things are “Old-timey”, as is a very fashionable trend in San Francisco right now.  I don’t mind celebrating the past, but it needs to be in a context of justice.  Sciolino is scathing in how she points out ways France needs to treat their citizens of color better, and I appreciate that very much.

Step 7: If your husband cheats on you, celebrate his virility!  I don’t think I would ever find myself “lucky” to be with a “sexually potent” cheating man.  I truly believe in fidelity.  It is not a very popular view in this day and age, but it is not coming from a place of being a prude.  I actually believe that commitment deepens one’s experience of life, that important lessons are learned over time in a committed sexual relationship with one partner that cannot be learned any other way.  Not everyone will have such a relationship, and that doesn’t mean they will live a bad life.  But I don’t believe men need a longer sexual leash, I think they need meaningful experiences of intimacy.  Sciolino condemns pornography as “anti-seduction”, and it fits into Lewis’s value of pleasure AND reality.  So, this is a complicated matter, but I don’t think I would enjoy all of the sexual mores of French life.

Step 8: Have a gastronomic orgasm.  The French actually enjoy their food, and this is probably why they eat less of it.  This one, I really do want to take on.  Food is about nourishment, and I think there are ways you can feed yourself healthily and experience a certain amount of pleasure each time you eat. The body and the soul are not disconnected, and that is why so many people have food hang-ups.  They try to either eat solely to fill their body’s needs, or their souls.  The balance is really hard, but I am going to try it more consciously.

And that is my greatest take-away from both of these books.  I am going to seek true pleasure, based in reality, and leave behind the things I think I “should” be doing.  I think more life energy will flow from me this way, and I will actually be more effective in what I am trying to do.  This may look odd to you — it will not mean gorging myself in any manner of hedonistic form, but it could mean staying in and reading all night, allowing myself to fully enjoy one glass of red wine and 6 macrons.

Please weigh in in the comments on your thoughts on The Screwtape Letters, and either La Seduction if you’ve read it or the outline I gave above, if you’ve not.  What do you think about my premise of the importance of true pleasure?  Virtual book club, commence!

 

Happy Bullshit: In which I read the newest celebrity memoirs, so you don’t have to. October 11, 2011

Filed under: Books,Mothers,Parenting — rheabette @ 10:43 am
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There seems to be a trend in celebrity memoirs titling, in which a publishing maven discovered, “If we take something bad, like a ‘mess’, or ‘catastrophe’, but we put the word HAPPY in front of it, then everyone will think — ‘she’s just like us, she’s had her knocks’ but also ‘now she’s HAPPY so it’s all okay!”  Hence, Punky Brewster‘s parenting memoir, Happy Chaos, and Jane Lynch‘s memoir, Happy Accidents.  Of course I’ve read both of them recently.  Since I spend a lot of time reading heavy theology books or depressing novels, I like to lighten the mood sometimes with these pithy celebrity memoirs.  Sometimes it’s a score, like Tina Fey’s Bossypants, and sometimes it’s a total fail, like Betty White’s If You Ask Me.

"Ew, Rhea St. Julien why you such a hater?" I hate because I love, Punky.

Soleil Moon Frye (AKA Punky)’s Happy Chaos was really just one step up from spending an hour reading a Twitter feed.  The most interesting parts were literally the pictures of her with 80′s and early 90′s stars, like Brian Austin Greene and Mr. T.  The worst bits were her “parenting tips”, which included such gems as, “Bring wipes everywhere you go!” and “Have Demi Moore as your birthing coach!”  Really, she seems like a fine person, very sweet and obviously a loving mother, but writing is not her forte.  Obviously, her book was written for people like me who grew up in the 80′s watching too much TV and are now mothers.  But that doesn’t mean we enjoy vapid writing.  No, we do not.  In fact, I really more skimmed this book than read it cover-to-cover — I’m a busy lady, and this book was quickly relegated to bathroom reading status.

Jane Lynch, please don't hurt me! I promise I didn't pan your book. I just made fun of the title a wee bit.

Who doesn’t love Jane Lynch?  She’s hilarious, and beloved for being an unlikely celebrity.  I’ve followed her work since her Christopher Guest movie days, and of course I love Glee as much as the next ex-outcast.  And really, her book is not that bad.  I may even go so far as to recommend it, especially for her reflections on finding sobriety.  She is brutally honest in describing how bitter and self-centered she once was, and how she still works hard on those parts of herself that are needy pits of need.  But her book follows the trajectory of all celebrity memoirs — hitting all the salient career points and telling you some juicy tidbits about your favorite movies/tv shows/stars, but never enough that you feel you’ve learned anything you would actually repeat in a conversation.  Except for Tim Gunn’s revelation in Gunn’s Golden Rules that he is voluntarily celibate — that one does come up now and again, even if it does require me sheepishly admitting that I read a reality star’s memoir.  I guess I have no literary shame anymore!

Since this post is already a celebrity name-dropping fiasco, I might as well give you an update on the Zooey D situation.  I went ahead and got bangs, and I shook my fist at Ms. Deschanel the whole time, since they look awesome and I’m pissed that I didn’t do this long ago.  I went to church the next day, and did get some Zooey D comments, but the reaction from the teenagers I work with was… well, it was hilarious and humbling.  At first, they said they literally didn’t recognize me, which I thought was a little weird, because it’s just hair covering my forehead – the rest of me is the same.  Then, they did not tell me it looked good, or that I looked like a certain someone, they said, “You look like an Asian lady!”  I was baffled as to how to respond, but gratefully one of them said “That’s racist” so I didn’t have to.  Then they got into a debate about whether or not I now look Asian, and if it is indeed racist to say so.  Welp, just goes to show, if you’re feeling all “Poor me, everyone thinks I’m a movie star!”, leave it to teenagers to tell you you look like a cashier at Duc Loi.

Suck it, Zooey D! I have fringe for my ponytail now and you can't stop me!!

 

 
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