Up .... down... wwwwwwwweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Tuesday, March 30 the roller coaster...


When I arrived at work, the first thing I did was yet again bail out the ungrateful and disrespectful CEO.  And so the car started to ascend the tracks of the hill.

[Please note here that I love my job.  I would stay here and continue to work as long as they would have me except I no longer respect or believe in the CEO and when you work for less than you're worth, put in more hours than are in a calendar day, and have sacrificed more than is humanly known to me or them that means you have to leave.]

Any way, my years of experience clicked in and I organized a major event for her and our organization in less than thirty minutes.  I thought of almost everything from email notifications to confetti to duct tape.  If I had not done it, she would have been embarassed and it could have had lasting PUBLIC repercussions through which I fear she would have lived and found a scapegoat~ probably me.  Instead, I am the known heroine of the day.  Oh, she nor the COO may admit it because to do so would cause them to admit so much more than just what is going to happen Thursday, but that is okay.  I know and I know they know.

After that, I had a couple of uneventful meetings.  I thought the coaster car was going to stall.  I then sat back at my desk to read two emails: one, based a lot on my expertise...

[I have been beating myself up a lot lately because, in part due to external criticism, I am in the same job as I was 7 years ago and my work ethic is almost non-existent, but I am coming to believe that while I create and sabotage solely at my doing, I do need some sort of exterior recognition for my more-than-mortal attempts at keeping a program alive that by any one who even looks in for one minute, steps back and say, "how the hell do you do all of that?" 

That being said, I feel the need to be a little braggy lately.]

... the University of Michigan has been asked to submit a proposal for research funding (*yay*); two, an abstract of which I am the co-author was selected to be presented at an international conference in July.  The abstract highlights a component in a program I co-designed.

I then got to display some mad skills to interns that I thought long ago rusted.

Before the outing with the interns, I called the significant other to brag about my day.  He congratulated me, but then felt the need to "match" my good news with word that he was buying two bikes off of ebay for him and his daughter.  He was genuinely happy for me.  I know that.  This will be a problem for us as we move along our path together: I have the potential for more public successes than he.  This is mainly because I want public success and because I believe I am capable of it.  He does not like himself as much as I like myself or even as much as I like him.  When I talked to him later in the evening, he again congratulated me as well as when he tried to get out of hanging out Wednesday night (we're spending the holiday weekend together), I reminded him that I deserved "congratulations sex."  He agreed.  [As long as I am direct with my needs and considerate of his, I think we will find the balance between my wanting to be a big fish in a moderately sized pond and his wanting to be the clown fish in a small, intimate but gorgeous pond.]

Those were the clicks of the roller coaster car climbing that giant hill of my happy day.  The car arched the hump and then started to decline...

I was told by Michigan's Cesar Milan (his description, but others agree) that my dog is the meanest dog with whom he has ever worked.  I can not believe it is true, but still to hear it was difficult.  He did finally relent and say that my dog is also smart and is adopting his new behaviors quickly.  This was not said without my hearing that still my dog does not like authority.  Who does? 

[Look at him.  Does he seem like he could be meaner than pit bulls who were forced to fight????]

I have a friend who just won a battle with her ex over in their seven year custody war, but she continues to lose sight that she may be losing the war with her child as she continues to make short-sided and selfish decisions.  This saddens me.  I have spoken up at the risk of losing our friendship, but she doesn't hear me.  I have to ask myself now how much longer can I respect her and like her as a person, much less as my friend.

I am a reformed nail biter.  My nails, however, either are permanently damaged from years of biting or just genetically weak.  During my late 20s through my mid-30s I got acrylic nails.  Last year, due to money and depression, I took of the acrylics and swore that I would live a healthier life and stop putting toxins on my nails.  It took a year and pharmacist recommended Biotin, but my nails finally were taking shape and growing, but they grow for six weeks or so then break all to hell.  This happened today.  I know this is frivolous, but I wear lots and lots of rings and ugly nails take away my joy at looking at my hands.

I still have two reports I have to do before I go home... and yet, I am writing this.

I am on vacation starting Thursday.  I looked at the weather and it is supposed to rain starting Monday and all that week.  Sure, you say that I will have Thursday through Sunday but I will be in a car Friday and Sunday and in the interim in another state.

Okay so as you can see, the down hill turned out not to be so bad and did not overshadow the joy of the climb of my self-worth from earlier in the day.

I just have to make sure that the up swing of the day carries me to do what I need to do during my vacation and get things done so I can make sure my roller coaster always has only small down hills.

Until the next ride...

Standing Up For Feminism in all Types of Clothing

I wrote the following in response to the following article at Bust Magazine:  Sexually Exploit Yourself to Help Stop Sex Trafficking .

As mostly aware feminists, we do ourselves, those more aware, and especially those less aware a disservice with our outward adoption of supposedly male-defined beauty standards but inward rejection of male-defining.



I too wear make-up (I like the theatrics that we can change our appearance), wear dresses/ skirts (they are more comfortable than pants, most days), wear high heels (I truly believe I was supposed to be 6'0" and being 5'10" is just not good enough), and I date men. The latter is the hardest to reconcile, but that is for another post.


In the end, however, all the six year old girl who we pass on the street sees is that we look like what she sees Barbie selling her. She doesn't get to see all of our well thought out logic on comfort and that the vast majority of humanity consider "dresses" unisex, it is just Western ideals that limits wearing them to the female of our species. She knows none of this, especially, when the skirt is cute and short. SO what can we do? When we talk to her, when we pass her, somehow she has to know that it is NOT about how you look on the outside it is about how we let people treat us and we have to be treated with respect and valued, which are the opposite of objectified and exploited.


She gets to wear the cute short skirt, but she HAS to stand up to the catcalling a$$hole who objectifies her and she has to walk away from the man who says that she is too pretty to be walking and should be being chauffeured (true way that pimps lure victims). She is worth more than their praise, their desire, and their power. She deserves more.


The young women who are going to be shaking what their mommas gave them for charity and for sex appeal, should be admonished for that because flaunting their choice in the name of those who have no choice is insulting to the women they claim to support. Victims of Trafficking would not want to watch them dance; they would want to know that people are earnestly working to end their slavery.


The young women of the sorority also need, however, to be seen as victims. They may get to eat where they want, keep the money they earn, and not live in fear of mortal retribution if they do not sell their bodies, BUT they are exploited. There will be men profiting from their mentalities of sex sells, especially exaggerated hyper feminine borderline lesbian sex. It may not be the night of the benefit nor may it be those particular young women, but there will be others.


So to the writer of this blog, I say, go to the event, pass out literature to the audience (know it will be discarded by 95% of the people), prey on the hosts wanting to feel good and go do a talk on Trafficking (or find someone in your community who can) at their sorority house (make sure the person can tie their event in, not to berate their good intentions, but to further educate them), and do it in whatever clothes in which you feel comfortable.


Remember, also, please, that not wearing skirts, heels, make-up also means that we live by patriarchal constraints because feminists are supposed to be "masculine," because using voice to enact change is only for men... at least that is what they would have us also believe.


Fight the good fight, sisters!

Sunday #1

I am left to wonder is it still living if one is drugged to a point that his/ her personality is all but a memory~ the light that is uniquely yours blown out by chemical after chemical? does the answer change if the individual is old or young? physically healthy or impaired? human or animal? what is living?

My dog has bitten people.  He for lack of better words is a victim.  He was abused as a puppy and after I adopted him and we were on a walk, he was attacked several times.  For lack of a better term, I say he has PTSD. 

Drugs may be an option, but how will I know if I can trust him.  He took medicine before and still bit people while medicated.

Will he still be the same dog?  Will he still enjoy running so much you can see him smile?  How will I know?  And then would it be too late?

I am distraught.

The First Wednesday

I may very well be in the most healthy adult dating relationship that I have yet to experience.  It stimulates all of my senses and encourages all of my passions.  It came out of nowhere but is nearly exactly what I have always wanted.  I do remember lying awake at night hoping for someone who got me and appreciated all of my strengths and passions.  This happened basically every night from say about the time I was seven years old to present.  Oh sure, there have been a couple of people who made me feel close, but even then, looking back, there was something off.  The scary part about this relationship is that nothing feels off.  I am not making excuses nor ignoring any problems.  Our problems get worked out pretty quickly and relatively easily.  I am accepting and not because I feel like he is my last chance before true spinsterhood sets in, but because to be accepted, one has to accept and this may have been my biggest relationship mistake up to now.  Granted, the relationship is still relatively new, but that should not disuade me from celebrating the good.

Sense #1: SIGHT
A lot of my relationships in the last decade or so had barely any face time.  Scheduling a face-to-face with the President of the United States or Oprah had to be easier.  I needed to justify each outing as how it was not a move to "serious-ville" but merely a speck in status quo-land so he need not worry that our meeting up at Eastern Market meant I was going to have a member of the clergy, 300 of my dearest, and a white dress waiting for him. The truth being that I innocently wanted company while I picked out the next victims of my herb garden-soon-to-be-cemetery.  This battle was exhausting yet I justified it as I am not like everyone else and I like to play with the new and shiny things in my life so that may be too much for them.  Then, when I was pretty sure that I was taking it slow, I invoked the whole assumption of commitment-phobia that apparently and excusingly afflicts men my age (in my 20s, it was it was too early for them and now in my 30s, they're too set in their ways but all of the books, movies, and advising family members always said the same thing: each man just had to find the RIGHT woman to change his ways... which made me keep looking).  Each of these relationships ended with me hearing or feeling (when they just disappeared) that I wanted more than they did.  I guess it was true, I wanted to date... they wanted what?

RC is quite different.  Our first date started with a late night burger on a Sunday went into early Monday morning and he called me later Monday.  We have seen each other at least once every seven days on average three times per week.  He comes over evenings despite having to be up before nature just to catch up on our days and fall asleep together, like last night.  There have been a few weeks that I have actually sought a reprieve, but then when he calls/ sends me a text message, I always say, "sure, see you in a few..." because it is nice to be seen.

Passion #1: DEBATING
It is a rare art to debate without personally wounding.  I was raised in the stereotype: Italian-American men and their Italian and non-Italian wives yelling over everything: mayors, civil rights, noodle types, lawn mowing techniques, football, meatballs, lettuces, weight, and the color of the sky, but never doubting that once the red left the faces and the chandeliers stopped shaking, that there would be laughter that would again turn the faces red and the make the chandeliers move.  I don't know how to debate without yelling nor how to hold a grudge once it is over.  Once we have exhausted all points, it is time to laugh.  I have heard through many a grapevines stemming from all aspects of my life that my aggressive discussing techniques has limited my success.  I have wanted to change, I say I am going to change, I count to 10, I listen, I pause, and then sure as anything, my voice raises and my light olive skin gets pink and I beat my point over my opponent  associate's head.  After a lifetime (my mother says my first real sentence was stating an opinion) of thinking that I needed to change, I realized that I need simply to qualify (aka warn them as to what they can expect) things to people and fucking be me.

RC does not necessarily debate like me, but he has not ran.  He engages.  In fact, he antagonizes.  He has been known to actually look at me sweetly and smile when I start to boil over.  What the hell?  I am sure this will go away as the years add up, but all I know is that right now, I bask in not having to curb my passionate discussion style.

Sense #2: TOUCH
The physical aspects of our relationship are intense and gentle.  I get to hold his arm while we walk.  When we sit next to each other, he puts his hand on my thigh.  In bed sometimes, he reaches his leg over to hook mine and then goes back to sleep, like he has to be touching me in order to be peaceful.  I melt.  And yep, the sex is gggggggggrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaattttttttttttt.  It has been since the first time we had sex.  He knew exactly where and how to touch me.  Some of the things surprised me because I did not know I liked that or had not had cause to remember how much I liked that in a while.

Sense #3: HEARING
RC talks to me.  We talk about every day tasks like my poor habit of leaving Netflix DVDs in my player for weeks and we talk about dreams like how his is merely to provide for his two daughters.  He, also, communicates with me OFTEN.  I really don't think there have been two days in which we have not had some sort of contact in the nearly six months we have been dating: phone, text, date, or email.  I know that may seem extreem and perhaps nauseating, but I have made an observation about the relationships of others who are as close to successful as possible: THEY SHARE EVERYTHING.  I don't mean they don't have separate interests or do everything together, but they talk about their time apart as soon as they are back together and they do it frequently.  My sisters talk to their partners several times a day and one pair has been together over 15 years (met when my sister was 18) and the other sister has been with her significant other for over 12 years.  It works.  I used to tease, goad, and call their womanhood into question and thought they were "whipped."  I was going to be damned if I was going to tell my partner about my trip to the grocery store, but then after each failed relationship, all I wanted was someone to whine to about how the cashier just did not understand the basics of bagging: one does NOT put grapes under the frozen steaks.  It took me until 2009, but I did finally accept that sharing equals long-term COMMITMENT.

Granted, he says I talk too much and he is required to do an unfair amount of listening, but he tries.  I know when he's not listening and what he will not remember.  I try to limit my frustration to his not listening, but you know what, every day, he still asks, "How was your day?"  And he listens.

Passion #2: POLITICS
I thought the eight-year hell on earth called the Bush Administration had killed my love of all things political; it turns out it was just in an induced coma, waiting for a new day.  Now, just like most victims of comas, my political savvy needs to be re-taught how to function: read the happenings of those in DC, Lansing, and Detroit and to engage others.  I am still taking baby steps.  I read political blogs (The Daily Beast provides me some information from both sides of the aisle) and I look up the nonsensical things he sends me.

I believe greed kills and that every human has rights.  Being this way means people label me a liberal or as RC would say, "a scumbag liberal."  And he is proud to be opposite of me, which I guess makes him fit into the pigeonhole with "conservative" above it.  We rarely agree on anything, but he looks stuff up.  He never concedes that most of his complaints are hypocritical and based on the cycle of who is in power, but he is aware.  I have dated others from both sides of the aisle who just regurgitate myths and stereotypes to me.  I despised their claiming a political stance but refusing to engage.  I will never agree with RC's politics on the whole, but I will always respect his involvement.

Senses #4 & 5: SMELL & TASTE
Smell and taste are physicologically connected and they are for RC and me as well.  RC likes food and I don't have to be shy about food with him.  On our first date, I ordered fries with my bar burger.  I eat fries with mayo (my European friends can understand; my USA friends, there is more to life than ketchup).  I ordered mayo with my fries.  The waitress laughed at me.  RC relaxed and ordered his favorite dipping sauce for fries: bar-b-que sauce. 

Now, RC has limited food likes.  He eats so little, but I am a reformed picky eater.  Now my good friend, P., says that I still order like Meg Ryan in "When Harry Met Sally," but I used to only eat pizza and burgers.  I eat sushi now along with countless others of the world's bounty that I never used to eat.  I have come a long way, but I can remember what it was like to be picky.  I am not like the reformed smokers of the world, demanding everyone else put out their butts.  I say that as long as I get to eat when and what I want with him, then I am fine if he eats the same foods every other day.

Passion #3: EXPLORING LIFE'S OFFERINGS
How many macho, conservative men do you know would not only go to yoga, but do so boastfully?  RC does not cast his net as wide as me to see what Detroit and the greater world has to offer, but right now we are planning our first vacation and he wants to go to some all-inclusive resort in the Bahamas; I want to go to Mexico, preferably stay in a hut, but will compromise for a villa/ local hotel near the ruins of the Yucatan.  I thought that he would dig his heels in and not even think about Mexico, instead he started sending me emails about what else we could do besides the resort.  He has gone to art exhibits, MOCAD, and will be going to a Hamtramck rock-a-billy celebration of Johnny Cash with me this weekend.  There is compromise but there is still exploring.

***Due to technical difficulties that I did not know, this was not posted on Wednesday although written for it and actually certain I had clicked, "Publish Post."  Oh well, one set back.  Must carry on...***

Time Will Tell

I am at a crossroads in my professional life and I am mentally working tirelessly to not let it affect my personal life, which for the first time in too many years is making me happy.

I need a job change, but there are a few roadblocks (not bloggable at this time) preventing me from just jumping ship and moving on so I need some creative attempts to break out of the j-o-b situation. I saw a couple of articles on Yahoo! that people can make money from blogs. I have long thought that blogging would be an excellent outlet for me to express all of my frustrations with the world and spread the joy virus that is my belief that we can effect change, but more on that part later.

Therefore, this is the first blog to see, before I put money into it, which I may do a nominal amount to help me commit all the more, to see if I can do this, continuing building a personal future, try to keep my head afloat at work just slightly, and build a path out.

I intend to use this blog as a means to expressing thoughts on the world and me. It will appear minimally twice a week to start: Wednesdays and Sundays. A Tuesday launch for this new Wednesday/ Sunday publication is perfect since I am sure there will be more idiosyncratic morsels to come. A reader of this blog will be forced to think about me, the world, and her or his own body and soul. Future topics will be feminism in 2010 as embodied by others and me; hate; education; sexual health; Detroit; sisterhood; relationships; and pets, to name a few, but as the older set used to say, "the world is my oyster" so there is no telling where this blog will go.

I know me and I know that most of the posts will be lengthy but to maintain the commitment, I will post short essays as well.

Stay tuned world wide web (do they say that any more?) and see what Deena, The First Sister in Detroit does.