Strange Little Collecting Project

Earlier this week, I found myself feeling more vulnerable than I have felt in a long time. I’m reading The Awakening by Kate Chopin with my juniors right now. It’s an amazing little book about a 28 year old woman that begins to realize her place in the world and her role in society. Basically, it’s about her journey to self-awareness and just in case her audience didn’t catch that, there is this one little chapter where Chopin lays it out pretty plainly. It goes like this: “In short, Mrs. Pontellier was beginning to realize her position in the universe as a human being, and to recognize her relations as an individual to the world within and about her. This may seem like a ponderous weight of wisdom to descend upon the soul of a young woman of twenty-eight-perhaps more wisdom than the Holy Ghost is usually pleased to vouchsafe to any woman.” My students couldn’t quite figure out this section, so I started to attempt an explanation. Before I knew it, there I was, in front of 24 pairs o...

Relationships between people have always been interesting to me. I think that is why I enjoy reading fiction so much because avid readers are merely people watchers. Since we are all scientifically hard-wired the same way, it seems like human relationships and behavior would be standard and predictable. But there is one ingredient of Human Interaction that Science fails to take into account. The element of passion throws a wrench in everything. I don’t necessarily mean romantic passion. I’m talking about our convictions, our beliefs, our interests. The more I think about it, the more I’ve realized that many of the significant conflicts and wars in the civilized world were created not because of our basic human needs like food and water (yes I realize there are many exceptions to this). Many conflicts have been brought about because of our passion as individuals or as groups of people. It’s our passion for certain things that draw us together or push us apart, like magnets...

Basically every four years for as long as I can remember, I’ve gone through some big transition, and because of my career choice, that transition has always involved school. Well, I’ve been out of college for four years now and I guess I’m subconsciously itching for another transition. It’s starting to feel unnatural for me to stay in one place for this long. And I worry that this fear of sitting still could be self-sabotaging. Is it merely a case of “the grass is always greener?” I work at one of the best schools in the area with great people. My friends and family are loyal, supportive, warm, and funny people that accept and even love me despite my drama queen tendencies. I have a nice home and I’m making a living wage. But still I just feel stuck. I’ve really struggled to think, let alone write about this because I worry that I’m being ungrateful. I don’t think I’m alone though. My beliefs as a “writer” force me to try and make sense of this because I know that it’s anoth...

So, it had been awhile since I did something really good and embarrassing, and I think my subconscious and the karmic police of socialistic happiness distribution were starting to get suspicious. They both sat back and tried to remember the last time I made an ass out of myself in some type of public forum. “I think it was the push-up bra, deep V-neck incident at the Mexican restaurant,” my subconscious said. “Haha. Yes that was quite embarrassing, but you are mistaken. It was last week at the grocery store. Remember the grapefruit avalanche?” the karmic police of socialistic happiness distribution reminded my subconscious. “Wow. Yeah. We must have buried that memory pretty deep, because we’d already forgotten about it. Is it possible to bury things in your subconscious’s subconscious?” “Well, let’s see what type of damage we can do,” the karmic police officer replied, inviting my subconscious to a hearty chest-bump. Whores. I was enjoying a wonderful, lazy Sunday afternoon fu...

Like any single girl of a certain age (as my elders like to say…such a loaded statement) I am jealous of my friends who are in long-term, committed relationships, which describes 99.4% of the people in my life right now. But it’s not for the typical reasons. I’m not jealous because they have a permanent date for weddings. I’m not jealous because they never have to go see a movie by themselves, which is actually a great experience if you’ve never done it. And my non-single friends will never have to eat dinner with a book, another strangely pleasant experience (just not on Valentine’s Day). I don’t envy them the roommate (except when the bills come) because I’ve really enjoyed living by myself these last few years. I have the freedom to do Zumba at all hours, sing as loud as I want in the shower, and leave my American Girl doll (Kirsten just in case you’re wondering even though I’m totally a Molly) out on my bookshelf. Now that I think about it, these things might explain why I am still...

*Disclaimer: This is by no means intended to offend my beautiful and regular friends who eat Activia on a daily basis. If you work for Activia's marketing/advertising department, feel free to be offended. Jamie Lee Curtis and Linsday Lohan could probably be offended, too.* I hate the Activia commercials. I hate them with a fiery, red, constipated passion. Sorry Jamie Lee; it’s not necessarily your fault. Although I do wonder how desperate you were for Freak Friday 2 or Another Freaky Friday, or TGIFreaky-Friday, etc. to come out. (I bet Lindsay Lohan would LOVE to magically switch places with somebody, anybody right now—sorry, too much daytime TV is making me meaner). I hate Activia commercials because I think they focus on the wrong thing. It’s the basic argument of form over function. Activia’s marketing team has obviously decided to focus all their attention on the function of Activia rather than the form (taste). Focusing on the function of a product isn’t a problem with me!...

It’s been a year since Anthony passed away. I feel like I say this every year on some milestone date but this really has been the quickest year I can remember. It’s weird how your perception of time changes the older you get. It’s also weird how certain images and memories stick with you from particular days. 1 year ago, I remember standing in the front yard of Anthony’s house. It was the 2nd time that week I had stood in that yard, but it was for 2 very different occasions. The first time was for a good friend’s beautiful and bittersweet wedding ceremony; the second time was for his funeral. I remember looking down by my feet and seeing one of the Carolina blue ribbons that had been tied around the programs for his wedding just days before. And I remember the exact words that went through my mind at that moment: Life is so unfair. The last time I really talked to Anthony was less than a week before he died. I stopped by to visit him, worried that I would be in the way, or encroaching ...