Yesterday was my fifth anniversary of word vomiting all over you on this corner of the Internet. You're welcome for that visual.
So, five years ago, I was 23 years old, sort of single, an aspiring actress getting ready to move to NYC, sitting on my butt on my parent's couch, and I decided I wanted to start a blog about my dad's team and the postseason lifestyle that we've come to consider normal when it's really anything but. I figured I was about to become super busy and famous when I moved to New York so it would be the last time I would have the time to travel with the team in any major capacity. So I opened up Blogger, bullshitted a few lines, and pressed publish. Then, I told The Boneyard about it.
And now we're here. In the past five years I've moved to NYC, had a ton of adventures, moved right back home, had a horrible year or so, dated a few huge douchebags with a couple good guys in there that just weren't right, started and finished a Masters program, applied to PhD programs, became a teacher and an aunt, finally found a guy that my Nonna approves of, and own my very own property. With help from my mother but whatever.
It's been an absolutely insane ride and I want to thank all of you - the 250 people who follow my blog on Blogger, the people who Liked my page on Facebook, and all 1,711 of you crazy bastards who follow my insane rants and live-tweeting of major pop cultural events on Twitter (I MISS YOU, I'll be back in four weeks!). You guys make me think I'm funny. Which is a new thing for me.
So in honor of this milestone, I'm going to do the "50 Things About Me" tag that I've seen floating around. This is going to be a really random list of stuff that you probably already knew, but whatever. Here's to a few more years of this ridiculousness!
1. You name the clothing item, I have it in sequins. Except for underwear. That would be really itchy.
2. I have a permanently damaged coccyx (that's your tailbone, for all of you tittering pervs) from falling down a flight of concrete stairs. It was during a dress rehearsal of a musical I was performing in; while running to the green room for a costume change my character shoe broke and I went flying. I was wearing a very thin costume so it felt like my ass was slamming into a concrete corner. I felt my entire body go hot, which made me think I broke my tailbone because I'd heard that when you broke a bone you'll get warm, and I immediately started crying. I spent the rest of the dress rehearsal laying down in the audience with an ice pack on my ass, and because the show was in Torrington I had to drive an hour home and made my mom practically carry me into bed. I had to sit on a pillow when I drove my car for two weeks. Now, if I sit in a leaned-back position for too long, standing up sends a shooting pain down my butt.
3. I hate peas, unless they are in a dish with a lot of other components like rice or something. If they're just laying there on a plate I won't eat it. If there's a dish at a restaurant that comes with a side of peas I won't order it.
4. I drink a Powerade or a Vitamin Water every single day because of the electrolytes.
5. I successfully signed up for AccessHealthCT's version of Obamacare last week. It's probably the best thing I've done for myself in a long time. Go get your beautiful butts covered.
6. My favorite movies when I was a kid were A League of Their Own, The Sandlot, Now and Then, and Little Giants.
7. My favorite New Kid on the Block is Joey. My favorite NSYNC-er is JC. My favorite Spice Girl is Posh. And I don't have a favorite member of the Backstreet Boys because screw those guys. NSYNC was my 90s boy band.
8. Lately I've been coming around to the flavor of Jif peanut butter, but I'm definitely still a Skippy girl.
9. I still have yet to see the entirety of the original Star Wars trilogy. I've seen bits and pieces of it on TV and randomly in my 7th grade science class, but that's about it. My boyfriend is promising me that one day this summer we will watch the whole trilogy, probably on a day when it's too hot to do anything but hug the air conditioner.
10. I dye my hair from a box. It drives my mom insane, but I look at it from a realistic standpoint - right now, I would rather buy a $5 box of hair dye, mess it up, and correct it with another $5 box of hair dye, rather than get it dyed by a salon for $90, and run the risk of blowing that money on a bad job. I've been doing this for two years and have yet to go bald, so bear with me. Right now my hair is the closest it's been to my natural color in a long time, which is why I'm probably dyeing it red soon.
11. I'm very knock-kneed, and no amount of yoga is ever going to correct it.
12. My posture sucks, and no amount of yoga is ever going to correct it.
13. When I was a kid all I wanted was to get boobs when I hit puberty. I got an ass instead. You win some, you lose some.
14. The first boy to make me feel feelings was Devon Sawa. I pretty much wore out my tapes of Now and Then and Little Giants.
15. I was terrified of sleeping at my Nonna's house as a kid because she had this giant picture of da Vinci's Last Supper on her wall, and if you slept facing it, it was like Jesus was staring straight into your soul. It creeped me the hell out. That, and if you slept in a different room at Nonna's there was a GIANT rosary hanging over the bed.
16. Contrary to public opinion - and by 'public opinion' I mean 'things Dad has said about me' - I was a pretty good basketball player. I did rec teams, AAU, travel teams (the now-defunct Silk City team in the Connecticut Girls Basketball League) and I played all through middle school. In my rec teams I averaged about 10 points per game and I think my career high was 18. I loved me some three-pointers. The last time I played competitively was during college on an intramural team with some of my buddies (Deuces Wild!) and I got my ass kicked.
17. I played softball for one year in eighth grade and I'm pretty sure it was because I watched A League of Their Own way, way too much as a kid and wanted to be a Rockford Peach.
18. I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder when I was 10 years old. My ADD manifests itself in procrastination, mild to severe anxiety, and a tendency to over-load myself with tasks.
19. I am in love with Tom Hanks. Like, if I met him I would instantly vomit.
20. I wouldn't call myself highly religious - I was baptized and confirmed and I am a godmother to one of my nephews but have severe issues with the way the Catholic Church conducts their business. That being said, I do think there is something out there, or an energy in the universe, that is shifting all of us towards the positive. I have to believe that we are here for a reason, otherwise I don't really know what I would do with myself.
21. In high school and about four months into college I drank half a liter of Diet Coke every single day. On some days, that was my breakfast. Then I tried to quit cold turkey. NEVER DO THIS. I thought I was going to have an aneurysm.
22. If The Mother ends up dying on the final episode of How I Met Your Mother I will literally throw my TV out of a window.
23. I have yet to watch Scandal, House of Cards, Orange is the New Black, or Girls. On that note...
24. I don't get Seinfeld. I just don't get it. Or The Simpsons.
25. I have at least five VHS tapes of recorded SNL episodes from 2001 to 2003. I was obsessed with Jimmy Fallon. Still am.
26. I have a back porch on my condo that I can never use, because there are several male feral cats in my complex and they like to hang out on that porch and scream at each other. It's a great alarm in the morning.
27. I prefer iced coffee over hot coffee.
28. I still do Tae-Bo.
29. My favorite food is French fries.
30. I love YouTubers. My favorites are Grace Helbig (It'sGrace), Mamrie Hart (YouDeserveADrink) and Hannah Hart (My Drunk Kitchen, MyHarto). They are just so damn funny.
31. When I was in high school my group of friends decided to figure out which members of South Park we all were. I got Butters Stotch. I look at that as a compliment. Butters is a damn tool but he's adorable.
32. Still haven't read Twilight. I may have to eventually in order to just understand the compulsive nature of it. But it will be a begrudging read.
33. I honestly feel like most Hollywood marriages end in divorce because actors are fucking crazy.
34. For my 21st birthday I went to Husky's on the UConn campus, which is a cross between a bar and a club. I had two martinis with gummy bear garnishes - because I am such a damn girl - and then my friend Gina told the bartender to make me a Grateful Dead. I just looked up the ingredients for the first time: Gin, light rum, white tequila, Triple Sec, vodka, sour mix, and raspberry syrup. WOOF.
35. I hated red wine until I was 23 years old, when I moved to New York and started going to dinner parties thrown by my friend from high school. Her only rule was that you brought a bottle of red wine, so I quickly got accustomed to the taste.
36. I have smoked cigarettes exactly twice. Don't do it. It's stupid.
37. I have costochondritis, which is chronic inflammation of the ligaments that connect to your rib cage. It gets exacerbated by changes in air temperature (so, going from warm house to cold weather, or from hot summer weather to a house with lots of AC blasting) and when that happens, my rib cage tries to heal itself by refusing to expand when I breathe. That means sometimes I get short of breath easily just from my ribs being sore.
38. I try to set aside one day a week to clean my house, otherwise I feel like I'm living in filth.
39. I collect Disney DVDs. Because I am an adult.
40. My favorite hobbit is Pippin.
41. My favorite books as a kid were the Nancy Drew, Anastasia Krupnik, and Ramona Quimby books. I was also obsessed with Anne Shirley.
42. Junior year of high school I told my drama teacher that I was auditioning for the role of Rosie in Bye Bye Birdie, which was at the time my #1 dream role in musical theater. Her response? I should audition for the role of Mama Petersen (normally played by a slightly more hefty woman) because "girls like you aren't built for the leading lady parts." That just pissed me off. I went into the audition, kicked the shit out of it, and got the part of my dreams.
43. The first movie I saw in a movie theater was Beauty and the Beast.
44. I write inspirational messages on my wrists before stressful days so that I can look down at them and find some grounding comfort in the message.
45. When I was in high school I was in a musical production at an all-boys school near mine and developed a borderline psychotic crush on the guy playing the lead, to the point that I literally couldn't look at him without giggling. I remember one time he was trying to hit people up for gum and when I told him I had some he gave me a huge hug, and I'm pretty sure I peed a little. If you're wondering why I'm disclosing this sensitive information about my childhood crush, it was completely goddamn obvious to everyone in the cast that I was in love with him because every time I had to speak to him I turned purple, so this isn't shocking information!
46. I prefer going to movies by myself, because I like to form my own opinions about the film in order to consider it in critical context.
47. My favorite kind of dog is a Welsh Corgi, and I want one so bad it hurts.
48. The boyfriend and I don't really have "a song" like most couples do - we feel a lot of that stuff can be kind of dumb and not indicative of a true relationship if you're putting tons of labels on things. But if we did, it would be "Madness" by Muse.
49. I had mono about 7 years ago and it ended up putting me in the hospital because I developed peritonsillar cellulitis, a tonsil infection that can result in an abscess. I'm pretty sure I also had tonsillitis because according to the doctor that treated me, it is incredibly rare for PC to develop in people with mono. I felt very special.
50. I fully believe leggings are pants.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Monday, March 17, 2014
Life without social networks, 2014.
If you've followed me for more than two years, you know that I gave up Tweeting for Lent 2012. It honestly wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be, particularly because I was still hitting the Facebook Kool-Aid pretty hard in the absence of Twitter. But this year, I decided to go a little crazy.
On Ash Wednesday, I took to my Twitter for the last time in 40 days, and also to my Facebook. And my Instagram.
I announced, "Hey guys! I'm going off my social networks for Lent. See you on Easter!"
Yep. With the exception of Pinterest (which I don't really regard as a social network, since you're just pinning shit to online inspiration boards), I'm completely and utterly shut off from all of my networking sites until April 20th. The response has been a mix of "Dammit!" and "Good for you."
Here's the deal, people. I'm a teacher, a writer, and an academic. My life is lived on a computer screen, trying to connect words together that make sense and radicalize conversations about children's literature, gender, sexuality, and feminism. And I also think Buzzfeed lists are awesome. My social networks are to connect with the other like minds that share my aspirations, and without those networks I would not be in touch with a lot of the people I consider to be my closest friends, simply due to distance and time. Basically, I use Facebook and Twitter and social networks as a desperate link to the outside world. So I did have a bad feeling at first when I deleted the apps off my phone and got ready for a month and a half without any of the things that I normally use to procrastinate.
Surprisingly, it's been much, much easier than I thought it would be. I haven't felt the urge to check my networks once except for when I randomly go onto Facebook to clear my notifications; I don't want to get back on Easter Sunday and be faced with sorting through a billion red flags. And what have I learned from this mass hiatus from constant connection and status updates and sharing?
1. Woah, talking to people is terrifying and awesome.
I've reconnected with so many people because of Facebook, and that's not something I'll ever take for granted, but that being said, it's been very interesting to see how many people are contacting me now that I'm not on it. I've gotten lots of texts from people who just genuinely want to talk and see how I'm doing without Facebook, and it's made those interactions richer because I can't just look at their newsfeed and see what they're up to in life - I have to actually ask. I went to a baby shower this weekend and because I couldn't just stare at my phone when I felt awkward, I had to actually go up and talk to people. And because of that, I actually had the best time ever rather than retreating into myself. It felt great. Plus, I got to put on a rubber horse head and dance around to Taylor Swift, and eat a shit load of Swedish meatballs.
3. Look at all the free time!
I was productive as shit this week, and not just because for half of it I was laid up in bed with a rampant sinus infection; I was legitimately doing things that fed my soul. Did a ton of yoga, ate great food, hung out with friends, and taught great classes without having to share it with everyone. I mean, sure I'm tired as hell but that's just because my brain is overstuffed with a lot of things and I'm actually allowing myself to deal with them, not just pushing them aside in favor of a sassy tweet. I can't wait to see how this continues from now until April 20th.
There are a LOT of things I want to talk about (OMG I still haven't found out about PhD stuff, OMG I want to see what my friends are up to, OMG I think the Mother ends up dead on How I Met Your Mother, OMG the men are playing St. Joe's in the first round, this is my worst nightmare manifest) but I will have to wait.
4. Holy stress reduction, Batman.
Ever get that heart-punch feeling when you wake up in the morning and the day literally cannot start until you check all of your social networks, and if you're not caught up with everything in your friend's lives you feel horrible? I don't have that anymore. And it's awesome. Sure, I substituted it with looking at my YouTube channels, but still! Also, I have a history of panic attacks and it's awesome to be away from something that can be a trigger for those emotions.
5. Relationship privacy, man. Do you speak it?
I've been dating my boyfriend for two and a half years. I've gotten questions from people sometimes about him, mostly hinging around "How do you make a long-term relationship work when you're both so busy?" My answer usually is something like "Well, when it's the right person, blah blah blah" but what I really want to say is "Our relationship is lived out in real time and not on a social network." We actually talk to each other, not to each other's Facebook, and my Lenten sacrifice has made me fully realize how awesome (or stalkerish) our communication is. We keep our business private, and that's quite rare among people my age.
The boyfriend will remain nameless and faceless on this blog, but I hope that my writing and the urgency behind it has taken on a new facet since we've been together. I think that would be the best way to reference him -he's changed me as a person, and as an extension he's vastly improved my writing. When I got off Facebook, our communication didn't change at all, which I don't think would happen with a lot of people I know. Which is kind of…gross. I have friends who post, like, every single thing they do with their significant others and it makes me nauseated. Do they say these things in real life? I feel like they just want to brag.
The only people who can make their relationship through social networks and not piss me off are Wil and Anne Wheaton. Because let's face it, they are absolutely adorable on Twitter. But they've been together for like 20 years, so I'll give them a pass. They didn't bone each other once and then start taking brunch selfies together 10 hours later.
And the top thing I've learned from a week of not being on social networks?
I'm remembering who I am again. I want to lie and say that I'm a snark-filled shitkicker with piss and vinegar in her veins, but in actuality I'm a very vulnerable soul who just wants to leave this world a better place than she came in, and my social networks aren't really helping that positivity. A lot of the time, they make me feel like I need to be more of an asshole, or quieter, or louder, or more educated, or more of a feminist (which, I mean come on, how much more do I have to do? I kind of like shaving my legs TBH, doesn't mean I'm a slave to the patriarchy, I just don't like body hair!)
I'm not spending my days inundated with people who think they have their lives figured out and feel compelled to shove it in my face. I'm not dealing with the comparison trap of the vegan/crossfitting/yoga-ing multitudes who constantly brag about their new lifting/running/whatever PRs and then chased it down with a weird protein shake. I'm not constantly facing my own insecurities in the face of people who I really do think have it all figured out.
I love making people smile and think. I've gotten away from that, partially because I've let the wrong people influence me and partially because I am very much motivated by fear of failure and fear of being myself, which IS this very light and happy person who bruises easily.
When I'm off social networks I am able to remember who I am. Knowing your truth is always worth sharing.
ally
PS. IF the basketball gods are kind, I will be in Music City for the Final Four! But that's only if we get in, obviously. That weekend may be hell if I can't tweet, but I'll power through! We'll just do those good old fashioned Final Four recaps, like in 2009! Although I'm not going to make myself go to every single one of the team's activities…I'm pushing 30, that'd be ridiculous. I'll probably just be blogging about drinking with my grandmother and eating a shitload of Tennessee barbecue.
On Ash Wednesday, I took to my Twitter for the last time in 40 days, and also to my Facebook. And my Instagram.
I announced, "Hey guys! I'm going off my social networks for Lent. See you on Easter!"
Yep. With the exception of Pinterest (which I don't really regard as a social network, since you're just pinning shit to online inspiration boards), I'm completely and utterly shut off from all of my networking sites until April 20th. The response has been a mix of "Dammit!" and "Good for you."
Here's the deal, people. I'm a teacher, a writer, and an academic. My life is lived on a computer screen, trying to connect words together that make sense and radicalize conversations about children's literature, gender, sexuality, and feminism. And I also think Buzzfeed lists are awesome. My social networks are to connect with the other like minds that share my aspirations, and without those networks I would not be in touch with a lot of the people I consider to be my closest friends, simply due to distance and time. Basically, I use Facebook and Twitter and social networks as a desperate link to the outside world. So I did have a bad feeling at first when I deleted the apps off my phone and got ready for a month and a half without any of the things that I normally use to procrastinate.
Surprisingly, it's been much, much easier than I thought it would be. I haven't felt the urge to check my networks once except for when I randomly go onto Facebook to clear my notifications; I don't want to get back on Easter Sunday and be faced with sorting through a billion red flags. And what have I learned from this mass hiatus from constant connection and status updates and sharing?
1. Woah, talking to people is terrifying and awesome.
I've reconnected with so many people because of Facebook, and that's not something I'll ever take for granted, but that being said, it's been very interesting to see how many people are contacting me now that I'm not on it. I've gotten lots of texts from people who just genuinely want to talk and see how I'm doing without Facebook, and it's made those interactions richer because I can't just look at their newsfeed and see what they're up to in life - I have to actually ask. I went to a baby shower this weekend and because I couldn't just stare at my phone when I felt awkward, I had to actually go up and talk to people. And because of that, I actually had the best time ever rather than retreating into myself. It felt great. Plus, I got to put on a rubber horse head and dance around to Taylor Swift, and eat a shit load of Swedish meatballs.
3. Look at all the free time!
I was productive as shit this week, and not just because for half of it I was laid up in bed with a rampant sinus infection; I was legitimately doing things that fed my soul. Did a ton of yoga, ate great food, hung out with friends, and taught great classes without having to share it with everyone. I mean, sure I'm tired as hell but that's just because my brain is overstuffed with a lot of things and I'm actually allowing myself to deal with them, not just pushing them aside in favor of a sassy tweet. I can't wait to see how this continues from now until April 20th.
There are a LOT of things I want to talk about (OMG I still haven't found out about PhD stuff, OMG I want to see what my friends are up to, OMG I think the Mother ends up dead on How I Met Your Mother, OMG the men are playing St. Joe's in the first round, this is my worst nightmare manifest) but I will have to wait.
4. Holy stress reduction, Batman.
Ever get that heart-punch feeling when you wake up in the morning and the day literally cannot start until you check all of your social networks, and if you're not caught up with everything in your friend's lives you feel horrible? I don't have that anymore. And it's awesome. Sure, I substituted it with looking at my YouTube channels, but still! Also, I have a history of panic attacks and it's awesome to be away from something that can be a trigger for those emotions.
5. Relationship privacy, man. Do you speak it?
I've been dating my boyfriend for two and a half years. I've gotten questions from people sometimes about him, mostly hinging around "How do you make a long-term relationship work when you're both so busy?" My answer usually is something like "Well, when it's the right person, blah blah blah" but what I really want to say is "Our relationship is lived out in real time and not on a social network." We actually talk to each other, not to each other's Facebook, and my Lenten sacrifice has made me fully realize how awesome (or stalkerish) our communication is. We keep our business private, and that's quite rare among people my age.
The boyfriend will remain nameless and faceless on this blog, but I hope that my writing and the urgency behind it has taken on a new facet since we've been together. I think that would be the best way to reference him -he's changed me as a person, and as an extension he's vastly improved my writing. When I got off Facebook, our communication didn't change at all, which I don't think would happen with a lot of people I know. Which is kind of…gross. I have friends who post, like, every single thing they do with their significant others and it makes me nauseated. Do they say these things in real life? I feel like they just want to brag.
The only people who can make their relationship through social networks and not piss me off are Wil and Anne Wheaton. Because let's face it, they are absolutely adorable on Twitter. But they've been together for like 20 years, so I'll give them a pass. They didn't bone each other once and then start taking brunch selfies together 10 hours later.
And the top thing I've learned from a week of not being on social networks?
I'm remembering who I am again. I want to lie and say that I'm a snark-filled shitkicker with piss and vinegar in her veins, but in actuality I'm a very vulnerable soul who just wants to leave this world a better place than she came in, and my social networks aren't really helping that positivity. A lot of the time, they make me feel like I need to be more of an asshole, or quieter, or louder, or more educated, or more of a feminist (which, I mean come on, how much more do I have to do? I kind of like shaving my legs TBH, doesn't mean I'm a slave to the patriarchy, I just don't like body hair!)
I'm not spending my days inundated with people who think they have their lives figured out and feel compelled to shove it in my face. I'm not dealing with the comparison trap of the vegan/crossfitting/yoga-ing multitudes who constantly brag about their new lifting/running/whatever PRs and then chased it down with a weird protein shake. I'm not constantly facing my own insecurities in the face of people who I really do think have it all figured out.
I love making people smile and think. I've gotten away from that, partially because I've let the wrong people influence me and partially because I am very much motivated by fear of failure and fear of being myself, which IS this very light and happy person who bruises easily.
When I'm off social networks I am able to remember who I am. Knowing your truth is always worth sharing.
ally
PS. IF the basketball gods are kind, I will be in Music City for the Final Four! But that's only if we get in, obviously. That weekend may be hell if I can't tweet, but I'll power through! We'll just do those good old fashioned Final Four recaps, like in 2009! Although I'm not going to make myself go to every single one of the team's activities…I'm pushing 30, that'd be ridiculous. I'll probably just be blogging about drinking with my grandmother and eating a shitload of Tennessee barbecue.
Friday, March 14, 2014
Obama 2010 Recap
note: this is from a post in June 2010, recapping our trip to meet President Obama. I deleted the previous post, because I completely forgot some insane troll decided to spam me with a bajillion shitty comments, and I don't tolerate no trolls on this drawbridge. So I'm reposting it for the sake of posterity. I'll have a new post soon.
So, yesterday, I met President Barack Obama.
Again.
I'll try and remember everything, but so much came at me in the twelve hours I spent in Washington, some of it is a grand blur. The day began at the unsaintly hour of 5:25 AM because a certain insane person scheduled our flight at 7:30 and another, even more insane person had to take fifty bobby pins out of her hair. Yes, ladies and gents. I pincurled my hair for Obama. I was a glass of Ovaltine away from being a 50s housewife.
After wolfing down a cherry smoothie and toast for breakfast (and packing a granola bar because lunch wouldn't be until 2:30!), I drove with Dad to TAC Air accompanied by Jenna and Todd, who were making the trip in lieu of my brother and Mom. Mom met Obama last year with us, so unlike me, she decided to stay home.
The plane ride to Washington was uneventful, save for a slightly heated debate between Dad and I about the differences between Republicans and Democrats. Honestly, I have no problem with fiscal Republicans. Indeed, I myself probably identify more with them than I do with fiscal Democrats; I believe in the value of really working for your money and not expecting the government to do everything for you. It's the social aspect of Democratic Liberalism that I really identify with, and I kept trying to explain that to Dad (who is a SERIOUS fiscal conservative) and it turned into a huge thing. I blame CD, who brought up politics in the first place. That being said, Dad really likes Obama and voted for him, so the day wasn't awkward in the slightest in that respect. We also had the same ideas about how to deal with the immigration issues, but when Dad suggested I tell them to the President, I just laughed. Why the heck would I ruin a perfectly pleasant photo-op with talk of the mess in AZ? Although sidebar: AZ, you are horrifying to the rest of the country (at least, the smart, sane parts). The last time the words 'show me your papers' were uttered in the past hundred years, a certain annoying man with a mustache was ruling Germany.
Anyway!! We landed in the midst of a very wet and rainy Baltimore Airport, and Dad proceeded to tell us that the drive to Walter Reed Hospital would take about half an hour to forty-five minutes. It took an hour and a half. I slept for about forty-five minutes of it on Dad's shoulder, and I woke up with a crick in my neck and a view of nonstop traffic for the next few miles. When we finally got to Walter Reed, we split up into our designated two groups. Group 1, my group, consisted of the team and additional staffers like Rosie and our videographer Keith, my family, and a few trustees along with Jeff Hathaway, and we went into the main hospital to talk to the 'Wounded Warriors.' Group two went to the veterans center and met with the soldiers there.
Meeting the injured soldiers was humbling. We had to get our hands sprayed with disinfectant when entering and exiting a patient's room. Cards were displayed on the walls from discharged soldiers thanking the hospital staff. And it was surprising how many of them had great senses of humor about their situation. The first guy we met, an SPC who had been stationed in Afghanistan, had only been overseas for three months and hadn't seen a lick of combat before his injury. A bomb ended up exploding near him, breaking a few bones in his legs. He was my favorite out of all of the guys because of the amazing personality, humor, and wit he displayed. He had zero qualms about showing us his x-rays and spoke with almost gleeful zest about his shattered femur. He was also a Watertown, CT, native, and when he found out my sister teaches at the highschool his own alma mater is rivals with, he immediately called out "We are going to kick your ass this year!"
Not all of the soldiers were so forthcoming. One man, a sergeant, had only arrived the day before after being injured last week. He was covered in a blanket so I couldn't see his wounds, but they seemed severe. We asked him questions and he answered them truthfully, but all the while his eyes wandered back to his TV, which was positioned above his bed in front of his face, and his face was glazed over in an expression that said, "How did I get here?"
The common denominator of all the men there? When asked if they'll go back to their posts overseas, they immediately said yes.
While we were waiting for Group 2 to get back, I chatted with Maya and Jenna for a bit and Jenna accidentally let it slip that not only would Barack be greeting us, so would Michelle Obama! Maya and I totally freaked out. As much as I love Obama, I think I love Michelle even more. I find her to be such an incredible example of a strong, healthy, passionate, powerful woman. Her commitment to children's health is something I find so inspiring, and her marriage to Obama is such a great example of what makes a union work. Plus, I worked at J.Crew during election season 2008, and when she wore that geometric patterned skirt and sweater on Jay Leno, our sales went through the roof.
After Walter Reed, we hopped back on the bus and drove to D.C. After walking up to the White House gate with Dad, he had to turn around to grab his I.D. (after he reminded me fifteen times last night 'make sure you've got your I.D.! DO YOU HAVE YOUR I.D.?!'). I ended up walking with Rosie because she had an umbrella and I had left my jacket on the bus.
After going through security and walking into the East Wing, we were greeted by the same White House staffers that had briefed us last year. It was a real treat to see them again, as I had thought them to be quite professional and very nice. They took us on the tour, which I thought would be a total retread of last year's, but the guy who took us was actually the same guy as last year so he thought he should come up with new trivia for us to learn, so despite walking through the same hallways and rooms and hearing a bit of the same stuff as last year-no way, the Jackie Kennedy Garden is named after Jackie Kennedy? Surely you jest!-there were a lot of very fun facts to be gleaned from it regardless.
My favorite tidbit was the one about President Tyler, who demanded his official presidential portrait be painted of him holding a piece of crumpled up newspaper in his hand to show his hatred of the press. When asked by the painter if he was sure about that choice, Tyler retorted, "Who's the President? Me or you?" We also learned where the phrase 'mind your beeswax' comes from; during the 1800s, makeup was made of the stuff, and if you sat too close to a fireplace, it would melt right off. A screen was constructed to be placed in front of the fire so the flames wouldn't get into the makeup, but if you still suffered from melty makeup, someone would say to you, "Madam, mind your beeswax" and you'd dash off to the powder room for a reapplying and...I don't know what else happened at White House parties in the 1800s. Snuff-taking? Debates over cigars? Pistol-whipping?
Another fun fact: The West Wing was built by Teddy Roosevelt after he told his daughter she could ride her pony around the East Room ballroom, and the noise drove him to such distraction he was forced to construct a whole new chunk of the House. Cool dad you got there, Alice. Also, Teddy Roosevelt got frickin' SHOT while he delivered a speech and KEPT. DELIVERING. HIS. SPEECH. #badass
Due to the inclement weather the press conference was held in that East Room, where Obama signed the new health care bill into law. Therefore, it's the same room where Joe Biden said 'This is a big fucking deal', which I got a HUGE kick out of. Jenna and I tried to go downstairs to use the bathroom but we were told Michelle was on her way up, so we immediately scampered back to the holding area!
We ended up waiting in the Blue Room, which is directly below the Oval Office, after leaving our bags in the Dining Room (including all cameras, so sadly I didn't get any candids of anyone). The wait was different from last year. Last year, there was a deadly silence, like people were afraid to even breathe. This year, everyone was talking and relaxed. Our awesome organizer led Jenna, Todd, Dad and I to the side of the room Barack and Michelle would be entering from so we'd get to greet them first. Jenna had the unfortunate position of being first among us, and she turned to us with panic in her eyes, saying "I don't want to be first! What do I do?!"
But it was too late. Because no sooner had she turned around to freak out...there they were.
"Jenna, turn around!" I hissed.
She turned, and her eyes grew to a size I thought only existed in Japanese animation. Because there they were. The President and the First Lady. Barack Obama just high-fived my Dad.
First of all, the room went silent again just like last year, but this time it wasn't the kind of silence where you could tell the majority of people in the room were trying very hard not to wet themselves (and I include myself in this category). This time, it was a respectful, giddy silence. Although when they saw Michelle (which was a surprise to everyone except Maya), they all kind of squealed and jumped a bit.
Obama looked about the same as last year, except thinner and grayer around the temples. He's still an extraordinarily handsome individual, and this time he didn't smell like smoke. Michelle Obama, I must say, is almost unreal looking. She's that gorgeous (and, I must say, ripped. Jenna and I couldn't stop talking about her eyebrows, oddly enough. They are perfectly shaped! As I shook her hand I wanted so badly to mention how I loved her work with kids, and how I worked at J.Crew, and how much I respected her as a strong role model for young girls...but all that came out was, 'HI IT'S SO NICE TO MEET YOU' while I tried not to stare at her humongous diamond earrings, which were the only fancy things about her outfit (J.Crew city-fit cargo pants and flats! Represent!). She mentioned to us that she didn't come down for any other sports teams aside from this one, not even the Lakers, as Barack pointed out. "She doesn't come down for ANY of this stuff!" Also, the connection he and Michelle have as a couple is pretty extraordinary to witness. They walked in barely three centimeters apart from each other, and display wonderful chemistry. When Barack talked to us, I managed to sneak some peeks at his wedding ring - I have a thing about ring design.
After the picture, Barack and Michelle went to meet with the rest of the team while Jenna and Todd and I made our way to our seats in the East Room. The speech was pretty standard and it's been transcribed elsewhere, although the lines about Dad not being able to do math and our winning streak extending back to when Obama got elected were hilarious. We gave him the gifts of a jersey with his name on it and a signed basketball, and Dad managed to throw in a few one-liners of his own.
Then he was gone and it was over. We hung out in the main lobby for about twenty minutes, and I got a picture next to the giant portrait of Bill Clinton (my choice of portraits came down to him and JFK, but the Clinton one had better lighting) and fought off the urge to start gnawing on my cardigan in hunger. Lunch ended up being at Ebbitt's Grill, a fantastic casual dining bar and grill near the White House, and I must say, if you ever go to D.C. and are looking for a good turkey burger, you won't get much better than the one there. And the butterscotch blondie? Perfection. Dad's secretary brought her daughter, Jane, as an early birthday present, and we asked the servers to put a candle in her strawberry shortcake. Sadly, they did not do so, but we told her about it anyway just to let her know we were thinking of her.
After a two hour bus drive back to Maryland (if I ever work in D.C., I will LIVE there, not commute. My goodness, what a bear!), we actually arrived early for our flight. I spent the hour in the air attempting the New York Times crossword with Dad, and we got everything except one four-letter word that stumped everyone.
When I got home I ate dark chocolate almond butter straight from the jar. Barack Obama had shook my hand. Celebration deserved.
ally
PS. Todd told us after the press conference that during the photo with the President, when attempting to put his arm around Barack, he may have accidentally brushed the Commander in Chief's buttcheek. 'I should've just grabbed it,' he said.
So, yesterday, I met President Barack Obama.
Again.
I'll try and remember everything, but so much came at me in the twelve hours I spent in Washington, some of it is a grand blur. The day began at the unsaintly hour of 5:25 AM because a certain insane person scheduled our flight at 7:30 and another, even more insane person had to take fifty bobby pins out of her hair. Yes, ladies and gents. I pincurled my hair for Obama. I was a glass of Ovaltine away from being a 50s housewife.
After wolfing down a cherry smoothie and toast for breakfast (and packing a granola bar because lunch wouldn't be until 2:30!), I drove with Dad to TAC Air accompanied by Jenna and Todd, who were making the trip in lieu of my brother and Mom. Mom met Obama last year with us, so unlike me, she decided to stay home.
The plane ride to Washington was uneventful, save for a slightly heated debate between Dad and I about the differences between Republicans and Democrats. Honestly, I have no problem with fiscal Republicans. Indeed, I myself probably identify more with them than I do with fiscal Democrats; I believe in the value of really working for your money and not expecting the government to do everything for you. It's the social aspect of Democratic Liberalism that I really identify with, and I kept trying to explain that to Dad (who is a SERIOUS fiscal conservative) and it turned into a huge thing. I blame CD, who brought up politics in the first place. That being said, Dad really likes Obama and voted for him, so the day wasn't awkward in the slightest in that respect. We also had the same ideas about how to deal with the immigration issues, but when Dad suggested I tell them to the President, I just laughed. Why the heck would I ruin a perfectly pleasant photo-op with talk of the mess in AZ? Although sidebar: AZ, you are horrifying to the rest of the country (at least, the smart, sane parts). The last time the words 'show me your papers' were uttered in the past hundred years, a certain annoying man with a mustache was ruling Germany.
Anyway!! We landed in the midst of a very wet and rainy Baltimore Airport, and Dad proceeded to tell us that the drive to Walter Reed Hospital would take about half an hour to forty-five minutes. It took an hour and a half. I slept for about forty-five minutes of it on Dad's shoulder, and I woke up with a crick in my neck and a view of nonstop traffic for the next few miles. When we finally got to Walter Reed, we split up into our designated two groups. Group 1, my group, consisted of the team and additional staffers like Rosie and our videographer Keith, my family, and a few trustees along with Jeff Hathaway, and we went into the main hospital to talk to the 'Wounded Warriors.' Group two went to the veterans center and met with the soldiers there.
Meeting the injured soldiers was humbling. We had to get our hands sprayed with disinfectant when entering and exiting a patient's room. Cards were displayed on the walls from discharged soldiers thanking the hospital staff. And it was surprising how many of them had great senses of humor about their situation. The first guy we met, an SPC who had been stationed in Afghanistan, had only been overseas for three months and hadn't seen a lick of combat before his injury. A bomb ended up exploding near him, breaking a few bones in his legs. He was my favorite out of all of the guys because of the amazing personality, humor, and wit he displayed. He had zero qualms about showing us his x-rays and spoke with almost gleeful zest about his shattered femur. He was also a Watertown, CT, native, and when he found out my sister teaches at the highschool his own alma mater is rivals with, he immediately called out "We are going to kick your ass this year!"
Not all of the soldiers were so forthcoming. One man, a sergeant, had only arrived the day before after being injured last week. He was covered in a blanket so I couldn't see his wounds, but they seemed severe. We asked him questions and he answered them truthfully, but all the while his eyes wandered back to his TV, which was positioned above his bed in front of his face, and his face was glazed over in an expression that said, "How did I get here?"
The common denominator of all the men there? When asked if they'll go back to their posts overseas, they immediately said yes.
While we were waiting for Group 2 to get back, I chatted with Maya and Jenna for a bit and Jenna accidentally let it slip that not only would Barack be greeting us, so would Michelle Obama! Maya and I totally freaked out. As much as I love Obama, I think I love Michelle even more. I find her to be such an incredible example of a strong, healthy, passionate, powerful woman. Her commitment to children's health is something I find so inspiring, and her marriage to Obama is such a great example of what makes a union work. Plus, I worked at J.Crew during election season 2008, and when she wore that geometric patterned skirt and sweater on Jay Leno, our sales went through the roof.
After Walter Reed, we hopped back on the bus and drove to D.C. After walking up to the White House gate with Dad, he had to turn around to grab his I.D. (after he reminded me fifteen times last night 'make sure you've got your I.D.! DO YOU HAVE YOUR I.D.?!'). I ended up walking with Rosie because she had an umbrella and I had left my jacket on the bus.
After going through security and walking into the East Wing, we were greeted by the same White House staffers that had briefed us last year. It was a real treat to see them again, as I had thought them to be quite professional and very nice. They took us on the tour, which I thought would be a total retread of last year's, but the guy who took us was actually the same guy as last year so he thought he should come up with new trivia for us to learn, so despite walking through the same hallways and rooms and hearing a bit of the same stuff as last year-no way, the Jackie Kennedy Garden is named after Jackie Kennedy? Surely you jest!-there were a lot of very fun facts to be gleaned from it regardless.
My favorite tidbit was the one about President Tyler, who demanded his official presidential portrait be painted of him holding a piece of crumpled up newspaper in his hand to show his hatred of the press. When asked by the painter if he was sure about that choice, Tyler retorted, "Who's the President? Me or you?" We also learned where the phrase 'mind your beeswax' comes from; during the 1800s, makeup was made of the stuff, and if you sat too close to a fireplace, it would melt right off. A screen was constructed to be placed in front of the fire so the flames wouldn't get into the makeup, but if you still suffered from melty makeup, someone would say to you, "Madam, mind your beeswax" and you'd dash off to the powder room for a reapplying and...I don't know what else happened at White House parties in the 1800s. Snuff-taking? Debates over cigars? Pistol-whipping?
Another fun fact: The West Wing was built by Teddy Roosevelt after he told his daughter she could ride her pony around the East Room ballroom, and the noise drove him to such distraction he was forced to construct a whole new chunk of the House. Cool dad you got there, Alice. Also, Teddy Roosevelt got frickin' SHOT while he delivered a speech and KEPT. DELIVERING. HIS. SPEECH. #badass
Due to the inclement weather the press conference was held in that East Room, where Obama signed the new health care bill into law. Therefore, it's the same room where Joe Biden said 'This is a big fucking deal', which I got a HUGE kick out of. Jenna and I tried to go downstairs to use the bathroom but we were told Michelle was on her way up, so we immediately scampered back to the holding area!
We ended up waiting in the Blue Room, which is directly below the Oval Office, after leaving our bags in the Dining Room (including all cameras, so sadly I didn't get any candids of anyone). The wait was different from last year. Last year, there was a deadly silence, like people were afraid to even breathe. This year, everyone was talking and relaxed. Our awesome organizer led Jenna, Todd, Dad and I to the side of the room Barack and Michelle would be entering from so we'd get to greet them first. Jenna had the unfortunate position of being first among us, and she turned to us with panic in her eyes, saying "I don't want to be first! What do I do?!"
But it was too late. Because no sooner had she turned around to freak out...there they were.
"Jenna, turn around!" I hissed.
She turned, and her eyes grew to a size I thought only existed in Japanese animation. Because there they were. The President and the First Lady. Barack Obama just high-fived my Dad.
First of all, the room went silent again just like last year, but this time it wasn't the kind of silence where you could tell the majority of people in the room were trying very hard not to wet themselves (and I include myself in this category). This time, it was a respectful, giddy silence. Although when they saw Michelle (which was a surprise to everyone except Maya), they all kind of squealed and jumped a bit.
Obama looked about the same as last year, except thinner and grayer around the temples. He's still an extraordinarily handsome individual, and this time he didn't smell like smoke. Michelle Obama, I must say, is almost unreal looking. She's that gorgeous (and, I must say, ripped. Jenna and I couldn't stop talking about her eyebrows, oddly enough. They are perfectly shaped! As I shook her hand I wanted so badly to mention how I loved her work with kids, and how I worked at J.Crew, and how much I respected her as a strong role model for young girls...but all that came out was, 'HI IT'S SO NICE TO MEET YOU' while I tried not to stare at her humongous diamond earrings, which were the only fancy things about her outfit (J.Crew city-fit cargo pants and flats! Represent!). She mentioned to us that she didn't come down for any other sports teams aside from this one, not even the Lakers, as Barack pointed out. "She doesn't come down for ANY of this stuff!" Also, the connection he and Michelle have as a couple is pretty extraordinary to witness. They walked in barely three centimeters apart from each other, and display wonderful chemistry. When Barack talked to us, I managed to sneak some peeks at his wedding ring - I have a thing about ring design.
After the picture, Barack and Michelle went to meet with the rest of the team while Jenna and Todd and I made our way to our seats in the East Room. The speech was pretty standard and it's been transcribed elsewhere, although the lines about Dad not being able to do math and our winning streak extending back to when Obama got elected were hilarious. We gave him the gifts of a jersey with his name on it and a signed basketball, and Dad managed to throw in a few one-liners of his own.
Then he was gone and it was over. We hung out in the main lobby for about twenty minutes, and I got a picture next to the giant portrait of Bill Clinton (my choice of portraits came down to him and JFK, but the Clinton one had better lighting) and fought off the urge to start gnawing on my cardigan in hunger. Lunch ended up being at Ebbitt's Grill, a fantastic casual dining bar and grill near the White House, and I must say, if you ever go to D.C. and are looking for a good turkey burger, you won't get much better than the one there. And the butterscotch blondie? Perfection. Dad's secretary brought her daughter, Jane, as an early birthday present, and we asked the servers to put a candle in her strawberry shortcake. Sadly, they did not do so, but we told her about it anyway just to let her know we were thinking of her.
After a two hour bus drive back to Maryland (if I ever work in D.C., I will LIVE there, not commute. My goodness, what a bear!), we actually arrived early for our flight. I spent the hour in the air attempting the New York Times crossword with Dad, and we got everything except one four-letter word that stumped everyone.
When I got home I ate dark chocolate almond butter straight from the jar. Barack Obama had shook my hand. Celebration deserved.
ally
PS. Todd told us after the press conference that during the photo with the President, when attempting to put his arm around Barack, he may have accidentally brushed the Commander in Chief's buttcheek. 'I should've just grabbed it,' he said.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
NEDAwareness 2014: So, Now What? Or, Now the Real Work Starts.
In a few posts, I've detailed my extensive history with binge eating, overeating, restricted eating, eating habits that bordered on orthorexia, eating habits permitted by overexercising ("I can eat until I feel sick because I'll just work out for two hours tomorrow I AM SO HEALTHY"), and then trying to get back to a place of health and wellness after a back injury. These topics are not new to me, or the blog, or to you as the reader. So for this NEDAwareness 2014 post, I am actually not going to retread that ground. Instead, I'm going to use this space to talk to you about possibly the scariest part of the whole deal - what the hell happens once you're on the road to recovery, or perhaps, what happens when you're nearly recovered? Now what?
I've collated some various tips and advice from years and years of growing to understand my body and my mind, and I wanted to share them with you in case you are in the same position as I am - on the other side of disordered eating, and now slowly starting to deal with the mental stuff that is at the core of the problems to begin with. I will say that it's highly ironic that I'm writing a post about health and wellness when I'm currently battling the head cold from the depths of Mordor. Ah well.
Understand what the problem is, and go from there. I hate letting people down. I also hate feeling like I'm not utilizing my full potential. If you know anything about my family, they operate on the idea that if you work your ass off, you are capable of achieving anything you want in this world. Because of my personality type, this kind of doctrine can be incredibly helpful or extremely harmful. Knowing why you're doing the things you're doing is the first step to maintaining recovery. For me, the body image issues and tremendous physical punishment I inflicted on myself came from, yes, a definite place of wanting to be thinner (and as I've said numerous times, I did need to lose weight simply from a wellness standpoint) but it also came from a place of tremendous physical pressure I placed on myself of wanting to be the best at everything. I have to be everything to everybody, and I would rather die than disappoint my parents, so when my Mom sat me down at the age of 18 and gently told me I wasn't healthy and needed to get in shape, I listened. Probably a little too well, but I listened because I wanted to make her happy*. Once I understood this crucial issue and started trying to figure out what made me happy, it suddenly became a lot easier to let go of my punishing gym routine. I just have to be the best version of myself, and in many ways that has nothing to do with the size on the back of my jeans as long as I'm treating myself well.
*My mom is the best, most lovely person in the world and only wanted me to be healthy and happy. She was an overweight kid and didn't want me to have the same types of issues she did. Also, she's pushing 60 and does Insanity workouts. She could kick my ass.
Love your body however it ends up, and dress for your new shape. You could say that my body type is 'athletic' - broad shoulders, big legs, short legs, and a slight waist. The only way I could get myself down to a body type known as 'skinny' was to deplete myself of muscle mass. I was a size 2 for about three months, when I ate only egg whites and Swiss chard for dinner. Right now, my goals revolve around feeling strong. I also put on muscle very quickly, so at the moment I have enormous shoulders and pretty big legs. I look amazing in skirts, but the supermodel trend of layering tons of clothes in the winter makes me look like a homeless Zeppelin. I know what works for this new body after trial and error. I was frustrated at first with all of the various things I couldn't wear, but I was also pleased to see all of the really pretty things I COULD wear. Remember - sequins don't have a size!
You are going to cry ALL of the tears. Once I let go of the things that weren't serving me in a physical sense, all of the mental trauma and blocks I had placed in my brain suddenly burst open and I found myself completely unable to control my emotions. There were many, many times in the past year or so that I found myself crying over the smallest thing because I wasn't 'stuffing' my emotions with food or exercise. At first, I thought I was going crazy, but then I realized that all of the feelings I was hiding, all of the control I was exerting, all of that was coming to the surface. I do enough yoga to know that we keep all of our experiences in our bodies (relationship issues in our hips, emotional issues in our chests, etc.) and if we don't allow ourselves to process them they will emerge as eruptions. Once I started actually processing that stuff, it was like Vesuvius. Not being afraid of that is the key. Crying is awesome and therapeutic. The other night I cried my eyes out with my mom because the stress of waiting for PhD decisions was on my chest like a ton of bricks; I didn't binge or overexercise, I just allowed myself to feel the feelings. Afterwards, it felt like someone took that brick and crumbled it away. I did eat a BUNCH of Pumpkin Spice Hershey Kisses after that, but that's just a mandatory part of my day.
Get professional help. Yoga can only do so much. When I started up my practice again I considered it to be my therapy ("yoga is my CHURCH, everyone! Screw therapy and actual psychological support, YOGA!"), but now I realize that yoga, as wonderful and beneficial as it is, was putting a band-aid on my more intense traumas. As a result, I'm currently shopping around for a holistic therapist in the Manchester area. Of course you can talk out this stuff with your family and loved ones, but at some point you start to realize you want to spend your time with your loved ones simply loving them, not using them as an emotional dartboard. My boyfriend is possibly the most wonderful and patient person in the world, but he's been telling me for a solid year that getting a therapist would probably benefit me more because they'll be able to guide me through the practice of letting go of all of these issues, not just reiterating the issues for the sake of emotional cleansing.
Don't restrict any food, regardless of what people tell you. This is a trick I learned from a surprising source - Portia de Rossi, aka Mrs. Ellen DeGeneres. While promoting her book Unbearable Lightness, Portia told Oprah that one of the ways she got better from her extreme anorexia was to permit herself to eat any kind of food regardless of portion size and food type; that freedom gave her the permission to eat whatever she wanted, and she found that if she didn't restrict her food the compulsion to overeat or restrict food became more and more minimized. For a while, I was a vegan and because of that I considered myself recovered because, hey, I was eating tons of peanut butter and oils and all of that stuff I had considered "bad"! Woo hoo! Not really. I didn't want to eat meat or dairy because I was afraid they were going to make me fat. As a result, I was stringy and no amount of weight lifting would allow me to maintain muscle mass, and we all know how much muscle mass helps your heart and bones. I've discussed on here before how I cannot eat gluten due to a medical diagnosis, but other than that I allow myself to eat any kind of food given to me. I have to. Otherwise my control mechanisms will cause anxiety.
Surround yourself with people who don't give a shit about what you look like. This is huge. For a very long time I made it a point to only associate with 'cool' people, or people who talked shit about other people, or people who were 'clean'; aka, they worked out a ton and drank all the green juice and practiced body scrubbing on a daily basis and made their body into a temple of broccoli. As a result, I absolutely HATED what I looked like, because they made it subliminally clear to me that I needed to ramp up my physical game in order to be a better person. So I constantly felt like I needed to be more...something. Just more. Over the past few years I've started to clean those people out of my life (Facebook's "Hide All" is wonderful) and as a result, my brain is much more clear-headed. I hang out with people who love me because I'm a nerd, and because I try to be nice to everyone I meet. They couldn't give less of a shit about what pants size I wear, they care if I am a good person who enjoys a good glass or two of wine and eating artisan cheeses at 2AM, and they don't judge me if I end up falling asleep on the floor of their living room in a pile of half-finished crochet projects while watching Adventure Time.
I will add on a special PS to the above point - The more into the recovery process you are, the less inclined you will be to talk shit about other girls and their bodies, and the less inclined you will be to pay attention to the messages in the media that tell you to hate your body. A few weeks ago, I mentioned to a dear friend that I hated how people felt the need to tear down the bodies of others, and she said to me "That's a really good sign you think that, because it means you're feeling really good about yourself and your own journey." It's true. I really try to avoid talking about other people and their bodies, unless I think they're in a position of ill health. In an addendum to my discussion about Rachel Frederickson, I am relieved to see that she's put on at least 15 pounds since winning The Biggest Loser!
It's a journey, and sometimes the destination is a better understanding of yourself and your body. The great work begins and ends with you. You've got this. The more love you feel, the more you will give, and the more you will realize that you are more than your body.
"You don’t have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body, temporarily." - Walter M. Miller, Jr.
Work your soul.
alysa
I've collated some various tips and advice from years and years of growing to understand my body and my mind, and I wanted to share them with you in case you are in the same position as I am - on the other side of disordered eating, and now slowly starting to deal with the mental stuff that is at the core of the problems to begin with. I will say that it's highly ironic that I'm writing a post about health and wellness when I'm currently battling the head cold from the depths of Mordor. Ah well.
Understand what the problem is, and go from there. I hate letting people down. I also hate feeling like I'm not utilizing my full potential. If you know anything about my family, they operate on the idea that if you work your ass off, you are capable of achieving anything you want in this world. Because of my personality type, this kind of doctrine can be incredibly helpful or extremely harmful. Knowing why you're doing the things you're doing is the first step to maintaining recovery. For me, the body image issues and tremendous physical punishment I inflicted on myself came from, yes, a definite place of wanting to be thinner (and as I've said numerous times, I did need to lose weight simply from a wellness standpoint) but it also came from a place of tremendous physical pressure I placed on myself of wanting to be the best at everything. I have to be everything to everybody, and I would rather die than disappoint my parents, so when my Mom sat me down at the age of 18 and gently told me I wasn't healthy and needed to get in shape, I listened. Probably a little too well, but I listened because I wanted to make her happy*. Once I understood this crucial issue and started trying to figure out what made me happy, it suddenly became a lot easier to let go of my punishing gym routine. I just have to be the best version of myself, and in many ways that has nothing to do with the size on the back of my jeans as long as I'm treating myself well.
*My mom is the best, most lovely person in the world and only wanted me to be healthy and happy. She was an overweight kid and didn't want me to have the same types of issues she did. Also, she's pushing 60 and does Insanity workouts. She could kick my ass.
Love your body however it ends up, and dress for your new shape. You could say that my body type is 'athletic' - broad shoulders, big legs, short legs, and a slight waist. The only way I could get myself down to a body type known as 'skinny' was to deplete myself of muscle mass. I was a size 2 for about three months, when I ate only egg whites and Swiss chard for dinner. Right now, my goals revolve around feeling strong. I also put on muscle very quickly, so at the moment I have enormous shoulders and pretty big legs. I look amazing in skirts, but the supermodel trend of layering tons of clothes in the winter makes me look like a homeless Zeppelin. I know what works for this new body after trial and error. I was frustrated at first with all of the various things I couldn't wear, but I was also pleased to see all of the really pretty things I COULD wear. Remember - sequins don't have a size!
You are going to cry ALL of the tears. Once I let go of the things that weren't serving me in a physical sense, all of the mental trauma and blocks I had placed in my brain suddenly burst open and I found myself completely unable to control my emotions. There were many, many times in the past year or so that I found myself crying over the smallest thing because I wasn't 'stuffing' my emotions with food or exercise. At first, I thought I was going crazy, but then I realized that all of the feelings I was hiding, all of the control I was exerting, all of that was coming to the surface. I do enough yoga to know that we keep all of our experiences in our bodies (relationship issues in our hips, emotional issues in our chests, etc.) and if we don't allow ourselves to process them they will emerge as eruptions. Once I started actually processing that stuff, it was like Vesuvius. Not being afraid of that is the key. Crying is awesome and therapeutic. The other night I cried my eyes out with my mom because the stress of waiting for PhD decisions was on my chest like a ton of bricks; I didn't binge or overexercise, I just allowed myself to feel the feelings. Afterwards, it felt like someone took that brick and crumbled it away. I did eat a BUNCH of Pumpkin Spice Hershey Kisses after that, but that's just a mandatory part of my day.
Get professional help. Yoga can only do so much. When I started up my practice again I considered it to be my therapy ("yoga is my CHURCH, everyone! Screw therapy and actual psychological support, YOGA!"), but now I realize that yoga, as wonderful and beneficial as it is, was putting a band-aid on my more intense traumas. As a result, I'm currently shopping around for a holistic therapist in the Manchester area. Of course you can talk out this stuff with your family and loved ones, but at some point you start to realize you want to spend your time with your loved ones simply loving them, not using them as an emotional dartboard. My boyfriend is possibly the most wonderful and patient person in the world, but he's been telling me for a solid year that getting a therapist would probably benefit me more because they'll be able to guide me through the practice of letting go of all of these issues, not just reiterating the issues for the sake of emotional cleansing.
Don't restrict any food, regardless of what people tell you. This is a trick I learned from a surprising source - Portia de Rossi, aka Mrs. Ellen DeGeneres. While promoting her book Unbearable Lightness, Portia told Oprah that one of the ways she got better from her extreme anorexia was to permit herself to eat any kind of food regardless of portion size and food type; that freedom gave her the permission to eat whatever she wanted, and she found that if she didn't restrict her food the compulsion to overeat or restrict food became more and more minimized. For a while, I was a vegan and because of that I considered myself recovered because, hey, I was eating tons of peanut butter and oils and all of that stuff I had considered "bad"! Woo hoo! Not really. I didn't want to eat meat or dairy because I was afraid they were going to make me fat. As a result, I was stringy and no amount of weight lifting would allow me to maintain muscle mass, and we all know how much muscle mass helps your heart and bones. I've discussed on here before how I cannot eat gluten due to a medical diagnosis, but other than that I allow myself to eat any kind of food given to me. I have to. Otherwise my control mechanisms will cause anxiety.
Surround yourself with people who don't give a shit about what you look like. This is huge. For a very long time I made it a point to only associate with 'cool' people, or people who talked shit about other people, or people who were 'clean'; aka, they worked out a ton and drank all the green juice and practiced body scrubbing on a daily basis and made their body into a temple of broccoli. As a result, I absolutely HATED what I looked like, because they made it subliminally clear to me that I needed to ramp up my physical game in order to be a better person. So I constantly felt like I needed to be more...something. Just more. Over the past few years I've started to clean those people out of my life (Facebook's "Hide All" is wonderful) and as a result, my brain is much more clear-headed. I hang out with people who love me because I'm a nerd, and because I try to be nice to everyone I meet. They couldn't give less of a shit about what pants size I wear, they care if I am a good person who enjoys a good glass or two of wine and eating artisan cheeses at 2AM, and they don't judge me if I end up falling asleep on the floor of their living room in a pile of half-finished crochet projects while watching Adventure Time.
I will add on a special PS to the above point - The more into the recovery process you are, the less inclined you will be to talk shit about other girls and their bodies, and the less inclined you will be to pay attention to the messages in the media that tell you to hate your body. A few weeks ago, I mentioned to a dear friend that I hated how people felt the need to tear down the bodies of others, and she said to me "That's a really good sign you think that, because it means you're feeling really good about yourself and your own journey." It's true. I really try to avoid talking about other people and their bodies, unless I think they're in a position of ill health. In an addendum to my discussion about Rachel Frederickson, I am relieved to see that she's put on at least 15 pounds since winning The Biggest Loser!
It's a journey, and sometimes the destination is a better understanding of yourself and your body. The great work begins and ends with you. You've got this. The more love you feel, the more you will give, and the more you will realize that you are more than your body.
"You don’t have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body, temporarily." - Walter M. Miller, Jr.
Work your soul.
alysa
Friday, February 7, 2014
"If we're lucky, our addictions don't kill us": On Addiction.
Food addiction is scoffed at. It's one of the only things you can't decide to never have again if you realize you're addicted to it. Alcoholics get rehabbed and never drink again if they're lucky. Drug addicts get rehabbed and never do drugs again if they're lucky. You literally can't live without food. So for me, every time I wake up in the morning I make conscious decisions to eat in a way that supports me. I don't disallow any type of food except processed fast food and gluten (both of which hurt my stomach).
Addiction, and the judgment it breeds, has on my mind since last weekend when I found out about the death of Philip Seymour Hoffman. The news of his death crushed me; we've lost a bunch of actors and singers to drugs over the years, but this was the first time I felt genuinely rocked to my core about a loss of this kind. And due to the various comments and judgements being laid out about the manner in which he died, I felt like I had to make a statement.
Addiction is not a choice. It's never a choice, and it never will be a choice. It might look selfish on the outside, but it isn't. Some are chemically predisposed to addiction because of genetics. Others decide to do something once and that's the end of that. Others try something and then, because of that predisposition or personality type, will instantly become addicted.
I know I have the capacity to be intensely addicted to things; that's why when I was in college I never smoked pot and never took heavy drugs even though the opportunity was presented to me to do both of those things. I think I knew on a cellular level that if I started I would probably get attached to it.
I've talked about my disordered eating on the blog in generalized terms, but I thought I'd go further into the mindset I was in during that time after seeing what's going on with comments being made about Hoffman's death. I'm not equating food addiction with heroin use, of course. But I am equating pain with pain, and the things we keep buried, and the way addiction can grab hold of even the ones we think are the strongest. Cory Monteith had been clean for a while before his death last summer; the addiction makes you think you can handle it again, and before you can grab your mind back, it's too late. It has you. I can relate to that, for sure, even if I've never wanted to use heroin. (I saw Trainspotting when I was 17 and it made me never want to do any sort of drug, ever.)
I'm not going to give you any sordid details on what I specifically did in my disordered days because A) I've already beaten that topic to death in various posts and B) I don't want to give anyone 'tips' for their own addictions. If you are curious as to what I went through in more specified terms, google "EDNOS" (Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified) and look at the lists that pop up. You name it, I probably tried it.
My addictions were compulsive behaviors related to food. I did them even when I knew it was wrong. Addiction cannot be reasoned with or shut off. In the very act of my compulsions, I would feel as if buckets of guilt were being poured over my head. That didn't stop me from doing it. I would hear a voice in the logic center of my brain saying, quite calmly, What you are doing is wrong. This is bad for you. You shouldn't be treating yourself like this. Stop. But then that part of my brain that was entirely overrun with the disease that is addiction would slowly come into room like a burglar and cut the power lines.
EDNOS are still highly misunderstood and de-legitimized, and because of that I felt like my compulsions were normal. The reason I engaged in these disorders is simple, yet pretty life-shattering - I thought I had to be perfect at everything, to be absolutely everything for everybody, and because of that, the cracks got bigger and bigger until I couldn't hold it together anymore. When I left New York I felt like I had failed everyone in my life - despite the fact that I had received numerous phone calls, emails, and text messages from friends and family telling me how proud they were. All of this was created in my head by those lovely Vampires of Despair.
The minute I got off my own back, I started realizing that I didn't want to engage in those behaviors. I wanted to be a better person for everyone in my life. I got better by treating my yoga as therapy, allowing myself moments in the day to take huge, deep breaths, giving myself permission to talk about my issues to friends and family. Now, if I have a problem or I'm feeling panicky, I actually talk through it. I'm much more emotional and vulnerable than I've ever been and I think that's because I give myself permission to be those things. When I don't allow myself to be vulnerable, the addiction pops up like "HAY GIRL HAY, LET'S DO THIS."
Because my addictions were a comfort ritual designed to ease anxiety, my anxiety can become an issue. That's where a lot of addicts of this kind trip up. Without the addiction, they have to live, and for some of us, the idea of facing the world is a lot to handle. Accepting the fact that I am fallible, that I am vulnerable, and that I am broken, actually helps me to accept myself as a pretty great person with a lot of gifts to offer. I can't be everything to everybody, but what I am is pretty special.
Addiction is never a choice. And sometimes, tragically, the addiction wins.
Do yourself a favor and watch a Philip Seymour Hoffman movie sometime soon. He was the finest actor of his generation, and the cinematic world is darker without him in it.
ally
PS. On a similar note, I was incredibly stressed out and triggered by what happened on The Biggest Loser finale; I pacing my room at 1AM, scrolling through all of the messages from people just as freaked as I. But Rachel is the same age I was when I was at the height of my disorder. Hopefully her low weight was a result of body-building type dehydration tactic (which is NOT okay, but competition is competition), not an eating disorder, and hopefully she reaches a place of mental and physical balance. I am a huge fan of Jillian Michaels and what she stands for, and I hope The Biggest Loser eventually reexamines its requirements and standards for healthy living and changing your life. Additionally, I think anyone can be healthy and happy at any weight as long as that weight is one that works for you and sustains you. Thinness isn't a standard of health.
Addiction, and the judgment it breeds, has on my mind since last weekend when I found out about the death of Philip Seymour Hoffman. The news of his death crushed me; we've lost a bunch of actors and singers to drugs over the years, but this was the first time I felt genuinely rocked to my core about a loss of this kind. And due to the various comments and judgements being laid out about the manner in which he died, I felt like I had to make a statement.
Addiction is not a choice. It's never a choice, and it never will be a choice. It might look selfish on the outside, but it isn't. Some are chemically predisposed to addiction because of genetics. Others decide to do something once and that's the end of that. Others try something and then, because of that predisposition or personality type, will instantly become addicted.
I know I have the capacity to be intensely addicted to things; that's why when I was in college I never smoked pot and never took heavy drugs even though the opportunity was presented to me to do both of those things. I think I knew on a cellular level that if I started I would probably get attached to it.
I've talked about my disordered eating on the blog in generalized terms, but I thought I'd go further into the mindset I was in during that time after seeing what's going on with comments being made about Hoffman's death. I'm not equating food addiction with heroin use, of course. But I am equating pain with pain, and the things we keep buried, and the way addiction can grab hold of even the ones we think are the strongest. Cory Monteith had been clean for a while before his death last summer; the addiction makes you think you can handle it again, and before you can grab your mind back, it's too late. It has you. I can relate to that, for sure, even if I've never wanted to use heroin. (I saw Trainspotting when I was 17 and it made me never want to do any sort of drug, ever.)
I'm not going to give you any sordid details on what I specifically did in my disordered days because A) I've already beaten that topic to death in various posts and B) I don't want to give anyone 'tips' for their own addictions. If you are curious as to what I went through in more specified terms, google "EDNOS" (Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified) and look at the lists that pop up. You name it, I probably tried it.
My addictions were compulsive behaviors related to food. I did them even when I knew it was wrong. Addiction cannot be reasoned with or shut off. In the very act of my compulsions, I would feel as if buckets of guilt were being poured over my head. That didn't stop me from doing it. I would hear a voice in the logic center of my brain saying, quite calmly, What you are doing is wrong. This is bad for you. You shouldn't be treating yourself like this. Stop. But then that part of my brain that was entirely overrun with the disease that is addiction would slowly come into room like a burglar and cut the power lines.
EDNOS are still highly misunderstood and de-legitimized, and because of that I felt like my compulsions were normal. The reason I engaged in these disorders is simple, yet pretty life-shattering - I thought I had to be perfect at everything, to be absolutely everything for everybody, and because of that, the cracks got bigger and bigger until I couldn't hold it together anymore. When I left New York I felt like I had failed everyone in my life - despite the fact that I had received numerous phone calls, emails, and text messages from friends and family telling me how proud they were. All of this was created in my head by those lovely Vampires of Despair.
The minute I got off my own back, I started realizing that I didn't want to engage in those behaviors. I wanted to be a better person for everyone in my life. I got better by treating my yoga as therapy, allowing myself moments in the day to take huge, deep breaths, giving myself permission to talk about my issues to friends and family. Now, if I have a problem or I'm feeling panicky, I actually talk through it. I'm much more emotional and vulnerable than I've ever been and I think that's because I give myself permission to be those things. When I don't allow myself to be vulnerable, the addiction pops up like "HAY GIRL HAY, LET'S DO THIS."
Because my addictions were a comfort ritual designed to ease anxiety, my anxiety can become an issue. That's where a lot of addicts of this kind trip up. Without the addiction, they have to live, and for some of us, the idea of facing the world is a lot to handle. Accepting the fact that I am fallible, that I am vulnerable, and that I am broken, actually helps me to accept myself as a pretty great person with a lot of gifts to offer. I can't be everything to everybody, but what I am is pretty special.
Addiction is never a choice. And sometimes, tragically, the addiction wins.
Do yourself a favor and watch a Philip Seymour Hoffman movie sometime soon. He was the finest actor of his generation, and the cinematic world is darker without him in it.
ally
PS. On a similar note, I was incredibly stressed out and triggered by what happened on The Biggest Loser finale; I pacing my room at 1AM, scrolling through all of the messages from people just as freaked as I. But Rachel is the same age I was when I was at the height of my disorder. Hopefully her low weight was a result of body-building type dehydration tactic (which is NOT okay, but competition is competition), not an eating disorder, and hopefully she reaches a place of mental and physical balance. I am a huge fan of Jillian Michaels and what she stands for, and I hope The Biggest Loser eventually reexamines its requirements and standards for healthy living and changing your life. Additionally, I think anyone can be healthy and happy at any weight as long as that weight is one that works for you and sustains you. Thinness isn't a standard of health.
Friday, January 17, 2014
Disney's Frozen: A Totally Rational and Logical Post. (SPOILERS)
I get a lot of questions about my scholarship, most of which hinge around the basic query "So..what exactly do you do?"
My academic answer to that is "I study children's literature from a gender and sexuality perspective with a concentration in theatrical performance; that is, I use my studies to consider the intersection of gender and sexual expression in texts geared toward children while using the constructs of dramatic tradition."
My shorter answer to that is "I get paid to read books and watch movies and beat them to death with critical analysis about gender until I sometimes can't enjoy them anymore."
I like to read very deeply into things. Probably too deeply into things. It can sometimes get in the way of my overall enjoyment of something. There have been plenty of times in which I've watched a movie and come away from it with a small complaint about how the gender roles were treated that can threaten my enjoyment of the entire film. Usually I can keep it under wraps until I can find a good outlet to discuss it, but sometimes it just can't wait. It drives the boyfriend bananas, because he's one of those people who can just watch a film, decide if he liked or disliked it, and then that's the end of that. I find this skill downright magical, although it's caused some headaches at times because he just wants to watch a damn movie and enjoy it for what it is, meanwhile I'm practically writing a conference paper in my head about it by the time we've gotten back in the car.
I have taught on the animated films of Disney in the past, and I plan to teach it again this semester. I find the entire paradox of my enjoyment in Disney films fascinating. On one hand, the single-minded portrayal of all women becoming or being born 'princesses' and that the heroines are always princess with the exception of Lilo (who is what, like, twelve?) is kind of gross, and the story usually ends with a wedding after a very brief courtship, and usually it's a "love at first sight" kind of thing, and the prince or male hero is usually duller than a box of hair (Prince Eric, Aladdin, John Smith, I COULD GO ON, THEY ARE ALL BORING), and the evil villain is usually a stepmother, or alternate female figure, and usually she's insanely beautiful in an ice-cold way, or she's a giant behemoth with enormous boobs.
Do not get me wrong - I am completely obsessed with Disney movies from a genuine place in my heart. It's just that as I've gotten older I've started to see all of the messed-up things that Disney movies teach girls: value is only imparted if you are a Princess, beautiful with a superbly thin waist with a rope of hair the size of most people's upper torsos, and the end of the movie (or life) is the saying of marriage vows to a person you probably met like a day before. It's not that great for boys either - heroics and bulging pecs are the way to happiness (like, all of them) or you have to be a seriously complicated dude with rage issues that can only be fixed with lurve (looking at you, Beast).
This tradition of two-dimensional animated characters - two dimensional in more ways than one - was something that increasingly bothered me about Disney movies in general. I was pleasantly surprised at the giddy vulnerability in Tangled, but I thought they could have done more with the character of Mother Gothel. There was still a cardboard sensibility to the females in the script, and I hoped they would continue to work on this aspect of the tale. (Although how great was it that the girl did all of the saving?!)
When I heard about the newest installment in the Disney Princesses canon, Frozen, based on Hans Christian Andersen's story "The Snow Queen", I assumed Disney would be making a LOT of changes to the plot. After all, this is a story about a woman who kidnaps children by putting enchanted ice splinters in their eyes and hearts. So I was all prepared for the Disneyfication Effect: you know, the same one that made it possible for the Little Mermaid to not die at the end of the story in a weird religious allegory about animals having to 'earn' their immortal souls.
A ton of my friends saw it around Christmas, loved it and begged me to go see it as soon as possible. Then I read some critical articles that argued the merits of Frozen being a 'queer fairy tale,' and immediately made plans to see it at the earliest time possible.
Which explains why yesterday, at 3:10 PM, I was in a nearly empty theatre, ready to watch a Disney movie by myself. While wearing sweatpants, because only girls can wear sweatpants to a movie theater and not look like perverts.
I cannot even begin to describe to you the emotions I felt watching this film. It was as if Disney and the directors took all of things I loathe about traditional Disney Princess movies, jettisoned them, and replaced them with narratives that are downright inspiring to young girls, and even girls who aren't so young like myself. In order to get my thoughts a bit more linear, I've compiled them into list form. And most of these things revolve around Elsa, because ELSA IS AMAZING.
1. It's a love story about two sisters. "Do You Want To Build A Snowman" made me cry like a total loser in the first five minutes of Frozen. Elsa's powers aren't really explained although the Stone Trolls ask if it is something she was 'cursed with' or 'born with' and they definitively say she was 'born with it' (and I could read that in queer theory about six thousand ways to Sunday but I'll spare you) and the entire reason they keep her from using her powers is because she doesn't want to hurt anyone, and because she once nearly killed her sister and has to keep it on the DL. Those little moments prior to that injury, when the girls are swinging themselves around the great castle hall in the magic snow, just gave me so many flashbacks to playing with my sister during snow days and it made me cry even more. THEN they had to kill the damn parents! The moment the film cuts to Elsa sitting next to the door while her room fills with snow - I was blubbering like a damn baby. Not to mention the fact that the 'curse' of the movie's plot could only be solved by True Love, and the True Love ends up being the love Anna and Elsa have for each other, and the big declaration of Disneyfied love is just two sisters being like "I love you! I miss you!" AHHHH IT'S SO GOOD.
2. "Disney marriage plots" are dismissed as the utter bullshit they are. Frozen not only questions the concept of heteronormative 'true love' being the only thing in existence that matters to a young girl, it totally parodies it. When Anna and Prince Hans get engaged (after knowing each other for a total of 3 hours) and ask Elsa for their blessing, Elsa's response is like:
Meanwhile Anna thinks this is all totally reasonable and the two get into a bitchfight that seems so utterly real to my own experiences with an older sister. And then of course Anna does end up with a dude at the end but it's not the entire plot at all and it doesn't culminate in marriage - it culminates in Kristoff nervously asking Anna if he can kiss her and she just plants one on him while he stammers. I gotta admit though, "Love is an Open Door" was an adorable song and the bit "We finish each other's -" "Sandwiches!" made me laugh a LOT because it's an inside joke.
3. Prince Charming can sometimes be anything but. I sort of learned this lesson already in The Princess Bride, but when the twist happens and Prince Hans reveals his true colors, I legit felt my heart sink down in my feet. Because what girl hasn't had that happen to them? Who hasn't thought they had met THE ONE and then suddenly, through means varied and complex, found out that they were putting on their best face for the cameras and were really vindictive, vicious assholes? When Prince Hans said to Anna "If only someone loved you" it immediately sent me back to the sixth grade dance when I saw the guy I had a crush on dancing with someone else. Unlike The Atlantic which argued that this moment in Frozen is bad for little girls because kids want to see people getting married - um, no? - I think this is an amazingly teachable moment. It shows that you have to get to know someone before you commit to them. It shows that face value sometimes isn't all there is. And it shows that sometimes hot guys are assholes.
4. Olaf. Olaf was damn adorable. Not going to lie. Plus, they really made it feel like he loved Anna and wanted to help her out and I thought that was really nice. And Kristoff seriously struggling with telling Olaf that heat will make him melt was kind of fantastic.
5. Elsa.
I have many, many things to say about Elsa. Anna was a wonderful leading character, and Kristen Bell's voice is absolutely gorgeous, but don't get it twisted - this was Elsa's movie. I've already discussed a little bit of the other reasons why Elsa is so wonderfully amazing (her total shade-throwing at Hans and Anna, for one). I think what makes Elsa such a fascinating character is that she isn't a technical villain, nor is she a hero. She's just a human being who had something awful happen to her when she was a child and is deeply scarred by the experience and doesn't want to hurt anyone else again, least of all her sister whom she loves more than anything but can't show it.
I think, however, if I want to isolate my commentary to one moment/scene that defines why I absolutely love this entire movie, it would be this.
Other than the fact that Idina Menzel could sing the phone book and I'd be on board, where do I begin with this flawlessness? Elsa not bemoaning her powers or thinking they are a curse to hide, but actually flipping the switch and deciding to be her true self? The transformation of Elsa from a stiff, fearful block of ice into a RuPaul-esque snow goddess, hip-snapping realness and all? It's a surprisingly sexual scene, especially when she rips her bun out and when she gets into that glittery dress; she is shaking her hips like there's a damn drumbeat underneath her feet. The entire song builds like an orgasm. Yes, I said it and I'm not taking it back. Elsa is literally letting her hair down, finding her voice, and relishing her power. It isn't a curse in this moment; it's a damn blessing. Although it is kind of weird that the song lyrics go "that perfect girl is gone" and then the camera pans up and Elsa is like the literal image of icy perfection. But what can you do.
The metaphorical power of this scene is not to be denied - it can be read as an allegory of kids who are prescribed as 'different' being able to show what they're capable of. Additionally, Elsa doesn't have to give up her powers at the end of the film; she just figures out how to use it in a way that's the most beneficial to herself and others. Let me clarify that point: Elsa didn't have to give up the thing that makes her special. Not even as part of a plot device. Even Ariel had to give up her voice for a dude! Elsa don't give up SHIT for NOBODY.
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| WHIP YO' HAIR, ELSA. |
I could literally write a thousand pages about this one scene, but I will just say this - I think Elsa is one of the most complicated and fascinating characters Disney has ever committed to celluloid. Her big number isn't about love, or metaphorical dreams that aren't really attached to anything solid. She wants to be herself, and she's finally getting the chance to express her emotions. And she doesn't end the movie with a man or anything, she ends it with a better understanding of herself.
And now I'm going to stop, because I'm threatening to overload this post with too many feelings. I'll wrap it up with saying: Even if you don't like Disney movies, do yourself a solid and see Frozen. It'll be worth your while.
"Some people are worth melting for."
ally
PS. Also, playing in front of Frozen was the preview for Angelina Jolie's Maleficent which looks magnificent.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
All Is Coming.
Every year I complete an End of Year survey. This survey is something that I keep for my own personal use, much like other people keep gratitude journals. I've been doing it since 2002, and it's both hilarious and perspective-widening to look back at all of the things I thought were so earthshatteringly important when I was 17 or 18 or even 20.
One of the questions on the survey is "What did you do in (insert year here) that you've never done before?" When I was 20 - in 2005 - my answer to that question was Did two shows in a row, lost almost 30 pounds only to pack on six again in two-three weeks, got down to a size twelve for the first time in probably my life, bought a size-ten skirt, was a redhead for about three months, worked basketball camp for two straight weeks and loved it, stage managed a show and loved that too (Your flag is on fire! oooWHAAA!!), lived in a hotel for a month, moved into a new house when I was fully conscious of it happening (the last time I moved to a new house I was five and didn't really notice anything that was happening), was a lead in a college show, was a 'pretty girl' in a show (hey, it said that we were fair and beautiful of face IN THE SCRIPT), got drunk enough not to be called 'tipsy'.
Damn, this year really was momentous!
BAAAHAHAHHAHAAHAH. I cannot even believe how much of that revolved around my weight. Even my resolution for 2006 was to lose twenty more pounds.
For 2013, my answer to that question was this: Tried Ashtanga yoga, taught two classes at the same time, became an adjunct professor graduated with my Masters Degree, wrote a PhD application (x4), passed a Masters Candidate Exam, went to a friend's mother's funeral, tried a spin class, went to see Muse in concert (two nights in a row!), became a godmother, ran 9 miles, busted my sacroiliac joint, presented at a conference for Children's Literature, flew somewhere without my parents, went to Mississippi, wrote a paper for a critical anthology, went on hormone medication to combat depression, traveled to Cape Cod without my parents, did a bunch of yoga poses I've never attempted before, lived almost an entire summer at the Niantic shore, did a weightlifting program.
This year wasn't about the small things becoming big things, more so about the big things being insanely big life-altering things. This year was a year of change, growth, depression, grief, insane happiness, peace, and general understanding, and 2014 has the opportunity to completely change everything about my life. 2013 had some spectacular lows, but I guess that's part of getting older.
Last year, I told you that 2012 was the year I learned what love is. Oh, to be young and foolish. 2012 was when I was all "LOVE IS RAINBOWS AND LEPRECHAUNS FLYING OUT OF EVERYBODY'S BUTTS". Woof. That's not really love, that's just the first giddy flushes of what love eventually turns into. It isn't just the moments of blind euphoria, but the moments in which there are so many things that make you so.damn.mad and the times that your heart breaks. But then they do one thing that makes you bust a gut laughing or just put your head on their shoulder and breathe and realize holy shit you are the best person in my life because nobody else would not just put up with me but love me, even though I consistently leave my sweaty gym clothes on the floor and laugh way too loud at the movies and I wear all of my emotions on my face at the exact same time shockwave of wonder, at how I landed with this person who is so consistently granite in his support. 2014 will bring many changes, but that will not alter.
Part of that love goes towards oneself, of course...this life isn't much if you don't truly like the person who stares blearily at you from the mirror every morning while you chug some water and figure out what pants to pull on. Sometimes, that means chemical healing. Trying to solve every single physical or mental problem you have by yourself is exhausting. Going on medication this year was the best thing I've done for myself in quite some time; it helped me drop some inflammation, as well as some of the negative emotional weight. Depression and anxiety are not things you can just shake off. It is a chemical predisposition I've fought since I was about 12 years old. People who think it's solved with just yoga and green smoothies are deluding themselves. Depression is real. Get help if you can.
On a similar note...Facebook is a soapbox for everyone and their historical, karmic bullshit. Don't pay attention to it and you'll be much happier. And if it bothers you to have that crap on your feed...the "Hide All From User" button is a miraculous tool.
Speaking of tools...Despite what I just said about yoga not being the be-all-and-end-all medicinal tool, yoga is the one thing I consistently do that helps keep the panic and depression at bay. When I don't do it for longer than a few days I am a noticeably angrier, more volatile and emotional person. It doesn't take much yoga for me to be better; sometimes, just sitting very still and breathing is a valuable panacea.
For 2014, I have a few things on my list of Resolutions that I consider to be very indicative of the notion that's currently stewing inside of me - this next year is going to be crazy.
1. Start working on my doctorate. I find out in March whether or not I will go on to higher education in the fall of 2014, and more pressingly, whether or not I'm going to have to move states in order to achieve said educational status. I'm of course scared at the prospect, but sometimes fear is a valuable asset to one's personal growth. If I don't make it in for the 2014-2015 school year, I'll just keep on keepin' on with what I'm doing right now, which is adjuncting and writing and working part time. Either way, I'll be happy. It's just that one of those options would allow me to get much more sleep and would let me play with my nephews, like, whenever.
2. Continue my current yoga groove. The Salutations for Sandy Hook series has been really inspiring for me to get off my ass and into my asana. Currently I practice yoga 5x a week (2-3 hour long sessions, 1-2 half hour sessions) and I'd like to keep that going into the new year. Of course, it might not last at the intensity, but as long as I get some quality time on my mat 5x a week, I feel like a better person.
3. Read most, if not all, of the books. This year I made it a personal goal to put a pretty good dent into the books I own but haven't yet read; it's embarrassing how many of them there are. I did my best, but I also bought a ton of books and read them as well, so there are still a bunch in my bedroom and clogging up my house. Right now I'm reading Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosh and The Raven Queen by Jules Watson.
4. Finish the book(s). Yep. Baby's writing some books, y'all. Not at all what you think; I'm not collating my thoughts into a series of memoirs just yet. I'm only 28. I'm barely cooked. I'm still in the package for God's sake. So I'll just sit on that stuff until I actually have something valuable to contribute to the world of nonfiction essayists. But I do feel like I can contribute to Young Adult literature in a way that isn't about vampires or boy troubles against a dystopian landscape. Well, it's dystopic, but there's more of that dystopic bent to it rather than a treatise on BOYS AND FEELINGS. I should hopefully have it done later on in the year. Check back with me on that one.
5. Reevaluate my food. This summer was the closest I've gotten to the kind of eating that makes me happiest - lots of veggies, fruits, green smoothies, and a serious cutback on meat. I did a good job of keeping up at it this fall; this year was the first time I went through an entire semester of eating mindfully, and it was awesome. I'm going to make a concerted effort to make better choices about the ways in which I fuel my body for 2014. I barely eat red meat unless it's a special occasion, and I refuse to eat pork unless it's been cooked by my mother. This Rolling Stone article about the way we treat animals - particularly pigs - in mass farming systems made me cry and nearly barf. It is incredibly graphic with NSFW pictures involving animals, and it's made me seriously reevaluate my food choices. I just want to eat well in 2014, but in a way that is kinder to both my body and to the world. I know there will be days that I'll be running all over the place and the only thing available will be a protein bar. But I'll make do. I'm going to also attempt to stop drinking soda, if only because it gives me a headache. But it's so delicious, you guys....
6. Get onstage again. I didn't tell you guys about this, but a few weeks ago I auditioned for a play called Noises Off; it was the first play I've auditioned for in four years, and it took place at the same company I did The Vagina Monologues and The Musical Revue, and I was practically dry-heaving in the wings prior to every entrance. But I got through the two hour cold reading session and when I left, I felt the itch to be onstage settle on my skin like a bad rash. I was bummed not to get in Noises Off but it just spurred me to be better for the next time around. I'm auditioning for something else in the coming weeks, and I hope it comes through!
So. Those are my goals for 2014. They may not be very enumerative or even very big, but they're mine. And I hope that this blog will provide a space for me to complain, exalt, or rant. I have a feeling that 2014 will be very, very big indeed. It's why the title of this post is from Sri K. Pattabhi Jois, the modern-day father of Ashtanga yoga - "Practice, and all is coming." I have a feeling something's coming.
2013 was a trip. 2014 will be a rocketship. I've got my rocketship underpants*. Hold on to your butts.
ally
PS. If you don't read Calvin and Hobbes, see yourself out.
One of the questions on the survey is "What did you do in (insert year here) that you've never done before?" When I was 20 - in 2005 - my answer to that question was Did two shows in a row, lost almost 30 pounds only to pack on six again in two-three weeks, got down to a size twelve for the first time in probably my life, bought a size-ten skirt, was a redhead for about three months, worked basketball camp for two straight weeks and loved it, stage managed a show and loved that too (Your flag is on fire! oooWHAAA!!), lived in a hotel for a month, moved into a new house when I was fully conscious of it happening (the last time I moved to a new house I was five and didn't really notice anything that was happening), was a lead in a college show, was a 'pretty girl' in a show (hey, it said that we were fair and beautiful of face IN THE SCRIPT), got drunk enough not to be called 'tipsy'.
Damn, this year really was momentous!
BAAAHAHAHHAHAAHAH. I cannot even believe how much of that revolved around my weight. Even my resolution for 2006 was to lose twenty more pounds.
For 2013, my answer to that question was this: Tried Ashtanga yoga, taught two classes at the same time, became an adjunct professor graduated with my Masters Degree, wrote a PhD application (x4), passed a Masters Candidate Exam, went to a friend's mother's funeral, tried a spin class, went to see Muse in concert (two nights in a row!), became a godmother, ran 9 miles, busted my sacroiliac joint, presented at a conference for Children's Literature, flew somewhere without my parents, went to Mississippi, wrote a paper for a critical anthology, went on hormone medication to combat depression, traveled to Cape Cod without my parents, did a bunch of yoga poses I've never attempted before, lived almost an entire summer at the Niantic shore, did a weightlifting program.
This year wasn't about the small things becoming big things, more so about the big things being insanely big life-altering things. This year was a year of change, growth, depression, grief, insane happiness, peace, and general understanding, and 2014 has the opportunity to completely change everything about my life. 2013 had some spectacular lows, but I guess that's part of getting older.
Last year, I told you that 2012 was the year I learned what love is. Oh, to be young and foolish. 2012 was when I was all "LOVE IS RAINBOWS AND LEPRECHAUNS FLYING OUT OF EVERYBODY'S BUTTS". Woof. That's not really love, that's just the first giddy flushes of what love eventually turns into. It isn't just the moments of blind euphoria, but the moments in which there are so many things that make you so.damn.mad and the times that your heart breaks. But then they do one thing that makes you bust a gut laughing or just put your head on their shoulder and breathe and realize holy shit you are the best person in my life because nobody else would not just put up with me but love me, even though I consistently leave my sweaty gym clothes on the floor and laugh way too loud at the movies and I wear all of my emotions on my face at the exact same time shockwave of wonder, at how I landed with this person who is so consistently granite in his support. 2014 will bring many changes, but that will not alter.
Part of that love goes towards oneself, of course...this life isn't much if you don't truly like the person who stares blearily at you from the mirror every morning while you chug some water and figure out what pants to pull on. Sometimes, that means chemical healing. Trying to solve every single physical or mental problem you have by yourself is exhausting. Going on medication this year was the best thing I've done for myself in quite some time; it helped me drop some inflammation, as well as some of the negative emotional weight. Depression and anxiety are not things you can just shake off. It is a chemical predisposition I've fought since I was about 12 years old. People who think it's solved with just yoga and green smoothies are deluding themselves. Depression is real. Get help if you can.
On a similar note...Facebook is a soapbox for everyone and their historical, karmic bullshit. Don't pay attention to it and you'll be much happier. And if it bothers you to have that crap on your feed...the "Hide All From User" button is a miraculous tool.
Speaking of tools...Despite what I just said about yoga not being the be-all-and-end-all medicinal tool, yoga is the one thing I consistently do that helps keep the panic and depression at bay. When I don't do it for longer than a few days I am a noticeably angrier, more volatile and emotional person. It doesn't take much yoga for me to be better; sometimes, just sitting very still and breathing is a valuable panacea.
For 2014, I have a few things on my list of Resolutions that I consider to be very indicative of the notion that's currently stewing inside of me - this next year is going to be crazy.
1. Start working on my doctorate. I find out in March whether or not I will go on to higher education in the fall of 2014, and more pressingly, whether or not I'm going to have to move states in order to achieve said educational status. I'm of course scared at the prospect, but sometimes fear is a valuable asset to one's personal growth. If I don't make it in for the 2014-2015 school year, I'll just keep on keepin' on with what I'm doing right now, which is adjuncting and writing and working part time. Either way, I'll be happy. It's just that one of those options would allow me to get much more sleep and would let me play with my nephews, like, whenever.
2. Continue my current yoga groove. The Salutations for Sandy Hook series has been really inspiring for me to get off my ass and into my asana. Currently I practice yoga 5x a week (2-3 hour long sessions, 1-2 half hour sessions) and I'd like to keep that going into the new year. Of course, it might not last at the intensity, but as long as I get some quality time on my mat 5x a week, I feel like a better person.
3. Read most, if not all, of the books. This year I made it a personal goal to put a pretty good dent into the books I own but haven't yet read; it's embarrassing how many of them there are. I did my best, but I also bought a ton of books and read them as well, so there are still a bunch in my bedroom and clogging up my house. Right now I'm reading Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosh and The Raven Queen by Jules Watson.
4. Finish the book(s). Yep. Baby's writing some books, y'all. Not at all what you think; I'm not collating my thoughts into a series of memoirs just yet. I'm only 28. I'm barely cooked. I'm still in the package for God's sake. So I'll just sit on that stuff until I actually have something valuable to contribute to the world of nonfiction essayists. But I do feel like I can contribute to Young Adult literature in a way that isn't about vampires or boy troubles against a dystopian landscape. Well, it's dystopic, but there's more of that dystopic bent to it rather than a treatise on BOYS AND FEELINGS. I should hopefully have it done later on in the year. Check back with me on that one.
5. Reevaluate my food. This summer was the closest I've gotten to the kind of eating that makes me happiest - lots of veggies, fruits, green smoothies, and a serious cutback on meat. I did a good job of keeping up at it this fall; this year was the first time I went through an entire semester of eating mindfully, and it was awesome. I'm going to make a concerted effort to make better choices about the ways in which I fuel my body for 2014. I barely eat red meat unless it's a special occasion, and I refuse to eat pork unless it's been cooked by my mother. This Rolling Stone article about the way we treat animals - particularly pigs - in mass farming systems made me cry and nearly barf. It is incredibly graphic with NSFW pictures involving animals, and it's made me seriously reevaluate my food choices. I just want to eat well in 2014, but in a way that is kinder to both my body and to the world. I know there will be days that I'll be running all over the place and the only thing available will be a protein bar. But I'll make do. I'm going to also attempt to stop drinking soda, if only because it gives me a headache. But it's so delicious, you guys....
6. Get onstage again. I didn't tell you guys about this, but a few weeks ago I auditioned for a play called Noises Off; it was the first play I've auditioned for in four years, and it took place at the same company I did The Vagina Monologues and The Musical Revue, and I was practically dry-heaving in the wings prior to every entrance. But I got through the two hour cold reading session and when I left, I felt the itch to be onstage settle on my skin like a bad rash. I was bummed not to get in Noises Off but it just spurred me to be better for the next time around. I'm auditioning for something else in the coming weeks, and I hope it comes through!
So. Those are my goals for 2014. They may not be very enumerative or even very big, but they're mine. And I hope that this blog will provide a space for me to complain, exalt, or rant. I have a feeling that 2014 will be very, very big indeed. It's why the title of this post is from Sri K. Pattabhi Jois, the modern-day father of Ashtanga yoga - "Practice, and all is coming." I have a feeling something's coming.
2013 was a trip. 2014 will be a rocketship. I've got my rocketship underpants*. Hold on to your butts.
ally
PS. If you don't read Calvin and Hobbes, see yourself out.
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