I do know what I don't know...

This week's episode of How I Met your Mother featured a subplot about gaps in knowledge--things that "everyone knows" that you are horribly unaware of, mislead to believe or unable to do. On the show, some of the gaps included not knowing how to use a screwdriver/tools, believing the North Pole to be only a fictional place, and pronouncing the word chameleon 'cham-eh-LEE-on', as well as the inability to wink. A friend of mine and I had an email exchange about whether "skills" and "knowledge" should be categorized under the same heading, but for now, we'll go with it.

This got me thinking to what glaring holes exist in my information base.

• In third grade, I was convinced that a thesaurus was a book about dinosaurs. I mean, right?
• Also in elementary school, I didn't get why the word "hump" was funny. I've mentioned this before. (As well as the fact that as a senior I thought 'doggystyle' meant anal. Oy.)
• Until 2002, I had zero clue what a "down" in football meant. Or why having four was worse than having one. I mean--wouldn't four be better? But no, fourth down is apparently a bad thing, I now understand. I also now get why on earth you might punt v. attempt a field goal, pass v. throw in a give situation, etc. Again, I don't get the finely tuned nuances of the game, but I get the bigger points.
• That said, I am aware of the fact that the rules are different for college, but don't know them. And despite being currently enrolled at a Big 10 football school--albeit one dealing with a huge scandal--and having lived in a state that worships a coach, I don't care.
• I can't drive stick. A couple of people (specifically, three exes) have tried to teach me, but it usually ends up as a very tense situation in a parking lot. Perhaps my error is attempting to learn a skill that could do major damage to a vehicle while sitting next to a person in a position to get mad at me and have it carry over into other aspects of my life. Yes, that must be it.
  
• I can't do the butterfly stroke. Not many people can, I guess, but I spent one season "swimming" (aka, floundering around in the pool after school and being totally useless during meets) and feel like I should have the ability to at least fake it. Oh, who am I kidding? I can barely do a flipturn without freaking out.
  
• Geography. Just, like, all of geography. In eighth grade, my social studies teacher asked me to point out England on a map; I couldn't do it. These days I can handle America and Europe, mostly, but Asia and Africa? Forget it. Most of Central and South America give me pause, too, except places like Chile (on the bottom!) and Brazil (the big one on the right!). Just the other day I looked at a map before starting a book about Afghanistan and said, "huh--so that's where China is." Eegads, this is embarrassing.
  
• I have never seen any of the Star Wars movies, Back to the Future, The Princess Bride, and a few other classics.

We all have bits that somehow escaped us or that we were horribly misinformed about. The aforementioned email friend admitted that he thought Novicaine was a spray until he was eighteen, because at a cavity-ridden age five he clamped his mouth shut, and in a moment of desperation the dentist lied. Another friend had never heard of TurboTax--doing your taxes online? What? In the 21st century? Preposterous. My mom lacks the entire "how to operate computers and/or the Internet" filing cabinet in her brain.

We also all know weird things that our spongy brains sopped up somehow, like whether Bruce Wayne's grandfather went to Princeton or Yale, the location of the seven pressure points (my mom made me memorize them--and their names--when I was little), the Presidents in order (again, I didn't learn that song, dammit!), or every word to "Ice, Ice, Baby."

Seriously--every time I go out dancing, I sort of disgust myself with the fact that, if held at gunpoint, I'd have a better chance of living if I had to sing "Baby Got Back" than name the capitals of most foreign countries. Awesome.

Went a little like that...

Have you heard that ridiculous song by the even more ridiculously named group 3oh!3 called "My First Kiss"? Well, since it features Ke$ha, it's pretty terrible. (Yes, I know that I have mentioned before that I actually like her songs; I can like them without thinking they're good. I understand this is confusing. ) The chorus goes something like:

My first kiss went a little like this
And twist
And twist

These lyrics are dumb, of course, but seem to imply that first kisses go like "this"--aka, wow--and I think the "twist" part means, well. I don't know. But the entirety of the song seems to indicate that this first kiss will be spectacular and she won't be able to resist him as a result.

Really? Because I think for most of us, our first kiss went a little like that. And by that, I mean....it sucked. Mine was in 6th grade during recess surrounded by an audience of my peers. It was sloppy and gross--I felt like I was getting slobbered on by a dog who was trying to consume my face. I am sure that he felt the same way. This boy was my "boyfriend" for many months in middle school--almost a year, I think--and I don't think it got better. I mean, who knows how to kiss when you're 12? And you can't communicate about it when you're 12, either. So you endure sucky kissing. Eventually, I figured out how I like to kiss and be kissed. (Practice makes better, I suppose.) And I would like to think that, at nearly 32, I could communicate this, either by "showing" or "telling," to the person whose tongue had just been in my mouth. (I don't mean to sound cynical or unromantic, but isn't it just a little weird that one of our mating rituals involves swirling your tongue around with someone else's tongue? Don't get me wrong--I like it; it's just a little bizarre if you try to intellectualize it.)

I am sure we all have some horrendous first kiss stories, but I'm also sure we all have some wonderful first kiss stories, too. I was a bit of an, ahem, make out whore in my day, so I had a lot of first kisses that were also only-time kisses. Some were great; others were, well, eh. Or worse, icky. Some I have no recollection of, naturally; some were just bland, and then some others...

What is more important, I think, is the first kiss you have with someone with whom you are considering a potential partnership. My first college boyfriend and I drunkenly made out after a frat party during freshman orientation weekend and went on to date for almost two years. The next college boyfriend was the exact opposite: at the end of our first date, he leaned in gently to kiss me on the cheek in the doorway of my dorm room. The third installment of the college boyfriend trilogy...nope. No recollection, though I do remember some of the one-and-onlies in between. My main young adulthood boyfriend and I dated for nearly two years, and I don't know what our first kiss was like, either, though I vaguely recall it happening at my apartment after we put together some Ikea furniture. My soon-to-be ex-husband kissed me to make me stop talking; I guess he was trying to be smoother than that, but I kept blathering on and on...

Some first kisses are sweet and nice and nervous, and you have to sort of grow into it together. Others are passionate and urgent--often fueled by alcohol, though not always. Yet others start as one and build into the other. Sometimes, it's totally obvious from initial contact that you are just not going to be compatible, and other times....well. I think we all know you can tell a lot from "just" a kiss. And the subtle nuances of the mechanics of the act itself can be stressful: which way to tilt your head, where to put your arms/hands, did I eat something weird, how long to hold on., what if we bump teeth, etc. these are the little details that angsty teenage diaries are filled with.

There is a lot at stake for the person who "goes in" first--what if you've completely misread the situation and kissing is not on the table? Ouch. (In the movie Hitch, the title character says to only go in 90% and let the other person take care of the remaining 10%.) But that's not always possible--one of the best, if not the best, first kiss I ever had was a total risk on my part, and I had to be stealthy about it. He was/is much taller than I am, and I wanted it to be a surprise, so I had to wait until I didn't have to do that awkward I'm-much-shorter-than-you-but-am-trying-to-kiss-you upward neck strain; we were in a bookstore arguing about Vonnegut (me: anti, him: pro), and when he sat down in a chair I sprang it on him, certainly breaking Hitch's 90-10 rule. Later that same day, we had a scene-from-a-movie nearly perfect kissing session in the rain that he initiated. These are moments that deserve far better than an awful pop song featuring singers with punctuation marks in their names.

There is a Dentyne commercial that claims the average person has 28 first kisses. I guess all we can hope for is that more of them go like this than like that.

2010: How'd that work out for you?

So last year I blogged about goals that I wanted to achieve for 2010. They included getting into Ohio State, finding renters for our house, finding a place to stay and maybe adopting a thank-you dog, blogging for HarperCollins and writing more, going more natural, indulging myself more, finding a spiritual outlet and revisiting my once active yoga practice.

I went about 3.5 for 10, which is batting .350. In baseball that sounds pretty good, right? Hmm.

I did get into Ohio State and got a graduate assistantship to cover my tuition and pay me a stipend. I found a place to live. I blogged for HC pretty regularly until school started, and was natural-ish until I couldn't afford it anymore. I got back into yoga for a while, but again, once I moved I stopped because the yoga at my Columbus gym is pretty lame, and the independent studio is too far away and too expensive at the moment.

I did find renters for our house, but that became a moot point, as did the thank you dog. I did not write too much, though I tried blogging as often as possible (and wrote in my journal for about a month, which I enjoyed), and the spiritual thing sort of just fell by the wayside. Of course, there's that whole divorce thing that wasn't part of the plan, but, you know: it is what it is."

So what should be in store for two thousand eleven? My OSU best girlfriend has embraced the motto "tighten it up!" which can be applied to all sorts of things--health and fitness, budget issues, etc. Another friend has vowed "no more heartache," which sounds unpredictable, but for her it has a purpose. Another friend is all about turning over the proverbial new leaf, which she has already begun by completely reorganizing her house (while wearing a belly-dancing coin scarf and perhaps a tiara).

Maybe my motto should be "live it up!" I tend to stay in the lines in many areas of my life and could probably stand to break free from my self-imposed boundaries. Another friend suggested that I take an "own it--no apologies!" attitude, which I suppose is a corollary of "live it up"--it wouldn't be "living it up" if every time I "lived it up" I then apologized for or hid from it, right?

I'm not sure I'm ready for a motto yet, but I can't begin a new decade without articulating a goal or two. Of course, the accountability on a public forum like a blog is quite terrifying, but, hey. This is me, living it up.

1. I am going to try to compliment myself more, or at least accept them from others. It's not like I get fawned over or praised constantly, but I have a tendency to brush them off, or respond with self-deprecation even if I also say "thank you." People have told my I'm a good writer ("oh, come on; it's just a blog" or "well, I'm not as good as you are..."). I get told how fit/trim/ thin/"tiny" I am--the fact that this is considered a "compliment" in our culture is a wholly separate issue--and I quickly point out my flaws (small boobs, super fair skin, flat hair...). People tell me how brave and courageous it is that I quit my job and moved to a city knowing one person in order to pursue a dream; I mention how the rest of my life collapsed as a result, and that I am certainly not the only person who has ever done such a thing. See how annoying that is? I'll try to stop.

2. I liked keeping a journal for most of December. I'm going to try to keep up with it, and my friend Remy bought me a new one so I'm all set. I would also really like to work on that goal from last year about writing more often (my YA series, children's book, etc.) though time seems to elude me.

3. I have a friend who spent a lot of last year dating herself. I'm going to give that a shot, too.

4. I have got to get better at cooking for one. This fall, I ate the same thing almost every day for about two months (this brown rice-spinach-chick pea-feta concoction my mom and I adapted from Cooking Light), and then once I got sick of that, I ate turkey and spinach lasagna every day for three weeks. Cooking for one is pretty annoying though, since you're also on dishes duty. And purchasing the ingredients for one serving of something is generally impossible--so that means leftovers anyway. Maybe I'll try one new recipe a week, so I'm only eating the same thing for five days.

5. I'd like to make a few more friends. Through Meetup I met Michelle and Jodi, who are a good time to go out with, and the aforementioned OSU friend and I have all four classes together, get along fabulously and do fun things like dinner, drinks, etc. as well as hanging in our pjs watching Planet Earth. My program is comprised entirely of women, most of whom are married and/or work full time and/or have kids, so it's hard to do much beyond little events with our cohort. My best guy friend lives here, too, and he's my go-to movie buddy, but I need women in my life more. I was hitting the Meetup circuit pretty hard when I first moved here, but school and work take up a lot of time.

6. I would like to be a better "Aunt" to my "nieces and nephews." I am an only child, so these kids are neither biologically nor legally related to me, but they are the progeny of my best friends and I need to start paying more attention to them.

7. I am going to try to keep getting a 4.0, and I am entering a graduate student essay competition at the conference in Texas, though I'm sure I won't win. Getting accepted to the Roanoke conference would be nice, too.

8. There is no reason I shouldn't keep my apartment clean. It's pretty stinkin' small. I've been pretty good thus far; let's keep that going.

9. Should I take a Facebook break? Probably.

10. Dance more. Fret less. You know, things like that.

So far in 2011, I've hit the gym twice, bought new mascara, written in my journal and recorded my "niece and nephews" birth dates in my planner. I started working on my essay for the competition, made a dinner that was newish (and only lasted for 2 days, not seven), and sent a text about how good I looked today. Off to a great start! I also spent hours uploading pictures to Facebook, but, well. I can't win them all.

The Other Ten Percent (or Why I Don't Want Kids)

I try not to use this blog as a venue through which I air my worldly grievances, but sometimes I get incensed and leap up on my soapbox. Not everything makes me feel this way, but we each have our "hot button" topics that get us all riled up.

This commercial doesn't help with one of mine:



You see, the notion that this couple wasn't a "family" before the baby arrives is irritating, not to mention insulting to all sorts of people who have a family that is constructed differently than heterosexual couple plus a kid or two.

This post from a typically hilarious comic/blogger also fueled my annoyance/anger.

Really? A couple with no children in their early to mid adulthood can't happily celebrate the holidays because there isn't a small child destroying wrapping paper under a tree? Really?

This whole kids thing gets me worked up. Listen, before I get attacked by the Mommies and MommyBloggers of the world--I like kids. I do. They say hilarious things; surprise you with kindness; look adorable while they're sleeping; ask funny, interesting, questions; have a beautiful, innocent way about them (most of the time); and have a fashion sense that is rivaled only by Lady Gaga. I think babies are cute and smell lovely. Teenagers are an overlooked population who I find fascinating--I didn't leave teaching because I hated my students. So, to reiterate: I like kids.

I just don't want any.

I have not come to this conclusion lightly; it was one of the largest factors in the (civil, pleasant) collapse of my marriage. I thought I did want them and then realized that, in fact, I do not. And have never really wanted them. I felt guilty for this, but our therapist told me that as long as I had not lied in order to get a proposal, then there was nothing to feel guilty for. I had changed my mind (or really, acknowledged something buried deeply), and changing my mind on this issue had consequences, but it isn't anything to feel guilty about. While trying to sort through this issue and its inevitable impact on my life, I sought out information and support online and found a bunch of blogs that helped me suss out my feelings and articulate them; I even emailed the blogger of my favorite to say thank you, and we just met in person. I also read a couple of books that discussed the "to have or not to have" conundrum, one of which was Elizabeth Gilbert's follow up to Eat, Pray, Love called Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage, which I read in a fury on vacation with my mom last May.

This book is primarily about her and her partner Felipe's struggles with green cards and the institution of marriage itself (they had both been married and divorced prior to meeting each other in Indonesia and vowed that they would never get married again, not even to each other), and is also a quasi-anthropological investigation into marriage rituals, beliefs, etc. However, she also discusses the fact that she does not want her own children (this was one factor in the demise of her first marriage, too). She spends some time investigating facts and figures about childfree women across history/time. (A note: among the community, childfree is the preferred term because childless is language that implies a deficit model, not an active choice.)

One factoid stuck with me and I've quoted it several times since: at any time in history, across any culture, no fewer than 10% of women do not have their own children. It has gotten higher than that--hitting closer to 30% during harsh economic times like the Great Depression--but it is never lower than 10%. Now, of course, some of those women did not make the choice and were either infertile or had infertile partners, but Gilbert points out that many women went to great lengths to avoid having children (including, of course, not getting married or having abortions if they did get pregnant). She goes on to argue that society needs some of its women to not have their own, so they can more easily help the women (sisters, friends, neighbors, etc.) who do. Sort of the Wacky Aunt clause of the It Takes a Village theory.

Sign me up.

Only three members of my inner circle have children thus far; I have a "niece," Harlee, and three "nephews," Hunter, Keaton and Andrew, but I am eagerly awaiting the arrival of the rest of Aunt Hilary's brood: Zoe, Phoebe, Lauren Claire, JayDee, and any other yet-unnamed hypothetical offspring of my nearest and dearest. Yes, I am an only child so biologically I won't really be an Aunt (though I technically have a half-niece, Olivia, and a half-nephew, Christian), but my friends are my family. I would also prefer that my next partner have siblings so I can be an Aunt that way, though it's not a dealbreaker. I spent a recent evening doing math problems and dancing to the Burlesque soundtrack with Harlee, who gave me a yellow princess SillyBand to confirm our BFF status, and it was absolutely wonderful. Kids need adults they can trust beyond their parents and I will gladly serve that role.

Yet many people take issue with my choice. Here are some of the more popular criticisms I, or those like me, have gotten, and how I nicely respond to them.

• You're selfish: If I'm selfish, shouldn't I avoid having kids if I can't give myself fully to them? Lots of selfish people have kids--how's that workin' out for everyone? And the notion that having kids will magically make you unselfish may be true on the outside--you have to put them first for many, many years--but that doesn't change who you are. Right now my selfishness doesn't really hurt anyone--I don't work on Wall Street--but it could.
  
• You just haven't met the right guy: I've had tons of boyfriends, serious or otherwise--one of whom I married. And with each of them, dating back to my two-year high school boyfriend, I used to think "well, maybe I want kids, but just not with him..." I have dated guys who represent nearly every facet of personality, interests, etc. and not once have I wanted to reproduce with that person. In fact, I remembered that years ago, a guy I was in love with and I used to plan out our perfect future life together living in a beach house--with our dogs (named after authors) and cats (named after psychologists). No kids. You know that saying "it's not you; it's me"? Yeah--it is me.
  
• It's different when they're yours: It's also different when your own mother has cancer instead of your best friend's mom having it. Of course it's different when they're yours--and part of that difference is that at the end of the night doing math games and dancing in the living room, I'd also have to be the one who wakes up at 3 am if she's throwing up. Sure, the joys may mean more when they're yours, but the responsibility is far greater as well.
  
• You'll be all alone when you're old and have no one to take care of you: Do you know the percentage of the elderly whose children don't visit them when they're in a nursing home? If something happened to my mom right this minute, I would be one of the last people to arrive at the hospital because I live far away. I was self-sufficient for many years, but now I am almost 32 and my mom is back to helping me with money, etc. Is she glad to do it? Sure, she loves me. But I also bet that when people think about having kids, they don't hope to be financially involved with them at this age. Having kids to try to ensure you have a caretaker for your elder years is insane.
  
• Having kids is the only way you grow up/mature yourself: I think that there are tons of other ways to "prove" I'm an adult without having children; and what about all of those people who are reliving their childhoods through their kids--that's not super mature, now is it?
• It's one of life's greatest joys: Having kids might be a joy, but there are also many, many, many other things that bring joy, and what about all of those non joyful moments?Oh, wait, let me guess: "they're worth it!" No thanks. See above: it's different when they're yours.
  
• The Bible says to be fruitful and multiply: The Bible says a lot of shit. I don't really listen to that, either. Well, at least not on the basis that the Bible tells me so. (This is so for another time.)
• It's unnatural; we're biologically designed to have children: It is natural to have children; I am sure I could. (Well, I mean, I'm guess I'm sure. I clearly haven't tried.) But just because I could probably get pregnant and give birth doesn't mean I want to. And though I'm sure I will get craploads of flak for this next statement, I'll say it anyway: this "natural" thing has to go both ways. Medically invasive infertility treatments aren't natural either, but women who desperately want children typically don't get berated for that.
• People need to reproduce to keep the species going: Not every member of the species has to reproduce to keep it going. Ten percent of women being childfree won't threaten the human race. Overpopulation is already a problem, and statistically, only children are rare. Any couple that has more than 2 kids is doing a fine job of maintaining the population.
• You'd be such a great mom: Maybe I would be a great mom. I might also be an exquisite figure skater, equestrian or serial killer. Doesn't mean I have to try it out. (I hate the cold, horses scare me, and blood makes me squeamish. And, um, that morality thing.) I might also be a terrible mother and hate every second. Then what? There are some risks that aren't a lifelong commitment--trying figure skating, for example. Even buying a house or choosing a career are opt-outable. Kids? Not so much.
• Your kids would be so fill-in-the-blank positive trait (smart, cute, kind, etc.): My kids might be smart, cute and kind. I bet Hitler's mother thought her son would turn out beautifully, too. My kids might also be stupid, ugly and mean. Sure, you can argue the nature-versus-nurture theory, but lots of lovely, nice people have kids who end up being cracked-out delinquent thugs or worse.
• Don't you want your mom to have grandchildren? My mom would love grandchildren; she has told me as much. But having a kid to appease her (or anyone else) is a recipe for a disaster. After a recent conversation about the myriad health issues many of her friends are facing, I half-jokingly said to her "See, Mom? Having a divorced 31-year old daughter who has no money and doesn't want kids isn't so bad!" And she more than readily agreed with me. The world could probably use some more surrogate grandmothers, too--especially women like my mom.
  
• You'll change your mind: This is the one that gets me the most mad. If I were sitting here blogging about how much I wanted kids, not a soul would dare question my feelings. It makes me furious that I would to have to hunt far and wide for an ob-gyn who would tie my tubes or put in the new sterilizing coils because I'm only 31 (but I could easily find someone to fill my breasts with silicon or break and reshape my nose). And what if I did change my mind years later? Adoption is not out of the question. (I have always sort of preferred that idea, anyway.) Sure, some people might be saying that I just haven't gotten hit with "the baby bug" yet; but even if I started salivating at babies, that still doesn't mean I want to be a parent.
  
• You'll regret it: Here's what I think about regret. Maybe at 40, 50, or 60 I will regret my choice. But I would rather regret not having children than regret having them. And to those reading who are thinking "no one regrets having children!" I say bullshit. That doesn't mean these people don't love their children (though, um, a few incident reports from Child Protective Services confirm that) but there are, without question, people who wouldn't do it again if given the choice. I can name at least two personally, and the online world in all its anonymous glory is rife with posts and forums about this very topic. (For a great summary of some of this, go here.) And if you're thinking that those people are monstrous for feeling that way, what I think is more monstrous is creating a culture in which women (and men, of course) are vilified for expressing what is a very real feeling. I am not advocating that people go around screaming "I wish you had never been born!" at their kids--though that would keep therapists busy--but the notion that no one ever regrets it perpetuates a dangerous myth, especially for people who are on the fence about it.
  

Listen, I get that having kids is the default setting, so people are more likely to question the statistical outlier. I get that, I really do, but I don't go around demanding that this 90% defend their choice quite like the no-kid women often have to. At a cocktail party, if I were asked the "do you have kids?" question and got all choked-up and replied "no, I can't..." I would be given all sorts of (perhaps well-deserved) sympathy, but gleefully replying "no, and I don't want them, either!" gets ugly looks and tons of judgment and the inevitable "oh, you will..." Uncool. It would be nice if more people were demonstrably like this woman. I just finished watching the entire series of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and it's arguably the best tv show I've ever watched. But if you aren't interested, I'm going to let it drop.

I love my friends who have or plan to have kids, and I love their children, too. Aunt Hilary will babysit so you can have date night. She'll come over and rescue you from a colicky baby so you can shower for the first time in three days. I'll walk your dog while you're at the hospital with a broken leg from youth soccer. I'll take them to see the newest Pixar movie, read to them, come to their school plays, send cards for their birthdays, and dance at their weddings. I'll talk to them about sex and drugs and drinking if they can't (or don't want to) ask you. I'll come with you to an IEP meeting if your kid has a learning difference to advocate for their educational rights. Hell, I can be the person they call drunk from a party if they're too afraid to call you.

And you'll never have to return the favor. Now, doesn't that make my choice sound better?

What I Learned in 2010

A friend-of-a-friend did this, and the idea has been passed on and around in emails with my girls. I think that having learned at least 21 things in a year is a good goal to aim for--if you haven't learned something-anything-what is the point? I admit that my list here has been somewhat edited from my original. Sorry--but the general populace just doesn't get the same info as my Circle of Trust. (I think that's fair.) 2010 was a wacky year for many people I know (and for me, oy), but wacky isn't bad. You can't change the past--you can only alter your perception, learn from it, and grow.

May 2011 bring all of us personal fulfillment, unbridled joy, few struggles, and many lessons.

1. Growth comes from conflict. You have to put it out there and struggle to shed your skin and grow one anew.

2. Keeping stuff bottled up will eventually kill you. It's amazing how much better I feel when I just say it--whatever it is. It's terrifying most of the time--you're setting yourself up for rejection or worse--but after the initial shock wears off, a weight is lifted.

3. An apple a day keeps the doctor away. So does drinking lots of water, getting a lot of sleep, exercising, etc.

4. My mottos for the year: "It is what it is" and "Try different; different can be good."

5. I am borrowing this one: like what you like, and like it with abandon. I like Ke$sha/crappy pop music, crime drama tv shows, Glee, clipping coupons, having short, unpainted nails, drinking my tea with a straw, and going to bed at a decent hour. I spent so much of my life trying to pretend that I liked the "right" things, etc. Screw it. If you hate "Tik Tok" you don't have to listen to it with me, but I am going to dance in my bathroom when it comes on the radio, dammit.

6. Vodka + lemonade + fake eyelashes + Revertigo = broken glass and a bandaged ass. And one of the funniest videos ever. My high school besties-KH, JD, BT-bring out my wild, uninhibited, carefree side (yes, even while sober). This is a side I would show more if I weren't such a weenie. I thank my lucky stars for them--they repair, reinvigorate, recenter, and refresh me on a daily basis. A toast to the future residents of the beach side Wisteria Lane. I love you, girls.

7. It is pretty remarkable how feeling satisfied in your personal and professional life leads directly to a more zen feeling about material things. I am making below poverty level money and am happier than I have been in years. Sure, I still love shopping and new clothes (I'm broke, not dead), but I'm no longer trying to substitute one happiness for another.

8. How to jump start a car.

9. Concerts tend to be disappointing.

10. I really, really like going to the movies. Alone, with friends, with strangers, with a date. Artsy-fartsy indie films, Ben Affleck blockbusters, musicals, animated, documentaries, you name it. Theaters with the movable arm rests are the best, and the kid's meal deal is the perfect amount of popcorn and soda. I even like watching tv in a movie theater (I watched most of The Walking Dead here.)

11. In a pinch, a piece of spaghetti can serve as a toothpick to dip homemade candy in chocolate.

12. I can eat the same thing for dinner for about a month before I can't stand to see it ever again.

13. You really get to know who your friends are when you go through a crisis, move away, and make choices that could be considered less than stellar. The best friends simultaneously call you on your bullshit, support you through it, and love you anyway. Or hell, because of it.

14. I look better with shorter hair. Sorry, ponytail--not gonna happen. And fine, I like how it looks when I use a diffuser like my stylist suggested. (Thanks, Mom, for trading hair dryers with me.)

15. As for Kitty: My mom and I have gotten to that wonderful point in a mother-daughter relationship where we are friends; she knows more about me than I would like to admit, and I can talk to her about things that I never thought would come out of my mouth. That said, it's also nice to have her cook me dinner and send me $20 in the mail "just because." I am still her kid, and she likes to treat me that way, too.

16. This year I was introduced to Dan Savage and chugged the Kool-Aid. The two most important things I learned from him are that a) sex is important, at least to me, and that's totally acceptable, and b) that sex isn't about intercourse. You can fuck and make love to someone and technically be abstinent. Health educators, teachers, parents, even youth ministers need to emphasize this. It would probably reduce the teen pregnancy rate. (Let me be clear: I am absolutely NOT advocating for abstinence only education; that is laughably ineffective and a dangerous byproduct of the influence the "moral" majority has on public policy. I am saying that all types of sexual activities--aka, "everything except"--can carry the emotional weight and overall fun/hotness that the general public--especially those who are beating the wait-til-you're-married horse--seems to think is limited to penetrative intercourse.)

17. It's easy to give up on love. Don't.

18. Republicans/social conservatives can raise my blood pressure in nanoseconds. I really do try to respect everyone's opinion and their right to express it, but there are just some beliefs that will make me think less of you. Sorry.

19. The heart is resilient in a way that most people can't believe. It can also handle far more than we think--just when I think "I can't take even one more crack" another appears and I say it all over again. It might shatter like an icy pond eventually, but it's stronger than I thought.

20. A great pair of jeans, tall black boots, good hair, some mascara and lip color = instasexy on almost everyone, me included. I actually think I look hot sometimes. Not always, but sometimes. This is new to me.

21. Life is a big, gray polka-dotted rug. There will hopefully be lots and lots of happy pink dots, few blue sad dots and just the right mix of green wacky dots. But the rest of it, the gray, is what we live day in, day out. Commuting, showering, grocery shopping, scooping cat poop, getting the mail, reading news online. Most of us aren't going to solve the world's crises, but most of us aren't going to cause great destruction, either. You should try to be a good friend, partner, child, neighbor, pet owner, employee or boss most of the time. If you have kids, you should try to be a good parent most of the time, too. We won't always be: we'll hurt feelings, forget, fight, ignore, insult. Hopefully not too many of these turn into permanent blue dots. Some days we'll excel: we'll inspire, console, laugh with, (laugh at), truly show our love and appreciation. Hopefully lots of these will become pink dots (or, with my friends, the green wacky dots). But life is mostly made up of the gray background--and that's ok. The point is to try to find the people you want on the rug with you and then buckle up for a carpet ride.

Do What You Like; Like What You Do

This phrase from the "Life is Good" company is on a blue mug that currently serves to hold my extra Splenda. I think I bought it last year at REI with a gift card or something. It may be a trite slogan imprinted on a piece of dyed ceramic, but I believe it.

There are countless pithy sayings about work blazoned across stickers and mugs, but this one I agree with the most. My mom raised me to care less about salary and status, and more about enjoying what you do every day. Because, unless I were to win the lottery, marry a millionaire, or inherit a killing, I am going to have to work nearly every day of my life. Nearly one third of my life will be spent at work; another third I'll be asleep, and the remaining third is spent in "other." For this reason, I believe strongly in enjoying your work (and having a comfortable mattress).

Not everyone agrees with this. I know lots of people see work as the vehicle for earning the money to be able to enjoy that other third. And sure, that helps. But I don't think it helps enough to do something you hate in exchange for more money, or to do something that kills you slowly, thus rendering that "other'" third useless anyway. Of course, some consider it a privilege to be able to quit a job to follow a dream, or to turn down a job you're over qualified for, and I would agree to an extent. Tough times call for tough measures, or so they say, and if I had to feed myself and my family, well, you "do what you gotta do." Luckily, my mom saved her pennies for me to go to college; the government was kind enough to loan me a bunch to go to graduate school, and I am qualified for a job I can "always fall back on" provided I'm willing to work where needed.

Prior to taking a leave of absence, I hadn't loved my job in quite a while, and I missed that feeling. I couldn't put my finger on it until I removed myself from the situation, but teaching was not for me any longer. It didn't allow me to utilize my strengths, made a mockery of my weaknesses, and I felt like I was a cog in a philosophical machine that made me fight an internal battle every day. Sure, I got up and did my job as best I could (most days), and some days I even enjoyed it, but a house divided cannot stand. I wasn't happy. I wasn't pleasant to be around. I noticed; my (soon-to-be ex) spouse noticed; I think even the kids and my colleagues noticed.

Even though lots of people told me I was crazy for giving up a great salary and health insurance during these "tough economic times," and leaving a stable you-can-have-this-til-you-retire job in one of the best school districts in the state of Pennsylvania, I just had to. And I haven't looked back (ok, so maybe I miss that salary). I have not missed teaching for one second. I miss my kids and their energy and wackiness. I miss my colleagues and their friendship and the general feeling of camaraderie. I miss feeling like part of a community and going to things like pep rallies, school plays, etc. I miss running my Model UN club and coaching volleyball (though the team did far better without me this year). But I do not miss teaching itself. I'm technically on a leave of absence, which means my job is mine if I want it back, but let's be honest. I'm not going back.

My job at Ohio State, however, is fantastic. It pays a pittance, but it's a good fit. I am far better as a teacher-resource/teacher-on-the-side/teacher-supporter. I have a great group of student interns who are doing really good work. I help with lesson planning, classroom management issues and ideas, general teaching worries. I observe them, give them feedback, talk with them through their struggles. I am part counselor, part leader, part quasi guru. (I do not claim to have the how-to-teach market cornered, but I have seven more years of experience than they do, and the difference is significant.) I like what I do, and I do it well (or at least, their feedback suggests this). It leaves me with life left at the end of the day and doesn't eat away at my soul.

Of course, my other "job" is to be a student, and that is the best part. Even though she's not very formally educated, my mother has always said she could go to school for the rest of her life; I feel the same. Reading articles and books, thinking about them, discussing them with peers and classmates, and yes, even writing papers about them is interesting to me. It's fun. It gets my brain going, which I need. And, as stupid as it sounds to say, I'm sort of good at it. Not that grades are the be-all, end-all, and there is totally grade inflation at the graduate level (arguably at all levels, but that's for another time), but I do well, and have always done well, in school. I care about it and try to do my best because it matters to me. I was recently accepted to present at my first conference, and I didn't come down off my academic, brain-based high for an entire day. This was someone who has never met me, who doesn't know how often I raise my hand to comment or ask a question, who never had me visit office hours tell me "hey, we think this is interesting and we want to hear more." It's a huge compliment--which, of course, just makes me worry that I'm a fraud and that I actually have no idea what I'm doing. But, for the moments in between the fear, it's a total ego boost.

Of course, I'm doing all of this--writing papers, applying for conferences, living on a measly budget in my early 30s and probably accruing more debt--in order to hopefully be a professor. I am in a little niche market in academia (there are only 5 Ph.D programs for my subject in the country, though lots of Master's programs) but it is under the bigger umbrella of education. That said, there is a complete and utter likelihood that I won't be employed in that fashion. What then? What if you work your ass off and aim for this and it doesn't work out right away? Well, I don't know. I could adjunct, though it's hard to live alone that way. I could consult for school districts, I guess. I hope to write children's and YA books some day (I have the basic idea for a YA series loosely based on my high school experience with my best friends). I could maybe somehow work for a publisher, or do reviews? I don't exactly know.

For now, I am going to sort of tuck that away and focus on next quarter, and the next. I'm waiting to hear back from another conference. I have to write a paper over this break so I can apply for an award at the first conference. I have to figure out how to negotiate taking more-than-the-recommended credits, working, and tutoring during my least favorite, least productive season of the year. I would love to be able to say that winter will leave me unscathed this year because my professional life is vastly improved, but that's just not how brain chemicals work. But, as always, I'll get through it, and then it will be Spring.

Even though I had to close a door (a big door) for this window to open, it's one of the best things I have ever done for myself. Some people can just show up for a job they hate every day and then leave it at the door. I actually admire these people--how much easier would my life be if I could do that? Maybe it's a character flaw that I can't do that, but I don't think so. Don't get me wrong--I'm not out there solving world hunger, or educating people about rape and domestic abuse like one of my best friends does. I'm not helping the Democrats negotiate tax breaks for the middle class, preventing suicides in gay teenagers, or nursing people back to health. What I'm doing in the grand scheme of things isn't all that important to the world (well, ok; having kids and teenagers love to read is important), but it allows me to be a kinder person (even to strangers), a better friend, someday a better partner, a more pleasant daughter, a more loving cat-mom. I will never make a ton of money, will always have to work hard, and I can't retire til I'm pretty stinkin' old. But to me, it has been worth it.

As Confucius said, find a job you love, and you'll never work a day in your life.

25 Days of Thank You

I've been inspired by the new Facebook trend to post one thing a day from now until Thanksgiving, but I don't want to do it via status updates. Instead, I'd rather keep the list going here, and publish it when I'm finished. I don't like to over-update on the old FB, and what if I had something else that just had to be alerted to the general populace? (I realize I'm not that important, but still.) Also, I'd like to focus on the smaller, often overlooked aspects of life--of course I'm thankful for my friends and family, for my health, for the freedoms and rights afforded me by living in America. Of course. I have some of the best friends on the Earth who have seen me through it all; my mom (as I blogged earlier) is easily one of my favorite people, and America, for all its issues and flaws, is still a great place to live. No, I want to think about the cliched "little things."

In no particular order...

1. I am thankful for crisp, but not uncomfortably cold, fall days when the sky is blue, the leaves have turned, the sun is out and the squirrels are scampering.

2. That 7 years ago I found an ad on petfinder.com for a deaf orange cat on the verge of being put down because no one wanted him (what with the deafness and all) and that I took a chance on this pathetic sounding little guy. Morris is the cutest, snuggliest, friendliest cat and enriches my life every day, despite his myriad health issues (no eardrums, pee crystals...). Sometimes I just look at him and burst with how much I love him. I love how he snores; I love how he gets this curious, quizzical look on his face when he's watching the squirrels. I could go on, but I'd probably disgust you.

3. That there are people willing to and keenly capable at doing jobs that benefit me (and most other people) without being especially glamorous. I'm thinking car mechanics, nail technicians, seamstresses, plumbers, heating and cooling maintenance, pet groomers, bus drivers, mail delivery persons, gas station attendants (in New Jersey), supermarket bakery and meat counter workers, the overnight custodians who make the places I visit look nice in the secret of night, etc. Thank you for all you do that makes my life, and the lives of others, a lot easier and more pleasant.

4. I'm grateful for being pleasantly surprised. One of my student teachers totally "got us" all in class today as part of a lesson and it was so great I couldn't stop smiling afterward. I don't love all surprises, actually--especially if it's one of the "I have something for you but I can't give it to you yet"--variety, but when you least expect something to happen, and then it does, and it's a good thing...awesome. And I'm glad the world has moments like these and that I am occasionally privy to them.

5. For first impressions, second chances, three strikes. These are all important things to live by, at least sometimes. (I also go for third chances, 2 strikes, etc. )

6. For summer weather, fall food, winter wonderlands and spring cleaning. I have lived in a place that is pretty monoseasonal, and it's just not as enjoyable as having all four cycle through the year in a relatively predictable fashion. Sure, last year it was 90 in early April and 50 in May and we got a near apocalyptic amount of snow, but the changes are worth it. Football season is better with hoodies and chili, baseball is better with sunshine and burgers. (It is currently warmish for early November; someone remind me to reread this in mid-February when it's grey and bleak and I haven't left the house in 4 days and am eating rice pudding every night as Seasonal Affective Disorder self-medication.)

7. For well written books, well-directed films, beautiful art, well-composed music....basically, I am so grateful that our world contains a wide variety of things that are artistic and beautiful. The world and my life would be so depressing without Monet, Renoir, Mozart, Darren Aronofsky, Phillip Glass, Joss Whedon, Picasso, Vivaldi, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Toni Morrison, Julia Alvarez,..oh my. I could go on. Of course, taste is subjective and the same art does not appeal to everyone, but I for one am glad for "Waterlilies."

8. That being said, I'm also thankful that movies like "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days" and shows like Sex and the City and songs like "Bad Romance" and books like The Mortal Instruments exist. Maybe not high quality but fun and brainless and easy to enjoy.

9. I'm thankful that "all" I have to do is pay someone some money and I get a roof over my head and hot water in my shower. Sure, at the moment my current economic state renders the space small and the cost about 50% of my monthly take home pay, but I am far, far luckier than those who do not have access to shelter and who cannot take a hot shower every day, if ever.

10. I also have the luxury of paying money and walking out of a store with nutritious food to bring home and prepare. I don't have to scrounge, hunt or gather (unless I so choose), nor do I worry where my next meal will come from. I wake up every day knowing I will eat. Most of the time, I eat a lot. How lucky!

11. I am thankful that, despite going to a high school that was pretty consistently ranked near the bottom of the pile, I had some really good teachers whose lessons and instruction were so good that I still remember the content 12 plus years later. I recently tutored a girl in Honors Geometry and remember almost everything about triangles and exterior angles and how to solve to find them, etc. I learned this stuff when I was 14! And, to be fair, haven't really used it much, except to take the SAT and GRE. Sure, I'm a relatively intelligent person, but my teachers were also pretty darn good, apparently.

12. I am grateful for the train that runs near my apartment. It sounds so hauntingly beautiful, especially at night.

13. I am thankful for competent, caring medical professionals who treated my friend Joel who is now hopefully in full remission and won't have to go through surgery that would remove some pretty important body parts. My mom also had a simple procedure recently (and had pretty intense surgery a few years ago) and she was well cared for. Doctors, nurses, NPs, PAs, techs, EMTs who care about their patients, listen well and are thoughtful and precise with their treatments and diagnoses are irreplaceable. (My mom is one of these people, as is my friend Jennie.)

14. I am thankful for group fitness classes and the people who teach them! No matter where I have lived or on what salary, one of the first things I do is join a gym. I can't help it--I'm crazy that way. And all of my self-motivation gets exhausted by work or school, so I need the help to work out. Out of desperation, I'll use the elliptical or treadmill or bike or something, but I live for BodyAttack, BodyPump, BodyStep, Cardio-Strength and (back in PA) Kettlebell. My BodyAttack class even feels like a mini-family since we all stand in the same place every time and have gotten to sort of know each other. I need the specific time slot and the presence of others to keep me accountable.

15. I am thankful for the kindness of strangers. Today, a girl and I were waiting for the women's restroom to open up after cleaning. We were both sort of doing the pee dance, and so I offered to watch the door of the men's room while she used it if she would return the favor. Two days ago I had the most cheerful bus driver I've ever met, and you could tell that she had struck up a friendship with a woman in a wheelchair who is a "regular" on her route. I do believe that people are inherently good and these little moments remind me of that.

16. It sounds dumb, but I am grateful for technology and the Internet. I know I was a anti Facebook for a while (and am now addicted), but it has allowed me to not only stay in contact with my friends and reacquaint with old ones, but I've even gotten to know my half siblings whom I have never met in person. Gchat is a lifeline, as is my cell phone, and I love reading personal blogs. I am in a place in my life where I need human contact and without Mark Zuckerberg or the team at Google, my life would be much emptier. Or at least seem that way. And for all the criticism it gets, I now have a wee bit of income thanks to Craigslist. I am also grateful for my cellphone, DVR, and even the fancy alarm clock I have that sets itself when the power goes out. Because of the internet, I can listen to my weekly podcasts and be seated comfortably in a cozy chair doing research for a class.

17. If I am thankful for the people who do unappreciated behind the scenes work (#3), I am also thankful for those people in the limelight who are well paid to bring some brilliance and insight in our world. People like Jon Stewart, Rachel Maddow, Dan Savage, Anderson Cooper and the rest of the liberal news media tend to make my day. Don't get me wrong, I fully appreciate that their conservative counterparts have a venue too (ok, maybe I'm not thankful for Fox itself...) but those are not the people bringing the sunshine into my life.

18. I'm not a foodie by any means, but man oh man, am I grateful for the beet dip at The Burgundy Room here in Columbus. Honestly the best thing I've ever eaten. They also had this amazing roasted asparagus dish that was to die for, but they just got a new chef and it is no longer on their menu. Sigh. At least I had it once. Other foodstuffs that make me melt include the harvest roll at Haiku, the (now unavailable) pineapple coconut cake at Margaritaville (I know, a chain, how lame of me), and the cream of caramelized onion soup at my former place of employment, The King George Inn in Allentown. The chef was a jerk, but man. That soup.

19. I am also not too big of a drinker, but I also get in a tizzy for the peach sangria at Barcelona, the flirtinis at Landmark, the margaritas at El Vez in Philly and Doc Loosen riesling (which I get at The Burgundy Room with my beet dip). Some days you just "need a drink" and one sip of any of these...well, I am grateful for them!

20. This Thanksgiving, I am a little bit unmoored, both physically and emotionally, and I am thankful that really, I always have a place to go. I can't be home with my mom and my home in PA is no longer an option, but I have friends who invited me to celebrate with them, new classmates who did the same, and OSU opens its doors to students who have no other place to go as well. People do want you to feel "at home" even when you don't really have one.

21. Though I've only really ever had cats, I love dogs, too, and I love sleeping with my friend Matt's dog, Milo. He curls up under the blankets at my feet and is my personal four-legged toaster oven. He's also pretty snuggly on the couch and a nice excuse to go outside for a walk.

22. You know what? I'll be so bold as to say I am thankful for hot men. I have been chastised for having odd taste, but seriously, there are some good looking people in the world. Some of my personal favorites include Jason Segel, Jon Stewart, Andy Samberg, Jake Gyllenhaal, Matthew Gray Gubler, Shemar Moore, Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, Jon Hamm, Hugh Jackman, Andy Roddick, John Krasinski...again, taste is totally subjective, but these guys? Yowza. And, hey, I won't be so sexually rigid that I can't name some hot women, too: Reese Witherspoon, Julianne Moore, Tina Fey, the girl who does the Aveeno ads, Zooey Deschanel, Natalie Portman, Mila Kunis, Jennifer Aniston, Bar Rafaeli...gorgeous. Of course, I have hot friends (male and female) too, but it's far safer to name the famous people.

23. I am thankful for little rituals and traditions, be they big or small, public or private. The beloved hippie dj on my favorite Philadelphia radio station always plays "Alice's Restaurant" on Thanksgiving--all 18+ minutes of it--three times. ABC family has the "25 Days of Christmas" on tv for our holiday movie viewing pleasure. My friend Ali always hosts a holiday party that is one of my favorite things all year. I am sure everyone has family rituals, especially around this time of year, that bring them a little bit of extra happiness. My mom and I usually work at a soup kitchen; some people play football, others have board games, parade viewings, a Turkey Trot, even the 5 am Black Friday trip to the mall with a coffee run first.

24. While I do enjoy the comfortably crisp fall days (#1), I also very much enjoy the non-politically correct named Indian Summer. It was almost 70 out the other day--in late November! I won't spout off on whether this is a result of global warming or what have you, but I'll certainly take it.

25. Lastly, I am glad for grief, happiness, disappointment, jealousy, empathy, joy, love, heartache....all of these emotions and feelings that make us so utterly, inescapably human. Without them, we would all be flatlining our way through life. Sure, some of those are terrible feelings, but they don't last forever. When you've come out on the other side of those, the good ones--joy, happiness, gratitude, love--seem that much richer. I am so, so glad I have all of them.