10,000 Minutes Project

Friends, for those that are curious and want to see how my resolution turns out, I've created a new blog. I'll continue to update my "opinion" pieces here, but will spend time chronicling what I do to give back over at Ten Thousand Minutes.

So, please, go check it out!

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Barrel Gone Dry

About a month ago I wrote a post about how I was dealing with the house rehab and unpacking and decorating.  I talked about how I was doing all my cognitive-behavioral therapy stuff and trying to "change my language" about the situation and that it was working...

Well, since then I've had major coping skill FAIL.  I mean F-A-I-L.  Like, crying at work, screaming at the boy, giving up and hiding under the covers at 6:30pm on a Sunday, feeling (honestly and truly to my very cells) that it would NEVER get better, that it had gone on for too long and that all of the work I had done to improve living life with a mental illness was, "bam!" out the window.  It was baaaaaaad.  Like, right after my Grandma died bad.  I couldn't even go into work even though it meant not getting paid... I didn't go to U2 even though Em scored us last-minute tickets... and I honestly wasn't sure why it was all worth it.  The way that OCD makes me feel is so counter to who I really am that sometimes I just feel like I will never be able to live life how I want to... how I deserve to. And that makes me really, really sad sometimes.

So, what happened?  What made me flip my shit despite having techniques in my arsenal to avoid such a situation?  Well, for one, I have a mental illness that I can't "cure," one that I can only work with in hopes of having a functional and fulfilling life.  Treatment isn't foolproof, which can be really daunting because even if you're doing everything "right," you still get fucked over sometimes.  Out of nowhere.  In public. With everyone watching.

For two, it's been almost a year, 365 days of constant anxiety, at levels similar to how I felt on my worst days after Grandma passed... my "dark days."  That's a lot of anxiety to cope with on a regular, consistent basis.  I think that my barrel just went dry, my well was empty, my breaking point met.  I didn't have any more energy to deal with the intrusive boxes, the lack of organization, the lack of control.  I know, I know, it takes people YEARS to unpack.  Well, I am not people and I do not take years to unpack.  (There are those absolutes again...)

Finally (or for third, whichever you think has better symmetry), I had the flu.  It's true! Being sick made me a complete disaster.  It's like when I was a kid, whenever I was totally irrational or cranky or whatever, my mom would say, "Ooo I hope you're not getting sick."  And then, the next day, "poof," I was sick.  I personally think my mother is some sort of evil sorceress who would create "sickness" so that I would be quiet and asleep and weak instead of healthy and just plain annoying.  I have no proof, though, so I guess we'll just have to say she was right.

I'm clearly feeling better now, you know, with the "sharing" and the "jokes" and all.  I'm not sure how or why, but I woke up a couple of days ago feeling like a human being again, albeit one that now recognizes that there are some things I will (here I go with strong language again) not be able to compromise on, no matter how much I wish it.  Having a stable, organized, uncluttered home is one of them.  It is very clear that in order for me to be a person out there in the world, one who has enough energy to stop the need to control the uncontrollable or the intrusive thoughts about what did or didn't happen or pick your favorite OCD issue-of-the-day, I need my "safe space."  I need a place to come where, when I look around, I don't see a million things that I need to do and no clear way to start, I don't see something out of place that sparks an intrusive, repetitive thought that won't go away, I don't feel uptight and crazy and untethered to this world.  Instead, I just feel like I'm home.

Maybe one day I'll be able to be a "person" and be lax about my personal space.  Last week was proof that this is not that time.  And, in all honestly, admitting this and allowing myself to be a complete basket case helped me get over it.  As weak as it might sound to some, I honestly think that being able to say to ourselves, "this is my limit," can be a powerful, even empowering, thing.

So, what now?  Well, we are nearly unpacked, though we are waiting on some additional storage items to be shipping.  We have some painting to finish, including all the trim.  And we have some furniture to buy.  All, in all, though, it feel like the storm has broken and the pieces are falling into place.  It's starting to feel okay, though there's a nagging pressure in my chest if I think about how much we have left to do for too long...

Here's to hoping that my renewed strength can hold out until the puzzle is complete!

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Judging a Book By Its Cover

I honestly don't think that I need to say anything about this video. I really think that the individuals in it speak for their ignorance just fine without me chirping in. Rebutting their claims that "fascism, socialism, and communism are all the same thing" is pointless...besides, I've already tried it before. Just watch and be appalled--as the boy said, "I really hope that this represents the lowest common denominator in our country or we're in trouble."

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The Chronicles of Higher Education

Well, loyal readers, I have an announcement to make: I am rebooting my long-term life goals starting NOW! Actually, I've been slowing building inertia by doing some tiny bits of research and setting up meetings with old professors, but it's way more fun to make an exciting declarative statement, no? Anyhoo... What, you might be asking yourself, is this long-term life goal? Well, it's to become Elizabeth, Ph.D., Dr. Lizzy, Professor Betsy. That's right, to go BACK TO SCHOOL!!! Woooooooo!

Well, to be honest it's more than to "just" go back to school... ...it's to finally take the next step in doing the work I've always dreamed of doing, to help the public better understand our history and our society in order to better make informed decisions in our own lives. I currently work in museum exhibitions, which obviously meets this long-term goal, but although I've been able to research and write and comment on curatorial matters (even curated one traveling exhibition), I'm not a "curator." I'm not the lead intellectual voice. I'm not overseeing the development of a collection and working to make sure that it has the best artifacts, the most interesting materials, the best research to tell the most interesting (at least, to me) stories. In order to do this or to develop documentaries or write academic books or teach at a university, I need to go back and get my Ph.D. and further my training. I need to become a professional historian so that I can spend my time analyzing popular culture in a respected public forum, instead of doing it for shits and giggles, like I do now.

Now, this isn't a spur-of-the-moment sort of a thing... If you know me personally, you probably already know that I can't remember a time in my life where I didn't think I was going to go get my Ph.D. I've been saying it for years and years... but, I'm honestly really glad that I took the time to get my masters and work for a while, to be a professional figuring out what I'm good at, what skills I need to work on, what my passions truly are. When I applied to grad programs during college I had no idea what I was doing, I had no clue that I clearly had a common thread in all of my papers, and how to find the best place for those interests. I also certainly didn't know how to articulate what I wanted because I'd never had to do what I didn't like, out here, in the "real world." I'm an adult now and I make adult decisions, for myself and for others. I think the path I've taken is going to make me a stronger candidate and a better historian when all is said and done, so I'm happy with the path that I've made, even the choices made out of pure worry...

However, after thinking long and hard about the fact that I'm not really ready to face rejection and that, in the past, I've tended to go at things out of anxiety instead of out of resolve, I'm taking it really slow. I'm meeting with old professors, I'm researching schools, I'm retaking my GRE, I'm updating an old paper with some new research for my writing sample, I'm going to catch up on readings in the field and try to find out who I really want to work with and hopefully start a dialogue with them... and I'm going to give myself until next year's deadline to do this instead of this January. Sure, that means I wouldn't be starting this a program until Fall 2011, but it also means that I will be able to absorb and live everything I'm doing in order to be the strongest candidate I possibly can be. And that I'm making the best informed decision that anyone can make in a situation with so many unknowns. Sure, I can get applications in on time, but will they be reflective of what I want in life or will they be artifacts of my fretful need to get it done? I mean, I still have to decide if staying in DC is what I want, if working where I am is practical (much less the right thing for me), if I want to do a history program or a cinema studies program or an American studies program, or if I'm willing to go to the best programs for me even if they are in California or Texas or Michigan... I'm not going to lose all of the really hard work I've done to get healthy and to be an active participant in my own life just because I'm super excited for something to start. That's the old Elizabeth and, while I've lived a happy life in general, I haven't always lived a full one.

For once, when making a life-changing decision, I honestly think it's okay to be a bit cautious. Although, it seems I've always known what I wanted to be when I grew up, it just took me a little while to figure out who I wanted to be while doing it. I know myself well enough now to know the difference between feeling the need to get moving because of excitement versus taking action because of my mental illness. If I'm going to make it through 6 or 7 years of really difficult emotional, political, and intellectual work, only to spend the next 5 years shuffled from 1-year academic appointment to 1-year academic appointment, I'd better have damn well made sure it was worth it! 'Cause I think I've finally grown up enough to know that I'm worth getting what I want.

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Changing Your Language

This is a photo of my lovely home in LeDroit Park. It's quite cute, no? Little round window, quaint Victorian style, yellow. I mean, who doesn't want a yellow house?

But... for a while now, it's been a thorn in my side. A still not finished, unpacked, or Elizabeth-fied thorn. I know, I know, I should just shut up: I'm 28 and I own a house in DC, which was a great deal in my perfect neighborhood. I'm privileged enough enough to even be able to have a home, owned or rented or whatever. I get it--but try telling my OCD that. It's been screaming at me because things aren't organized, there are boxes on top of the dining room table instead of place settings, and I have no idea where my cameras have gone... My OCD brain has been saying over and over again that this is my worst nightmare, absolute chaos, supposed to be different!!! Gah!!! it says, loudly, all the time.

So...I've been anxious, naggy (the boy has done most of the repairs cause he's awesomely spatial like that), and on constant cognitive thinking overdrive. I mean, I've handled this better than I expected. I haven't set anything on fire or thrown unpacked dishes out in the trash just to get rid of them, for example. So when I went to therapy this weekend, anxious but feeling pretty okay with myself, and my therapist subsequently challenged me, I was not a happy camper:

Me: I mean, of course the house is still bothering me! It should have been done by now!

Her: Should? Hmm, well there aren't really any absolute time-tables. Things take as long as they take. It hasn't even been a year--some people take five!

Me (crossing my arms in defiance): Well, that's great for them... I personally can't live in chaos.

Her: Chaos? That's a strong word. I mean, it hasn't actually been chaos... You're functioning and going to work and living.

Me (getting more defensive): Well, it feels like chaos. It's been my worst nightmare.

Her: Oh my. I think I'm really going to have to challenge you on that. I'm sure you can imagine worse things, hell, even worse things related to the house.

Me (brain loudly whirring-ooo, I got her now!): Well, that might be true... But its certainly been my worst OCD nightmare!

Her (staring at me because we both know she's right): You are really using absolute language--no wonder it feels so large and unmanageable... The truth is THE HOUSE ISN'T HOW YOU WANT IT TO BE. No right or wrong or good or bad just not how you want it.

Me (feeling small and selfish and silly...): um, er, well that's true, I suppose... I mean, it's not NOT true.

Her (laughing): You know, you really have to use different words if you want your brain to think and respond differently... Try not to use the absolutes and see what happens, okay?

And you know what?! It's helping, the tiniest smidge... I mean, changing your entrenched brain patterns takes time, but it has worked to help ease a bit of the panic when the hair in the bathroom makes me worry about the baseboards and that makes me think about the window trim and then the light fixtures and then the cabinets and then... well, you get the idea. Cause if I just don't like it as opposed to it being a WARZONE, that's a lovely thought, no? I mean, I know that changing your thinking helps, I've been doing cognitive-behavioural therapy for eight years now and no longer re-collate my papers anymore or throw out books with wobbly underline... I guess the house is just my last anxiety holdout.

I know I'll always have good and bad days (I have OCD for Christ's sake, acceptance of this is kinda essential to long-term healing), but... maybe with a little rewriting, this'll all be okay...

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DC isn't the coolest city...

...but it's also not as lame as every single internet personality from NY (or at least Gawker) makes it out to be. Every now and then this subject gets in my craw and I google it and get angrier and angrier and angrier. I'm usually drunk when I do and also looking up ex-roommates to see how lame they are now (you know, to mask my own insecurities... sigh...but that's all beside the point!) Anyhow, take a look at the below posts, which aren't even about just how much cooler NY is than DC (which, duh, can you even compare the geographic area, the population density, the voting rights disparities?!), but also just about how uncool DC is. BTW, I think NY is awesome. I might even move there at some point in my life--who knows?! I try not to define myself by where I live, but by what I do while living there. Apparently, however, for a certain populace of NY this is not the case, and dissing the District is the "cool" thing to do now...

I'm not going to get into why I think DC is awesome (which I do), but I will say that if you notice, nearly EVERY single criticism of DC is about the transient, over-educated, white population of the city, that I also loathe... Comments like this really get my goat:

I used to live there... 90% of the DC population sucks ass. The only micro-sub-groups that are any fun are (1) self-loathing journalists and (2) World Bankers. Both cliques can drink the average Washingtonian under the table, but with the second category, you get bottle service.

I'm confused--you only like the over-educated yuppies, but hate the other 90%, which are who? How is it that so many of these comments are about how awful Georgetown is and how there's no music scene (read: indie, read: white), when %50 of DC's population is persons of color who are disproportionately poor? Did these people ever leave Metro Center? Did they ever actually talk to someone who grew up in the District, not the metro area?! These types of posts and comments are about "Washington," not the "District," you know what I mean? A lot of DC residents HATE this shit, too. Or else don't have access and time to waste on the stupid internets in the first place...they are too busy with tasty half-smokes, block parties, political activism (both good and of the Barry variety), jazz, and Go Go.

Anyhow, I'm tipsy and this is annoying me right now, for whatever reason. However, I'm going to go upstairs and go to sleep instead of continuing this useless rant...

Here are the posts, if you are interested...

http://gawker.com/284166/does-boston-actually-suck-more-than-dc
http://gawker.com/5153483/cheer-up-dc-will-never-be-cool
http://gawker.com/news/d%27c%27-sucks/why-we-avoid-dc-at-all-costs-283829.php

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Ah, Green Space! How I Heart Thee!

Common Good City Farms was featured on MSN Nightly News last night! Yay urban farms! Especially one literally a block away from me and part of a soon-to-be built park complex where an unused elementary school currently sits. Here is the drawing for the future park on the end of our block, which clearly promises to be awesome for sitting outside, playing with the visiting nephew, and attempting frisbee. The boy and I are super excited-- we never imagined that we'd buy a house on what we lovingly call "the 3rd worst block of LeDroit Park"* and end up with massive green space down the street!

Here's the vid:

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

*It's actually not a "bad block" at all. Sure, we have the po-lice swing by sometimes 'cause of something or the other and some houses have part-taaays (!) till late at night, but I'm a hillbilly and certainly no snob. I personally think that my neighbors have all been really friendly and we love it here--diversity is important to me, class, ethnicity, sexual orientation, perspectives, all of it. We just came up with the joking self-deprecation 'cause a lot of people in DC think that LeDroit Park is a war-zone or something. Which I'm okay with, 'cause then they don't come here... :)

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Gah! Kids These Days!

So, I saw this article in the NY Times (www.nytimes.com/2009/05/24/dining/24interns.html) about highly educated kids grabbing onto the new local food/organic farming trend and couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of some of the damn "activist" kids! Also, since I grew up in a multi-generational farm family, I'm probably a bit annoyed that it just now matters to people because it's trendy... So I'm sure this is a bit reactive... Ah, well!

So, basically the kids said:

1. Farming is hard!

I mean, who knew that farmers don't make much money or have access to entertainment technology or housing for their farmhands, much less for themselves?!? I mean, until I read about it in a food-trend book, it wasn't true, right?!?

2. Farmers aren't political enough!

Seriously, how dare they not do everything to the perspective and worldview of someone who has been at a liberal arts college for the last three years instead of making decisions based on the pressures of agribusiness monopolies, feeding their families, or paying their mortages in a society that hasn't given a shit about them until it was cool to actually buy the food from the farmers face to face? Tres chic!!!

3. I wish I'd been born in the 60s so I could be a part of a cool hip social movement!

Dude!!! Like, come the fuck on! Wishing you had been around to help change the past because lots did it back then means you are less about change and activism and more about you and your ego... Like a LOT of privelaged "activists" I met in college and beyond. Real change and activism isn't about realizing it's happening and feeling swell about yourself, it's about doing it regardless because it matters! Now that a bunch of sheep think that taking care of, well, sheep, matters, we're all special and care and aren't we AWESOME!!! It's harmful like the people who held (and still hold) the 50s up as some sort of magical era of perfection (if you were white, had money, and were a man or enjoyed a man telling you what to do) and fought the 60s tooth and nail. Nostalgia does no one any good! Change the world for the sake of what's right, not your identity or status.

I mean...

Of course I think that the more people who understand farms, the better. I also think that the farm fresh, local food movement is also important, economically, environmentally, and socially. And I know that a lot of these kids are young and will hopefully learn a lot about themselves and other lifestyles, no matter where their intentions started. I just worry, from my own personal interactions, about the exoticising or fetishing of activism and social movements where it ends up being about selfish ego and status, instead of for other people...

But, I guess anything that gets people out there, doing something, instead of being apathetic, is good...

I'm still going to roll my eyes, though, when you say dumb things!

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::Cringe::

Oh, lovely home-state of Arkansas, here is one of your residents* proving my not five-minutes-ago post about how hilariously simple it is to not be racist towards peers and coworkers and yet it's somehow still SO DIFFICULT!

From Salon:

The GOP throws away the Yiddishe Mama vote

Periodically, you hear a Republican complain, “Why isn’t [Minority Group X] voting for us? We’re the ones who represent their real interests.” Democrats, you see, actually want to make sure predominantly African-American schools stay in terrible shape by opposing vouchers. They’re also out to keep Hispanics poor. Oh, and while they’re at it, they’re quietly making arrangements with Mahmoud Ahmadinejad for the destruction of Israel.

Somehow, the GOP manages to get all shocked that these arguments don’t have black, Hispanic and Jewish voters flocking to them. How have Democrats hoodwinked all these people?

Anyway, that brings us to Arkansas state Sen. Kim Hendren, from state Sen. Kim Hendren, currently the only Republican running against Sen. Blanche Lincoln, D-Ark. At a recent appearance with a GOP group, Hendren referred to Sen. Chuck Schumer, D-N.Y., as "that Jew."

By way of apology, Hendren said later:

At the meeting I was attempting to explain that unlike Sen. Schumer, I believe in traditional values, like we used to see on The Andy Griffith Show. I made the mistake of referring to Sen. Schumer as “that Jew” and I should not have put it that way as this took away from what I was trying to say.

The bit about Andy Griffith is an especially deft touch.* But if it's traditional values he's looking out for, well, he could do a lot worse than the Jews. Just ask "Fiddler on the Roof's" Tevye:

And who has the right, as master of the house,
To have the final word at home?

The Papa, the Papa! Tradition!

If only the spacetime continuum were a little more cooperative. Alas, the 19th-century shtetl doesn't get a vote in 21st-century Arkansas.


*not representative of the whole but certainly not alone
*yeah, 'cause didn't Andy Griffith's values lead him to vote for Obama?

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Tide Goes Out

Okay, it might be a bit presumptuous since our mortgage lady will NOT call me back, but...we are done with the first stage of the house!!! We have toilets and sinks and lights and knobs and toilet paper holders and heat (kinda but that's another story for never since I'm tired of it existing...) and all the things that most people have when they move into a house! So now we can buy wardrobes and clean out the pit of an office and decorate!! And, the best part is that we can do it at our own pace instead of someone else's... Finally, I can return to the world and snark on here until my heart is brimming with wit and quips :)

Oh and a shout out to all you peeps that helped and, if crashing at our abode, were flexible about brushing your teeth in the tub! Thanks!!!

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The Wide, Blue Yonder

I tend to mix rants with personal diary here on this ole' blog, but today is a bit of both. One of my BFFs, Sara, just came to DC to visit and it was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G to see her! She is home-based in ATL as of late, so I'm lucky that her job brings her to my neck of the woods at least once a year so I can kiss her lovely face and color on tables and drink copious amounts of alcohol. And tonight, one of my other BFFs, monkeyhead Allison, is flying in for a mutual friend's 30th birthday. So, two of my favorite lovelies in less than a fortnight! Yay! Yay! Yay! Not to mention that one of my other BFF cuddleheads was up with one of her friends in Jan for the Inauguration, and though we didn't get too much one-on-one time because it wasn't really a visit to see me, it was a visit to experience history, it was great to see her, for whatever reason, for any amount of time, Amen.

So, when Sara left yesterday, it occurred to me that, although my best friend since forever, the Divine Ms. Em, lives a 15-minute walk from me, and I have oodles and gobs of great friends here in DC, some of my favorite people live very far away from me. And the only way to see them is for them to fly to see me or me to fly to see them or us both fly to somewhere to see each other... My family is in Arkansas, so I already have to balance friend visits with family visits, especially since the nephew entered the world and he's my favorite thing EVER... plus I only have so much vacation time... and I only have so much money (read: none... at least that's expendable). Luckily, I have a partner that understands that part of what makes me "me" are these friends and the experiences I have with them, so he's so great about me traveling off to other places without him and spending money on airline tickets, if we have it. I mean, sure he wants some time just the two of us as well, so there's always trying to figure out if he's just being supportive or if he means it, but still, he's awesome about it. Regardless, when you add all those factors up, the actual fact is that I very rarely have the time or the money to see people. They are so great and come to me, usually tacked onto work or a conference or something like that, which rocks. But it's not near as often as I'd like and it seems like it's getting rarer and rarer with work and the house and everything pulling at me at once.

And that makes me sad. 'Cause you far-away friends out there, I want you to know that I love you. You are some of my favorite people in the world. And I would see you EVERY DAY if I could.

But I can't. So... I promise to keep checking cheap airline tickets and working credit time so I can get some 3 day weekends here and there to come see you. And I promise to keep offering to pay for part of flights out to see me if money is really the only issue. I swear that if it doesn't work out because of life on either side, it's okay--I know that you love me and I love you! Finally, I promise to make sure that you know that I miss you and how much I value our friendship, in person or not.

Thanks, friends! You make my world go round! No matter where you live in it...

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Elizabeth and the Tunnel of Doom

So, the boy and I were lucky enough to get purple tickets to the inauguration, got up at the ass-crack of dawn, walked from LeDroit Park, and patiently waited in line. In the 395 tunnel. For four hours.  AND NEVER MADE IT IN. 

Sufficed to say, I'm pissed. I'm sad. I'm angry.  And an apology is not enough.  I won't ever get this experience back... and I'm one of the lucky few who lives in DC, knew where to go when I finally got the fuck out of there, and got home just in time to see the speech.  Thousands of people (way more than the four thousand bullshit number they are throwing out) were in the tunnel behind me and thousands were in front of me and all of us were turned away, many of whom were black Americans who had waited years for this day, never dreaming that it would be possible.  And we couldn't hear a damn word from where we were crammed and jammed and standing.

I want a redo.  And I want it NOW.

PS I have to say, though, that I am still a fairly happy camper... Obama is president, his speech was lovely (loved the shout-out to us non-believers!), I got to go the Mayor's Inaugural Celebration and see T.I. and Wyclef (thanks Em and Paul!!!!!!!!!!!), and Jenn and Tish came into DC for the event, so, I had lots of love and lots of hope.  It's just my hope wasn't floating quite so high after I got out of that damn tunnel...

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quick life update for those that care

we still don't have the heat in the house resolved, we're still sleeping on the floor, we still can't get the couch upstairs, and i'm still an anxiety monster. oo, and we're dogsitting an 80 lb boxer with a uti, i have bronchitis, and, did i mention, i'm still grumpy?

but soon (please GOD, soon!) i'll be able to start on the nuts and bolts of the house (the rest of the toilets, paint, unpacking) and i'll post some pictures.

okay, update over.

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Rejection!

So, we moved today... which was not so awesome.  But, hey, it's done!  However, my house has passed judgment on our boxspring and our couch--NONE SHALL PASS!!!!  Or at least, not fit up the stairs... so, I guess that means we have to find new solutions... However, my house did accept (through open front doors while unpacking the truck) a crazy drunk lady who rudely demanded pizza, money from my friends, and called my husband an asshole because we wouldn't give her a second piece of pizza or thirty cents.  She didn't have meth face or crack teeth and had really nice clothes on, so I'm hoping she was possessed by the pizza devil?  At the very least, I hope she's not a regular. Though she did offer $3 a month to rent a room in the house and who can pass up that sweet of a deal?

Welcome to the neighborhood!

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I HATE MOVING!!!!!

... but can't wait to not have to share a house with people.  Well, other than the boy, obviously.

We move all of our crap this weekend, but the house still isn't finished.  There's painting to do, toilets to install, and we still have no heat.  So, we'll be in the old place on an inflatable mattress next week, but all of our stuff (e.g. THE INTERNET!) will be at the new place.  How will I ever survive?

Woe is me.

Okay, not really, since my house WILL be rockin'--it just needs some patience and tender, loving care.  And some toilets to pee in.

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