Rest in Peace, Ava.

My five year old yellow lab, Ava, was hit and killed by a bus today. Although I'm sad, I want to remember the good things about her and all of the things she taught me that I would never have learned had she not been in my life.

1. Life is too short to skimp on an extra treat, even if you are a little pudgy.

2. That even if your tail wags a little differently (say, in circles), you'll still have a family that loves you for it.

3. That even if your body hurts when you wake up because you have premature arthirits, it's nothing a game of frisbee won't fix.

4. That you should never let someone else's (especially the cat's) food go to waste.

5. That your parents bed is always more comfy than your own.

6. That you must never stick your head in someone else's business, or you might get bitten.

7. That things, like chew toys, are always more fun when you look at them from another angle (upside down, for example).

8. That you'll never look bad if you're wearing purple.

9. That you should bask in short naps and strech your legs before getting up (see: number 5).

10. That you should love all your neighbor dogs, and you'll never be lonely.

Rest in peace, Ava.

Daley combats Chicago homelessness

Daley outlined the actions Chicago is taking to reduce the threat of increased homelessness due to the recession at a press conference at the Westin Hotel on Wednesday.

“Chicago and America, in this great recession, have to do a much better job in regards to helping the less fortunate,” said Mayor Richard Daley. “The less fortunate are growing because of the economic crisis.”

Approximately 5,000 Chicago residents are homeless, or about .17 percent of all Chicago residents. In 2009, 884 people were living on the street, about 35 percent fewer than in 2003.

“Everyone needs to realize that this is a serious, serious recession and it’s not going to get better,” Daley said. “Everyone has to be a part of the solution, not a part of the problem.”

To combat homelessness, Daley plans on using $1.4 million from the parking meter reserve, which he referred to as “a rainy day fund.” About $700,000 will be used to increase the capacity at homelessness shelters, and an additional $700,000 will be used to support Chicago’s 2003 Plan to End Homelessness, a system designed to get and keep people off the streets.

According to Daley, the core principles of the Plan to End Homelessness are prevention, establishing housing, providing services to keep people from losing their homes, and putting the homeless on a path to a better life.

“It’s time to support those that need our help,” Daley said.

Despite the economic condition, the city is making progress in its mission to reduce the number of homeless residents, according to Nancy Radner, CEO of Chicago Alliance to End Homelessness.

With a program called Street to Home, the city moves homeless people living on the streets to housing provided by the government. Since the program began in 2003, the count of homeless residents is down.

“What that says is that our plan has been working,” said Radner. “However, we see a crisis looming, and we don’t want to pat ourselves on the back yet because we just don’t know what the next year will bring. Homelessness is a delayed response to the bad economy.”

Dorothy Yancy, a formerly homeless resident of Chicago, said she believes the program is a positive response to the problem of homelessness.

“Today, I have my own apartment,” Yancy said. “I’m proud to be a part of the Chicago Alliance. If it hadn’t been for people like Nancy Radner helping me out and having faith in me, I don’t know what I would have done.”

T-Mobile Data Out(r)age

The head honchos at T-Mobile have really dug themselves into a hole this time.

In early October, thousands of T-Mobile sidekick users were thrown off kilter when the data stored in their beloved smart phones disappeared literally overnight. Thanks to Microsoft's decision to outsource from Sidekick SAN to Hitachi, untold Sidekick users woke up one morning scratching their heads. For reasons unknown, Microsoft failed to make a backup before starting.

After a slew of angry phone calls from rightfully pissed-off Sidekick users, T-Mobile offered up it's first seemingly apologetic release, straight from the hands of their CEO. Or at least his interns.

The release contained information that a $20 data credit for the month would be automatically added to everyone's bill, courtesy of the company. Customer responses were overwhelming, and none of them were good.

"The $20 data credit is a joke," one T-Mobile customer posted on the website's support forum. "I don't even have any data to use the credit for."

But there were still the hopeful, willing to accept the $20 while waiting for their data to return. On the morning of Oct. 10, all hopes were shattered when the company issued the following release:

"Regrettably, based on Microsoft/Danger's latest recovery assessment of their systems, we must now inform you that personal information stored on your device - such as contacts, calendar entries, to-do lists or photos - that is no longer on your Sidekick almost certainly has been lost as a result of a server failure at Microsoft/Danger. That said, our teams continue to work around-the-clock in hopes of discovering some way to recover this information. However, the likelihood of a successful outcome is extremely low."

To make a long story short-- sorry, but your shit is gone.

Inevitably, there are lawsuits. Lots and lots of lawsuits. T-Mobile even suffered a slight scare after one customer threatened to blow up T-Mobile's customer service headquarters after she was refused a free contract cancellation.

On Oct. 19, T-Mobile issued the first of several restoration programs. By backing up now available data to your computer, you may access some of your lost contacts. T-Mobile is offering Sidekick users a $100 gift card to be used on one of their products in addition.

There they go adding salt to the wound again. Even if we are getting a $100 gift card, who says we want to spend it on them?

Can this gift card be used for the contract cancellation fee?

Until Sidekick data services are completely back to normal, Microsoft/T-Mobile have postponed the sale of Sidekick contracts.

Daley proposes 2010 budget that dips into reserves

Daley proposed a 2010 budget address on Wednesday that promised to hold off on tax increases and instead, take from the reserve fund created by the parking meter program.

“More than ever, Chicago working and middle-class families need our support,” said Daley. “To that, I want to say, ‘I hear you. I know you’re struggling. I’m fighting for you.’”

Daley’s 2010 budget proposal totals $6.14 billion, up from $5.97 billion in 2009.

To help avoid service cuts, Daley plans on using $370 million from the Parking Meter Human Infrastructure Fund, which has generated about $19 million per year since its introduction in 2008.

“The trouble is that as our revenues are falling, people are demanding more services from the city, not fewer, to help them through difficult, tough times,” Daley said.

He also promised to leave the $500 million Chicago Skyway reserve fund untouched, which will leave a total reserve fund balance of $730 million for future use.

“I know if we act responsibly, Chicago will get through these challenging times and emerge stronger for it,” said Daley.

Daley said the budget will invest in economic stimulus funds in areas such as job training, street resurfacing, and energy efficiency. It will also maintain the number of officers in the city’s police and fire departments.

$35 million will be used to provide property tax grants to homeowners in need, who may receive as much as $200 each, according to Daley.

“The challenges we face today are tougher than ever, but we can’t allow the challenges to stand in our way,” said Daley.

Flu shots free to Englewood residents with Medicare

According to pharmacist Michael Oliveri, getting an annual flu shot is a no-brainer.

“The shot is for anyone who wants to stay healthy,” Oliveri said. “It’s definitely the most effective way to prevent getting the flu, and it’s the most effective way to prevent passing on the flu.”

AARP and Jewel Osco sponsored flu vaccines for Englewood residents over 50 at the Englewood Salvation Army on Wednesday. Those who were covered by Medicare received the shot for free, while those that did not have coverage paid $24.99.

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, five percent to 20 percent of the population gets the flu each year. On average, more than 200,000 people are hospitalized from flu-related complications, and about 36,000 die from flu-related causes.

“Even young people are at risk,” said Amir Masood, a Jewel Osco pharmacist.

Englewood Ruth Jackson, 77, and husband Earl, 78, were among the approximate 10 people to receive a vaccine on Wednesday.

“We receive our flu shots every year,” Ruth Jackson said.

In addition to Englewood, AARP and Jewel Osco are hosting free flu vaccines in Chicago’s Brunswick and Austin communities.

“It is important to give people an opportunity to be healthy in these tough economic times,” said Carmenza Millan, an AARP spokeswoman. “If you don’t have your health, you don’t have anything.”

Chicago City Colleges chancellor search

The top spot at city colleges of Chicago is an insider job.

The board of trustees held public forum was held Wednesday to address concerns and comments on the search for chancellor for the City Colleges of Chicago. Each of the participants agreed that the elected chancellor should have experience within Chicago’s community colleges.

“There are many good quality people who would be able to run the city colleges because of the experience they have,” Perry Buckley, President of Local 1600, said. “In fact, I think it would be a disaster if we looked outside the system.”

The new chancellor will take over the position held by former chancellor Wayne Watson, who retired earlier this year. The position, which takes charge of the largest college district in Illinois, is responsible for directing seven campuses that educate more than 120,000 students.

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, workers with a high school degree earned about 26 thousand dollars less per year than a worker with a bachelor’s degree.

“It’s about access to education and a better life,” Jerry Roper, President and CEO of the Chicagoland Chamber of Commerce, said.

According to Matthew Kavorzos, a part-time student at Harold Washington, whether the new chancellor is an insider is not as important as the changes he or she will make to the financial aid system.

“Financial aid is never enough for people that work hard,” Kavorzos said. “A lot of kids getting financial aid don’t even bring backpacks to class.”

Kavorzos also hopes to see changes in curriculum and updated computer software for student use.

Nothing worse than Saturdays alone.

What a week.

My dad had a serious operation done on Monday and I've been in and out of the hospital helping out. Let me just say that I hate hospitals, but I hate hospital food even more.

He didn't have much of a view from his room. It was the rooftop of another building so we didn't spend much time gazing out the window. We watched lots of Jerry Springer because channel 7 was the only one that worked.

It was also the first week of class after spring break, which is never good. It rained plenty in the city and I sacrificed style for a dry body more than once. I can't imagine what I looked like on Tuesday, running down Congress Parkway in a sweater and leggings, my hair flapping wildly behind me as the rain came down.

Last night I spent time with some friends. As usual, I spent my night sober while most... er, all... did not. One guy told me he thinks he saw me in PlayBoy. Another one asked me where I worked five times in an hour and didn't show any sign of remembering he'd already asked when I answered.

A lot of people came up to me and said, "you look so pissed."

Why, people? Because I'm sitting on the couch drinking water and petting the dog and you're all laughing and knocking things over?

I'm not pissed, but I'm not amused.

So needless to say, it was a kind of stupid night aside from being with some friends.

I'm absolutely worn out. Got an hour of sleep last night and a headache to prove it.

However, I did finish 2 Warhol-inspired paintings this week which I will post soon!
I really need a good night tonight.

Where were you when the world walked out?

I heard my name and I knew the voice but couldn't place it. I turned around and looked for a familiar face but it took a minute to register when I finally saw her. The shock threw me off; she was twenty pounds heavier, had an eyebrow piercing, and wore a hemp necklace. She caught up with me and grinned, her smile the only thing that seemed the same. I half-smiled back and managed a "My God, how have you been?" but my mind was reeling.

Here was someone I once considered family. My sister. The same little girl I laid next to in a sleeping bag at summer camp and talked about our pets and what actors we would marry. Who went with me to see Fall Out Boy at little shitty VFW halls and The Muse Cafe. This was the same little girl who would take me to her dad's house with her every other weekend because she didn't trust him enough to be there alone.

This was the same girl who said we would always be close. Who, in a 7 year friendship, I trusted more than anyone I had ever met. The same girl who I loved even when she started choosing sex and cigarettes over our friendship.

(This would be my first experience of loving more than I was loved.)

So we're standing in the blistering July heat and I'm staring at the sweat on her forehead while she's talking about where she's living these days. She talks about her brother in jail and then asks what bands I came to Warped this year to see.

All this time I'm wondering why she was ever in my life to begin with. And then I realize that I grew because I lost her. Because I suffered my first heartbreak in losing her, not a boyfriend. Because she made me angry and hurt and lonely. And because I had no one when I moved to a new neighborhood, I had to learn to be my own best friend.

I'm still applying that concept.

On that summer day, she said, "We really should get together sometime." I said, "Yeah," and gave her my number. Angry and half in love with her, I turned and walked away, knowing she wouldn't call.

She never did.



You know who you are. You might stumble across this one day. I hope that when you do you are better off than the last time I saw you.

How much money does it take to sell your dreams?

I've been sitting at my desk since 6am answering the same phone with the same greeting.

"Hello, and thank you for calling Volvo. How may I direct your call?"

And as I push every button on the switchboard, page every "important person", and tell every customer to "hold, please," I keep thinking that I can't do this forever. Live someone else's dream. I need to do something productive and worthwhile to me.

I need to keep creating.

Living.

Breathing in color.

Luckily, I'm not trapped yet. I have a few years of college ahead of me and this job is only a menial, part-time thing. But so many people are backed into corners. So many people settle for less because they don't want to push themselves and do the hard work to get where they need to go. Sure, a lot of people wake up when they're 50 years old and say, "Yeah, my life turned out good." But how many people get to wake up and can look back and say, "Wow, my life was fucking awesome,"? How many people get to look forward to going to work? How many people kiss their wives or husbands of 20 years the way they did when they were newlyweds?

My dad is the smartest man I know, but he spends his days doing finances in a cubicle as a car sales manager. He works long hours, mostly 9-9s, and is always tired when he comes home. He watches some TV before bed and then wakes up and does it all again. He makes good money and has always provided for my mom and us. But does he love it? No. What he does love is political science. He went to law school, but some time after college someone offered him a job crunching numbers and he took it because it wasn't a risk.

I will always choose passion over security.

My magazine journalism degree can only get me so far, I'm told. My professors say things like, "Oh, it'd be easy to write for Men's Health or Women's Day or Parenting Magazine." Yeah, but who wants that? Who says "easy" is the best way to go? I'll be damned if I use my intelligence for something I know it wasn't made for. I'm going big. I'm going to write books and poems and letters. I'm going to meet as many people as I can and go everywhere I get the chance to travel. I will never settle for "good enough", "content", or any of the other bullshit people feed you to make you feel like did something great when you didn't.

I want to love my job. I want to write books and earn a name for myself. I want to learn high-fashion makeup and how to give a good massage. I want to take bartending classes. I want to go to the Amazon for a year and take care of orphaned gorillas. I want to live in California for at least a year. I want to learn and experience everything I can.

I want to kiss and smile and breathe and run and sleep knowing that I'm doing the best I can.

My dreams are varied and so many people have told me at least one or another is stupid. But I'm not doing it for YOU. I'm doing it for me. Call me naive, stupid, whatever you want. But take a look at yourself before your point fingers. If you're not striving to be your best, too, I feel sorry for you.

Just watch me.

I am at a turning point. This is it... I can feel it.

It's been building for a long time. Since I was twelve and laying in my bed with the lights off and not sleeping because I was terrified to turn over. That something would be staring at me through the darkness. The past. My nightmares. Monsters. I'd pull the blankets to my chin and fold my hands over my chest because if something was going to get me, my heart would somehow be protected.

I've been doing it every night since. And every other hollow, fleeting minute of the day. Protecting myself. Finding excuses to get angry at (and subsequently push away) the people who start to get close.

Because the truth is, I'm scared that no one will love me up close. That if you stepped up and peered at me long enough, you'd see through my I-don't-give-a-fuck-eyes and right down into my jealous, dirty little heart. You'd see the guilt and the anger in its guise of sadness. The insecurity and hurt glowing from the same girl who told you she knows she's a looker. You'd see the past that I can't let go. Until now.

I have to if I want my life to go anywhere. I'm getting over what I can't control and I'll admit things I could never bring myself to admit before because the pain and embarassment they brought with saying.

There have been times in the last several years that I was so full with grief I felt I might combust.

But so what? Shit happened and I'm tired of holding it on my shoulders. I'm not the same person I was four or three or two or even one year ago. I'm more mature and more composed. And despite how many things I might've screwed up in building walls around myself, I'll do the best I can now to tear them down and fix whatever I can.

And tell people what I think.
And allow myself to be as vulnerable as I can handle being.

Because despite the names, the abuse, the eating disorder, the death and the lies, my bruised little heart is still beating and I refuse to waste even a second more of my life dwelling on something that is done with.

I'll let people in as much as I can bear and if they can't stand the look of a battered chest, it's their loss because I know that deep down, somewhere, I am still a good person.

First you take a drink and then the drink takes you.

The other night, a friend of mine bought a fake ID. I took one look at it and said, "you'll never get away with it." We were having dinner and our waiter brought me another glass of water. My friend held out the ID to him and said, "What do you think?"

He said, "I think you could pull it off. Just tell them you lost twenty pounds." Then he asked me if I had one. When I told him no, he seemed surprised and asked me, "So why don't you drink?"

I told him I think it's strange that in a culture where people pay money to lose their inhibitions and forget themselves night by night, someone who doesn't drink is perceived as strange.

From what I've noticed...
Some of my friends drink because they like to start their stories with, "So last night I got SO drunk and...".
Some of my friends drink because they don't know what to do with a night they'll be able to remember.
A lot of my friends drink because that's how their other friends want to spend time and they're too lacking in confidence to say, "You know what? Let's just go bowling."

Fine. I don't care about who drinks and doesn't drink and how someone is going to spend his or her free time. It's not like I won't respect someone just because they choose to knock a few back on the weekends. But be responsible and do it for the right reasons because what I don't respect is insincerity.

What I don't respect is someone who has to have a few drinks just to look a stranger in the eye. Just to feel comfortable having a deep conversation. Just to be honest with others-- and themselves. Just to have the confidence to dance and laugh.

What I don't respect is someone who uses incoherence or alcoholism as an excuse to do stupid, shitty things.

i.e. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. I was drunk."
i.e. "I didn't mean to sleep with him. I was drunk."

I don't respect people who use alcohol as a coping mechanism. Who use kegs to forget their problems and martinis to do things without consequences, at least for the night. It's sad that a lot of very intelligent, beautiful people walk into clubs and bars and stumble out at two a.m. with someone they barely know.

I don't respect putting your money in a glass and drinking it in order to feel something other than sadness.

I understand some people are incapable of expressing their feelings.
I understand my character is stronger and I make better decisions. That unhealthy habits are reflections of an unsteady will and a lack of true expression and honesty.

I think all addicts are weak. I think weekend alcoholics are sad and lacking in character. And that's why I will never respect them.

I know some people need to escape. Emotions are horrifying. Memories can be overwhelming. The urge to hide yourself is instinctive.

It's the giving in part that I can't comphrenend.

Chewing on a plastic straw.

I guess I've been lacking in the update department. Day to day it feels like I have a lot on my plate and am struggling to find a balance between things, but when I look back at my week or month I don't really remember accomplishing anything significant.

I think I read somewhere something about hypothetically having an extra $5,000 and the ways you could spend it. The author reasoned that you could either pay your bills on time or you could take a trip to Europe. Paying your bills would be the responsible thing to do, but one or ten years from then, what would be more significant? What would you remember more?

Europe, obviously. But I'm the bill-paying type.

I was taught from an early age to go exactly by the books. In second grade I cried in school because I spelled a word wrong on a spelling test. Nothing less than an A+ was acceptable to me or my parents. I got a job three days after I turned sixteen because that was the responsible and the right thing to do. I still save half, if not more, of everything I make (having a reliable checkings account is the "right" thing to do, too).

I went to college because it's what I was supposed to do.
By the books.

I decided to major in journalism because my mom always told me I would be a writer, so when I was a senior in high school and I still couldn't figure out what made me happy, I chose the second best thing: what made my mom happy. If she said it was right, I reasoned it must have been.

I can't even fathom the number of times I've applied the "right" concept to a situation. More and more it feels like I'm doing things for purely logical reasons instead of doing things that really make me happy.

More and more, it feels like I'm just a machine with shiny cogs and levers but no drive to get any real work done.

Sometimes I want to be able to know that I am capable of doing something completely unpredictable and out of my element.

But I and everyone I'm close to knows I am not there yet and in turn, I'm barely tolerable.

Letting Go

When you lose someone, there will always a time to move on. A grieving period is acceptable. Anger, in moderation, is okay. Eventually, though, the time to let go needs to come.

There are three issues with loss that I feel should be properly addressed, all of which have been on my mind. First is what I'll call "casual loss", or losing someone over time, followed by an immediate loss, when you suddenly and completely eject someone from your life, and finally, I will address death.

"Casual loss" is not something you plan on, and it is rarely caused by a disagreement. Sometimes one person moves away and the relationship suffers. You talk less and less until all you are is an annual Christmas card. It happens to high school friends when they split up and go to different colleges. Some stay close, but most do not. You see that person ten years later at your reunion and she tells you about her husband and two children and you think, My God, I used to know everything about her and now I don't even know her last name.

Casual loss is not heartbreaking as it happens over time. It's only when you look back that you get a sense of nostalgia, but even that doesn't hurt so much. In the time you've lost someone, you've established new relationships to cushion the blow.

These days, there are times I will get an email from a gradeschool friend or run into someone I knew from my old neighborhood. They will say, You look great! We should really get lunch sometime, and I will smile and nod, but the truth is I am not interested in entertaining my past. The truth is I am over missing people who never cared enough to stay in my life in the first place.

The second kind of loss is immediate loss, the kind that tends to happen with most breakups and the reason best friends stop talking. It happens with a fight or another kind of disagreement, when one person can so barely stand the other that an immediate loss is necessary. This is okay. It is often mandatory that a person cuts another out of his or her life. What is not okay is going back on it and causing friction in another person's life because you can't stand to see them happy without you.

I have an ex-boyfriend who sometimes calls and leaves me angry messages. He calls me names and spreads rumors in hopes of provoking me. He tells me I am not capable of love because I do not love him.

This is a perfect example of what is not okay.

Death is the hardest to overcome. Despite what everyone says about it- that it is final, that it is closure- I feel that death is a beginning. Not in a religious way, because I'm not sure if I believe in heaven and hell, but more in a relationship way. It's the end of your relationship with them as living people and the beginning of your time with them as memories. Death is unsettling. There's not ever enough closure. It doesn't seem make your relationship with the desceased final and over- it seems to make it feel like everything is free-falling. You'll always be waiting to have a goodbye conversation and it won't ever come.

In a few days I will be acknowledging the two-year anniversary of my best friend's death. I rarely speak of him and when I do, he is perfect, golden, the only person who has never hurt me. But that isn't the case; it rarely is. He and I fought bitterly and sometimes went months at a time without speaking. For seven years I watched him struggle, abuse, and relapse. I stepped in to help several times and he pushed me away because that's the kind of relationship we had. I wanted to do one thing and he wanted opposite. I began to slowly remove myself from him, built up a wall so I would not have to watch a person I loved self-destruct. I refused to step in a final time even after he apologized and pleaded with me, and in three weeks time he was dead.

The guilt was on me for a long time. It was only after I let my anger go that I felt I could talk about him in a positive way.

I guess that's my moral today. Sometimes you need to let go of loss- and the past- in order to move forward with new relationships and the rest of your life.

Letting go of your past means being aware of your thoughts.
Letting go of your past means forgiving yourself for your mistakes.
Letting go of your past means accepting that there's nothing you can do to change it.

Yes We Did... What?

I started writing this entry on the 2:55 p.m. outbound train from Chicago to Joliet. I was two stops away from New Lenox when a mother and a daughter sat down on the seat paralleling mine. Train chugs along, Band of Horses is playing through my headphones, and everything is fine and dandy. I glance over at the happy little pair and notice the daughter, probably no more than five or six, is flipping through today's Chicago Sun Times. Good, I think to myself, this country needs more intellectuals! 

Train moves along a little more and I'm switching from Band of Horses to some good old As Tall As Lions. Music's paused when I hear, in song, "Baraaaaack Obamaaaaaa and Sashaaaaa and Maliaaaaa all livin' in the Whiiiiite Housseee!" And that is definitely not coming from my iPod. I look over, and little girl's eyes are locked on a picture of the newly elected & co. Momma pats her darling daughter on the head. 

"You lettem' hear it, child!" she exclaims rather loudly. 

"Baraaaaack and Michelleee, great peopleeee!" little girl sings louder. "Barack and Michelleyyyy!"

I roll my eyes, both annoyed and intrigued because I know I will end up blogging about this incident later. I try to sneak a picture on my phone-- no luck. Momma shoots me a look that says, "I wouldn't do that if I were you," and I cower, placing my phone back in my purse. I think about telling them I am a prospective journalist from Columbia College Chicago (not necessarily a lie) but decide against it.

Ten minutes later I exit the train. I am still thinking about little girl and Momma as I trek across the pavement to parking spot 902. It reminds me of earlier this morning when I was on my way to Dunkin Donuts for my mid-morning hot-chocolate. I found myself at the intersection of State Street and Congress Parkway staring completely aghast at a new business that was boldly named Obama's Hair Design.

I didn't know whether to laugh or take a picture. I opted for laughing because I was, after all, in the middle of an intersection with cars headed at me from two different directions. Although I didn't get the picture, I did find one online (apparently I am not the only one in Chicago who finds a salon named Obama's Hair Design completely ridiculous). 

Okay, so I'll stop the storytelling and get to the point. As a journalism student, I've probably seen more papers, magazines, broadcast programs, and brochures with Obama's face plastered on the front than most people. In November, understandable. December, fine. January, alright, I'll deal with it and just hope it goes away soon. But at the end of February? Fucking ridiculous. It's a marketing scheme. Obama sells papers, I get it. But honestly, how much news is there about him? How many times can someone pull the race story? What has the man done so far in order to get a hair salon named after himself?

Before he was elected, I saw the shirts: "Yes We Can!" and I'll be openminded. Support your candidate-- I get that. After the election, I saw the "Yes We Did!" shirts. Well, YWD shirt-wearers, let me ask you this: yes we did... what? Get elected? That happens to someone every four years, people. It's not shirt-worthy. Again, I ask, why do we have places in Chicago named Obama's Hair Design? Why are little girls on trains singing about him? What has he done so far aside from push a 787 billion dollar stimulus bill and scream "hope" at the top of his lungs (only to later rather solemnly describe the current economy)?

I'm not bashing the prez. I'm not saying I don't support the man and hope everything turns out for the best for him and for the U.S. I'm just stating a simple fact that everyone's been seemingly overlooking since inauguration. It's hype. It's pop-culture. And until I see some improvements, I'm not wearing any t-shirts.

Moo the kitten photos- 2.19.09

Main life component #4: Family

Back to what's most important. As anyone probably could have guessed, family is included in the list of the most important things in my life. Again, this list isn't in any kind of order, so please don't think to yourself "Wow! What kind of girl puts school in front of family?" I don't (if it weren't for the good graces of my parents and a certain deceased grandfather, I wouldn't even be able to go to school right now).

The majority of my extended family is important to me (and I say "the majority" because I have an enormous family and there are plenty of relatives I don't associate with), but my immediate family is, of course, my favorite. Instead of trying to group the three of them into a category, I'm going to take advantage of separate paragraphs and spell out their personalities and my relationship with each of them, which contrast about as much as white contrasts with black.

1. Therese "TC" (Little sister)
Therese and I are like night and day, and that goes for personalities, interests, and looks. She inherited what I like to call the "good" genes: long legs, fast metabolism, pretty light brown hair and eyes. She is about 5'7" at 14 years old. I, on the other, will probably never grow the five inches she has on me, and I have to work to keep a slender figure. My eyes aren't quite brown, but not fully green, and I'm not actually sure what my real hair color is, except that it's too dark to be blonde and too light to be brown. All that being said, when Therese and I stand next to each other, she thinks it's funny to call me "little sister" even though I've got over five years on her. To that, I say, "That's okay. Mom asked if I wanted a sibling before she went and got pregnant with you. If I didn't say yes, you wouldn't be alive."

Our humor with each other is odd and I'd imagine an outsider would look at us and not understand why we are at each other's throats one second and laughing about an inside joke the next. I'm positive it has to do with being siblings- growing up in the same house with the same parents and situations. We do things together when we can, but these days we don't see much of each other (that never seemed to be a problem with her, who moved into my old bedroom the second I got the last box out).
I'm sure we'll always have a relationship similiar to the one we have now, but I'm not concerned with. We have a better relationship than most.

2. Mikie (Mom)
My mom and I are getting along for the first time since I can remember. I know it has to do with my being older- the more I age, the more fun we have together. We still argue occassionally, but I know she always loves me and vice-versa. She has always been the parent that encouraged me to go for what I want instead of what other people (including my father) tells me to do.

3. Tom (Dad)
My dad and I don't see much of each other now, but he and I have always had a close relationship. He is the more traditional and strict parent, but he spoils me as much as he sees fit, too. Thanks to him, my name is Ashlee Jordan instead of Jordan Christina, and he will forever have my praise for that.

Happy Valentine's Day!

I decided to take a break today from my life component blogs and talk about- what else?- love! And lust and infatuation, for that matter. I have had three significant relationships in my years and a few not-so-significant ones. I think it's safe to say that I've felt all three of these things at some point in time (and sometimes I've felt all of them at once), and therefore I am deeming myself educated enough on these subjects to first list the definition of the word (according to dictionary.com) and follow up by giving advice about how to tell which one (or ones) you're feeling.

I will start with love.

Love.
noun. love, loving.
1. a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
2. a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.
3. sexual passion or desire.
4. a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.
5. (used in direct address as a term of endearment, affection, or the like): Would you like to see a movie, love?
6. a love affair; an intensely amorous incident; amour.
7. sexual intercourse; copulation.

I believe that real love is usually pure and sometimes mildly possessive. I don't say always because we are only human. I believe that lasting relationships are those that are built on love - not infatuation or lust. Imagine the person you love in sixty years when they are old and fat and look like an old boot. Would that change how you feel about them? If yes, then what you feel now is probably not love. Also included in love is friendship. If you don't genuinely care about the person you're with, in sixty years you're probably going to be miserable. Eventually making a commitment to someone you love is important- there should be no fear or remorse in moving in together or marriage after time. Consider what you want from the person. If you just want to sleep with them, it is not love. If you want to spend time with them, learn about them, and have a sexual relationship with them, it is probably a good mix of love, lust, and infatuation. Also consider- does sex make you feel closer to this person? Or are you beginning to feel anxiety or regret? If either of the latter, it is not love. Love does not happen immediately and does not only happen in a "perfect" relationship. You need arguements, mistakes, and sometimes even regret in order for someone to say, "I know what you did and I still love you." Loving someone is acceptance of all that is and has been.

Lust.
noun
1. intense sexual desire or appetite.
2. uncontrolled or illicit sexual desire or appetite; lecherousness.
3. a passionate or overmastering desire or craving

When I think about lust, what generally comes to mind is a relationship that is expressed solely through physical affection. Lust tends to wear off the surprise wears off. Relationships that begin with lust generally do not make it to the "love" stage; if you sleep with a person right away, you probably won't get anywhere with them in the long run.

Infatuation.
noun
1. the state of being infatuated.
2. the act of infatuating.
3. foolish or all-absorbing passion or an instance of this: a mere infatuation that will not last.
4. the object of a person's infatuation: When I was a kid, my infatuation was stamp collecting.

Infatuation can be detected easily, when a persons says he loves someone, but is unwilling to talk, make any eye contact, or willing to do anything at all, but stay away, remaining shy throughout the relationship. Jealousy is usually a result of infatuation, an insecurity or fear of being alone. Infatuation grows into full bloom almost immediately, unlike love.

If you're not sure about your feelings or your relationship, take things slowly. Spend time apart and see how you are feeling while you are away. Do you miss the person? Or are you more attracted to others when you are apart? You may also want to consider the fact that it's not always as easy as being one of these three things; often there are a lot of grey areas, the distinctions are blurred, and it is very possible to feel two or even all of these feelings for a person.

Ultimately, I believe a healthy relationship usually consists of a little bit of everything.

Main life component #3: Dave

When I started this blog, I vowed never to be one of those girls who sat around all day and bitched on her blog about her relationship with her boyfriend. However, I feel that since I am going through the major components of my life, it is only fair that I acknowledge my boyfriend, Dave.

With any relationship that lasts a significant amount of time, there will be plenty of ups and downs. We've had more than our share of both (of course, I don't mind the ups so much), and I will be the first to say that, no, my relationship with my boyfriend isn't perfect. Whether it's because we don't always have the most "normal" relationship - he's always leaving and coming home - or because I'm definitely a handful most of the time, I don't believe that just because sometimes people run into problems means that the relationship isn't right.

I was never one of those girls who dated a lot and I never tossed the word love around lightly. I had three boyfriends prior to Dave and none of them kept me so intrigued and so happy for so long. I may have loved one, but not the romantic kind of love; more so, the kind of love one feels for a close friend or family member. And that's why I know that this relationship is different and why it means so much to me. He has become my closest friend and even though sometimes it feels like we're on opposite sides of the world, the only person I'd really always wait for to come home.

Main life component #2: Friends

Main Component #2: Friends


It seems like the school post prior to this naturally led me to talk about the "friends" component of my life. Inevitable, of course; my friends are a large part of who I am now and a large reason I am this way. Although many people have come into my life and left, sometimes as quickly as they came, sometimes lasting a considerable amount of time longer, there are three girls who have managed to tolerate all of my bullshit and kick me in the ass when I need it. I don't want to name names in this blog for multiple reasons, but each of these girls knows who she is and where she stands with me. I am equally close with each of them, but in different ways.

One of them is not close physically- in August she moved three hours away- and as far as our interests go, we have little in common. Fourteen years ago we met in Mrs. Wylie's kindergarden class. Since then she has grown into an athletic, bubbly sorority girl while I found myself in the midst of the music scene at 14 years old. She never has any idea about who I'm talking about when I ask her if she's heard of the band so-and-so, and I've never heard of most of the alcoholic drinks at the frat parties she talks about. But we get together anyway and talk about the summers we spent at her family's cottage in South Haven, Michigan, and the friends we had as kids that all seemed to grow up and disappear. She is the friend that I know will probably always be there for me, despite the fact that we can't ever do anything that suits us both at once.

I have known another of my girls since 2003. We were barely fourteen; I had a chip on my shoulder and she had electric blue hair. We hated each other quietly for quite some time before actually speaking and found that when we did, we got along famously. These days, we are attending the same school. We laugh and gossip and hate and love all of the same people. We go to Denny's nearly every time we are together and our bill is always $18.14. We have spent countless hours driving around in search of something to do. Some nights we sat in parking lots and others we've gone to shows. We're both a tad egocentric, or at least we get that way when we get together. She's the kind of friend I tell everything to because I know that regardless of what I do, she'll laugh it off and make up some excuse as to why what I did was not so terrible. She makes me feel better about myself by lightening the effect of some serious problems I've had by telling me that everything will always be okay. Whether she really believes that or just says it to make me feel better, she is probably the one person that I could tell anything to and not worry about her looking at me differently.

I met my third close friend in 2006; she applied and was hired at the store where I was employed at the time and I told her that I liked her shoes. We found we had similar tastes in music; both of us had an undying passion for Bright Eyes, and we wore the same size clothes. We worked together for a year and a half before she quit to find another job- I quit shortly after. However, in that time together, we'd grown close and would often hang out on the weekends or after work. We've had our spats, arguements, and even one full-out fight, but we've come out of each of them with our friendship intact. She has seen me at my worst- literally. I have not touched alcohol in a long time, but the first time I ever did was with her. She found my intoxication hilarious and to this day teases me about it. Our friendship is unlike most; we don't find it necessary to party and drink and get rowdy to have fun together. True, we have not always had a perfect relationship, but I feel like we know each other well enough now to get through any arguements we might have eventually.

While it's true that I wish I more friends as close to me as these three (especially when they're all busy and I feel like going out), I am still extremely pleased that I have at least three, because while I don't have many other true friends- I'd say most of the people I know are just aquaintences- a lot of people who have many friends are not nearly as close with them as I am with mine.

Main life component #1: School

Last night I went up to Mojoe's to see my boyfriend's band, A Kidnap In Color, and a band from Florida, Go Radio. While there, I ran into at least twenty-something people I hadn't seen in a good while, most of whom said, "Damn, you're still alive?"

Yes, I most certainly am.

That being said, I attempted to sum up my life into a neat little package more than twenty times in a span of four hours. And anyone that knows me well probably realizes that putting anything into a neat little package is not a short or particularly easy process for me. Only this morning, when reflecting on last night, did I realize that maybe it would be a hell of a lot easier to spell out my life and all its dramatic little details on my blog than try to explain them in person (I got plenty of blank stares last night). That way, when someone asks how I'm doing, I can just hand them a little slip of paper with a cutesy little URL on it.

Okay, I'm totally kidding about the slip of paper. I'm not THAT into myself.

I do, however, feel the need to go through the main components of my life for myself if not for anyone else. Doing it all at once would be overwhelming so I will try and get through them over the next few days. So, these "main components" are not listed order of importance. Some don't matter at all; but what will be listed are just seemingly the things I was asked most about last night and therefore are important enough to talk about.

Main component #1: School
Blah blah blah, I'm a journalism major with a public relations minor at Columbia College Chicago. You've all heard it if you know me. How's that going? Shitty, actually, thanks for asking! Why?

• Journalism: I have a magazine concentration in the journalism program and before I can take any actual magazine classes I have to get news writing classes out of the way. That means, instead of writing features and spotlights (the big stories you see in AltPress, Rolling Stone, Ebony, Men's Fitness, or whatever you read), I'm stuck writing factual leads and breaking news (i.e. "Seven-year-old missing child found in New Brunswick, N.J. this weekend..."). These stories are essentially two to three paragraphs long are aren't worth anything a week after you write them. I am not and have never been interested in international affairs, politics, or natural disasters. Call it ignorance, tell me I can never be a journalist if I don't read the papers, say whatever you want. It doesn't make me any more interested in learning about what I don't give a shit about. I have one more news class to take after this semester and then I can get into magazine writing and editing, so I am hoping by then I enjoy it a bit more.
• Public relations: I absolutely love my PR classes. I absolutely love my PR professors. Google their names; they've worked for everyone from Bruce Springsteen to the Pope. Yes, the Pope. Recently I found out that I have the opportunity to go to L.A. for five weeks to do an internship to do PR for a massive firm there. Since marketing and journalism go hand-in-hand, I figure a well-rounded education can't hurt, and I can most likely get a job after school in either field. I am hoping that the company I plan to intern for (although I'm not allowed to say which company that is yet) will offer me a job after graduation, because I have heard from various sources (quite a few professional) that they tend to do that. Needless to say, I am stoked.

Academics aside, I've met so many awesome friends at school since I started at Columbia. In high school, I was never trendy or exceedingly outgoing- a bit out of my element, to say the least. But the second I stepped into that school, I was myself. And it shows; I'm much happier than I was a younger age, and unlike most college students, I actually look forward to going to class and seeing friends. I feel so fortunate to have the privelige of being in the city every day, too. I am trying hard to make sure I don't rush through everything (except maybe the assignments; namely, the term papers) and just enjoy where I'm at. It's a wonderful feeling and as far as school goes, I couldn't be happier.

Why are there no good quotes about brunettes?

Around 6pm last night my life as a blond was suddenly cut short and my new life as a dark-chestnut brunette rapidly began. As Polly, my stylist, stripped my hair of it's natural color and applied one of a much darker tone, I wondered out loud if a female's hair color really affects her status as much as the dumb-blond, boring-brunette stereotypes make us think. Polly, in her heavy Brooklyn accent, answered, "Of course it does, sweethaaaat."

Before I could ask what she meant, she lurched into a conversation about her mother's lack of interest in the trends of hairstyles ("the woman has the same damn haacut she had in the 70's, fa Christssake!"), and when having a conversation with Polly, the only acceptable subject matter is what Polly wants to talk about. That being said, I was left to research and conclude an answer to my probing question by myself.

The results were not surprising. According to various sources, polls, and ignorant men, as a brunette, I am:

• Better suited for marriage than my flaxen-haired counterparts
• Plain, humble, and eager to please (Hahahahahaha!)
• "Earthy" (Because my hair is the color of tree bark? If we are going to base our traits off of the color of other items, does this mean I have been greedy all along, since my hazel eyes mirror copper pennies?)
• Intelligent, self-sufficient, and independent (My dad would say otherwise. "You better marry rich!" he likes to say)

So, although I can only speak for myself, I am definitely not fitting of the brunette-stereotype, and I plan to have just as much fun as a brunette as I did as a blond. I am still attractive. I will probably still be on the receiving end of stupid pick-up lines from stupid men. I don't feel any less, or more, intelligent.

I dyed my hair dark because I felt like it.

If someone said, "Why did the green-eyed girl stare at the orange juice carton for an hour? Because it said concentrate!," we would, by default, consider that person an idiot.

"You're stereotyping someone because of their eye color?" we would ask, bewildered. "That's just dumb."

So why doesn't the same theory go for hair color? Personally, I think it has to do with the walls we build to separate and classify ourselves, as if somehow something as simple as the color of our hair can make us different- better, smarter, more fun, whatever- than someone else.

Whoever said you can't buy happiness doesn't know where to go shopping.

Yesterday it seemed a good idea to go shopping. Four shirts, two minidresses, a pair of jeans, and four hours later, I left the mall, satisfied with my findings. As I secured my bags in the passenger seat of my car (I tend to do that when I'm so excited about a new outfit that it may strike me as I drive to seize the bag and pull out an article of clothing so that I may envision myself wearing it, as was the case of an adorbale chiffon dress I found yesterday at Macy's), the question of why I -and most women- find such satisfation out of spending money at the mall came to mind.

It's certainly a stereotype, and while not all women love to shop, for a large percentage shopping is the ultimate relaxation. There's nothing better than a good deal on a cute pair of shoes, a certain friend of mine likes to say. Perhaps this logic is the reason why, despite the fact that women only make 78 cents for every dollar a man makes, they make 80% of buying decisions in all homes. After all, as the saying goes, men buy, and women shop.

I've done a bit of research and considered several opinions on why the former is true. Perhaps women love to shop because it's a basic instinct of anything female to gather. However, this theory seems a little off when put into context, in saying that a woman adds to her closet the same way a bird adds a piece of string to her nest. Another theory is that women shop because it is what they are "programmed" to do, the same way little girls play with Barbies and little boys are given Tonka firetrucks. I don't think this idea is dead-on though, either, considering shopping in general is not as pleasurable as shopping for ourselves. Which brings me to my own theory, all others considered, of why nothing feels as good as seeing a pair of skinny jeans on sale.

I think we love to shop because we cling to the hope that material items will enhance our status and attractiveness. I know it's at least true for me; just the other night I was watching an episode of Rock of Love Bus with Bret Michaels and noticed a scoop-neck tunic that Arkansas firecracker Kelsey was sporting. I need that top, I thought to myself as I studied the sequened neckline. If it looks that good on her, it'll look better on me. And so the first thoughts of my quest at the mall were born.

It doesn't seem too far-fetched to think that the general idea of women at the mall is that if we can find that perfect shade of lipstick (Yves Saint Laurent Rouge Pur Shine in Pink Diamond is my poison) or that adorable curve hugging strapless dress, we will transform into goddesses- men will fall in heaps at our Jimmy Choo adorned feet, our bosses will promote us, our enemies will bite the bullet and be forced to ask where, oh where did you find that chic belt?

The media (and I use that term lightly; I am, after all, a journalism major) has long perpetuated the idea that a woman's success in life is closely tied with her appearance, not to mention the amount of money she spends on that appearance. And so we march down the aisles of Coach, Macy's, and Bloomingdale's, our credit cards out like weapons, certain the next Luis Vuitton bag we purchase will ultimately transform us into beauty queens. It's consumerism. It's relaxation. It's vanity.

And even those things considered don't stop us from selecting that perfect Juicy Coture fragrance, swiping those credit cards,and buying, buying, buying.