The beginning of the end

It's just about that time of the year again. The part where you take a step back and evaluate the meaning of these minutes that have come to fill the spaces in between January and December. I have to admit I kind of considered shooting past this post in attempts of avoiding being too cliche, but in the end decided that there are enough times in my life where I don't sit down to appreciate what I have and where I'm going for fear of being mundane and there's no reason to be ashamed that I follow an established benchmark of progress. So here I sit.

It didn't hit me until the way home just how much has happened this year. I think back to last New Years and Ruby's drunk escapade at Ashley's in Bellingham and I can hardly believe it is the same person let alone year. This year I graduated university, I traveled the Mediterranean, I moved halfway across the world and sidestepped a major life plan for the first time in my life--following a whim that had no other explanation other than it felt right to do. And all along the way I've met amazing people who have helped to open up and own who I am, and who hopefully I have been able to touch in return. Not to mention, I successfully completed my new years resolution of keeping up with this blog. Overall, I feel pretty proud.

But I know I'm far from being over. If there's anything this year, these friends, these loves, these places have taught me is that I am only human and far from being a perfect one. That there is so much work still left for me to be done, and while that is scary and hard and oftentimes too much for me to swallow I know I have to keep on trying. Because there is no one who is going to do it for me and if there is a reason for my unhappiness it is because I'm not fighting for it. Because I haven't taken these moments to step back and value what I have in my life to its fullest extent.

It's been hard this holiday season as I focused a lot on myself and how the season should measure up to my ridiculous expectations, sometimes at the expense of actually feeling Christmastime joy. And now I sit here and think I wish I gave more, I wish I said more. I wish I called more, I wish I loved more, I wish I bought less. But most of all I wish that I had stopped thinking about myself and being away from culture and home and more on how blessed I truly am and owning the decisions I make, realizing home is a place I can take and make wherever I am in the world. Because too often I forget to tell myself how much I love my life. How happy I really am. And it's times like this that I am reminded of the steps still left to be taken in my progress.

I'm so blessed. Truly, I wish I shed more tears over how thankful I was for my health, for my friends, for sustaining health, for my family, for the fact that I can come home to a warm house and people who love me. And I'm thankful for all of the privilege that I don't even realize I have sometimes and take for granted, like being able to travel and gain higher education. Sometimes I feel I need to see those sentences in writing just so I know they are real.

And so I sit here on this last day of the year, writing a post that hasn't decided whether it would rather wear a party hat or an apology draped over its head. And maybe that's what this liminal space of New Years Eve is supposed to be--a mix of the two. A realization of our limitations and faults, and a promise to do better. A spirit of awe and love for what tools we do have to work with, and a plan to continue to progress. And most of all a thankfulness in our heart for all that we have.

But this isn't a place to dwell. This isn't a place to build a home on a foundation of "I wish I" and "What ifs." It's a place for me to sit myself down and be happy. Be healthy. Be loved. Be everything that I already am and have with a full consciousness about it. To try better, to be better. To be actively engaged in living life for the sole purpose of being born into it and trying to make that statement as loud, proud, and full of vitality as possible. This is a place to celebrate what I have done and use that momentum and confidence to make life for me and others around me even better.

So this is my synthesis of this reflection and resolution space: I love who I am. And I love that in a year I will look  back and hopefully still love the person that I am. And I hope that I will always continue to write down these lessons and experiences to remind me of that journey and of the path still left to walk.

Happy New Year, friends.

Warm Christmas Kindergarten Fuzzies

For the past month in my kindergarten classes we have been practicing a simplified version of 'A Christmas Carol' as written by my colleague Alina. These past few weeks have been chill/hectic as we tried to stuff the Christmas spirit into our classrooms and finish these plays so we could send them home as New Year gifts for the parents in little packages. And finally, after a lot of work (mainly on Alinas end), we have finished. Though Christmas has passed I still feel like passing along that Christmastime happiness by sending along our recording of them. They are far from being fluent but they are enthusiastic to learn, which is what really matter at this point. So enjoy!

We also did a santa dance with the kids, the original of which you can see here (dream english guy again). This made my heart sing, too cute!

Hope you all had a Merry Christmas and soon a Happy New Year. Wishing you the best from Istanbul, sendng all my love and well wishes wherever you may be in this big world :)

Poem Collaboration

So its been a while since I last wrote. There are lots of excuses: I broke my laptop, lack of internet access at my house, trying to be more productive--but at the end of the day I still have a new years resolution to keep with this blog. And being so close to my one year successful completion, now is hardly the time for slacking off.

These past few days Hamid and I have been delving into poetry together. I never realized how important it was to share that with a significant other until now, and it is quite an experience. Anyways, with Hamid being more of an oral poet and me being a written poet, we've taken to him speaking poems and me writing them down as closely and fast as I can in his own words. This is Hamid's first time writing english poems so its kind of exciting to hear him put those feelings he has always expressed in persian into a language I can understand without translation. He recently was inspired to write this poem for me (I know, spoiled), after which we went back and read and re wrote and talked about what he wanted it to mean and how to best express that. I've never collaborated on a poem before so it was rather interesting, and I thought, worth sharing. So here it is, without further introduction. I'll be writing quite a bit this next week to get my 4 posts a month quota done before the end of the year, so gear up for a lot Christmas-time Sydney ranting :)
_________________________________

"The First Child"
by Hamid Hoseinzade and Sydney Odell

She talks about her dark places inside
the parts I haven't explored yet, or
maybe the parts that never
come to the surface--
that have never come to daylight.

I look into her blue eyes, deeply
and I can't believe there is any darkness
under that storm after the ocean--
but I can guess that
not every part of her is as white
as that porcelain skin that betrays her.

Sometimes she is so poetic
but sometimes she is like literature.
I can read the inner conflict of war and peace in her,
though I know she prefers peace
to being right.

Bi-sexual, bi-lingual, bigeminal
I can feel the duality in her
which rises from the
antagonistic battle between
our reality and the
adventure she chases down the rabbit hole of her own
inner complexity.

Sometimes I wonder
if she is just bi--
what if she is "multi," if these
two black and white parts of her
are merely the two opposing ends
of her soul's colorful spectrum.

Once I mixed science with emotions
in the container of cynicism,
catalyzed by ego--
the reaction of which
resulted in the birth of logic,
whose eyes are limited in
recognizing wavelengths between
400-700 nanometers.

None of us can see the other waves
we can just feel their polarity--
either as heat
or as a growing tumor inside our body.
I see people as waves too,
some of us overlap--
seeing the visible light,
feeling the invisible darkness...

I always knew that the
villain was merely a
framework for justification
made in the mind of the storyteller.
Sometimes the prince of darkness
can be an illumination for others
when spoken on the tongue of a fallen son's experience.

I wait for the story to
unfold the truth
from the shadowed side of my prism.

Happy Leghsan Thankyou giving

I never realize how much I miss America until it comes to a holiday. I suppose that makes sense, holidays are designed to make you come together with friends and family and are deeply rooted in cultural traditions you all share which can be hard when you are away from both. Nevertheless, its always fun to create new traditions and look back on past years celebrations.

The Three Amigos

This year I wasn't expecting anything special. Thanksgiving isn't really an important holiday to me, and minus the food its been a long time since I was actually formally with family celebrating so it wasn't too bad that I am abroad. So when I got an invite from a fellow American co-worker to come to Thanksgiving dinner with his family, I was kind of mixed in my emotions towards. But always game for a good time, and willing to go to great lengths for free delicious food, I commandeered Hamid and Farhad to come with me. If anything else, introducing them to American tradition would be fun in itself.



I'm kicking my past apathetic self now because last nights festivities were actually really excellent. Went all the way out in the outskirts of Istanbul to their house, but it was beautiful and felt immediately like Little America. Kids running around everywhere, people lounging around making small talk, tables of appetizers and drinks keeping everyone occupied until dinner was served. The christmas tree was even up so you could start thinking into the future about even greater holidays. I was really impressed.

Jizz in my mouth

It was a really international group too. We had people from Armenia, Kazahkstan, Saudi Arabia, Iran, Turkey, the US, England. And all of them had a story to tell about how they ended up in Turkey, which is always the greatest part about meeting people--finding out how they came to be. I talked with this one woman for probably an hour about all the work she does through her church for refugees coming to Turkey from around the middle east and french speaking Africa. Listening to her made me wish I had more working-hour days to do volunteer work like that. Whether it was the flowing wine or the fact that it was genuinely a great group, the conversation flowed naturally and I didn't find myself annoyed really by anyone there.

The face of desire.

Of course the most important part of Thanksgiving is the food, the focal point of the entire day. I didn't realize how much I loved Thanksgiving food until I found myself staring at a table of turkey, sweet potato pie,  pumpkin soup, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, green been casserole--the works. It was absolutely brilliant, very homemade traditional food and lots of it. Hamid's eyes glazed over as he was told he could eat one of the turkey legs, a dream of his for a while. My heart stopped when I bit into the sweet potato pie. We loaded our plates several times, forgetting the table of desserts still left to be eaten. And then it came time for dessert and no one was ready to slow down piling food on their plates.

Pecan Pie!

I'm a big sweet tooth person--its the taste I crave most in the world, so I was over the moon when I saw the multiple pumpkin pies awaiting to become one with my mouth. Then Sindhuja brought out her apple crisp and I thought I had never put something so delicious in my mouth. But all of that amounted to nothing when I bit into the sweet, sweet pecan pie. Hamid and Farhad were instantly in love, shocked that they had finally found a nut they couldn't in Iran. With a dollop of fresh whipped cream on the side, it was absolute bliss. My head started to ring from a sugar coma after eating all those pies, but the degree of happiness I obtained made it so worth it. I have a feeling I will be baking a lot more of it this Christmas season so I can continue to make the boys sufficiently fat. It's the least I can do as an American, I feel it's my duty.

Anyways, after we ate the children put together a little performance in a stereotypical adolescent way. Lots of dancing crazy and cartwheels, craving the attention and thrill of being watched and loved. They also sang a nice little Christmas song which put me right in the mood to come home and set up the Christmas tree today.

He couldn't get enough of her

One of the kids in particular, little 1 year Ailyn (my co-workers youngest daughter), caught Hamid's attention right away. The littlest, whitest, most aryan thing you've ever seen--she spent the entire night going and stealing food from everyone's plates while looking straight into their eyes as if to say "what are you going to do about it? I'm adorable, you can't stop me." Hamid told me repeatedly through out the evening that he was going to steal the little girl and bring her home, his baby fever was raging so bad. Blonde girls--just breaking middle eastern hearts everywhere :P

Fat on food and wine, people started to trickle out around 10 so they could be safely in their beds when the food coma hit. Being an hour and a half journey back to the house from Florya, I'm glad we left when we did--otherwise you might have had to carry my ass home. My very fat Thanksgiving ass. But we arrived safely, still running on the high of celebrating a great American holiday without the after-thought of genocide. Overall, a great night. Happy to be in Istanbul, but I love being reminded of the things I love about my country. Something I forget all too often.

So Happy Thanksgiving everyone, wherever you are

Goodbye, pride.

So there are days when I love my job. Kids are well behaved, they are receptive to new phrases and vocab, they come up and hug me and are super sweet. And it's days like this that make me go to great lengths to actually help them to learn English, even if it means putting my own dignity on the line.

A little bit of background. For the past few weeks Alina and I have been teaching kids phrases surrounding morning routines (I brush my teeth, I get dressed...etc). And lucky for us we had a song from Dream English that helped the kids to memorize the phrases. However now, moving onto a new book with new phrases revolving around schoool activities we don't have such a song to help them learn, which we decided to remedy by making our own.

If there is ever a time where I asked people to be jealous and gentle with my feelings, this would be the time. This video is ridiculous, on so many levels. You should see the amount of outtakes we have as we tried to take ourselves seriously while singing the song. We realize this is not the next biggest hit, but we did have a lot of fun experimenting with how to continue to make learning fun for kids. So this is an exploration of that dedication we have to the kids at the expense of our ego so we could use the same song for continuity. Be kind, but also feel free to laugh your ass off.

To understand our version though, you first have to watch the original we copied it from. Also please try and ignore the fact that this man looks like his number #1 hobby is touching children. I don't say this because he is a man who enjoys working with small children. Actually, that's what draws me to his songs because I think all too often male roles in early childhood education are invisible or have a negative stereotype. But I do just feel sometimes that he is awkward and creepy in his delivery, and trying to work past that. Regardless, please just overlook this tangent and appreciate the catchy tune.

Now, you are ready for our version.  Please keep in mind that all credit for idea, filming, and editing goes to my lovely colleague Alina Gui. I am merely a willing puppet :) Now, let the embarrassment begin!

6 life lessons I learned on the road

Takes finally settling into a place and deciding to make it home to realize how grateful you are for the lessons you learned along the way. Just some observations on living the adventurous life.

1. There is always a Plan B

And no, I'm not talking about emergency contraception (although really, I wish that statement were true internationally). Traveling requires a lot of effort. Well, not always, but to a certain extent you're looking for a little bit of spontaneity and a little bit of stability (unless you are Ashley Hogrebe who lives a spontaneous adventurous life to a whole new level). But as all things in life, rarely do things turn out like you expect. Whether its your hostel shutting down in Crete, or gypsies stealing your purse in Amsterdam, or locking yourself out of your apartment in Paris at 1 a.m--shit doesn't always go according to plan. And while I used to freak out in my OCD mindset back in high school if things didn't happen right the first time, traveling has almost taught me to automatically assume plan A is faulty. I have learned the art of adapting quickly and being able to pick myself up and get things done. I have learned how to be prepared and how to trust people to help me when I have no clue what I'm doing or where I am. Most of all, traveling has converted me from a flight to a fighter mentality--it's given me confidence in myself to be able to stand up and think logically to fulfill my basic needs. A quick condensed crash course in adult shite.

2. Your body is capable of so much more than you think it is

This sounds like some annoying thinspiration quote, but really. Being born into a first world country of excess, I am often of a privileged mindset where I don't realize how much I indulge myself. Whether it's driving a half mile down the road to the gym, or thinking I need to have seconds in order to really feel "full"--it's only when I start traveling that I really move past this and start learning about my body and its limits. I've now learned how long your body can survive on a baguette and still take you around a city. I've come to find that my body is capable of walking and hiking and exploring for 10 hours a day when conserved resources cuts out public transport as an option. I've learned there are many different ways you can feed your body, spirit, and mind. Sometimes it takes stepping out of comfortable norms and excess, getting down into the bare bones to really appreciate the simplicity.

3. It's not actually that difficult to make new friends

It's really not that difficult, especially when you travel. There is always that bunk mate at the hostel, or that fellow American in the tour group, or that englishman at the pub that you meet and immediately call friend-dibs on for the rest of your trip. In normal circumstances, it would seem like a very needy friendship but as neither of you has company while traveling--you immediately jump in to fill that need. Tied at the hip exploring, they might not be the people you would chose to hang out with at home, but that's not why you came to travel is it? 90% of the people I've met in the places I've visited I still have some type of contact with--a big perk of traveling when you think each new friend is a new potential trip to visit. Plus its a great way of meeting other like-minded people and practicing social skills in different settings with different kinds of personalities.

4. Get your nose out of that travel book

Don't get me wrong, know why you are going to a place. Have a plan, have some important "don't miss" points, but I think a trip is too often spoiled when you make a list of things you have to see and try to relive someone else's experience rather than exploring for yourself. I hate going to a place and seeing the same type of tourist with their face buried in their Rick Steves literature to really look around and just take that side street that looks interesting. Obviously you are going to see the Acropolis, but would you have found that delicious frozen greek yogurt if you hadn't let yourself wander? Maybe not. All I'm saying is let things happen, figure it out along the way. Ask people in your hostel, walk around and decide what you want to do when you're there and in the right mood. Not having a plan is a lot less scary than you think it is.

5. You're never so popular as when you're on the road

Seriously though, if you've ever thought "oh, no one loves me. I'm all aloneeee WAHHHH"---go travel. All of those cliches you've heard about distance making the heart grow fonder and not missing what you had until its gone, they are completely and one hundred percent true. Everyone wants to be your best friend when you're traveling. You are their vicarious adventure, you are their dream they wish they had the courage to act out. I don't say this to mean that you are obviously the shit because you travel, but the fact remains that friends and family do notice you a lot more. So enjoy the ego boost a bit.

6. There are pros and cons to traveling alone

I've traveled in several different ways. In an organized group, in a disorganized group, with friends, and alone and there's honestly something to be said for all of these different options. But I've actually done the majority of my traveling alone, which I love for a lot of reasons. One, people are full of excuses. If I were to wait around for someone to join me, I might not have seen half of the places I've seen. Two: I like myself. That sounds dumb, but it's true. I genuinely love spending time by myself--so to me there isn't anything weird about walking around a city alone in my thoughts and experiences. And three: You can do whatever you want. There really is so much freedom in traveling alone. Want to eat at this really cheap doner place? No need to consult. Want to go for a day trip to Ibiza? Book the trip! Don't feel like paying to go into some pretentious famous museum? Don't worry about it! There's no one you have to answer to or accommodate for, you can plan your trip as you want. Conversely, there are a couple of downsides. One: you get lonely. As much as I love myself, there are definitely some times where I just want...someone to share it with. Whether its a romantic sunset or some cool street performance I would like to reference in an inside joke someday--its nice to be able to be with a friend. Two: it's cheaper. Hotels, sharing food, sharing clothes. And for a penny pincher like me, that's important. And three: there is always someone to have your back. When sketch situations arise (ahem, Barcelona), they are there to hopefully help you (if they are a true friend). You have to take on extra precautions when you travel alone, so its nice to be able to let your guard down a little more knowing someone else is with you. It really depends on your mood and personality, as well as what kind of trip you are looking for but there are things to be said for taking life by the horns and diving into an adventure by yourself.

Trains

I remember the way you told me about the first time
Death kicked down your door without an invitation,
expecting more than a honey bribe to pass on by.

the way how the moon seemed dimmer and

how your hands felt smaller and the wind felt thicker so that every time the angels tried to

bury your hands in gifts they just came up empty.

The way the salty rivers running down your cheeks

could never quite capture the overwhelming essence of your sea-heart,

but how one day you were going to use them to sail right into that golden orb

and demand its jewels to for one more fleeting moment with those you loved.

I remember the way you said bullets move faster than prayers,

the way you said praying to each other was

more powerful than praying to the one we had made out of clay
and so we spent all night

creating new angels out of  sounds we heard the faucet make

as it methodically dripped in our bathroom sink,

our synchronized heart beats

washing away the existence of a paradise lost.
This is our truth.

Trains never come on time,
someone should have told you that.

Let the Good Times Roll

Arabic Food Gatherings in Zeytinburnu with friends

I used to be really good at keeping a journal, especially the first time I came to Istanbul three years ago. I don't know, in some ways I think they are really great and in some ways I find them rather tedious. I always get this quote in my head whenever I sit down to write, a quote by Thoreau I believe, that goes something along the lines of "my life would have been the book I would have written but I could not both write and live it." And even so, I find myself reliving experiences through keeping these recordings of adventures--adding new meaning and learning new lessons from past memories. Anyways, this is my long way of saying I want to write more about the real day-to-day stuff.

So this past weekend has been pretty great, work has been settling into a nice routine lately, getting out and meeting up with new and old friends is always a pleasure, and I find myself understanding more and more of this crazy language that surrounds me--even if I can still only mainly respond with "tam am," "evet," and a welcoming smile (but mainly just english...fail).

So adorable!

This weekend in particular has been pretty fantastic as well, as weekends always are. Friday we had a really nice, albeit stressful and hectic Halloween party at work for the kids. While Turkish people dont actually celebrate Halloween persae, like most international cities you kind of just adopt any excuse to drink and make bad decisions. Oh yeah, and dress up to pretend to be more badass than you actually are. But the party was good, kids mainly just dancing around crazy and stuffing their mouths with delicious homemade turkish treats their parents sent them to school with.

Afterwards I set out to go and hang with my friends Farhad, Yalin, and Boo Friend for a relaxing chilled out evening up in the empire state. Basically just consisted of us taking communal short naps together and pigging out on delicious leftovers from my work party, but hey. Not every night can be out at da club. And besides, as previously noted I am an old woman now so this is about as rowdy as it gets most nights for me.

Woke up next morning and vegged about the house, dicking around on the internet and killing time until the Anathema concert. If you've never heard of Anathema before, don't worry. Before two months ago neither had I, but they are Boo Friend's favorite band and so being an awesome girlfriend I decide to check them out. I haven't really been to a concert in...2 years I think it was? So regardless of the band, I was desperately in need of some live music. Plus the ticket wasn't that expensive. The only thing I would have changed about the concert was that it was 7098765434567898765456789 degrees. But I suppose thats what you get for throwing a concert in an underground garage.

While rock and metal isn't necessarily my genre, I will admit the band was pretty talented. I think it was ten times more enjoyable as well because it was an acoustic concert--one of the downsides I always find at concerts with full bands is that they are just so damn loud. I really love listening to the vocals, and I know artists spend a lot of time writing them so It upsets me when the musicians drown out the lyrics. Anywho, I digress. Anathema is a good band, you should check them out here.

Hamid and Vincent. Bromance

After the concert we waited around because Boo Friend wanted to do another interview with one of the band members. Last year when they were here he did an interview with Danny, one of the guitarists, which was pretty cool and so he wanted to follow up with the other 2 band members. We waited around for quite a while to the point where I didn't think we were going to be able to do the interview when finally we were ushered inside to meet with the other guitarist, Vincent. Hamid was absolutely beside himself, like a 5 year old being taken into a candy shop--I just couldnt even contain my laughter sometimes. So he interviewed Vincent, a pretty good interview (and interviewer I should say, I couldn't do that in my third language...if I knew one) and we were on our way to DoRock, Farhad's favourite rock bar in Istanbul. How was it you are asking? Is that what you're asking? Im sorry, what? What? SPEAK UP I AM NOW DEAF. But for realz, it was alright. Sat around for a while resting our legs from standing for the whole concert and then headed back to the house. Overall, a pretty fantastic night.


And then today was exactly how a Sunday should be--lazy, overcast, with delicious food and warm hot beverages. While I'm not exactly thrilled that the weekend is over, I can't say I'm altogether depressed about  my job either. Its a pretty good life I have here, feels more and more like home every day and I'm just grateful for weekends like this that remind me that despite temporary shitty parts I am happy.

It's a good time to be alive everybody.

Momma

I want it to be plain--
plainer than that
pink sleeveless dress you insisted on
wearing every day last week
even though that boy in your class said it
made you look fat.

What does he know of fat?

I want it to be so simple
that when you bite into it like that
ordinary vanilla ice cream cone
we bought last Thursday at the Thrifty's down the road--
that the taste of it on your mouth sends shivers down your tiny little spine
exploding into a dance of sugar-induced happiness.

I want it to be like that.

So lets state it as fact.
There are not words to describe your place in my life
but you're so smart-you don't even try to explain.
Instead, you draw me pictures. Our dresses echoing the colors of the rainbow
our bright yellow umbrella hairs standing straight out like chinaman hats
we saw that one time in that cartoon,
your tiny hands wrapped in mine like little sausages
I could just bite off and eat
if they weren't constantly wrapped around my neck--
lopsided imperfect hearts falling all around us like rain.

One day you'll understand how
looking at you makes me want to buy a white van
and spray LOST KITTEN on the side
driving through your neighborhood with my windows rolled down
and a "free candy" melody blasting from my loudspeakers

How holding you makes me want to go back to school and be an engineer
who can design new ways to create beds that are shaped like my arms
when you finally fall asleep after insisting we read
'The Hungry Caterpillar'
three times in a row, even after we've read 'The Lorax'
four times over because evens make better sense
in my CDO world.

One day you'll understand how
loving you makes everything else so clear
--like a telescope focusing in on the reasons why
dying doesn't seem so scary anymore.
why living no longer feels pointless,
how earning a wage moves from paying the rent
to paying whatever gods may be
each day they let you run into my arms once more
when I walk through those doors at your afterschool day care.

I hope that one day you'll remember
even through all the "i hate you's"
through all the "you ruin my life's"
even when you write poems about
how deeply troubled your childhood was.
I want you to know that I tried,
that there were a lot of things you may have never gotten
but if there was anyone who ever wanted to 'get you' more it was me--
and you were never in want of love.

I need you to know that.

And I never meant to live my life as an 'I told you so'
but I pray that the day you finally look into the mirror that is your
true self and see your little girl
running through the grass so wild and free
you will know what salvation means
and it will open up a place in your heart called home
where I have always been.

The Things I Couldn't Tell You

I didn't want you to cringe
when I reached for the sixth straight time in a row at that dinner party
to push your hair back once more to
prove to others that the lighthouse in your eyes
was real. That the beacon of light that spoke to me
across the tides of my own insecurity came back
solid and sure, grounding me to a shore
called home I had never quite come to reach yet.
İ didn't mean to make you inkeeper.

It didn't come to me then, forgive me
If I had known, I could have whispered to you the way
your body felt against mine in those last few moments before the alarm woke me up
from the dream i felt against your back, holding in every bit of utensil
we had become in the night--to fight
those heavy lids once more in the hopes of being the one to slip away first.
What words are there for this?

You tell me that
no one told us how to enjoy the laughter of strangers,
yet I find myself caught in a perpetual smile--doubled over, hands clutched desperately to my stomach
as if it held the secrets to why my throat fills with stones every time I smell your perfume
on my pillow at night, as if holding on to the tightrope of my life
could help restore some internal balance I feel as I fall
further and further into your magicians spell,
hands first--reaching into the dark for the parts of me
I am reminded are missing by the way you come in to fill them.

Lets not speak of this in the future, to hear those words
might make it less true--might act as a thief in the night whose light footsteps
make heavy pain for morning waking. I'd rather
drown in the way your sweat falls like honey
after we make love--heavy breathing creating a symphony of poems
for which there is no dictionary. For which there is no land.
To which there is no microphone, just the small sweet reassurance that
when I close my eyes
and tilt back my head expectantly
to feel the autumn rain
a small part of me
will be reminded of the things I couldn't tell you
because I didn't have to.

And it will be enough.

Yo, Iran. It's America. Let Me Holla at You...

"How does world peace by Christmas sound?"

So there's been a lot of buzz in the news lately about Iran and the US finally sitting down to talk and settle some deep seated animosity and cynicism. If you haven't gone and watched the UN General Assembly talks directly you can watch them here and here and get a feel for yourself exactly why people are freaking out (though my boyfriend insists the Persian translation doesn't quite do his words justice...plus the interpreter is completely monotone robotic which doesn't help). Anyways, it's kind of a big deal. We're kind of on speaking terms now, bro.

That's right--Obama called Rouhani, and plans are now being made to try and settle the nuclear weapons issue that's gutting Iran by heavy sanctions and polarizing the two countries in the next 3-6 months. And while I kind of agree with a lot of people that 6 months is a rather short time frame to reconcile years of hatred and injustice on both sides, I would say that with an open mind and willing disposition it at least hopefully won't take another 40 years to reverse. The groundwork is being laid--and despite Israel's skepticism, I remain optimistic.

As Hamid and I sat side by side last week watching as our Presidents' gave their speeches to the General Assembly, it was a weird mix of emotions--shame, pride, hope. I was desperately trying to reflect on all that I had been taught both explicit and implicitly about Iran and gage it against the reactions I saw in his face as he watched his people being framed through the lens of the red, white, and blue. And I could feel his eagerness when Rouhani stood up and talked about the way my countrymen had been treating his homeland through the past several decades and how much he wanted to prove his people's desire for lasting peace. We were anxiously nervous and stubbornly positive that the timing was right to start moving forward as cooperative nations. Though despite these mixed feelings at coming from enemy countries, the first thing we both said when we sat back after watching the speeches was "well...if we can do it, they can do it."

Anyone else get warm fuzzies at this smile?

Yes, I'm biased. Dating an Iranian has completely opened up my eyes to this hostile relationship and the desire for change a lot of Iranians have in putting an end to a repressive government that doesn't reflect their views and desires to interact with the West--especially America. And every day Hamid is helping me to realize that there are actually a lot of progressive and level headed Iranians sitting on the sidelines with clenched teeth and crossed fingers hoping these peaceful talks come to fruition--that it's not the "us" and "them" game our government's like to sometimes frame it as.  That there are are actually a huge amount of Iranian supporters who far drown out the angry protesters at Rouhani opening up a line of dialogue with the US ,an avenue which has been closed for 34 years. Not to mention the many people who sit on the fence between these two cultures as Iranian-Americans who feel particularly invested in reconciling these two politically warring parts of their identity. And then you have Americans who don't want to be international bullies anymore in the Middle East and are pushing our government to mend those relationships and are trying to create new narratives about this strange political "other". And I guess being with Hamid has helped to elevate that level of optimism and awareness about just how many people are wishing this peace-process well on both sides.Which is kind of cool.

So here's to hoping for the best and trying the bottom-up approach.

'murica, out.

First Sight That Took My Breath Away

So I promised I would do a "first" post on the first of each month from now on, which of course means I would be late the first time. Go figure.

On facebook I asked you what you wanted to know, and while I applaud your suggestions of "first time you realized JGL was your soulmate" and "first time you had to poop in public without a bathroom"--I decided since it was a 3-way tie to go with Ingrid's suggestion of "the first time I saw a sight that literally took my breath away."

As I sit here thinking about different experiences I've had, ones that have awed and humbled me to my core, I can't help but think there is a huge "site" and "sight" difference in which story to tell. While there are many I could chose from as far as "sites" in my travels--I think I'd rather talk about the first time, or one of the most memorable times in my life, that I remember actually seeing something for the first time that really solidified a concept for me. I hope this is what you were talking about with your suggestion, Ingrid.

It was my senior year in high school and I was busy trying to shape myself into the perfect university candidate--community college classes, two jobs, early morning church school, sports, violin, some type of social life--essentially a very busy person who, despite a loving heart sometimes got a little self centered (as most teenagers do). I remember it was the day after Christmas and I was supposed to work at Sylvan Learning Center, a shift I was hardly looking forward to with my lazy two-week break searing itself into my work ethic. Lucky for me, God must have loved me (early morning seminary...he should have) because it turns out Sylvan was closed and my shift was cancelled. Thrilled that I could go home and spend another day lazing about admiring my new gifts in a warm and loving home, I was driving back down Martin Way when I saw a man standing on the corner of the intersection begging for money.

Now I'm not a cynical person, as many are when it comes to giving strangers money. I believe there really are a lot of systemic and personal issues that affect a persons morale and physical capability of working and providing for themselves rather than it being lazy people just looking for a handout. I believe this is even more true when you see people out in the extreme heat/rain/snow as I don't know any decent wage earning person who is dedicated enough to put up with the elements. Since it was boxing day and thus freezing, it was one of those days and seasons where I was feeling especially generous (especially in light of my cancelled shift) so I turned into Safeway and got him a hot chocolate and a muffin. Giving homeless people tangible stuff like this always makes me feel better as well--the argument that they could use it for crack or whatnot becomes immediately invalid. Plus I love to feed people.

So I pull into the gas station this guy is standing in front of and I get out of the car to go to give him his hot chocolate and muffin. I'm not expecting a long exchange, just a "thank you" or a "merry Christmas" or in the worst case scenario a crazy-person look that sends me running back to my car in which case I now have hot chocolate and a muffin to console me. I hand the man his hot chocolate and muffin and wish him a merry Christmas, throwing in a smile for good measure--- and this man just starts sobbing. He's absolutely lost it, starts telling me about how he lost his job and the family he has to provide for and how hard it is making it feel like christmas with no money. Not expecting this flood of emotion, I'm not quite sure how to react except to move in closer so he can feel my humanity/awkward attempt at trying to console him. He ends up balling on my shoulder for like 5 minutes, not really saying much just letting it all out--all of his stress, all of his disappointments, but also all of his gratitude. And I'm standing there feeling like I just got the best Christmas present you could have asked for. Part of me wishes I could have gone back and done more for that man--helped his family in some way, but I know that at least for a moment I helped him to feel some small release from the pressure of his life and he helped me to get outside of myself and realize just how blessed I was.

That memory sticks out to me whenever I see a homeless person nowadays and I think about the circumstances which brought them there. Granted there are going to be people who go on corners and pull off great scams faking to be more poor than they actually are--but honestly at the end of the day that's not for me to decide. I'm not going to sit there and say I'm justified in not helping another fellow human being who is literally begging for a friend, in saying that they don't deserve basic human rights because they aren't "working hard enough." Whether or not you are religious there is a call to serve and help others when we can.

So I guess that was a moment that really took my breath away. Seeing that man completely break down and show me his vulnerability as a result of me trusting in his personhood and being willing to see him as a fellow person with needs and wants and failures. I don't share this particular story to be self aggrandizing--since then I've sadly passed up my fair share of homeless people by looking the other way and speeding past those street corners. But I'm trying, and I'd like to think that the moment his story came flooding out onto my shoulder was a sight that really took my breath away and made me sit back and want to help people. Made me realize that even small acts make a difference--and that strangers aren't so strange when you choose to see and treat them as friends.

The 10 Best (and Worst) Thiıngs About Living in Istanbul

This upcomıng Tuesday I wıill officially celebrate my one month anniversary of moving here to Istanbul, and man has it been a crazy month! But rather than try and make a long lengthy post about my adventures thus far, I've decided I would much rather take the time to tell you about what I love (and hate) about this new city I call home.

I wish I saw it this up close :(

1. Get to see old historic sites every day on the way to work (+)

I still can't believe that every day I get to pass by the old city of Istanbul and see history alive in front of my eyes. Maybe its because I'm from america that I still live in awe that people live alongside century old walls and near incredibly important historical monuments and don't seem to give it a second thought. Needless to say, I love being able to see gorgeous scenic views like the Hagia Sofia on my way to work, though I really think Istanbul is full of beautiful views with all of its rolling hills.  Istanbul is such a beautiful rich city, and I'm glad to be a part of this next legacy of Istanbul

2. Lack of communication (-)

This downside could honestly merit its own entire blog post, but as each day moves on I begin giving less and less fucks about the disorganized way things work here I begin to forget just how frustrating it is which is why I have settled on a paragraph. I thought it was hard to get answers when I was living in laid-back Hawaii, but Istanbul makes them look like Germans in comparison! The main experiences I have stem from my new school and beginning to teach here at Kent State/Avrupa Koleji' but sometimes I experience it elsewhere. One of the people at the agency I got hired for always uses the phrase 'nothing is set in stone here until its in the past tense, and even then things change' to describe the way Istanbul operates. Its so ridiculous sometimes--from the lack of answers the school administration has concerning curriculum to the way they organize carpooling and all the unnecessary red tape and ass kissing to get proper help and support as a foreigner. Obviously there is the language barrier factor that I totally acknowledge, but even so. The lack of preparation and clear procedure for things is unparalleled to any place I have ever lived before. And people are ok with having close to no answers and finding out last minute and adapting--which is definitely something I am continuously learning to adapt to.

Zincirlikuyu metrobus stop. E'ery day!

3. Heat/sweat (-)

Look, this is a simple one. Istanbul is ın the Middle East, ergo it is supremely effing unpleasant in the warm summer/beginning of fall months. Words cannot describe how much sweat drips from your body as you try to navigate the public transportation system crammed into small cars with     other warm-bodied people. There was one night we were going out to Taksim to visit friends after a football match had just ended and everyone was trying to get home...horror. Complete horror. Windows completely fogs up, smell of beer and sweat and righteous victory in the air, your hands awkwardly reaching for anything to hold onto so when the metro lurches forward from the crazy incompetent driver you don't move from molestation to full on rape of the people on all sides of you. Needless to say, this factor alone is a great motivating factor for becoming nocturnal.

4. Hills (+/-)

So this one is a mixed bag, because hills are both great for creating breathtaking views but they are still fucking hills that must be climbed up, and with my fat ass that is quite a thing to ask me to do all the time. I still remember the last time I was here back in May with Brandon and every day when we would come back to Burak's place--a home with a gorgeous view but the most steep and horrible hill. To this day I still think twice about visiting Burak as a friend JUST so that I don't have to climb that hill. It's that real. But then you also have beautiful places like Camlica where you can take in romantic views of Istanbul, but with a price. All I can say is I expect a perfect ass in this next year of living here and walking up and down all these hills.

Mmmm...Iskender :O

5. Food (+)

Basically Turkish food is the best, and as someone who lived in France I can definitely say that there is some real competition over here in Istanbul. Whether it's pide or döner, iskender or balık ekmek, köfte or baklava--this country knows how to send you to bed fat and happy (and for pretty cheap too). My favorite dish is anything having to do with turkish eggplant that has been soaking in spices and delicious olıive oil with a side of pilav and some nicely prepared green bean side dish. But even if you're not eating somewhere fancy, there are still delicious things to try--like the many oyster carts dotted around the city allowing you to slurp a few freshly opened lemon juıce splashed delights that make for great drunk food (I know, I was hesitant at first as well). All in all, though I miss the culinary melting pot that America truly is, I feel that I am just as spoiled here.

6. Night Life (+)

If you didn't read about my amazing experience at a turkish gay bar back in May, then you obviously are out having a life and I applaud you. But seriously, when it comes to going out on the town in Istanbul there are so many cool areas and bars and little nargile cafes to hit up that I feel it could take a lifetime to truly feel satisfied. Just the other night Farhad and I went to another cool random bar in Taksim that I wouldn't have found on my own and Hamid took me to this cool Karga Bar in Kadikoy--each one with a different vibe to set up a whole new adventurous evening. I'm excited to be back in a city and hopefully convince myself to go out and be more social so I can take advantage of all of this great night life.

Not this year!

7. Electronics (-)

If you are a technophile living on a budget, don't come to Istanbul looking to make good on the amazing exchange rate. Electronics are RIDICULOUSLY priced here, the latest iphone 5 running for something around 1,000 USD (2,000). And that's just for the phone. After doing some simple research that is about 200 dollars less than it would cost to fly roundtrip from Seattle to Istanbul for Christmas (hint hint, nudge nudge). And the craziest thing though is that people still buy it. Ballin on a budget over here until I get paid, I just can't imagine having the same enthusiasm for a new ipod if I knew it was going to cost me twice my rent payment. Case and point: stock up before you come. Or encourage friends to come and visit and deliver :)

8. Facial Hair (+)

So yeah, ME men are kinda hairy, and 5 o'clock shadow isn't so much in 'vogue' as it is a fact of life. And why shouldn't it be? These men are pre-hipster moustache fad, and as such are obviously leagues ahead of everyone else on owning its sexiness. So forget Saudi, this is my Mecca.

Love meeee!!!!

9. Cats (+)

One of the best perks of living in Istanbul as a cat lover is that you are never quıite alone. I'm not joking when I say I have never seen so many wild cats in my life--they are everywhere, on the streets, in the parks--and they come in hoards. While some are thin and sad looking, many times people come and leave food and water for them to continue on their path to total lazy happiness so they are fat happy cats of all ages lounging around enjoyıng the middle eastern sunshine. In previous times when I came to Istanbul I used to think it was just Boazici University which claimed itself as a feline paradise, but after moving here to Pangalti I see that is far from being the case. And luckily for me I now live right around the corner from what I like to call Kitten Park--a beautifully shaded park in the middle of the hustle and bustle of Osmanbey where cats come from far and wide to be admired. It is siımply impossible not to go to this park and immediately have your heart explode with joy as you watch baby kittens frolick with one another in the grass, marvel at the aerodynamics of older cats as they jump down from their naps up in the trees, and be accosted by every single one looking for a free pet. The amount of free cat love ın Istanbul just makes this city that much more diviıne.

10. People (+)

So I feel so cliche saying this, but I really think that Turkish people are pretty nice. Don't get me wrong, there are definitely a lot of stuck up rude people--that goes with any country/big city, but I still get good vibes from the Turks as honest and good people. For example, just the other day I went to the atm to get out some money but ended up cancelling the request because there was an atm fee, or so I thought. As I was halfway down the street however someone came running after me waving 100 TL in their hand to give me the money I had left in the slot. Now maybe I'm just cynical, but I feel like that's not something that happens all the time in 'murica. That's just one recent example, but obviously the overwhelming generosity of all of the host families who took care of me in past visits add up to a great perception of turkish hospitality.

When I'll know I've made it

I think I'll know I've made it
when i've become a republican
when i have found god
when i have adopted one of those african poster children
to hang up on my fridge as a prideful trophy to my humanitarianism.
When I can explain the difference between who and whom.

I think I'll know
when I can sit down in a restaurant and order anything that looks delicious
when i can take a shower every day without regards for
shampoo and conditioner rations
when the 1st and the 15th of each month
become just days on a calendar
when friends birthdays
no, not friends--acquaintances
pop up in my fb notifications
and i can order them that starbucks gift card because
what the hell, everyone deserves a pat on the back for being born.

I think I'll know
when sick days become "sick days"
when i can finally start paying for porn
or movies, or music, or wifi
when my BMI is higher than my credit card score
and i stop getting back all my taxes on April 15th
when i don't have to air my dirty laundry walking across the street
every sunday afternoon, a chorus of quarters
serenading me in my pocket and
I can look my future children in the face
and tell them I'll still pay for that private liberal arts college because
I support their creative talents.

I think I'll know
when i come back relaxed after the 2nd, or 3rd, or 4th Christmas vacation
to beautifully exotic locations
when i can fill my tank to the top on holiday weekends
or any week day for that matter
when i can look free food in the face
after skipping political science to crash that 4th straight pizza party biology grad lecture
and walk away with some degree of dignity.
When I can delete my ex's number without any type of hesitation.

I want to know that I'll know
I want to know that I'll grow-- tangible proof
that I'll be able to learn
and to see

so this is
to years of living on ramen
to years of shopping at goodwill
and scouring the ads in freecycle
to years of finding myself in the wrong beds
if only to have one for the night
to years of self-inflicted abuse
to years of saying yes when i wanted to say no
to years of drinking shitty carla rossi
to years of drinking shitty four locos, for the matter
and anything else to numb the pain away
of years of socioeconomic bullemia

and this
is to to years of wining and dining my own stubborn will
so my mother wouldn't have to sign a check and
for the day when I won't look back
because my life is moving forward
and I'll know it.

A New Chapter

I have officially made the biggest decision of my adult life this far by moving to Istanbul this year. It's really kind of the first time that I've kind of gone off the planned track to do something for me, and it's both extremely exhilarating and completely nerve racking.

I meant to blog about my memories traveling around the US to visit friends before coming to Istanbul, but at the end of the day I just felt like too much had stacked up and I didn't want a long recap. Needless to say, it was a nice bon voyage to the United States--made me actually feel some love and loyalty for my country being able to see the variance across different states/coasts. And being able to catch up with old friends is always the best part of traveling--I was very blessed to be so spoiled by their hospitality and love.

You give up on life in the hot NYC metro

But after two weeks of travel, I was honestly ready to settle down. I kind of feel like I didn't put enough space in between my Mediterranean trip in May and then US trip in August to super enjoy being on the road again. I blame it on that, but I also blame it on the fact that I can feel myself becoming an old crotchedy woman. And so with some apprehension, but mainly a lot of exhaustion I caught my plane to Istanbul to start my life over as a kindergarten english teacher. With two layovers, it wasn't the most pleasant plane ride I've experienced--but it was cheap, and that's all that matters.

When I arrived in the airport terminal, went through customs, and picked up my bags I went to the location where I was supposed to meet the agency I was hired through who was picking me up. In a typical laid-back polychronic cultural fashion, they arrived 2 hours late and then made me wait another hour to connect with another person who had just flown in. Thinking that was the worst that happened, I then found out to my dismay that instead of driving us to our hostels/friends houses they were taking us straight to the office to sign paperwork. That lasted for about 4 hours, in which my school was switched yet again and I was asked to skype interview with my future employer after not sleeping for almost 48 hours and looking like shit with all my traveling. I wasn't the happiest camper, but at the end of the day it was what it was. At least this new school gave me the following day off of training so I could sleep in, so that was a bonus. Overall though, I was just happy to be here and wanted to settle in.

Went straight from the office to my Iranian friends Hamid and Farhad's house out here in Seyrantepe on the European side of Istanbul. Passed out presents, played with their brand new kitten, and enjoyed the great company catching up. The next day we lounged about the house and took it easy before heading back to the office (where I had stupidly left my purse) and hanging around the Şişli business area of Istanbul where I picked up a sim card and istanbulkart for public transport. On the way back we picked up some food so we could be fat, lazy, and happy with a movie night. I got to make some of my famous family popcorn, which the boys loved and I was happy to introduce them to (also introduced them to cheez its). Gorging ourselves on snacks and Pirates of the Carribbean we had a properly relaxed evening.

Getting my arts and crafts on

The next day was my first day of orientation at my new school in Acibadem (pronounced ah-ji-bah-dem) which is actually on the asian side, so I got to go between two different continents just to get to work. After typically getting lost on the way to the school, I finally arrived and got to know some of my fellow teachers. I'm the only first-year teacher this year, everyone else has a year or more of experience, so that is always a little daunting. We didn't do much that first day, just cut out things to decorate our classrooms, which was a little weird considering that the school isn't even done being built yet and we don't have all of our books. Personally, that would be on my priority list. But the part of the school that is finished being built if beautiful and classy, so I'm excited that I'll be able to work in this brand new kind of environment. The rest will hopefully work itself out next week.

That night I went to visit my turkish friend Burakhan and his family who I stayed with last time I was in Istanbul. They're like my second family over here, so nice and hospitable despite the fact that I speak little turkish and they speak little english so it's mainly a lot of smiling and miming. That night I got to indulge in some delicious homemade cooking from anne, which only solidified my desire to be a turkish housewife. The food is SO delicious, you don't even know.

The next day I went to training but it was in our sister campus in Çekmeköy. Luckily we had a service bus come and pick us up from Acibadem so we didn't have to find a way to get to that campus in the middle of no where. Got there, sat around for a while waiting for our lecturer/boss to come, and then were taught about lesson planning in the format they want us to fill it out. Considering my lack of experience, I was glad they went over this as it was the thing I was most worried about. After that we went back to our campus in Acibadem and continued to cut out things to decorate our rooms.

Never have I ever...

Since it was now officially the weekend and I could catch up socializing/sleeping Hamid invited some mutual friends over for a nice dinner party in which he cooked us delicious Iranian food. Luckily for me, everyone was fine with conducting the night in mainly english, so we were able to have some good laughs and conversation. After dinner we sat around playing a "Never have I ever" drinking game and laughing over each other's confessions. Around 11pm the rest of the party wanted to go out to Taksim to drink/party, but being the old people that we are Hamid, Farhad, and I decided to stay home and continue to indulge our internet addiction.

Ladies, he's availiable.

Saturday more or less followed the same routine--stay up late, sleep in late, and wake up/get ready when the hot sun has gone down so we can leave the house not in a pool of sweat. Saturday night the agency I was hired through put together this little social at a bar in Taskim, so the three of us decided to head out to that to meet new people. The night before Farhad and I had made a pact, because one of the gifts I brought him was a pin from the Feminist Majority Foundation that says "this is what a feminist looks like," and I told him wearing it would help him get women (lets be real, what woman doesn't love a man who loves women's equality?). So he actually wore it out to the bar in Taksim to use as an ice breaker, which actually worked and made me so happy. Met some cool fellow teachers, swapped frustrating experiences about organizational issues/resettling in a new place, but the bar wasn't very good and was overpriced so we only stayed for about an hour.

The beautiful boys

After the English bar we went to a succession of bars with our friends Ekin and Urun and the Jamaican backpacker Sammi they are currently hosting. It was a great group of people and I particularly enjoyed the last bar we went to, Karakedi bar. At first it seemed like we were being lead to our imminent death in a sketchy abandoned building in one of the side alleys of Taksim, but once we get up to the 3rd floor we see there's a really classy/laid back bar with live music setting the perfect mood for conversation/drinking. That's the thing I love about knowing people here---like with any city you get to go and visit a lot of places you might have otherwise not been able to go as they are hidden away. So we stayed there for a bit drinking while Sammi got hit on by this very creepy Iraqi guy, who Farhad kept making fun of. The band played a lot of old american classic songs, so that was fun to sing along to. Overall though we were having a great time celebrating Urun's last night out in Istanbul before he goes to study abroad for 5 months in The Netherlands, a great way to be welcomed back to Istanbul on my first weekend back.

I'm using the religious Sunday is a day of rest card today, so besides waking up and introducing the boys to pancakes it's going to be a lazy one to prepare for long days of orientation next week. While there's a lot of stuff to think about/do here, so far I'm happy with my decision and look forward to seeing how the city will influence me in the next year and what kind of paths I may be inspired to follow.

Male Peacocking

So I'm sitting with my friends Matt and Jess on the NYC Subway, probably one of the better places to people watch in the safety of an air-conditioned space (in August, this is a godsend) and a man across the aisle from us catches our eye. Granted, this man would never be on the cover of GQ, but immediately he catches my eye as something to be desired, which Matt quickly confirms and we both know why. Without a second thought, Matt says "What would that man's beard equate to in breast size?"

I like me some beards, which shouldn't be a surprise to anyone who knows me well. But this wasn't always so--being one of the many girls who grew up in the 90's with fresh faced boy bands I was subconsciously bread to use them as the benchmark for the pinnacle of everything that was to be desired in a man. But then by about age 14 things started to change...basically, puberty. I distinctly remember we had this orchestra TA my sophomore year, Mr. Sokolik, who was the biggest jolliest looking man I'd ever seen. He was obviously going bald, but what he lacked on top he more than made up for with his gloriously full facial hair and, needless to say, I found it fascinating. Men can grow hair on their face, I thought, that's so badass. It was a weird kind of worship, the epitome of I-can't-do-that-so-therefore-its-cool envy (sorry Freud, you had the wrong kind of envy). Beard=man=good. For me, that was the beginning of my love affair. Ever since then, I've had a deep fondness in my heart (and parts ;)) for beards. It's just my preference. Only lately, it's not just my preference. Beard lovers are everywhere.

Work it, boy.

Which brings me back to the NYC Subway. As we began objectifying this man based on his beard length, fullness, and style with which he accentuated the beard (we gave him a solid C) it began to sink in what my friend Thomas asked me months ago after the hipster fad seemed to have pretty definitely claimed beard-love as their own.

Are beards the new form of male peacocking? 


The fact is, males over the past 30 years have become cultural sexual objects. While it still may not be to the level that women experience, the fact is men are being looked at as needing to be aesthetically pleasing--meaning that men are re-entering a level of consciousness about their own sex appeal and need to impress outside of the evolutionary biology traditional narratives we give men as being desirable only to the degree to which they can "provide." There are many opinions about whether or not this is a good or bad thing, which I'm not going to get into now, but the fact is that today men are being asked to step it up.

 #team USA  #conceited ass hole

And with this latest hipster fad, they are. They really are. In this whole shift towards a more trendy-backwards-hippy-natural-traditionalist youth culture we have right now, beards have become the way men establish their manliness and sex appeal in a pretty straightforward way. It's a way of embracing the obvious difference men and women, accentuating a trait that is all man--basically the definition of peacocking to a T. And men know it, and men proudly sporting facial hair have popped up all around the country--so much so that there is not only just a culture of obsession around them, but an actual economic market. There are fb groups, there is merchandise, there was a tv show, and there is even an entire month dedicated to mustache worship as well as international competitions dedicated towards the art of growing facial hair as a way of increasing ones sexy-factor. It's even become so popular that studies have been popping up proving the benefits of facial hair (yeah, science bitch!), not to mention lots of celebrities have started popping up sporting the unshaven look, setting a new standard for sexy. And ladies are taking notice.

While not all woman may love the full beard look, I don't know any who aren't at least a little turned on by a bit of 5 o'clock shadow. Whether it's biological or cultural, the fact is beards are having an impact on the way that men promote themselves as objects of lust and the standard by which some women determine their partners attractiveness. The fact that I can sit there as a woman and rate different men's desirability on a scale to which men have equated women based on another uncontrollable biological predisposition with breasts is an interesting turn of events and roles within the mating-game.

I'm not saying that the latest facial hair fad is here to stay, or that I completely reject men who don't grow facial hair, or that we need to perpetuate this cycle of domination with the objectification of the male body. But I will say facial hair is playing an interesting part in the mating game right now, and in terms of peacocking the one's who do grow facial hair definitely stick out to me in a crowd. Whether its the sexy scruffy look or full on homeless beard, nothing screams "look at me, I'm a man! Take me!" more than facial hair.

And frankly, I kinda like being impressed.

Faith

I didn't go looking for sadness, so it didn't come looking for me
like the laws of physics the object that was my life
continued in motion, unperturbed by the smooth surface that allowed my
suspension of disbelief to continue into adulthood.
I believed people were kind, or at least my people were kind
the friendly faces at the door, the gentle hands that tucked me in at night
like the air filled butterfly I was being bread to become, not seeing the
cage my cocoon had formed itself into. It was easier to imagine
that everyone was right than I was wrong, the night air feels cooler on your skin
when you choose to leave your coat at home and find solace in the arms of a creator.

It didn't make sense to leave, to know god was to hold fast
to hold fast was to move fast, to beehives to mia maids to laurels to relief society
never really relieving yourself from the inevitable call to womanhood
I knew by body would one day be called to serve. There was stillness, to be sure
everyone knew god came as a whisper but sometimes
he came to me like a scream and I awoke from terrors at being found
not worthy. Of being found uncounted among the flock.
Of being left out of the flock altogether.

And so I read myself into faith as was promised and found joy. I found
people and places and miracles that proved that I
was no different but that I could be different if I only chose
to follow the iron rod instead of curiously wandering into the great and spacious
for a glimpse of coveted independence. That was not to be done.
Apples can only be cut on teethbone closed against the
same questions that tore the original mother away from her promised land
by the tempting serpent. Knowledge is the greatest gift of god
only saved for the next life Sydney,
and you are no serpent
you were chosen in heaven.
Be patient. Everything will make sense in the temple.

There was this idea, this idea that I was above
no beside, no behind, and I never quite knew what papers laid in front of his
warm pudgy hands as he leaned over his desk sizing up my worthiness card.
Pictures of whitewashed men looming behind him in an incandescent glow
of superiority with all-seeing eyes reading over his list of depersonalized qualifications.
he wanted to know everything that time, even when I felt it wasn't between us
he wedged himself like a hammer between me and my god
the hierarchy had been decided, it wasn't just today it was eternal
and I better get used to it if I ever wanted to wear white again.

Sometimes I wonder what would have been, what could have been
with what god gave me under the circumstances of who I was meant to be,
of who I am in the process of becoming. With knowing how blindness ended up being a virtue,
how forgiving and forgetting sounded a whole lot like denial how
not asking too many questions sounded like not swallowing too many hard answers.
I won't lie and say it was easy, I won't lie and say
sitting on fences didn't cut my legs some days leaving me crippled and bleeding like the
Jew we're all supposed to look after as good Samaritans,
though none of us were ever allowed to play the part of Jew. It's not that I needed saving,
it's that I didn't need celestial closure that my life had an organized purpose. I guess no one told them
books are meant to be read from front to cover and life
maybe isn't supposed to be planned, and maybe the meaning of salvation
happens along the way and maybe none of us are right in saying
we know. We testify. We affirm.
Maybe we should just wait until the end of the novel before we start forming discussion questions.

I didn't go looking for sadness, but it finally came looking for me
in the hands of lovers I could never have, of lands I could never see with a baby on my back
of power I could never feel without being labeled a heretic and it hit me like a thick brick wall
halting the momentum I had spent my whole life accumulating. It didn't feel like falling from grace
but every sidelong glance became a silent weapon letting me know
I had questioned the wrong answers. I was no longer one of us.
I had become them, and I guess you can never really explain
to people who are drowning that they're drowning while still in the water they have to
feel the rock of salvation for themselves to know that redemption
is validated in the soul, not in a pew.
That forgiveness doesn't come from a desk, but from a mirror
that love isn't offered in a piece of bread but in the way
you let someone love you for the scars
you never wanted to forget were part of who you have become
because god loves all his children full stop.
and I know that days will pass, and well meaning prayers will still be uttered
in temples around the world on my behalf
and nicely pressed suits will continue to knock on my door
asking if I need any yard work done but the day will never cease
when I won't fight for my right to the eternal, in whatever form it may come
asking all the right questions without the curtain of Oz making
beautiful illusions for how I am supposed to get there.