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.