Reflections on the Journey of Prop 8

As an ex-Mormon who was on the opposite end of the 2008 Prop 8 controversy, it’s been quite a different journey this past week watching marriage equality being settled in the national courts. Having sat on the receiving end of those congregational announcements in Mormon chapels around the country with something leaning more towards ambivalence than outward hatred for homosexuality and DOMA, I was constantly told that it was a zero sum “us” versus “them” argument. And after years of being taught about the church’s early persecution and indoctrinated with this victimization complex, it was increasingly clear that this “affront” to the “traditional family unit” was very much a continuation of the religious intolerance the Church had experienced in its early inception. Therefore to remain neutral on the subject of Prop 8 to obviously not take your Mormon identity seriously enough, something which I think drove a lot of people out into the streets to prove their religiosity. 

Do I make you horny baby, do I?

However the larger publicized idea behind the Mormon’s push for Prop 8 was that allowing California to legalize same-sex marriage would set a precedent for the rest of the country. Allowing same-sex marriage to continue in California would only lead to a slippery slope wherein people could then begin to wed their beloved dogs, cats, and horses (obviously) and breaking down the foundation of the family as we know it (again, a drastic leap).


Supporters like Alan Ashton, grandson of former LDS President David O. McKay played a huge role in making sure the measure was passed in its final crucial hours of need with his million dollar donation while many other faithful members also actively committed their time and effort to the cause. My own family participated in drawing the hard-fastened battle lines between those of us who were prompted to feel religiously obligated to support the measure and those members of the family outside the church who fought quite openly with their voice and wallets to strike down the bigoted definition of marriage. Needless to say, it was a tense dinner table.

This all becomes hyper-relevant in light of the Supreme Court’s ruling that DOMA and Prop 8 are both unconstitutional, measures which were both heavily supported by the Mormon front. And while the Church has remained relatively silent as DOMA and Prop 8 worked their way up to the Supreme Court these past few weeks, they were quick to respond once the measures had been defeated. Within hours of the court’s ruling, official LDS spokesman Michael Otterson spoke out like many conservative defeatists saying that

“the Supreme Court has highlighted troubling questions about how our democratic and judicial system operates. Many Californians will wonder if there is something fundamentally wrong when their government will not defend or protect a popular vote that reflects the views of a majority of their citizens.” 

Because blaming legislature overtly ripe with homophobic discrimination on the “system” helps to lessen the blow of losing so much money on support, I guess. Human rights violations are obviously ok as long as the majority votes they are.

I say this because while California’s constitution has been disputed about all these years, many amazing progressive changes are happening all around the country. Currently 12 states and the District of Columbia have legalized same-sex marriage. And as someone who watched and supported the legalization of marriage in Washington State this past November I was shocked by the eerie silence as the Church took more of a backseat role in mobilizing the saints to public action.

And as I sat there in front of my ballot as a former California diaspora, hovering over the box for referendum 74 which would legalize marriage equality I couldn't help but think: “Did hetero-normative families around the rest of the country just not need as much “protecting? Where were the pulpit announcements now?” 

The point is, California’s influence had already taken hold—and many realized it was a losing battle and jumped ship, especially with the new generation of Mormons being raised in these changing times. I’m increasingly grateful that I was one of these youth able to break out of this intolerant mold and help bring about that cultural shift within the church in regards to homosexuality. Since 2008’s Prop 8 ruling and my own spiritual growth out and away from the church, it’s been bittersweet to watch the LDS faith’s stance shift so palpably from outward homophobic activism to one of tolerance, love and acceptance.

Sites like “Mormons and gays,” “Mormons Building Bridges” and the BYU “It Gets Better” campaign have highlighted the discrepancies between the scriptures admonishment to “love thy brother as thyself ” and the reality of implicitly supported cultural homophobia in the church. These steps are much needed and much appreciated by members who have both stayed and left the church, though they are still just a first step and far from being enough.

I mention these changes because the Mormon church and many other religious affiliates have gotten a lot of shit for their support of Prop 8, and as someone who is pro-gay marriage, I would say rightly so. They chose an extremely politically visible way to go about pushing their beliefs and lost--and there’s no way they can back-peddle now. But as an ex-Mormon (or "less active" as my family continues to label me as) who is still and probably will always be intimately connected to their weird religious roots, I think the shifts in attitudes towards gays in the LDS church are worth watching as legislation continues to pop up supporting same-sex marriage.

I know from personal experience (sitting on that fence) that there are a lot more religious moderates than liberals like to admit—and they are a great untapped resource in mobilizing for social equality movements. I don’t know—maybe I’m just an eternal romantic optimist that still likes to believe our generation was made for change, religious or not—but I truly believe working with people on both side of this divide is going to be the ticket for future sustainable change in marriage equality. And who knows—maybe those of us who decided not to hop ship will have the strength, voice, and power to endure and steer the LDS ship around as an ally for marriage equality.

Let’s just stay tuned after this new change of tide in the Supreme Court and not count the Mormons out just yet. 

The Politics of Sex: Why Being On Top Matters

Kevin Spacey in the new Netflix series "House of Cards"

Like many twentysomethings today--anti-socially addicted to the internet and well-rehearsed in potentially detrimental binge habits, I love watching netflix. Recently the multibillion dollar powerhouse decided to release their first ever series entitled "House of Cards"--a political drama following the stereotypical corruption and oftentimes questionable decisions of the most powerful country in the world. Being a person who loves politics, quick wit, and cleverly thought out back-stories and sub-plots I quickly fell in love with the show's seductively intricate expose on modern day US politics. Also being heavily interested in feminist politics and especially the way in which the media both regurgitates and shapes our views about sexuality, I found the show to do a pretty great (although frustrating) job at depicting a lot of the sad realities women face in rising to power---staying there. Oftentimes in the show (and in life) this came as a result of women utilizing their bodies and sexuality as hyper-sexualized objects in order to receive an "equal" spot at the sometimes sadomasochist political table.

Underwood (Spacey) & Barnes (Mara) in one of their secret meetings.

While the overall theme and lens of the show is very masculine focused as far as documenting the cut-throat individualism often associated with men's positions of power, the show does have a few notable women who also obtain a certain degree of power--though with notable differences. In one episode about halfway through the series' first season, the main protagonist Congressman Frank Underwood (Kevin Spacey) is in the middle of an elicit (though not shocking) affair with journalist Zoe Barnes (Kate Mara) who is trying her best to rise up the journalist ladder in the competitive Washington DC news reporting climate. When faced with the reality that their physical relationship is now inextricably connected with their professional one, Frank hits her quite transparently with this great one-liner:

A great man once said, everything is about sex. Except sex. Sex is about power.

Though everyone realizes the implicit communicative act that is sex, I was blown away by how much his eerie-confession hit home. As the series progressed and the two continued their power-driven sexual battle-of-wills, the correlation between sex and power became even more well defined. Sex then became overtly recognized as a sociopolitical tool, a mirror exposing the ways in which our relationships are constructed in real positions of power and influence.

As someone who is very much still working out the underlying messages of their own sexual identity, the reality that what goes on in the bedroom as being directly related to social relationships outside makes perfect sense. Sex is a social act—it’s about vulnerability and negotiating. It is (and should hopefully always be) about mutual consenting individuals getting "theirs" and being an accommodating partner in return. But I’m not naïve, and the reality is that power relationships are being negotiated in every corner of our lives (including our most personal ones). Sex then is rarely just about the physical.

Sex is infinitely influenced by cultural constructs and assumptions about gender roles, and when combined with institutionalized positions of power and privilege (especially when it comes those in charge of policy making) it can be a form of control and a perpetuation of modern-day sadomasochism. bell hooks-- a feminist, social activist, and professor of English at City College in New York has written several books about the intersectionality of women, love, sex, and systems of power and "domination." In her book "Communion: the female search for love" she criticizes the hyper-sexualization of power saying:

The rise in sexual sadomasochism both in everyday life and in our intimate lives seems to be a direct response to the unresolved changes in the nature of gender roles... Let's face the fact that it helps to eroticize domination if you feel you can't change it. Women and men do not know what to do, what roles to play. Sexual sadomachoism broadens the playing field, gives everyone access to more roles, without creating concrete changes in the ways power and affection are distributed in relationships, in our public and private lives (p. 228)

The eroticization of Zoe Barnes' helpless character in the face of her inability to change the nature of their relationship is palpable. It is the same helplessness many women climbing to power fear in the face of the overwhelmingly double-standard of women's sexuality narratives--that regardless of how sexually "liberated" they may feel, they are still very much at the mercy of men when it comes to translating that sexual power into the boardroom. Though Barnes' character tries her hardest to take her rightful spot at the table of power, the fact that she is still a woman playing in the male-dominated world of politics greatly affects the possibility of her ascension--leaving her in a no-win situation in which her sexuality is pinned against her. Frank Underwood and Zoe Barnes' relationship in ‘House of Cards’ therefore brings up very honest questions about the blurred lines between sexual and professional politics.

The point I’m trying to make is this: that sex matters, but for much more beyond the blatantly obvious. And the effects of sadomasochism as a response to the often blurred lines of our sexual politics are only pushing us farther back from our goals of mutual fulfillment in and outside sex. We need to accept that as women’s power shouldn’t come from lying on our backs but utilizing those same backbones to sit straighter at the tables of authority and equality we deserve.

Though not all of us will find ourselves in positions of sexual and professional submission as blatant as Mara's journalist character, many more of us WILL be exposed at some point to the inequality that still exists in the politics of sex and we must address it honestly and critically. Paying attention to the ways in which power is utilized and expressed in sexual acts can then lead to a more constructive egalitarian discourse outside the bedroom in creating real sustainable change in the realm of gender equality. To use the words of Rebecca Walker:.

"If sex is a form of communication let us think about what we want to say and how will we say it." 

Now if only inequality was as easy to topple as a house of cards.

How to Raise Kids: from someone who has none but was one

1. Don't ever tell them they don't understand

You don't know what they're going through--you don't know the reality or complexity of the emotions they face and how they deal with it. Granted, they may not be as deep, well thought out, or articulated as when they are older and have a greater selection of experiences to choose from--but that doesn't make their situation any less valid. Some children go through things most adults never will.

2. Self-correction is often the best

Getting certified to teach English as a foreign language, we are constantly encouraged to maximize our students speaking time and instead of giving them the answers are told to elicit their own understanding of the language. I feel this is the same with children. The bits of life lessons/morals from my parents I remember most are the ones that came in the form of questions--of carefully positioned responses. Ones that encouraged me to own up to my own mistakes and find my own answers. In this way I was able to internalize that change was of my own volition--which make it that much more sustainable in the long term.

3. Know when to put on your "friend" and "parent" caps

There's a find line between supporting kids and enabling them with informal parenting. Take my mother for example--being a single mother, recently divorces, she decided early on to be our best friend. This was partially because she was probably trying to compete to be the "cooler" parent and also because she really needed our emotional support when going through a hard time. Regardless, she took more of a back seat to wearing the strict parent cap a lot of times when we crazy kids probably really needed a firm and disciplined hand. Luckily we came into our own balance in the end, but it doesn't mean that we didn't also have our fair share of years using my mother's backbone as a footstool for our own selfish childhood desires because she allowed us too.

4. Each child is different, so switch it up

Again I resort to an example from my own childhood--but isn't that the foundations upon which all grounds for giving advice is built? So my sister and I are two completely different people. If it wasn't for my sister's striking resemblance to my father, I'd say we were from a different gene pool. She has always been a bit more rambunctious as the baby of the family whereas I was a little bit more self disciplined being the eldest child. After about age 13 I really became self sufficient in my raising, but my sister needed a little bit more prodding to do things. However because my mother had become so accustomed to raising an older independent "hands off" child, she was a little lost as to how to adapt for a completely different type of child with a totally new type of parenting which left my younger sister in a kind of wild spin for longer than she might have normally been. The point is: being honest and receptive about variances in children can then really help in addressing each child's individual need and being the best parent.

5. Childhood ends too quickly--so take advantage of it.

You never know the moment when loving daddy turns into evil dictator and wonderful mommy turns into crazy master--so enjoy it while you can. Childhood is grossly undervalued, and childhood innocence seems to be getting lost younger and younger these days so be there while you can. Because no matter how great the relationship there will be, at some point, some very rocky years where you're locking away the shotgun more out protection for yourself rather than your children. They're going to reach out for that individual freedom and you have to let them, all the while remaining willing to let them grow into the people they are meant to be rather than forcing them into a permanent resemblance of their childhood image.

6. Be ready for their changes--inside and out.

As people, we are dynamic and evolving creatures whose identities are always in flux. Your children especially are going through a lot of changes and they are going to look to you for direction and accurate information. Be as honest as possible with them--regardless of how awkward it can be, it is better they heard it from you. Don't assume that the school is filling them in correctly, I will be one outspoken testament to the fact that our health education classes can be very vague and confusing and I wish someone would have explained it better to me rather than finding it out through the grapevine. Sharing personal experiences about social relationships and growing up can also be a great way to establish credibility and build rapport with your kids as they themselves go through these same changes.

7. The best way to lead is by example

Many others have stressed the importance of practicing what you preach and leading by example. My favorite story/example just happens to come from one of the most famous people of the 20th century--Mahatma Gandhi. The story goes that one day a woman brought her son to Gandhi because he was addicted to sugar. "I've done all that I can do, can you please talk with my son and rid him of this problem?" she asked. Gandhi thought for a moment and said "Come back to me in a week." The next week when the woman returned Gandhi beckoned the boy onto his lap and looked him straight in the eyes. "Don't eat so much sugar, it's bad for you ok?" The boy nodded and the family was off. As the two went to leave the women turned to Gandhi and said "But I've already told him that before, what makes you think he will listen to you this time?" to which Gandhi replied "Last week when you came to visit me, I too was addicted to sugar. I could not ask him to give up something which I myself was struggling with until I had succeeded in overcoming it." The idea is that people are ultimately more receptive to those who can intimately connect with their same struggles and experiences--it is something that you can feel. You can't ask your children to do something you yourself are not practicing, so lead through example. That way they will know that your criticisms and critiques are coming from a place of love and understanding versus frustration, annoyance, or judgement.

8. Give your children a variety of opportunities

Some kids are born natural athletes, others find their love in academia, while others stumble into more artistic avenues. One of the things I honestly think makes America so great is that we really try and stress the well-rounded person who encompasses a variety of hobbies and skills. I feel really lucky that I was able to simultaneously be in sports, music, academia, and the arts throughout my childhood as it let me explore what I was good at and gain confidence in a variety of different environments. Granted, money comes to be a factor here in exactly what types of activities you can expose your kids to--but get creative. Can you imagine how Einstein's parents might have kicked themselves had they tried to force Albert into football? Exactly--so let your kids explore their interests and be there to love, support, and encourage them along the way.

9. Teach them early on about responsibility

Helping your kids to be as self-sufficient as possible before they leave home is probably the greatest gift you can leave them with. This means both girls AND boys need to be given tasks appropriate to their age and practice being held responsible for things like taking out the trash, washing the dishes, cooking, and doing the laundry. The temptation to baby them might be there, but I've had my fair share of incompetent housemates to say that BELIEVE ME--you are doing them a great disservice by sheltering them from future responsibilities. They will have to learn sometime, and early on is always better than later.

10. Take time to be selfish

That's right--you are still you outside of your role as a parent and THAT'S OK. Being a parent is still an incredibly huge part of your life but it's not your whole identity. Personal progression should continue all through out your focus on your children's own development which will become way more apparent when the kids finally leave the house and you're stuck alone with yourself again.Your entire identity cannot be wholly dependent on your kids, as that dependency can get really suffocating as they try to branch out and discover themselves outside of your relationship with them. So find out what makes you happy and go do it. Life is too short to put some of your goals off on an 18-year hiatus--so stand up for yourself and keep on progressing!

PRIDE: Los Angeles

The one place where you can rest assured that they want you to shine bright like a diamond.

So I had been to pride before in Olympia which was a great, albeit smaller, experience. There was the typical flamboyancy--the glamour, the nakedness, the colors, the beautiful boys. But this was forever ago in high school so I've been a bit out-of-touch with the scene. But after getting an email from my new boss over at the Feminist Majority Foundation that tonight was the kickstarter lesbian Purple Fest night of pride, I knew I would have to go again. However since this was a major US city I knew I would need to step it up.

My comrades in crime for this adventure were Matt and Jess--two of the greatest people/friends I've had up to this point in my life. Lucky for me they are also down in Azusa for the summer so we decided to meet up and do West Hollywood. Having no idea how lesbians partied in relation to the gays I love so dearly, I decided I would rather be over-prepared for the magic (which included a LOT of glitter and general LOOK AT ME attire) and we headed out to brave the Los Angeles traffic Matt insisted would not be that bad (fool...utter fool).

Obviously, there was traffic around the Hollywood Bowl with a concert on tonight, but since we were able to find free parking at a grocery store near the venue it was almost worth it to suffer through a bit of traffic. Get out of the car though and immediately realize that I'm the only one who wanted to go balls-deep in party attire, but luckily people are complimenting me on my wings and such so it's not that awkward. After entering the park with the performance stage we hear that it's time to go on the march down the street so we immediately start off walking with a throng of other loud and proud lesbians. A few people shout out to me that they love my wings, and we end up talking with this one guy who is promoting this lesbian archive with articles about prominent lesbians throughout history who have helped the movement. Pretty cool experience.

After the march the party continued back at the park with some girl-punk bands including 'Uh-huh-Her' where I discovered Alice from 'The L Word' who has apparently been in the band since forever. Was kind of trippy recognizing her. Their set was followed by a succession of live djs, though we only stayed to dance to one (fearful that we'd get towed for parking...strategically in the parking lot). The mixer was good, especially liked the remix to "My Goodies" which brought back SUCH strong memories of middle school (which most times I'd rather not relive). Loved just being outside with my gays dancing, though I did notice something drastically different about the ways Americans dirty dance.

It's sex. It's straight up sex.

No class, no suave. Women just bend over, touch their toes, stick their ass out and twerk it. I've never come across anything quite as vulgar as that in any of the countries I've traveled to before. Not to say there isn't dirty dancing, it's just that in Europe at least they DANCE. I have no problems with more sexual dancing, lets just make sure there's some kind of movement/skill and not just a mass orgy session. Because at the party, it was straight up cheap pornography on the dance floor which I thought kind of distracted from the otherwise great vibe. Took me back to sweaty-high school dance days awkwardly standing in the corner trying to have a good time but feeling ostracized for not allowing myself to be raped on the dance floor.

Arrived back at home with enough time to get all domestic making scottish shortbread cookies while waiting for Sean and Ashley Oborn (more friends from Hawaii) to finish their ride down from Northern California for  another Hawaiian friend's reception tomorrow in San Diego. Overall, a great evening catching up and being social and spreading the love to all people. Looking forward to continuing the good times down here in SoCal this summer :)

On Being Tall

Eight percent and the gap is waning,
or gaining momentum--I'm never quite sure but I do remember
the look Marie gave me when I brought home that 5'7" greek god
whose head could rest perfectly on my shoulder when standing
side by side for the family portrait.
She pulled me aside, her brow pointed arrows of spanish inquisition
she was trying her best to soften down into something invitational.
"he's short" was all she said--as if I didn't know, my sister's glow
fading with every sidelong glance at the man I had come to call love.

They didn't know what to make of us
this anomaly of anatomy
and so they stacked us like jenga pieces
right knee, left calf
left hip, right thigh
bended torso, heeled shoe
crooked lines, cooked shoulders, crooked seasaw hips
swinging back and forth with a pendulum of budding insecurity
that would give the man next to me just enough edge so
when he used my lower back as a footstool
clinging to me like the broken ladder I positioned myself as to feel "tiny"
a gendered sense of order could be maintained.
Everyone could rest easy.

One flash and the illusion was captured forever.

I tried to throw that picture away,
not the tangible plastic but the memory it engrained into my sense of right
of height and all that comes along with it. Love was
blindness, or should have been but when every shoe becomes a tool with which
to measure our compatibility, the correcting glass society had given us
became jagged, cutting our home deeper and deeper apart.
Though ninety-two percent of rent could be split up equally between us
that eight percent grew wider and wider, our planner thinner and thinner
as we found new excuses to stay inside, to close our eyes--to lie down,
to turn off the lights. To be apart.

Years later we got so tired of fighting over what building the tallest tower actually meant
that in the end nothing could ever stack up--we fell tumbling to the floor
hard-fastened, inanimate, resolved--the game was over
though to who was the ultimate victor I couldn't say.

Now when the photographer comes
they put me on the bench next to my seven year old niece and
at least I don't have to position myself complimentary.

Istanbul, no Constantinople

It's hard to describe a city the second time you experience it. Being in Istanbul, I was constantly at a loss for what to take pictures of/where to go since I already did most of the things here last time. But fair is fair, and it's about time I start writing things down before I forget. Lord knows with my alteizmers, details are already slipping. You may have to use your imagination for a lot of this though since I didn't take a lot of pictures and am relying on friends to slowly start uploading them.

Monday I arrived in Istanbul tired but excited to finally sit still for 2 weeks and recuperate after weeks of nonstop traveling. While I love the nomadic life, too much is too much and I needed to get back into some sort of routine. 

Burakhan, Pinar, Brandon, and Baba met me at the airport to drive us back to Çengelköy on the asian side of Istanbul where Burakhan's family lives. Burakhan was Brandon's host brother 3 years ago when we were hear studying with NSLI-Y, and graciously invited us to stay with his family again for our 2 week vacation. On the way back to the house we stopped for some delicious cai at a beautiful cafe along the Bosphorus, right near to Boğaziçi Köprüsü (the first bridge connecting the asian and european sides of istanbul). After we headed back to the house to unpack and relax--waiting for anne to get home from work so we could go out and expore


That night we met up with one of Burak's friends for some traditional nargile (hookah) in downtown Çengelköy. Sitting there on the roof, smoking, watching the bridge glow different colors it felt completely natural--almost like we'd never left. Baba picked us up afterwards to bring us back home (thank goodness, with all of the hills in Istanbul it is an absolute nightmare getting up all of them after a long day of traveling). 

Tuesday Burak didn't have school so we headed out to Ortakoy for waffles and kumpir (basically a baked potato amplified with delicious turkish add-ons). Ortakoy is one of my favorite spots in Istanbul--right near the bridge, with a whole bunch of cute little shops and places to eat at on the water. We sat down after getting our food in a little cafe as it started to rain, playing backgammon, smoking more nargile, and getting to know Burak's girlfriend Pinar even better. They've been dating for over a year now and are right on track for getting married here within the next few years. She's the cutest little thing ever--all smiles and broken english with a deep love and addiction for social media. We became great friends while I was there despite the language barrier.

Wednesday and Thursday Brandon and I were basically left to our own devices, which when you're traveling with Brandon Holden immediately means: shopping. I wasn't too upset about it since I had been living quite conservatively out of my backpack for the past 4 weeks and was dying to get a few new things to spice up my dull wardrobe. Especially needed  clothes for going out on the town, which I finally found at Cevahir mall (one of the biggest malls in Europe). It took fucking forever to find my shoe size (most turkish women are very small all around), and a lot of people didn't even know that they made shoes that size. So, feeling like a crazy ogre, I had almost given up hope when I finally came across the black flats I had been looking for. We also made the arduous trek up to Camlica, a gorgeous little look out over the city, super romantic. 

Friday we met up with our old Turkish teachers Ozan and Nazim from when we went to Istanbul last time with the State Department which was a nice change of pace. Nazim is a graduate student at Boazici University (one of the top universities in Istanbul) and Ozan teaches political economy at anohter reputable university. The pair of them together embody the idea of a true intellectual, and so picking their brain about a variety of different topics from the role of turkey in the middle east, to sexual discrimination and mandatory military service took on a whole new robust intercultural meaning. Talking with them also reaffirmed my desire to continue on with school and add to the realm of academia--they're really well read and respectable men. Just the kind of people who should be leading/influencing the next generation.  

Since we arrived in Istanbul around the time of finals, the two of them had to head out kind of early to continue on with their studying/grading. Brandon and I, lenient about turning in early, opted to stick around taksim and get a few drinks ourselves. That night I had my first drink of turkish raki, which I had been toold by Brandon was the most absolutely vile drink ever. Having tried it though, I'd definitely say that the greek raki was far more disgusting, and mixing the raki with water is really the way to go. It didn't take much alcohol to get me talking, and we sat their swapping experiences and life stories for a good hour or so before heading home to the asian side.

Saturday we had planned to go out on the town with some friends Brandon made the last time we were hear, but since they had decided to party on Friday night they were too hung over to do a back-to-back night out. Regardless: we were set on going out. Pre-gamed with Burak in his room before heading out to Taksim to explore the nightclub scene. Went into several places and got lots of free drinks, before ending up at the gay bar a bit away from the center of taksim. I've already written about that experience in a past post, so I won't go into that again here. I'll just say again: amazing time. 

Staying out until 6am dancing was, in retrospect, probably not the greatest idea since we had planned a family picnic the next morning at 10 am. After barely sleeping, we dragged ourselves out of bed, nearly comatose, for a day out enjoying the sun at the black sea. Picnics are a traditional turkish family outing, and when we arrived there were plenty of other families set up for their day of relaxation -hammocks, traditional music blasting, more food than anyone can ever hope to fit in their stomach with any type of pleasure. To take advantage of the sun we went tanning and swimming in the sea (freezing...absolute ice cubes). Played monkey-in-the-middle with Burak, Fatos, and Brandon before realizing a little scary fact about the black sea. 

It's filled with jellyfish.

I. shit. my. pants. 

There were so many of them--clear so they blended in with the water, of various shapes and sizes. In the states, if someone saw a jellyfish the logical response would be to get the fuck out. To the turkish? Pick them up. Keep swimming. Throw them at people. 


Not. Funny.
I repeat: not funny. 

That was the end of me swimming in the black sea, which was fine since it was about time for us to gorge ourselves on delicious barbecue. After rounds of chicken, grilled vegetables, kofte, bread, and other meats I was begging for death. Ended up passing out on one of the picnic tables as the others lounged under a shady tree, trying to catch up on sleep and recover from the night's slight hangover. Anne woke us up about an hour later for some tea, after which we packed up and headed back to Istanbul. I slept for 12 hours that night.

Monday Pinar joined the three of us for a day at one of Brandon and I's favorite tourist destinations: Buyukada. Buyukada essentially means "big island" and is one of the chain of islands right off of the coast of Istanbul--super beautiful, secluded, quiet (no cars allowed), and beautiful. We rented bikes and decided to ride around the island to soak in all of the beautiful views. Sounds like a nice time, but by about halfway through I was dead. So many hills, such scorching heat, such little shade. Istanbul definitely took it out of me with all of this physical training. I was grateful for the experience, but also glad to stop being anally raped by the bike seat after a while.

Tuesday Brandon and I headed out alone to one of my favorite little backstreet flea markets in Levent. The clothes there are super cheap (between 2-10 USD), essentially overstock from companies that manufacture a lot of their clothes in Turkey (definitely have seen h&m stuff in there). After that success we moved on to the more expensive Sultanahmet for a taste of old-historic Istanbul. Haggled a bit in the grand bazaar for some jewelry, flirted with sexy shopkeepers, and visited the beautiful blue mosque before meeting up with Burak and Pinar for dinner. Through her father's connections, we were able to eat a luxurious Turkish meal right on the bosphorus completely free of charge--getting to try some new traditional dishes that just added to my already deep love of turkish food. I was so stuffed by the end I could hardly move. 

Wednesday Burak wanted to show us the University he attends just outside of Istanbul, so we went with him by bus to visit while he turned in one of his final papers. The school was really pretty--set in the middle of a green forest which was a great breath of fresh air after the stuffy city. The bus ride home was hotter than hell (Istanbul in general, hotter than hell), so we rebelled for the rest of the day by calling it a "stay inside where it is cool with the internet" night. Watched a scary turkish movie about demons (not usually my thing, but I agreed to give it a good try) and nearly pissed myself when afterwards the lights went out in the entire neighborhood. To top it all off, Pinar passed out from being so scared which made us think that SHE was possessed by demons, which made it even more scary. Turns out it was just a routine energy saving power outage, but still. Too much.

Thursday we went to Boazici University to visit Nazim who is a student/teacher there. Boazici is a beautiful university--very green with lots of shade, so different from the rest of the city that you almost forget you're in Istanbul. The University is 150 years old and very regal looking--like I said before, an ivy-league Turkish school. I'd love to go back there and be a temporary professor later in life. Definitely a new goal on the list of things to do.

Friday we spent another lazy day inside prepping for the Turkish house party we had gotten invited to by the same friends who ditched us the week earlier. While awkward in the beginning with the langauge barrier, after the alcohol started to flow it became a lot more fluid with our social interactions. Met some cool turkish people, as well as some very interesting friends from Iran. To me, they were complete anomalies and I was shocked at how much we had in common. Besides being in love with cats and preferring them to dogs, they were also obsessed with the show 'Friends' which, as anyone knows, is my life.  I particularly connected with one in particular, Hamid, sharing poetry and many other philosophical outlooks on life. Hung out with them for the rest of the night and came to learn a lot more about trusting people and breaking down stereotypes/cultural fears.

Saturday we went with the entire family to this cute restaurant on top of a hill overlooking the city. Brandon went there with the family last time we were there, listening to traditional live Turkish music and taking in the views. There was also the opportunity to dress up in old traditional ottoman robes and take themed pictures, which we took advantage of and looked AWESOME. Also paddled around the lake and danced to the live band with anne and baba, sipping cai and basking in the ambiance of the place.

Sunday was another repeat picnic at the Black Sea--this time with more of the family. Convinced myself to swim fora  little bit despite the jellyfish, till this dumb turkish boy thought it would be funny to chase me around with a big one in his hands trying to throw it on me. I ended up grabbing a shoe and threatening to beat the shit out of him if he came any nearer, after which he finally relented. Brandon and I also got invited to play some football on the beach with a large group of boys which was SO unbelievably hot I got blisters on the bottom of my feet. But we did each score a goal, so it was worth it. Ended the day with a large feast and lounging about in the hammock.

For my last day in Istanbul I wanted to go back to Sultanahment to get some gifts for back home. Walked around the spice bazaar for the first time, trying different turkish delights and taking in the beautiful spices. Finally converted Brandon to baclava which was absolutely divine. Walking around a city for the last time is always weird as you are trying to take so much of it in, but it also is hard to believe you won't be standing in that place for a long time again. That's how it was with Istanbul--deep down I knew it was only goodbye for a short period of time.

That night the family went out for balik ekmek (fish sandwiches) on this boat restaurant on the european side to complete my "to-eat" checklist. Afterwards we met up with another old friend of Burak and Brandon's and went out to Fenerbache to smoke nargile for the last time and generally just hang out since I was leaving early the next morning on my flight. The sports bar was really laid back and the company was great--definitely ended the night with some of the greatest people in Istanbul. Pinar in particular was a hilarious drunk, so that was fun to see. After coming home at the end of the night at around 1am, I decided to just go ahead and stay awake and pull an all nighter for my flight. Wanted to take in Istanbul until the very last second.

Overall, I loved Istanbul best probably out of all the cities I visited this time. That's hard to say because each place comes with so many great memories and people along the way, but there's just something about that city that gets me--and maybe it just is that special place I'll always hold for it as the first place I traveled to. The people, the food, the architecture, the culture, the exchange rate, THE SEXY MEN...it was great, and I already miss it. I will definitely be going back soon though. Istanbul, seni seviroyrum <3

Open Letter To My Bathtub

Fuck.

The world.

Today.

The only arms I want wrapped around my body tonight is your sweet porcelain touch

as i sink farther and farther beneath the foamy white bubbles, you rising up to meet me

loosening the noose I've spent all day winding around my neck,

forcing me to surrender my electronic bullets before entering your gentle waters

your lavender breath overriding the shit I’ve been wading in all day

I'm done.

No more elegant facades.

The door is locked.

I have my spoon, my jar of nutella, my pot of tea

My head in the game for the

Six hours of Downton Abbey streaming on my laptop that's about to take place

with NO amount of shame because, fuck it.

After the day I've had, I need to believe there was a better time to be alive

to strive for my own Matthew Crawley because he's got to be out there but

tonight, his name is Moen because

frankly, i'm not trying to be on my feet any more than I absolutely have to

and lord knows I have enough pressure on my plate right now

to go around and share.

The phone is off for a reason and thank god we’re past the age of landlines.

You’d have to throw a pretty large soup can through my window right now

To get in contact with me, the string has been cut

I’ve shut myself away inside your loyal trench so

Please leave a message after the tone, ass hole.

I’ll get back to you as soon as it’s possible for you to get your own damn coffee.

But you know this and

maybe that's what I love about you most

how you won't ask me the questions you know I'm tired of answering every time i lay back

on that woman's chair, looking at ink blot representations of my current "state of mind"

I'm inclined to believe your therapy will do more than any pill but

I sware to GOD that I'll kill that man downstairs if he doesn't stop playing that fucking trumpet.

A repetitive scale striking every one of my nerves note by note

It’s rhythm a brand of hate searing into my memory

Images of his body blowing air

Out of new holes I’ll create for him with my bare hands.   

Some days I don't think people will ever learn,

But you—oh holy basin. Your holy water

is the only thing reminding me that what comes after Thursday is always

vodka, and that should be enough to get me by but why

I can’t have a few shots now is becoming less and less clear and

Goddamn when did Tom get so hot!

Enough with the American dream

New life plan: buy a ticket to Ireland

At least they understand my coping mechanisms.

And even though you’ll never be long enough or deep enough

Or stay warm long enough I forgive you and I know that you

Will always be there to wear out the paper creases of late credit card payments

Chiseled deep within my forehead causing me to age even more prematurely

In a never ending cycle of stressful demands my hands are tied to you

Like a lifesaving raft bringing me safely back to shore after a lifetime of trying to stay afloat.

and I'll stick with you until my toes look like prunes, and my hands feel like dried out pickles

and I've peed so many times I know even your magic hands can't hide the fact

that I am the most disgusting human being ever soaking in my own filth

but I don't care because i know that sometimes life is like you

and deep down i really love it and

deep down i really crave it and

deep down i really need it

and lord knows I'll never leave.