Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Forever Your Power and Strength Stays With Me

Nothing makes you feel more a resident of your home than being somewhere you aren't from.  When I was at school in Washington, DC, I must have had the same conversation a thousand times - in dorm lounges, yelled over music in bars, in cafeterias at work, on the Metro.

"So where you from?"
"Massachusetts, a city called Worcester, it's right in the middle of the state."
"So like...Cape Cod?"
"No, more like...you know what, Boston."

Boston is Massachusetts' pride and its passport.  No matter where you go, Boston is the Rosetta Stone; once you mention Boston, people have a picture...a city by the sea, with two lamps shining in the Old North Church, awash in that ridiculous accent, all tinged with green, with the USS Constitution in the background.  Also, lobsters.  But more than anything, a kind of gritty resilience.  To pretty much everyone I've ever met who has an idea of Boston, it's a place where you can make it if you're a grinder.  It's one of the last places people feel like you can hack out an existence on sheer will alone, and the city won't begrudge you.  It's not New York, where the city's "make it here, make it anywhere" charm is rooted in the idea that the City will keep trying to pull your success away, to keep you humble.  Neither of these things is true, of course - you can live a good, solid life in New York and you can get dumped on continually by Boston - but that's how it feels.  And when you are trying to make it in Boston, you do feel it.  You feel like you can make it.

I have had some of the worst years of my life in and out of Boston these last three years.  I have gotten divorced, I have struggled through graduate school at Boston University, I have found roadblock after roadblock.  What kept me going, though, was Boston, in all its forms.  My beautiful sister lives in the North End, the sweetest neighborhood in the city, and when I walk down Hanover Street home from Government Center, I see friends along the way, people I know through my sister, working at restaurants with windows thrown open to the sidewalks with the scents swirling out into the air.  I walk past Paul Revere's statue, with the Old North Church rising behind him, and past the fire station wedged in amongst the tall apartments, with their Boston Bruins championship banner and the Worcester Six hockey jersey hanging over the trucks.  I have studied along the Charles River, watching the crews skim over the water, and I've spent hours laughing and studying with Erin at Cornwalls. I've fought my way to class through Opening Day crowds...Fenway Park is right there, just waiting for you to ditch class and walk over.

These are just pictures of the last few hard years.  They come together with a lifetime of memories before them...Red Sox games with Dad and Grandad, Mario Lemieux's last game in Boston, the time Lucy and I babbled ourselves silly at David Sedaris' book signing at the Harvard Bookstore.  New Year's Eve with Scott, John and Matt.  The lightning show at the Museum of Science.  Long walks with Chris and dinners with Pierce.  Seeing The Police at Fenway Park and Lady Gaga at the Garden.  The T on the way to Sox games.  Christmas Eve with my sister and family at Strega.  Snow outside the Casablanca.  Copley.  Faneuil Hall.  Quicy Market.


I have exactly one friend I have known my entire life, and she was running the Marathon yesterday.  In fourth grade, Anna told me she wanted to be a physical therapist, and that's what she is doing today.  She had to stop at mile 25, when they shut down the marathon, but I think it's pretty evident she would have not only finished, but continued on, run all the way home to San Diego if she'd felt like it, or maybe just to our little island down the road, Block Island.  My whole second family was in Boston to watch her.

Anna was okay, and so was our family, and so were my friends and my sister.  The thing is, I know how crushing it must have been to have to stop. When you grow up near Boston, it looms so large.  We celebrate Patriot's Day here, which is basically an excuse to shut down the state for the Marathon.  Any marathon is an undertaking, but the Boston Marathon, especially for those of us from here, is something bigger.  To attack it is to attack something fundamental about Boston, it's to take a swing at Boston itself.  There has been a lot of "messed with the wrong city" bluster going around, but I can't feel anything but sad.  Doing something like this to something so good, that exists only to illuminate a city and to lift people up, is a darkness beyond what I can understand.

That said.

I know Boston will be okay, because it is a city of grinders.  It is a city of grinders and good people and friendly cab drivers and big personalities and smart people doing smart things and people overly attached to both Sam Adams and the Red Sox and good bartenders and people who never leave, even when they live in San Diego, and people who just love really damn hard.  I know Boston will be okay.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

The Unparalleled Awesomeness of M.A.C.

I started my life's maquillage the way I think everyone probably does - with a heady blend of Mom's cosmetics and cheap stuff from CVS.  As I got older and got, you know, a job, I discovered magical money-sucking stores like Sephora, which had more hardcore cosmetics that worked better and were more exciting.  Makeup is one of the things I firmly believe you should invest in as you can; I don't mean invest as in "everyone should make makeup a priority" but rather "if you're going to wear it, wear the good stuff."  While Sephora is my favorite for a broad selection of cosmetics and for good tips and fun new things, the best single brand I use is M.A.C.  I know Sephora used to carry their products and am not sure why that stopped, but it's probably for the best, Josie's pocketbook wise.  There are two products in particular that I love of theirs, which I'd like to mention here.

Item number one is their nail polish.  I am awful with nail polish on my fingernails.  Apparently I'm just super tough on my nails and spend all my time smashing my hands into things...even salon manicures chip almost immediately and look like I stuck my hand in a wood chipper before the week is out.  But M.A.C. can keep up.  I don't know how and frankly my best guess is "magic" but this stuff stays put like crazy glue.  The colors are all lovely, too...it's one of those things where it might not look like your particular thing, but odds are it will look lovely on.  I kind of gambled on this rum raisiny color, but it looks like a million bucks on, and every "ehhhhh I'll try it" purchase I've made from them has panned out much the same.  They are color experts in a big way, and I can't recommend them on that front enough!

To give my nail polish the best chance at hanging in there, I have kind of a process.  I start by washing my hands and then using either coconut oil or some other kind of moisturizing oil on my hands (I've even used olive oil), focusing on getting it into my cuticles.  I push my cuticles back and sometimes trim them with nail scissors, depending on how industrious I'm feeling.  After that, I file the edges to the shape I want and file the whole surface of the nail.  I think it's this resurfacing that really helps.  Then I put one coat on and let it dry ALL THE WAY.  I follow it up with a second coat, and that's the one I really try to let dry for as long as possible.  Sometimes I use a top coat, sometimes not.  I have been trying too to not worry too much about streaking or light patches at first, because sometimes as coats dry, the color evens out, but if I try to fix it in process, I always screw it up.

The other M.A.C. product I want to recommend is their pigment.  This is a loose powder and again, the key is the beautiful color sensibility.  I use their Rose pigment as a standby - if I'm packing for a trip more often than not it's this, mascara and a lip gloss - and it's amazingly gorgeous and versatile.  It also comes packed SO tightly in the jar...I've had this jar for almost a year and I use it all the time, but look how low it is!  It's more lightly packed now, but damn, that's serious business.  I can see the Rose being beautiful on almost anyone for everyday wear, but they have so many more colors for fun, and they're so worth it.  They aren't even that expensive, only about $20 for a jar.

You can buy all of these cosmetics at M.A.C. or at a counter in Macy's.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Adventures in Linguistics

Act I, Scene 1
JOSIE is headed to New York for a Ladies' Weekend at OLIVIER and JULS' lovely apartment. OLIVIER is leaving town but will have one evening to spend with JOSIE and JULS before leaving for a bachelor party at the END OF THE UNIVERSE. OLIVIER texts JOSIE to discuss arrival times and dinner.

OLIVIER: Hey josie! Excited to see you tonight! Do you have an ETA? Also, I'm trying to plan dinner. I was thinking guacamole and chips to start, then chili and rice. K?
JOSIE: OMG Livvy you are amazeballs!! Cannot wait to see you. I have a meeting at 1, expect it to run an hour, and then head down, so...6 or 7, depending on traffic??
OLIVIER: Great! Does the menu agree with you? Juls thought you may not be a fan of guac...And yes, my balls are amazing. ;)
JOSIE: Ummmm guac is not just a food, but a lifestyle choice for me. Everything sounds fabulous including your balls. lololol
OLIVIER: Perfecto! Wait til I dip them in chili!

Act II, Scene 1
JOSIE continues to prep her legal philosophy presentation in the SCHOOL OF THEOLOGY.  OLIVIER continues to be excited.

OLIVIER: Spicy balls!
OLIVIER: Spicy balls!
JOSIE: Oh my goodness I can HEAR you being overstimulated lol
OLIVIER: I'm trembling with excitement! 9:22 AM
JOSIE: hahahaha oh Livvy it's only been a month and I miss you so
OLIVIER: Ditto! Hurry up and get down here!
JOSIE: On it boss!

Act III, Scene 1
OLIVIER dispenses words of wisdom as JOSIE gets ready to go to class.

JOSIE: I'd tell my law prof to screw but I am terrified of him. I think he's a Highlander I don't want to challenge him.
OLIVIER: Law profs seem terrifying, but they're all fragile souls, otherwise they would be practicing law instead of hiding at a law school. Tell him I said that.
JOSIE: hahaha I will tell him and then give him your address. He's very sweet but his brain is terrifying

Act IV, Scene 1
OLIVIER revolutionizes the English language.  

OLIVIER: Btw, that blog about our wedding was incredible!!! So touching and well-written. You are amaze-vag.


Tuesday, April 17, 2012

On Civility and the Internet

My new tumblr friend Lyssa recently shared an exchange she had with a friend of her mother's via Facebook.  It gave me some thoughts.  First, here's the exchange.

Tricia (6 hours ago):
Curious the reaction I’d get if I challenged your “Obama is the answer” mentality. I am a belligerently proud card carrying Republican who can’t wait for that piece of fecal matter to be evicted from that White Shack down the street. Elmer Fudd, Beavis or Butthead…fuck it even Sponge Bob would have stepped in with about the same amount of qualifications!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tricia (30 minutes ago):
yea, pretty much what i thought! 
Me (just now)
Hey—just got this. 
I don’t think he’s the ~answer~ to everything. He’s done a lot wrong and has screwed up at several major points. However, he’s done a lot of good things, too, and I’d rather have him than any of the other possibles.  
I care about my reproductive rights, I care about being able to marry my partner regardless of their sex, I care about comprehensive sex ed and universal healthcare and uncensored internet. These are things that the GOP has proven time and again that they don’t care about, and that’s not something I can be okay with. 
I’ve said in jest that if a GOP gets elected, I’m moving to Denmark. I think I might have to. I can’t live in a country where the government continues to push women centuries back in their rights. I can’t live in a country where the government believes that racism doesn’t exist anymore. I can’t live in a country where the government would force me to carry the child of my—not one, not two, but three—rapists to term because it’s a “gift from god.” I can’t live in a country where the government would not allow me to seek efficient medical care quickly. 
Cue last night. I went to the ER because I was bleeding profusely. It was my period, but 10 times worse. If the GOP was in charge, my healthcare wouldn’t exist. I wouldn’t have been able to go to the ER and make sure that my IUD hadn’t perforated my uterus and I would probably have bled out. I was fortunate enough only to have to pay $70 out of pocket for that visit, have my girlfriend sit with me and hold my hand and not be denied care, and have a male doctor respectfully poke around down there. I have excellent health care coverage and I will continue to have that because of Obama’s Affordable Care Act. I would not have that under Romney or Santorum. 
I recently had to explain to my grandmother what Planned Parenthood does. As far as she knew, it was an abortionplex. Now, she had no idea that when I was out of school for a year and didn’t have health insurance, I went to Planned Parenthood for gynecological checkups, for a mammogram, for consultation about birth control methods. When I had kidney pain and a potential uterine cyst, I went to Planned Parenthood. Had I needed an abortion, I would have gone there too. Since I managed to get comprehensive sex ed and know how to properly use birth control, my risk for pregnancy was significantly lowered and I didn’t have to do that. Planned Parenthood exists because it’s a necessary thing for lower-income people to get the healthcare they need. Under the GOP, comprehensive sex ed wouldn’t exist. Neither would Planned Parenthood or abortion or half decent healthcare. Romney said one of his first orders of business would be to kill PP and outlaw abortion. Me and millions of women like me won’t be able to get that care, and have their lives threatened by medical conditions that could have been caught early. That is why I am 100% against the GOP. For me, they have no bright side, no redeeming qualities, no endearing charm. Obama’s defended PP and women’s rights. He’s fought for me to make the same amount as a colleague who is male with the same qualifications. He’s signed into law a bill that prevents healthcare discrimination on the basis of sex. He’s at least working toward equal rights for LGBT people. Under his healthcare act, women cannot be denied insurance for a history of domestic violence—which is considered a “pre-existing condition” under many policies today. 
When it comes down to it, I’m a two-issue voter: who’s going to let me have my healthcare when I need it, and who’s going to let me have equal rights under the law based on my sexual orientation. I am perfectly okay with that. 
That’s why your 6 hour ago message just got to me. I went to bed when I got home at 4 am, and woke up around 2. My schedule is erratic. Had I not been to the ER last night and skipped class today, I wouldn’t have seen this until at least 5 pm.
A while later, an update, in the form of a response from Tricia:
Those who are believers in his socialist ideas should relocate! I am TOTALLY okay with that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
 Which earned a response from Lyssa:

There are so many things I could say to this right now, but I really doubt you’d listen. 
A) If you think he’s a socialist, you’ve been sadly misguided as to what socialism actually is. 
B) I appreciate your excessive use of exclamation marks. They really get across how passionate you are about your point. 
C) Thanks for the laugh. I needed it today. 
D) If it bothers you this much, I might just stick around. Besides, the girlfriend’s not particularly keen on moving to Denmark, and we wouldn’t want to deprive the US of the chance to deny another LGBT couple equal rights. 
E) I’ll send your good wishes along to my mother. Hope you’re doing well. 
And then one more from Tricia:
fucking liberals, spare me your attempts at educating me and i’ll spare you an education that you and your small town mind aren’t ready for. you and lewisburg deserve each other. as to your mother…must suck to be her. put that in your LGBT hooka and fire that fucker up.
Most of you can probably guess where I come down on the political issues being discussed here.  Surprisingly, they're not actually what I want to talk about, largely because I am kind of tired of talking about them.  What I want to discuss is the tone of this exchange.  First, I want to commend Alyssa for her response, because if I got a message like that out of the blue (or not...to be fair, I don't know if there was anything leading up to this, but I'd argue it's a shitty message to send regardless), my response would be about 50% profanity and another 20% straight up insults, so Alyssa is a far better woman than I.  But second, I want to point out that this phenomenon of speaking in the tone of "I'm right so I can be as big a jerk as I want" is pervasive and fundamentally damaging to our politics.

I talk a lot of smack about Republicans, and when I say Republicans I generally refer to elected officials because they have no excuse for not considering the ramifications of their crap policies.  Political ideology appeals to the average voter for various reasons and in our bipolar (mostly, anyway) system, it's often a matter of choosing the lesser of two ill-fitting options.  I also know that the average voter is not always in the habit of considering large scale effects of political policies.  We all learn the scope of our choices as we grow politically, and some of those effects can be really hard to see.  But as I said, it is politicians' jobs to know this, so when elected officials promote foul policies that are prejudicial or harmful, that shit is on them, and I feel fine about calling that like I see it.  But when I talk with friends of mine who are conservative or Republican specifically, I think it's my job to be respectful and to take their thoughts and feelings and opinions into serious account and have an actual conversation with them.  That's how politics happens - you have a conversation.  The above is not a conversation.  It is a woman being confrontational and aggressive for no immediately discernible reason.  It accomplishes nothing, and that is evident in her response to Alyssa's response - it's not about a conversation, it's about unleashing your venom on someone.

Anonymity on the Internet is fascinating to me.  There was a point where using the Internet required the use of a handle more often than not, and it's easy to see how it's easier to mouth off at "DerpEye9818375987" than someone in front of you.  That makes sense, particularly when you consider the inherent machineness of computers in this same period - Internet content wasn't nearly as pervasive in real life, computers were always computers (i.e. not phones, tablets, PDAs, etc.), and there was a limit to what you could do on the Internet.  Now, the Internet is everywhere, and there is an app for every damn thing you can think of.  Yet we still cling to an idea that "it's just the Internet," even though as the Internet has integrated with our lives, handles have fallen away and - particularly in the case of Facebook - we use at least some component of our true identities.  It has only become more evident that there are real, live, humans on the other end of the computer, yet we still accept "people are just jerks on the Internet" not only as a reality but as an acceptable reality.  The simple fact of a computer-intermediary removes our social obligation to common courtesy.

One of the hardest things for me to drive home with my students is the reality that there is no solution to politics.  You cannot resolve the big questions of politics and then wipe your hands of them - the biggest questions are ones about how we should live our lives together, and that is never going to get answered.  New science and art will come along, as will new events, and we'll have to figure out how to incorporate that, and sometimes that will require dramatic shifts in our political thought.  How does Piss Christ change the way we think about obscenity?  How does a Roomba affect our ethics?  How do surveillance cameras change our behavior?  How does September 11th change our relationships?  Politics is the process of parsing out all of these questions, and the greatest challenge is not finding a definitive answer but rather remembering that all of us need to work on it together; we need to understand ourselves as equally legitimate  in the political landscape, and to respect each other during the project of political life.  It means not picking fights and resorting to insults.  It means knowing we're all more than words on a page.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Love and New York

This past weekend, I had the supreme pleasure of singing in the wedding of my dear friends Julia and Olivier.  It was nerve wracking and occasionally frustrating and absolutely amazing.  I love singing, and this is the first time I've sung for friends with whom I am this close.  Luckily, I was able to sing the processional - "Ave Maria" - from the side of the altar, thus staving off a complete sobby meltdown upon seeing Juls come down the aisle in her stunning dress.  The ceremony was beautiful and I felt like I was getting a special treat as I sang from the front of the church; looking out at all of the happy faces there to celebrate Juls and Liv's special day made my heart grow three sizes with every hymn and psalm.

I spent that weekend in the company of old friends - Juls, Liv, Ben, Lucy, Katy, Lee, Dan, Tiff - and new ones.  The night before the wedding, Lucy and Lee and I went to see The Hunger Games while we waited for Ben to make his way to New York, then engaged in a traditional Olivier orgy of food and drink.  On the day of the wedding, Liv, Ben and I went on a rescue mission to the post office to pick up presents for the mother and father of the bride that had been trapped there.  (It's not a wedding until you've defrauded a government agency!) Later, I curled my hair perched on the edge of the couch while Ben napped and Katy buzzed around getting ready.  I felt so lucky to share this stunning weekend with people I love so much and for so many reasons.  These are people who know me better than anyone, and who bear me up when all else fails.  I am nothing without my friends.

Normally, any weekend with this group leaves my heart singing, but this weekend in particular was exceptionally stunning.  I felt throughout as though I was in a museum dedicated to love - love of all kinds, of all shapes, of all sizes and details.  From the time I arrived on Thursday for the rehearsal, much was made about the impending clash of cultures - Julia's family is Irish, stoic, dryly hilarious, and somewhat feelings-averse, whereas Olivier's French/Puerto Rican blend is effusive and more or less a whirling vortex of bisous and hugging.  There was only one sure thing: it was going to be spectacular.  And so it was - there were so many moments of beauty in these connections and interactions.  Those two families are definitive proof that love is a many splendored thing.

That's what I thought about, the whole weekend: just how many kinds of love there are, and how many were on display.  The ease of conversation between long-distant family members brought back together.  Little stories about everyday life that shape sisters and parents and children.  The drive to produce an orgy of food for visiting friends the night before your wedding.  Fussing over getting everything perfect for the ones you love; snapping when it isn't, glowing when it is.  Worrying about the welfare of a pigeon who has taken up residence on a balcony in Queens, and her two eggs.  A musical war between inappropriate rugby songs and old Irish songs and, mysteriously, rap.  Unfunny non-jokes made to ease the nervousness.  Shaking hands at the podium.  Hugs and yelling and dancing.  Tears.  Nested hands.  They're all manifestations of love, and it is nothing short of miraculous that so many of these wove a soft blanket around this wedding.  I believe in miracles, yes.

There is one more love that I couldn't help but notice that weekend...the love you can have for a place.  The reception closed with Sinatra's "New York, New York," with the dance floor packed with dangerously-high-kicking friends and everyone singing along.  There are New Yorkers who can be obnoxious about New York, but there is no denying that there is something special about it.  You cannot visit New York and not feel it's frantic, beating heart, even in the quietest neighborhoods, and you cannot, having felt this, question that your time in New York, there in that moment, wherever you are and whatever you're doing, is just one small part in a long, grand, strange, wonderful story that has been written for centuries and will go on for many more.  At 3 in the morning I looked out the window of the Cuckoo's Nest, from the afterparty, and watched Juls laugh with her friends, in her stunning, billowing dress, head sailing back, one small moment in the life of the City but so in control and the sole owner of the night, and thought, "this is a special place."  And it is.

Congratulations, Juls and Liv.  I couldn't be luckier to know you.

Sometimes I Text My Mom from the Train

Me: Were you afraid of Russia in the 80s?
Mom: No
Me: Why not? 
Mom: I was too busy beating you children

Aaaaaaaaaand I snorted out loud on the train and freaked out the lady next to me.  THANKS MOM.  The hits continue...

Me: I'm reading Rachel Maddow's book "Drift: the Unmooring of the American Military" and the first couple chapters are about Reagan's development of a"RUSSIANS ARE SCARY" motif 
Me: Obviously since I was busy being beaten/an infant at the time it's hard for me to know how effective/pervasive it was
Mom: I honestly do not remember being afraid of the Russians. I was more mortified that a B actor was president of my country
Mom: I had no idea what madness lay ahead...
Mom: W!!!!!!!!

Monday, April 9, 2012

The Closest I've Come to Being in a Cult Was Taking a Shower in New Jersey

When I was little, I had to constantly be reading.  When I was eating my breakfast, I was reading the cereal box.  And the milk.  Later, I'd start reading the paper, or a book, or a magazine.  When I was in the shower, I'd read shampoo bottles.  This took an interesting turn when I visited my aunt and uncle's house in New Jersey, because they used Dr. Bronner's Magic Soap, which has a label like this:
Click to enlarge
I took really long showers when I was in New Jersey.

For those who don't have 20 minutes to read this, let me say this: the passage "For one God's Spaceship Earth, with Bomb and Gun we're all-One or none!  All-One!  All-One!  All-One!  Exceptions eternally?  Absolute none!" happens, and it's not even the most frantic thing on there.  Dr. Bronner was an interesting guy, and the company is still run by his family following his death in 1997.  The soap, incidentally, is really good.  It rinses cleanly and it doesn't dry out your skin.  Plus, it's a culty-fun adventure for the whole family!

I grew up with this soap, and as I got older, I realized that Dr. Bronner's Magic Soap was the kind of thing hippie-type folks were prone to having on hand, which makes sense given my context for it.  I recently read about coconut oil being great for your skin (and a million other things; Jenna Marbles sums it up nicely), and wanted to try it - regular readers of this blog may remember that I usually clean my face with olive oil - and someone suggested that Dr. Bronner's was the best place to get coconut oil.  I was disappointed to discover that there is no pseudo-religious babble on the coconut oil container, though it does say "Dr' Bronner's MAGIC 'ALL-ONE'," which I suppose is pretty good.  It IS fair trade and organic, which in reality is probably better than having a bunch of rambling on the label, so it has that going for it.  However, I'm sitting here, having used some Dr. Bronner's coconut oil on my face and some of it in my morning smoothie, about to take my multivitamin and "Women's Treasure" herbal supplement with my nettle infusion as recommended by my herbalist (the fantastic Melanie St. Ours), and I'm kind of realizing that hippie is genetic and there's just no escaping it.  And you know what, I'm cool with that, because since taking my herbs my hair and nails have been super strong and luxurious and my whole life is more balanced, and right now guys my face is as smooth as the most angelic little cherub's butt.  I embrace the hippiedoodlery.

Note on the coconut oil: barring any weird skin freakouts, I will be switching over to coconut oil for everything.  I find that the olive oil still removes makeup a little better.  However, there was always the "smelling vaguely like a salad" aspect of using olive oil, and now I can instead smell like a coconut, which is preferable by far.  Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, I bet you could add in some other essential oil to make a scent you might prefer, as long as you chose something that wouldn't irritate your skin.  The main challenge would be blending it properly; the coconut oil is a solid at regular room temperature, so I guess you could warm the oil in a pot of water (i.e. put the open jar in a pan of water), mix the additional oil in, then let it set up again.  I'm going to try it!  I will report back soon.