No, Meghan Trainor. It IS NOT "All About That Bass".

Women, I want us to stop giving our power to men. I had a completely different post in mind for the past week and my rage about this topic had me succumb and submit this altogether alternative, albeit timely, post instead. If you read no farther, take that first sentence, think about it and how it applies to your life and our society. If you're a man, read it and think about how it applies to every woman you care about, your life and our society.

No, Meghan Trainor...it IS NOT ALL ABOUT THAT BASS. The first time I heard this song, rage was sparked inside of me (and not just because it's a canned pop song, though, trust me, that added to it). In case you're unfamiliar, here are some of the lyrics:

"Yeah, it's pretty clear, I ain't no size two

But I can shake it, shake it

Like I'm supposed to do

'Cause I got that boom boom that all the boys chase

And all the right junk in all the right places."

And, to add insult to injury:

"Yeah, my mama she told me don't worry about your size

She says, 'Boys like a little more booty to hold at night.'

First of all, I must have missed the girl/woman memo that mentioned that we're "supposed to" "shake it". Now, I'm not naive-I know what this means and, to maintain my integrity and honesty, I have "shaken it" like I was "supposed to do". The fact that I, as a woman in my early 20s, knew what that meant (and let's be honest...that was almost 20 years ago, folks...girls younger than 10 know what it means in 2014), is evidence of a powerful societal norm and expectation in the United States. Why is a woman supposed to shake it? Answer: to attract men. A woman is not supposed to be intelligent or speak her mind or be her authentic self...she is supposed to shake it with her main goal the ever coveted "male attention". So what we have here, in one song lyric, is the message that our goal as women should be to attract a man. Again, NOT to be successful on our own terms, to be an individual, whatever that might look like, to love our selves, to strive for authenticity and inner beauty, male attention be damned...as women, we are told these beautiful goals are subservient to that goal of getting a man.

What makes this song even more heinous is that it has somehow been coronated as an anthem for women's self esteem and acceptance of all women's bodies as beautiful. While I agree with the sentiment and wish that all humans possessed self love for their physical, emotional and spiritual selves, this song says nothing of the sort. This song is an example of the innocuous drivel that tells our girls and women their bodies are beautiful, they are okay, ONLY IN RELATION TO MALE WANTS AND DESIRES. At least in the 1950s, it was in your face and could therefore be recognized and disputed outright. This song has millions of young girls fooled into thinking they are liberated and free from societal, mass media driven images of the perfect female body. Sorry to burst your bubble...nowhere in this song does it say that women are beautiful and amazing and powerful and compassionate and intelligent and love in their own right. The only reason, according to this song, that we don't have to worry about our size is IN RELATION TO MALE WANTS AND DESIRES. Gosh, Meghan Trainor...where would we be if boys didn't "like a little more booty to hold"? Back to square, or should I say size, one, I guess.

As a woman who succumbed to this message in her 20s and, as a result, stifled the amazing, beautiful woman who was actually inside of her, I am enraged to the point of shaking when I hear song lyrics and see messages like this. I'm sick and tired of women giving our power to men. We are good and beautiful and amazing whether men find us that way or not...because WE ARE. If that means we never "get a man" because an unenlightened man in our society can't handle us, fuck it. That should be the message we are sending our girls, our young women, our selves. I want someone to write a song about that.

The other deplorable part about all of this is that we don't only give our power over to men on behalf of our physical selves. We do it with our intellect, our creativity, our way of being in the world. We change our selves so we can be successful "in a man's world". We learn to take on traits valued by men so that we will be valued in the world they have created...and yes, in the United States, men have created the political, corporate, religious, academic and agricultural reality we currently live in. Do not doubt that. To succeed in these male created, male dominated systems, women are often forced to abandon feminine traits, their feminine selves. I've witnessed women do it...it kills our souls. The other alternative is to self select occupations and regions and cultures that value female characteristics and ways of being. Shockingly (insert sarcasm here), in the US, these are frequently niche areas such as sustainable agriculture or underpaid occupations such as teaching or social work. At what point are we going to address and be vocal about the real issue? The issue that the system was created BY MEN, FOR MEN, which makes it comparatively easy for men to succeed and most women destined to fail or fail themselves.

Am I happy that women have become CEOs and US Senators? Of course I am. What I am unhappy with is the systemic male bias our society's political, corporate, academic (which is getting pretty close to corporate these days) and religious entities are built on and the seeming unwillingness for these things to be addressed, even by women. Maybe women are too busy shaking it like we're supposed to. Or maybe women have eaten the poison pill surrounded by red velvet cake that is being shoved down our throats with songs like "All About That Bass". Until women are taught to value self beyond our

relationship to male counterparts and until we start to express our discontent at contorting not only our physical bodies, but our emotional and spiritual ones as well, to fit into this world created by men, for men, we will not be fully liberated or fully valued on our own terms.

“To blame victims for crime is like analyzing the cause of World War II and asking, ‘What was Pearl Harbor doing in the Pacific, anyway'?”

I saw the movie Fury this weekend. Fury, as most of you know, depicts a five-man tank crew operating in Germany toward the end of WWII. There are many many things I liked about the movie. I liked how the movie accurately depicted the atrocity of war.  If you thought the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan was raw, let's just say Fury takes it to the next several levels. I liked how the movie portrayed how war changes a person, even if the director did have to demonstrate that change on a compressed time frame due to American audiences' limited attention spans.  I liked how the movie showed how difficult it can be to follow the Law of War in a place where it is killed or be killed. I liked how a real tank, not a prop, was used in the movie. I liked how when WarDaddy (Brad Pitt) said, "Best job I ever had," I believed him and felt that perhaps the audience could get a small sense of why being in the military really is a uniquely special and rewarding experience despite its quite obvious drawbacks. Perhaps what I liked best was how the movie showed that sometimes people we would consider trashy, dickish, unsophisticated, and poor make the best soldiers.  The movie was very thought provoking and I could go on and on about what the movie got right. BUT, because I'm the resident asshole of this blog, I want to discuss the one thing that was horribly wrong with the movie.

There is a scene where, after taking the town, the US soldiers celebrate. Prostitutes and alcohol and smokes are consumed with reckless abandon. WarDaddy and another soldier named Norman, go into an apartment where they find a woman. The woman is hiding her young cousin and tells WarDaddy it is because she was afraid.  WarDaddy and Norman remain in the apartment and give the women eggs to cook. In the apartment, the sohnds of the party below are heard. Breaking bottles, gun shots, screams, moans, and other sounds of general debauchery waft into the apartment. At one point, Norman plays the piano and the younger girl sings. After the song, WarDaddy tells Norman, "She's a good, clean girl. If you don't take her into that bedroom, I will. " Into the bedroom they go (after Norman grabs his gun).  The older woman walks to the door, presumably to check on the girl or prevent what is inevitably going to happen, but WarDaddy stops her. He says, "No. They are young and they are alive." Not surprisingly, Norman has sex with the girl and eventually the girl and he emerge from the bedroom smiling. The audience found this scene funny.  So why didn't I? Am I some sort of fun-hating, morally righteous ball buster? Possibly, quite possibly I am, but that's not why I found the scene displeasing.

The big issue I had with this scene is that in a realistically visceral and violent movie, this scene was totally and utterly unrealistic. The ludicrous fantasy this scene portrayed stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the harsh realism that dominated the film.  What I mean is that the sex between Norman and the young girl was portrayed as being consensual, and thus, comical when the two youngsters emerged all grins. But, from my perpective, there was no way in hell that sort of a situation could ever lead to true consensual sex. Why not? The girl didn't scream, cry, fight or otherwise resist. Ergo, according to prevailing sentiment, it must have been consensual, right? Well, let's examine that belief. If we know that the girl didn't put up a fight, what else, other than consent could explain that? Well, how about what the other people in the room were doing and implying? Haven't we, up until this point, only looked at what one person was doing or not doing? What about the other party to the transaction, you know, the one who committed the sex act? Why havent we looked at what the other party to this tryst was doing?  If this were a drug transaction,  would we only be concerned with what the buyer was doing or wouldn't we also look at who was selling the drugs? 

Sex crimes are the only crimes where we focus primarily on the victim's behaviors instead of the alleged criminal's actions. Thus, if a victim doesn't resist hard enough or scream loud enough or use the magic word NO enough, that means no crime occurrred. What? Really?  Such a one-sided perspective leaves out the other half of the sexual encounter-the one who is alleged to have committed the crime. And sex crimes are the only crimes we approach in this fashion.

For example, if a person is robbed, as a society we don't ask why the person didn't fight back.  Can you imagine questioning a robbery victim as to why they didn't try to fight off the robber or why they didn't try to wrestle their wallet out of a robber's hands?  In fact, we train people (like bank tellers) to NOT fight back if they are robbed at work.  Contrast this with, if a person is being sexual assaulted, we expect the utmost resistance out of that person and if they don't, we blame them. I have also never heard of the police questioning a robbery victim about what he or she was wearing. For example, if a man is wearing a rolex watch, a $2,000.00 suit and drives a Mercedes, isn't he asking to get robbed? No? Wasn't he just asking for it by advertising his wealth? What about someone who puts their 60 inch TV up so that it can be seen through a window? Doesn't that person really want her TV to be stolen? Shouldn't we be questioning her why she would put her TV up for all to see if she really didn't want it to get jacked? We don't, however, because such lines of thought are illogical. No one wants their TV to be stolen simply because they mounted it on a wall.  No one wants to be robbed simply because they wear fancy clothes and accessories. Yet, these illogical assumptions are made routinely in sex crimes. I believe it is just as illogical when applied to sex crimes. A woman who dresses sexy no more wants to be sexually assaulted than a rich guy in a tailored suit wants to be robbed. But how many times and in how many ways do we teach our daughters how not to get raped, like it is all within their control? How many times have we given the same instruction about how not to get robbed? Taking it one step further, how many times do we instruct our sons on how not to get raped? You see, it is only the women who are blamed for rape. The same crime does happen to men but we aren't instructing the men on how to not be raped. But from the time we are tweens, women learn how not to get raped which implies if we do get raped it was our fault. Don't go out alone at night. Go to the bathroom with a friend. Don't drink too much. Carry mace. Don't dress sexy. Don't go home with strangers. Look under your car before you get in it. The list goes on and on. What do men do to not get raped?  In a course I was at where this question was asked one man replied, "Don't go to prison." Touche. That is the extent of the guidance we give men on how not to get raped.  Only women get the laundry list and, correspondingly, the Lion's share of the blame. I'm reminded of this quote that I once saw posted on a bulletin board on an Army base: "To blame victims for crime is like analyzing the cause of World War II and asking, ‘What was Pearl Harbor doing in the Pacific, anyway?"

So let's re-examine what the soldiers were doing in the sex scene in Fury. Perhaps that will illustrate why I found the portrayal of the sex as consensual patently offensive. First, two soldiers bust into an apartment with guns and find two unarmed women who make clear they are afraid of the soldiers. The soldiers order the women to get hot water and make themselves at home. The entire time, the guns are within arms reach of the soldiers. One of the soldiers makes clear someone is going to screw the girl. The soldier who is going to do the job takes a gun into the room with him. All this, and we are supposed to believe the sex was consensual just because we didn't see tears or hear screams? I don't think so. I know movies aren't always realistic so perhaps I should've let this go. But in a movie where realism infused every single scene, I have to wonder how, or better yet, why the sex scene was so damned wrong.

From a senior to freshmen: enjoy it all

Since I’m a senior (fortunately and unfortunately) and have been having every sort of mixed feeling about graduating in May, I decided it would be appropriate to blog about what advice senior me would give to freshmen me, as well as other newbies entering the college world. 4 years goes really fast (You won’t believe this until you’re beginning your senior year) and A LOT happens within those 4 years, so I could literally ramble on about what wise, intelligent senior Krissie would give to naïve, young, freshmen Krissie; but instead, I will just give my top 10. So, here goes:

 

1)      Not every moment in college is going to be that totally awesome, fun filled moment you see in the movies.

-You’re in college, you’re not in a movie that eliminates every experience that doesn’t glamorize the crazy party college scene. It’s OKAY to not feel overly ecstatic and happy all the time. One thing college has taught me is that you will be exposed to and experience literally every emotion in the book, good and bad. You will go from absolutely loving your life to questioning every aspect about it within a matter of seconds. You will feel sad, angry, self-conscious and fearful, and that is OKAY because although college is really fun and meant to be made the most of, we are still human beings living this rollercoaster of a ride I like to call life.

                2) You will obtain some of the best knowledge outside of the classroom.

-Some of the most valuable life lessons and life experiences I have learned and experienced were not in Calculus or Anthropology. They were from interacting with new people, making mistakes, traveling, being an idiotiotic college student, being a responsible college student, taking chances and having fun. Get your shit done, but don’t let a beautiful, unique experience pass you by in the meantime.

3) Go to class.

                - That being said, referring to point number 2, go to class. Go to the lecture of 100 plus people even though the professor doesn’t take attendance and puts up the lectures online. You can always get more out of the class by actually listening to the professor because there are many things he/she will say that may not be in the lesson plan. You can get to know your professor and his or her teaching style which will help you out in the long run. Above all, lectures are typically no longer than an hour, pull your lazy ass away from your bed and go.

4) Establish good, healthy habits while you’re young.

                - You may be able to maintain your slender physique now, but depending on when your metabolism decides to use the shitter, it WILL catch up to you. Living off of Ramen noodles and pizza bites can be a great thing and even a financial saver, but it is not a sustainable way of living. Once again, turn off the t.v. and hit the gym and limit the Ramen and pizza bites and replace them for a bag of frozen veggies more often.

5) If you don’t fit the mold, don’t try and force yourself to fit it.

                - Simply put, there are many things that you will be exposed to during college. People will drink themselves into oblivion, try many new drugs, and have lots of sex with random people. This does not have to be you. If this isn’t your scene, don’t allow it to be your scene. It’s just another pressure put on us by the media in what college “should” look like.

6) Try new things and embrace the uncomfortableness of them.

                - Study abroad in a foreign country, join a new club, go shooting with a friend at her hometown shooting range for a weekend; you will be offered to participate in many new and exciting adventures during the next four  years and it is all too easy to say no because it may be uncomfortable at first. Trust me, once you get past the uncomfortableness, these experiences will be some of the best you experience throughout college and allow you to bring a whole new ray of stories to the dinner table.

7) College does not give you an excuse to be a complete idiot.

                - Yes, make the most out of your college experience, but realize that the choices you make may have an impact on you for the rest of your life. STDs, a child, and a shitty legal record are things that will follow you forever. One night of fun is not worth a lifetime of consequences.

8) Learn how to manage your finances.

                - Once again, college is a safety net from the real world, but when you’re done, the real world is ruthless. Don’t spend these four years having mommy and daddy managing your bank account without having the slightest idea of how to pay your own bills, car insurance, or being ignorant with saving and managing your own money. College will end and the grip of mommy and daddy’s hands will loosen. Be prepared to go out on your own and understand the difference between the subsidized and unsubsidized student loans you will begin to pay off.

9) Accept that people will come and go out of your life.

                - People will constantly be entering and leaving your life depending on which phase of your life you are in. You will meet both awesome and not-so-awesome people, but regardless once they have fulfilled their purpose in your life, it will be time for them to move on. This can suck and be painful, but understand that with every exit, there will always be many new people to enter your life bringing you joy, stress, anger and happiness. There are 8 billion people on this earth, hell, give yourself the opportunity to meet them all.

10) No one knows what they’re doing with their life after college. Literally, no one.

                - So you’re a sophomore and you haven’t figured out your major OR it’s the day before graduation and you don’t have a job lined up, BIG deal. You’re not alone because everyone else is in the same boat shitting their pants. Remind yourself that you are only 20 some and that you have your whole life ahead of you to figure that out. You will have many experiences to live and shape you which will lead you to the life you are supposed to live. Stress, but don’t overstress about it.

Jumping for Joy

The following post is a subject that I think about often, and it is one that I have been wanting to write about for some time. Honestly, it will probably make an appearance a couple of times in this blog.

My birthday was this past Thursday. I had to work all day at my regular job Thursday, and then I had to teach class until 9:30 PM, so I couldn’t really celebrate it on the actual day. Some of my close friends asked me what I wanted to do to celebrate in lieu of plans on my actual birthday, and almost without thinking, I said, “I want to go to the pumpkin patch!” And so we made plans to go to the pumpkin patch this weekend.

Giant Jumping Pillow...
Had to remove boa as a safety precaution!

I was excited all week for the pumpkin patch. When the day came, I decided to wear a Halloween T-shirt, along with a purple feather boa. I mean, if you are going to the pumpkin patch for your birthday, you should do it in style, right?! I loaded up in the car with four other friends, and off we went to Center Grove Orchard.

We arrived, and I had a great time. We looked at all the animals…we watched the pig races…we raced down the giant slide…we jumped on the giant jumping pillow….we wandered around the corn maze…and of course, we traipsed around the pumpkin fields. I had a fantastic day celebrating my birthday and the loveliness of fall with my friends.

However, I am a bit perplexed by a couple of incidents I noticed in relationship to other adults. Many of the other adults present were there with children, and I noticed that while they encouraged their children to participate in the activities, they seldom participated in them themselves. For example, they would watch them jump on the jumping pillow, but they would stay on the sidelines. They also would help lead their kid up to the top of the giant slide, but instead of going down with the child, they would send their kid off, and they would walk away.

Now, I understand that not everyone loves to go bouncing around on a giant pillow, and I do not want to force them to do so.  I also understand that perhaps they had their hands full with other kids and this prevented them from completely engaging in all of the activities. However, I DO find it difficult to believe that there were not ANY other adults present at the pumpkin patch that wanted to participate in these activities. If this is true, what was stopping them from joining with their kids in the fun?

Before I go on my diatribe, I would also like to relay a similar story. Prior to this weekend, one of my acquaintances asked me what my plans were for my birthday, and I told her about the pumpkin patch. She looked at me with her eyes wide, and she told me, “Oh my gosh. I have been wanting to go, but my friends didn’t want to go with me. They were embarrassed to go without any kids with us.”

I find both of these attitudes confusing and heartbreaking. As I stated earlier, I understand that not everyone is as enthusiastic as I am about jumping on pillows and riding down slides. However, my concern is that there are people that ARE enthusiastic about these events, but they are unwilling to let themselves engage in these activities. Do adults think that they need children as buffers for their entertainment? Do they simply live vicariously through their children in order to enjoy these activities? And then if they don’t have children, they don’t even let themselves enjoy the activity because of the perceived shame and embarrassment associated?

I find this to be completely and utterly ridiculous, not to mention detrimental to our own sense of health and well-being. Sliding down a giant slide is an incredible release of spontaneous joy; it’s an expression of pure delight in a thrilling sensation.  Looking at pigs run around a track is a experience of pure amazement. Wandering around a corn maze is an invitation to imagination as you consider all of the possibilities lying before you. Why would someone hesitate to fully invest in these experiences?

Moreover, I am concerned about the message that this sends to children. The implicit message is, “Enjoy life while you are a kid, but when you are an adult, life is meant to be lived on the sidelines.” I do not want to send this implicit message to any child. Life should be joyous at all ages, and we should be encouraging our kids to continue to participate and create as they grow older. Life is more enjoyable this way, and it also encourages us to experience the joy on our own terms, as opposed to living vicariously through others. 

I am now 29 years old. I have a retirement account. I know how to cook. I work full-time for hospice, and I have watched more people die and pass into eternity than I sometimes care to remember. I also teach part-time for Simpson College. By society’s standards, I am clearly a responsible adult. And. And. And I am also a human being that wants to take delight in living. I dress up in costume for a day at the pumpkin patch. I’ve been known to still do cartwheels, especially when I am on a dance floor and I can’t think of any other dance moves. I clap my hands when I’m excited. I can display many behaviors traditionally associated with a child, AND I can also function as a professional adult. Like most things in life, the two roles are NOT mutually exclusive. 

My wish for everyone is that they would find joy and wonder at life at every age. That they can participate and create in their experiences and take delight in the opportunity. Maybe it’ll be different for everyone, but my wish is that we always look at the world in some form of radical amazement. The wonder and joy are always there; we just have to be willing to get outside of ourselves to find it.

"Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement...to get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed." - Abraham Joshua Heschel

I Choose Alesch

Let me begin by saying what a HUMUNGO honor it is to be invited as a guess blogger. I've finally made the D list!!

From A to Z (Alesch to Zabot), here is the story, albeit disjointed, ruminative and at times, plain raunchy…and the truth will be told.

We begin with the trip from Boston with yours truly TRULY and Molly (aka, Smalls Balls, Minnie Mouse, etc.). Fine flight with Naomi yapping away, per usual, and Molly diplomatically not using the “knee-saver”, thereby keeping good relations with the family in front of us…despite the fact that the child was playing on his IPAD with the volume turned way up.

All’s smooth sailing (or flying, as the case may or might be), and into the taxi we jump.  Facetime giggles and nebulous references to the zany days to come fill me with anticipation, apprehension, and downright fear. I’d been assigned to keep one particular sister in check for the entire weekend, and a bigger ball buster I’ve yet to meet. The fear of god is nothing next to what I was feeling.

Arrival at the hotel all fine and good and then Little Miss Molly wants a mani-pedi and breakfast food. The lovely hotelier with owl eyes pointed us in some direction and off we went. Still smooth, no untoward events taking place. Post mani-pedi and we’re back at the hotel to meet up with the remaining sisters. I’d never been in the same room with more than two of the Alesch girls at a time. If I’m being completely honest here, I almost thought that Molly has only one sister who was pretending to be a different sister every time I met yet ANOTHER one. So similar and so different. Yes, dissident indeed. 

Over the next couple of days, more friends came and left and joined in the festivities – ball games, dining, dancing and of course, a little drinking. I’m not a woman of few words, so it’s difficult for me to not write pages and pages about the weekend. I love Jill’s encapsulation, 1-5. I can do no more justice to the story than say this: to allay my ensuing fear, I repeated Jill’s mantra to myself often“sack the f-k up , Naomi”, and closing my eyes, ignored the cloak of apprehension which veiled me in premonitions of t-shirts with obscene words and images and of weepy confessions of love, lustful devotion and sublime admiration. 

The overriding purpose of my blog is to point out the beautiful differences and similarities between the sisters. The similarities – all of the Alesch daughters are highly moral individuals, intent on making changes in the world, however small or large, and always pursuing further educating themselves in some capacity. Intellectual energy abounds. Compassionate, diplomatic and so very very kindhearted…though one might think her heart is black as coal, it’s only a veneer to hide the gold. She’s cynical enough to protect the gold and expose it only when absolutely necessary. We all know its there. 

The differences. Let’s start with the baby. At times, one would think she is the eldest. Kristen might have survived on absinthe fumes and 3 hours of sleep per night recently in her life, but a more level-headed party girl, I’ve yet to meet. A cutie pie who will make out with a guy to win a bet, wear overalls in the big city just because her sister asked her to, and snores louder than yo’ momma does, Kristen is the epitome of sensibility and kindness wearing the guise of morning-after, eye-liner smeared slut. 

Anne. Anne is the wanderer. With a penchant for sleeping until noon if the blinds are pulled, and meandering up foreign staircases to look for good napping spots, Anne knows how to wander off no matter where you put her…baseball game, church, dueling piano bar. This lovely lady, besides being a two-fer acting as marrying minister AND sister to the bride, is the embodiment both intellectual and physical curiosity. In a perfectly rational and unpredictably exciting way. 

Though Molly ought to be next, since she is my absolute favorite, I’ll wax poetic at the end. And on and on and on…. 

NEXT: JILL….omigod. Terrified of Jill. Californication. Marcy Runkle. Need I say more? For anyone who has never watched the show, check it out. Marcy Runkle in terms of presentation only. No other aspects of Marcy’s life are Jill. Jill, I hope, takes this as the highest of compliments. I wish I had a lifeline to Jillification. Whenever I’m feeling unsure or defeated in some way, all I would have to do is pick up my lifeline and hear Jill’s beatific vocal chords singing to me : SACK THE FUCK UP, NAOMI! Jill is the harbinger of all that is good and pure and smart smart smart funny channeled through the most caustically vulnerable limited edition 99% man outside of Hayseed land. Jill has the virility and desire to entertain the guys at a bachelor party using only her wit and anatomically bizarre fashion sense. Suffice it to say, as the most vocal of the group, much can be written about Jill, but we’ll save it for the post –wedding guest blog. 

Amy. Ah, Amy. The lovely Amy. Amy who manages to sneak Italian pastries into a Bruins game…with the security guard’s permission, a nip into the ball game with nobody’s permission, and is ready to beat up anybody who questions Jill’s 99%ism. Amy is the calm before the storm that is the Alesch ladies. Amy is a high roller with the look of a low-baller. Amy is the mosquito who bites the victim while the male mosquito buzzes and distracts and eventually meets its demise. And I mean mosquito in the sexiest sense of the word.  

And so we’ve come full circle, and back to the middle again, to introspect on my Molly my love. Molly is the perfect girl. She’s beautiful and smart. Kind and genuine. Funny. Quiet when appropriate. And loud….so loud when appropriate. Judgmental when necessary, diplomatic and pro-active, she powers through it all and is always a ray of sunshine. Molly is a zelig…she fits in no matter where she is. Amongst the bachelorette princesses in their little gowns and tiaras, Molly shone like a star, with her completely shredded jeans and t-shirt, dancing with her sisters. One of whom appeared to have morphed into Rambo. The other of whom was either professing her love to someone or threatening to fight anyone who would insult another sister’s honor. 

Love Love Love. Lots and lots of laughter. That’s what the weekend in Chicago was. A celebration of the richness of the bonds between the Alesch women and those of us who are lucky enough to have forged separate bonds with them individually. Every day I am grateful for the 86,400 I have to spend in any way I wish. I choose Alesch.

"Plans or no plans, keep a little space in your heart for the improbable. You won't regret it."

I love this quote from Elizabeth Warren. This week, I have been contemplating the improbable and what it means to me.  One of the interpretations I have come up with is that the improbable is that place where life surprises you when your best laid plans go awry. It is there, in this space, that life can hand out unexpected miracles and leave us astonished.  When we plan, think, perseverate and then plan some more, arduously sticking to the course we have charted in our myopic minds, we leave no room for these spontaneous gifts of joy from the universe.

I think that myself and all of my sisters had one of these surprises the weekend of September 5. It is also the reason we have been incommunicado for over a week. You see, the true middle child in our family-Molly- is getting married.  We held her bachelorette party in Chicago Sept. 5-7. All five of the sisters and four of Molly's friends descended upon the city for baseball, booze and bar hopping. There were a multitude of improbable, spontaneous and unplanned moments that transpired over the weekend. So much so, I think, that no one was able to easily slip back into our planned, regimented and otherwise relatively stable lives, including writing for this blog.

It is with all seriousness that we apologize for our lengthy hiatus but we assure you, dear reader, that we are back from our weekend of improbable celebration and that we will do our best to get back on track. Although we are sorry we missed a post or two, we don't regret it. It was a good reminder to all of us that sometimes, the universe has other ideas for us and that these improbable situations often turn out to be the ones that become legend. No good story ever started with, "Every plan I made worked out perfectly...."

I'm sure by now, you might be wondering what in the world happened at this epic party that took nearly two full weeks to recover from. Well, unfortunately, I can't give you all the details. However, a guest blogger, and friend of the bride to be, is going to write a guest blog on her observations of the 5 Alesch girls next week. So until then, just to give you a little taste, here are the top five improbable moments from my perspective. If they don't leave you wanting to know the full story, I don't know what will :)

5. You really can make a homemade half shirt with a pair of fingernail scissors.
4. You can do anything you want as long as you are wearing a bandana.
3.  Sometimes calling someone an assfuck is a good choice.
2.  "It's Raining Men," can extend the life of a party indefinitely.
1. You can walk around Chicago with 99% of your pants shredded and not get noticed.

Enjoy and we will be back with you next week!

Part II: Time is Love (aka "The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it." ~ Henry David Thoreau)

Ironically, I would not have heard the story of "The Magic Bank Account" had I not learned, and eventually internalized, its message earlier in my life. For me, the learning and the internalization were two very separate events and times in my life. I'd like to take the time to share these moments, and the journeys I went through, with you.

In what seems like a previous life, though this was just five years ago, I pursued my Ph.D. I was in my second year of my Ph.D program and, as such programs seem to necessitate, my life was imbalanced and skewed towards constant work in academia. I had a long term partner at the time-we lived together and his mom and I were close, although she lived out of state.

Near the end of summer (2009), she'd been in the hospital dealing with an infection after a polyp removal and we had just been to see her a couple of weeks earlier, after she came home from the hospital. At the beginning of the fall academic semester, she called me and left a message to call her back-she'd been thinking of me. I felt I was "too busy" to talk at the time and put off calling her back.

Less than a week after she left that message on my voicemail, my partner called me in tears, telling me that his mom, my close friend, who filled motherly roles for me in my life, had died that morning. It was completely unexpected-her hospital stay had not been serious-and there was no indication her death was imminent. Words cannot express my heart wrenching grief, my sense of loss, my anger and my feeling that an unfair amount of time that had been stolen from her and me. Reading back over these words-they seem so impersonal and unexpressive but I know no other way to write them.

It was a long time before I could answer the phone when one of my family members called without feeling panicked and anxious that someone else I loved had been taken from me. She was the first person in my life to die who I was truly close to. I'd experienced death before but not the death of someone close.

I felt like I had emotionally had the wind knocked out of me. The fragility of our human lives became vividly stark. I returned to my Ph.D program and academia a different person-I had learned a lesson. For me the lesson was that there was nothing in my life more important than the people I loved and my relationships with people. There was nothing more important than living my life and loving the people in it, whatever that meant for me at the time and moment I was in. There was nothing more important than relationships and love, period. Of course, this is always tempered with constraints-let's just acknowledge those here and move on. My point is that I had learned what was most important to me and I couldn't go back to being "all in" academia 24/7 at the expense of everything else I cared about. Turns out, this made me a pretty crappy Ph.D student-I didn't care more about academia than my relationships and living my life and it was eventually why I left my Ph.D program with the status ABD (All But Dissertation).

So, like I said earlier, I learned the lesson at this point...and I did make life choices and decisions based on this lesson. I feel I did not truly internalize this lesson (or maybe I needed a reminder) until this spring. I didn't leave academia until Spring 2013. I tried my best to be balanced while I was in academia (this will likely be the topic of another blog or possibly a scathing book) and I truly think this is an impossibility as academia exists today. I still missed trips and weekends with my family and friends.

After I left academia, I was disillusioned and a little in limbo. I patched four part time jobs together and went from there. I ended up doing the same thing to myself. I was so busy being anxious about having enough money (because I was working part time jobs) and running around getting to and from all of my jobs that my life again became imbalanced. Same score, different game.

I was miserable and I was not the person I knew I was. There were times I acted like an asshole to the people I love. I didn't love myself much anymore and I certainly couldn't very well love other people. After what was probably one of the biggest asshole moments of my life, I decided something had to give and it wasn't going to be me or my relationships or the love and beauty I carry inside of me.

I quit two of my part time jobs-I kept my jobs as a barista and a server at a wine bar. Those two jobs allow me to give time and love to people and I receive it in return ten-fold. I have so much more time for myself and the people I love, the people who bring joy and support to my life. I am one of those people-I need time from myself, for myself, too.

I still worry about money sometimes-when those times come, I tell myself that worrying is also depriving me of my precious time here on earth. I

f the time comes that I can't be financially responsible for myself and my wants/needs, I'll figure something else out. I've made it this far.

What I do know is that there are things I won't sacrifice and time for myself and my relationships is one of them. I truly believe the most precious gift we give people is our time and undistracted attention. "The Magic Bank Account" is an impactful and forceful reminder about the two most precious commodities we have-time and love. For me, time is love and if I forget, I hope (I know!) the universe will be there with the proverbial 2x4 upside the head to remind me.

"The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it." ~ Henry David Thoreau

It is all too easy to get caught up in the rat race of "busy" and "stress" and measuring our wealth in dollar signs instead of minutes. Changing my perspective and the units I measure wealth in has been positively life changing. We are all richly blessed with the only wealth we truly have-TODAY. This post is dedicated to all of my relationships-no matter the length of the encounter- and the time and love, the veritable wealth, I have given and received. Thank you all for making me blessedly rich.