The Difference Between 'Equity' and 'Equality'

24 March 2021, Edited to Add: Hi! If you enjoy this post and would like to use the activity I described in a classroom or small group setting somewhere, please feel free! If you would like to use this post, please cite it correctly to give due credit to me as the author. If you would like to contact me about anything else regarding this post, please feel free to email me directly at LaraDavid.blog@gmail.com. Thanks!

Pay attention, folks, because this lesson is important. It's important for feminism, for humanity, for respect and tolerance. So read closely, because I don't get this fired up over nothing. There's this activity I do in my class. All the students sit in a circle, and I ask everyone to take off his or her left shoe and throw it into a pile in the center. Once the shoes are all piled up, I begin re-distributing them, one to each student, completely at random. Then I tell everyone to put on the new shoes. And inevitably, there begin the complaints. "This isn't my shoe!" "It's too big!" "It's too small!" "This doesn't fit me!" Whatever the specific complaints are, very few students are actually happy with their newly mismatched pair of shoes. "What's wrong?" I ask. "I did everything fairly. You all have two shoes - one for your right foot and one for your left." "But Miss David," they say, "they aren't the correct shoes!" "Oh," I say. "You want the shoes that are best for each of you individually? Not just any shoe I find?" "Yes!" they all say. "But," I say, with furrowed brow, "that doesn't seem fair. I wanted to treat you all EQUALLY." I point to a boy with somewhat large feet, and a nearby girl with smallish feet. "He'll have more shoe than you will," I note. And without a doubt, someone unknowingly gets right to the heart of the issue: "It doesn't matter who has more shoe, Miss David. It matters that we all have the right shoes for us." And THAT, my friends, is the difference between equity and equality. Equality means everyone gets exactly the same outcome - two shoes - without regard to individual differences - large or small feet, for example. Equity means everyone gets the same quality of outcome - shoes that fit their individual needs. A lot of feminist arguments are either poorly worded, claiming to desire equality for women in situations where they would actually prefer equity, or misunderstood as demanding equality when they are, in fact, demanding equity. This has become remarkably apparent to me in the recent barrage of posts about women bloggers and how they earn - or fail to earn - respect for their work. Catherine wrote this in her MamaPop post: What is radical about it is that we push on, demanding to be heard, and demanding recognition of our worth as mothers, women, writers, business-people, innovators, people, against the ignorance of those who would keep us down. Some have interpreted this as a half-hearted and hypocritical demand for equality, when it is actually anything but. Demanding recognition as mothers and women sort of fundamentally requires an expectation that we will not be treated exactly the same as a man would. Why would we want to be treated exactly like men anyway? In case you didn't notice, WE'RE NOT MEN. What we're demanding is not equality - it's equity. We demand respect for doing a damn hard job and doing it well. We demand respect for creating a community that inspires and uplifts in the face of some of life's greatest challenges. We demand respect for refusing to compromise our femininity in the face of professional obstacles. We don't demand the EXACT SAME RESPECT that men receive - that's like demanding everyone wear the same shoes, regardless of size. We demand the respect that is most fitting to our stations, but damn it, we still demand the respect. We are women, and we should be treated as women - to do otherwise would be to ignore plain facts. But being treated as women should not automatically mean being treated as less serious or less important, and that's the problem with having an article about our work in the field of blogging - which really is primarily a technological field - placed in the "Style" section of the New York Times. We are not screaming our heads off to be placated with promises of equality. We are not men - do not treat us as men. We are women, and we demand equity.

Read More Than Just the First Sentence

In some ways, going to BlogHer08 reminded me of high school.

WAIT! DON'T GO!

I know, some of you reading (I'm looking at you Ms. Send Chocolate) are thinking, "Not another post whining about how BlogHer is like high school!" But a) this post is not whining about anything, and b) I promise there are legitimately worthwhile thoughts in here if you just read on.

A lot has been said on this subject, and I've been debating with myself about whether throwing in my two cents is really worth it. But I eventually accepted that I had wanted to write this post before I read any of the negative stuff out there, because it really was on my mind. I'm not going to let the fact that other people got melodramatic and - maybe it's harsh, but it's true - whiny about the conference stop me from blogging something I want to blog.

When I was in high school, I was not technically in "the cool crowd;" I was, however, really damn close by my senior year. I was one of "the smart kids" - the kids who took all the honors and AP classes and were on the fast track to great four-year colleges. Being one of "the smart kids" automatically excluded you from being in "the cool crowd" at my high school, so I was never going to be truly popular.

But here's the thing: I hung out with the popular kids. I went to their parties. I stayed in their hotel suites after formals and got drunk with them. (That guy with me in the dance photo? He was voted "Most Attractive." I kid you not.) I wasn't doing that stuff because I liked tagging along with them - I did it because they invited me. They liked me. And I liked them. I bet there were some kids at my school who would have said I *was* in the cool crowd, or I *was* popular. Hell, I was a runner-up for Prom Queen for crying out loud! But none of this changes the fact that when it comes down to it, I WAS NOT IN THE COOL CROWD. I just wasn't.

I wanted to be. At the time, I even considered "dumbing down" and taking fewer "smart kid" classes. (Yeah, I was swimming in self-esteem issues in those days.) But eventually, I decided that my life would be better in the long-run if I stayed true to myself and enjoyed my sideline popularity. Most of those popular kids were sweet and friendly, and I learned to enjoy their friendship from my separate status.

I feel that my place in the blogosphere now is similar to my place in the social ladder in high school. I'm not one of "the cool kids" and people don't put me on top 100 lists of the "popular" bloggers. I know who those bloggers are, though, and I like them. I think they're amazing women (and the occasional amazing man) with talent and verve and important things to say. So I read them, and I talk to them (via email and comments), but I don't ever expect to be one of them. I expected to go to BlogHer, meet them, and have them be friendly but a bit distant. After all, I'm not really their friend. I'm not really one of them.

Boy, howdy, was I stupid.

Hi, I'z Lara and sumtimes I'z not so smrt.

It was just like my high school experience all over again. The "popular" bloggers were totally friendly and welcoming. When I talked to my mom at one point late in the weekend, I explained it this way: "I keep falling in with the cool crowd and I'm not totally sure how that keeps happening." After reflecting on it some more, I know exactly how it kept happening - I had genuine conversations with other human people who didn't act like bitchtastic robots and turn me away for no good reason. Why would they? Did some of them occasionally have somewhere else to be? Yes. Did one of them maybe have to ignore me to care for an infant once or twice? Yes. Did they have honest-to-goodness friendships with other women that were deeper than the acquaintanceship they shared with me? Yes. Did any of that make me feel insecure and unloved? NO.

I ate lunch with Bossy and OTJ and Redneck Mommy and Yvonne. I danced at Ruby Skye with Moosh in Indy and Mocha Momma and Jennster. I ended up in a picture with Her Bad Mother and Sweetney and Ali. (And a picture with Mom-101, too, if you'll kindly look to your left.) Hell, Sweetney flat-out dragged people over to meet me and hear me tell them a story (it's long and complicated, but it involves me telling Sweetney that she is awesome because she's preventing a Ray Bradbury-esque dystopia from forming around us) - people like Amalah, for example. All these people tend to show up on the lists when people try to categorize bloggers as "cool" and/or "popular," but they never snubbed me, they never judged me, they never asked me to show site credentials to prove I deserved a little bit of their time or conversation. I'm not one of them, but they like me.

At this point in my life, that matters a lot more to me than actually being one of the "popular" bloggers. Oh, sure, I'd love to have hundreds of comments on every post, and I'd love even more to make gobs of money from this blog and never have to work again. But I'm certainly not going to change who I am, and I'm not going to let it keep me up at night. I'm honored that there are women and men out there who think I'm a damn fine writer, and who find my thoughts and feelings interesting enough to share here with me. And I'm grateful for the relationships that I *do* have with the "popular" bloggers - not because of their popularity, but because of their personality.

So yes, BlogHer reminded me of high school. It reminded me that popularity is a lot of perception, and that I have worthwhile contributions to make.

Even to the cool kids.

Just More Ways to Introduce Myself, Really

Today is a beautiful summer Saturday in sunny California. I know this because I can see it through the windows of my classroom, where I am cooped up with an unbelievable workload and no end in sight. Nothing like a bright blue sky to say, "Hey, loser! Betcha wish you hadn't picked such a hard career path NOW!" Well, actually, Blue Sky, I'm quite happy with my chosen profession, thankyouverymuch. I just wish I felt a little more confident in my abilities to do well in it.

At any rate, while I'm digging my way through the lesson plans and test questions and books I've never read (but somehow have to teach), I have two memes for you. WAIT! I know there are some of you out there - don't lie - who see the word meme and roll your eyes, going, "Oh, GAWD, not another meme! I hate those damn things..." But hey, they're not all bad, and really, since I have tons of new readers out there (Hi, Twitter followers! Hi, visitors from Her Bad Mother! Hi, BFF attendees!), it's another good way for folks to get to know me a little better. Really. It's not just laziness on my part.

Ahem.

The first meme comes from the beautiful Brooke of oh my seven. The rules are simple: Go to someecards.com (motto: “When you care enough to hit send”) and pick 5 cards that describe yourself in amazingly unflattering ways. Since I already loved this particular ecard site, I was definitely keen to participate. And let me just tell you that picking only 5? Was HARD. But here are my choices:

For all my Twitter followers. All my updates are really just cries for help in disguise.

Yep, I do lots of stupid shit. Some of it here on this blog. Hey, no one's perfect...

I am SO that person. Mostly, I call my mom, and she has a contractual obligation to listen. Signed in blood.

I just know another one's coming someday, and my insurance now isn't as good as it was the last time.


Seriously, in fact. My close friends/family have instructions to post here on the blog if anything happens to me and let anyone who wants to attend know about the funeral. Yep, I'm morbid like that.

Ah, those cards really strike right at the heart of my dark humor. And now for something completely different, a music meme! This one's been around everywhere lately, but I know for certain I've seen it at The Caffeinated Librarian, Tense Teacher, and one other blog I can't remember right now. (Was it you?) The rules:

• Put your iPod or music player on your computer on random.
• Post the first four lines from the first 20 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing the song (Skip repeat artists).
  
• Post and let everyone guess what song and artist the lines come from.
• Don’t cheat! (NO GOOGLE)

I'm also adding my own rule here: Only guess one song to start. Once I feel everyone's had some time to guess at least once, I'll open it up and you can guess others that you might know also. I'll fill in the answers and correct guessers as they come.

1. I don't mind if you got something nice to say about me
I enjoy an accolade like the rest
You can take my picture and hang it in a gallery
With all the who's who's and so-and-so's who used to be the best ("Legacy" by Nichole Nordeman - guessed by Tpiglette.)

2. Hey, boy, don't ya know
I got something going on
I got an invitiation
Don't ya keep me waiting all night long ("Come on Over" by Christina Aguilera - guessed by Debra.)

3. Si es cuestión de confesar
No sé preparar café
Y no entiendo de fútbol
Creo que alguna vez fuí infiel

4. Everyone agrees it came too soon
It was only meant to be an intersection
You kept fear of death in the back pocket of your jeans
In the palm of your hand, affection ("Say Uncle" by Vienna Teng - guessed by Dead Charming.)

5. Who doesn't know what I'm talking about?
Who's never left home, who's never struck out
To find a dream and a life of their own
A place in the clouds, a foundation of stone ("Wide Open Space" by the Dixie Chicks - guessed by Issa.)

6. I looked out this morning and the sun was gone
Turned on some music to start my day
I lost myself in a familiar song
I closed my eyes and I slipped away ("More Than a Feeling" by Boston - guessed by Latte Mommy.)

7. I, I've always been a little shy
I've always been the quiet type 'til now
And I, I never let my feelings show
I never let anybody know just how ("Love You Out Loud" by Rascal Flatts - guessed by Ashley.)

8. And now I know
Spanish Harlem are not just pretty words to say
I thought I knew
But now I know that rose trees never grow in New York City ("Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters" by Elton John - guessed by Major Bedhead.)

9. You swore that you had taught me everything from A to Z
With nary an omission in between
But I will tell you what you obviously forgot
That's how a ruler rules a queen

10. In the car I just can't wait
To pick you up on our very first date
Is it cool if I hold your hand?
Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance? ("First Date" by Blink 182 - guessed by Gnomesque.)

11. At last my love has come along
My lonely days are over
And life is like a song
Oh yeah, at last the skies above are blue ("At Last" by Etta James - guessed by Jody.)

12. I would lay me down to sleep
And pray the Lord my soul to keep
Though I never saw Him there
I believe He heard each prayer ("Still Listening" by Steven Curtis Chapman - guessed by Dead Charming.)

13. Vivo por ella sin saber
Si la encontré o me ha encontrado
Ya no recuerdo como fue
Pero al final me ha conquistado ("Vivo Por Ella" by Andrea Bocelli - guessed (mostly) by Juka.)

14. Oh I tried to
Make the best of
All the sweet love
That you gave me ("Fool That I Am" by Rita Coolidge - guessed by Seeser.)

15. Chill out, whatcha yellin for?
Lay back, it's all been done
And if you could only let it be
You would see ("Complicated" by Avril Lavigne - guessed by Tense Teacher.)

16. You've got your ball
You've got your chain
Tied to me tight
Tie me up again ("Crash Into Me" by Dave Matthews Band - guessed by Clair.)

17. I'm looking at you, old friend of mine
It's no use pretending that everything's fine
Now don't be so brave, don't be so proud
I want you to know that I'm here for you now ("Let Me Show You the Way" by Testimony A Cappella (more famously by Michael W. Smith) - guessed by William.)

18. We look for You in the mountains
And in the valleys below
Yet all the while we can't hear
Your whisper in the wind's soft blow ("So Subtly" by Rescue - guessed by Natalie.)

19. Softly, like a whisper
Hold me in your arms
Everything fades
But you and me ("Where You Are" by Rie Sinclair - guessed by Ali.)

20. An only child, alone and wild
A cabinet-maker's son
His hands were meant for different work
And his heart was known to none ("Leader of the Band" by Dan Fogelberg - guessed by Jody, who's not so good at the guessing once. :-P )

Good luck figuring out my eclectic music collection. I make no excuses or apologies for my taste.

Inevitable Crash and Scavenger Hunt Update

(Photo courtesy of Garfield Minus Garfield.)

Look, everyone, it's the post-BlogHer crash! If you've been browsing the Twitter timeline, reading blogs, and/or observing status updates on Facebook, you've probably noticed it. It seems like most everyone is having a bit of trouble adjusting to life back in "the real world" after a weekend of friendship and frivolity. I can't deny that I'm feeling some of that same malaise, but I also can't pretend that it's only sadness at the end of BlogHer that had me feeling so crappy. See, I caught this cold that hit me pretty hard on Monday - I blame Jennster, because she was all up on my ass at the Macy's party - and I kept taking NyQuil and DayQuil and FuckingMakeMeFeelBetterAlreadyQuil and I forgot all about my citalopram.

I forgot to take my antidepressants.

No wonder I felt like crap! I couldn't figure out why the hell I kept crying at the drop of a hat, or why I couldn't work up the motivation to leave bed. When I sink back into depression, the mantra that repeats in my head is usually, "I don't care." Because I just don't - I don't care about getting anything done, I don't care about talking to anyone, I don't even care about shopping. You know it's bad when I put back a fabulous pair of shoes because I don't care enough to wait in the checkout line to buy them. And the only reason I eventually cared enough to eat is because I considered the fallout I would have to endure if I started dry heaving in the middle of the DVD aisle at Target. But I took my pills today and I'm already feeling a little more human. I also eventually did get out of the house and get some food as well, so I'm chalking the day up as an overall win.

------------------------------------

Many of you have been asking how my BlogHer08 Scavenger Hunt went. Well, let's see...

I did not get a picture of me with Her Bad Mother's boobs. I did, however, get a picture of me with HBM's adorable baby boy, whom I got to hold and snuggle and love all over while HBM was speaking in her panel:

He was quite content to sleep nuzzled against my chest until he woke up demanding food. Remember how I said HBM's boobs have featured prominently in past conferences? So far as mini-HBM was concerned, they featured prominently on the lunch menu as well. He was totally disappointed in what I had to offer. (Read: nothing.)

The photo of my shoes with Mocha's? I got that shiznit the very first night:

(I'll give you three two guesses which one is me and which is Mocha, but I bet you won't need them both.)

Mom-101 was super kind about the endorsement, even offering to lie and say she reads me every day! But I said I had too much respect for my readers to submit a lie, so she stayed honest. I had her sign my copy of Sleep is for the Weak - do you have this book? YOU SHOULD. - and told her she could write an endorsement in there. She wrote:

Don't you love how she gets straight to the point?

I wanted to get "an interview from Ali," but apparently, that was a bit confusing. What I meant was that I wanted Ali to interview ME, but I think it came across that I wanted to interview HER. In either case, it didn't happen. I did meet and talk to her, though. In fact, meeting her was second only to meeting Moosh in terms of absolute awkwardness. I saw Ali walking into the Newbie Mixer Party, and I went running over to say hi and give a hug. As I got closer, I could see from the look on her face that she was a little freaked out and had NO IDEA who I was. "Oh, man," I thought, totally embarrassed. When I finally reached her, I said, "Hi, I'm Lara... ?" hoping she might remember the name and figure out I wasn't a total weirdo. "Oh, I know," she says, smiling. "I just don't have my contacts in, so I couldn't see who you were until you were right here."

How cute is she? She makes me look like a big, freakish clown in comparison.

My sex advice from Kristen - much like my endorsement from Liz - came in the form of her book signing. She was kind enough to chuckle at my scavenger hunt idea but not openly laugh in my face - it's a fine line to walk, folks. Here's what she had to say:

"Always be prepared cuz you never know when the mood's going to hit you!" in case you can't read it. Ah, so true.

I met Flutter at the Ruby Skye party and she was so beautiful in a saucy red cocktail dress. She gave an awesome hug and introduced me to all sorts of super awesome ladies. The next day I went to her session and heard her speak and she was completely eloquent and inspiring. I did not, however, get a poem from her. Sad. (Comments are open, Flutter!)

Seeing Lady M is always special for me, but admittedly, it's not special in the same way that seeing these other women was. Lady M - for those who don't know - has been a friend of mine in real life for... um... five years? (Something like that.) I love her to death, and enjoying some of BlogHer with her was totally awesome. Japanese Fruit Friend is what she uses as her Blogger icon, and I wanted a picture of him with Monkeyduck, which I got during lunch on the second day:

Yeah, I know, the focus sucks. But still, aren't they cute?

Amanda never gave me a flower in any literal sense, but I did get to hold her adorable baby girl for a while, and that's kind of way more awesome than a flower anyway. Here is the three of us together before the final keynote on Saturday:

Fin's all flowery anyway.

I never got to hold Julie's baby, which is really too bad, but she claims he gave me my cold anyway. I did get to hug Julie, which was nice, and pat and coo and generally ogle over Oliver. It's okay that I didn't hold him. (Darn him for the cold, though, if he did pass it on...)

As for my hot tip from Queen of Spain, well, with her being as cool, popular, and important as she was (and is), I'm lucky I got the chance to say hello. Looks like I'll have to wait to find out the haps on social media along with everyone else.

Trying to get a parenthetical aside from Oh, The Joys was really hard. I realized after chatting with her that when it's not written down, it's kind of hard to tell when something is in parentheses and when it's not. But I did get to meet and talk with her, and even share a lunch table with her and some other fabulous ladies on Saturday. I think that counts.

My phone appears to have deleted the text from Sandra, which makes me incredibly sad. But she DID text me Thursday night saying that she hoped I was having a great time. (From what I read, she and others had a great time at Niagara Falls, too!)

I did get a dance with Sarah, but only because a mutual friend (the Kaiser) introduced us. Apparently he went to Sarah and said, "You have to dance with this chick," which, really, shouldn't be creepy at all, right? Fortunately, she was pretty easy-going, and after chatting for a bit, we danced. After dancing for a bit, we posed for a photo:

Sarah, Kaiser, and me.

And, last but not least, the picture of Dooce with Monkeyduck on her head. Uh, YEAH RIGHT. I actually did get to meet Dooce, and got to talk to her for a solid two minutes without being told to fuck off - I had no reason to expect she would tell me to fuck off, but when I get nervous, I sometimes develop irrational fears - but there was no way I was going to ask her to put a rubber monkey-duck creature on her head. I made a graceful exit and thanked my lucky stars I hadn't peed all over her cute purple tights.

So all in all, I did pretty well I think. More BlogHer recap posts will be coming - I still have tons to say - but in the meantime, I'll ask you this?

What were the best souvenirs YOU got from BlogHer08?

If you didn't go to BlogHer, what is the best souvenir you brought home from any past trip?

(I don't want to see any "I went to BlogHer and all I got was this canvas swag bag" answers, either. I know you got some good stuff. Dish! Dish!)

BlogHer08: Cheers and Jeers

[Are you a new reader? An introduction post can be found here.]

A longer post (or twelve) will be coming soon to recap my BlogHer adventures. But for now, a quick episode of Cheers and Jeers.

Cheer: An awesome roommate who became an instant friend.
Jeer: Two words, my friends - FOOD POISONING.

Cheer: Fun parties with amazing women!
Jeer: Stuffy party rooms with insufficient ventilation.

Cheer: Interesting session topics.
Jeer: The food poisoning caused me to miss almost all the first day's sessions, interesting or not.

Cheer: Scoring invitations to Maggie Mason's private party Friday night.
Jeer: I was still so wiped out from the food poisoning that I had to go to bed instead of the party.

Cheer: Holding Her Bad Mother's beautiful baby boy during her session.
Jeer: When he woke up, my milkless body failed to keep him content.

Cheer: Getting to meet Dooce before her keynote on Saturday.
Jeer: The complete awkwardness that ensued during that keynote.

Cheer: Party at Macy's!
Jeer: No time to shop.

Cheer: Fun CheezeburgHer party post-Macy's.
Jeer: Asshat hotel security broke up the party.

Cheer: All the awesome new friends I made.
Jeer: All the bitches who snubbed me. Oh, wait, no one did that. Hooray!


So, what were the Cheers and Jeers from your weekend, BlogHer or otherwise?

Who I Am

[First, to all my regular readers: I decided I should put up a little something to introduce myself to any new readers who might meet me at BlogHer. You may or may not already know everything I'm about to say. If you do, I hope I've written it well enough that you won't be bored. If you don't, well, you learned something new today! Yay, you!]

Hello there! If you are a new reader here at Life: The Ongoing Education - welcome! You may skip this introduction at any time and speak directly to your hostess (that's me!) by saying, "Speak to Lara." If it doesn't work right away, try saying it again, louder. Maybe a few times, and say it with feeling. No, I'm not just trying to embarrass you in front of your family - there are also the beloved household pets to consider.

First and foremost, I would just like to thank you all - all four of you - for visiting my humble online home. Clearly I made an impression on you, and I can only hope it wasn't the kind of impression that required dry cleaning or emergency medical attention. Assuming that it wasn't, you've probably come to check out my site and find out a bit more about me, so that you can then make the important decisions that await you. Should you subscribe to my feed? Follow me on Twitter? Read my other blogs? These are serious issues, I know, so let's arm you with the information you'll need to face them.

Who am I? My name - as you likely know by now - is Lara David. I've noticed some folks have trouble pronouncing my first name, so to clear things up, the first syllable of Lara rhymes with car. Or bar. Or jar. It does NOT rhyme with dare, nor does it rhyme with door. Say it with me now: Laaaaaara. Very good! (Except for you there in the back.)

I am a bit of a youngin' by many standards - only 26. Sometimes I forget how young that really is, and I walk around going, "Ack! I'm already 26 and I've done nothing with my life! I'm not even married!" Then I remind myself to breathe and I realize that I actually have done important things with my life. I've graduated from college, for example - twice even! And while I may be single now, I actually was once engaged for a while. And let's not forget one of the highlights of my life's achievements: I visited the Hooters Casino Hotel in Las Vegas and escaped STD-free. Now that's saying something.

What do I do for a living? If you go through the archives here, you'll find me working as an English student teacher (while attending grad school), a preschool teacher, and a nanny. Starting next month, I will officially be a first-year, full-time high school teacher. I'll be teaching Honors World Lit and Beginning French, and I am terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought. Feel free to read along with my (mis)adventures this year, but be warned that there will almost certainly be some tears. And probably a swear word or two (thousand). In spite of that, I do love teaching and I love working with kids - it's definitely challenging, but then, I believe everything truly worthwhile is.

What's this blog about anyway? Well, I eagerly look forward to being a mother, and I tend to read a lot of mommybloggers, and I've been a nanny a number of times. So you may notice that some of my posts read in that same style, and you can think of me, at time, as sort of a "non-mommy mommyblogger". This post is one of my favorite posts of all time, and talks a bit about that.

If motherhood isn't your area of interest, rest assured, this is not solely about me and my desire to put my uterus to good use. I also write about depression, cutting, and how I've worked - and continue working, let's be honest - through those difficult issues. In November of 2006, I was hospitalized for a severe depressive episode, and you can read about that time by clicking here. If you're interested in finding out more about cutting - what it is, why it happens, etc. - you can check out my posts about that by clicking here. While these are serious issues and might be thought of as "downers" in the great fun world of the interwebs, they are important to me. Even more important is that I know there are people out there who have been strengthened by what I have written here. I don't hide when things are hard for me, but I try hard to remember to chronicle the good days too.

Speaking of good days, it's not always serious topics around here, you know. In addition for being well-known for my "I'll talk about anything no matter how serious or scary it is, so hang on to your hats and glasses, 'cause this here's the wildest ride in the internets" attitude, I'm also known for a passionate love of shoes. Superficial? Yes, yes, I know it is. But damn it, shoes make me happy, and I've learned to embrace that. For two years in a row, I've dedicated a whole month to showing off my shoe collection, so if you'd like to see those posts, click here. If you did, in fact, meet me at BlogHer, I hope I was wearing shoes that bear out my fabulous taste. If I wasn't, I was probably giving my toes a break from some painful-yet-awesome shoes that I was wearing the night before. Please to forgive.

I do hope that you'll stick around and read me here at my main site, but I also want to point you to a couple other cool locations where you can find me skulking about:

I'm a budding photographer, and I'm pretty good (if I do say so myself). I publish photos here fairly regularly, but generally only when they're relevant to the larger post. If you want to scroll through photos without putting up with my verbose writing, feel free to pop on over to my photo blog.

I find religious ideas interesting, especially when I'm working through my own conflicting thoughts and beliefs. Earlier this year, I started a site devoted solely to topics of faith - my own, other peoples', whatever. All are welcome, regardless of religious affiliation (or lack thereof), so long as everyone can be respectful and tolerant. We get some great discussions there sometimes, with lots of different opinions, so please join us here.

Lastly, I am so proud to be a channel editor for the absolutely fabulous Blog Nosh Magazine. No matter what your interests are, Blog Nosh has something to sate your appetite for amazing content. Imagine all the great writing you've encountered in the blogosphere, and then imagine how much great content you MISSED OUT ON because you weren't yet reading a certain blog, or you went on vacation for a couple weeks. Those great posts that fall of their blogs' homepages and are never seen again? We find them and republish them so that you can find tasty content every single day. Find out more about us (and how to be featured) here.

Well, I think I've rambled just about long enough. If you stuck with me through that whole thing, you are an angel and my new best friend. Do you have any questions I can answer for you? Any suggestions for how not to freak out new readers in the future? Any fawning compliments about my awesomeness? Just raise your hand, add your voice, and make me one happy blogger.

Hope to see you around!

My Special BlogHer '08 Scavenger Hunt

After months and months of anticipating, BlogHer '08 is now two days away. I'm sorry, I mean: BlogHer '08 is TWO DAYS AWAY. I can't even believe it. I'm excited, nervous, stressed, anxious, happy, terrified - my emotions are all over the place about this thing. The only thing I know for sure is that I will be bringing many fabulous pairs of shoes in the hopes of impressing fashionable blogging types I will be meeting there.

One of the things making me a nice conflicting mix of nervous/excited (just the right amount so that I'm not *quite* peeing my pants) is the sheer number of fabulous women bloggers I want to meet while I'm in SF this weekend. I literally had to sit down and make a list just to make sure I knew who all I would definitely want to find during the conference. Once I did, I started thinking of how to record my memories with these fabulous ladies, and I came up with what is now my BlogHer '08 Scavenger Hunt list.

At the end of BlogHer '08, I will hopefully have:

A photo of me with Her Bad Mother's boobs. (Because apparently they feature prominently in every year's conference.)

A photo of my shoes next to Mocha Momma's. (Because we both have fabulous taste in shoes and large feet.)

An endorsement from Mom-101. (Because as an advertising professional and co-founder of Cool Mom Picks, I figure her words might have some weight to them.)

An interview from Ali. (Because she interviews real, live famous people, so if she interviews me, that makes me special.)

Sex advice from Kristen. (Because she is, after all, the Mominatrix herself.)

A poem from Flutter. (Because she's such a lovely poet, even a limerick from her would be awesome.)

A photo of Lady M's Japanese Fruit Friend with MonkeyDuck. (Because I think these two would hit it off so well.)

A flower from Amanda. (Because I once sent her a photo of a flower that made me think of her.)

A baby from Julie. (Because she has one she won't want to hold the whole time. And no, I don't plan to keep him or anything.)

A "hot tip" from Queen of Spain. (Because she knows everything about everything before it even happens.)

A parenthetical aside from Oh, The Joys. (Because she uses them all the time and I just adore that about her.)

A text message from Sandra. (Because she won't be there for any in-person chatting. Am so sad.)

A dance with Sarah. (Because she once posted about this awesome video of bad dancing and said she wanted fellow back-up dancers.)

And, for five thousand bonus points:
A photo of Dooce with MonkeyDuck on her head. (Because if I can actually get her to do that, I'm sure I'm magic.)

Doesn't that sound like fun? Anything else you think I should try to get while I'm there? Anything you're trying to get? Anything you want to complain about if you're bitter about not attending? ('Cause boy do I remember how sad I was to be not going last year.)

Please, share. Raise your hand. And wish me luck in my quest, because some of these ladies may turn out to big ol' meanies who make fun of me and pull my hair. (Ha! Yeah, right.)

In Honor of My Mother

Yesterday was my mom's birthday, and I'm so glad that I was able to be here in Las Vegas to celebrate it with her. You all already know how much I love my mother - if you don't, just read this post - but there's always more to say. I thought a lot about what I might say in a birthday post for her, but one thing I knew for sure was that I wanted to take some new pictures with her to publish here when I wrote... whatever it was I was going to write.

So Mom and I went to a local park (in 90+ degree heat) with my camera and tripod so that we could have some more recent pictures together. (Our last photo shoot was June 2007 - pics can be seen here (end of post) and here.) I was able to get a lot of great shots out of the day, and really, any number of photos could have been used for a really touching post about how much I adore and admire my mother - both as a woman and a parent.

But hell, I'm way too cheesed up and sentimental when it comes to my mom, so instead, I offer you some humor. Here is what I like to call:

The Many Faces of Mom

Contemplative Mom: "I think, therefore I am."

Bored Mom: "How long is she going to make me sit here?"

Stoned Mom: "Dood, let's get some Fritos!"

Fortune-Telling Mom: "I'm getting a vision..."

About-to-Sneeze Mom: "I can feel it coming!"


Math Mom: "And this one is isosceles!"


Vogue Mom: "Strike a pose."


Taste-Tester Mom: "Mmm, tastes great!"


Crazy Mom: "You hear the voices too, right?"


Musical Mom: "The HILLS are aliiiiiiive..."


Scared Mom: "Dear God, what is that THING?!"


Yoga Mom: "Ohm..."


Snobby Mom: "I look down my nose at you."


Cheerleading Mom: "Rah! Rah!"


Melodramatic Mom: "I want to be alone."


Disgusted Mom: "I think I smell a fart."


Celebrity Mom: "No more paparazzi pictures, please."

So yeah, that's my mom for you. But before you go thinking I'm going to be completely irreverent through the whole post, here is one of my favorite pictures of the two of us together:

Happy birthday, Mom - I'll love you forever.

Your Guess Is As Good As Mine

The scene: In a quiet office, three women sit working at their computers. The only sound in the room - besides that of my, Seeser's, and Jersey's typing - is some light background music from the radio. Suddenly, without warning...

Seeser: "I HAVE TO SEE IF SHE'S EATING A CARROT!"

...

Now, I put it to you folks, my brilliant readers: WTF? Give me an explanation - ANY explanation.

I dare you.

What Not to Wear (in the Air)

A few weeks ago, I was reading A Dress a Day and clicked through a link to one of Erin's archived posts. The post was all about her disappointment in the sloppy appearance of American travelers these days, and her (very strong) opinions about what is and is not appropriate to wear on an airplane. Frankly, I found the whole thing pretty snobby and ridiculous, particularly for where I live and where I tend to fly. In California, as far as I'm concerned, flip-flops are appropriate for about 70% of all occasions, including many job interviews and office environments. And as for apparel, I live in Silicon Valley - do you have any idea how most engineers and computer programmers dress for work? When we were first discussing engagement, J. and I went to Tiffany's to look at rings; I, in my skirt, sweater, and sandals, was ignored completely, while J., in his old t-shirt, cargo shorts, and dirty sneakers, was fawned over by multiple sales people. Why? Because they're not stupid - they know what a successful tech man looks like.

Yep, that's about what they look like, except sometimes the mustard is replaced by soy sauce.

Okay, so much for "dressing for travel the way you would for a job," because apparently the way we all dress for jobs is already kind of sloppy. Plus, when you're like me and all you ever fly is Southwest, there's no point in dressing up in the hopes of getting moved up to the nonexistent first-class section. But there were also arguments about flip-flops and high heels being dangerous in an emergency situation, and that's why we shouldn't wear them on airplanes. To this I say: If I can dance a polka, chase a toddler, and throw a backflip in flip-flops and heels, I can safely exit a plane. And who are these people who get on planes and take their stinky shoes off? That's just bad manners in general, though I'd like to point out that feet that have been wearing flip-flops are likely a lot more aired-out than feet that have been enclosed in flats or sneakers.

So yeah, I was a little suspicious of this post I'd read. I still don't see what's wrong with a pair of comfortable yoga pants and a tank top (assuming they fit and are clean - there's a difference between being comfortable and looking like a hobo) and some flip-flops. But I did decide for my Vegas flight this weekend that I would try to step up my look just a little bit. NOT because I care if someone is judging me for wearing flip-flops, but because there was no reason I couldn't. My ride was picking me up at 4:00, and I had the whole day up until then to pack and get ready. And besides, I have a lot of cute, comfortable clothes that are nice but not too fancy. I decided to dress up my travel attire for myself, because sometimes, it's fun to put in the extra effort and go out the door feeling pretty.

This does not qualify for "looking pretty" in my book. Maybe if it were lime green...

I was pleasantly surprised that when my friend arrived he commented almost immediately. "You look really nice," he said after saying hello; when I arrived in Vegas, my mom also commented on my nice clothing. But even more surprising was a compliment I received at the airport from a fellow passenger as we waited to board. An older man, maybe 55 years old, spoke to me in a thick European accent. "I meant to make you a compliment when you sat earlier," he said. "You dress very nicely. My daughter dresses very like that - classy but feminine and just nice. I like very much." I was quite taken aback, but thanked him for his comment and walked away feeling quite smiley.

While I'm not sure I'm ready to totally give up the idea of comfort clothes on airplanes, I'm not quite as against the nicer clothing as I was before. When I have the time and inclination, I'll probably remember how this trip went and put in a little extra thought and care to what I put on for my travels. Though I still say that unless someone's paying me money, I am not voluntarily sitting in a crowded airplane in a skirt suit.

Even if it does make me look particularly fabulous.

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What do y'all wear when you travel? Does it matter if you're traveling for business or pleasure? Do you judge others for what they wear? Do share - that's why the comments are there.

Airplane Scribblings and a Q&A Google-age

[I scribbled this during my flight out to Vegas. This is just how my mind works sometimes, sad, but honest. Things like this are also why I always have a small notebook with me, just in case the urge to write strikes.]

I took my seat in the waiting area, dropping my bags at my side. The display showed my flight as on time, which left me with about ten minutes before boarding. I looked around, observing the people sitting near me, and a pair of young women caught my attention. They seemed engrossed in conversation, gesticulating wildly back and forth. I thought of my sister, who habitually flails her hands at random when she speaks. Then I realized that they weren't speaking - they were using sign language.

I thought of Lilit, one of my best friends from childhood, only she wasn't Lilit then, she had another name; in all honesty, she was really a different person, as much as a 9-year-old me was a different person than I am today. Lilit's parents are deaf - or, more accurately, her father is deaf and her mother is hard of hearing. I remember going to her house and watching with fascination as she conversed with her parents in sign language. It was like a party trick to me, this cool thing she could do, as if she were a trained seal or a performing poodle. In my mind, whether she knew it or not, I was belittling her family's language.

All at once, there in the airport, I'd done it yet again. Without paying attention, I'd dismissed their entire form of communication to meaningless hand gestures - it was like if I'd gone to Africa speaking English and had everyone assume I was just spouting gibberish. Suddenly, I felt sad, and I realized that if Lilit had been with me, she probably would have recognized it at once for what it really was. I felt envious of her for that - not in the way I used to, when I felt
like she could do this great trick that I would never be able to do. This time, I envied her ability to communicate where I was utterly lost. She has a unique tie to an entire world of people I will never really know.

In a crowded terminal, I suddenly felt very alone, and I wished more than anything that I knew what those women were saying.

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And now for something completely different...


You've missed it, I know. So let's get this party started, shall we?

All Q & A, All the Time:

can you become an optimist? - Apparently so, since I recently became one myself. While life is certainly never perfect, and I still struggle in many ways, I have a lot more hope for the future, and I don't let things keep me down for long.

what am i going to look like when im older? - I don't know; what do you look like now? Think that, plus wrinkles.

is it true that everytime you eat an oreo, you loose three minutes of your life? - Wow, three minutes to eat an Oreo? That's pretty slow. It must be because you're taking too much time twisting them apart and licking the frosting. I just eat the damn thing, and it takes me about 15 seconds.

why is my dog eatting used diapers? - Maybe because you never feed him. I think the more important question is, why are you letting your dog eat used diapers?

have you ever let a guy look under your skirt? - Well, yes. I often let people look under my skirts. Especially at dance events, since half the time the number of skirts I'm wearing becomes a central topic of conversation. "How many petticoats do you HAVE under there?"

is adorabler a word? - If it's not, it should be.

did you pee your pants? - Like, ever in my life? I'm sure I did. Recently? Not that I recall.

you own a set of white tie and tails? - No, I borrowed that set.

what color shoes should i wear with a brown skirt? - Whatever color you want. Except maybe lime green, but I'm biased, because I think lime green is just a gross color.

why do girls take lip gloss with them on a night out? - It's not actually lip gloss. See, that's our secret communication device that lets us connect to the mother ship and receive our instructions for global domination.

How does a girl have sex with a dog? - Uh, hopefully, she doesn't.

does being a lawyer get better or do you just become numb? - I don't think there's anything I can say here to make this funnier.

do horses like people to wear perfume? - I'm pretty sure the olfactory senses of horses has been assaulted enough by their own shit that natural human scents don't bother them much.

what's a sniggler? - I don't know, but frankly, it sounds made up. And a little bit dirty.

how important is on-going education in your job? - Pretty damn important, I'd say. Especially if I keep getting assigned to teach things I didn't study very much, like French. Ha!

What underwear looks good on my bum? - Not having seen your particular bum, I can't say for certain. You can never go wrong with something pink and frilly, though. (Yes, you too, guys.)

how do i handle a boy who is more experienced than me? - Whips and chains, my friend. Whips. And. Chains.


Happy Sunday, everyone. I hope it is filled with love and laughter, as mine is.

Rented Space - List of Grievances

[Well, enough of my petty problems. There are a lot of folks dealing with bigger issues than a silly break-up, like this reader here. She first shared with us in this post, an open letter to her mother. Now, she needed to share this list of things "she" has done to cause problems. Please offer your kind support, as you so often do for me.]

* When I was six, I was a tom boy (was? Who am I kidding I’m STILL a tomboy.) I loved boy games boy toys playing with boys being rambunctious. “She” approached my parents in front of me with her fear that I was gay. I didn’t know what gay was, but I knew it was bad, (Not that I have anything against gay people but if you can imagine what my parents reaction might have been to their six year old daughter being accused of being gay because she was a tomboy, and then imagine a six year olds understanding of this: yeah, I was freaked out, I thought they meant my arm was going to rot off, or something that dramatic.)

* When I was eight, “she” took me on a very girly adventure where I had to wear a dress and tights and white uncomfortable shoes and drink tea and act, like a girl. I hated it, and being an outspoken little girl, but at least polite, I told her something along the lines of “I’m glad you enjoyed it, but I didn’t, and don’t want to go back.” Her reaction was to tell me that I would never get married because boys don’t marry tomboys. She told me that I would never have kids, or a life unless I learned to be a lady.

* The summers the years I was 10 through 16 years old, I lived with her, out of state, to serve as nanny to her five grandchildren. They worked me like a slave, never doing anything to entertain me (never taking me to a movie, to the pool anything to that degree) and I was never paid a penny. When I decided to cut the summer short when I was sixteen because I was tired of being stuck with five kids all day ever day “she” threw a fit. She lied to my mother saying she offered to take me places and I refused to go. Luckily my mother believed me and sent me a plane ticket to return home. (When her children were the ages I was when I nannied for them, they would spend their summers with my parents and were constantly entertained.)

* I drove my grandmother to her house when I was 17 for Christmas. It ended up being a terrible visit. I ended up having a drug reaction to some sinus medication I had taken, and ended up in the emergency room. They kept me over night for observation do to my heart rhythm and breathing issues. “She” had the audacity to tell me to my face in front of grandmother, that she thought I was faking it, because once I convinced the family, (who were busy with Christmas dinner) that something was wrong with me and I needed to go to the Emergency Room, when my grandmother got up to take me “she” said I bolted out the door and that if I was really that sick I wouldn’t have. (If you’ve ever had a allergic reaction to medication it makes you feel like your panicking physically, I saw the ER as my way out and I was afraid I was going to have a heart attack. If I was faking it I did pretty good as the hospital felt the need to keep me because my heart was racing.) When we returned home my grandmother and I went to my parents house and told them what happened. My mother was horrified and called “her” to tell her off. She denied saying it. “She” came in a few months later and confronted me about telling my mother. My mother and father and her got into it again and “she” continued to claim that I made the whole thing up. My mom then told her fine let’s ask Grandmother what happened. “She “ then refused to bring “grandmother” into this argument.

*I had a stroke several years ago in which I spent three weeks in the hospital, eight weeks in inpatient rehabilitation and 18 months in outpatient rehabilitation. During this time I received temporary disability because for a great deal of the time I wasn’t able to walk or control the left side of my body, and physical therapy took up literally all of my time. I was very young, 22 at the time of the stroke. I also had an 18 month old son. After much debate it was determined that my parents would move into my house (keeping their own) so my son could stay in his house with his somewhat normal routine while I tried to get better. “She” wrote a three page letter, detailing that she felt like I was manipulating my parents into caring for my son and paying my bills. I was never supposed to know about the letter but mom dropped it out of her purse and I found it. It was horribly hateful. I cried hardest over this than anything because I wanted my life back. I wanted to be able to run down the hall to my baby when he had a nightmare. I wanted to play in the yard with him. Hell, for a very long time I wanted just be able to lift him onto my own lap without having to ask someone to help me. I hated that my parents had to live with me and totally appreciated their love for me and my son. Yes I’m sure they paid for some things during that time because disability doesn’t make you rich, but they stayed only for as long as I needed them. Which was about 7 months, as they moved back home when I was able to get around well with a cane. I had learned to get my son in and out of his car seat and in and out of the house while using a cane for balance, I was able to make small meals and dress myself and my child and as soon as I could get by, I had them leave. I did not in any way manipulate them, and I have “paid” them back (though they never felt it was necessary) both financially, and having my mother live with me while she recovered from a total knee replacement, which wasn’t the same length of recovery but I was there for her.

*My grandmother used to say I was her favorite Grandchild. (For the record I visited more often than any of the others (all older than me), at LEAST 4 times a week we were there and on most occasions we were there every day. My boys adored her and now that she’s gone still talk about her. “She” told me 4 days before my grandmother died, and after she was too weak to talk too, that my grandmother never really loved me and that my boys and I created so much stress in her life (with my sickness and other day to day things) and that she never really liked me coming down all the time to tell her about my day. My heart tells me that my grandmother loved me, she was always happy to see me and the boys, but, part of me wonders sometimes if maybe “she” was right.

*When my grandmother died, my grandmother had written in her will that I was to get her four poster bed. I got off the school bus at my grandmothers house everyday and spent the night a lot when I was little. I slept in that four poster bed every time I slept there. I’d carved my name under it (got in trouble for that), and spent many an hour jumping on it. When she asked each of her grandchildren what piece they wanted of hers, that’s what I wanted, and it wasn’t the piece chosen by any of the other grandchildren. Well, after she died, we didn’t want to clean her house out immediately. We wanted to wait a few months and get used to Grandmother not being there. Grandmother was buried the 29^th of October, by the 31^st her house was cleared out. “She” took every family photo, every single one of my grandmother and our other family, every piece of furniture, except for the kitchen table which she left for my mother, my bed, my brothers dresser and bed set, everything. You name it…gone. I received nothing. It’s fine though, I have years worth of memories, when she and her children couldn’t be bothered to spend time with Grandmother, THEY can’t steal that. Even so, I wonder what grandmother would think, to know that half of her grandchildren not only didn’t get what she’d “given” us, but didn’t even get photos of our heritage.

She hates me, but she wont admit it. Her actions speak as though she does. And yes there is a reason. I was adopted. I was supposed to be retarded, though it turned out I had a fairly normal IQ. But “she” never did respect me or accept me as family. “She” even requested I not call her “aunt” when I was small, which was fine, I know a five letter word that’s more appropriate for her. She has also said that the memories she took in taking all of grandmother’s photo books were her children’s heritage and not mine.

She’s a deaconess at her church, and she thinks people lover her, but I really wonder. I really do. How many people have seen her true colors. She hates me, because when I was a helpless baby, of two months and two days old, I was given to my parents who loved and took care of me. She has said more than once, that I’m not even family. More than once to my face.

She does the same thing to my kids. They are young now, and cute and adorable, so she is all “sweetness” wanting to hold them especially when they were babies. And then, last Christmas it started. She said to my oldest (in front of me), who is speech delayed do to hearing problems that have been combated with two surgeries and soon another. She said to him “girls won’t like you if you don’t learn to speak clearly, you are lazy (then said his name) try harder to speak clearly and I’m sure you’ll be able too.” (She seems to know it all, like my son didn't really need the two surgeries he's had or the one he's going to have, he's just too lazy to speak correctly.)

And that was the last time she saw him or his brother.

And the last time, if I can help it, she will see him or his brother.

My family is not based on blood kin. She wrote me out of her life, as accepted family years ago. She chastised me, made me feel self conscious, she hurt my feelings, (and honestly still does, though, and this still amazes me, she did tell me last summer that I’m a very good mother, the weird thing was, she acted surprised. Like she couldn’t believe that I would be a good mother) because of her I thought less of myself, and maybe she was just one in a line of those who broke me, but sometimes, most of the time, I think “she” had the biggest opportunity, and she just kept reminding me how I’d never be good enough, because I wasn’t even born good enough.

Why am I writing this?

Because she’s coming into town Saturday, and staying a week. To visit some cousins. My parents refuse to see her. She has called and left me 7 voice messages. She wants to take me and my kids out to eat, to “straighten” out our disagreement. Which translates into us sitting down to eat while she excuses herself for what she said to my son and explains how she was only trying to help and once again me and the loser self that I over reacted and now I have caused a big separation in our family and that my grandmother and deceased aunt (the one who loved me) would be very ashamed of me if they could know where they are. I know this because this is almost exactly what she said on my voice mail.

But you know what?

Not a chance.

Sorry. No, actually I’m not sorry.

Witch, if you read this. You gone too far. I let you walk all over me for my mother’s sake. You’re all she has left. Other than me and my brothers and our children. But this time, you went too far. You attacked my baby. Do you know, when I asked him about what you said and how it made him feel do you know he said “it made me feel sad.” Oh no you don’t. Target me all you want, I know who I am. But don’t you screw with my baby. He deserves better than you.

(To all you kind people. Thank you so much for your comments and for reading this. I can't post this at my own blog because my aunt I'm almost positive reads it, and if not her my cousin does. I don't need more problems but I did want to get the anger off my chest.)