11 things I have learned in 2011

1:  There is value in cutting people out of your life. I know that sounds harsh, but we all have one or two people in our lives that really just seem to live to bring us down. Some people are just too immature, two-faced or…or downright disruptive to be a part of it.

2: Motherhood is an isolating thing. Technically, I started to learn this in 2010, but last year, Dominic was still tiny and easily toted. This year, as a 1 year old, he is into absolutely everything, so dragging him out inevitably means chasing him around. Basically, it comes down to whether or not your friends have kids themselves…and mine do not. Thankfully, I have made one “mommy” friend (along with her husband). Otherwise, I’d probably have a concussion from head-desking.

3: Staying organized is nearly impossible. I started the Fall semester with a perfect organization system…but about 3 weeks in, it was in shambles. I’ll, of course, make another attempt at it for the Spring semester.

4: I will never be able to grasp the things that society finds attractive. People actually DO think the “duckface” is hot. I still have no idea why they think that, but apparently, they do. Also, has anyone seen Uggs? ’nuff said.

5: You can absolutely not count on the general populous for common sense. I run into this at work constantly. Examples:

“Hi, I’d like a twelve pack of tacos…I want 8 crunchy tacos and 3 soft tacos.”

“Ma’am, that adds up to 11.”

“I’d like a chicken chalupa supreme, a carmel apple em-pan-dah, and…do you have onion rings?” Of course we don’t have onion rings. Its Taco Bell!

My personal favorite (this was in my General Psychology class and was asked in total seriousness:

“What is common sense? I mean…I don’t understand what you mean by common sense.”

6: Trolls will troll. And people will absolutely overreact to it. Recently, on the PostSecret iPhone app (the best app EVER!), imbeciles could not resist posting pictures of their genitals, of admittedly disturbing porn (Lets just say that I now consider “Two Girls, One Cup” to be tame), and other generally stupid stuff.

My philosophy? Scroll past it and don’t feed the trolls. Trolls LOVE attention. Its like crack to them. So, ignore them, they will get bored, and that’ll be that.

The general philosophy of the PS community? Post 500,000,000+ “secrets” about how “Ontario” and “New Jersey” (the locations from which the craziness were posted) are sick, evil, ruining post secret, etc. Remember what I said about trolls and attention-crack? They just posted more and more and more, and now the app has been taken down. I can only hope that Frank (the founder of PostSecret, an ongoing community art project filled with people’s secrets) will be able to fix it in such a way that it’ll be live again soon. Clicky the link. Don’t worry: none of the crazy stuff gets posted on the blog…people actually MAIL in postcards.

7: Too much of a good thing is too much. Loved Farmville. FREAKING LOVED IT. Until they started doing like 9 billion things at once and you could only keep up if you played all. day. long. Which I can’t/won’t. So…yeah. Dosvedanya, Farmville.

8:  Do svidaniya means “Good-bye” or “Until we meet again” in Russian. Its my new favorite word. My old one was mariposita, which is “little butterfly” in Spanish.

9: Facebook is the fastest news source ever.  I am pretty clicky on CNN. I really do follow the news, I swear. But I get most of the “big” stuff from Facebook before anywhere else. Before the President announced that the SEALs kicked bin Laden’s ass, I saw posts urging me to turn on the news. After that d-bag cop sprayed down peaceful protesters with pepper spray, I saw it first via posted memes. When my aunt died, I heard about it on Facebook before any of my immediate family had been notified. Its crazy.

10: I can be reduced to tears by a movie. Did you see the part in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows pt 2 where Snape was sobbing over Lily Potter’s dead body? If Alan Rickman doesn’t win an Academy Award for that performance, the Oscars are freakin’ rigged!

11: You learn more about who you are and who you want to be every year.

 

Movie review: Across the Universe

Writing to Evaluate essay for Composition 1:

 

Pools of Sorrow, Waves of Joy

     A film about the United States during the Vietnam War era, as a concept, seems overdone. A Vietnam-era story set to Beatles music is even more so. After all, what self-respecting ‘60s-inspired movie doesn’t have an adorable teenage cheerleader daydreaming to the tune of “I Want to Hold Your Hand” over the clichéd quarterback? The Beatles and their music helped define the decade, from the Suburban innocence of “Love Me Do” to the crazed, angry whimsy of “Helter Skelter.” But Across the Universe shows that you can, in fact, reinvent the wheel.

The plot is relatively transparent, but in an obvious, purposeful way. The first third of the film introduces us to Jude, Lucy, Maxwell, and, briefly, Prudence. All characters are, of course, named from Beatles songs. Jude, from the dingy cobbled streets of Liverpool, comes to America to find the father he never knew, and meets Max, a dissatisfied Princeton student plotting to rebel against his straight-laced parents and partying to “With a Little Help From My Friends.” A side-story shows us Prudence, our adorable teenage cheerleader wistfully and longingly singing “I Want to Hold Your Hand” from the bleachers, though it slowly becomes apparent she’s singing to a fellow cheerleader. Heading home for Thanksgiving, Max brings along Jude, where he meets his friend’s beautiful sister, Lucy, a high school student pining for her military boyfriend. Given the transparency mentioned earlier, it’s easy to guess Lucy’s love does not manage to return.

After a brief argument with Max’s family, our dynamic duo travel to New York. They move into an apartment owned by a sultry singer named Sadie, who instantly brings Janis Joplin to mind and later her Hendrix-clone guitarist, JoJo. Prudence eventually joins them, as does Lucy, now jaded from the death of her boyfriend.

Around this point, the film starts its decent into trippiness. Max is required to report to a drafting center, where grotesque, dancing toy-soldier military men inspect him, and the drafted trudge through a miniaturized jungle, at once kicking through the fog of war and buckling under the weight of the Statue of Liberty. The imagery conjures fear for the men and it’s easy to imagine the weight of that fear literally crushing them.

Once back with his friends, they attend a peace rally, which gives Lucy and Max hope that the war will be over soon and slowly sucks Lucy in with the grandeur of revolution and propaganda-style speech (“Our voice is our weapon, and united we will win!”). Afterwards, Sadie takes them to a party hosted by a hippie author, Dr. Robert. Dr. Robert is a very thinly-veiled reference to Timothy Leary, and sprouts nonsense (“I Am the Walrus”) while his audience drinks LSD-spiked pink punch. Our group winds up on a psychedelic bus (“Magical Mystery Tour,” anyone?) and Dr. Robert’s drug-addled preaching leads to the insanity of Mr. Kite’s carnival, which is almost nauseatingly colorful and motion-rich.

The final third of the film is melancholy and really brings home the dissatisfaction of the age. Lucy and Jude fight over how sucked into “the cause” she’s become, while he has no cause at all, JoJo and Sadie fight over Sadie’s fame overshadowing her band’s, and Max is surrounded by bloodshed and violence. Paco, the speaker at the peace rally, quickly turns from the inspired face of the hippy revolution to an easy-to-hate, bomb-building extremist.

The acting in Across the Universe is inspired. T.V. Carpio, who plays Prudence, is a master of the exquisite longing that her character personifies. Evan Rachel Wood (Lucy) flawlessly transitions from sock-hopping school girl to frenzied revolutionary, and Joe Anderson (Max) maintains such a wide-eyed innocence, even surrounded by death and destruction, that it’s heart-wrenching, while Jude’s Jim Sturgess maintains a haunted, jaded and stoic exterior. The best acting, though, is the briefest and the genius is likely not in the intended way. Bono plays dear Dr Robert, his nonsense topped with a white cowboy hat and a barely passable American accent. The ludicrousness and humor adds to the falseness of the character.

The imagery is powerful. The streets of Jude’s hometown, Liverpool, are dingy and dirty. Soot seems to coat every brick on every wall, and its easy to feel Jude’s desire to be free of such a place. Several musical sequences are two things at once, in a clever duality. The “Strawberry Fields Forever” sequence shows Jude’s angered, frenzied painting juxtaposed over Max on the battlefield. Strawberry-bombs fall heavily onto a jungle landscape and land alternately in a fiery explosion and a dramatic splash of bright, blood-red paint that makes you almost as queasy as the blood of Max’s fallen comrades.

Music is, of course, the main focus. The musical numbers are presented in such  a way that one doesn’t need to be a Beatles fan to appreciate the inclusion, or even to really be able to recognize them as Beatles songs. Most of the soundtrack fits in seamlessly with the plot and the ones that don’t merely add to the fantasy and freedom of the time. That being said, having a running knowledge of the Beatles does help move the subtle references along. Only one of the characters’ namesake songs were actually featured in the film (“Hey, Jude”), though “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” did play through the credits. Knowing that Max was named through “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” makes a scene with him beating a fan with a shiny hammer amusing, and knowing the song “Sexy Sadie” lends an obviousness to her character in more ways than the Joplin imitation. Some songs were only referenced (“She Came in Through the Bathroom Window”) and some were understated, such as JoJo strumming (not singing) the tune of “A Day in the Life” while news of Martin Luther King’s death played on the news (“A Day in the Life” begins “I saw the news today, oh boy”). Fans may even feel that some other songs would have fit in well, but are absent, such as “The Long and Winding Road” towards the end of the film or “Help!” in several places.

Despite the transparency and predictability of the movie, it was beautifully done. Across the Universe captured the essence of the late 60s, in all its civil unrest, useless violence and stolen innocence.

The Boy Who Changed the World

Informative Essay Project

 

The Boy Who Changed the World

     In 1997, a book was published that would change the world. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone began a series that has seeped into nearly every aspect of modern society. The series would go on to change a generation’s views on reading, creativity, movies, and charity.

As a book series, Harry Potter has changed the face of reading in America. All seven of the original Harry Potter series were on the best-seller list. The final book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, sold a record-shattering 11 million copies in the first 24 hours. A study by publishing mogul Scholastic finds that, despite a previously recorded drop in childhood reading at age 8, over 60% of 9-11 year olds report reading the series, and a majority reported interest in rereading the saga of The Boy Who Lived. More interestingly, 63% of boys and 44% of girls surveyed report reading the books in order to feel “in” with their friends. The series has become so pervasive of childhood, that reading is now the cool thing to do.  Even better, 76% of parents report that their child’s grades have improved as a result of reading the Harry Potter series.

Perhaps as a result of reading, there has been a surge in creativity surrounding the books. Writing and reading fan fiction is a popular hobby amongst Potter fans. One site, fanfiction.net, has over half a million individual stories based on the Harry Potter universe. There is a thriving, online fan fiction community, with roles (such as a “beta,” someone who proofreads the stories before publication), jargon (such as EWE—Epilogue, What Epilogue?—or WIKTT—When I Kissed the Teacher, a collection of romance-based challenges involving Professor Snape) and feedback in the form of reviews. A fan-written series about James Potter (Harry’s oldest son, not his father) is being published. While not considered “canon,” the series has been approved by JK Rowling, with the stipulation that they be respectful and appropriate for children. Cosplay and fashion has been impacted as well. Harry Potter fans have been known for “dressing up” as their favorite character for midnight release parties for both the books and the movies. Stepping into a bookstore during the release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows would have had your vision bombarded with Hogwarts house colors, Death Eater masks and the occasional pink-haired girl. Candy from the series, such as Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans and Chocolate frogs, are available in stores, and Potter-related clothing and merchandise are widely available in mainstream stores such as Hot Topic and online retailers such as The Noble Collection. There are even several popular Potter-inspired bands, such as Harry and the Potters and the Whomping Willows, and small puppet mini-stage shows called Potter Puppet Pals.

The face of movies has easily changed with the Harry Potter series. The eight movies were always on the cutting edge of special effects and CGI. The series is known for flying broomsticks, jets of light from a wizard’s wand, and magical creatures, like Aragog (a giant spider) and Fluffy (a three-headed dog). It has also had a significant impact on the economy and the movie theater industry. The eighth and final movie alone brought in over $1.3 million worldwide, and is the third top grossing movie of all time. All of the movies are well within the top 50; Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, the least grossing film at $796, 700, ranks at number 33.

Perhaps the most interesting impact the series is the emphasis on charity and activism. JK Rowling released three supplement books for charity. The initial two, Quidditch Through the Ages and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, were released for the charity Comic Relief. The most recent, Tales of Beedle the Bard, was released to the public for the Children’s High Level Group, which has since been re-named Lumos after a common light spell in the series. She had also auctioned a hand-written copy for nearly $4 million, the proceeds of which went to the same charity. It’s not just Ms. Rowling that focuses on charity. She has inspired her readers to become activists themselves. One such organization is the Harry Potter Alliance, which describes themselves as a “Dumbledore’s Army for our world.” They are widely known for their work concerning both Haiti and Darfur. They have recently started “The Deathly Hallows Campaign.” They have identified several of the world’s main problems (labeling them “Horcruxes” after the shards of Lord Voldemort’s soul Harry and his compatriots sought out and destroyed during the final book) and are working towards eliminating them. The issues, or horcruxes, are bullying, world hunger, depression, the media’s perception of beauty, global warming, child slavery and illiteracy. There are seven “horcruxes” and several have fitting, Potter-inspired names. The depression issue is dubbed the “Dementor Horcrux” after the creatures introduced in the third book; Dementors are beings that feed on the happiness of people.  Thus far, the Deathly Hallows Campaign has made a significant impact in raising awareness on these issues, as well as playing an active role in ending them.

JK Rowling’s work has played a vital role in the modern world and has become pervasive in nearly every aspect of pop culture and society. The books and movies have all been released (though Ms. Rowling has recently announced an upcoming project that will bring Harry Potter both to the internet and to future generations—Pottermore) but the impact of its message has carried will continue to be felt for generations to come. Harry Potter, bespectacled boy wizard, has become more than just The Boy Who Lived. He’s become The Boy Who Changed the World.

Way More Fun In Neon!

Assignment: Descriptive essay using a photo, ad, or screencap. We were supposed to describe the photo, and also demonstrate what the photographer MEANT to say, DID NOT mean to say, and how the photo reflects on our society. Blah blah blah.

What I used:

Way More Fun In Neon

     It’s a scene you can imagine being played out in millions of American households each day. Framed by colorful finger paintings and Crayola crayons, a mother and her child face one another, spending quality time together. The genuineness of their smiles manages to light up the photo and a viewer can’t help but be struck by the child’s obvious innocence.

The first thing you may notice is the way the light dances off of the little boy’s flaxen curls in a contrast to his mother’s straight, mousey brown hair. They contrast in other ways, as well, with her plain white blouse almost reflecting attention back to the shades of blue her son is wearing. You can sense the obvious difference, the drab professionalism of the mature mother against the bright, almost shining, playful innocence of childhood, but you can also sense their unity. They clearly radiate their affection for each other.

Almost as an afterthought, you may notice that the little boy’s tiny toenails are painted with a vivid, neon pink polish. You may not have even noticed until after reading the caption, written by the mother, Jenna: “Lucky for me, I ended up with a boy whose favorite color is pink. Toenail painting is way more fun in neon.” In fact, on the table in front of the pair, almost snuggled in next to the crayons, is the bottle of nail polish. When you notice Jenna’s hands are holding his small feet delicately to allow the sticky polish to dry, you can almost feel the sharp scent of wet nail polish tickle your nose.

This image is part of an advertisement by clothing retailer J. Crew. There are two items on this page that the company is trying to sell the viewer. One is, of course, the bottle of brightly colored pink nail enamel, marked with the brand “essie.” The other item is a gray-and-white striped pullover sweater that, ironically, is not part of the image. It actually feels very out of place in its muted tones, next to so much vibrant color and energy.

What J. Crew really seems to be selling here is the happiness, energy and innocence that this family has. By showing us a snapshot into their lively Saturday afternoon, we want to embrace that innocence and to imitate it. It makes us want that little pink bottle that we barely noticed. After all, it’s way more fun in neon, and why would we not want to capture that for ourselves?

Despite its innocence, the image is not without controversy. To some, putting nail polish on a boy is simply scandalous…let alone pink nail polish! The photographer surely didn’t intend to spark a massive debate on why our society has such a celebrated image of gender roles, and how staying within those clear lines keeps a child from potentially “turning” homosexual or transgendered. Unfortunately, it did.

However, the fact that this photograph made its way into such a widespread publication certainly shows us that we are at a turning point as a society. Our collective ideology is shifting from clear “girl” items (such as pink nail polish and baby dolls) and clear “boy” items (such as blue baseball caps and Tonka trucks) to a more tolerant and accepting approach to both child-rearing and LGBT lifestyles. Perhaps it also shows a change in our attitude of cause-and-effect in terms of sexuality, in that it is becoming more widely accepted that there is no clearly defined “cause,” and a more liberal, well-rounded approach to raising children will produce more well-rounded, accepting adults. Painting a little boy’s tiny toenails pink is no longer as scandalous as it once would have been, partially because of this shift in our society and partially because the image conveys so much positivity.

Yes, this advertisement did receive a lot of press, both celebrating it and opposing it. But in a way that is a very positive thing. This image, in all its joy and picturesque glory, was brought to the forefront of our minds. J. Crew released an ad that rode like a wave, helping along the slow erosion of the banks of narrow-mindedness.

 

UPDATE: This got a 95%. There were a couple of careless typos and a word that was used incorrectly, but other than that, woot. I corrected this one, so you’re not plagued with my stupidity!

25 Things I do NOT want to do before I die.

I saw this somewhere, thought it would be funny.

1. Purposefully eat an insect of any kind. Yes, I know people do it all the time in other countries, but I’m just not down with it. This also extends to cats, monkeys and dogs.
2. Think “Hey, I bet my hair would look good if I get a perm.” No. No, it does not. I have 2nd and 3rd grade photos to prove it. I was a gap-toothed poodle. Never again.
3. Ever, ever take one of those weird-in-the-bathroom-taking-a-picture-of-myself-with-the-seriously-unattractive-duck-face-pose. I honestly wonder if those girls think its classy and/or attractive.
4. Engage in any kind of food eating contest. No one needs to know how many cheeseburgers I can eat in a 30 minute period. Especially not me. I will, however, extensively photograph it if anyone I know wants to do one. From the delicious first bite right up to the vomit-fest after. For posterity. Also, to make fun of you later.
5. Attempt to get on reality TV in any way. People just don’t need that much information about me. This includes anything relating to Maury or Springer, as well as pretty much anything on TLC. YouTube doesn’t count in this, unless it is super attention-whoring, in which case, slap me.
6. Get a tattoo while drunk. Love tattoos. Hate impaired decisions connected with permanent results.
7. Go to any kind of Star Trek or Star Wars convention. Comic book, anime, cosplay and furry conventions are all fine. But no one is getting me in a Princess Leia costume or wearing a red shirt. I know what happens to the dudes in the red shirts, and Princess Leia looks like a retard with her hair like that.
8. Have a Twitter account. Twitter is the AIDS of the internet.
9. Type “u” instead of “you,” “r” instead of “are” or otherwise make any kind of shorthand that people have to look up. Yep. I’m so old that I had to Google what “smh” and “hmu” meant.
10. Stop wanting “more” in my life. I never want to get to a place where I am complacent. There is always more to life…more faith, more research, more learning. More everything.
11. Attempt to fist fight someone as entertainment. If it’s an emergency situation, I’m sure I’ll be just like a stealthy, lethal ninja. But until then, I’d prefer to make people wonder. Or just outright think that I’d get my ass kicked. No UFC for me.
12. Raise my child(ren) with the concept of “Is this gender appropriate?” in mind. Dom is getting a baby doll for Christmas. I would let him be a pretty, pretty princess for Halloween. I’m not even close to joking.
13. Be a crazy cat lady. Firstly, pretty much everyone in the neighborhood hates the crazy cat lady because she’s always yelling at them for riding their bikes on the sidewalk in front of her house, or leaving their Christmas lights on too late (not because it bothers her, but because its running up their electric bill). Secondly, I hate cats. They’re disgusting. Also, even when fresh litter boxes are available in every single room of the house, they will opt to pee on your bed, coat or purse. And your house always smells like stale Meow Mix and cat piss. Mostly cat piss.
14. Be a bitch to anyone working in a restaurant. I’m pretty much of the philosophy that you should be as nice as humanly possible to the people who are in charge of the food you are about to ingest. Working in the food service industry, I have heard stories. So, if you find yourself in a crabby mood, and snap at the poor McDonald’s cashier or your waitress, totally expect spit, pubic hair, or something more terrible in your food. Seriously. Think about that.
15. Name a child Nevaeh. It’s not unique. It’s not cute. She’s going to grow up to be a meth head or a stripper. Either way, not the ideal child outcome.
16. Be “born again.” I mean this in both ways. I’m not interested in going through any kind of ritual where I am “born once more” so that I may start my life over anew. If I think I need a do-over, I should just use the point I realize “Fuck, I messed up” to fix everything. Also included is the whole “born again Christian” thing. Everyone I have ever met that was a born again Christian went right back to being a douchebag. This is not knocking Christians. I’m okay with Christians. This is knocking douchebags who want to hide behind religion to mask their hate, racism and “God will forgive me for doing pretty much anything.” If this God is going to forgive you for molesting children or killing a guy on the street for the contents of his wallet, I would really rather not hang out with Him.
17. Get sucked into a cult. I’m way too likely to do so. Like, I will watch Sister Wives on TLC, and think “DAMN, I should totally be a polygamist.” I mean mostly “purple kool-aid” cults by this, and not small religious sects or hippie communes. How could you hate a hippie? Besides the smelling bad part.
18. Go hunting. I’m down for learning to fire a gun. I’m down for learning to do it accurately. I even possess a permit to actually OWN guns. But when it comes down to killing Bambi’s mom, I draw the line. If I were to ever kill an animal, I would obsess over the potential babies it left behind that are now starving to death because I thought it would be fun to kill something at random.
19. Become one of those people everyone hates because they are constantly shoving their own beliefs down your throat. Like, I have a cousin who is now a “vegan” and she’s constantly telling EVERYONE all about how its the ONLY way to live, with gruesome detail. Also, she and her kids look like they could be extras in the Twilight movies. Pale, thin, sickly and have dark circles under their eyes. Clearly, they are a shining example of why you SHOULDN’T have a damn chicken quesadilla. They are a the picture of health. Or the picture of people who get family services called on them. I always get those two mixed up.
20. Operate any kind of saw. This one is more practical, as I nearly cut off my hand in the 8th grade with a bandsaw. Also, as a side thought, why DO they have shop class in Jr High? Doesn’t it seem kind of stupid to allow teenagers with short attention spans and raging hormones to be left in charge of spinning blades of terror? By the time I had my accident, the first aid kit was completely depleted from other woodworking injuries. Seriously. I bled through the hallways with the benefit of a couple of paper towels. And I wasn’t the last. The shop teacher, like 3 weeks later, lost the tips of his first 3 fingers on the same machine. Clearly, not a safe class. Funnily enough, I had to actually threaten the nurse to call my mother. They were gonna give me an ace bandage and send me back to class, despite the whole I-haven’t-stopped-bleeding-and-can-see-the-bones-in-my-wrist thing. BUT they sure did call and demand that they go pick up my little brother from school when someone in my class told him, in gruesome detail, how my blood and shards of my bone were scattered around the shop. He fainted. THAT was an emergency. The whole 50-stitches thing, not so much.
21. Pretend to be someone I’m not just so people will like me. If you don’t like me as me, fuck you. Who cares? This is not high school.
22. Use a spray tan. I’m so short, and I really don’t want to risk looking like an Oompa Loompa.
23. Quit something I love. I don’t really have a bunch of bad habits, and obviously, if I loved cocaine or something, this would be excluded, but if I love it, I’m gonna keep doing it. If they tell me tomorrow that vanilla soy chai tea is going to make my left eye pop out of my face and give flies a cozy breeding ground, I’m still probably going to drink my damn tea. I’ll probably wear an eye patch though. Its like a big, pirate-themed band-aid.
24. Do anything old-people-ish. I will not spend 15 minutes counting out correct change. I will not point out to random strangers that their barefoot child’s feet must be soooo cold (unless they’re like…walking barefoot in the snow, and then all bets are off), or start any converstation with “Back in my day…”
25. Give up on the things that are important to me. I’m not going to stop annoying people with my camera flash. I’m not going to stop asking too many questions. I’m not going to let my boyfriend marry me wearing overalls (He wants to. I’m serious. Like Old McDonald or something), and I’m sure as hell not going to let people make me feel bad for the decisions that I make for myself or my child(ren).

Ta-da!

That was way harder than it should have been!

Mommy vs. Mommy

Assignment: Write and essay on any topic that comes to mind during the class period. (This one was “Graded” and returned as insightful and one of, if not the, best in the class…I had been pretty sure it was rubbish.)

Mommy vs. Mommy

In everyday life, people with common interests and places in life tend to form a united front, and we all live under the banners that front provides us with. There are Democrats and Republicans, rich and poor, geeks and jocks, even silly ones like Team Jacob or Team Edward. There are religious groups, ethnic groups, and groups based on nearly every aspect of society.  We’re taught from an early age, with things like scouts or team sports, that we should put ourselves into neat little boxes, and then defend those boxes.

Surprisingly, motherhood is one of the most disjointed and judgmental banners a woman can stand under. Many women will enter motherhood with a traditional warm-and-fuzzy image of other mothers…helpful, caring, and full of sage and anecdotal wisdom. But in many cases, they enter a harsh reality where every decision they make for their child is judged, whispered about, and criticized.

Twenty years ago, if a mother let their school-aged child ride his bike around the neighborhood all afternoon, it was encouraged as a good thing. The general idea then was that children should play with other children and should have as much exercise and fresh air as their little lungs could handle. Now, if a mother would allow her children to ride their bikes unsupervised for even an hour, she’s criticized as neglectful, and possibly, unfit.

Of course, that is just one example of the frenzy.A mother bottle feeding her infant in public would be subject to snide remarks and dirty looks. Conversely, a mother breastfeeding her infant in public would be subjected to an all-out scandal. In times gone by, if a child misbehaved in public, they received a swat on the backside. Today, that would result in a visit from a social worker. Stay-at-home mothers judge working mothers. Mothers who allow their children to watch television and play video games are seen as stunting the intellectual growth of their kids. Even things as simple as vaccinating your child against life-threatening illnesses can cause other mothers to treat someone as a social pariah.

We live in a world of Mommy vs. Mommy. It is a sad fact of reality that a young mother reaching out for advice and assistance can no longer get it without being made to further doubt every decision she makes. In my opinion, mothers should all realize that other mothers have their child’s best interest at heart, and to respect and support that person’s individual choice. Our world is divided enough, motherhood itself is hard enough. We should all be able to fly a unified banner.

Kodachrome

Assignment: Reflective Essay

Kodachrome

There has been a picture hanging up in my grandma’s hallway for as long as I can recall. The photo shows her in a flowing blue floral dress standing next to a man that always reminded me of a brunette James Dean with his debonair posture. When I was younger, she would tell us about the picture in every vivid detail from the dress she wore, to how the man was very romantic that day, to even the type of film she used in her camera—Kodak’s Kodachrome film.

My grandmother has since had several mini-strokes. The strokes have damaged the portion of the brain that memories are stored. What she can remember varies day-to-day and her reality is always skewed.

The last time I was able to visit her, we were going over old pictures. This particular photo came up. She described, as always, the details: she was a bridesmaid for her best friend Jeannie’s wedding. It was a warm, breezy day. That dress was made especially for her, because Jeannie’s mother had been a seamstress. The dress is still in the back of her closet. I could nearly recite the story, I had heard it so many times. But then she looked at me, with a mixture of anger and confusion, and asked me if I knew who that man was. She was so mad that he had intruded in the memory that played out in her mind, and almost demanded to know who he was. His name was Al and she had dated him for nearly twenty years. His entire existence has now been completely wiped away from her mind.

Certainly other examples show us that the damage is much worse than forgetting a man who has been dead for more than a decade. Photos of me also hang in her hallway. Some are embarrassing kindergarten school photos, some are snapshots of vacations she took me on when I was young. Out of all of her grandchildren, I was the closest to her. While most teenagers spent weekends at parties, I baked with my grandma and we stayed up late playing Scrabble or cards. I went to take-your-child-to-work-days with her. When I started noticing that she wasn’t herself–forgetting to turn off the burner on the stove, trying to drive the wrong way down a one-way street–I moved in with her to keep her safe…But now she insists that she never saw me as a child, and if she didn’t know that my son was her great-grandson, I’m positive she wouldn’t believe that I am her granddaughter.

For me, this has cemented the importance of making memories and taking pictures of them. Thinking about my grandmother as she was—that woman in the old, faded photographs, full of life and laughter—is difficult for me to remember when I’m faced with a woman who can’t remember all of the memories we created together.

Fortunately, there are boxes of pictures that she has taken over the years. They are, as far as I’m concerned, a complete blessing. Sometimes, they will jog her memory, and she’ll remember that particular trip to the country fair or how climbing up to the top of the Portland Headlight took forever. Other times, despite the blankness and confusion we see on her face, the photos help us remember her as she was. It helps us cope with the situation.

As, little by little, I watch her become a shell of her former self, I become more and more overcome by the fear that I will one day be like her. The thought that I could someday look into my son’s eyes and see a stranger terrifies me. I think, though, that taking as many pictures as possible while making as many happy memories as we can is crucial. My son will never know my grandmother as she was. He’ll never stand on a chair next to her and learn to fry chicken, or get excited every year because he knows that she’ll make him whatever outlandish flavor of birthday cake that his little heart desires. But he will be able to see the pictures that show she was that kind of person, ones of her with her children and grandchildren in the kitchen, playing Parcheesi or even the weird ones of her teaching one of her many dogs how to play Yahtzee. Those pictures will help us pass along the stories, the wisdom and the love.

I think that without my family’s experience with dementia, our outlook would be entirely different. Holidays and special events are now just as much about creating photo opportunities as they are for the memories themselves. For some of us, taking “happy” pictures is more important than actually doing anything for us to think back upon fondly. With the new generation of my family expanding, we want to be able to capture as much of the happiness as possible, because the sad reality is that happiness is a fleeting thing and time has a way of stealing away our mark on the world. With pictures, we can fight that. Photographs, no matter how trivial or faded, show that we existed, that we made memories, that we made people happy. It’s a kind of immortality.

To me, the more pictures I can take, the safer I feel in that my loved ones and I will be remembered as we are and not what we become. We can’t cure my grandma, but we can make sure that we remember her as the strong, loving woman she was and we can pass that along to our children. Pictures make us immortal in the hearts of our loved ones. That is more precious than anything in the world.

Kodachrome
You give us those nice bright colors
You give us the greens of summers
Makes you think all the world’s a sunny day, oh yeah!
I got a Nikon camera
I love to take a photograph
So, Mama, don’t take my Kodachrome away

-Paul Simon, 1973

Prompt:

Write a 200-300 word short story beginning with “They had nothing to say to each other.”

They had nothing to say to each other, Anita thought tearfully. She’d thrown him out. Fifteen years of marriage, gone in an instant. Thrown away for a meaningless fling with a meaningless tramp. How could he? And with his secretary, no less? She would laugh at the cliché if it wasn’t so damned painful. Oh, god. What would the neighbors think? She could practically hear them gossiping now, shaming her in stage whispers. What would she tell the children when they asked why Daddy wasn’t coming home?

She thought of how casually he’d mentioned it, his face empty of emotion. How he’d watched her break down, but made no move to comfort her, no move to apologize for his infidelity.

What had she done wrong? Wasn’t she pretty enough? Didn’t she do all the things a good wife was supposed to? She wracked her memories, struggling to find answers, but all she could think of was their wedding day. Every detail came back to her. The soft lace of her white gown…the subtle scent of roses in her bouquet…The dimples in his smile when he saw her coming down the aisle…

Their vows.

Anita stopped crying and realized she would never be able to go through with a divorce. She loved him too much, couldn’t bear to fight with him for months, maybe years over the house, the car, the stupid crystal vase in the foyer. She couldn’t face the gossip and the backstabbing of the nosy people in their small town, couldn’t bear it. She knew that their marriage was over…they would never again be man and wife. But she couldn’t divorce him.  After all, she’d said her vows.

‘Til Death do us part.