The dating woman in 21st century America

Well I fully intended my next post to be an update about India and visiting my sister in London/Oxford and I promise that is coming. And in all honesty I was going to go to bed but I think that some truth needs to be shed on something that maybe we overlook in the day to day.

Let me first say that I am truly truly blessed to live in this day and age. I live in a country that with religious freedom (although sometimes the denigration of Christian is becoming more and more apparent), I live in a world where I can say what I feel, be what I want, and do what I want. Which is more than many women have around the world but I don't want those around me to forget that sometimes our culture is so "forward thinking" that we go backwards.

Before I left for India I heard the song Blurred Lines. I loved it. It had a great beat and a catchy tune. Two days ago I heard the lyrics. Today I saw the official music video and I am ashamed that this is something that I danced to.

In case you don't know, Blurred Lines is a song sung by Robin Thicke featuring well known rappers T.I. and producer Pharrell Williams. Now I have to admit that in listening to the lyrics they don't seem all that bad. Only one line really stuck out to me as grossly inappropriate but that didn't put me off. But after watching the music video, which was intended to be a "tongue in cheek" video mocking the current rap industry I have to say that they stepped out of line. In this topless women in thongs are dancing around fully clothed men. Sad to say that this is not unusual when it comes to music videos but what really got me was a teeny tiny stop sign on a woman's rear end. At this point when in conjunction with some of the lyrics from the song I got the strong impression that they were completely ignoring something that has been bothering me lately about our country. The idea that no does not always mean no. But hey it's ok cause Robin Thicke has a wife and kids. That makes it ok to hold women to such a low standard socially and a high standard physically (seriously all those girls were a size 0 with huge [fake] breasts).

We have been making ridiculous strides in our country over the past 50-60 years. Women no longer have to work from home, they can be the breadwinners, we have women lawyers, judges, congressmen, and senators. These are amazing feats and we should celebrate them but we still have a long way to go. We are honored for our brains not just our beauty. Or sometimes we are. In some areas we are. But sometimes in very big ways, we are not.

Take for example the popular website imgur. Imgur hosts photo sharing in which photos are shared for laughs, to reflect political ideals, religious ideals, to bring awareness, to show off drawings, or just to feel connected. I have an account on this website but many a times I have been told "to get back to the Kitchen" or "Go make me a sandwich" mainly because of my sex. This is regardless of the fact that I have a degree from a top university, make just as much as the men in my department, and that I probably have a firmer grasp of who I am and what I can do for the world that some of the people on that website. Purely by a choice of an X or a Y I am relegated to serving food. Let me say clearly - SCREW THAT.

I have chosen for myself what I am going to be in life. Right now I am a late 20s world traveler. If you took the number of cities and countries and states that I have been to and added them together that number might be higher than the number of miles some people have been from their house. Maybe later I might be a mom, even more I might be a stay at home mom but that is a choice I will make WITH my husband when the time is right. It will not be defined by the gender that I was born.

Sadly not all my choices get to be my own. When going on a date, I take extra precautions. If I am lucky I might have known the guy for a while. More likely than not, a friend has vouched for him. But as this limits the number of dates I would go on and possibly the number of amazing people I would meet sometimes the inevitable date with someone you might not know all that well is... well... inevitable.  In this scenario, as a woman I might take precautions that men don't have to. I tell my roommates the guy's name, where we are going, how I met him, a time they can expect me home, and maybe his cell number. In case, you know the Morgan from the BAU needs to rescue me. The truly sad thing is that I do not find this weird. It is something I have done since I started dating. This is the norm.

On dates, I have to be clear and upfront from the beginning what the expectations are. Most times guys understand and if all they are looking for is sex, we part amicably. Sometimes, they don't get that my saying "it is late, I am going home" IS my final response. I had one guy ask me three times in the space of 5 minutes to go back to his place with him. The first round of denial was not accepted as the final answer. When it became clear that my intention really was to end the night by taking a taxi home I was called a bitch and a tease. Oh not to my face. No, it was under his breath. Asshat. The truth is that these guys are not common in my life but even once is too many times.

Now not all guys are dangerous, heck 90% of them are really genuinely amazing and nice guys. I am proud to say that I know a lot of these guys. But the chance that one isn't a great guy is too great of a chance to take with my safety. The numbers are staggering. Even when a rape is reported, which is an astonishingly low percentage (estimated at around 45%), only 12% result in arrest, 9 % are taken to trial and only about 3% of rapists will see a day in jail. (all stats from RAINN).

This need to protect myself won't ever really go away. I will always be physically weaker than most men but when songs have lyrics in it like "I know You want it" and "I know you're an animal, it's in your nature. Just let me liberate 'cha" (but hey it's ok cause normally he respects woman and can prove it because he is married) it makes me feel like this ideal is being perpetuated instead of halted in it's tracks. That we are making the world more dangerous instead of trying to make it safer.

Summer Vacations: Kiawah and Grandpop

When I was younger a lot of our friends and family use to joke about the "summer sabbatical" that the Bakers would take come the end of swimming season. Usually the Saturday after the last meet we would strap on the trusty turtle car top carrier, load up the car with luggage, swim gear, beach house activities, and attach our bicycles and we were off on our month long trip to visit family.

Our visits consisted of a week at St Augustine beach in FL with my mom's family, a week in the smokey mountains, and a week at my grandparents house and then another week or two at Kiawah Island with my dad's side of the family. My grandparents owned a time share house walking (or biking) distance to the beach and we would rent another house from their friends down the street. Our beach time was filled with turtle hunts (trying to find baby turtle nests hatching at 6 AM not killing them), crabbing at the dock, and reading on the beach. And maybe a severe burn or two, although those were mainly mine. Our lunches were rolled down in coolers and we ate dinner in any dinning chair we could find back at the house. There was a pool fairly close and usually our parents would insist on giving us a week of tennis camp regardless of the fact that the rest of the 51 weeks in the year we never even looked at a racket. (Kristen was the shining exception to this rule). One summer I even managed to get surfing lessons instead and, before being promptly stung horribly by a jellyfish, managed to stand up on my ridiculously long foam board.

Relaxing on the dock

Everyone needs the Khaki and White T Look

Some of the best memories that I have of Kiawah are on our yearly boating trips. Grandpop was never a big fan of the beach (he loved those golf courses though) so every year he would take us out in a boat that we would rent for the day. Grandpop was always the captain. I remember him being a very big man with a very big presence but as he got older his gait was a little less steady. That gait changed when he was on the boat. As soon as he set foot on that boat, he had sea legs like no one else. All 6 of us grandkids managed to flounder our way onto a seat somewhere but that Big 6' 3" man would swing one leg over and start barking orders. (But to be fair to him he always barked orders.)

We would cruise around the marshes of Kiawah and St Johns Island. Fishing, crabiing, swimming, and freaking out about what touched our leg in the murkey water. Although usually it was just some scared fish and a slightly more threatening crab, one time my dad caught a shark. A small one maybe a foot long, but that was enough to convince me that I needed to stay dry and retain all 10 of my toes.Lunches were fought over and debated as to whom actually wanted the ham and mustard sandwich instead of the refreshing PB&J. We found islands to explore and felt the wind go through our hair as Grandpop manned the wheel.

Some of the best times were when we would each get a chance to be captain. Grandpop would call us up to stand in front of the captain's char and would let us steer. His arms would wrap around us to lay one hand on the throttle and the other on the console on the other side. Many times his time worn hands would cover ours to safely navigate canals or to ensure that we didn't capsize. This day out was his day with family. He didn't enjoy the beach like we did so he gave us a day with him. A day to explore like we couldn't on land. To say, even though he didn't frequently say them out loud, that he loved us.

It has been a while since I have been to Kiawah. I try to make it there every other year but sometimes work prevents me. This year I get to go back the week of June 10th. I can't wait to be there, to take a break from work, to relax in the sun, to read something other than CPA exam material, and to enjoy the beach. Maybe this year we can take a boat out and remember the man who made one day in a sea of days seem special every year.

When I was 16 I got his old car. He was telling me drive
safe and to not get into an accident cause then he would kill
me himself. One of the few times I heard him say "I love you " first.

View from the Dock at Sunset

Sister Trips

My mom and her sisters had a wonderful tradition when I was younger. Every year they would meet up for a week, sometimes in a brand new city and sometimes down in Atlanta, and have a sister trip. It was a great trip that they got to spend time together as adults without the responsibility of taking care of kids and husbands. For a week they got to be just sisters.

Unfortunately for those not in the rankings of sister this equated to being taken care of by Dad for an extended period of time. Some of the funnier baker stories have come out of these times. My father is an amazing dad and I constantly feel blessed to have his guidance and love. But I also freely admit that he could never take the place of Mom. I know this due to experience. Many times while I was living at home and mom was gone we would get chicken broth soup for dinner. That’s right. Broth soup. Hot flavored water. One time dad got so adventurous as to try and make us quiche disregarding the fact that Kristen is a picky eater, I didn't like eggs, and none of the four Baker kids had ever had quiche before.

Those weeks of momlessness were filled with stress of food and carpool duty. After a while we managed to get it down with a minimal amount of fuss. By the time I went off to college we had learned that Wawa and Dominoes pizza were our friends and that the kids had to keep track of each other because we couldn't leave Kristen at church AGAIN.

The best thing about sister trips is that Katie, Kristen and I got to have our own. After I graduate college and was momentarily unemployed, Katie was accepted into a study abroad program in Oxford, England. The fates conspired and had Katie ending her spring term right around the time I would be finishing my tour of the European continent and Kristen had spring break. It would have been wrong not to take advantage.

At Tower Bridge with our friend Mia

Katie at her Fave tea drinking spot in Oxford

Come that March we all met up in London and had a very confusing and fun couple of days before heading to Dublin, Ireland for St Patricks day. I can honestly say I have never had as much fun on any trip as I did with Katie and Kristen in those cities. I had to pay a price for that fun though, in the form of an all out row with Katie on the streets of Dublin at 2 AM.

On the Ha' Penny Bridge in Dublin Ireland, March 17, 2009

I should mention that Katie and I, if you don’t already know, are no where near peas in a pod. I am more of a berry on a bush and katie is a wildflower in a meadow. As far apart as you can be. This often results in fights as we learn how to communicate with each other and realize that what we were thinking is not what the other is thinking. Luckily we had a very patient and understanding youngest sister who knows us both so very well she could translate for us.

“Jessica, Katie isn’t suggesting that we go to Bath AND London AND Oxford AND Belfast. She is throwing out different options as she thinks of them. Katie won’t have made a decision until she is boarding the train for the next city”

Traveling is such hard work

“Katie, Jessie thinks that you have made a decision regarding where you want to go next. She could care less WHERE we go as long as she can plan it out so that we aren't sleeping under a bridge”

We ended up spending the next day roaming around Dunlougahary (P.S. I love you anyone?) and then heading back to Oxford. Which as it turns out regardless of multiple plans and counter itineraries  you can still get robbed.

My last sister trip was with Kristen after her semester Studying Abroad was over. Kristen, Grandmom, and I met up in London, showed Grandmom the sights (including seeing Les Mis for the first time) and then shipping her off home while Kristen and I hit up Barcelona (the only city between the two of us that we hadn't both visited and wanted to). I got to use my smattering of Spanish and we learned that the Spaniards don’t start partying until 2 AM. Well past either of our bed times.

This year my sister Katie will be going back to Oxford to be a graduate mentor to those in the program that she was a part of 4 years ago. Maybe this will be another opportunity for a sisterly trip. Or even better, we include John and make it a Baker kid trip.

Either way if someone I know is over seas (I am looking at you Ali) I will find a way over so that I can experience all the cultures that I can before settling down.

Kinder Gentler Jessie

When I was growing up I had a soft shell. Everything that even remotely could be considered a dig (even if it was playful ribbing) was taken as a insult or demeaning. It didn't help that in my small middle school there was a popular crowd and the very UNpopular crowd (you can guess which one I was in. Hint: not the first group). I wanted desperately to fit in and I couldn't manage it. I was (and still am) socially awkward  To protect myself against hurt I tried to create a tough outer shell and biting attitude. The attitude, ironically, only got worse around the people who loved me the most.

Luckily I have wonderful parents that understood what was going on. Instead of berating me for what I can only assume was an over reaction to everything, they would lovingly tell me "Kinder Gentler Jessie". I remember my parents telling me that they loved me for who I was and that they were sad that I was hiding behind a tough exterior. They showed me that although the world is tough and sometimes hurts that I didn't have to be like it. I could continue being who I was. Every time I was sharp and had a mean edge my parents would quietly say "Kinder Gentler Jessie".

This lesson still applies in my life today. Although I feel I grew up and let go of most of the hurt from the past, sometimes the actions I learned long ago still assert themselves. One particular Friday I was having a really rough day. Work wasn't going well, I was frustrated, and I didn't feel like the situation was going to be better. The fact that the weekend was hours away did not make this feeling any less. In fact, it felt worse because the week was over and I felt like nothing had been accomplished from Monday, that I had just been a spinning cog in a wheel. I was talking to a close friend of mine and was taking out my frustration and presenting a hard front which resulted in me needlessly harsh and judgemental. The response was quick "I don't think I like Friday Jess."

In a flash I was back in my kitchen hearing my mom's voice saying "You need to be a kinder and gentler Jessie". I apologized to my friend and tried to remember that I do not have to be a reflection of my situation.

Proves that sometimes a lesson is never fully learned

The Friendzone and My Perspective

You like a guy/girl and three things can happen:

1) They like you back! Congrats! Go forth into the world and clutter our facebook newsfeed with unnecessarily cute things.
2) Ew gross you have cooties. Console yourself with some Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Fudge. But don't worry, plenty of fish in the sea.
3) "Aww you're so great! Your like a sister/brother to me, I wish my significant other was more like you." Welcome to a special sort of Hell known as the friendzone.

I have had the unfortunate experience of being in the friendzone as well as having (regretfully) friendzoned some people in my earlier college days. It's a crappy crappy place to be and I know how much it can suck but let me tell you something. It isn't anyone's fault. To those zoned: Just because you are nice to him/her doesn't mean that you get a free pass into the sacred halls of dating them. Being nice is just a basic necessity of being human. Just because you are there to listen to their problems and give advice doesn't mean that you have a right to a date or two because listening and giving advice is what FRIENDS DO!

This also doesn't give free reign. To those doing the zoning: If you are asking your friend to go get you Stouffers mac and cheese at 2 AM from the 24 hour Walmart 45 minutes away because you just can't STAND Kraft, then sorry chicka (dude) you are taking advantage of your friend. You also can't treat them as an occasional hook up buddy. It's not fair to treat their affections as an emotional buffer. The best way to determine if you are taking advantage is to compare your actions with them to what you would do with another of your friends. If your best friend wouldn't do it then there is a good chance if they were acting only in friendship they wouldn't be doing it either. If you ask for these favors AND you are aware of their feelings then you need to evaluate your personal values and they should evaluate whether you are worth their affection.

In the end there is always a choice to be made: to stay friends with this person or to get some distance. If the decision to stay has been made then those zoned need to accept that they may only remain friends. I am not saying that one can not exit the friend zone and end up with the object of affection (my ex boyfriend was friend-zoned for a while before we dated) but the chances of it happening are slim. If the decision has been made in favor of distancing thmeselves then both parties need to let that happen. The emotional well being of your friend should take precedence of the need for the friendship.

Mema's Table

It has been almost a week since I left the quiet sleepy town of Elberton, GA where my grandparents live. I am back at a desk with a ringing phone, a worn out calculator (ok it is fairly new), and my trusty laptop and I am missing my grandmother's kitchen table.

This may seem weird but to anyone who has ever been to my grandparents house would understand. It is the  central location of the family. Meals are eaten with laughter, elbows in other people's faces, fighting over plate space, and the remainder of the last baker sweet tea. This is also where we play our card games. Spades are played with humor and a need for a win. Victors are crowned and the defeated slink off while the reigning champs (Whitney and I) take on the long standing duo of my Aunt Jan and Aunt Jill. Hearts are played where Judge tries to shoot the moon every time and fails. Katie and Kristen watch Grey's Anatomy. Dad puts the finishing touches on the Christmas Card mailing list and Deda shows us grandkids how he uses facebook and his new wireless printer (he's pretty technologically savvy for an 83 Year old.) When I was younger we used to all get together and play dominoes. I can still hear my family's voices yelling "Heyy Y'all! It's my time!" (for my northern friends that translates as "Hey Guys! Stop it! It's my turn to play").

The table has seen us grow up. Has been damaged and repaired. Dirtied and cleaned. And I can't even count the number of pies, cakes, and desserts that have been eaten upon it, not mention the gallons and gallons of sweet tea. The dogs of years past and present have hid under and around it when they finally find a way to sneak past Mema's well fortified door into the house.

This table, though only piece of well made furniture, has seen the generations gather around it as a family. I can not imagine the stories it could tell.

I am yet again on another audit. My tables are hotel desks and I am away from even the surrogate family of roommates and friends. I can't help but think one thing...

Vacation was too damn short.

Looking back at 2012

Inspired by the wonderful blog posts by my sister, Katie, and the wonderful Allison Lebo, I have decided to look back at 2012.

This year I:

Went to two different Continents that I had never been to before

Visited 6 States I have never been to before.

Saw five amazing couples get married. I was a bridesmaid for the first time in Lauren Bixler's wedding and now I can't wait to meet her new son CJ. Two of these weddings required me to come from or go to another continent right before or after (sometimes both).

I got my second tattoo on my hip with my sister on the Vegas Strip to which many of her friend's exclaimed "The BAKERS got tattoos?!?!"

I started a Blog, which I thought was only for English majors who could write, but learned it was all about being vulnerable to strangers and a patience for the editing process.

I moved in with some of my best friends and we have fought, argued, laughed hysterically, cooked, and lived together in a way that I hadn't experienced since college. We have endured the process of painting rooms, hanging decorations, melding styles, paying bills, and painfully putting up a blue spruce in our living room.

I went on a date where I knew it was a date and could appreciate the manner in which I was asked out even if it didn't work out in the end.

I reconnected with old friends, made a few new ones, lost a couple on the road of life, and are still quite unsure where I stand with a few others.

Jumped into a freezing  river for the second year in a row and still couldn't get the courage to dunk my head under water.

I made taking CPA exams a hobby. I passed one and failed five others. I learned that I am a tortoise and not a hare. It's going to take me a bit to get this done but I am not discouraged..... yet.

I have paid off two student loans, gone on a cruise with my grandparents and mom, bought my fourth comforter in three years, and have still yet to complete any fitness regimen I start.

I have written bad poetry, read amazing books, saw movies that moved my soul, and read bible passages that lifted my heart.

My family seems farther away physically than ever before but it has made me appreciate my time with them. I would rather play two games of hearts laughing hysterically with John, Dad, Mom, and Judge than to study for an hour. I can always pass an exam but those moments are fleeting.

2012 has been very generous with me. Although there have been stories that make your hair curl and heartache and frustrations, the blessings I have been given far outweigh every thing else.

Here's to the old and I can not wait to meet the new.

What I am thankful for

November has always, at least for Americans, been a time where we can reflect on what we have and be thankful. Many people over social media, blogs, and vlogs, have been doing their day to day remembrances and I want to join in the fun. Unfortunately I can't be a daily blogger (sorry) but I can be a  one time blogger so here we go - The 7 things I am most thankful for.

1) My safety. Sandy and then Athena have shown me how blessed I am to have been spared even the mild inconvenience of a power outage. My heart hurts for those that have lost their homes and mementos. I wish I could do more than to send supplies and clothes. 

2) Amazing roommates. I am living with two of my good friends from College. It is great not having to get to know them on a base level. I have lived with Caitlin in the past and while it took some time to get used to it again we have hit our rhythm. Learning to live with Dana has been fun. While Caitlin and I are similar in many ways - Dana is the complete opposite from me and it has been a joy to get to learn new ways of doing things and getting to see the world the way that Dana does.

3) My Family of course :) I have always held that my family is one of the best out there (as I am sure many people do). I have grandparents that have nothing but pride in their grandchildren and simply enjoy watching us grow and become our own people. I have aunts and uncles that enjoy seeing their families and having crazy Dutch Blitz or Spades games. I have Cousins with whom I thoroughly enjoy spending time. Even though I am 4+ years older than all of them, age never seems to matter when we are together.

I have parents that have supported me and my siblings regardless of our actions and delight not only in their kids but in each other. They are my example of Happily Ever after. They make love real. Katie is my opposite in every way. Where I am reserved she is outgoing. Where she is spontaneous I am planned. We spark each other. In our youth these sparks became fights. Now in our adulthood they (mostly) mean a thorough adventure. Katie says we go and I find a way to get us there. Kristen is who I aspire to be. She is confident in who she is. She is quirky and fun and humble and outrageous. She frequently acknowledges her hate of spelling and then says that it instilled in her a knowledge that some things have to be fought for. John is the lynch pin of our family. He is truly spoiled. We didn't realize what our family was missing until he came along. He is fun and sweet and love sports and is so smart that he makes me sick. And popular. That kid walks into a room and everyone wants to be his friend. 

4) The boat that is my car. The Caddy has taken good care of me though you can't really same of me for it. It is a well made car and I don't think that I will need a new car for another couple of years which means that, hopefully, I will have enough saved up to just pay cash for a new one.

5) My Job. I got my job in the middle of the worst part of the economic downturn. Luckily I was a part of a program that was trying to get off the ground and it was spearheaded by the CFO. I had a job when people I graduated with were fighting tougher and tougher competition to get what jobs there were and the number of those jobs had dropped dramatically. Through that program I got to do something I love, auditing, and auditing has taken me to the west coast, Canada, South America, and Asia. The travel is tough and I complain about it some but some people never leave their home town and I feel extremely lucky to experience new cultures (biggest lesson I have learned: Argentines REALLY do not like that Las Malvinas are under the British Crown).

6) My Faith. And for so many reason and much bigger reasons than the one I am going to put here but if it wasn't for my faith I would be a push over. No really. I am a people pleaser to the extreme. If it wasn't for the faith that I believe in, and my need to actually defend and stand up for it, I might have compromised on a lot of issues that aren't even related to my faith. 

7) Penn State. College is where I decided to come into my own. I made friends with a ton of great people, lost a friend for a while, had a boyfriend, and shortly after graduation got a tattoo. Got an amazing education. Learned to have school spirit (never had it in middle school or high school). Most of all, I became Jessie. I was on my own and making my own decisions. I admitted my love of hip hop, country, sci fi, and other genres of reading beyond romance. Though I continue to grow, Penn State is where I stepped out of my parents house and started taking responsibility for myself. Those 4 1/2 years were amazing and I wouldn't trade them for anything.

I love storms!!!

When I was little I was terrified of storms. I mean I was was really really really piss your pants scared of them. At the time my parents lived in Charlotte, NC which frequently got the tail end of hurricanes as well as the normal everyday thunder and lightning storms.

As an adult I can understand where that fear came from. Imagine a little two year old with white blond extremely curly hair seeing flashes of light and hearing big roaring sounds and not understanding where they came from. To remedy this my parents did something that I thank them for every single time a storm rolls around. My mom and dad would take me out onto our back porch, which was small but covered, and would hold me as we sat and watched the rain come pouring down around our house. With her calming voice saying "wow look at that one Jessie. That was a BIG flash of light" or his loving voice murmuring "That was a really deep rumble. I felt it in my tummy." I slowly moved from quivering under my dad's arm, face hidden in the crook, to sitting comfortably on his lap enjoying the beauty of something so fierce.

This became our thing to do. When we moved to Yardley, PA we lost the back porch but made up for it by using our garage. As our family grew, so did the company. Katie, Kristen, John, and sometimes Rebel (most times he hid in the closet) would join us sitting in folding chairs, getting excited to see the fury of a raging storm. Often one of us would just jump out of our chair, throw off our shoes and run into the slashing rain. It wouldn't be long before the rest of the siblings and dog would join in the fun, laughing and running around. I am sure the neighbors thought that we were crazy.

To this day, I still have an absolute giddiness about a big ass storm. When I heard that hurricane Sandy was due to hit Philadelphia head on I was so excited. My roommates and I got all the necessary preparations. Stayed in doors during the worst of it and I eagerly looked outside to see the roaring intensity to hit the northeast since 1903.

I wasn't let down. There wasn't any thunder or lightning and not a lot of rain but the wind more than made up for it. Hearing the wind rage outside my window late last night with the memories of being held safe by my dad when I was younger and celebrating in the rain with my siblings when I was older, I dropped right off to sleep.

Story of my friends through pictures

 Alpha Delta Class  Phi Sigma Pi

 Trip to DC/Baltimore to visit Lou

 Wedding of one of the sweetest woman ever

 My PSU crew in Philly to watch us crush Temple

 My amazing group of friends that say "OK" when I ask

to jump into a freezing river for charity

 Some of my Fave PSPers in Las Vegas celebrating Becca's Bday

 The crew at the wedding of Mike and Lori

 This girl is who I get crazy with even though 

she is all the way out in Montana

 Somewhat yearly pilgrimage to State College for Artsfest 

 Out with my PSPers

 Trust me - it's cold in the polar plunge

 Halloween SuperSenior year

 Fantastic Pictures

 The Church Crew

 The best way to move a couch is to

support it out of the trunk as your friend drives the 

car around the corner.

 Front Row to support the Nittany Lions

 PSP block for the whiteout

 Showing our THON family our support

with a great outing to watch the Lions play ball

 Winery Tour

 I miss this Crazy girl!

 Sledding in Manayunk

We're bad ass! Warrior Dash

Remembering the victims and brave heroes

Tuesday September 11, 2001 I sat in Latin class as one of the girls came in late and announced that a plane had hit a building in NY. No one really paid much attention because we didn't know really what had happened. Somehow someone found out that it was the WTC and a jet airliner had crashed into it. We turned on the TV in our classroom to see the second plane hit. Our jaws dropped. A half hour later, we heard that the pentagon had been hit. We didn't know what to do. We were inbetween NYC and DC, were we next?

The principal of our school came onto the PA system to tell the school what had happened. During that announcement, the TV showed the wreckage in Shanksville, PA of the flight that didn't make it's destination. Since many people in our area commute into NYC for work, those who had parents in NYC were allowed to leave class and head to the office to call home. Many didn't come back as they drove home to wait to hear from loved ones. The principal requested that we keep the TVs off. Most of the teachers complied but our thoughts were with those in NY. 5th period chemistry we turned on the TV. The teacher wanted to know just as much as we did how this happened. Two flights had hit. This wasn't an accident.

The news broke that it had been a deliberate attempt by those in the Taliban. No one understood. No one had heard of this group before. I had. My sister has long been called to Afghanistan to work and minister to the women there. I knew this group. It was the group that my sister would be opposing while she was over there. I had always thought of them as a foreign thing. An oppressive regime that was far away. It affected my sister, it would never touch me. I learned that day how wrong I was. The TV suddenly cut off as more information was coming in on who and why and how. The principal had finally found the switch that turned off all the TVs.

That day changed me, it changed us. As Americans, Christians, Muslims, Athiests, Parents, Children, Siblings, spouses, or whatever you were. We heard through the grapevine who had been pulled out of class, who had gone home because they couldn't be in school anymore and most devastatingly, one girl sobbing in the hall because her family just found out her dad, who worked in Philly, had got called to an impromptu meeting in NY that day in the world trade center. They hadn't heard from him.

I grew up that day. Maybe not a lot but I grew up faster on that day than any other day since. When I got home my mom asked that we leave the TV off. She told me that the news was showing things that she didn't want the other kids to see. I went upstairs and turned on the TV in her room. I saw videos of men and women jumping out of the higher floors. People running as the buildings collapsed. I heard my mom telling me of our neighbor and friend, Dr Gokcen, going to NY to help those who had been wounded. I heard my Sunday school teacher was suppose to be in the city but God wanted him to bake muffins, causing him to miss his train to the city and waiting for the second train that never came. I heard that our township firefighters and policemen were going to help. A four hour drive but the much needed support was vital.

I witnessed our president declare war. Stand up and say we will not let this pass. I saw school buses with tiny arms waving flags out of windows. Songs were written that only barely scratched the surface of emotions of that day. People came together and for a brief time we were not republican, democrat, black, white, rich, poor, man, or woman. We were Americans. And every year we put aside those dividers and remember those that were cruelly taken from this earth early, those that risked their life to assist those that couldn't make it on their own out of the tower, the passengers who knew that death was a certainty but had the fortitude to ensure that no more lives were taken, the brave men that ran into a burning building to help where ever they could, and those strong men who held out hope combing through the wreckage for one more survivor. Seeing things that should never be seen and yet preserving onward.

We will never forget. I will never forget.

My dream church

I want to go to church with the people who have tattoos. I want to go to church with people who have gauged ears, nose rings, lip rings, and wear chains. I want to go to a church with ex-cons, current cons, and future cons.

I want to go to church with people who fake tan, get their nails done, and color the crap out of their hair. I want to go to church with bikers and those immersed in the drug world. I want to go to church with Catholics, baptists, presbyterian, lutherans, mormons, ex wiccans, wiccans, buddhists, hindus, Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster (in laymans terms Pastafarians), agnostics, atheists, and those that just needed somewhere warm to sit for an hour.

I want to go to a church with Soccer moms, stay at home dads, work-a-holics, alcoholics, drug addicts and prostitutes. I want to go to church with families that have a mom, dad, 2 and a half kids and a dog. I want to go to church with single moms, single dads, baby mommas, and baby daddys.

I want to go to a church where people struggle. Where everyone knows that everyone struggles. I want to go to a church that people say Hi to new people who come through the door and then get their life story. I want to go to church with Republicans, Democrats, Green Party, Torys, people who don't care about politics, and people who care waaaaayyy to much.

I want to go to a church where people don't leave after sermon, they ask how people are doing and get support for their own problems. I want to go to church with anorexics, bulemics, over eaters, under eaters, health nuts, gym nazis, vegetarians, carnivores, omnivores, vegans, and gluten frees.

I want to go to church with homosexuals, bi-sexuals, asexuals, sex addicts, transgendered, hermaphrodites, and those that just don't know who or what they are. I want to go to church with people in their 20s who want to change the world. Those in their 30s, 40s, and 50s who are changing the world. Those in the 60s+ who have stories and lessons to be shared about how they did change the world.

I want to go to a church with people filled with joy, despair, happiness, generosity, charity, grace, anger, peace, frustration, hurt, sarcasm, hate, hope, and maybe someone with all of those at once. I want to go to church with people who are rich, poor, just making do, on food stamps, work 3 jobs to pay rent, and those that are living off inheritance.

My dream church has pastors that share their real life struggles. Tells the hard truth about life, love, marriage, job hunting, money, and being a christian and what it means  - all without using vague euphemisms.

I want a church that scares the world, gives hope to the world, and comforts the world.

I want to worship next to the broken and sing praises with the redeemed.

I want to go to church with me.

My dream church leaves all the doors wide open. Does not support causes but supports people. Stands in the face of adversity, not with demonstrations but with compassion. But most of all my church LOVES UNCONDITIONALLY.

Hello. You are more than a Bird

I guess I should start by explaining the name of this blog.

About a year and a half ago I was getting ready to move from my first real apartment in a city I grew up in with friends all around to a city where I only knew one other person. I was moving there for my job for a temporary 6 months position. I didn't know where I was going to live and I was pretty sure that I wasn't going to be living with a roommate.

I had been stressing about it and it wasn't helped by my mother (who is very loving and really just looking after her procrastinating "chick") who was asking almost constantly if I had found a place to live. I didn't want to look for a place to live and was hating that I was going to have to move to this city, even temporarily. That being said I WAS looking and WAS stressing not only about where to live but how I was going to get all my stuff there.

In my not so frequent bible time I really felt God was putting Matthew 6:26 on my Heart.

"Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?"(NIV)

At the time I thought it was referring to the job that I currently had which was very challenging for me but I slowly came to realize that God wanted me to rely on him to provide for me. Once I began affirming that verse in my life (really I kept on panicking and saying "I am more than a bird" "I am more than a bird" "I am more than a bird" over and over) God opened a wonderful place for me to live.

One of my coworkers lived in that city and had recently bought a new house with his Fiance and needed to sublet his apartment. The rent was double was I was willing to pay and told him that, although I would love to sublet, it was beyond what I was willing to pay for an apartment. A month went by and the offer was once again given but at half the price of what he was paying for the rent. It was decided that I would pay half the rent ($500) and he would pay the other half. Since he was on the lease I didn't have to worry about him flaking off on the rent and He trusted me enough that I didn't have to sign a sublet agreement because I was basically taking the apartment sight unseen and he didn't want to lock me into something I wasn't happy with. He really is one of the nicest people I have ever met.

The apartment was in a great neighborhood with neighbors that always looked out for each other. I went into the shop next to me and one of the really nice old men that owned the shop asked where my young man had been lately. The only time a guy had been to my apartment was 2 weeks ago and it was  another coworker helping me move in a TV stand that I had just bought from Craigslist. It was walking distance to the local restaurants, half a block away from the gym, and a block away from the river.

The second God thing was the actual move out to the city. It is only about two hours away from where I was living at the time. I rented a small uhaul, got my best friend, current roommate, a guy friend, and his son to help me load it up with all my stuff. My guy friend was nice enough to drive the Uhaul out to the new city with me and his son riding shotgun and whatever the name of the middle seat is. My best friend was amazing and drove my car out to the new city. The only other girl I knew in that city met us at my new apartment, which I had only seen once when I went to get the keys a couple of weeks earlier, with her guy roommate. Within a couple of hours we had put everything into the new apartment and they had mostly arranged my furniture and my best friend had help me set up my bed so I at least had something to sleep on.

Within a few weeks I was attending a church I really enjoyed. Had a met a few friends and was starting a relationship with someone (which turned out not to work out but it was a good experience).

All of this would not have been possible if I had not trusted God. He gave me an apartment and moving plans within 4 weeks of praying and left me a month of relaxing knowing that he had taken care of me.

Frequently as I have been going through my life and people are telling me of things that they are going through all I can say to them is that they are"More than a bird".

This verse has become so real to my life that I hope to get a small silhouette of a sparrow in flight tattooed in white on my inner wrist (I already have a tattoo of the Chi Rho on my foot).