It's Thanksgiving, bros.

My wish with this list is to comically relieve you of the seriousness the holiday season brings. ;) I kept a list this week of things I am thankful for, but no. No, no. Not a sappy list of the people I love (I think that's pretty obvious). I wanted to provide a list of unconventional blessings; and thus this list was born. I hope you have a blessed and hopefully hilarious Thanksgiving!

I am thankful for... (in no particular order)

ice cream

sunshine (when I get to see it)

smiles- smiling is my favorite.

my goofy, hilarious and extremely vulgar co-workers. One day I randomly revealed this thought to the office: "Isn't the concept of having a pet dog really bizarre? We could choose to domesticate any animal. We could have pet squirrels. And we choose dogs only." After our regional manager stared at me for a few seconds, she responds to my epiphany, "You're f***ing f***ed in the head, man." Needless to say, I stood in her office and cried... from laughter. 

shrimp

Bailey's- Not only does it make my last name seem cooler, but it also promotes under-the-table alcoholism (i.e. Bailey's in your coffee).

kind souls- I'm a sucker for a kind soul.

little kids in glasses- also a sucker for little kids in glasses.

my cat

Harry Potter

Led Zeppelin

anger management- Even though I've never been (although it's been suggested), I can always use it in a sentence and scare the pants off of people. "I didn't go to anger management for this." It's believable and terrifying.

Tina Fey

long-sleeved t-shirts

rainy nights- Since I already cannot/do not sleep, rain on the roof ca. 12am is like an actual lullaby from God.

Les Miserables- Specifically "I Dreamed a Dream." Singing/crying to that song in my car makes for some hilarious therapy. No matter how sucky your life may be, you're still not a French prostitute.

Beastie Boys (in the morning)

David Bowie (at night)

Random dogs that come into my office.

my intense hearing- If my senses weren't always heightened, I wouldn't ever have caught my neighbor outside in his underwear, throwing a pumpkin shot-put style.

delirious laughter- There is nothing as hilarious as the feeling of laughing when you have no idea why you are (hunger, sleep deprivation. I usually experience a combination of both. Ahem... ARCHITECTURE SCHOOL).

inappropriate laughter- Okay actually there is nothing as hilarious as laughing when you know you shouldn't be. 

The British Invasion- If these artists didn't storm the US, I would have no identity.

Disney

The weirdos on High Street who cause me to run faster (to get away from them).

Chuck Taylors

HAPPY THANKSGIVING, YA'LL! <3 font="">

Sorry, Not Sorry

My nephew fell off a stool a few weeks ago, but thankfully Super-Aunt (that's me) caught him. When he began falling and reaching for something to catch himself, he knocked my make-up bag off the counter. "I sorry," the two-year-old said (and totally broke my heart) as if I were upset with him. That is a basic example of a physical reason a person may have to "apologize."

I already cannot stand when people generally apologize for everything they do, but I get really upset when I notice that my female friends apologize for things that men do not.

A great friend of mine was talking to me about her job and her skills in her field. She said, "I'm sorry, but I am great with people and our clients love me." My response was, "Why are you sorry for that? It's a talent. Don't apologize for your talent."

If you know me at all, you know I am a pianist. If you know me well enough, you know I'm a good one. It's not a topic I shout about from the rooftops everyday, but it does pop up in conversation occasionally. When new acquaintances find out about my skill it's almost a guarantee they ask, "Are you good?" (This really makes me angry, by the way). Here is an appropriate list of answers I could give to that question: I can read any damn thing you put in front of me. I've had more recitals than you've had girlfriends. I am better than Taylor Swift. (Okay, that's not a very good answer). I am great. Here is the answer I always give, "I hope so."

It is ingrained in the female brain that being over-confident is the equivalent of being a "bitch." On the other hand, a lack of confidence is not attractive. This sounds like a broad generalization, but there are examples everywhere in pop culture. It's the plot to every teen-movie you've ever seen. The confident girls are popular and always portrayed as manipulative bitches. There is an underdog who makes bad fashion choices and has never had a boyfriend; the subject of everyone's laughter. The (by default) unattractive girl gets a make-over, then gets a little confidence, and suddenly! The man of her dreams. Because that is what truly matters! [I could get into real academic mode and breakdown examples of confidence racially, sexually, and socioeconomically. That will come at another time, likely to be in the form of film critiques.]

Most women try to hover around the middle (post-underdog status) by stating their confidence with an apology attached. Usually the apology is the prelude to the actual statement of self-confidence or knowledge of self. It's like saying, "Hey, I'm about to say something really nice about myself, almost like a compliment! But I don't want you to think I'm arrogant, so I'm going to apologize before I give said compliment."

Apologize when you step on someone's dog. Say you're sorry when you miss a birthday or worse, drop someone's birthday cake. Apologize for situations that deserve an apology!

If you did something great, celebrate it! If you feel beautiful, say it! Stop apologizing for your feelings, your thoughts, your opinions, and your talents.

I'm not a feminist, but...

I'm not a feminist but...

That statement has been thrown at me many times, by males and females. I am usually offended and always taken aback. I'm pretty sure I was born a feminist, so when someone is afraid to identify with that word it's kind of a slap in the face. It would be comparable to me saying, "I'm not a Caucasian, but..." If I display all the signs of being a Caucasian (i.e. buying a pumpkin spice latte the first day of the season, wearing leggings with Uggs) then I am a damn Caucasian. I might as well fess up and be proud. Okay, okay, I'll be serious now. That analogy was obviously a joke, but I really do encounter many people who are THE definition of feminism but are too scared to own it.

This is my way of explaining feminism: Have you ever witnessed something that you thought was totally unfair? Maybe it was something really elementary. Maybe you were walking somewhere ("provocative" clothing or not) and you were harassed. Maybe it's something deeper. Maybe your mom was abused your entire life. Maybe your sister was raped and the rapist roams free because laws against sexual crimes and the stigma placed upon victims in this country is a joke. Either way, you witnessed this "thing" and suddenly became very passionate about it. This "thing" made you think, "WOW THAT IS REALLY UNFAIR. I WANT TO CHANGE IT FOR OTHERS." That is how I feel about feminism. I have witnessed many unfair things in my life and most of the situations can be owed to sexism and to the general patriarchy. People sometimes laugh at me as if my passion is a stand-up comedy act. I'm not trying to be funny when I vent about street harassment, lack of sexual education, lack of women in congress, and violence against women. I am however trying to be funny when I make FUN of  the Kardashians, PSLs, Donald Trump, and leggings with Uggs. Do not get those mixed up.

I have dissected the reasoning behind the fear of identifying with feminism. Some of them are actually understandable. Some of them make me want to rip my own head off.

Social fear: Identifying as a Feminist will hurt my image.
This reason is one that makes me want to rip my own head off. I haven't ever "socially feared" much. I've worn snow pants under a pencil skirt on Lane Avenue for heaven's sake! My attitude toward the ridiculous things I do in public applies to my political views as well. I'm not (overly) obnoxious with them, but if the subject comes up I will not hesitate to voice my beliefs. I have had many a casual conversation with friends who laughed at my Women's Studies minor, insisting they couldn't take a class because it wouldn't be "cool." I have seen guys silently stand by while their friends woman-bash and degrade my gender, reducing us to bodies and sexual objects. (On the other hand, I have seen totally awesome guys make the jerks cut it out, stat!) I have spoken with adult men who try to flirt with me by calling my passion for equality "cute" because they're actually really intimidated by me. Men and women alike have this fear that if they passionately stand up for something, it will make them less cool in the eyes of their friends.. Or even worse. Facebook friends..



Tradition: Masculine jobs deserve masculine pay.
Traditionally men work in more physically-demanding jobs. Traditionally these men get paid more than women for doing more physical labor than women. No worries, I had this conversation with my Papaw (who is one of my absolute favorite people on the planet). I was a sophomore in Ohio State's grueling architecture program, and I had just declared my minor in Women's Studies. "Are you a feminist?" I asked him. He actually laughed. I got so angry that I couldn't see straight, and that is rare, my friends. I straightened that out real fast. I put it in perspective for him after he used the "Men should get paid more than women because they do more work" BS response. "So I work my ass off in architecture school, and I get paid less than the men in my position because I'm a woman? Explain that one to me." He couldn't because he agreed. He understands that his previous position was rather asinine, which is why I'm using this example. Miracles are real!


Feminists are a bunch of hairy, man-hating, radical, bra-burning wastes of women. 
NEWSFLASH: You don't have to be anti-man to be pro-woman. I would also like to add that I've been a feminist for years and that I am not hairy (although it's YOUR choice to be hairy or hairless and we will love you no matter what), I love men, and that I do wear a bra..sometimes (again- that's a choice!). This reasoning also goes back to the social fear and the fear that this word may taint one's image- Good golly! Feminists come in all races, genders, sexualities, ethnicities, and religions. Feminists come from all professions. Some feminists have no children; some feminists have eight children. Some feminists never marry. Some have been married three times. And some are with the one love of their life forever. That's the beauty of feminism. It's not limited to one type of person. And guess what! There are different types of feminisms! International feminism is one of my faves. There is a feminist movement for everyone! Own it!

Feminism is for weak women who need special recognition.
I have had a few male friends who make fun of feminism because a word that is clearly promoting women does not describe a movement for ALL equality (aka egalitarian). A very intelligent (male) friend once said, "I don't support feminism. We don't need it. Why should we treat women more special? What's that gonna do?" All I could muster was, "LOL U MUST B JOKIN." Okay so the conversation actually took place face-to-face, so I didn't have that reaction. I sat in stunned silence that this is actually a belief. Feminism is not about special treatment. It's about equality for EVERYONE, and since anyone who identifies as a WOMAN has been oppressed at some point in her life, it is a movement to eradicate that oppression and create equality for ALL. Honestly, I don't believe that we should have a women's history month, day, etc. We shouldn't have to have a special occasion for that because (great) women should be celebrated every day! And fellas, let me say, I love it when a dude can genuinely say, "I'm a feminist." It tells me that your head is in the right place and out of your privileged bums!

I'm not a feminist, but...

The truth is the "but..." is exactly what makes you a feminist. So get over it already!

Body Peace Pep Talk

Sometimes anorexia has a way of creeping up behind me and poking me on the shoulder to remind me she is there. I am very practiced in the art of turning around and punching her in the face. And that's what this is. It's a pep talk for me, but it's also for you. Because you deserve to feel beautiful. Everyday.

You need to stay healthy. There is so much that lies ahead of you; positive and negative situations that you have to be able to tackle. Don't give up now. You have marathons to run, countries to explore, adventures to create. By hating yourself you are limiting your amazing mind and eliminating great opportunities from your life. Hating your body will literally take you backwards. Who wants to go there?

You have a nephew whose happiness largely relies on your energy level. And you simply can't keep him happy if you're not healthy. You can't chase him, swing him, build his train tracks, or carry him on your shoulders if you are weak. Know what the best thing about him is? He doesn't give a flying crap what you look like! He loves you and thinks you're the most fun person on the planet! You must be strong for him.

You have a sister who looks up to you; not just her. So many other girls look up to you. You are a coach, and you are an instructor. When you see the innocence of the girls you teach, you must work to preserve that. You're not only coaching them in running or teaching them to play an instrument. You are teaching them how to treat themselves. They are learning how to love themselves from you. They are innocent of negative body image, and it's up to you to keep it that way. You must love yourself not only for your own peace, but so you can spread the peace to others. It is up to you to raise a more loving and accepting generation.

You cannot be a champion bug assassin if you are weak. Your roommate needs you to kill those big, nasty spiders, and your mind simply won't be as sharp if you're malnourished. But she needs you too. For more than the spider-killings. All of your friends need you. You're weird, silly, honest, and loyal. A lot of other weirdos rely on those qualities, and you can't be there for them if you're too busy hating your body.

That's the beauty of loving yourself. When you love your body, you are free.

It's my blog, and I'll cry if I want to.

Ever since I've been in my "twenties" (I say it that way because I'm only two years in!), I have been what people call a "crier." In high school, I never cried in front of people. Rarely even my mom. I  had many behind closed doors. When my great-grandmother Eulah passed away, I cried almost every night for months before and after her death. I had many terrible anorexic breakdowns over what my body looked like while I was desperately trying to shed pounds that only I could see. I was living a stressful, unfulfilled life, if we're being honest. It wasn't that I couldn't "feel" what others did, I just kept my emotions to myself because I didn't think I deserved to share them with others. I have always been a passionate person regarding life in general, so don't let my stint of stoicism fool you.

When I began to heal from my self-hatred, and treated myself with love, that is when I could begin to feel again. Feel so passionately. I also realized that this "crying" phase doesn't necessarily happen to everyone else. People who have normal, healthy relationships with themselves will never feel the emotional deprivation that other young people with eating disorders do. That's why my change in behavior seemed so radical three years ago when I decided to love and respect myself and emotions. My new feelings surfaced slowly and could range between touching and entertaining: I cried when I played piano at my Nanny's funeral and again later when I saw her brother crying for his loss. I cried when I returned from Europe and ran into my mother's arms. I cried watching the opening ceremony of the Olympics. I cried during a half marathon because I was so happy to be alive. I cried at graduation when I relived the journey it took to achieve that moment. I cried when I saw the Rolling Stones in concert (like, who just expects to be so near Mick Jagger in their lifetime?).

The most emotionally stirring event in my life so far has been my Papaw's fight against pancreatic cancer, and oddly that is what helped me to realize that I just "feel" differently now. Obviously I was devastated when I was told the news. I was scared, yet I was also determined. I trusted that he would never give up. The months of chemo and radiation leading up to his surgery could be a book itself, but the event of his surgery was the most risky (and scary). My family traveled to Baltimore, MD, where Papaw was being treated by top-notch doctors, for the operation.

We were all nervous for very clear reasons. What if something just went radically wrong? Saying goodbye to him in pre-op sucked. I hate leaving people, and he just looked so fragile. I tried to avoid the seriousness with some harmless comic relief. A nurse asked, "Mr. Redman, do you have any other metal in your body besides the chemo port?" I said, "Papaw, you forgot to take out your nipple rings." My family laughed and the nurse did too when he realized that I was joking of course. Eventually we had to leave him there, and all of us cried, including him.

When I was allowed to go back to see him post-surgery I was nervous. Only because I knew I would cry, and I was nervous for my family to see me (which is the most ridiculous fear ever). I walked frantically down the ICU hallway, fumbling with the hand sanitizer dispensers. I walked into the room, and when I saw my Papaw, I was flooded with so many emotions. I was reminded of the subconscious anger that I had felt ever since his diagnosis. I was sad that the man who raised me had to go through that. I thought it was unfair. I was relieved that he was even in my presence. There he was, months of chemo, weakness, radiation, and hours of surgery later, and he was laying there, alive. I started to cry because I was overwhelmed with relief and thankfulness. I was so humbled by my God. Papaw had just endured extreme amounts of anesthesia, blood loss, etc., and yet there he was, awake, doing his best to comfort us, well me at that point. He said, "Don't cry, baby. I'm okay." in a slow, weak voice. Which, naturally, made me cry even harder. My muddled response was, "I know. That's why I'm crying." It's as simple as that. I felt something, and I cried.

I used to think crying was complicated. I thought it made me weak. I was entirely wrong. Refusing to feel my own emotions made me weak. Now I embrace them and let others see them. It helps me to accept and love myself.

Cancer can make anyone cry, and that is the significance of it. No one judged me when I cried about my Papaw's situation, and I realized no one was ever judging me before when I cried about anything else. I was fooled by my own insecurities and perception of myself. Even though it's taken some crappy times to get there, I am so thankful that I can fearlessly and passionately show my emotions now. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I love meeting fellow criers. I hope you welcome your waves of emotions as healthily as I do now!

For the Youngsters...

There are quite a few fresh high school grads who mean a lot to me (even some college freshman-to-be-sophomores!), and I wanted to give them some advice that I wish was given to me when I was a baby high school grad with the world ahead of me.

1. Never do what is easiest "just because." Maybe going to a school close to home is what is right for some of you, but maybe it's not. So risk it. Go somewhere hours away. I love Ohio State with my whole heart, and I built a new family/home in Columbus. I also have important life skills now that I would not have developed as quickly if I lived close to home.

2.  Don't worry about declaring a major right away. So many people will pressure you (trust me, it never ends) to figure out exactly what you are doing. But you are SO young. Don't make swift decisions just to have some direction. Explore and figure out what you really like. More importantly, make sure you understand how the major will apply to the real world and how your actual job will function in reality.

3. Study abroad. My five-week long venture in Europe was not nearly enough, and I wish I had studied abroad more. Yeah you'll miss your family and boy/girlfriend. Yeah, it'll cost lots of money, but that's an experience no one can ever take from you. I cannot wait to go back!!

4. Keep graduate school (and your gpa) in mind, and don't blow your first year. I've never "blown" any class, but my first year had some tough ones! Studying in college is much different than high school. My first international studies class was so hard- only three chances for a grade! Just because it's your first year with general courses doesn't mean that it will be easy! Even though graduate school is years ahead for you, it will be something that will be on your mind the second half of your academic adventure. That's why you should be consistent (hopefully consistently good!) in your work habits so your gpa will be good enough to get into a master's program!

5. Back to the whole major thing, if you get over halfway through a program and decide you hate your life, don't give up! In this day in education, getting a bachelor's degree is only the first step! So if you major in say.. architecture school and decide to go to law school. ;) You're still fine! You may have some catching up to do, but do not panic!

In conclusion, you may think that college (if that is your immediate, post-high school choice) is your last resort for figuring out what you want out of life. Contrary to popular belief, it is not. Your desires will change as you grow as a person and you may decide you want something entirely different than you wanted as a twenty year old. People will always tell you to "do what makes you happy," but it's never that simple. Sometimes those people will not agree with what makes you happy. Sometimes you won't even know what the hell makes you happy. Just make your decisions one at a time, and NEVER settle!

Good luck, little graduates! Peace and love be with you!

<3 jamie="" p="">

Human Needs

Have you ever convinced yourself you need something that is totally unnecessary? But you make excuses to validate the urge? Like when you tell your mom you need some money for an work uniform when you completely intend on buying a new party skirt instead? That's how body image works. Especially if you have struggled with an eating disorder. There is always a voice in your head telling you what you need and what you don't need. It's there when you go to the mall with your mom, terrified that she will want a snack between meals, obligating you to share it. It's there when your grandparents take you to dinner and you hate yourself for days because you ate the entire meal. It tells you what you think you need. Thankfully I fought that voice off long ago. I realized that I am smarter and stronger than my disorder. I learned what my body actually needs to survive, but not in terms of calories. I concluded that I need to laugh many times a day, at the very least once an hour. My friends are fantastic for that since they are upbeat, wonderful individuals. I need the loyalty of an animal, and since I no longer live at home this means looking at pictures of my cat, and sometimes calling my mom to force her to let me talk to the cat on the phone. Speaking of.. I also need my mom because it’s nice to be babied every once in a while. I need my grandparents to ask me questions about "face page" so that I feel needed and important. I also need my 13 year old sister because she can provide a strange, adolescent comic relief like no other. In case you didn't see the trend, the things I need are not things at all. They are people. People that I love immensely. When I'm not around these people, I begin to miss them and yearn for their love. I have never missed my anorexic habits. I have never missed hating myself or bashing myself. I do not need those things. But sometimes I do need to talk to my best friend, because no one will understand better than her. I need to cry to my mom or I need to tell a joke to my grandparents. Because I need their love to survive.

When I was struggling, it's not that those people didn't provide me with love; I didn't love myself. We convince ourselves that we do not deserve to respect or even like ourselves. But that's the most important kind of love you need to beat the voice: self love. I want you to think about your needs today.

Look at the people supporting you today, here, at home, at school. They love you because you're amazing and you deserve it. Stop living with things you don't actually need. Get rid of the hatred and the voice. Live for those you love and need. Live for those who courageously fought the battle but lost. Live for yourself because you're amazing and you deserve it.

The Bridezillas of Hertfordshire

Synopsis: On this season of Bridezillas, the Bennet Family of Hertfordshire steals the show, with a few guests of honor. Brides include Jane, Elizabeth, and the young Lydia. Poor Mrs. Bennet’s nerves could almost not fathom the fact that three of her daughters are now married! Average neighbor Charlotte Lucas surprises the Bennets, especially good friend Elizabeth, with her marriage to the Longbourn heir Mr. Collins. Contrary to popular belief you will definitely want to be part of this crazy family when the season ends, take it from from Elizabeth’s fiancé. So don’t worry, fellows. There are still some single ladies in the ‘shire. Younger sister Mary Bennet is still on the market. And Kitty Bennet is taking numbers now to the dismay of her father.