If I Have to See It...You All Have to See It

Hoss was neutered yesterday (don't worry he's fine, if a bit sore). It needed to be done anyway and since we're watching my Dad's dog Titus for now (who's already neutered) and boy dogs are a lot less territorial once they've been neutered we went for it. Nate was a little uncomfortable with the whole thing. Here is his tribute to the sad event. If you had any hand in raising Nate now is the time to be a little embarrassed.

PS Click on the picture to see the words better.

St. Patrick's Day Post #2 - Music, Appetizers and Punch

Try this puzzle while you read:

Ok so last time I talked about necessary parts to St. Patrick's Day celebrations, besides the obligatory wearing green so you don't get pinched (which you should still definitely do cause no one likes to be pinched, at least in public). I listed music as one of those requirements. I hold by this. Having music playing while people are arriving and munching is pretty much critical to get in the mood.

The problem is I don't really remember a specific artist being emphasized. It seemed like everyone just brought any Celtic cds they had and we switched them around. That's why I mostly rely on the Irish and Celtic Music Podcast. I got it off iTunes for free and they even have St. Patrick's Day specials. Just a fun blend of music. You'll probably discover a few songs you really like.

Next, appetizers...one rule. Keep it simple! Remember St. Patrick's Day food can be a little heavy if you're not used to it and you don't want to fill up on little things before hand. I recommend the following:

• cheese and crackers
• veggie tray
• fruit (green grapes, kiwi, green apple slices for fun)
• spinach dip and a good bread
• hummus
• celery and olives filled with cream cheese (I know this one's kind of hokey but we always had it)

Most importantly...PUNCH!!!

I love green St. Patrick's Day punch. When I was growing up it was pretty simple: sprite and lime sherbet. I like to add some pineapple juice to give it a little something more. Remember it doesn't need to be crazy. People will love to just have a little and then drink a more regular drink for the actual meal.

And now to prepare for Monday when I post the recipes here's your shopping list:

• Corn Beef Brisket (get one for every 4-6 people, it will come with a spice packet inside)
• Cabbage (1-2 for each brisket)
• Carrots (I just buy a big bag of the baby ones- they're the perfect size)
• Red Potatoes- if you can find the little tiny ones for a reasonable price get them, if not bigger ones will work we'll just cut them up
• white vinegar and/or a good mustard and/or horseradish (this is for on the corned beef some people will like one or the other)
• a good soda bread or rolls

And here are your answers from the puzzle above. Did you get it???

Dear Oklahoma,

Dear Oklahoma Where It Is Snowing Right Now When Last Week We Had Temperatures In The 80's,

I hate your stinking guts.

You make me vomit.

You're scum between my toes!

Love, L

St. Patrick's Day Post #1 - Best Movies

Ahhh St Patrick's Day. How I love you!

Growing up St. Patrick's Day rivaled and maybe even surpassed Thanksgiving. It involved traditional American-Irish fare (Corned beef and Cabbage aren't Irish but American Irish if you didn't know. I'll share more about that the day I discuss food), movies, music lots of drinking and plenty of green punch. It was an awesome holiday devoid of a lot of the normal holiday trapping such as gifts etc.

When I grew up (or at least moved out of the house) it became important to me to have my own St. Patrick's Day celebration, especially since no school seemed excited to give me a St. Patrick's Day break to rival Thanksgiving break. I tried to start out small but it usually involved forcing all my roommates and close friends and neighbors to try corned beef and cabbage and green punch etc. It was marvelous.

Of course, as mentioned before, food is not the only necessity to a great St. Patrick's Day Celebration. Movies are key. Especially if you are like me and still haven't really gotten the timing of cooking dinner down quite right (I usually end up with something done a good hour ahead of schedule- probably the something that will melt- and quite a few things not done when everyone arrives). This is 100% necessary if you have had to strongly encourage people to be there or the celebration involves ANY children.

So I will help you. These are in no particular order, except Quiet Man being the best by far at #1.

Here is a list of my favorite St. Patrick's Day movies:

*I'm just going to take the descriptions off IMDB but will add comments where necessary*

1. The Quiet Man

Sean Thornton(John Wayne) has returned from America to reclaim his homestead and escape his past. Sean's eye is caught by Mary Kate Danaher(Maureen O'Hara), a beautiful but poor maiden, and younger sister of ill-tempered "Red" Will Danaher. The riotous relationship that forms between Sean and Mary Kate, punctuated by Will's pugnacious attempts to keep them apart, form the main plot, with Sean's past as the dark undercurrent.

This movie is an absolute must. I mean it has John Wayne playing a feisty American-raised Irish man. Maureen O'Hara is feisty and beautiful and the side characters are hilarious. Plus it has a freakishly long, good old-fashioned fight scene.

2. Darby O'Gill and the Little People

In the enchanted Emerald Isle, Darby O'Gill spins tall tales of leprechauns and banshees. Unfortunately, when he actually captures the leprechaun king and discovers their hidden gold, no one will believe him!

This was my favorite kids movie for St. Patty's Day. Scary banshees, leprechauns and Sean Connery: how could anything go wrong?

3. Waking Ned Divine

When word reaches two elderly best friends that someone in their tiny Irish village has won the national lottery, they go to great lengths to find the winner so they can share the wealth. When they discover the "lucky" winner, Ned Devine, they find he has died of shock upon discovering his win. Not wanting the money to go to waste, the village enters a pact to pretend Ned is still alive by having another man pose as him, and then to divide the money between them.

I actually don't really remember watching this one growing up. I saw it in college and loved it. Feisty Irish people!

4. The Secret of Roan Inish

10-year-old Fiona is sent to live with her grandparents in a small fishing village in Donegal, Ireland. She soon learns the local legend that an ancestor of hers married a Selkie - a seal who can turn into a human. Years earlier, her baby brother washed out to sea in a cradle shaped like a boat; someone in the family believes the boy is being raised by the seals. Then Fiona catches sight of a naked little boy on the abandoned Isle of Roan Inish and takes an active role in uncovering The Secret of Roan Inish.

Yea for Selkies! Beautiful coastal scenes of Ireland and a fairy tale feel.

5. The Commitments

Jimmy Rabbitte, just a tick out of school, gets a brilliant idea: to put a soul band together in Barrytown, his slum home in north Dublin. First he needs musicians and singers: things slowly start to click when he finds three fine-voiced females virtually in his back yard, a lead singer (Deco) at a wedding, and, responding to his ad, an aging trumpet player, Joey "The Lips" Fagan. Song by song, gig by gig, the Commitments start their climb to the top: Dublin gets soul. But internal strife also builds: Deco is insufferable, Joey's a Casanova, and Jimmy may lack the seasoning to hold things together. Will the Commitments slip away?

Maybe the first grown-up movie on my list. Some language etc but awesome music and tons of fun.

6. Finian's Rainbow

A mysterious Irishman, Finian, and his beautiful daughter Sharon, arrive one day in Rainbow Valley, a small Southern town of tobacco sharecroppers in the mythical state of Missitucky. The town has its own resident dreamer, Woody Mahoney, who thinks that he might be able to put the town on the map by crossing mint with tobacco so that it'll grow already mentholated. Finian's come to the town because he's stolen a leprechaun's crock of gold and plans to plant it in the ground so it'll grow faster (or else why would the Americans have rushed to dig the gold out of California only to plant it back in the ground at Fort Knox?). But trouble arrives in the form of Og the leprechaun, who has followed Finian to America and is bent on retrieving his gold. Meanwhile, the bigoted Senator Billboard Rawkins, in an effort to stop progress in his state in the form of a new dam and hydroelectric system, plans to take the remaining parcel of land needed to stop the project - Woody's, which Finian has purchased to save from the auctioneer's gavel. But then the government's geologists reveal to the Senator that gold has been detected on the property! Rawkins and his men confront the sharecroppers to seize their land using as an excuse an obscure law making it a felony for blacks and whites to live together, but when Sharon, outraged at this bigotry, cries out while standing right over the pot of gold, "I wish to God you were black ..." all hell breaks loose as wishes come true.

How to teach your kids to love the Irish, hate greed and be disgusted by racism. Stars Fred Astaire.

Honorable Mention:

Far and Away

A young man (Cruise) leaves Ireland with his landlord's daughter (Kidman) after some trouble with her father, and they dream of owning land at the big giveaway in Oklahoma ca. 1893. When they get to the new land, they find jobs and begin saving money. The man becomes a local barehands boxer, and rides in glory until he is beaten, then his employers steal all the couple's money and they must fight off starvation in the winter, and try to keep their dream of owning land alive. Meanwhile, the woman's parents find out where she has gone and have come to America to find her and take her back.

This one doesn't concentrate as much on Ireland itself but the American-Irish. But full of a young, hot Tom Cruise.

Post 100!

Interesting that as I decided to post this video I'd seen I realized this was my 100th post. I don't talk about my religion much here. Mostly because most of you know I'm LDS and either are yourselves or you aren't but we've talked about religion and Mormonism specifically.

That aside, I have been thinking about posting about my beliefs and experiences as a member of the LDS church for a while now and this video encouraged me to do so.

First off, I want it to be clear my beliefs are very central to my daily attitudes and actions. I think that's important. I believe the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to be true and so try to live my life by its precepts. This means things like going to church even when I'm tired, having prepared for and then going on a mission, living worthily and holding out to be married in the temple.

These things are important to me and while I will willingly discuss these things with anyone who seems in any way truly interested I also will not allow myself to be drawn into arguing or debating. I learned this best on my mission. I love to shared what I believe with people but if there isn't a spirit of understanding and tolerance it's not worth my time or heartache because NO ONE is learning or growing.

On my mission there were people who yelled horrible things at me or threatened me or tried to argue with me. There were people who were downright mean to me. Having said this, I really have been very lucky in the friends and even acquaintances I've had. I have rarely felt (outside my mission) what I would consider real persecution. In fact I can only name two instances I really felt persecuted. Strangely both these involved or were in some way 'caused by' very close/best friends. I don't blame them. They were each just trying to live their lives the best they could and I had an experience as a result of that that to me was negative. It's also important to note that had either of these experiences happened later in my life I would have handled them much differently, probably with a lot more laughter and calmness.

One happened in high school. In the LDS church we are strongly encouraged to not date at all until we're 16, and then to keep it to group dates for a while. My friend had just started dating a boy from school before she was 16. This was completely her choice and honestly not a huge deal. The problem came when a mutual friend of ours asked me out. I also was not 16 yet. I didn't want to date before I was 16 and the boy in question wasn't too much of a temptation to me so I politely declined. It was awkward but not horrible.

The issue came when he asked me (a little pathetically in my opinion) why. I told him in my church we're asked not to date until we're 16 and I wasn't 16. At this point my friend was pulled out as an example. He tried to make me say either A. she was a bad member or B. I was being ridiculous. I tried to avoid both. I just said whatever her decisions were I wasn't going to date until I was 16. This should have been the end of it. But for some reason he felt the way to win my heart was pressure and guilt.

He encouraged all of our other mutual friends to 'talk' to me about it. This resulted in almost every person in the group I was hanging out with my freshman year in high school pretty much telling me I was being selfish/stupid/uppity/rude/mean etc. It was literally awful. At one point he knelt in the outdoor quad area in front of me and begged me to 'consider it'. I don't even think he liked me that much. Throughout this whole situation I was reminded by each person that my friend was well-known for being a 'good' Mormon and had been a member all her life while I hadn't. Again I reiterate - I don't blame her. Her choice did affect my life but overall I'm grateful for what happened because it helped me grow. I stopped hanging out with that group regularly and found my own friends, all non-members, who supported me in my decisions.

The second experience came right after my mission.

Let me get this out right from the beginning- newly returned missionaries are pretty crazy. We've been in a place where we had to be totally circumspect in some ways because we're representing the church. On the other hand we can be crazy bold about other things because it's expected of us. This is very different from how you act among friends.

Well, my friend invited me to stay the night with her and some other friends and then go to Six Flags in the morning. I didn't know any of the rest of these people (except maybe one) and so was already a little crazy (remember from the very recently returned mission thing) and shy and just mostly awkward. The thing they decided to do right after I got there was watch the South Park episode about Mormons (please also remember I hadn't watched ANY TV in 18 months). Right this minute I could watch that episode (although I'm not a fan of South Park in general) and laugh and be pretty relaxed explaining what's real and what's not.

That night I could not. My brain couldn't decide if I was supposed to be answering these questions as a missionary or as a friend. Being a missionary seemed awkward and I honestly wasn't friends with most of these people. They asked question after question, trying to be curious not accusatory but to me it felt like I was being attacked. I couldn't seem to find my calm center and I felt miserable for the rest of the trip. Again, I don't blame my friend. She was trying to invite me to have a good time and meet new people and normally none of this would have been a problem.

I have used that experience as a template to allow myself to not get frustrated or overwhelmed. If I don't know an answer now I say "I don't know". If I'm not comfortable answering something I say "I'm not comfortable answering that". If I don't feel comfortable watching something I tell the people I'm with that I'm not comfortable and either they change it or I find something else to do. It's amazing how well the truth works. :)

Anyway, very long story short...here's a video of a young LDS girl at Harvard answering questions about her religion at what appears to be a multi-religion conference. I think she does amazing.


Day of Faith: Personal Quests for a Purpose - 3. Rachel Esplin from Harvard Hillel on Vimeo.

Artful Bras

I got this from Whitney and Aubrey's new blog, Hot Chocolate Talk. They're from an exhibit called "Ode to Breast Cancer" and, after the exhibit ends, will be auctioned off with proceeds donated to the Best Chance Network. Way to go Quilters of South Carolina!

My Favorites:

Actually Cute - Buttons and Bows and Boobs

Cracked Me Up (I'm pretty well endowed) - Look at Them Melons

Would Really Creep Me Out If My Husband Found In Any Way Attractive - Duckbill Mountains

Mitch Hedberg

Just thought I'd leave you with some Mitch for the weekend. He's my favorite comedian. I'm not exactly sure why he just seems so nice.

Heroes

OK so a lengthy paper to write, lab notebook to turn in and a broken work computer have slowed me down this week.

Note to self: NEVER get a virus on work computer again!!!!!

But this is pretty cool.

Stolen from Amanda

I've seen this a couple of times and sometimes it's really funny and sometimes not. Amanda's was hilarious. So here goes...

RULES:

1. Put your iTunes, Windows Media Player, etc. on shuffle.

2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.

3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS.



IF SOMEONE SAYS 'ARE YOU OKAY' YOU SAY?

My Immortal (Evanescence)

Hmmm...


HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF

Please Take Me Home (blink-182)

Oh dear...what will Nate think?


WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?

Janie's Got a Gun (Aerosmith)

Well, you know...



HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?

#1 Crush (Garbage)

Angsty...90's chick rock...


WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?

I Wish I Was a Girl (Counting Crows)

I'm hoping it means girl as in child not girl as in female...


WHAT'S YOUR MOTTO?

Vegetable (Radiohead)

Nate probably thinks so since I've seriously diminished the meat in the house


WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?

Wonderful (Wicked Original Cast Recording)

Ahhh the first one that really makes sense :)


WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?

Change Your Mind (The Killers)

Daddy say it isn't so!!!!


WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?

Not Coming Home

Just kidding lovey! Only if the dishes aren't done.


WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?

For Amanda: Blue Moon (Grease Soundtrack)

naked baths when we were kids...

For Christy: I Want You to Want Me (Letters to Cleo)

Not quite sure but I hope will Justin understand

For Sheena: Auld Land Syne (Manheim Steamroller)

strangely fitting since we used to listen to this CD together all the time and it's been a way long time since I've seen her


WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?

Just to See You Smile (Tim McGraw)

Obviously other people saying this to me ;)


WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?

The Kid's Aren't Alright (The Offspring)

So bad parent???


WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?

I Hope They Call Me on a Mission (InsideOut)

You members of the church are sick with mushiness right now.


WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?

Live High (Smashing Pumpkins)

Well this is embarrassing for those of you who didn't know


WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?

Come On Closer (Jem)

Nate say I do smack him when he tries to touch me when I'm asleep...


WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?

Small Stakes (Spoon)

Honestly, I'm just as confused as you are


WHAT DO YOU WANT RIGHT NOW?

Children on Parade (Colin Hay)

Doesn't everyone???


WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?

I'm Not Sleeping (Counting Crows)

Obviously you're all that disturbing.


WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?

No Road Home - Seeing the Bomb (Empire of the Sun Soundtrack)

Lovely Color Palette

It all started with me forgetting my wallet. I hadn't packed a lunch yesterday and then I forgot my wallet so there was no way for me to buy food. I mean, I could have asked my boss to loan me money but... Anyway I figured I was safe because we were having Food Day at work to celebrate Fat Tuesday. Food Days at my work are usually way over the top (owing to the fact that I work with a million old ladies).

So I decided it wasn't all that bad- I could just graze off of food day to get through the day and have a really good dinner when I got home. The problem was Food Day sucked yesterday! There was hardly any food and the stuff that was there didn't look that appetizing. Not good. I looked around for a while and finally decided on a rice and sausage mixture in a crock pot. It wasn't bad (wasn't really good either) but I figured I'd at least gotten something to tide me over til dinner.
Later I got thirsty so I drank some of the pink grapefruit juice I keep at the office and ate a couple of rice cakes.

Around 230 Nate and I were emailing back and forth and I told him we needed to make something really good for dinner since all I'd had was some rice and sausage and grapefruit juice. He emailed back asking what I wanted. I was in the middle of replying that I honestly couldn't think of anything that sounded good and I was starting to feel really sick when it hit me...

You know, the back of the throat mouth watering that is your body telling you it needs to get rid of something in your stomach??? I got up and started walking toward the bathroom (I can't ever remember a time I wasn't able to make it to the bathroom. Most of the time I don't even really vomit- I just salivate for a while, spit and feel better).

I few steps from my desk it happens. I start vomiting. I keep my mouth closed and start walking very quickly toward the bathroom. It's literally 20 feet from where I am- just across the hall. I am still vomiting over and over again in my mouth. Finally it is too much to hold in such a small space. It explodes out of my mouth about 7 feet from the bathroom door.

I retch over and over in the hall, not able to move to take myself any farther. I am literally bend over at the waist watching the customer service desk at my work as I continually vomit without being able to stop.

Finally it slows enough I can move. I run to the bathroom, get to a toilet and vomit a few more times. The sweet voice of some poor student probably scared out of her wits asks me if I want some paper towels. I say yes please. She brings me a whole stack. These is especially sweet since we have on of those motion sensor paper towel dispensers, which means she had to stand there, wave her hand, wait, wave her hand again...over and over. Nice girl. I try to say thank you without scaring her.

I wipe off my face as best I can and stand up. I go to the sink and then realize things are much worse than I expected. There is vomit everywhere on me. My sweater is literally covered in it. My sleeves, front, pants, shoes, face are all soaked in puke. I am actually amazed. This has never happened to me. I rinse out my mouth, wipe off my face and try to decide what to do with the rest of me. I rub a paper towel over my pants and decide they'll live.

My sweater however... it's all I wore today. It's been semi-warm so I decided I could get away with a sweater without a t-shirt underneath. I try to rub at it with a paper towel. That's obviously not going to work. Finally I give in and take it off completely. I put it in the sink and start rinsing it out.

About this time a woman that works in my office walks into the bathroom. She goes to the toilet, comes out, goes to the sink farthest away from me washes her hands and leaves. She never says one word to me! I mean she's not in my department but we see each other on a regular, probably daily basis. Next, same thing happens with a lady that is in my office. Someone I work with and talk to regularly. I once went downstairs to get her a drink because her feet were hurting her and the elevator was offline.

Finally a lady who works at the desk behind me comes in. She asks if I'm ok etc. I say I am but ask her to make sure the custodians are called to clean up the mess in the hall. She leaves. Around this time I've gotten my sweater as clean as it's going to get. I walk back from my desk and meet my boss who was on her way to check on me. She tells me to go home- even offers to drive me, even though I live over 35 miles away. I tell her I'll make it and if not I'll make Nate come get me. I leave, drive home take over everything that smells of vomit and go to bed.

Fast forward to this morning. I get into work late, can't find a parking spot, have to walk really far and then get to enjoy the embarrassment of walking by the wet spot in the carpet. Around 11 two of the young guys in my office walk by on my way to lunch. They say, "What's up Puke Dog?". Seriously.

It was probably the thing that made my day the best. They then share stories of my experience- including the fact that one of them watched my from customer service and didn't do anything cause he wasn't sure it was me. They talk about how one girl slipped in it cause she was too busy texting to pay attention. Of how the custodian got here, was grossed out, left and they had to call another custodian. All of this thankfully after I was gone.

And lastly they say one cute little girl made the comment, "At least it's a nice coral color..."

The End of Vanity

So my friend Laurel was tagged in an album on Facebook of her Senior year. That was my Junior year and we were in choir together so I found myself in several of the pictures. I honestly wasn't sure I could swallow my pride enough to show these to you. But once you've shared with people your infertility and talk about Not Rape it seems the epitome of vanity to not be able to show them pictures of you in high school. I don't think I realized how bad I looked. Don't judge me...

So bored...

Today I didn't get into work until after 1130. We were up late last night and I woke up this morning with a headache (Nate had a migraine). So I stay home sick for the morning and the sleeping in til 830 was fabulous.

However, since I've gotten here (it is now 4) I have responded to 27 emails. That's approx 1 email every 10 minutes. It's crazy. Normally I'm way busier than this and a little stressed but today it's soooo slow. It's like the universe is telling me I should have just stayed home and snuggled with my sweetie all day.

I guess it's ok though since last time I called he was doing dishes. YEA!

Calm Down

Dear Family, Friends and random person who stumbled here,

I am ok. I am not suicidal, traumatized or calling out for help. I was just in the mood to write something more serious and did so. I really do appreciate your concern and if you know me well enough to have my number you are very welcome to call me if you're still not sure everything is ok.

As a token of getting back to normal here's a video made by some high school kids to one of my favorite songs ever, Clark Gable by Postal Service.

Postal Service - Clark Gable

A Little More Serious...

I'm going to apologize for a couple of things. First, that's it's been a blasted month since I wrote. So irritating. And secondly, that I've been in much more serious mood lately, partially leading to me not posting. I don't think you're all that interested in super serious stories. I mean, we want to share hard things and good things on blogs but overall we want a piece of fun (or cheerful exasperation) from someones life. However, since I haven't been in the mood to write cheerful (not that I've been grumpy, just more serious) it's either post something more serious or not post. Maybe this will get it out of my system.

I'm first going to cautiously recommend a website called violent acres. I have linked to one of the stories I think is worthy of reading. I say cautiously because this site has a lot of language, and quite a bit of what I consider unnecessary meanness. But it's a good example to me of the deep emotional scars left by abuse. She can come across so well-adjusted and funny that you forget she is still a little crazy inside from what happened to her. I think people who haven't been abused will very rarely see or understand that.

The other thing I would like to post is an entire article called "The Not Rape Epidemic". I encourage both men and women to read it. It is so much more common than you think. I have a similar story from when I was very little that I'm certainly not comfortable sharing but the sentiment is exactly what I felt and still occasionally feel. The article is taken from this site.

Original Essay: The Not Rape Epidemic

*Trigger Warning*

Latoya’s Note: So, as promised, here’s the original version of the essay that appears in Yes Means Yes. If you see this popping up in your reader, I do not recommend you read it at work.

Rape is only four letters, one small syllable, and yet it is one of the hardest words to coax from your lips when you need it most.

Entering our teenage years in the sex saturated ’90s, my friends and I knew tons about rape. We knew to always be aware while walking, to hold your keys out as a possible weapon against an attack. We knew that we shouldn’t walk alone at night, and if we absolutely had to, we were to avoid shortcuts, dark paths, or alleyways. We even learned ways to combat date rape, even though none of us were old enough to have friends that drove, or to be invited to parties with alcohol. We memorized the mantras, chanting them like a yogic sutra, crafting our words into a protective charm with which to ward off potential rapists: do not walk alone at night. Put a napkin over your drink at parties. Don’t get into cars with strange men. If someone tries to abduct you, scream loudly and try to attack them because a rapist tries to pick women who are easy targets.

Yes, we learned a lot about rape.

What we were not prepared for was everything else. Rape was something we could identify, an act with a strict definition and two distinct scenarios. Not rape was something else entirely.

Not rape was all those other little things that we experienced everyday and struggled to learn how to deal with those situations. In those days, my ears were filled with secrets that were not my own, the confessions of not rapes experienced by the girls I knew then and the women I know now.

When I was twelve, my best friend at the time had met a guy and lied to him about her age. She told him she was sixteen and she did have the body to back it up. Some “poor hapless” guy sleeping with her accidentally would make complete sense - except for the fact that guy was twenty-five. He eventually slept with her, taking her virginity, even after he figured out how old we were. After all, it’s kind of a dead giveaway if you’re picking your girlfriend up at a middle school.

Another friend of mine friend shocked me one day after a guy (man really) walked past us and she broke down into a sobbing heap where we stood. She confided in me that when she was eleven she had a child, but her mother had forced her to put the child up for adoption. The baby’s father was the guy who had nonchalantly passed her by on the street. We were thirteen at the time, a few weeks shy of entering high school.

Later, I found out that she was at school when she met her future abuser/baby daddy. He was aware she was about eleven - what other age group is enrolled in Middle School? At the time, this guy was about nineteen. He strung her along in this grand relationship fantasy, helping her to cut school as they drove around and had sex in the back of his car. When she got pregnant with his child, he dropped her. However, living in the same area means she would run into him about once a month, normally leading to an outburst of tears or screaming fits on her end and cool indifference (with the occasional “you were just a slut anyway”) from him.

In high school, I had two Asian friends I was fairly close with. We would often end up hanging out after school at the mall with all the other teenagers our age. Occasionally, we would take the bus to the really nice mall in the upper class neighborhood, so we could be broke in style. It was there - in the affluent neighborhood - that my Asian friends dealt with the worst of their harassment. I can remember that each friend, on different occasions, was approached by older white men in their thirties and forties and quizzed about their ethnic backgrounds, ages, and dating status. These men always seemed to slip cards into their hands, asking them to call them later. My friends smiled demurely, always waiting until the man had gone before throwing their number away.

The years kept passing and the stories kept coming.

My ex-boyfriend had a friend who had been dating the same girl for about seven years. I found out the girl was eighteen at the time of their breakup. Eighteen minus seven equals what? The girl was eleven when they began dating while the man involved was nineteen. When the relationship ended, he was twenty-seven. I expressed disgust, and my ex had told me that while everyone else in their friend circle had felt the same way, the girl’s parents were fine with it, even allowing the guy to spend the night at their home. “Besides,” my ex offered nonchalantly, “she had the body of a grown woman at age eleven.”

Not rape came in other many other forms as well. No one escaped - all my friends had some kind of experience with it during their teen years.

Not rape was being pressured into losing your virginity in a swimming pool pump room to keep your older boyfriend happy.

Not rape was waking up in the middle of the night to find a trusted family friend in bed with you - and having nightmares about something that you can’t remember during the daylight hours.

Not rape was having your mother’s boyfriends ask you for sexual favors.

Not rape was feeling the same group of boys grope you between classes, day after day after day.

Not rape was being twelve years old, having a “boyfriend” who was twenty-four and trading sex for free rides, pocket money, Reeboks, and a place to stay when your mother was tripping.

My friends and I confided in each other, swapping stories, sharing out pain, while keeping it all hidden from the adults in our lives. After all, who could we tell? This wasn’t rape - it didn’t fit the definitions. This was Not rape. We should have known better. We were the ones who would take the blame. We would be punished, and no one wanted that. So, these actions went on, aided by a cloak of silence.

For me, Not rape came in the form of a guy from around the neighborhood. I remember that they called him Puffy because he looked like the rapper Sean “Puffy” Combs. He was friends with a guy I was friends with, T. I was home alone on hot summer day when I heard a knock on the patio door. I peeked through the blinds and recognized Puffy, so I opened the door a few inches. He asked if I had seen T around, and I told him no. The conversation continued, the contents so trivial that they are lost to memory.

So, I have no idea why he chose to pause and look me full in the face before saying:

“I can do whatever I want to you.”

My youthful braggadocio got the best of me, so I spat out, “Oh, what the fuck ever,” moving to pull the door closed.

Quick as a cobra, his hand darted past the screen, catching my wrist as I reached for the latch. A bit of tugging quickly turned sinister as I realized he wasn’t playing around.

He pinned me in the doorway, forcing me down to the floor barely inside my apartment. Holding my arm behind my back with one hand as I struggled against him, he calmly, deliberately allowed his free hand to explore my body. He squeezed my still budding breasts, then slipped his hands down my pants, taking his time while feeling up my behind. When he was finished, he let me up, saying again, “I can do whatever I want.” After he finished his cold display of power, he walked away.

After he left, I closed the balcony door, locked it, and put the security bar in the window, even though it was broad daylight.

I felt disgusting and dirty and used. I remember wanting to take a shower, but instead taking a seat on the couch trying to process what had happened and what I could do next.

Fighting him was out, as he had already proved he was stronger than I was. I considered telling some of my guy friends, but I quickly realized I had nothing to tell them. After all, I wasn’t raped, and it would really come to my word against his. As I was the neighborhood newcomer, I was at a disadvantage on that front. Telling my mom was out as well - I’d only get into trouble for opening the door for boys while she was at work.

I gritted my teeth in frustration. There was nothing I could do to him that wouldn’t come back on me worse. So I got up, took my shower, and stayed silent.

A few weeks later, I ran into T and some other guys from the neighborhood while I was walking to the store with one of my friends. T informed us that they were going to hang out in one of the empty apartments in the neighborhood. This was a popular activity in my old neighborhood - some guys would normally find a way to gain entry into one of the vacant apartments or townhouses and then use the place as a clubhouse for a few days.

My friend was game, but I felt myself hesitate. The memory of my Not rape was still fresh in my mind and T was still friends with Puffy. There was also the possibility that Puffy would be there in the apartment, and that was a confrontation I did not want. I refused, and my friend was angry at me for passing up the chance to hang out with the cutest boys in the neighborhood. Since I had never told this particular friend what happened, I shrugged off her anger and made an excuse to head home.

A few days after that meeting, I was on the school bus headed to morning classes. The local news report was on and the announcement that came across the airwaves stunned the normally rowdy bus into silence. The voice on the radio informed us of a brutal rape that occurred in our neighborhood. Due to the savage nature of the crime, all six of the teenage defendants would be tried as adults. The names were read and a collective gasp rose from the bus - T’s name was on that list! Jay, a guy who knew about the friendly flirtation I had going with T, leaned over and joked “Uh-huh - T’s gonna get you!”

I remained silent as my mind was racing. The strongest, most persistent thought rose to the top of my mind - oh my God, that could have been me.

At the time, I didn’t know how right I was.

A few years later, I was a high school junior on top of the world. For the most part, memories of my Not rape had been buried in the back of my mind somewhere. My third year in high school was consumed by two major responsibilities: student government and mock trial.

When I was sixteen, I knew I was destined to be a lawyer and I took advantage of every opportunity that would push me toward that goal. I signed up for mock trial and as part of our responsibilities our trial team was supposed to watch a criminal proceeding in action.

On the day we arrived at the local courthouse, there were three trials on the docket: a traffic case, a murder case, and a rape case. Nixing the traffic case, we trouped into the first courtroom which held the murder trial, only to find that the trial was on hold, pending pre-trial motions. We turned back and went into the courtroom where the rape trial was being held.

Never did it cross my mind that I would walk through the doors to see to picture of my Not rapist, captured in a Polaroid and displayed on a whiteboard with the other five rapists being tried. The prosecution was speaking, so we were quickly caught up on the specifics of the case.

While the rape had occurred in 1997 and most of the defendants - including T - had been convicted in 1998, this was the trial to determine the fate of the last of the six, a man who claimed he had left the scene before any crime had occurred.

Through word of mouth, I had learned that T had been sentenced and he would not be eligible for parole until he was forty-six years old. (I have since learned that T should be released by the end of this year. His victim should be about 21 years of age.) I had also learned that the crime was a gang rape, but knew no other details.

The prosecutor pulled out a picture of the girl the six boys had brutalized. In the first photo she was bright-eyed and neat looking, her dark hair pulled into a high ponytail which complimented her fair skin. She was dressed in athletic casual wear, as if she was on her way to a track meet.

The prosecutor then pulled out a second picture, taken post assault. Her face was a mass of purple and red bruises. One of her eyes was blood red - the attorney informed us that she had received extensive damage to the blood vessels in her eyes. The other eye was swollen shut. Her lips were also bloodied and bruised. He placed the two photographs side by side. From photo to photo, the girl had been rendered unrecognizable.

Quietly laying out the facts, the prosecutor deftly painted a tale of horror. The girl had met T and another boy (my Not rapist? I still didn’t know his government name) on a bus. The boys had convinced her to come with them and they led her to a vacant apartment. Unknown to the girl, there were four other men also hanging out that day. She was forced to give oral sex to some of the men, and then she was beaten, raped, and sodomized. She was found in the apartment unconscious, surrounded by used condoms, semen, and fecal matter.

My blood ran cold as I tried to process what I was hearing.

T was capable of this? The prosecutor was still speaking, and he made mention that there appeared to be one main ringleader with the other five guys going along for the ride. My teammates sat in rapt attention while I tried to figure out how soon we could leave. On one hand, I realized that my Not rapist and T were behind bars already, instead of roaming the streets to do this to someone else.

And yet, a part of me wondered if I should have spoken up. If I had told someone, anyone, could I have prevented this from happening? I regarded the girl’s picture once again. It is pretty rare to see the expression “beaten to a bloody pulp” illustrated in real life. I should have said something, I thought to myself, I should have tried.

My internal monologue was interrupted by the defense attorney taking the floor. He pointed out his client from the photos lining the wall, and calmly explained how his client was present in the apartment, but left before the attack began. He built his case, explaining that his client was generally a good kid, but outnumbered, and that his client opted to leave the area instead of participate in any wrongdoing. He then turned to the jury and said:

You will also hear that —– wasn’t such a good girl after all. You will hear that she skipped school. You will hear that she smoked marijuana. You will hear that she willingly skipped school to go smoke marijuana with two boys she had just met.

My mouth fell open out of shock. There wasn’t even a question of consent in this case - the damage to the girl’s face attested to that. And yet, here was this defense attorney trying to assassinate the victim’s character. For what? Why was what she was doing that day even relevant in the context of what she experienced?

The defense attorney finished his opening statement and the judge started dispensing instructions to the jury. I forced myself to swallow the bile in my throat. As the judge dismissed the court for a break, I scooted out of the room and took a deep breath of air. My team went for lunch, and I persuaded them not to go back to watch the next part of the trial.

That day in court was the day I fully understood the concept of being raped twice - first during the act and then later during the court proceedings. That was also the day I realized that telling someone about my Not rape would have netted a similar, if not more dismissive response. I had no evidence of the act, no used condom wrapper, no rape kit, no forced penetration.

If the defense attorney was attempting to sow the seeds of doubt in the face of indisputable evidence, what would have happened if I had chosen to speak up?

This is how the Not Rape epidemic spreads - through fear and silence, which become complicit in perpetuating the behaviors described here. Women of all backgrounds are affected by these kinds of acts, regardless of race, ethnicity, or social class. So many of us carry the scars of the past with us into our daily lives. Most of us have pushed these stories to the back of our minds, trying to have some semblance of a normal life that includes romantic and sexual relationships. However, waiting just behind the tongue is story after story of the horrors other women experience and hide deep within the self behind a protective wall of silence.

As I continue to discuss these issues, I continue to be surprised when revealing my story reveals an outpouring of emotion or confession from other women. When I first began discussing my Not Rape and all of the baggage that comes with it, I expected to be blamed or not to be believed.

I never expected that each woman I told would respond with her own story in kind.

I am twenty-four years old now, ten years removed from my Not rape. I still think of the girl who was assaulted and hope that she was still able to have something of a normal life. As I matured, I came to understand more about the situation. As the years passed, my shame turned to anger, and I began learning the tools I could have used to fight back.

At age fourteen, I lacked the words to speak my experience into reality. Without those words, I was rendered silent and impotent, burdened with the knowledge of what did not happen, but unable to free myself by talking about what did happen.

I cannot change the experiences of the past.

But, I can teach these words, so that they may one day be used by a young girl to save herself.

Not rape comes in many forms - it is often known by other names. What happened to me is called a sexual assault. It is not the same as rape, but it is damaging and painful. My friends experienced statutory rape, molest, and coercion.

What happened in the courtroom is a byproduct of rape culture - when what happens to women in marginalized, when beyond a shadow of a doubt still isn’t enough, when your past, manner of dress, grade point average or intoxication level are used to excuse the despicable acts of sexual violence inflicted upon you by another.

Internalized shame is what I experienced, that heavy feeling that it was my fault for allowing the sexual assault to happen. There was a fear that if I spoke up, people would look at me differently, or worse, wouldn’t believe me at all.

Without these words, those experiences feed off each other, perpetuating a culture of silence and allowing these attacks to continue.

With the proper tools, we equip our girls to speak of their truth and to end the silence that is complicit in rape culture.

Teenaged girls need to know that dating an older man will not make them cooler, and that older man cannot rescue them from their parents. Teenaged boys should be able to help as well, trying to keep their friends away from predators. (My male friends did this for me a few times if they were around, coming to my aid of some guy started acting up. For some reason, the simple presence of another man is enough to make these kind of men leave.) Adult men should be cautioned about the effects of the actions and how most of these girls are not of the age of consent. And parents should be made aware that their children are being targeted by predatory men and that they should stay vigilant.

Adults, particularly older women, should take an active interest in the young girls they know.
My boyfriend has two younger sisters. One of them recently entered her teenage years. Her body started to develop and she has attracted more male attention. I notice small changes in her - how she looks at the floor a lot more than she used to, or how she seems uncomfortable going anywhere without a group of girlfriends. She still looks like an average teenager but she is often hesitant and uncomfortable, unless she is around her peers. However, I knew her before she developed so quickly. And I notice the change that a year (as well as taking the metro to and from school) starts. I’m fairly certain she’s trying to navigate the minefield of male attention she receives.

After all, I’ve walked that same field as well.

Finally, we need to cast a critical eye on how rape culture is perpetuated on an institutional level. From how hospitals distribute rape kits to keeping tags on questionable verdicts, we must take the lead in telling the criminal justice system that rape apologists and enablers will not be tolerated.

But above all, we must give girls the tools they need to defend themselves against sexual predators.

The small things we can do - paying attention, giving the words they need, instilling the confidence in which to handle these situations and providing a non judgmental ear when a student or teen approaches us with a problem - may be the best, an perhaps only, weapons they have to continue the fight against this epidemic.

Mad World

Ok so I've been hearing this song everywhere lately- on my Pandora, at Pilates, the radio etc. I like it A LOT! So what version is your favorite???

the original...

Tears for Fears - Mad World


the newer 'moody' version (from donnie darko)...

Gary Jules - Mad World


the British girl (from Fame Academy)...

Alex Parks - Mad World


Try to pay attention to the song not just the awesome videos. That Kiwi is so blasted cute.

Our Christmas Vacation

Any Questions???