I Am Woman. Period.

I am tired, irritable and I just can't accomplish anything.  Why?  I have cramps.  That's right- it's my time of the month.  I am debilitated by pains in the tummy, a lasting headache, and general fatigue.  It's no fun.

Every month, I start to feel achy.  I snap at my husband and my mom more than usual.  My appetite is even less than usual (I'm not a good eater).  Without fail, I think to myself, 'I wonder if I'm getting sick.'  I get my period with perfect regularity every four weeks.  So, you would think I would be totally prepared for it each time.  For some reason, I'm not.  I'm in a constant, deep, subconscious denial.

I have a theory that this denial is a part of my coping mechanism-- one that every woman has. Even though it's really unfortunate to have to deal with everything involving this beneficent natural process, in a way, it's pretty empowering.  Can you imagine how men would handle being sick, without fail, every month, for five to seven days?  Not very well.  Yet we do it.  We live our lives and for the most part, perform just as well no matter what time of the month it is.  As I started this post, I said I wasn't being productive.  Yet the reality is I got a hell of a lot done today.  I conceived of a new hairstyle this morning (I'm really into bobby pins lately).  I attended and contributed greatly to three long, involved conference calls, wrote up formal documents, and reached some tricky agreements with co-workers. I made dinner (pesto rack of lamb and garlic cheddar mashed potatoes) for me and my husband.  I had a nice chat with my brother.  I checked in with my mother.  I played with my dog.  I was productive.  I felt less capable today, slower, more sluggish maybe, but I don't think anyone other than myself or my girlfriends would have noticed. I performed as well as I do on most days.  I internally whined about my period for about twelve seconds.  Then I got up, took some Advil, made my bed, and put the tea on.

So back to the coping mechanism.  If at the first sign of trouble, I started to freak out, and thought 'it's coming!  what a bummer', I would totally psyche myself out and maybe I would actually be less productive.  So I protect myself from that kind of thinking.  (Or I'm just really thick.  Whatever, I like my theory.)  I don't think a man could do the same thing.  If a man was dealing with my physical state, he'd likely stay in his pajamas and bitch.  And we face related roadblocks all the time.  Men assuming we're more emotional, dealing with us differently, being less comfortable around us in the workplace, having a hard time getting over our pretty faces or cute butts.  Yet women can accomplish anything they want to in the professional world.  And they do, every day.  Isn't that amazing?

Twilight

I have a confession. Perhaps a somewhat embarrassing confession: I have fallen deeply, completely, and head-over-heels into the Twilight craze.

About three months ago, I was driving home from work, battling traffic, and trudging along at about 10 mph on the parkway. During this time I usually try to call a family member, friend, etc to avoid the road-rage that I have a tendency to build. On this particular day my 19-year old sister was gushing about this great book that she was reading. She told me it was about vampires and werewolves and I immediately lost interest, phased out what she was saying, and started wondering to myself about what I was going to cook for dinner that night. I really have never been interested in science-fiction books so a world that included vampires and werewolves didn’t sound the least bit interesting to me. To be quite honest, when my sister started telling me about this book I remember actually rolling my eyes and thinking to myself, “isn’t Megan too old to be reading these kinds of books. I guess she is pretty flighty…”.

Two weekends ago, I had a very busy schedule. I flew from Pittsburgh, PA to Boise, ID (my trip, however, included a flight from Pittsburgh to Phoenix to Portland to Boise). I was in Boise for about 12 hours and then I flew to Tennessee. I ran a marathon the next morning and then drove from TN to Pittsburgh. A lot of traveling during the course of 36 hours. As I was walking through the airport on Thursday morning to catch my plane to Boise, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that there was a 50% off/used copy of Twilight at one of the airport bookstores. I had recently seen an interview of the main actor on Jay Leno and the flashback of my sister’s fascination with this book popped into my head. I bought the book thinking, if nothing else, it would help me pass the time on the plane.

As I started to read the first few chapters I suddenly started to feel like I was getting sucked into the world of these characters! When I was a kid, I had a problem with this. I loved to read. In fact, I was so weird. I liked to read so much that my parents would actually ground me from reading. I would get so engrossed in my books that I would do my chores, I wouldn’t eat dinner, and all I would do is read! There is a funny picture of me at about 10 years old. I am in my bedroom closet with the door shut, a blanket over my head and a reading light in my hand. I was told I wasn’t allowed to read until I had cleaned my room and so I tried to sneak away to finish a few chapters. As proof of the picture, I had apparently gotten caught.

So…back to Twilight…after reading the first few chapters, I felt like I was that same little kid again! Embarrassed that she had gotten caught reading when she should have been doing something else. I am a grown, married woman and this book is supposed to be written for a teenage generation. Yet, I couldn’t put the book down! The first book is over 600 pages and I finished it on the first flight. I have this strange ability to read very very fast. I immediately purchased the second copy during my layover and processed to read it on my second flight. It was the same effect; I couldn’t put the book down. I ended up reading all four books in the series over a course of 5 days.

The author, Stephenie Meyer, does a very good job of building up the characters. It is almost like you feel as if you know the characters. It is very strange. Or perhaps, I am just the strange one. Anyways….I convinced my husband to take me to the movie and, I swear, we were the only people in there over the age of 16. There was a lot of nervous, teenage giggling throughout the film in the rows behind me and afterwards the cinema was filled with comments like, “I can’t believe they forgot this part…” or “I knew exactly what Bella was going to say in that scene!”. Nearly everyone there had read the book first and then was going to see the movie.

Well, I feel better now that I have gotten this off my chest. I will try to no longer be embarrassed by the fact that I got caught up in the latest teenage-craze. If you get the chance to start these books, let me know what you think. I thoroughly enjoyed them and am very excited to see the next piece of work that this author produces.

Adam

Little Adam Walsh.  One of my earliest memories is about him.  It's fuzzy, but it's there.  I'm in a department store with my sister.  We are wearing wind-breaker jackets that make swishy noises when we move around.  We are little, can't see over the circular racks of clothing in the store and so my perspective is from a very low vantage-- we are obviously tiny, young.  Most vivid part of this memory is a sense of tension.  I hold onto my sister's sleeve protectively.  She is smaller than me and likes to joke around more and I'm afraid if one of us is going to get kidnapped, it's going to be her for sure.  She would guiltlessly talk to any stranger, probably.  I lead her around the circular racks looking for mom.  Mom isn't calling for us but she knows I am the keeper, she knows I won't stray far.  As we make our way through the isles, I remember looking up at the shopping adults, the ones not accompanied by children, suspiciously.  I wonder- why don't they have a child?  Do they want one?  Will they try and take us?  Just like they took Adam Walsh?  

I remember making faces at people shopping alone, in the hopes that if they thought I was bratty, I wouldn't be someone they'd want to take.

I was a crazy, neurotic child.  

But this is my oldest memory.  It's from the very early 80's in Miami, where I was born.  Adam went missing in 1981 in Florida; my sister was born in 1982.  I would have to say this memory is from at least 1983.  

The details of Adam's death were too terrible for my mother to ever explain to me.  I just knew that the bad man that took this little boy did horrible things to him and that is why I should stay close to her at all times.  In the classroom, teachers showed us that if someone approached us in a car we were to run in the exact opposite direction (a trick that would come in handy 14 years later when I was studying abroad and almost got kidnapped by a bunch of drunk Italian boys).  There were all sorts of stories on the news about kids getting snatched.  There was kidnapping mania, especially in the state of Florida.  

I remember watching "I Know My Name is Steven"  for the first time and being scared witless at the prospect of getting stolen by someone who likes to make slaves out of little kids!  I didn't even like to do chores in my own house!  What would life be like if I had to pour bowls of cereal for a fat lady who won't get out of bed all day and all night!?  (That's what I thought happened to little-kid slaves).  

The Adam Walsh case was a big deal for little me.  Not just because of my parents' interest in the mystery, the tragedy, or the fact that his father became a well-known crime-busting icon.  I grew up feeling like I knew Adam, as if he were in my pre-school class.  I remember developing a palpable sympathy for him at such an early age.  Fearful wondering what his life was like in his last moments without his parents, and hope that I would never have to experience it firsthand.  Survivor's guilt for an imaginary friend.  

Little Adam would have turned 34 this year.  That makes me so sad.   

 

Going Bowling

I just entered my bowl picks for the upcoming college football bowl season. I love the bowl season. Frankly, I just love college football. Some years, I think I actually look forward to New Years Day football almost more than I look forward to Christmas. (And given how many blog posts I’ve written about Christmas lately, you have to have at least some idea of how much that means I like football. I also bought a fancy TV this year to be certain to enjoy the games in the highest-possible picture quality, and, in the days before the birth of the Big Ten network, I was a faithful subscriber of ESPN College Football Game Plan. Oh, and I used to have a splitter on my cable so that I could watch two games at once. The only thing better than fall and the smell of football in the air was the chance to watch my team prove itself on the national stage in the year’s BCS game.

I miss those days.

This time around feels terribly different, however. First, I know far less about the match-ups this year than I have in years past, and I find that terribly depressing. I just reviewed the list of teams, and I haven’t really heard of half of them. I suppose there is an argument that NCAA Division I football has achieved some degree of parity, thereby relegating some of the “big name” teams to mediocrity. Or maybe it’s just that some of the big name teams stunk it up this year. Either way, there are some newcomers to the scene.

Second, I haven’t watched nearly as many games as I did last year, and certainly not as many as I did the year before. I used to stay up to watch College Gameday Final, and could tell you which team had a dark horse running back that would give their opponent fits come bowl time. Now I’m lucky if I can tell you which sideline Erin Andrews visited on any given Saturday afternoon. I’m out of the loop. I feel as though the season flew past without me, and looking at that bowl pool only cemented that belief in my mind. Trying to assign confidence values to my picks seems laughable given my complete lack of awareness this year.

Third, I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to watch half of these games. As I’ve bemoaned before, I’ve lost all ability to plan ahead in my life. Work is known to throw me for a loop as late as 3pm on a Friday afternoon. Not one to turn away from responsibility, I’m already preparing myself to have to stay late at the office despite wanting to watch my team. So I guess there is a piece of me that is trying not to get too excited for the games so as to not end up disappointed when that time comes.

But most importantly, I think I’m annoyed because I’m missing out on the great dialogue surrounding the fate of the BCS. I think the lack of high-profile match-ups is only going to exacerbate the discussion about the need for a college football playoff. When there’s talk of finding antitrust violations in the BCS, you have to know there’s something wrong. When Obama is taking about “fixing” the BCS, there’s gotta be a chance for change, right? My fiancé has crafted a plan to fix the system. My best friend has drafted a 10 page paper proposing a full-scale overhaul of the conference and rankings systems. I used to be able to criticize such proposals and offer educated, well-argued critiques and suggestions for improvement. I used to pride myself on being one of few girls who understood the intricacies of the diverse stakeholder interests at play. Now, I’m just overworked.

My Christmas Buddies: Unnamed child age 5, Evelyn, Irene, Sophie, and Rodriguez

I have loved reading all of the posts over the last week about what Christmas, and its traditions, means to everyone. I was not planning on writing about the holidays because this is always a difficult time of year for me. I don’t come from a large family with lots of traditions or even lots of members, and I cannot be with two of the people I love this year. But over the last several weeks I have come to realize that this year, Christmas is not about me anyway. And I hope to never go back to it being that way.

One Sunday over a month ago at church we watched a video montage of a member’s annual Christmas trip to Nicaragua. Now I probably couldn’t pinpoint Nicaragua on a map with any sort of accuracy (I might be able to since I think I would recognize Panama, Costa Rica, and Guatemala, but I also think there might some other countries in there like El Salvador, so then again maybe not….), and I don’t particularly care for those videos that they show with the children who have swollen bellies. I was traumatized by those as a child and now have to turn the channel when I go past them on Saturday mornings. So I already knew I was going to hate whatever they were going to show me. Well, turns out the video that the member was showing, and her trips, are really inspiring and not sad at all. All she was asking people to do was take a gallon-sized Ziploc, fill it with gifts and necessities for a child, and return it by Thanksgiving. There were clips of her handing them out, and the kids were smiling these gigantic, wide-eyed smiles only kids can do. They were showing off their Elmo toothbrushes and 99-cent coloring books to anyone who would throw a glance their way. Although this was only my second trip to the church (I’ve been church-shopping for 2 years now – I have commitment issues…a topic for another day), I scooped up a baggie figuring I could come back at least once more to drop it off.

Two weeks later I rounded up all of the goodies I needed for my unnamed child, age 5, at Wal-Mart and walked out having spent a whopping $27.17 on Veggie Tales toothbrushes, soap, playdoh, plastic dinosaurs, Hot Wheels, a comb, washcloths, crayons, and the beloved 99-cent coloring book. I then spent an hour at home trying to cram it all in the bag. Merry Christmas Unnamed Child Age 5 – don’t put all of that toothpaste on your toothbrush at once.

A week later this feeling of generosity inspired me to take two names off of the Senior Wish Tree at work (elderly county residents in nursing homes who have no family. Sad, sad, sad), at which point I went back to Wal-Mart for gift cards, a poinsettia, large print books, and a zip up robe. $43.90 well spent I told myself. Merry Christmas Evelyn, enjoy your steamy Harlequin that’s about 700 pages long because it’s Times New Roman 30 point font. Merry Christmas Irene, I hope you learn the true beauty that is finding everything you want (and tons more) at the Wal-Mart Supercenter.

But unbeknownst to me, I wasn’t done yet. We got an email alert from the Sheriff’s Department at work that there were still 102 (102!!) needy children who hadn’t been sponsored through the Mountain Santa program. Close your eyes: Can you imagine being a child who has nothing to open on Christmas morning? Now imagine 102 of them. So I emailed, and got back the name of a child: Sophie. Sophie is 11 and wants Disney and Hannah Montana stuff. You just wait Sophie, on Christmas morning you’re going to have three brand-new pink, black and red HM t-shirts, a HSM3 hoodie, a Disney glitter art set, a HM backpack, and a stocking full of candy, coke, nail polish, Lip Smackers, notepads, sparkle pens, and fuzzy pink socks. I am the first to admit I got a little carried away with Sophie. But when you’re 11, style matters. And at $119.50 (roughly), it was a steal. Merry Christmas, Sophie.

Last week I took lunch with a co-worker who had last-minute shopping to do. While she was in the Victoria’s buying a present for her partner, I took an opportunity to avoid an awkward situation and wait outside. Which just happened to be right next to the Angel Tree. As I was standing there looking around thinking about how it shouldn’t be awkward to go into a store with a lesbian who is picking out pretty panties for her partner, my glance kept going back to the tree. I noticed that the sign said gifts due Dec. 15th and it was already the 11th. The tree was positively covered with names of children needing something for the holidays. There had to be more than 102 (which apparently stood as my own internal barometer of sucker-ness), so I took one. Rodriguez age 10, size 11 shirts and pants, likes cars and trucks. Rodriguez baby, I got ya. I spent an hour at Toys-r-Us Thursday night then a really long lunch on Friday buying a remote-controlled FJ Cruiser the size of my dog, a soccer ball, a hoodie, two t-shirts, jeans, and a polo. Total: $81.82. Merry Christmas, Rodriguez.

So three kids, two seniors later, I am renewed with the spirit of Christmas. I hope that each one of them wakes up Christmas morning thinking that there is someone out there (whether it’s a parent or a stranger) who wanted to make sure that they felt just one day of hope and storybook love.

So I have decided that this year and going forward, the holidays aren’t about making sure my boyfriend has a new PS3, or making sure my mom gets that KitchenAid mixer, and in sum I didn’t spend even as much on all 5 of them as either of those items costs. It’s about understanding what Christmas really means. For me, I can’t think of anything better than spending 99-cents on a coloring book to see a child who has nothing fill with joy.