When is it okay to 'be'?

Sometimes life feels like you’re in the midst of a back-to-back-to-back 400 m sprint. For a former sprinter, this is completely exhausting. I only can go for short distances before I need a breather, some fresh air. A drink of water to rehydrate.

How come life doesn’t afford you these times to take a break and to catch up with your oxygen intake? It seems as though each time you hit a milestone or accomplish something, there is some force out there asking you what our next step is, when you plan to achieve it by and how you will go about that plan.

The minute you walk in the door at freshman orientation for high school, you are already seeing brochures of how to plan for college: What grades you need to make, how much your parents should be saving, guides of how to succeed on your SAT’s. Quick sign up for the P-SAT...you only have 4 years to prepare! Forget after football game dances and assemblies, you should be studying for your SAT.

They quickly usher you out of this 4 year institution into the college you have been steadily preparing for these last 4 years. You check into your dorm, go to see your advisor to make your course plan. They then ask you the million dollar question: “What do you want to do with your life?”

Life? I just turned 18 and I thought this is life. Going to school, moving away, new experiences, love, loss, education, friendships. I have no idea what I am going to eat for dinner tomorrow night, let alone know what career I would choose to wake up and go to every single day until the gold watch of retirement glimmers.

So you choose something that sounds like what you’re interested in learning more about and you pray that in 4 years you won’t hate it and can make a career or at least get hired somewhere. You know, if the economy doesn't suck.

You have a few beers, you go to some football games, you casually date, and before you know it you’re sitting in a sea of Josten’s caps n gowns yet again listening to a speech about your future and tomorrow. What about the now? The right now in that moment?

You’re now in your mid twenties, working at a job that is satisfying for the moment thinking about this dreary future "thing" that everyone is constantly reminding you about. Save your money, invest, buy! Make a plan. For what? I could wake up dead tomorrow.

You drift toward your thirties, still single with the constant reminder that you are: “Are you seeing anyone?” No, should I be? I’m enjoying being single, strengthening friendships, learning more about who I am, and enjoying the freedom of the moment. But for some reason, the world tells you that you aren’t and that you must hurry to find someone. As if the world is running out of people. I'm quite sure the opposite is occurring.

You finally meet this person that you believe to be amazing. He makes you laugh, he is sincere when he tells you that you’re beautiful, and you feel that this is real companionship. This isn't like the others. Love.

“When are you going to get engaged?” I don’t know…I’m not sure what marriage is all about. Is there a test drive route I can take?

You get engaged.

“When is the wedding?”

You wed.

“When is the baby coming?”

Pretty soon the future is so crammed down your esophagus that you are unable to focus on the present, to enjoy the beautiful moments of extraordinary days that only seem ordinary because you are too busy to pay attention. Too busy writing in your planner, stressing about this unknown future.

There might not be a tomorrow for you or me. How many of them do you want to look back at and find unrecognizable because you were too busy to look around and enjoy this amazing world we have at our fingertips?

You can see the finish line. With every step you take though, it seems to be pulled further and further away from you, a cruel tease, and you have to keep running or you might never catch it.

Stop. Let them pass you if this really is in fact a race to them. Literally, stop and smell the roses or daisies or hydrangeas, whatever it is you enjoy the scent of. Lay your back flat on the surface of the Earth and make shapes out of the clouds until they fade into a magnificent dark sky only lit by the stars that dance in it and the moons light cast upon it. Then lay there longer.

Rehydrate.

Be.

The Little Things.

Ever have something that occurs on a daily basis that you expect as a part of your routine? An Alarm clock going off, birds chirping outside your window(if you live somewhere where the solar rays grace) or a pet licking your face with icky breath to say good morning?

On my way to work , I usually see this little black boy about 8 or 9 wearing these ginormous headphones, rocking out to the beat, while walking his dog down to the park with a huge smile on his face. It completely makes my day.

I always wonder what it is he is listening to in his personal surround sound and my maternal instinct (yes, I have the instinct) hopes that the volume isn’t too loud so he doesn’t damage his young ears. I picture him listening to Jay Z some days and others I think he could be listening to the Jackson 5. I don’t know, but this little guessing game keeps me entertained. Whatever that joy is that is keeping that smile on his face, I want some of it.

I had gone a couple weeks without seeing him (leaving late and missing his walking time) and today there he was on the corner. Just him, his dog and those headphones. As he stood on the corner waiting to cross the street, I just smiled in his general direction as he anticipated running across that intersection the second the light allowed. Then he waved. No, not to me, but to a cop passing by and my heart seriously melted in this tiny gesture of recognition.

Maybe because of all the strife the minority community is having with police officers in Portland which prompted Jesse Jackson to visit (ugh, another blog in itself) and to see this young black boy smile and happily wave to a white cop just did something to me.

It’s these simple things that really can make our day, but so often they go overlooked. With all the stress and craziness that can enter our lives daily, it’s easy to find a way to not pay attention to the little pleasantries that life offers. For me, it’s a boy, his dog, and oh yes, his beats.

Dancin' in the Sun: Sundance Twenty-Ten

I love art. Primarily in the form of books, movies and television. I’m not too keen on the abstract painting type of art. I know, I know a picture speaks a thousand words, right? But guess what really does speak words? Books. Movies. Television.

Since the beginning of time, correction, beginning of my time, I dreamt of being a writer. I wanted to author books and wrote many a short stories in my elementary school days. I attended workshops through external programs and let my imagination run to its limits. As I grew older, I still had this fire inside me to write but developed that thing that often holds us back from chasing our dreams; fear. That icky voice in our conscience that tells us that you could possibly fail and people won’t appreciate what you consider to be a talent. So instead, I opted for the “attainable” dreams over the road of the starving artist. I hid behind other people’s work and became an avid reader, a lover of films, and an admirer of smart, witty talent where people thought outside of the box. My favorite television shows right now do not contain laugh tracks to let the audience know when something is funny; I’ve come to loathe that as of late. Instead, the writers and actors of these shows challenge their audience to really listen, think for a minute, and then understand their humor. I like that independence and intelligence that the viewer is finally given.

While on this note, I should mention my disgust for reality television. I may be guilty of indulging from time to time, but I am not a fan of the fact that these “reality stars” make money based on their bad decisions and all around stupid nature. We are now monetarily rewarding a lack of education an idiocracy? Really America? How does that old saying go? Oh yeah, you’re only as strong as your weakest link. That’s the one.

So Sundance. What is so special about seeing a bunch of movies? Well as you’ve just heard my rant on reality television, independent movies are the exact opposite. Most of these films are made literally on a dream, a few bucks, and raw human talent; Talent that introduces us into these stories of the human condition in its purest forms. Stories that we’ve never seen first-hand in our own neighborhoods, but we know exists somewhere. Stories that may have dark undertones but are somehow made humorous because laughter has a way of resonating with us and keeping these important narratives in mind. Stories that take chances, chances that might fail at the box office, but the writer knows are necessary to take despite harsh reviews. Pure stories of this chaotic, confusing, messy, and beautiful disaster of a world.

Every story touched my soul in some way. Five films that I hope you all will get to see someday on the big screen: Hesher, Welcome to the Rileys, 8: The Mormon Proposition, Howl, and Winter’s Bone.

I guess it also didn’t hurt that I saw Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Adrian Grenier there as well :). Those were just two beautiful, hot, bonuses.

Sundance Twenty-Eleven. Who’s in?

Someone out there.

I know that I will go to bed tonight in what I consider to be the most comfortable bed known to woman and others will not. Someone out there lies beneath mounds of rubble, praying that they will be found, hoping that their heart won’t stop beating, hoping that this won’t be the last breath that they take. I know that I will read my book and maybe catch an episode of one of my beloved shows, while someone out there frantically searches for their children, their best friend, their mother, anyone. I know that God willing, I will arise in the morning to my beautiful condo while someone out there will fall to their knees as they see their home that they built a life in, crumbled into nothing more than a heap of garbage, unrecognizable to even its owner.

We may not have everything we want, but we have what we need. The essentials. To anyone that is reading this, I know you have access to a computer to read these words. In the shadow of this dark tragedy, I hope we each take more than a moment of silence, more than a few bucks out of our pockets, but take a long observation of what surrounds us, what really matters and what at the end of the day we fear being without. Because in a moment, in one unfortunate rumble in the Earth, it could be taken from you.

I went 'Rogue' and I'm glad to be back.

Dear SP-

Well, I know one thing for sure after reading ‘Going Rogue.’ And that’s that the subtitle should read “An Alaskan Life” instead of ‘An American Life.’ I read this book to hear you out if you will, and as much as the book was written with a twinge of 8^th grade jabs at various individuals, I definitely heard you loud and clear. If anyone ever pissed you off, well they can expect to see their name in print. I’m glad I went ‘rogue’ with you SP, because I needed more information and I got it and intend on sharing it with others. Please, hear me out. I promise not to go all ‘rogue’ on you like you did on us.

On your prideful nature: I’m all about hometown pride. Well, Gresham was just reported to be the most dangerous city in Oregon and fared higher in the rankings than both LA and NY I believe, but be that as it may, I grew up there. Oregon itself is fantastic. We’ve got the mountains, the beach, the lovely rain (I’m being sincere), and the gift of seasons. However, I live to travel…internationally, nationally, it is something vital to my existence. It is necessary that I communicate, eat, and walk in different backyards to create a larger understanding than what I might of just assumed is right sitting on my own couch without ever taking a journey. SP you seem to think that Alaska is MORE than enough.

You are prideful in your state to a fault. You constantly refer to the other 49 states in this union that you are “allegedly” so proud of as ‘Outsiders’ throughout the entirety of this book. I don’t know if I would ever want someone sitting in The Oval Office making decisions for a bunch of ‘Outsiders’ because how can you possibly understand us if you yourself feel this way? You were even surprised when you spotted an Alaskan reporter on the campaign trail when you wrote, “He’d made it Outside to track us down” (Palin, 255)! Yes, ever since the creation of planes, automobiles and ships, people have realized their potential to cross state and even country lines. For real.

As if being ‘Outsiders’ isn’t bad enough, you give Alaskans this ‘holier than thou’ stance while making assumptions about the residents of the other 49 states (assumptions as you apparently hadn’t gotten out much before Campaign ‘08). This first excerpt is clearly offensive to any Oregonian as we are a leader of being a “green” state.” “For many in Alaska, being “green” isn’t about wearing Birkenstocks and driving a hybrid; it’s about survival” (Palin, 28). Oh, so that’s what we all think being green is. Thanks for clearing that up.

This next excerpt may be my favorite of the entire book at your sheer incompetence about the rest of America, which you seem to love so much, but know little about. “…[W]ildfires in the Lower 48 are often treated as natural disasters. Up here, we often let them burn, knowing that from fire-blackened lands new growth will spring” (Palin, 208). Really SP? Did you just say that? While you may live in a HUGE state and constantly remind us of that (see page 133 as an example) area wise, no one lives there (Alaska is 47/50 in population)! The reason we can’t just allow wildfires to burn relentlessly on the “Outside” is because people LIVE here and we must protect their homes, possessions, and oh yeah, their lives. So yes, it IS a disaster instead of this “precocious occasion of rebirth.”

On party lines: SP, you emphasize how much you dislike political labeling, that you’d like to reach across the aisle, but describe yourself as a conservative until we find a better title. However, you consistently attach negative adjectives to liberals. Hint, when you describe yourself as “mavericky” and always “mixin things up” maybe your own book is an appropriate venue in which to can these political terms that you abhor. And tacking on ugly names onto a certain group of people that you want to work together on issues with may or may not be the best idea.

You also choose to separate instead of integrate when you talk about that damned liberal media. On one occasion you say: “the time has come to acknowledge that it is a counterfeit objectivity the liberal media try to sell consumers” (Palin, 348). Interesting, because FIVE pages prior, you mentions how FOX had started “character assassinations” on you right after the campaign. Correct me if I’m wrong, but we can agree that FOX is a more conservative than liberal news outlet, right? Then seriously…FIVE pages later you are going to attack only the liberal media, SP?? Who edited your book? Let me know so I can veto them from my list of editors.

After many statements like above where you slander liberals, you present this at the end of your book: “I also don’t like the narrow stereotypes of either the ‘conservative’ or the ‘liberal’ label, but until we change the lingo, call me a Commonsense Conservative” (Palin, 384). Reading the 383 pages prior to this sentence, a reader, a skeptical reader no less, would never have thought you had such complacent views on political party affiliation, SP. I don’t think I need to say it, but that sentence is in direct contradiction of what you’ve been saying the rest of the book! That right there is the definition of going rogue. And no, not in the folksy way you mean it, but in the true definition of “rogue” – a dishonest person.

On taking responsibility: Everyone saw the botched interview where you fell flat on your face, SP. You begin to take blame for your own ‘annoyances’ with Katie Couric and how she got the best of you and you reacted negatively. I was happy for you to take that responsibility and own up; not placing blame on anyone else. But just as with most of the book up until this point, you slide in a catty phrase as if to get the upper hand and hit a low blow into Couric’s ovaries, where it really hurts. Her ratings. “That bracket of time also included my seemingly endless serial chat with the lowest-rated news anchor in network television, Katie Couric” (Palin, 270). Oh well, SP, we know how you deal with low ratings. You resign.

On SNL: “Tina’s impression became so omnipresent-and so unchallenged-that some people blurred SNL skit dialogue with what I had actually said…this is make or break stuff” (Palin, 309). SP, as your book has been, SNL is purely for entertainment value and in the last 35 years that they’ve been on the air there have been approximately 9 other presidential elections. While Tina Fey’s impression was impeccable and hilarious, you are not the first nor will you be the last to be imitated on what is a sketch comedy show, not a news network. They even let you come on and do a few sketches to get your agenda out. Give me a break and the American people more credit for actually watching the debates and SNL to decide for themselves what is “true because it’s funny” which frankly, it was. And I watched all of it (much like all the papers you said you read during your ‘annoyed’ interview with that lowest rated news anchor).

SP, I will make sure to pass this book around in an effort to recycle (I don’t wear Birkenstocks but I do in fact reduce and reuse) this amongst my friends so they won’t have to pay the $9 plus shipping and thus, no more copies will have to be printed. Then I will give it to Powell’s (that’s the largest bookstore in our great nation). I think it’s important to get as many eyes on this as possible before that fateful day we hear you are running for office in 2012. That way, you can’t accuse me of not voting for you because of those crazy liberal journalists, but because of your own incompetence that you have put into a book for me to read. Thank you for that early Christmas present.

-Teela

PS…Just because I enjoyed reading it so much the first time, I had to put it in print again. “If God had not intended for us to eat animals, how come He made them out of meat” (Palin, 133)? Which brings me to wonder SP, why then are we made out of meat?

The Critic.

Over Thanksgiving dinner, my extended family who doesn't have the 'joy' of spending much time with me, told me something that may have changed my life a little. After a particular comment I made on some random topic, my Uncle managed to suck in some oxygen through his airwaves and force the Turkey he'd been chewing, excuse me, choking on down, and said: "Teela, you should be a critic." Little did he know just a few days before I had written a full blown review on 'New Moon.' Maybe more of the ambiance and actual experience of the movie-going experience on opening night than the actual plot line and acting, but nonetheless a review. Guess we're on the same page.

11.19.09. Clackamas Town Center. 12:10AM showing of "New Moon."

There's the emo kids who feel like vampires are the only ones who truly understand them. The sexually confused boys who aren't sure if they should be Team Bella...or Edward. There's the clique-ish girls who are hopeful that their Edward Cullen exists. Well guess what, he's dead and has been for 100+ years. Facial pierced teens discuss the most recent base they got to with their BF's or GF's, college and having their very first apartment (happy they're considering, not promising success), and express their disdain for curfew. And I'm quoting now, "I don't care, I'm already going to be tired as f*ck in the morning, I might as well stay out as late as possible." Oh to think a lack of sleep was cool again...

This scene could be none other than the midnight movie goers of Twilight: New Moon.

I'm still not quite sure why I am here and am baffled that I have anything in common with 99.5% of the people here. The last time I was confronted with a crowd of this monstrosity was to witness our 44th President of the United States get sworn in. And the Macy's Thanksgiving parade. Way worth it.

A girl is panting behind us like a tired Scottish Terrier (is this even a dog?) after a jog .2 miles too long because this is obviously the only way to deal with the anticipation. Another group discusses the casts latest appearances and awards they've won. I use the term "awards" lightly as most of these have been administered by MTV and let's face it, those don't really count...well, unless you're Kanye. These people know EVERYTHING. Stalkers. I mean okay, I admit I did DVR some Robert Pattinson appearances, but that's okay because it's not a tween obsession because he's actually my age. And I have a chance. You know since they'll be filming here again and all we're bound to cross paths, right? RIGHT?!?

I look over at the BFF and we nonverbally share our sheer state of confusion as to why we are here and roll our eyes at what is to come. Oh guilty pleasures. They'll drag your butt out of bed when you should be sleeping (note to teen girl from earlier, lack of sleep is so not cool) and into a stinky, packed, movie theater at 12:10AM to watch a teen vampire fight with a teen wolf over a human girl who really wants to be a vampire. As if hormones weren't bad enough.

Tyra, how I loathe thee..let me count the ways...

A friend of mine, who's name won't be mentioned to protect her identity, suggested I write a blog about the one person who irritates me the most: Ms. Tyra Banks. I didn't always not like Tyra, but it seems like in the past 5-7 years, she has clawed her way up the Hollywood sign to make sure she stayed famous after her model-esque body said buh-bye. What has she done for me to dislike her so, you ask? I'm glad you asked...let me begin.

5. She started 'America's Next Top Model.' Now, I am guilty of watching this show for maybe 6 of the 13ish seasons. I think the people are interesting, the shoots are cool, and of course, who doesn't like watching drama that isn't their own. BUT Tyra just created this show to tell other people how to model more like her. If that isn't narcism, I don't know what is. And no Tyra, I can't see the difference. I must not be cut out to be a model.

4. She thinks she's Oprah. Well you might say, Teela you're not mad at Ellen for taking a 4pm competing spot with Oprah, so why the anger towards Tyra's early afternoon show? Well, Ellen knows who she is and sticks to what she's good at-comedy. Tyra is a model...not a therapist and has no experience or accreditation that says otherwise. So stop giving sucky advice and further ruining these poor people's lives.

3. She won an 'Emmy' for a show that she claims to bring people on to "help" although most of the time, it always comes back to her 'rough' childhood. Man, going to Paris at 17 and then making millions of dollars does suck.

2. In her Emmy speech she thanked her mother for her perspiration. Yes, I would thank my mother for my sweat glands as well. Idiot.

1. And the number one reason I can't stand Tyra is because she once equaled herself to our Civil Rights leaders. I'm sorry Tyra, you were never incarcerated for anything you did and I think in categorizing yourself with these true leaders, you are discrediting their fight. You were blessed with an anorexically (word?) thin body that someone said, hey, let's put a swimsuit on that and use you in commercials and magazines and stuff. Good for you. But being the first Black model on the cover of 'Sports Illustrated' is hardly equal to MLK or Rosa Parks fighting for equal rights. Dumbass.