Watch Me.

Telling me I can’t do something is about the same as handing over an artfully crafted, personalized, perhaps even tastefully embossed, invitation with copy along the lines of:

Dear Taylor-

Yes. Please. BY ALL MEANS, do this thing. You are so pretty and awesome and you absolutely should do it. DO IT.

Sincerely- Your Biggest Cheerleader

And where normal people hear the more constructive feedback that usually accompanies the can’t do/shouldn’t do/already tried/etc., things like: “I’ve already tried, so this probably isn’t worth your time/energy,” or “This isn’t necessarily the best option, heed from my experience,” I hear a challenge that goes something like this:

Hey. Hey you. If you don’t do this thing, you’re going to miss out on the feeling of superiority you will have when you accomplish it. BECAUSE IT’S A CHALLENGE AND YOU MUST ACCOMPLISH IT. YOU MUST YOU MUST YOU MUST. -delivered in either a drill sergeant voice, or the tone of an annoying 7-year-old on the playground, taunting a classmate to jump from the HIGH monkey bar.

This probably isn’t normal…

Actual Conversation I Just Had.

Man on the Circle: You look nice today.

Me: Thank you.

Man on the Circle: Are you wearing that because you have some sort of leopard fetish?

Me: Ummmm…. No.

Man on the Circle: Maybe you should think about it…

WWJBS

In times of turmoil, I look to a leader I’ve come to love and respect for wisdom and perspective. I ask myself- What Would Josiah Bartlet Say? What would he do?

I DON’T CARE IF HE’S A FICTIONAL CHARACTER PRES. BARTLET IS MY SPIRIT GOD.

Ok, no, but really- After the events surrounding the Boston marathon explosions, I can’t help but reflect on this clip- especially because I have no words that will express the sadness any better.

Your Monday Morning Affirmation

How do you see yourself? How is that different from how others see you?

Stabby, Defined.

Stabby
/Stab-by/ 

(of a feeling. slang.) The feeling of irritation, cause by stupid or ridiculous behavior, such as misuse of the word “literal,” excessive use of the word “like,” OR political posturing that makes a mockery of our democracy and any sense of respect our country posses. In cases where “stabby” would be applicable, the feeling of irritation is so extreme stabbing oneself or someone else, would be preferable over the continued occurance one is experiencing.

As means of demonstrating the ultimate in things that make me stabby, see below.

Dear Indiana GOP Super Majority- You have got to be kidding me… I’d like my state government to be, efficient, effective and spending time on things other than Kelly Clarkson remakes, brought to you by old, out of tune, white people. The fact that you have spent time making this monstrosity, is the antithesis of what’s wrong with your party, your priorities and your time in office. Let’s raise a glass to voting as many of you out as quickly as humanly possible, based solely on this video, and not even the other ludicrous things you’ve done in this session alone. Next time, before you cut funding for education, for transportation, for hungry impoverished children, let’s watch this video together and discuss what real wasted resources looks like.

p.s. Bosma? Recovering from knee surgery, not a battle with cancer for Christ’s sakes. 

I’m Just Tired of Talking About It.

Of Note: This was written yesterday in a fit of writing inspiration (a.k.a. word vomit). I stand by it, and still find this conversation really super useless. With that said, Jezebel posted this piece today, a rebuttal to, not just Obama’s comment, but an article on a Washington Times Communities page where Jack Engelhard plays poor pitiful with how tough it is to be a man and deal with us silly women. The Jezebel article provides “guidelines” for men interacting with women, specifically pointing out how instances of flattery are just demeaning. Alright. They win.

So read away. But once you do, read the Jezebel piece. Because Lindy West‘s views? Also, completely right. And better written than mine.

————————–

What’s the line between politically correct and ridiculous? Where do we draw the line between admiring women and demeaning them?

There is a boy in my life, who sometimes introduces me to people as a neo-feminist.

And by sometimes, I mean Sunday.

To his friends.

That I had never met before.

Sigh.

And these poor people, don’t know me well enough to know that this characterization is a gross overstatement. Google me- there are entirely too many incriminating pictures of a past life as an aspiring princess for me to be too militant on this front.

But I won’t deny that I can take up the girl power banner with the best of them.

With that said- Why are we spending round table conversations debating the looks of a woman, the President of the United States complimented and weighing the pros and cons of doing so?

See- last week, President Obama got in trouble for commenting on how attractive California attorney general Kamala Harris is.

“You have to be careful to, first of all, say she is brilliant and she is dedicated and she is tough, and she is exactly what you’d want in anybody who is administering the law, and making sure that everybody is getting a fair shake,” said Obama. “She also happens to be by far the best-looking attorney general in the country — Kamala Harris is here. (Applause.) It’s true. Come on. (Laughter.) And she is a great friend and has just been a great supporter for many, many years.”

He didn’t say- “Wow, what a nice piece of ass.” He didn’t say “Being named Attorney General was probably because she’s easy on the eyes.” He talked about her qualifications and her expertise. Then he complemented her. In a social setting, with a woman who has been a long time friend, and supporter, of both he and Michelle’s.

And suddenly it turned into HOW DARE HE.

It’s not sexist or offensive… It’s just true. She’s pretty. Hell, she’s hot. And in a position that is largely held by middle aged men, it’s not unfair to say- She’s smart, she’s accomplished, and wow, she also happens to be attractive.

Then this week I saw this gem- fully clothed female super heros.

Look, I know we, as a gender, are more than our looks. I, nor any woman, should be judged solely on appearance. I’m not an object. I will not be minimized to someone’s eye candy. (Or eye candy at all. I am actually fairly certain no one has ever described me as eye candy. I usually get cute. Or little. I digress.)

I also acknowledge that we, as a gender, are usually held to a higher standard when it comes to our appearance. Discussions of Hillary Clinton’s hair and wardrobe makes news, while we readily ignore her male counterparts. And I don’t deny that this emphasis on looks, permeates deeper into our culture- Girls, little girls, aspire for “pretty,” they are more likely to think they are fat, or have self image issues. We often get caught in this web of thinking our looks determine our worth.

But for goodness sakes- denying the fact that women are gorgeous creatures and pretending our appearance isn’t to be noticed, also feels a little… Silly. To me, being a modern woman is about embracing all of our “parts,” and when we won’t stop apologizing for being sexy, for being pretty, for being exactly who we want to be, we’re acting as if who we are on the outside negates our intelligence and drive.

The quality of our insides and the beauty of our outsides aren’t mutually exclusive, and frankly? I’m tired of pretending they are.

Too Long To Tweet- Thoughts on Life That You Didn’t Ask For

1) Walking a dog in high heels screams “I have a death wish.” This morning I took Scout out before I left for work and was at a full 45 degree angle the entire time. She gets so damn excited by squirrels and has no regard for my springy desire for wedges.

2) In related news- I realized last night that, in my head, my dog’s inner dialogue is teen-angst Sally Draper. It is not lost on me, that this is probably because I identify so closely with Sally’s snarkiness. Several times in last night’s Mad Men premiere, I was absolutely giddy about her mean-ness.

Gems included:

“She acts like she’s 25 just because she uses tampons…”

“First of all… I don’t know why you’re counting my meals…” (Said to her “I-Eat-My-Feelings,” formerly fat, mother.)

But I think Cosmopolitan’s digital director, Abby Gardner, put it best…

3) Melissa McCarthy throwing a toaster at her “basketball players” was the highlight of my Saturday night. And Sunday morning. And the other 6 times I’ve watched this video.

4) I’m so super pale that a walk on the canal and an outdoor beer left me a rosey red color that screams- Why is this girl not outdoors more? Is she related to Casper the Friendly Ghost? Why the hell did she choose an oddly cut v-neck that has created tan (burn) lines on her, inopportune for any other top she might want to wear?

5) Is there anything more ridiculously depressing than accidentally wearing a really cute outfit on a day of boring? And, I know, I know, we should dress for fabulous every day. Insert Coco Chanel or Audrey Hepburn quote here. WHATEVER. That’s not who I am. I’m the girl who, if she had her choice (and it were socially acceptable), would live in v-neck t-shirt and stretchy work out capris (While not working out at all. Instead, maybe eating something). So when I happen to put together an outfit that makes me feel particularly kick ass, and I have nothing but BLAH that day? I get irrationally bitter and feel like I’ve been somehow cheated.

6) Stop bitching at me for live tweeting tv shows. It’s not my fault you’re not watching it. As far as I’m concerned, the joy of viewing TV shows with a large social following, is as much about the social experience as the content. (In some cases, i.e. The Bachelor, with no redeeming content value of its own, the social component is the only reason I tune in.) So if you’re NOT watching the show? You should probably stop refreshing your Twitter feed.

(Of Note: This is advice I have to follow myself. If I get sucked into something else during Scandal, I purposefully avoid Twitter all evening. And if I don’t? I’m obligated to not yell at Tweet-ers for spoiling it. It’s social media. I’m aware of know how it works.)

7) My “I Have a Dog” post received a ton of hits last week. Thanks for that, random people who don’t usually read my blog, and probably aren’t reading this mess. I must say- this post started out, seeming like a super good way to share the random thoughts I had that were too long for Twitter and too short for individual blog posts. Now I may just be rambling…

In related news, I’m also writing a weekly column of sorts for twentysomething Indy, an online magazine with so many articles far more interesting than anything I would say. But, in the event you happen to read this, and are insane enough to think “GOD. I just can’t get enough of her. I NEED more,” feel free to click away. Highlight? I have my own logo. I’m pretty proud of that.

That’s all for now people. Have a lovely start to your week.

I have a dog.

I know this isn’t special- I do. People all over the country have dogs. (I almost put world, before being reminded that in some parts of the world, dogs are food not pets.)

But the thing is- I’ve never had one before. Never ever. And not just a dog- I’ve never had a pet of any sort. My mom always said we were gone too much, but I think the reality is that I would have inevitably killed it off, and then she’d have had to deal with that.

So when all of this happened- when Scout needed a home and I volunteered, I was more than a little apprehensive. Hell- I’m still a little apprehensive. I don’t actually know what I’m doing and while I’ve felt super victorious at our puppy progress- I can also acknowledge that we’ve logged less than 72 hours together.

 

But it’s really the spiral into “Obnoxious Pet Mommy,” that has happened so quickly, and surprised me the most. I have now, on two occasions, had “check in” conversations regarding my dog’s bowel movements. That, all by itself is super disturbing. And there’s more…

I can’t stop taking pictures of every vaguely precious thing she does and I find myself trotting out said pictures of her EVERY. WHERE. I. GO. I have planned my weekend around dog outings we can take (What better way to enjoy our first pretty spring weekend? White River State Park. Broadripple Dog Park. Mass Ave. for a 3 Dogs Bakery snack. These things are happening.) and I’m making schedule adjustments to make sure we have time for our Podcast listening walks. (WHAT? She gets exercise. I’m learning. THIS ISN’T WEIRD.)

Even worse? I’m telling her “Mommy has to go to work- I’ll be back,” when I leave for the day, like I’m dropping my child off to daycare. She’s a dog. And not to mention that it’s physically and biologically impossible for me to be her Mom, it also borders on insane.

Plus- my bank account is feeling the hit. Every Target trip, every WalMart stop, involves finding some precious little squeak toy/bone/treat for her. Sure, this is mostly because I’m not above buying people’s (and dog’s) affections but still- Obnoxious Pet Mommy, Party of 1.

 

 

Catharsis. By Way of Crazy.

I’m a planner. I think through scenarios with a specificity that any sane person would find exhausting. And once I’ve set my mind upon “what should happen,” I have a hard time with anything the throws a wrench in that.

When something doesn’t go according to plan- I take it harder than I should, reeling in a way usually reserved for someone’s horrible break up.

Last night, I went straight home after work, (pouted), ate crappy Thai food, (pouted), watched The Mindy Project and New Girl I missed last week, (pouted), and finally peeled myself off the couch, forcing myself into a workout. Admittedly, I wasn’t super productive but I got sweaty and listened to This American Life and when you factor in my mindset, scaling Mount Vesuvius couldn’t have left me feeling more victorious.

Heading back to my apartment, I began very calmy talking to myself- “What’s happening here is character shaping. I’m experiencing growth. I am moving past imagined failings and real disappointments. I may not get everything I want, but hard work provides us the things we need.”

Blah blah blahhhhhh.

And the dialogue, taken directly out of a movie scene, where some poor negotiator talks a man down from the ledge, didn’t stop for the rest of the night.

“Perspective,” I’d say to myself in super soothing tones.

“You have a friend who lost her family dog yesterday, another, struggling with a happily ever after scenario, no Disney film prepared her for. Don’t be ridiculous Taylor- Those are all weights far heavier than the ones in your head.”

I watched 180 Days on PBS and witnessed kids deal with the loss of a parent, the cracks in our educational system and a culture that is failing them.

“Your hurdles can’t begin to compare Taylor. You should be helping, finding out what you can do, instead of spending the better part of your evening pouting.”

I promised myself I’d spend some time researching and seeing what I could do.

Then I headed to bed, did my last social media check of the day and smiled as more and more of my Facebook feed turned red. I felt pride in the multitude of millenials who were showing their support, rallying behind the first day of Supreme Court hearings on marriage equality and thought back to The Loving Story, the documentary detailing the story of Loving v. Virginia:

“Marriage is one of the “basic civil rights of man,” fundamental to our very existence and survival…. To deny this fundamental freedom on so unsupportable a basis as the racial classifications embodied in these statutes, classifications so directly subversive of the principle of equality at the heart of the Fourteenth Amendment, is surely to deprive all the State’s citizens of liberty without due process of law. The Fourteenth Amendment requires that the freedom of choice to marry not be restricted by invidious racial discrimination. Under our Constitution, the freedom to marry, or not marry, a person of another race resides with the individual and cannot be infringed by the State.”

I went to bed thinking I was better. Whole. Sane.

And then I woke up at 4:00 a.m. in a panic, with no amount of soothing rhetoric able to stop my whirling brain.

The biggest problem is- nothing happened. Nothing happened other than my inability to wrap my head around change and a hint of pervasive self doubt I’m not proud of. There is no imminent problem to be fixed, no list of to-dos I can tackle. If I’m being honest, what I most need is time, and several deep breaths. But some days that’s easier said than done.

The Straight Woman’s Worst Nightmare.

Today, the British House of Commons passed a marriage equality bill by a vote of 400-175. Prime Minister David Cameron, a supporter of this legislation, is expected to sign it, calling the measure, “an important step forward.” In honor of we Americans, taking our sweet and entirely too slow time, I give you this video. Feel free to use this as a reminder that there are consequences for inaction. REMINDER.

Thank god for The Upworthiest for dropping this gem in my mailbox.