breaking up is hard to do

I woke up this morning and came to the sad realization that I would be waking up in Charleston (as a student/transfer-South Carolinian/Charlestonian) for the last time.  I graduated yesterday, and while that fills me with pride in my accomplishments and excitement about starting the next chapter of my life, it has also plagued me with sadness and nostalgia.

I have said goodbye to a lot of people I love and "see you later" to the ones who can never be rid of me,  but I am still grievously sad (as anyone within 40 feet of me can attest - I have cried a lot this week).  Why am I so sad though? This is the beginning of something new, even though it means the end of something beloved.   And then I realized why I am so weepy:

I am breaking up with Charleston.

I took this picture at Freshman Orientation, Summer 2008 :)

I once joked on Facebook that I was "in a relationship with the city of Charleston" and "it's complicated."  Complicated because so many people are in the same relationship, I think. Or because in the summer it gets really hot and smells like garbage and/or fish. Sometimes it's hard to love that. But I did.

In the summer I would joke that I was "in a long-distance relationship with the city of Charleston."   I would start to have dreams about just walking the streets, I missed it so much.  And then a month would go by and it would be time to move back. And I would roll down the windows as we drove into the city and say "it smells like beach" and smile.  And I would unpack and take a walk around the city, wishing on several occasions that it were possible to give the city a BIG I-missed-you hug.  (I had to settle for a lamppost. There was gum on it...)

I haven't experienced very many break-ups, and they have never been too devastating, and I think that's because I have never truly been in love.  Until I moved to Charleston.

I know it's a break-up (and that's why I am so inconsolably sad) because:

• Every song is about us.   (me and Charleston, that is.)  Driving home from my parents' hotel room the other night, I heard two songs on the radio and I wanted to cry.  These are songs that I have heard millions of times before and on the surface have nothing to do with graduating or leaving or anything really. They were:
• Hold on Loosely - 38 Special   "usually it's too late when you/ realize what you had/ so hold on loosely/and don't let go...etc."
• Mr. Jones - Counting Crows  "when everybody loves you/ you can never be lonely"
• thank goodness I didn't hear the Cheers theme or James Taylor or "How Far We've Come" or something otherwise reminisce-y.  Looking at these lyrics now, it seems really stupid, but the other night these songs were about meeee.  And that's how I know it's a break-up. Because I am acting crazy.
• When people say "you can still come visit!"  what I hear is "we can still be friends...."  Visiting is such a hollow mockery of our relationship it makes me sad to think about it. I will always belong here, but I won't belong to Charleston the same way ever again.
• I know that this is "for the best" but I don't care. We will both go on to grow and flourish. But I am allowed to be sad about something wonderful ending. So damn it, I will be sad. 

So goodbye, Charleston.

It sucks to leave you.  I will always have a HUGE place in my heart for you and for the College and all the wonderful people I met as a happy consequence of moving here four years ago.  I will miss you. I will miss the Farmer's Market and praline samples and Charleston Christmas traditions and nuns and church bells and crooked streets and lampposts covered in gum and old houses and boarded-up fireplaces and seagulls and the Cooper River Bridge and horse-drawn carriages and alleyways and the Battery and bicycles and the best cupcakes I will ever eat. I will probably never stop dreaming about walking these streets with the people I love.
Stay beautiful, Charleston.  I will be back to visit (we can still be friends).

I've cried a lot about leaving here, but this morning when I looked out my window I knew it was never a one-sided relationship:  Charleston was crying too.

today on the internet...

I just came back from practice for my graduation from the College.  Cray-zay.   And now that I have the time (which I should be using to do laundry, pack my stuff, and...I don't know...learn French) I am going to regale you with commentary on ridiculous things I found on the internet today.  

I checked the weather this morning (hoping it would rain again so I didn't have to sit on the stage in the blazing sun) and noticed that Weather.com has made some updates.  Again!  I feel like they do a redesign every other week.  Those people are on the ball.   Anyway. Today I noticed a new feature:

That's right. It says "Alert me when it rains."  A useful feature for...cave dwellers? People without windows? Maybe, but chances are that if you aren't already outside or can't see outside, you won't be going outside soon. And if you did, you would probably be able to tell when you got there. I'd hope.

 It doesn't say "alert me when there is a hurricane" or "alert me when there is a deadly waterspout hell-bent on making it inland and headed straight for my house" or "alert me when ash falls out of the sky after a Super Volcano-type situation cuz then I will probably need more than a poncho." It says "alert me when it rains." I am curious to know how many people use this application and why.  But that's for another day.  

OH! Weather.com also lets you know about weather-related "trending" topics from Twitter users in the area.   And surprise! Today's trending topics are "rain," "raining," and "sunny."  Fascinating.  Potentially useful/interesting if the topics are "blood rain" "locusts" or "aliens??"  But for now... it's a bit redundant.

Another thing that caught my attention (potentially more stimulating than weather.com updates) was this article about the new cover for Time Magazine. It's about the mother breastfeeding her almost-four-year-old son. Here's the picture:

Oh my! Controversy! That child is wearing army pants!

 

OK, setting aside anything implied by the actual Time article or the headline ("Are you mom enough?" really? Time Magazine, why you always gotta be startin' sumthin?), the article about the article was pretty inflammatory and stupid.  The url for the Gawker article is "http://gawker.com/5909256/mom-puts-boob-in-giant-preschool-sons-mouth-on-cover-of-time?tag=moms." GIANT preschool son's mouth? I don't know all of his parentage, but I doubt he is even half-Giant. Does he look like a child of Hagrid? No.

The final questions are designed to get commenters into a frenzy.  The first two are valid:

• How does this cover make you feel? 
• Will it haunt [the child's] future? 

but of course, even these questions elicit the most heinous internet responses:

"Wish I was that Kid so I can have my mouth on those sweet jugs : )"    classy.

"Not being breast feed had NOT ONE negative effect on me and I'm closer to my parents than some of my peers. My first cousin breastfeeds her children until they're almost two years old and they're allergic to almost everything under sun!"  to which someone responded: "maybe if you had been breast fed you would understand the concept of sample sizes"    hahaha touche.

 And then people just started getting sarcastic..."Breastfed toddlers are also Giant Pussy Crybaby Whiners. See Science publication Vol456. The correct feeding method is Mountain Dew in a bottle with Kool ashes flicked on the head."

And this gem:

 "First of all he is four and his brother is five, and they both breastfeed. That is way beyond the point of normalcy, whether you agree with that or not ("normal" is relative, but that is a fair point, this is not average behavior). And I only took 4 classes in psych in college (please, please don't brag about this. By starting your sentence this way I have already stopped listening to you) but I am quite sure (you are the expert opinion here) that the kid will develop a different bond with people than most. It is likely that he will be much more needy for companionship (not true - several studies show similar levels of attachment to peers as well as fewer problems weaning off of transition objects like teddy bears and security blankets) since for 4 more years he had to attach himself to his mother for nutrition (what? pretty sure he ate other food - otherwise he would not be the "Giant" you claim he is) while all other kids were learning to eat by themselves. I'm not saying it's a certainty, but it is a likelihood that could prove a major problem later on in life."

I am not going to take a side on this.  I am not going to use anecdotal evidence and say "I know people who breastfed past the age of four and they turned out pretty OK fine" because that is the kind of reasoning these commenters use and it is completely ineffective.  What I will say is this: people on the internet are stupid. I do realize the irony of writing all this on the internet, yes.  But just remember that opinions are opinions and facts are facts. And please don't pretend to be an expert and then admit to not being one in the same sentence.

 

Also, just FYI, I have never before seen the word "tits" used this many times in a comment section about a Time Magazine article. ever.

Guest Blog: The Modern American State of Vegans and Vegetarians

After a few months of radio silence, I come to you with something a little different.  I present to you my first guest blog, written by a friend of mine very interested in many things.  I can't think of a funny name for this person, so for now Guest Blogger is anonymous.  But you might be able to guess who it is.

On today's menu: the state of meat and those who eat it (or don't).

Enjoy. 

Firstly, allow me to go ahead and say that I am not a vegetarian, though I have been in the past (however I’ve never given up eggs, butter, and whole unpasteurized milk, meaning I have never been a vegan, probably not even for a day) for about a year. Meat is definitely on my menu these days, though in a very small ratio compared to veggies. While I feel that there is substantial reason to eat meat and little to no reason to not eat it (in a responsible way, of course), I will leave that soapbox unoccupied for now.  Much more important issues are at hand regarding modern conceptions of vegetables and vegetarians.

A recent news article in the New York Times was published about the hard knock lives of today’s vegans and vegetarians, with their main gripe being the unsatisfactory nature of meat and dairy replacement products. The cost and taste of such products are discouraging to them, and certainly factor into the likelihood of a person remaining on their “vegetarian” diet. Let me go ahead and tell you that, from a year’s worth of vegetarianism (with the occasional exception, of course), it is neither expensive, nor bland. In fact, cutting the (usually) substantial meat portion from your grocery bill and upping your intake of veggies is probably the most budget-friendly thing you can do, but this is where people get into trouble. Vegetarians today aren’t really eating “vegetables” anymore; they are eating insanely processed vegetable-based meat alternatives, which are costly and very unhealthy.

Here’s a quote that we will examine from the NY Times article (April 17^th, 2012, page D6)…

“…even a box of Gardenburgers is 4$ - which doesn’t seem expensive, but when you compare it to the meat counterparts, it’s so much more” –Megan Salisbury

I can’t pass on the irony of her last name… Salisbury steak anyone?

But I digress… it’s more expensive to purchase gardenburgers because a team of scientists had to concoct this disgusting excuse for a meal and marketers had to find clever ways to sell it to unsuspecting and under-informed consumers. Check out the nutrition label on Morningstar Farms’ “Garden Veggie Patties”. You will be surprised to find eggs (definitely not vegan) textured vegetable protein (what sort of “garden” does that grow in?), and a good bit of soy (which we now know is unhealthy when processed, and vastly more beneficial in it’s traditionally prepared fermented forms).

Beef patties however (grass-fed and pastured, preferably), are comparably inexpensive because you only have to do three things to the beef to eat it as a burger: get it off of the cow, grind it, and grill it up.

I will say I have purchased gardenburgers before, and from experience, they are disgusting and horrifically expensive. Save yourself the trouble and buy some real vegetables instead.

The modern state of American vegans and vegetarians is that they are being sold a half-truth at a high price. The health benefits and morality of eating only vegetables is underscored while the actual implementation is perverted, obscured, and capitalized upon to the benefit of such “food” companies as Morningstar Farms and Turtle Island Foods (evil and unhealthy institutions, if you ask me), who prey upon the naivety of their customers.

Why must a newly christened vegetarian seek out costly and often unhealthy alternatives to meat and where does this notion come from? Is it some sort of cardinal sin in modern America to go for a period of time without some form of “burger” or “cheese”? If vegetarians (and people in general) committed themselves to eating and buying real food and not food products, they would…

1.      Spend much less money

2.      Be much more healthy and…

3.      Be “voting” with their dollars for higher quality food.

Before I would advocate any type of nutritional/dietary regimen, exercise routine, or other healthy habit I would say this first and foremost:

EAT REAL FOOD

This goes for anyone, vegetarian or otherwise, because it’s one of the best things you can do for yourself. Put down the twizzlers and have some beets (nature’s candy), cut back the soda and just have some water or juice, forget the frozen “veggie”-burgers and have a salad. There are real vegetables to be had, and they are really good for you.

Here are some tips for you aspiring vegetarians.

1. Eat real vegetables.

I can’t stress this enough, and it’s so simple that it’s almost unreal. Real, fresh from-the-earth vegetables are remarkably healthy for you; they’re packed with micro-nutrients and are relatively lacking in any of the saturated fats or preservatives you should be afraid of.

2. Try a farmer’s market.

Here you’ll find all the local healthy eats that you could possibly want (provided that your farmer’s market is actually focused on selling food, and not touristy garbage). Support your local farmers and they’ll trade you in kind for desirably fresh and healthy vegetables.

3. Learn how to cook.

Simply put, by making your own meals you can know exactly what goes into them. When you buy packaged, frozen meals or weird meat alternatives (The Frankenstein-like “Chik’n”, for instance) you run the risk of ingesting undesirable preservatives or hidden ingredients that you hadn’t expected. Plus you’ll be a great entertainer and slightly more marriageable.

Good food is good for you.

I have been pretty stressed out lately, and noticing a few indicators of anxiety neuroses.

anxiety:  "an unpleasant emotional state for which the cause is either not readily identified or perceived to be uncontrollable or unavoidable"   

yay.

I started to ask questions: When did these start? Why am I so sensitive? Why do I feel like I am stressed or anxious all. the. time? 
How come some people can calm down and not me? (apparently, only 18% of Americans. SO 82% of Americans are anxiety free most of the time! no fair!)
and
Why do I only ever use the left-hand "Shift" key?

That last one has been bugging me for a while now, actually.

Anyway, I started looking back on my life and noticing flare-ups of stress, but a general anxiety blanket over most of my thoughts starting around high school.  So naturally I thought it must have started around there. Something about the universally traumatic experience of post-pubertal development within a public high school plus braces plus orchestra minus cool equals inevitable generalized anxiety problems. 

BUT, as I pointed out earlier, not everyone has these chronic problems. Clearly.

And then, remembered for a completely different reason, a fully formed memory floated into my head:..... (bubbly dream sequence harp playing)...

I was walking behind my church, leaving after some post-Mass event or other, and I was worriedly asking my mother what I would have to know to make my First Communion.  I remember that it was warm and sunny outside, with fluffed pine straw in the landscaping to the right of me and the carpool lane on my left. I remember seeing everything from my much smaller 7-year-old height and the hum of the generator behind the old gymnasium. 
And I remember someone telling me "...you're going to be quizzed on all the priest's homilies. I hope you were paying attention..." 
and all of this, the carpool lane, the generator, the pine straw swirling around me as anxiety scooped me into it's dizzying arms.
 ...I haven't been paying attention, I worried, I'm not going to get it. I'll never get it. I'll be old and wrinkly and no one will give me the Eucharist...

Something in his voice (and the laughter that followed the statement) told me he was kidding, but I couldn't undo the worry. And I didn't - not until I finally did make my First Communion a few agonizing months later (during which I spent every Sunday willing my attention to the priest at his pulpit and begging my brain to remember it). 

And so the pattern goes.

1. Evil thoughts.
2. Needless worry
3. Needless worry
4. must calm down.  CALM DOWN.
5. Oh no!! [insert worry here] is about to happen...
6. Oh, what? [insert worry here] already happened? And everything's fine? Oh. Phew.
7. repeat. ad nauseum.

 Moral of the story: Claire has been like this for a while.

I don't know if you can tell, but I'm about to graduate from college. 
 

the antidote

Just try not to smile.

don't forget to breathe

Life has been stressful lately. I'm going to live in this song for a while.

And all the suffering that you've witnessed
And the hand prints on the wall
They remind you how it's endless
How endlessly you fall


And the answer that you're seeking
For the question that you found
Drives you further to confusion
As you lose your sense of ground


So don't forget to breathe
Don't forget to breathe
Your whole life is here
No eleventh hour reprieve
So don't forget to breathe

Sorry if this bummed you out.

you CAN come home again

They say you can't go home again. And at least physically, that is not true.

Of course you can get in your car/plane/bus/tardis and travel back to where you grew up/where your family is/where you keep most of your stuff. But often times the place that you get to just isn't the same as you remember.  (that is what the saying means, of course, but, like my brother Ryan said last night "I'm just trying to break it down for you guys")

This always strikes me when I come home for winter break, especially this year.

My brother Daniel has taken over my room upon my absence. The only real change to the room is a lightsaber mounted on the wall and an x-box in the corner but it is enough to remind me that it's not my space anymore. 

And that makes me more than a little sad. And it reminds me that I have a future out there to be worrying about.
(but instead I ignore the scary thoughts about next year and the echos of concerned relatives "what are you going to do? what are you going to do? what are you gonna do?" and burrow myself into another knitting project)

The most radical change - the one that takes the most getting used to and always reminds me that I don't really live here anymore - is the refrigerator. 

this is not our fridge. this is a stranger's fridge, which is what I see every time I come home for the holidays

Every time I come home it's completely different, and it serves as a microcosm of the changes within my own house, my own family.  Sure, the cheese is still in the cheese drawer, the vegetables are still sitting (ignored and browning) in the vegetable "crisper" drawer, but the contents and configuration are constantly changing.

Sometimes completely new foods show up that I have never heard of or foods that should never have been bought (called over my shoulder: "Who eats blue cheese stuffed olives???" response from the living room: "Oh they're really good. Try one! Try- just try one. Just. Try it. Fine! Don't ever say I don't introduce you to new things").  Then again, there is still a bottle of sake in there that has been lurking at the back of the fridge for several years now. I'm not sure where we got it. Or why.  But it's still there.

I am almost always completely thrown off by the refrigerator.  I open it, seeking refuge for my gurgling hunger, and stop short as I glance around and remember I have no idea what is in there (or how long it's been in there).  It's just one more thing that's different. 
One more reminder that I don't live here anymore and I better get on with my life, because things are changing without me.

Wow. blogging therapy.

In the end, the refrigerator becomes normal again.
I learn not to eat that thing in the black tupperware that's been there since before I got home, that blue cheese stuffed olives are pretty delicious, after all, and that home will always be home. It's just waiting for me to normalize.