august 2011
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
The Republica Update/I Am White
I am white.
It is painful for me to admit, but it is time I came clean. I was raised, for the most part, in white suburbia along with friends who came from homes with similar economic situations and ancestry with similar cocktails of European blood.
The reason I make note of this is that, despite the fact that I grew up in an analogous environment, fraught with middle class ignorance and small town aspirations, my parents somehow aided in my ability to break free of my pedestrian upbringing and be open to new experiences and new people. No small feat for a girl who could name the black kids she went to school with.
Most everyone I know has experienced some sort of discrimination. Many believe that being a white kid from the suburbs makes you immune to such scrutiny, but it most certainly does not. In college my co-workers paid no mind to the fact that I too was sweating my ass off and taking all of the double shifts I could handle because they were under the assumption that my daddy paid for everything. An assumption made all the more humorous when you actually know the man that (with my mother) gave me life. At first I was offended, and then became indifferent. (Read More)
august 2011
Monday, August 22, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
3000 miles in 72 hours
I went home last weekend for a wedding and my Trentenera Part II. The trip was brief, but well worth it. Each time I go home I not only question why I left, but am more certain in the fact that the best people I have ever and will ever know, remain there.
august 2011
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
The Republica Update/Do I Have To Hop On The Baby Train?
I am not a mother and although I will admit to the increasing frequency with which my uterus aches at the site of chubby cheeks and tiny tennis shoes, I am not sure I ever will be. I am maternal no doubt, and with a dozen stints as a bridesmaid under my belt and a rapid increase in my unofficial aunt hood status one would think the next logical step would be to get myself knocked up. With my peer group immersing itself in the world of procreation I often am left to wonder if I should be hopping on the baby train?
When I was a little girl I either played school with my girlfriends, where I was the teacher and therefore the boss, or passively played GI Joes with the little boy in my neighborhood who’s inherent ability to make gun and explosion noises always left me green with envy. Sure, I had a couple of dolls that I tossed about, but playing Mommy to Bianca, my Cabbage Patch Kid, never really occurred to me.
For years, I fancied myself a tomboy. To be perfectly frank, I still do and although I have traded in my baggy jeans and boxer shorts for leggings and wedges the ultimate embodiment of becoming a woman, motherhood, is still just a theory for me. Being a mom is something grownups do when they have mortgages and lower back pain. Sure I pay rent and have a bad ankle and cannot deny the fact that I too am aging, with stray greys sprouting up as reminders of time passing, but I am not that grown up? With my own mother still asserting her parental rights over me, I certainly do not yet feel ready to be a mother myself. (Read More)
august 2011
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