By now we all know about the ridiculously stupid email that Harvard Law student Stephanie Grace sent out to a few fellow students that has since taken over the interwebs.  Just in case you haven’t heard, she posits that African American people might be intellectually inferior to white people, wrote it in a email and sent it to some friends. Like I said, ridiculously stupid.  She is an example of someone who could use some black friends and a lesson in electronic media 101, imo.

If you google search, you’ll find a boatload of articles/blog poses on the subject, here I’ve chosen two of my faves. I’ve chosen them because they are smartly written and bunches of comments that add to the discussion. These articles also provide links to other articles, if you choose to read further.

Here’s an article of all the reasons S. Grace is a fool from a white feminist point of view and here’s a article from a black male point of view. Be sure to stick around for the comments on each, as they are invaluable.

[changing the subject with zero transition]

If you haven’t had a chance to click over to Cosmopolitan Urbanist lately, I’ve been writing there too. YAY! Since I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about homeless people, that’s the topic of the series I’ve been writing over there. Check it out.

Homeless In the City

My Friend, The Homeless Lady

Where Do the Homeless Go In the Winter

AND last but not least for your reading and listening pleasure,

Larry King interviews newly out Christian entertainer Jennifer Knapp, uber-conservative Ted Haggard, Pastor Bob Botsford of the Horizon Church, and some other gay people.  The topic of discussion? Being Gay and Christian.

I decided to include this I get so frustrated by the visceral hatred being spouted by supposed Christians.  One of the reasons that I’m going to Divinity School is to add more modern sensible voices to the Christian debate. I’m sick of the the Church excluding people for stuff that Jesus wouldn’ t have cared about. (video via Autostraddle- if you’re gay and/or a woman you should be reading them, fyi)

AKA: In which I come clean about something very important.

In January, I wrote a very vague post about something that I was doing but wasn’t ready to talk about. Later I tweeted about having really great news but not being able to talk about it until I told the GF and my mom.

At this point, I’ve told everyone (and I do mean everyone) IRL that truly needed to know. I mean, there are some things that some people just should not learn from reading this blog.

So now I’m ready to tell you.

In January (with 2 weeks to application deadline) I decided to apply to Divinity School. Yeah, I know I said I was done with school for a while, yeah I know I JUST finished MPA school. Yeah, I know I curse like a sailor and talk crap about the church. Yes, I know, I know, I know. And I’m sure in the lead up before I leave the cube and return to the academy, you’ll know all the answers to these questions and more.

But now, the beginning.

Completing the seminary application form was a life changing experience. I went through about 20 iterations of my application essay. I struggled over which aspects of my personality and experiences where most important for the Candler admissions committee. I contemplated telling them how I really felt about the church and how I hoped to change it. I added and deleted and added again, sections about blending the MPA and MDiv, my undergraduate experience, and my work experience. I even wrote a section about Gen Y. I had 4 friends (graduates and current divinity students) read my essay. The GF and I LIVED and BREATHED my Candler essay for weeks. I went back and forth over my purpose in attending Divinity School, and second guessed whether it was the right thing to do.

In the end, I decided to put my best foot forward, tell them as much about myself and my personal spirituality as possible (even linking to my blogs), push the submit button, and leave it in the hands of the Divine.  I decided that if I got in, it was meant to be. And if I didn’t get it, so be it.  Then I tried (unsuccessfully) not to obsess about it.

If you happen to read my bio on Brazen, you’ll see that years ago [it desperately needs to be updated], I said that I would study Religion if I didn’t have to work for a living. Well, I’ve been working for a living for almost a year now, and I hate every minute of it.  I decided to screw what I’m supposed to do, and concentrate of creating a life that would make me happy to live it.

I’ve been an amateur theologian and wisdom dispenser my entire life.  My childhood was spent memorizing bible verses, attending revivals and getting my PK friends into trouble. I was THE CHURCH GIRL.  And back then I hated it because I wanted to be like everyone else. 

By high school and college, I was the person people came to with their problems. I was still Church Girl but I was slowly learning to filter out all the church BS and help people in a practical way.

Today, my religious background is an undeniable part of who I am.  Biblical literature and religious trivia is one of the few things that I get truly geeky about. I could write a book (and I just might) on everything that I think is wrong with Christianity and all that I think the western world could learn from other world religions.  Sitting in a Systemic Theology class at Candler almost had me wet my pants in excitement. Reading Candler’s course catalog nearly had me in a dead faint.

I’ve spent the past 10 years trying to figure out who I am and how I want to spend my time. I found my purpose for helping people while working with citizens in local government, MPA school introduced me to urban problems like housing and community development and gave me the technical background to be effective in those areas, and seminary will nurture the caring and compassionate part of my personality that I will need to tackle the “people-side” some of those and other large social problems.  Each step I make gets me just a little bit closer, like I’m making increasingly smaller concentric circles. 

Each experience, even my current job, adds something to my professional toolbox and gives me the opportunity to learn something about myself, the world I live in, and my place in the mix.

I’m excited to say that Candler decided that my love of social justice and my decidedly untraditional brand of spirituality is a good fit for their program. Last week I sent them my deposit.

It’s official. I’ll be attending Emory University’s Candler School of Theology in the Fall.

AKA- I can be sexy, too OR  A word from your fat friend

This post is a rant and a confession and an invocation. I might curse. Forgive me.

Earlier this week I was watching Tough Love reruns on VH1 On Demand (don’t judge me). I actually love Tough Love. It teaches women to get over themselves, and be open to love. It also teaches them how to go after what they want, which is in this case, a man.

I was watching the episode where the ladies posed for a photos where they were supposed to be sexy. They were meant to be sexy, not slutty, not skanky, not tomboyish, not porn star, not business casual. Sexy.

Of course the ladies each had their own ideas about what sexy looks like.  Some wore t-shirts and boxers, there were a couple of short pleated skirts and baby doll dresses, one girl wore a large button down shirt, in past seasons, girls have worn next to nothing, or strawberries and whipped cream.  Most of them failed miserably at being sexy.

One girl, whose pictures came out horribly, kept saying that she didn’t know how to be sexy because she used to be fat.   Men never look at me, she said. Sexy isn’t something that I know anything about, she whined.

I call bullshit. How dare she use her weight as an excuse for not knowing how to be sexy!

I have always, ALWAYS been the fat friend. Even when I was 17 and a size 8, I was the fat friend with size 2 friends. In college, when I was a size 12, I was the fat friend surrounded by size 4’s and 6’s. Now, at my most rotund, my friends run marathons, and climb rocks, and do other ridiculously athletic shit like that.  I secretly hate those skinny bitches

As the fat friend, you might think I’d be relegated to the sidelines, watching all my skinny friends get hit on and danced with and talked to.

Nope.

In all my years of being the fat friend, I’ve never, NEVER not been sexy. Regardless of the thickness of my thighs, or the jiggle of my stomach, or the pudge in my cheeks, I am always among the sexiess people in the room.  I’ve never had a problem with getting attention from WHOMEVER I want.  Even in the gym (post workout!!) people try to get my phone number.  I get chatted up on the walking trail near my house.

So how dare this recently skinny chick talk about how she doesn’t know how to be sexy because she used to be fat? I wanna elbow her in the stomach for spouting that stupidity on TV and fuck VH1 for even allowing that to make it in the broadcast.

This poor woman’s problem has little to do with the number on the scale, and everything to do with her lack of self confidence. She doesn’t think she’s sexy. Not when she was fat, and not even now since she’s skinny. Somewhere along the way, she lost her mojo.

You can call it mojo, self-esteem, inner spark, personality, whatever. She lost hers. And that makes me sad for her.

But I’m pissed because somewhere some chunky girl heard her talk shit about her weight and might have thought, Oh I can’t be sexy because of my weight?

Dear Fat Girls of the World: You, too, can be sexy.

A few weeks ago I attended an awesome Food Seminar at Woo Cosmetics on carbohydrates with a buddy of mine.  Leaving the seminar my friend and I were talking about body size and body image, and I mentioned how being the fat friend has never stopped me from also being the sexy friend or the pretty friend or whatever.

She looked at me with a funny little frown. She said, I’ve never thought of you as my fat friend.  You have too much sass and spark to be the fat friend.

Notice that nothing she said had anything to do with how much I actually weigh. Being the fat friend is a state of mind, not the size of your skirt.

I have a friend who insults people by calling them fat. I look at the girls she calls fat and cringe. Because the girls she calls fat so aren’t. And if she thinks they’re fat, then what the fuck does she think of me?

I know for a fact that she thinks I’m gorgeous and athletic and too cool for my cube. She doesn’t even think about my weight when she cattily insults someone by calling them a fatty.

Even when you ARE the fat friend, it’s still what is inside that counts. Regardless of weight, age, height, whatever, we all can be sexy.

You might need to reach down inside yourself, find your mojo, set it up on your shoulder, and  smile but dammit your sexy is THERE. Bring it out and show it to us.

I had a therapist the entire time I was in graduate school. Therapy, for me, consisted of once or twice a month meetings where my therapist and I would discuss whatever current crisis was happening in my life.  And it really felt like my life was a series of crises. Every month, poor Doc had to talk me off the ledge.

She had a saying that I still repeat to myself.

“Unless you get hit by a bus, you are going to be ok.  No matter what.”

For two and a half years, all the time I worked with her, no matter what the crisis, the Doc never wavered.

No matter that I broke off my engagement.

No matter that I quit my job to go back to school.

No matter that I have to make friends (or at least TRY to be nice to people).

No matter that I started a new relationship.

No matter that I came out to my mother as a lesbian.

No matter that I wasn’t the smartest and most active in school

No matter that I constantly worried about stuff that probably won’t happen.

No matter what.

Every month she reminded me that as long as I didn’t get hit by a bus, I would survive.

Whenever I get overwhelmed, or frustrated or afraid I try to remember that I haven’t been hit by a bus, so I must be ok.

AKA: In which I tell the universe what kind of job to send me.

A few weeks ago a friend (let’s call her Carla) and I were discussing our bosses and the undying love (not) that each of us has for our jobs. I told Carla how I had no intention or desire to work in state government, yet here I am.  I went on to tell her how state government sucks and I hate every minute of it.

Later in the conversation, Carla asked me what exactly I’d like to do. So I told her about what I hope to accomplish one day with Cosmopolitan Urbanist, and I told her about my research in affordable housing, downtown redevelopment, and community development. I told her about the project that I’m working on with my gym. Not concretely saying what I want to do, just kind of listing the stuff that really interests me.

Then Carla told me about her ideal job. And I decided to steal it.

So in the Spirit of Carla’s career statement, here goes my own:

I want a job where I’m hired because I’m me. The organization(s) trusts in me enough to do my job, without interference, without daily reporting, without having to clock in or sit in a cube all day.  I want a wide variety of interesting, socially conscious, useful projects and the freedom to pick which ones I want. I want to work without always needing to work at “break neck” speed but always keeping my deadlines in sight. I want to work with a group of interesting, creative, and social individuals that like and respect me.  And I don’t want to wait until I’m 50 (or 30, for that matter) to get this job.

Thinking in “big picture” reminded me of what I used to tell people in graduate school when they’d ask me what I wanted to do after graduation:   I want to work for an organization that allows me to work on large social problems, helps me to grow professionally and personally, in an environment that’s friendly and inclusive, in a large metropolitan area.

People always looked at me strangely when I said that. I think they wanted me to say something simple like, I want to work in local government or non-profits, or consulting, or urban development. I learned early that my ideal work environment is way more important to me that the actual work that I’m assigned. More often than not, even digging ditches can be fun if you’re doing it with a great group of people.

Don’t get me wrong, I think I would hate flipping burgers even if my 6 favorite bloggers joined me every day [thought it would be fun for a while], but to me, a good work environment is just as important as doing important work. Having worked with great co-workers doing menial tasks and not-so-great co-workers doing relatively good work; I’d rather stuff envelopes and have someone fun to talk to any day of the week.

I’m hoping for the trifecta: a great team of co-workers, work that’s engaging- intellectually and socially, and mornings where I don’t wake up hating the fact that I have to work.

So, Universe, bring me my ideal job,  Mmmhkay?

AKA Things I have to leave in my 20’s

I can’t remember when I fell in love with Long Island Iced Tea (LIT). Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that my late teens and early twenties are such a blur, but it seems that I quickly graduated from sipping my mother’s strawberry daiquiris, to having someone order my rum and Cokes or Margaritas, to buying my own cheap boxed Merlot for the dorm room and ordering LIT out in public.

I’ve decided to blame the drugged environment of the fine dining restaurant where I worked in college. We had a couple of amazing bartenders that loved nothing more than push alcoholic beverages in my face and watch my face light up with their yumminess.  I remember my 21st birthday, and the dismay on the general manager’s face when he heard my age because I’d been drinking there for years.

Aside: I experienced a number of firsts in that restaurant- my first scotch and water, my first sashimi, my first rare steak, my first cigar, my first LEGAL drink, the first job I loved, probably my first LIT. It’s likely that working in that restaurant from age 19-22 years laid the foundation for debaucherous decade that has become my twenties.

The LIT has certainly played a starring role during this decade. For whatever reason, in spite of all the other drinks that I’ve come to love: the Grey Goose Gimlet, the Tangeray Gin and Tonic, Jack and Ginger or Coke, or if I’m feeling sophisticated, a nice spicy Cabernet, or girly; a sweet Riesling….. I most often order a LIT.  You just CAN’T go wrong with an LIT.

As I approach the twilight years of the decade, I’m blessed to have a guide. The GF is a few years older and infinitely wise in the ways of making it successfully past the big 2-9.  As my twenties disappear she tells me how this body part stops working and that one starts to creak, and you can’t do that like you used to and, so on and so on. Because I’m hardheaded, I’m slow to listen to her advice.

In my mind, my body is ageless, timeless, immortal. The normal rules of aging do not apply to me. And I’ll kick anyone in the face that dares to disagree with me. And because normal aging rules do not *cough* apply to me, I have, on occasion, continued to behave as I did at 22.  And at the end of those nights, the GF makes sure I have a small hamburger, 4 Advil and a big glass of water. (Gosh, I love her.)  Still, more often than not, on those cursed hungover mornings after, the GF turns to me with a smirk and says, “How old are you again?”

This past weekend, after (MY LAST, I SWEAR) brutal hangover after drinking mostly Sangria, followed by one JUST one LIT, I finally started to understand. My 28 year old body does not metabolize (ugh, I hate that word) alcohol the way that 22, 25 or even 27 year old Monica did.

I hate to report that the LIT and I have broken up. I’ve resigned myself to stick with the occasional glass of wine, or the single liquor drink. (oh how it pains me to say this)

But, there are just some things I’m not willing to put my body through. Killing my feet in high heels is one of them, ridiculous all day hangovers is another one.

You know that feeling where you get sometimes that feels like butterflies in your tummy? The one where your body is a vibrating, waiting, tense wire. You’re so ready to MOVE that your head is either going to explode or you are going to pee in your pants.

When you get this feeling, this…. sensation… your spirit, your VERY SOUL is pulls you in 8 different directions, your toe is tapping and your web browser has, like, 35 tabs open. And if you’re anything like me, your computer just ISN’T fast enough to keep up with you.

You probably have not been sleeping well because as soon as your head hits the pillow, your mind starts thinking all these crazy ideas, and you have to get up and write them down because you’ll never remember them all in the morning. But if you get up now, you’re going to spend another hour writing, then another 30 minutes or so calming back down (warm milk or tequila helps).

And you probably have a dull headache because you’re sleepy, you’ve been sitting too close to the computer and you forgot to eat lunch.

Welcome to my week.

Maybe it’s excitement of 3 of my favorite “non-related to me” women having birthdays (go Aries!), maybe it’s the reverence in the air with Holy Week, Passover, and the Spring Equinox all converging, or maybe the tutonic plates which are my life are coming together in a way that is not unlike an earthquake.

I don’t know what the f*ck is going on, but I’m feeling a little crazy.

Have an AMAZING weekend! May you feel the excitement, the change, the expectancy that I feel at this moment.  May it play over your skin like musical notes. May it be in the very air you breathe. My it fill you like water. May it carry you forward towards your dreams.

Alternatively titled I love the Internets or I just wanted To Share

I have several half written blog posts that *one day* will make here for your reading pleasure, but today I’m just going to share a few posts that  resonated with me in a very special way. So without further ado.

Blogs that made my day.

Being by Doniree:  Found via (Genpink): I love this post so much that, not only do I want to print it and read it lots, I also want to copy it.  Not word for word, but I want to copy the style of it and create my own “I am” piece.

You Already Have Everything You Need by Jenny Blake: I’m not sure whether I have a humongous girl crush on Jenny or if this is just hero worship but I love her.  This post is the answer to all of my angst filled “why can’t I just get over myself and do something” posts.

How To Be Creative At Work by Penelope Trunk: She kind of lost me in the middle with all the high brow vs low brow commentary, but the last paragraph sums up the trouble that I think I have finding work in organizations and how I feel today about the work I’m not allowed to do at work. Sometimes our pre-conceived idea of what is acceptable or what we need causes us to miss out on the gems that are amazing but don’t quite fit what we’re looking for.

Empty Spaces (and Moving Past Loneliness by Jenny Blake: (Told you that I love her!) I love this post because I can relate. Moving to Atlanta was incredibly hard. I left a lot of my “I’ll be at your door in 15 minutes” friends in NC, and haven’t really filled that space yet. So now when the GF and I are involved with different things, and I can’t get someone on the phone, I find myself really alone for the first time ever. It’s f’ing scary and I hate it but those times teach me to be comfortable with and by myself.

Rescued by a Social Justice Christian by KT_Writes: As I struggle to reconcile my spirituality with the other parts of my personality, I crave wisdom from other people who succeed in that endeavor. Kristin is a great example of Christian done right. And this post exemplifies points about Christianity that many Christians fail to remember. Jesus is about service and helping others and feeding the poor. And that’s all social justice is.

Kevin Powells “Open Letter to Black America” by Sista Toldja: I really like this letter.  It speaks to several issues: Spiritually, Health, Community Economic Development, and Urban land development issues that I care deeply about and that I worry don’t get the “air play” that they deserve. I also believe that while this letter was aimed specifically at Black folk, there are a lot of poor Asian, Hispanic, Latino and other folk who need to read/hear/see it as well.

Wyoming recently signed legislation adopting an official state code based on the Cowboy Code.

I didn’t have a TV much in my childhood, but when we had one in the house, my mother and grandfather made me watch western movies, Oprah, and the Andy Griffin show.  I never liked western movies; they were usually old, old movies, still in black and white.  I knew they were not the shows that my classmates talked about in school.

Despite my displeasure at having to watch those old movies and in my mind, “old people shows”, the cowboy movies always sucked me it.  Cowboys, to me, are exactly the way men are supposed to be. They are even better than the men from my favorite historical romances (which I LOVE).

Cowboys work quickly and quietly, they always do the right thing, even when it hurts, they are bound by honor, they always get the bad guys, they are good to the women around them, and they are kind to animals.  What more could one want in a man?

So when I listened to this podcast I was intrigued by the notion of a law created in the spirit of the cowboys from those old black and white movies. It only took a little digging to find this from Outdoor Life.

Although the historic Code of the West was unwritten, cowboys, trappers, hunters and others in the U.S. frontier knew it was about maintaining honesty, integrity and courage in a wide-open region where the affects of government barely reached and laws were not always enforced. Even though the bill is merely a symbolic gesture, carries no criminal penalties and is not meant to replace any civil codes, here at the Newshound, we think it reflects a pretty valuable ideology.

Ten Principles of Cowboy Ethics:

1. Live each day with courage

2. Take pride in your work

3. Always finish what you start

4. Do what has to be done

5. Be tough, but fair

6. When you make a promise, keep it

7. Ride for the brand

8. Talk less and say more

9. Remember that some things aren’t for sale

10. Know where to draw the line

Isn’t this cool, and so very true!? If only those in power (political, economic and social) believed and lived by these. But this list isn’t just for the rich or powerful.

What I love the most about this list is that it isn’t JUST about how to do more or better work. This is about how to live a better life. We all could live fuller, happier lives and make the world a better place if we keep this code in mind.

How different would the world be if everyone kept their promises (and we trusted them to keep their promises) or if everyone lived with the courage to do what needs to be done or our souls/environment/country couldn’t be sold to the highest bidder.

I’m adding this to my vision board. Who knew that the cowboys from my mama’s favorite movies were not only perfect men, but also good models of ethical behavior? Maybe THAT’S what made them perfect

A month or so ago, I reconnected with one of my first blog homies, Holly Hoffman, who has been doing BIG THANGS for herself lately.

We tweeting briefly and she asked me what’s been going on in my life lately. And I replied like a smart aleck,“I’m full of angst as usual. Trudging upstream. Surrounded by mediocrity”

I thought Holly would laugh it off, or commiserate before moving on to the next topic.  She didn’t.  Instead she asked me what I’m going to do to change it.

After I gasped in shock and horror, I scrambled for a reply. I wanted to reply in a way that didn’t make me look like the lame asses around me that I deplore but I wanted to be truthful and not say something that could come back later and bite me in the ass. So I replied with an only-slightly BS line about “working on some things and making some connections” when in reality I spend most of my time lamenting the fact that I’m not writing much, and watching TV on Fancast and Netflix.

But having been posed that question by Holly, I started to really think about the things that I dislike about my life and all the stuff I’m not doing to change it.  And I realized something. I’m incredibly lazy and beset by inertia.

Inertia, according to Wikipedia, is the resistance of an object to change its state of motion.

“The vis insita, or innate force of matter is a power of resisting, by which every body, as much as in it lies, endeavors to preserve in its present state, whether it be of rest, or of moving uniformly forward in a straight line.”

Before I get all over my head in science world, basically this means that as much as I think I’d like to change certain aspects of my life (or even myself) at least a part of me is comfortable here.

A less science-y example:  This past weekend in Atlanta was gorgeous. 74 degrees, sunny. It was an amazing glimpse of Spring and I loved every second of it. But over the past few months, I’ve gotten used to wearing a coat, gloves, scarf and hat and walking around outside in just my regular clothes and a small sweater made me feel exposed and incomplete.  And I HATE bulky winter outerwear.

But it just goes to show you how easily behaviors and mindsets can become ingrained and how things, even the things that we hate, can become the norm.

There are lots of things I want to do, but every time I make a little progress, something (usually my own negativity) pulls me back into inertia.

I don’t have a solution to my inertia problem; if I did I’d be 50 pounds lighter, have written a book or two and would be chilling in Costa Rica. I know you are probably thinking (like I often do) Why don’t you just get off your ass and DO something.

I only wish it were that easy. Inertia is a powerful thing. You see, not only does the power of inertia state that an object will remain in its current state of motion, it also states that only a greater force can cause the object to change.

Last summer I was hit by a greater force. I graduated from MPA school with no prospects for employment. I was given the chance to change my life and break away from the power of inertia. I was living with the GF in a stable environment that could have been a breeding ground for creativity, self-discovery and entrepreneurship. Mostly it wasn’t. I wasted my tine trying to get back to where I was most comfortable. Working for someone else.  I dabbled in starting my own business, but I don’t think I took it as seriously as I should have. I didn’t push as hard as I should have.  Now I find myself, basically in the same place that I was in before I went to graduate school, except now it’s worse.

When I look at some of my peers, I see them as these brilliant rockets blasting off into the outer spaces of life and success and I wonder what drives them so.  This reminds me of a quote I heard during one of my Philosophers’ Notes that says that

“the majority of fuel used by a rocket is  used during take-off when the rocket is trying to breech the Earth’s gravitational pull.”

Hmmm.

Physics (Gravity and Inertia) shows us that the hardest part is getting started. Maybe, if I can just start moving and build some momentum, I can shift my inertia from one of standing still to one of constant movement. Maybe it only takes a push to propel myself (figuratively) into the air. Maybe then getting to and staying at cruising altitude will be relatively easy.