All of this feminism/ anti-feminism stuff is breakin' mah balls, man.
Hello, my name is Mallerie, and I am, what I have come to believe, a feminist.
You know what makes me a feminist? The fact that I am independent, educated, mindful, and respectful toward others. I am not waiting for someone else to come along and support me. I have my own goals and aspirations. I think for myself. I strive to be an exceptional representative of my sex because I can't stand the weak, needy female stereotype; therefore I refuse to be that stereotype. I am not taking for granted the rights I have because strong, amazing women in the past fought for those rights, and women in many countries still do not have those rights. Therefore I work, go to school, educate myself, vote, and voice my opinion when appropriate.
Yes, I admit I have felt the pressure of society's beauty standards. Most people have. I acknowledge the fact that I am not perfect- but you know what? The older I get, the less I give a shit about that kind of stuff. You have to love your body. You just have to. If you're trying to impress someone who doesn't like the way your body looks, then they can fuck off. Seriously. Love your body, take care of it, treat it right, and find someone else who loves it too.
While we're here, let's talk about body hair. You don't need to grow out your armpit hair in order to be a feminist, but you can if you want to. It's your body, do what you want! On that note, I do feel that it's pretty strange that women are expected to be hairless from the nose down, and yet no one bats an eye at a dude with a hairy gorilla ass. What is up America.
Also, I've been told that you can't be a true feminist if you call other females things like "bitch" and "slut". I don't get this, because if my best friend is being a bitch or a slut, you're damn right I'm going to call her out on it.
/end rant.
Friday, August 1, 2014
Friday, June 20, 2014
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
living slow
I am learning how to cook dinner for one person again.
Sometimes when I am cooking I get really sad, and that empty feeling creeps inside my chest. It has become very, very real that you are no longer with me.
I want to call you and tell you how much I miss your companionship. I don't miss the problems we had, but I sure do miss laughing with you. You were my best friend, you really were.
My roommates (who are very sweet) took me on a little tour of San Luis Obispo yesterday. We explored Pirate's Cove (a nudist beach), watched the sun set over Avila, and took a little tour of the Madonna Inn (a famous hotel in the area with really gaudy, themed rooms). I am excited for all of the new adventures I'm going to have in my new home.
I'm really good at being alone, and I feel like I have already grown. But I also really enjoy being in a relationship. I'm in that weird space where I miss certain parts of being in one but I am nowhere near being ready to start another one.
I have a lot to learn. I started journaling again, and picked up my guitar. The weather here is cloudy and cold, and this morning I went to the beach with the kid I nanny for. I really am so lucky to be here.
Sometimes when I am cooking I get really sad, and that empty feeling creeps inside my chest. It has become very, very real that you are no longer with me.
I want to call you and tell you how much I miss your companionship. I don't miss the problems we had, but I sure do miss laughing with you. You were my best friend, you really were.
My roommates (who are very sweet) took me on a little tour of San Luis Obispo yesterday. We explored Pirate's Cove (a nudist beach), watched the sun set over Avila, and took a little tour of the Madonna Inn (a famous hotel in the area with really gaudy, themed rooms). I am excited for all of the new adventures I'm going to have in my new home.
I'm really good at being alone, and I feel like I have already grown. But I also really enjoy being in a relationship. I'm in that weird space where I miss certain parts of being in one but I am nowhere near being ready to start another one.
I have a lot to learn. I started journaling again, and picked up my guitar. The weather here is cloudy and cold, and this morning I went to the beach with the kid I nanny for. I really am so lucky to be here.
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Severance.
I loved you with every cell in my body.
There were nights when I felt that I would cease to exist without you; that if anything were to ever happen to you I would fall apart into a million pieces.
I forgot who I was without you. I could no longer find the place where one of us began and the other ended. Every night I thanked the universe for bringing us together. I felt so lucky to have found my soul mate; the one that I would grow old with and share the rest of my life with.
And then, out of the blue, you told me it would be best if we separated. I panicked. I cried. I begged for you to change your mind. Nothing worked. You had made up your mind months ago.
That was over three weeks ago. Here I am, typing in the living room of my grandmother's house, one of the many places I have temporarily called home. I've lived out of my suitcase, sleeping on couches and in spare bedrooms.
During the first week I drove down to the Central Coast to visit my best friend. I bought a journal, went for long runs on the beach, and spent time with people who really love me. I cried a lot; I felt miserable on some nights. Incomplete. Fighting the urge to pick up the phone and beg you to take me back.
Then, slowly, the fog lifted. I got angry. I felt empowered. I found a new job and a new home in the ocean town I fell in love with, nearly 300 miles away from you. I leave on Saturday to start that new life.
I've been doing so well. I saw a therapist. I've been spending more time with family. I've reconnected with old friends. I feel really, really confident that this is going to be good for me. I started realizing things that I was blind to when we were together. I'm ambitious. I'm ready for adventure. I finally realize my self-worth. I'm ready for the best year of my life.
There were nights when I felt that I would cease to exist without you; that if anything were to ever happen to you I would fall apart into a million pieces.
I forgot who I was without you. I could no longer find the place where one of us began and the other ended. Every night I thanked the universe for bringing us together. I felt so lucky to have found my soul mate; the one that I would grow old with and share the rest of my life with.
And then, out of the blue, you told me it would be best if we separated. I panicked. I cried. I begged for you to change your mind. Nothing worked. You had made up your mind months ago.
That was over three weeks ago. Here I am, typing in the living room of my grandmother's house, one of the many places I have temporarily called home. I've lived out of my suitcase, sleeping on couches and in spare bedrooms.
During the first week I drove down to the Central Coast to visit my best friend. I bought a journal, went for long runs on the beach, and spent time with people who really love me. I cried a lot; I felt miserable on some nights. Incomplete. Fighting the urge to pick up the phone and beg you to take me back.
Then, slowly, the fog lifted. I got angry. I felt empowered. I found a new job and a new home in the ocean town I fell in love with, nearly 300 miles away from you. I leave on Saturday to start that new life.
I've been doing so well. I saw a therapist. I've been spending more time with family. I've reconnected with old friends. I feel really, really confident that this is going to be good for me. I started realizing things that I was blind to when we were together. I'm ambitious. I'm ready for adventure. I finally realize my self-worth. I'm ready for the best year of my life.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Two Years Later
I have utterly neglected you, blog. I took some time off of my creative endeavors to work on my health. I've been eating healthier than ever before, going to the gym on a regular basis and doing Insanity workouts with my sister (and trust me, they don't call it Inanity for nothing!). In the past five weeks I have lost five pounds- a slow and steady start! The most important thing is that I feel great- I wake up energized every morning and just generally feel fantastic.
Besides that, I have been doing a lot of reflecting on my well-being. Next month will be the two year anniversary of my mother's passing, and lately I have been thinking a lot about what me, two years into grieving, would tell myself on the day I found out about her death.
I think about my own journey through the healing process- and yes, it most definitely is a journey. I think of all the little details- the initial shock upon receiving her suicide letter (sent via e-mail from Mexico), the frantic hours spent trying to get a hold of ANYONE that could tell us she was still alive, the disbelief and numbness that followed after learning she had passed.
Then came anger. I cried, at screamed at her. I was so damn ANGRY that she left us. I was so disappointed and so resentful that I could hardly feel sadness. I didn't want to hear stories about the "good times". It made it too hard- I was too mad to think about her in a loving, affectionate way. I just wanted to hate her.
Even after her memorial service, it still didn't hit me that she was gone. It never really does until the family traditions carry on without them. When you look for their face at the dinner table and they're no longer there. When you walk into her room at night to say goodbye and it's empty. When you help your grandmother go through her belongings and decide which ones to donate. When you go through her jewelry with your sister and decide to leave it in the box; to come back to it later when it doesn't hurt so much. When you're home alone at night and you decide to look through your old baby albums and when you see how happy she was as a young mother you think, what a waste. What a waste of a beautiful smile. What happened, Mom?
What would my two-years-later self tell me in this moment of complete, bottomless sadness? Well, today I can look at her photos without sobbing- of course I shed a few tears when I dwell on her beauty and magnetism, and her infectious laughter. Of course my heart sinks a little when I think about having children someday that will never meet her. But, when you lose someone, a part of you becomes determined to carry on the good pieces of that person. I try to focus on what made her such an incredible person- the way she opened her heart to literally anyone- the way she could make a fool of herself in public and not give a rat's ass. The way she never took herself too seriously or discouraged anyone from being whatever they wanted to be. My children may never get to meet her physically, but they will know the parts about her that I loved.
My two-years-later self would also tell me about all the amazing strength and virtue I would gain from surviving such a tragedy. I read a quote from Ernest Hemingway the other day that really nailed it on the head: "The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable: they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed." Just to clarify, I am in no way "destroyed" by what I have gone through, partially because I wouldn't let myself and partially because of the amazing support system of friends and family I have. Somehow, loss just makes you live deeper. When you've gone through such a tragedy you often feel like nothing else in the world could hurt any worse- it's almost like you have nothing left to lose. I see the world through wider eyes now: I see and appreciate more beauty, but at the same time I acknowledge the darker, more evil parts of life, perhaps to better understand why she made the choice to leave. I have gained enormous strength through this experience, as well as the desire to reach out to others who have gone through tragedies. I laugh more deeply because I appreciate my happiness. I work harder because I value my own success even more, and especially the fact that I can be successful despite being "wounded". I have something that most people don't- I have survived loss, and I mourned gracefully. I may not be the prettiest girl in the room, or the one with the best wardrobe or the most successful job, but what I do have is the strength to withstand anything in life. I have this experience deeply rooted in my entire being and I have come too far to let any person or circumstance EVER bring me down.
Yes, there are days when I miss her so much it makes me stomach hurt. Yes, there are days when I still can't accept the fact that she is gone. The fact that she left is out of my control, but the way I mourn, heal, and make the best out of my situation is. I have learned the value of keeping a positive mindset. I acknowledge that some days are going to be bad days- Mother's Day, her birthday, the anniversary of her passing- but I have to get back up on my feet and keep moving. Of course, there is nothing I wouldn't give to have her back, but I have to be thankful for what I have gained.
My advice to anyone who is going through any kind of loss is to keep seeking out the good things, no matter how small. Even when everything around you is falling to pieces, think of the hug your best friend gave you, or the letter you received from an old friend of your loved one. Realize that people everywhere are thinking about you and caring about you, even if they are too afraid to reach out.
If you are reading this and have questions about loss or the grieving process, please contact me. I am not a professional in any way but I hope that I can provide some comfort in your time of need.
Sending out love to each and every one of you.
Besides that, I have been doing a lot of reflecting on my well-being. Next month will be the two year anniversary of my mother's passing, and lately I have been thinking a lot about what me, two years into grieving, would tell myself on the day I found out about her death.
I think about my own journey through the healing process- and yes, it most definitely is a journey. I think of all the little details- the initial shock upon receiving her suicide letter (sent via e-mail from Mexico), the frantic hours spent trying to get a hold of ANYONE that could tell us she was still alive, the disbelief and numbness that followed after learning she had passed.
Then came anger. I cried, at screamed at her. I was so damn ANGRY that she left us. I was so disappointed and so resentful that I could hardly feel sadness. I didn't want to hear stories about the "good times". It made it too hard- I was too mad to think about her in a loving, affectionate way. I just wanted to hate her.
Even after her memorial service, it still didn't hit me that she was gone. It never really does until the family traditions carry on without them. When you look for their face at the dinner table and they're no longer there. When you walk into her room at night to say goodbye and it's empty. When you help your grandmother go through her belongings and decide which ones to donate. When you go through her jewelry with your sister and decide to leave it in the box; to come back to it later when it doesn't hurt so much. When you're home alone at night and you decide to look through your old baby albums and when you see how happy she was as a young mother you think, what a waste. What a waste of a beautiful smile. What happened, Mom?
What would my two-years-later self tell me in this moment of complete, bottomless sadness? Well, today I can look at her photos without sobbing- of course I shed a few tears when I dwell on her beauty and magnetism, and her infectious laughter. Of course my heart sinks a little when I think about having children someday that will never meet her. But, when you lose someone, a part of you becomes determined to carry on the good pieces of that person. I try to focus on what made her such an incredible person- the way she opened her heart to literally anyone- the way she could make a fool of herself in public and not give a rat's ass. The way she never took herself too seriously or discouraged anyone from being whatever they wanted to be. My children may never get to meet her physically, but they will know the parts about her that I loved.
My two-years-later self would also tell me about all the amazing strength and virtue I would gain from surviving such a tragedy. I read a quote from Ernest Hemingway the other day that really nailed it on the head: "The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable: they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed." Just to clarify, I am in no way "destroyed" by what I have gone through, partially because I wouldn't let myself and partially because of the amazing support system of friends and family I have. Somehow, loss just makes you live deeper. When you've gone through such a tragedy you often feel like nothing else in the world could hurt any worse- it's almost like you have nothing left to lose. I see the world through wider eyes now: I see and appreciate more beauty, but at the same time I acknowledge the darker, more evil parts of life, perhaps to better understand why she made the choice to leave. I have gained enormous strength through this experience, as well as the desire to reach out to others who have gone through tragedies. I laugh more deeply because I appreciate my happiness. I work harder because I value my own success even more, and especially the fact that I can be successful despite being "wounded". I have something that most people don't- I have survived loss, and I mourned gracefully. I may not be the prettiest girl in the room, or the one with the best wardrobe or the most successful job, but what I do have is the strength to withstand anything in life. I have this experience deeply rooted in my entire being and I have come too far to let any person or circumstance EVER bring me down.
Yes, there are days when I miss her so much it makes me stomach hurt. Yes, there are days when I still can't accept the fact that she is gone. The fact that she left is out of my control, but the way I mourn, heal, and make the best out of my situation is. I have learned the value of keeping a positive mindset. I acknowledge that some days are going to be bad days- Mother's Day, her birthday, the anniversary of her passing- but I have to get back up on my feet and keep moving. Of course, there is nothing I wouldn't give to have her back, but I have to be thankful for what I have gained.
My advice to anyone who is going through any kind of loss is to keep seeking out the good things, no matter how small. Even when everything around you is falling to pieces, think of the hug your best friend gave you, or the letter you received from an old friend of your loved one. Realize that people everywhere are thinking about you and caring about you, even if they are too afraid to reach out.
If you are reading this and have questions about loss or the grieving process, please contact me. I am not a professional in any way but I hope that I can provide some comfort in your time of need.
Sending out love to each and every one of you.
Friday, September 7, 2012
In the Background
So, on Tuesday I finally started my full-time "big girl job" working as an aide for a 7-year-old with Autism Spectrum Disorder in her first grade classroom. So far I'm really enjoying it, and I love that I am working in a classroom again. It's like going back to elementary school all over again. I can't wait for field trips!!!
The only downside is that I have been SO. BUSY. I leave my house at 7:15am and I'm usually not home until after 6:00, since I often tutor my kiddo in her home after school. Working these long days make me too tired to hit the gym after work, which does not make my body happy. And since Blake wakes up at 4:30am for work every morning, he's usually in bed by 9:00- which means we see each other for about 3 hours a day. I'm hoping that, after the mortgage and bills are paid, I'll be able to afford to take us to Santa Cruz for a weekend once I get my first "big girl paycheck".
The worst part about being so busy is the lack of "me" time we all need to badly. Recent events have encouraged a lot of self-reflection lately. I've been thinking about my mom a lot, too.
I've been through a lot in the past year-and-a-half. Losing someone close to you, especially in the way we lost her- so abruptly- with so many unanswered questions- is an experience that batters your mind, body and soul. I was looking in the mirror the other day and couldn't believe how much I've aged in the past year. The dark circles under my eyes that were never there before. But also the laugh lines, and the crows feet that are slowly making their prints next to my squinting eyes from nights staying up too late and trying to laugh it all away.
A few weeks ago, the radio show that we used to listen to together on morning drives to school finally retired after 25 years of being on the air. It was a morning routine I carried on throughout college and beyond- they were always there for me during my morning commute. I sat in my car, waiting to clock on for work, listening to the hosts say their tearful goodbyes, listing every person and every moment they were grateful for. I tried so hard to hold back my tears as I experienced the end of something that has been with me since childhood. It was all too familiar.
I can't even explain how badly I wished I could have just called her on the phone to talk to her about it; to get a good cry out; to confront our fleeting lives and reflect on how fast time goes by. It's something we kind of bury in the background until things like this happen- something we know is there but are afraid to acknowledge. And I hate being reminded of it. I hate thinking about my own mortality.
When she passed, I had to accept the fact that she wouldn't be there for major moments in my life- she wasn't there at my graduation; she won't be at my wedding or see my first child be born. What I didn't realize is that she wouldn't be there for the small things- the last Mark and Brian radio show, when my best friend got engaged, when I decided to move in with my boyfriend. And no, I don't ever "feel her presence", to be honest. Maybe I don't believe in it, maybe it's because she chose to go. Perhaps I will someday. One can never tell.
Death forces you to see the world differently- any kind of tragedy does, really. Once you know what it's like to have your heart completely ripped out of your chest you start losing fear of everything else. What else could hurt you more than losing someone that close to you? It makes you humble; it makes you more compassionate. It makes you wake up ten minutes earlier just to enjoy the quiet morning hours. It makes you live slowly.
So, this wasn't my normal "happy" post- I guess I had a lot I needed to get out. Have a nice, slow weekend my friends.
The only downside is that I have been SO. BUSY. I leave my house at 7:15am and I'm usually not home until after 6:00, since I often tutor my kiddo in her home after school. Working these long days make me too tired to hit the gym after work, which does not make my body happy. And since Blake wakes up at 4:30am for work every morning, he's usually in bed by 9:00- which means we see each other for about 3 hours a day. I'm hoping that, after the mortgage and bills are paid, I'll be able to afford to take us to Santa Cruz for a weekend once I get my first "big girl paycheck".
The worst part about being so busy is the lack of "me" time we all need to badly. Recent events have encouraged a lot of self-reflection lately. I've been thinking about my mom a lot, too.
I've been through a lot in the past year-and-a-half. Losing someone close to you, especially in the way we lost her- so abruptly- with so many unanswered questions- is an experience that batters your mind, body and soul. I was looking in the mirror the other day and couldn't believe how much I've aged in the past year. The dark circles under my eyes that were never there before. But also the laugh lines, and the crows feet that are slowly making their prints next to my squinting eyes from nights staying up too late and trying to laugh it all away.
A few weeks ago, the radio show that we used to listen to together on morning drives to school finally retired after 25 years of being on the air. It was a morning routine I carried on throughout college and beyond- they were always there for me during my morning commute. I sat in my car, waiting to clock on for work, listening to the hosts say their tearful goodbyes, listing every person and every moment they were grateful for. I tried so hard to hold back my tears as I experienced the end of something that has been with me since childhood. It was all too familiar.
I can't even explain how badly I wished I could have just called her on the phone to talk to her about it; to get a good cry out; to confront our fleeting lives and reflect on how fast time goes by. It's something we kind of bury in the background until things like this happen- something we know is there but are afraid to acknowledge. And I hate being reminded of it. I hate thinking about my own mortality.
When she passed, I had to accept the fact that she wouldn't be there for major moments in my life- she wasn't there at my graduation; she won't be at my wedding or see my first child be born. What I didn't realize is that she wouldn't be there for the small things- the last Mark and Brian radio show, when my best friend got engaged, when I decided to move in with my boyfriend. And no, I don't ever "feel her presence", to be honest. Maybe I don't believe in it, maybe it's because she chose to go. Perhaps I will someday. One can never tell.
Death forces you to see the world differently- any kind of tragedy does, really. Once you know what it's like to have your heart completely ripped out of your chest you start losing fear of everything else. What else could hurt you more than losing someone that close to you? It makes you humble; it makes you more compassionate. It makes you wake up ten minutes earlier just to enjoy the quiet morning hours. It makes you live slowly.
So, this wasn't my normal "happy" post- I guess I had a lot I needed to get out. Have a nice, slow weekend my friends.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Turn "this" into "THIS!!!"
First thing's first, here is last night's dinner:
We decided to use quinoa instead of brown rice, but it still turned out delish. The marinade for the fish (the link to the recipe is on my previous post) was super tasty too. (I added a few drops of honey and a splash of orange juice to tone down the bitterness of the vinegar.) To the quinoa I added some pepper, garlic powder, and a squeeze of lemon to spice it up a bit. Healthy and yummy!
I would also like to share with you the amazing lunch I had today. I'm fully aware that it is still well over 90 degrees outside, but today my boyfriend came home after work and said, "This is really weird, but I'm craving soup." Chicken and dumplings soup, to be exact. I think, okay, I only have two hours before I have to leave for work... sounds like a challenge... and I accept! (Just so you all know, I am the self-proclaimed master of doctoring up convenience foods and making them healthy and flavorful.) In our pantry we find two cans of Progresso chicken and wild rice soup, and a packet of this:
Marie Calender's cheese biscuit mix. Using these two ingredients, plus some fresh veggies and spices, we made the most delicious chicken and dumplings soup I have ever had.
My mouth is still watering. And yes, I will share the secret recipe with you to the best of my ability (the flaw to my cooking is that I never, ever measure anything).
In addition to these two ingredients you will need:
And here's what you do:
I would also like to share with you the amazing lunch I had today. I'm fully aware that it is still well over 90 degrees outside, but today my boyfriend came home after work and said, "This is really weird, but I'm craving soup." Chicken and dumplings soup, to be exact. I think, okay, I only have two hours before I have to leave for work... sounds like a challenge... and I accept! (Just so you all know, I am the self-proclaimed master of doctoring up convenience foods and making them healthy and flavorful.) In our pantry we find two cans of Progresso chicken and wild rice soup, and a packet of this:
Marie Calender's cheese biscuit mix. Using these two ingredients, plus some fresh veggies and spices, we made the most delicious chicken and dumplings soup I have ever had.
In addition to these two ingredients you will need:
- About a cup of chopped onion (white or yellow)
- Two garlic cloves, minced
- About 1/4 cup of olive oil (or vegetable oil)
- About 2 cups of cubed potatoes (we used baby red potatoes since we had them in the fridge)
- About a cup of chopped carrots (we had a bag of "matchstick" style carrots)
- One zucchini, chopped
- Juice of 1/2 a large lemon
- Any spices you prefer- we like spicy to we added chili powder and cayenne pepper along with black pepper, garlic powder, and a little cumin (we're trying really hard to cut down on salt, but I'm sure this would be like 10X more delicious if you added salt).
- A few cups of water
- Milk and oil/butter to add to the biscuit mix.
- Heat oil in a large soup pot. Add onion, garlic, potatoes, and carrots. Cook until potatoes and carrots are tender.
- Add zucchini, cook until opaque.
- Add spices, lemon juice, and enough water to cover all ingredients. Cover and let simmer. Once all vegetables are cooked through, add two cans of soup, cover and return to simmer.
- Prepare biscuit mix according to directions on package.
- Allow soup to come to a boil, then drop 1" balls of biscuit batter into soup. Cover and return to boil for about 12 minutes. You can check if "dumplings" are done by removing one from the soup and cutting it in half.
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