faith faker

pin pic

welp. I joined the pinterest. So embarrassing because i'm such a brat. I've been harassing my roommates all semester about this website. It's a complete time suck. [also a big bucket of fake life. Seriously, no ones house has that many windows to take great pictures of all this perfect DIY crap you make. And shut the hell up with the running inspiration pins.  those abs are air brushed. get real! Also i'm way over re using old tshirts now that i'm on it. I've seen one too many infinity scarves gone awry.]

but that's not what this post is about.

this is a scary, deep, dark secret kind of post. [as deep and as dark as I get on the internet. draw your own conclusions.]

i'm really ashamed that, sometimes, I feel like a total phony in the following Jesus department. 

real life ejemplo: my assignment for tomorrow's Spanish 302 class is to create a presentation about sharing my faith with someone from a Spanish speaking culture. I anchor my life on this stuff, and my Spanish isn't bad. This shouldn't be hard.

so wrong.

I hemmed, I hawed. I googled, I youtubed. [i took a "break" on pinterest too, damnit.] I wasn't coming up with anything. The idea of summing up the gospel in a 3-4 minute presentation seemed near impossible, and not because I had a lot of deep, theological things to say; but because I had nothing to say. I didn't know where to start.


Woah. Woah. pump the brakes.

I'm a senior at a Christian college who claims she's trying to follow this Jesus guy with everything she's got. Seems like I turned the GPS off or something, I can't give good directions. Am I supposed to hammer my audience with Bible verses? Do I bring a tract? Do I cry? Do I laugh? Do I bribe them!? [this is nothing like a GPS. all i want to hear is bear left- and the Brittish setting on the Garmin.]


I've had the faith conversation a million times with most of my close friends. Everyone knows where I stand, and each of them know that this big, powerful, loving God loves them too. I've been forthcoming with anyone in crisis that my go to solution to any problem is earnest prayer. I couldn't do this assignment because it felt forced, fake and phony. I didn't know who I was talking to, I didn't know what they were experiencing in their life at that moment. I tell my good friends "don't freak out, i'm just going to pray for you before you get out of the car." [true life: i'm creepy] I don't even know if this this weird presentation world has cars!? 

I just don't jump into, Jesus talk,  or bed with strangers. 

Eventually, I did figure it out. I created a windows media player presentation around the idea that Everyone Worships Something. And talked about John 1:14 and Romans 8:2. And even though i feel theologically and bilingually sound on this project, I can't shake the feeling that there's something not right about it.





I'm ashamed.

I'm ashamed that I can't condense the most important thing in my life well enough to articulate it in front of a class.


I'm ashamed that every youtube video I watched for "evangelism" "Spanish evangelism" or "creative evangelism" was total crap. Not just poorly made, but all together bad... condemning, arrogant and unintelligent.

I'm ashamed that Christians get such a bad rap about being judgmental in their attempts at proselytizing.

No Shame November is the brainchild of the fabulous Kathleen Leahy [find her here].

"have you ever seen an idealist with gray hairs on his head?"

-Pedro the Lion

fresh outta the great white north and I guess I'm ready to embark on a post I've been nervous about...

sometimes. I'm ashamed to be an American. 

Please don't freak out. Please don't think I'm a communist. Please don't think I don't value "freedom". Please, please- don't think this is all i could say about this subject [i'm not trying to be weird and political, or naive and idealisitc. just real.]

Sometimes, like just after taking a peak at our near-by neighbor Canada, I realize that there's a big world out there; and I live in only a small part of it. It's kind of embarrassing to admit, but I think.... for a while there, I didn't realize there was so much more out in the world apart from the US. It was really easy to get wrapped up in the all consuming culture that is everything Amurican.


Before I go any further, I realize everyone gets to this point. It might not be with consumerism, but some other constant in your life... family, religion, culture, et al. We get so stuck in what we've been doing that we can't see what we are doing[to ourselves].  For me, it's this weird-o, American consumerist mentality that really has me beginning to examine what I'm doing.

This isn't the first time I've questioned materialism, and it won't be the last, but there was something about my Toronto visit that brought it all up again. There were smaller scale stores for everything. Stores that only sold one thing. Stores that only sold certain types of things. Stores that looked worlds away from Target and Walmart. Shopping seemed less of an event and more like something to check off your to-do list. I like that.  A little less oohing and aahing and the junk on the end cap at Target and more thinking of where to buy things closest to your house. This specialized shopping made consuming more a  task to accomplish than a form of entertainment.

Another little Canadian weirdity is that they don't really do credit cards like we do in the states. According to  my friend Julianne, wise sage that she is, they deal pretty much exclusively in prepaid debit cards and cash. You mean the society doesn't run on debt? That means you have to cash a pay check and buy things with real money? Weirdest thing ever [Canadian money is also  purple and holographic and totally ke$ha-tastic].

This might sound silly, but it felt a little like  Ecuador. The smaller shops, the personal vendors. It made me miss the developing world [what the crap does that mean?] and places that dealt only in cash. Maybe I'm misreading this one neighborhood of Toronto that I stayed in... but I can't help but thinking it was a bit simpler. It was a bit nicer. It wasn't so damn easy to get into debt.

So draw your own conclusions, but it's just what I've been thinking about lately. I don't know who sells me my groceries, and I don't have a clue where I'd buy craft supplies if I couldn't run to Michael's [ i wish i knew Michael personally.] Would I buy as much stuff if it wasn't offered? If the $10 purses weren't so accessible, and I had to buy a bag from a second hand store [baby girl is on a budget] or a clothing store that's a little more expensive; would I own over a dozen bags? [for shame]. Probably not. 

... & it's that that makes me ashamed.

I'm ashamed that stuff has taken over my life
I'm ashamed that i'm completely divorced from where my stuff comes from.
I'm ashamed that I'm so in awe of a place that pays for things out right.
I'm ashamed that even though I try to fight it, I am it.
I'm ashamed I was made in america.







[listen to Pedro the Lion's  song- Penetration]





No Shame November is the brainchild of the fabulous Kathleen Leahy [find her here].

Oh Canada

No Shame November goes international! Im writing today from the living room rocking chair of my dear friend, Julianne.

Heres the long and the short of it: Canada is wonderful, it just takes a while to get here. Heres where the shameful part comes in...

While making thanksgiving dinner my friends and i ate an ENTIRE bag of ketchup chips. Delicious, but fatty fiesta.

It just seems a little nasty that we gobbled [totally not discontinuing use of that word until Christmas] down a whole bag of chips while we made dinner [first world problems.] it also took us seven hours to cook dinner and just about an hour to eat it. Weird , but worth it.

Its just another American culture thing i've been thinking through lately. More on the weirdness of the western world later.

For now, im thankful that my friendsgiving Thanksgiving was ballin'- shout out to our midwestern ( and coloradoan) mamas for teaching us to cook well :)

Gobble back ya'll.

proper Canadian American Thanksgiving  appetizer [trashy.]

"let's dress up in pilgrims hats!" or rather, "they drove me to drink."

my life on repeat.

1 part friend inspiration 
+ 1/2 part No Shame November
 + making play lists for my Thanksgiving road trip
= my life on repeat


Inspired by my friend, Anna Gesch over at Life.Annamated. [is that weird that I just did that, bloggy reference thing?] i'm about to share some of what i've been listening to lately.Her playlists weren't supposed to be shameful, but they certainly were [ I won't be including any of that You Make My Dreams Come True by Hall & Oats bullshit] Mine are a bit shameful. [It's pretty embarasing when you're roomates ask what youre listening to, and you give them the same answer all semester.]

Also a touch embarrassed that I could produce most of the lyric snippets from memory. I'm all about the music i love because of the words. all about it.

So basically, I really like Josh Garrels and twangy folksy music. This list is fall-tastic, just push play.


Fall 2011

Mumford & Sons- Roll Away Your Stone

     " It seems that all my bridges have been burned

      But you say, "That's exactly how this grace thing works"

     It's not the long walk home that will change this heart
     But the welcome I receive with every start"

Bright Eyes- Cleanse Song
     "Hear the chimes, did you know that the wind when it blows
      It is older than Rome and all of this sorrow"

The Avett Brotthers- Spanish Pipedream
    "Blow up your T.V., throw away your paper
     Move to the country, build you a home
     Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches
    Try to find Jesus on your own"

Good Old War- Coney Island

     "Well I go crawling back to the city I love
      Because its already taken everything"

Josh Garrels- Zion & Babylon

            "Say, my name ain’t yours and yours is not mine
                Mine is the Lord, and yours is my child, that’s how it’s always been.
                  Time to make a change, leave your home.

                 Give to the poor all that you own. Lose your life, so that you could find it”

Josh Garrels- Beyond the Blue

            “Sometimes the only way to return is to go, 
                Where the winds will take you
                And to let go, of all, you cannot hold onto
                For the hope, beyond,the blue”

Josh Garrels- Ulysses
            “So tie me to the mast of this old ship and point me home
                Before I lose the one I love, before my chance is gone
                I want to hold, her in, my arms”

Josh Garrels- Bread and Wine

            “so give it just a little time.
                share some bread and drink some wine.
                weave your heart your into mine.”

Josh Garrels- Farther Along
            “There’s so much more to life than we’ve been told
            …That the Son of God is forever blessed
                His is the kingdom, we're the guests.”

Amos Lee- Night Train

          ““I’ve been working on a night train,
                drinking coffee, taking cocaine.”

Van Morrison- Into the Mystic

          “and when that fog horn blows know that I’ll be coming home.
                and when that fog horn blows I want to hear it.
                and don’t have to fear it.

                yeah, I want to rock your gypsy soul.”

(even though it’s trashy, this will probably be the first dance at my wedding.)

Paperwork- Your Old Coat

          “this is all that I have left.
                your old coat and your old desk.”

The Avett Brothers- The Weight of Lies

          “When you run make sure you run to something, and not away from 

                because lies don’t need an aeroplane to chase you anywhere.”

Old Crow Medicine Show- Wagon Wheel

          “so rock me mama like a wagon wheel,

                Rock me mama anyway you feel.
                heeeey mama rock me.”

In other news, its almost Thanksgiving [which I'm celebrating with some of my best friends- IN CANADA.] Gobble back ya'll.

the future freaks me out.

“The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” ― Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Seeker's ABC

As always, its about to real here for No Shame November. I'm scared to tears some days about the future, about graduation and my possible utter destitution.

You may think I have my shit together, you have never been more wrong. I have these crazy embarrassing moments where I can think of nothing else but what my life will look like after graduation. Each day my personal predictions get bleaker and bleaker. Last week, I was almost in tears envisioning my self living in some small apartment alone, smelling like cats and Elizabeth Taylor's White Diamonds perfume. [that's right, I hate cats and I would never wear White Diamonds.] What I'm trying to get at is how irrational my fears have become. As much as I tell myself these fears are irrational I can't help but read the newspaper articles hanging crepe about the 46% poverty rate among Americans under 24. What the news says must be true, I'm screwed.


...but the poverty situation is only a part of it. Of course I fear homelessness and a diet of expired canned goods, but I'm also having some really shameful fears that I that I don't know what I want to do with my life. Social Work is certainly my calling, I'm well aware of that. It's just that, having the degree doesn't narrow it down. Social Workers do a lot of things, most of which they do after they have their Master's degrees and have an inkling about what their passionate about.

You know its bad when its easier to narrow down what you don't want to do over what you do want. I don't want to work with kids [I ran an inner city summer camp and worked at an  Ecuadorian orphanage, have i paid my dues?] and I don't want to do anything remotely medical [i have paid zero dues to medical field outside of regular immunizations.] Crap. That leaves with me a whole wide world of things to do, be and see. There's women, there's single women, there's mothers, fathers, grandparents [or geriatrics in general], there's immigrants, there's domestic violence, veterans... i'm only getting started. There is a boat load of worthy fields I could try to get into. I just don't know what's me. [insert diatribe of "who am i?"]

I want what Fredrick Buechner is describing. I want find the intersection of need and personal happiness [and pay my bills!]. I just kind of want to grow up?

I'm ashamed that I've invested my time and my parents' money into a degree I'm in love with but unsure how to use.

I'm ashamed that I don't have a life consuming passion like everyone else does. [seriously. puppies, orphans, cancer research, journalism. my peer group pretty much has the market cornered on passions and goals.]

I'm ashamed that I'm broke as a joke, and without a job everyday feels like I'm only waiting for the other shoe to drop.


I'm ashamed that I'm scared. That I don't trust God like I say I do.

... maybe that's what it all comes down to. I'm ashamed that I'm not content to say "I don't know", I serve a big, big God who certainly knows the ins and outs of my gifts and talents. If I trust and follow, he'll make a way- I know it. [don't ask me how... that mystery of faith thing so me.]


soundtrack of my life.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=87-118ordA4

No Shame November is the brainchild of the fabulous Kathleen Leahy [find her here].

stop now, wait a minute... lemme put some LB in it.

I'm ashamed at how impatient I am. Seriously, it's sick.

I can't wait for anything. Not in line, not in traffic, dear God not for the internet to connect and most of all... when it involves the waiting game.

Yes, you've played it. The game. When you like someone and they like you back and there's flirting, and eye lash fluttering, all that garbage... and texting [love/hate relationship].

I carry a lot of shame about being unable to hide my feelings and being completely unable to wait for anything. Most notably with guys. Shout out to the poor souls who have dated me [what were you thinking!?] but it seems that when I'm into someone I fall faster than your grandma after a glass of wine.

and that's embarrassing.

I have no game, zero skill and a serious thing for guys that aren't into me. Apparently, normal people text back and forth and play foots-y with each other... months later they go on a date and somewhere in the distant future they decide to own up to the crap everyone else has been observing for six months. Come on people. That means I'm going months without the validation of this being official [no weird-o, not facebook official]. That means I can't just call you to talk, hang out with you in my sweat pants, or ask you to run errands with me. In short, during those initial months I still have to impress you. That means doing my hair, wearing my contacts and laughing at your jokes on  regular basis. [seriously too much pressure, but I usually dig funny guys.]

No Shame November gets personal once again, I'm not the least bit ashamed that I think I'm awesome [you're awesome too, go figure out why], but I won't be caught dead asking a guy out. ever. So because I am SO IMPATIENT. I always ruin it. I drop too many not-so [not even close] subtle hints and then it's out the window- homeboy things I'm crazy and obsessed. Crap. I promise I'm normal...


Don't get me wrong. I'm not advocating that everyone jumps into a relationship after a week of getting to know someone... BUT. I am advocating that people take a risk, dare to say that you like him and see what happens. A few dates isn't a marriage proposal [it's usually only dinner] gentlemen, so just try it. Suffice it to say, cut the cutesy social networking, texting, obsessing-over-every-word-weirdness, and be real with each other. 

the fact remains, I'm ashamed.

I'm ashamed that I have the patience of first grader in line for the bathroom.

I'm ashamed that I sometimes spoil a good thing by playing my cards too soon.

I'm ashamed that I'm socially inept [seriously how do i have friends?]

I'm ashamed that I wear my heart on my sleeve and cannot keep things to myself. I will perpetually be a 16 year old girl.


...I'll tell you what. I'm not ashamed that I'm honest, I'm up front, and you'll always know where you stand with me. I'm not complicated. I'm not into the games, I want people to be real with me and themselves.... yes, and ask me on a date. : )










No Shame November is the brainchild of the fabulous Kathleen Leahy [find her here].

"i'm in love alright...

with my crazy beautiful life."

Ke$ha said it best my friends. No shame here, just walked in from celebrating the 21st birthday of one of Tinley Park's finest. Who says Mondays are for homework? Not this girl.

I've got some really great friends that have been causing mass hysteria in the south suburbs for some time. I'm not trading that for the world. Not for my philosophy paper, not for my Spanish project and certainly not for the arduous article I need to read for social work tomorrow.

you are who you hang with.

I've been posting about things I'm ashamed of, but tonight's different. I saw the looks I got as I sauntered in smelling like booze and cigarettes. I smell like a bar because I was at one.

It's ok. I had one drink and was totally cool to drive home. No shame there.
[it's possible. and a lot of fun. so save all that judgin' drama for your mama, Alumni Hall.]

On the long finger

Alright No Shame November, sorry about my resbit yesterday. It was a busy and long day, with a hilariously complicated timeline [miniature vans were trapped like the cheese in my drunk kitchen]. No time for that now, take me out for coffee... i'll tell ya all about it.

So i'm ashamed at my completely horrible time management skills. Things that sensible and decent people would devote a few hours to maybe earn a 30 minute time slot in my faux busy day.

real life example #1 Friday, my first class is at 11am [i wish college was real life.] I got up hella early [9:00am] to do my Spanish homework, then the roommates came home and we NEEDED to watch you tube videos for 30 minutes. [One never needs to watch youtube videos, especially for the better part of a half hour.] After our time of mindless giggles, it was 10:47 [11:00 class, people!?] and I was still snuggled up in my bathrobe [class act.] Obviously i'm not going to get it together in time, so we decide to go out for breakfast. I mean, worse decisions have been made. [moral of the story: had I not procrastinated the night before and neglected to do my Spanish homework;, I would have been ready for class by the time my roommates came home. Or, if I had an ounce of self control I would have walked away after youtube video #1 and put some freaking pants on.]

real life example #2 This afternoon my great uncle Don died. He was a great man with a heart of gold. But, after many surgeries and broken bones, he had been in a lot of pain for the last few years of his life... it's certainly better that he's left all that here and embraced heaven. Uncle Don was in the hospital all this week, and I pretty much promised to go visit him everyday [didn't even go once.] Needless to say, i feel like a shit head. [that's a technical term]. I can't prioritize things and get my crap done even to say goodbye to a man that I love and have known all my life. [moral of the story: my family is crazy, but they're mine and they keep - loving me through all the weird crap i do. Case in point, this ametuear hour- esque blog. They need to be a priority for me. Also, no one lives forever [duh.]

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. I am guilty, guilty, guilty. and I'm ashamed.

I'm ashamed that I waste time doing completely pointless garbage [obsessively reading  this book right now about Morman Polygamist Cults.]

I'm ashamed that I work myself into a tizzy [old lady phrases?] about getting things done, only to not do them.

 I'm ashamed that my selfish inability to buckle down and do homework cost me an opportunity to say goodbye to a loved one.



I'll probably take tomorrow off again.






No Shame November is the brainchild of the fabulous Kathleen Leahy [find her here].

living with a language barrier

I'm ashamed that I talk like a woman much older than myself.
one woman in particular. we share a lot of DNA and facial features, she happens to be my mother.

It's part shameful, part hilarious. Tonight it leaned heavy on the shame side.

I  work for the Trinity Christian College phonathon. Some say blessing, some say curse; I say pay check. There's the usual evening banter and exchanging of stories and laughs between co-workers; usually fun and innocent. Then there was tonight.

I broke a sacred, Christian college rule... the uninvited swear word [pick your bottom jaw off the ground- you're not shocked.]

We were telling stories.
 I imitated my mother... "Elizabeth Alice Francis... get your ass down here!" As soon as the words tumbled out of my  mouth, it was all eyes on me [yucky. awkward. gross] Someone told me that they don't swear, someone else said it might be offensive. I just said said sorry.
But really? Your parents never swore? Sorry boutcha.

So there's that. The rest of my middle aged adages aren't as offensive; just silly, and sometimes embarrassing.

Take tonight's other social snafu [aware that word's outdated].
I said I had to use the washroom.
Apparently that's passe- people say bathroom!? I'm old, out of the loop and I guess down home, Midwestern!? [I'm from Chicago... yeah, that big city, the one with a few million people. Certainly Midwestern, not quite down home.]. Also, according my good friends over at Merriam-Webster [last name basis, folks], the washroom is alive and well, and an accepted synonym for bathroom. check it out here. 

I've got phrases to describe some of life's most perplexing scenarios [small spaces, fast motions, obesity, the usual.] They make me sound out of place within my millennial generation, and generally a little goofy...

Sometimes,
I'm ashamed that i say, two cats couldn't dance here, when I mean, "wow this space is particularly small."
I'm ashamed that i say, faster than Johnny wrote the note, when I mean, "he moved at a rapid pace."
I'm ashamed that i say, all together, like Brown's cows, when I mean, "my, there is certainly a large number of people here!"
I'm ashamed that i say, as big as Mol Mason, when I mean, "incredibly large"


Mostly, I'm just ashamed that I'm not hip, I'm not accessible... at 21, I seem dated and old. [crap.] It doesn't help that someone told me I looked 24 at lunch today. [that really happened. no, i'm not actually concerned.]


No Shame November is the brainchild of the fabulous Kathleen Leahy [find her here].

Snapshot shame

Really what im rocking at my desk, its like an episode of hoarders.

Gettin' my Nic Fix

Today [about an hour ago to be exact], a friend told me I smelled like pretzels. Mind you, I don't do physical  contact, so we certainly weren't hugging - or anything remotely close to that.

I just got into her car, and she told me I smelled like pretzels.


...here' the kicker, I was kind of happy with that on the inside. While I do find that nothing quite satisfies like a Rold Gold Tiny Twist, I was just glad not to be told that I smelled like, "a hot cigarette."

here's where No Shame November comes in,
i'm really embarrassed and ashamed that I smoke.

i am well aware that it will kill me. Lung cancer took both my grandmothers from me, and smoking has begun to force my father's  soul into a much older man's body. I want that to be clear. I'm not looking for sympathy or encouragement. Only a little honesty.

In that spirit of shame-shirking honesty- I enjoy smoking. I find that it relaxes, provides convenient social pauses in my day and generally pairs well with the black coffee I guzzle down daily [obviously i'm the picture of health]. On top of the enjoyment, there's this creative and social piece that seems to only be present with a cigarette in hand. I get my best thinking done while enjoying a cigarette, hell- most of these blog topics come straight from thoughts I have during a smoke break.

And socially, it just works. Smoking brings people together. The same can be said of binge drinking, I'll let you draw your own comparisons.

Oh, and did I mention that I'm addicted? Yep, I smoke because I just can't say no to Phillip Morris and that too-damn-good of a product he's created.

so there's that.


I'm ashamed that I smoke..


I'm ashamed that I smell like a big 'ole ash try sometimes.


I'm ashamed that I sometimes ask my friends to, "wait a minute two," while I go smoke.


I'm ashamed that, sometimes, I structure my day around when I'm able to smoke.

I'm ashamed that I struggle to enjoy quality coffee or beer without a cigarette.


I'm ashamed that I'm spending just about $15 dollars a week [sometimes more] on cigarettes [for the uninitiated, that's two packs a week.]


I'm ashamed that I engage in a cultural taboo that to some, discounts my Jesus street cred.



worst. entry. ever.

former socially informed, cool gal. current iPhone owner.

i Mashamed

Wow.

So this is actually pretty embarrassing. I’m writing this from my new iphone. 

You heard that right… new iphone.

If you’ve know me for more than a hot second you realize that that last sentence was COMPLETELY LAUGHABLE. But its true... I got an iphone. Oh my gosh, this is so embarrassing.

I love to rail against big business, the empire, anything endorsed by the ‘in crowd.’ What got into me?! I broke down and I blame my mother...

It started innocently enough. The cell plan my mom and I share was due for phone upgrades, again, I stress the innocence… She had hinted at an iPhone, but I thought surely she’d scoff at the price. Well, obviously I’m a dumbass- because they were the same price or cheaper than most of the other smart phones. Eff. At that point, I knew I was doomed.

We ‘ooed’ and ‘aahhed’ at the phones long enough, all the the while my inner non conformist and staunch anti materialist was having an interal, moral struggle. Upon telling my mother about said battle she replied, “now, most kids would just be so excited their mom is buying them an iphone…” [so much is wrong grammatically and idealogically here, but I should start a Sh*tMyMomSays twitter, right?]

Long story short we bough the iPhone. Just the 4 and only 8g, both white. Complete with ridiculous, pink [white girl problems- esque] cases. This is all true, please direct all questions to Mike, employee of the Orland Park Verizon Store.

Why is the iPhone so shameful for me?

I’m ashamed that I’m a sell out. I’ve gone so far as to debate the merits of the internet, only to carry it in my pocket at all times!? I’ve also gone on record calling it “satan’s phone"

I’m ashamed that it seemed like no big deal to drop $100 on a phone

I’m ashamed at how connected this world demands I be.

I’m ashamed that I agree to, and I have jumped on, the “over- connected bus” with suprising zeal.

I’m really ashamed of that damn case.

Totally makes it worse.

No Shame November is the brainchild of the fabulous Kathleen Leahy [find her here].

the other 'f word' in my life.

*I’m going to use double dare swears in this post. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.*

I have a tumultuous relationship with words.  At times, they’re my best companions; in certain instances words fail me miserably.  When my chosen medium of expression decides to thwart me, its in an instance of frustration, fear or anger.

I’m talking about swearing.
Ok, more specifically about my relationship with the F word (not fat, we’ve already covered that.)

F--k. There is nothing more satisfying than letting the f bombs fly in a moment of anger.

Poor Queen Esther, she’s privy to most of my worst swearing offenses. The merge onto the Dan Ryan from 55…? Forget it, I pretty much sound like an uncensored Eminem/ Lil Wayne mash-up.  I know it’s trashy, I know it’s not polite; but there are few things more satisfying than a strategically placed f--k.  [I will not entertain the conversation on intelligence here. I get it, I’m a smart girl who can think of a million other ways to express frustration. I have, and 'fudge', 'frick', and 'oh eff' just  fall miserably flat.]

If it’s not in the car, it’s when I lose something, drop something or am just generally in a state of ‘hot mess’ [that’s a technical term.] C’mon- calling my lap top a ‘little f—ker’ is so much more satisfying than saying ‘sucker’.

Apparently, its also in poor taste to call your friends 'f—ker' or to tell them to 'f—k off'?  Relax Molly manners, I might be trashy, but  I’m kidding.

This shit is so embarrassing.

I’m ashamed that I sound like an uneducated, uncreative NASCAR fan when I talk like that.

I’m ashamed that I can really make people feel uncomfortable when I start spouting off four letter words.

I’m ashamed that in moments of anger, I lose control and all I can do is yell “f—k!” to keep from backhanding someone.

Honestly, I think the shame comes from my perception of other people’s perceptions.  Short of calling a four year old a 'motherf—ker', [seriously almost happened this summer at the YMCA]. I don’t think my language is really keeping anyone up at night.  It’s a matter of using discretion of course, but also; freeing myself from the mental prison of pining after acceptance and  fretting over other people's judgments.

Honestly, fuck that, it is No Shame November, after all.

No Shame November is the brainchild of the fabulous Kathleen Leahy [find her here].

Queen Esther, the escort.

This is my car, Queen Esther.

I'm ashamed of her.
She’s a 1997 Ford Escort. Roll up windows, manual locks, two doors… & a tape deck! She seems to be simple and smart, no frills. Truth be told, she is a regal and unassuming beauty.

Best of all she has a story. I inherited Esther from my Great Aunt Kay the summer before I went away to college. My track record with cars before Esther is shaky, with Esther it’s really a wonder they still let me drive at all. 

I inherited a plethora of treasures with her. She came with a stale cigarette smell from Aunt Kay’s USAA Golds, some crusty leaves from autumn 1999, a mini flash light, stylish cigarette burn holes in all of the seats and some rusty jumper cables that will for sure give me tetnus if I even look at them for too long.  I’d be remiss not to mention the non-working horn [safety first!], weird shaking thing that I’ve gotten completely used to, a missing right fog light and  the hood that never really closes [pretty sure that one keeps my mom up and night.]

It’s great that she was free and all, but she embarrasses the hell out of me. That bit about my poor track record with cars? Just this summer her wipers stopped working on the way home from a friends wedding in Rockford [my passengers were great, I just yelled the f word and called my dad.]

Yeah, white girl problems. I’m ashamed of my car... & I’m ashamed that I’m ashamed [does that even make sense?]

I’m ashamed that she constantly smells like a hot cigarette

I’m ashamed that the carpet looks polka dotted with coffee stains

I’m ashamed that she’s only got two doors and it’s like a throw back to discovery zone birthday parties when people have to climb in the back.

But I’m really ashamed that I live in a culture that makes me ashamed of my car. It’s responsible, it gets great gas mileage, it came at no cost to me or my parents and it enables me to work off campus and make the big bucks [that’s a blatant lie.] Granted it’s ugly and nasty- but why do I have to have the biggest, best and newest of everything?  I don’t, car included. I shouldn't have to carry shame about my car- I should hold my head high and see this jankity-jank automobile for the blessing it is, right?

For what it’s worth, Esther has served me well. She’s traversed the Midwest [shout out to Iowa City, Milwalkee and Grand Rapids] and she’s even made it into the south [Oklahoma City],  I’m planning on making a foray into internataional travel by taking her to Toronto [I’m nuts?!]  This car has been around. She’s taken me everywhere. She has moved me in and out of dorms and apartments for the last four years. She has provided the venue for more than a few late night talks and some pretty big decisions. She drove me out of my parents drive way the first time the word divorce crept into our lives. She took me to the hospital every day my dad was sick the following year, and I realized what being his daughter means now. She drove me to and from my first two-part, divorced Christmas dinner. She doesn’t talk back when I yell or when I cry. She’s pretty reliable. I kind of like her.

That's me & Esther.

No Shame November is the brainchild of the fabulous Kathleen Leahy [find her here].

on being southside irish

 I probably shouldn’t say this out-loud, but…

Sometimes I’m embarrassed about where I come from.

I’m southside irish…  and it's complicated.
I call the front room a fronch room. In my mind, St. Patrick’s Day is a national holiday. I thought it was normal to drink after funerals. I have a When Irish Eyes are Smiling jewelry box, and too much kiss me I’m Irish pride wear. It’s nuts.
Basically, I was taught to be proud.
Of what, you ask? Well, sit down pal, let me tell you...

Special occasions in my family are marked by a few constants, mashed potatoes, turnips, rolls from Beverly Woods and more bottled Miller Lite than I’m comfortable admitting. My mom grew up hearing nuns woefully say, kids that don’t go to Catholic school, “their mothers don’t love them.” [I wish I was kidding, & I know mama KB don’t lie]. My dad is one of seven, and grew up in Beverly (pardon me, Chicago’s Historic Beverly Community). Both of them have had roughly the same social circles since they were six. Everyone knows each other, I've joked that, "it's four degrees of separation on the south side" [its like that Kevin Bacon game, see what I did there?]

I’m from this alternate Irish-Catholic universe.

So what am I so ashamed of?

I’m ashamed that when I study white flight and urban oppression I see faces that look just like mine.

I’m ashamed that I can’t be honest about my family sometimes because, other people “just won’t get it”
(you mean it's not normal to start drinking with your family at your high school graduation party?)

I’m ashamed that I don’t flinch when I hear racial slurs because, that’s just “how it is”

I’m ashamed to call this insular and at times, toxic culture my own.

When I say I grew up Southside-Irish [the Catholic is implied], I think the meaning is lost on people.

It's pretty much a given you don't leave Chicago, you raise your kids near your parents and replicate your childhood experiences. and that’s beautiful. I’m not denying the richness of a tight-knit, cultural community; but it can be suffocating. Everyone knows everyone else’s business and they’re knee deep in it. There’s little room for change how I grew up. Imagine how my mother felt when I told her I didn't call myself a Catholic anymore [there was some exchange about purgatory, but that’s for another day.] 

I had to run far, far away to figure out who I was [more on that later]

Again, No Shame November is certainly getting personal. That was kind of embarrassing for me.

Cultural Experience for the day. Watch this
[the video is total crap, but that song is like summation of my childhood.]

No Shame November is the brainchild of the fabulous Kathleen Leahy [find her here].

No shame… I’m a fat girl.

I did it. I really did. I used the F word. fat. Fat. FAT.

Truth is you’re not going to see me on a TLC special about real life obesity, nor am I “a biscuit shy of 400” (a favorite amongst my mother’s coworkers), but I’m not thin.  My pant size is larger than my shoe size, and in the spirit of honesty- it’s in the double digits. That said, [I’m going to be single for the rest of my life!]…

**cut to disclaimer** Maybe this is getting weird for you. Maybe you’re thinking I’m getting a little too personal, a little too soon. Listen pal, this is No Shame November. I’m not always going to write posts worthy of  17 Magazine. I’m warming up, stick with me. That said, in a quest for less shame, I’m confronting body issues head on. If you’ve got issues with mine, maybe you should check yours?**

It’s an incredibly weird juxtaposition of feelings for me. 

There are days I look in the mirror and think, “wow, LB you are truly fabulous.”

There are other days I look in the mirror and think, “wow, you sure have been putting on the LBs.”

This is real life.

I suppose it shouldn’t define me like it does, and I’m ashamed to say it, but sometimes I view being a big a girl as qualifications for being  a second class citizen. Wow. No Shame November- up close and personal.

I’m ashamed that I can easily spend a half hour looking at the mirror and poking every ounce of white flesh I wish wasn’t there.

I’m ashamed that I cried the last time I bought jeans.

I’m ashamed that I can dwell in a state of mind that says “no, you can’t…. because you don’t look like them.”

Maybe I’m ashamed because I feel like people look at me and think…

Treadmill.
Salad Bar.
…almost attractive?

I’m not going to live my life as an “almost” anything.  I’m not ashamed to say that, for me, the good days outweigh the bad ones, and I know that life is more than skin deep. I’m aware that beauty is much more than the tag on my jeggings (don’t hate) and is comprised of who I am when I look in the mirror but also when I open my mouth.

…and so, no more shame. I am who I am. It’s my job to be healthy and happy, not to be the ideal I created in my head when I was 16 years old…

Que the song “Video” by India.Arie http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mq86e4Fhja0&ob=av2e

No Shame November

This November (that’s this month.)  I’m taking on a bit of a challenge. Joining forces with one of the souls that is dearest to me, I am being shameless this November.

"Dear Public,

Today is the beginning of a project I intend to devote a good amount of time to over the next thirty days. I’m calling it No Shame November. I like to shave, and I would like to be less self-conscious, so I think this is a good alternative to your usual cold-weather challenges.

Everyday, I am going to write about one thing that did/does make me uncomfortable, embarrassed, or otherwise “shamed.” On certain occasions, I will face this fear head on in order to prove something to myself… and hopefully provide a little entertainment along the way.

It’s going to get interesting, folks. Stay tuned. Tonight’s entry will be on mediating conflict"

No Shame November is the brain child of the brilliantly talented Kathleen Leahy. This post was originally published here, http://kathleenleahy.tumblr.com/.