Ways to Pin for Your Husband

So the most recent social media craze is Pinterest. {For people that don't know what it is, click here for the site or here for a quick summary.} You can find things you like all over the Internet and "pin" them in different personalized categories to go back and look at later.

The site is notoriously full of younger stay-at-home moms who pin things like ways to entertain a toddler on a rainy day, how to recover an ottoman with an old t-shirt, and what the best Crockpot stir fry is.

The stereotype of Pinterest-users is fine with me, cause there are also funny cartoons, great clothes and accessories, and cool ways to decorate your house with DIY goodies. So, yes, I'm on the site and I like to look through fun dessert recipes and funky ways to paint my nails.

There is also a ton of religious content on the site from any spirituality. There are jokes about how obvious a choice atheism is and every prayer you could think of. Which also doesn't bother me, because it's user-generated content and what people want, people pin.

Over the past few weeks, though, I've started to notice a trend amongst users. There are multiple mentions to things like "25 Ways to Show Your Husband Respect" and "Covering Your Husband in Prayer for 31 Days." So naturally I got curious. And y'alllllll, my inner feminist is struggling not to comment a big "OH PUHLEASE" on every one of them.

Not because husbands don't deserve prayer or respect. I think praying for others is nice and that in a marriage you should probably wish your significant other the best, at least for the first few years. But these lists include so many outdated, submissive suggestions like "make him his favorite dinner so he'll be happy with you" and "pray for his purity and that he resists temptation."

First off, how about homeboy prays for himself? Or for you? Or shows you respect?

OR, how about he learns to 1) cook for himself or 2) keep it in his pants so that you don't have to worry about him resisting "temptation."

But more importantly, it bothers me when religious women feel it is their duty to be submissive to a male and that they need to be lead in a marriage. Personally, I like the idea of an equal marriage where you walk hand-in-hand. Plus, I was never good at following in line.

So let's talk about Judeo-Christian women that you're trying to emulate. THEY WERE BADASSES.

They were such badasses that I took a whole semester-long class about women in the Bible AND one on feminist spirituality.

How about Jael from Judges, who straight-up drove a nail through a guy's head that was being chased down by Israel? Or let's talk about Deborah, who was the only female judge and lead military attacks. Or Sarah, who lied to the Pharaoh to save her husband and was subsequently then held hostage and raped. Or Abigail who stood up to her deadbeat husband to save herself and her family. Or Delilah who single-handedly brought down Samson? Or Rebekah? Or how about Mary Magdalene? Or Mary, Jesus's mother?

Not to mention the incredibly strong women in Christian history like Joan of Arc, Harriet Tubman, Sor Juana, Jean Donovan, Maria Stewart, Sarah and Angelina Hemke, Coretta Scott King or Fannie Heck?

These women were FAR from meek, gentle butterflies, cowering in the corner batting their eyelashes.

They were smart. They were kind. They were strong. They were thoughtful. They were ambitious.

And, yes, they were women.

My feminist self can rant and rave about taking ownership of your life and not sitting passively behind your father/husband simply because Ephesians says so, but it probably won't change any minds. So I think religious women should look to the foremothers of Judaism and Christianity, read the Bible stories of strong women acting courageously, and give up this passivity that has somehow stayed relevant.

Cause you know Joan of Arc wouldn't have pinned that.

Party of 5...er...14

My family went to the beach.

But not just my immediate family.

My mom and my dad, Ashley and Hunter, Lisa and Matt, Hunter's mom and dad, Matt's mom and dad and sister and sister's boyfriend, my dad's distant cousin and her husband, Jason and I...went to the beach.

Now when just my family of five used to go on vacation, it was some version of the Clampetts go to the beach. We would have some sodas, some lunch meat, a Piggly Wiggly bag of Little Debbie snack cakes, and some SPF.

The Edwards (Hunter & parents), however, know how to do a beach trip. Or at least the food. We get to our house and, by the looks of it, Hunter and his mother had bought out the Charlotte Costco. Not only did they bring food, they cooked it, too. And, unlike the Austins, they know how to cook it right. So we did not go hungry last week, to say the least.

With Matt joining the family in 350 days, he's having to get used to some of the Austin-isms that the five/six of us have grown oblivious to. For example, he doesn't like when I call my dad out for not acting right and use unkind names like...[meanie] and [negative Nancy]. He gets offended.

Matt also wasn't ready for the family conversation that took place concerning when Ashley should go into the ocean to pee, and the sequential events. Once we had all decided that it was the right timing for such event, Ashley did not walk into the ocean to about waist height and then return a few minutes later - she waded into the waves until the water reached her ankles and then straight up popped a squat.

The rest of us, of course, couldn't stop laughing in our beach chairs, turned around, pointing and gawking at her posted up in the kiddy pool. Which really helped her subtlety.

This is your attorney, people.

A couple times during the week, my dad's cousin came to visit for a few hours. She likes to share stories. And tales. And opinions. Needless to say, she doesn't need a penny to share her thoughts. At one point during the week, Jason must have said something about being in the sun, and Debbie came to the rescue. She whipped out some type of after sun lotion and began to rub it on Jason's arm. Now this is the boy who is bothered by nothing, and I was receiving some serious mental signals that a line had been crossed. The rest of us looked away and waited for it to be over.

Debbie wasn't the only family member who got to know Jason a little too well over the trip though, because Jason bought his bathing suit from Walmart. These days Jason is weighing in around 280, and he decided to see how far he could do a split in the sand... facing Ashley. Was this revenge for having to watch her relieve herself in the deep blue? We may never know but I won't rule it out.

Austin/Edwards/Hinson/Hill Week 2012 was a success, and I am extremely lucky to say that all of us get along famously.

PUPPYPALOOZA!!!

Last weekend I went to Charlotte to visit my wonderful sister and brother-in-law.

Oh yeah, and they just happened to have a brand new puppy there too.

World, meet the cutest puppy ever, my niece-dog, Hope.

Hope wasn't sure about the stairs.

And the crowd goes, "AWWWWWWWW"

Fifty Shades of Oh PUHLEASE

Men. You're being hypocritical.

Now I haven't read the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy so I don't have much of an opinion on the phenomenon. But then I read this article.

Essentially, men are feeling that they can't live up to Christian Grey's sexual... acts? deviance? wonder? ...whatever it is that he does. And it makes them feel bad.

Also, that daughters are getting ahold of the books and that is just not right.

Let me remind you that men, women and children have access to a fun little tool called the Internet. Boys and girls much younger than the mentioned 18-year-old have seen way more provocative things, IN VIDEO, on the Internet. So let's just be glad that kids these days know what books are.

And men are the main audience for these videos. Even married ones. So is it really worse for women to read a book about sex, than it is for men to watch videos of the actual act - where they can see the actors..."act?" For years women have said that they feel they can't live up to the women in these videos, and now men are getting a little tastey taste of what that's like.

Can't say I feel bad for you, guys. You're gonna have to buck up. I bet Christian Grey would.

Put Simply.

In honor of Dan Cathy's... let's say "strong"...statements, this is what I have to say to people against gay marriage:

Bloggers Deserve to Die

So here's one of a series of ads run by the Lung Cancer Alliance. If you can't read the copy, it says:

IF THEY HAVE LUNG CANCER. Many people believe that if you have lung cancer you did something to deserve it. It sounds absurd, but it's true. Lung cancer doesn't discriminate and neither should you. Help put an end to the stigma and the disease at NoOneDeservesToDie.org.

Naturally, I have something to say about this.

Perhaps the ad is referring to the non-smokers of the world that have died of lung cancer, approximately 15% of all fatal cases. But I don't think so. I think the ad is aimed at debunking the thought that if you smoke you deserve to die.

I'm not wishing any general population dead. And I'm not making the statement that all smokers deserve to die. But if you make really stupid decisions with your health your whole life, and then want me to be sympathetic when you get sick, the answer is no.

If I sleep with a loaded pistol under my pillow every night, and one night I shoot myself in my sleep, will you feel bad for me? Probs not. You'll think, "Well, maybe you shouldn't have slept with a loaded pistol under your head... and then that loaded pistol wouldn't have gone off and shot you in the head."

DUH.

And it's not that the actual moment of death is any less impactful, it's more so that everyone that hears of said death will say, "Yeah... saw that comin."

Mayyybeee we should all start taking some responsibility for what we do to our own bodies. So we can avoid the blame game when we finally face consequences to the decisions we've made.

Smoking your whole life is a prolonged game of Russian Roulette. So don't be surprised when you reap what you've sown. And please don't ask me to pay for your healthcare.

Not even the chocolate kind

This summer I'm interning for the Corporate Communications team at Turner Broadcasting. It's very neat. I get to work in the CNN Center and do the behind-the-scenes work for the internal and external Turner websites.

So I'm learning a ton of new things. Mostly how to master all things Adobe (Dreamweaver, Photoshop, Illustrator), but also some life lessons.

As a precursor, I really like this internship. Mostly because they let me learn whatever I want in my free time and they encourage me to seek out anything I'm interested in. But in an effort to translate the general experience of this internship, I offer you this metaphor that I have come to quote painfully often:

There was a guy who wanted to be a master chef. So he went to apprentice in some great kitchen where he could practice his wonderful chef skills. The head chef told him that he had to thinly slice hundreds of potatoes into very skinny wafers. The man spent days and days slicing the potatoes just so, and when the head chef saw that he had finished, he threw all the potato slices in the trash.

The apprentice asked why he would do that when he had spent days slicing them perfectly. And the head chef said, "Because you'll actually be slicing these," presenting him with truffles (you know, the really expensive ones that pigs dig up).

And so, if you're catching my drift, I've been slicing potatoes. But hey, I'm learning how to slice correctly, and I intend to be the best slicer ever by the time I'm handed truffles.

Catholic Badasses

This is an ode to nuns.

Nuns have been all over the news lately. Mostly as the target of Vatican condemnation. Aside from the sister that wrote "Just Love," the Vatican has also been upset recently that nuns aren't focusing on fighting birth control and homosexuality.

So here's why I love nuns.

Nuns give up everything to be nuns. Priests and other clergymen get to keep all their things and they get power and an audience as well. It seems that the higher up you get, the more you get. Which is similar to any business, in their defense. But nuns decide that they're going to give up all their worldly possessions to live how they think God/Jesus wants them to. Or whatever their reasoning is. But they don't want anything back for it. They don't get power, they don't get paid, and for the most part they don't get any recognition. They just do what they do cause they think it's the right thing. And that is badass.

Nuns do good things. Now, for the most part, I don't really know all that much about nuns. But it seems that their response to the Vatican saying they don't focus on birth control and homosexuality enough is, "Sorry, Popey-pope, too busy takin' care of the sick and needy. We'll let ya know when they're all taken care of and then we'll focus on the more frivolous things." Or so I imagine. Which, at least in my imagination, is badass.

Nuns cover their bodies. I don't really care how nuns choose to dress, but after seeing all the Muslim women in Morocco covering their bodies and hearing their reasons why, I have a new respect for people that choose to save their physical features for God/their husband. If only America could make the connection that neither nuns nor (Moroccan) Muslim women are forced to veil themselves. That would be badass.

So there you have it - my ode to nuns. I don't particularly care for the Catholic church or it's hier(patri)archy, but as far as nuns are concerned, they are the cream of the crap to me.

Prima Ballerina

Being a high school graduate doesn't make you special.

If you haven't heard about the commencement speaker (and English teacher at the school) who gave the "You're Not Special" speech to a graduating class, you can watch it here.

Essentially, the speaker is saying that just because you now have a high school diploma, you are not spectacular. There are millions of other people with high school diplomas. So how will you go from here to make yourself stand out?

"Across the country no fewer than 3.2 million seniors are graduating about now from more than 37,000 high school. That's 37,000 valedictorians... 37,000 class presidents... 92,000 harmonizing altos... 340,000 swaggering jocks ... 2,185,967 pairs of Uggs. But why limit ourselves to high school? After all, you're leaving it. So think about this: Even if you're one in a million, on a planet of 6.8 billion that means there are nearly 7,000 people just like you."

Some people are offended by the speech. Either because there are some that never get to graduate high school, because it is an achievement to graduate high school, or because someone told them that the world didn't owe them anything just cause they passed algebra. 

I find the speech amusing to say the least, and didn't really think much about it beyond, "Right on, brother! You got people to remember something about a commencement speech."

But THEN I read this article. And I liked it.

So it got me thinking about how I was raised. My parents have always been supportive and loving, and always worked very hard not to miss a chorus concert, soccer game, volleyball tournament, honors night or anything else I've ever even hinted that they should attend.

So this is not to say that my parents aren't supportive, but they don't tell me I'm the best. At least not at everything. They tend to avoid negative words, but they aren't known to fabricate encouragement for the sake of my fragile psyche.

For example: In 6th grade I was in the play "Oliver Twist" as an orphan. I marched in down the aisles amongst about 30 other orphans. We were all dressed in the same grey, intentionally mangled sweat suits, carrying identical bowls of "gruel." I was the literal opposite of a stand-out.

Now I carried that bowl like a champ, but it was known that I was not the star. So mostly my parents and I talked about the making of the play, the different songs, the sets, etc. There is a way of being supportive without fawning over your child's every move.

Example 2: After my high school volleyball team won the state championship my junior year, I decided to hang up my knee pads and pursue other endeavors. So I joined the church choir (a mediocre second soprano) and started taking hip-hop classes.

Now I wasn't allowed to join the advanced dance class (an obvious mistake on the part of the dance company), so I joined the intermediate class. So here I am, 18 years old, 5'8", 140 lbs., joining in a dance class where the next-oldest person is 12, standing at about 5 feet. The little girls would stare at my keys when I walked in and ask what it's like to drive. When we got fitted for our costumes I had to get XXXL pants because the sizes were kids' sizes and they didn't make pants for people with 36" legs. You get the idea.

So when the year came to an end, my parents (and friends who had figured out I was having a recital and therefore attended to gain ridicule rights) not only came to my recital, but sat through the endless numbers of 2-10 year-olds spinning in tutus to see me dance to an edited version of "Sexyback."

After the debut of my artistry, I met my friends and parents outside the theatre in anticipation of a shower of roses followed by countless offers from Broadway scouts.

"Oh, I'm so flattered, but no thank you. I'm dedicated to my studies and have always dreamed to go to college, dance is just my gift, that I must now re-gift to the world," I would say in my smokey, old-Hollywood voice.

But, alas, I didn't actually expect any of this to happen because I knew I was bad. And so did everyone else. My parents had laughed with me every week when I came home and told them how class went, so they knew I'd be no good. They had acted impressed when I told them that our number started off with me jumping over one of the girls' head, but then did their best not to laugh when I told them that said-girl was only 4'2".

My parents did not praise me the night of my recital. They probably asked if I had fun and said they enjoyed the show, which in-itself is no more than a half-truth. Telling your kid they're the best at everything they do isn't fooling anyone. Especially not your kid. So if they do something terribly, tell them it wasn't their best and a little hard work will make it better next time.

The point of all this is, very few people are special. That's what special means. And it's great to tell you're kid how special they are to you, or how good they are at math, or how much potential they have. But don't get all cranky when someone tells your kid that in order to be outstanding, they need to make themselves stand out. Like I would have if they'd just put me in that damn advanced class.

Nuns and Atheists

As I've mentioned before, I'm a big fan of the CNN Belief Blog. It combines religion, journalism and controversy; which, to me, is the perfect storm of delight.

My favorite writer for the blog is Stephen Prothero, a professor at Boston University. He is my second-favorite CNN employee (behind Anderson Cooper, of course), and he has recently been covering the Vatican's condemnation of Sister Margaret Farley's book, Just Love. Click here to read more about it, it's pretty interesting.

So there are two sides to this: 1) I agree with a lot of the things her book says, so therefore I think she's a badass nun. I also like the idea of people being individuals and thinking for themselves. You go, girl! 2) Nuns are Catholic. Catholic teachings are pretty strict. If you don't want to follow the Catholic teachings, don't be a Catholic (much less a nun).

Anyway, then I read a follow up article (again, by my love Prothero). And of course I love most everything on the Belief Blog (even/especially articles I disagree with), but sometimes what's better than the writing is the comment section.

I've grown strong in my belief that when someone makes the decision to be an atheist, they have to also adopt the "I am right, you are wrong and dumb and below me" attitude. At least for the atheists on the Belief Blog. It seems that atheists flock to this blog to make negative comments about any and every article.

Usually it's annoying. Like almost always. But every once in a while, a well-spoken atheist flitters by and makes a good point.

Like Atheist commenter "Colin" for example. This is his letter to Catholics from God, and whether you choose to believe them or not, he makes some interesting and at the very least entertaining points.

"Dear Catholics:

God here.
First, I do not exist. The concept of a 13,700,00,000 year old being, capable of creating the entire Universe and its billions of galaxies, monitoring simultaneously the thoughts and actions of the 7 billion human beings on this planet is ludicrous.

Second, if I did, I would have left you a book a little more consistent, timeless and independently verifiable than the collection of Iron Age Middle Eastern mythology you call the Bible. Hell, I bet you cannot tell me one thing about any of its authors or how and why it was edited over the Centuries, yet you cite them for the most extraordinary of claims.

Thirdly, when I sent my “son” (whatever that means, given that I am god and do not mate) to Earth, he would have visited the Chinese, Japanese, Europeans, Russians, sub-Saharan Africans, Australian Aboriginals, Mongolians, Polynesians, Micronesians, Indonesians and native Americans, not just a few Jews. He would also have exhibited a knowledge of something outside of the Iron Age Middle East.

Fourthly, I would not spend my time hiding, refusing to give any tangible evidence of my existence, and then punish those who are smart enough to draw the natural conclusion that I do not exist by burning them forever. That would make no sense to me, given that I am the one who elected to withhold all evidence of my existence in the first place.

Fifth, I would not care who you do or how you “do it”. I really wouldn’t. This would be of no interest to me, given that I can create Universes. Oh, the egos.

Sixth, I would have smited all traditional Catholics, (and evangelicals and fundamentalists) long before this. You people drive me nuts. You are so small minded and yet you speak with such false authority. Many of you still believe in the talking snake nonsense from Genesis. I would kill all of you for that alone and burn you for an afternoon (burning forever is way too barbaric even for me to contemplate).

Seventh, the whole idea of members of one species on one planet surviving their own physical deaths to “be with me” is utter, mind-numbing nonsense. Grow up. You will die. Get over it. I did. Hell, at least you had a life. I never even existed in the first place.

Eighth, I do not read your minds, or “hear your prayers” as you euphemistically call it. There are 7 billion of you. Even if only 10% prayed once a day, that is 700,000,000 prayers. This works out at 8,000 prayers a second – every second of every day. Meanwhile I have to process the 100,000 of you who die every day between heaven and hell. Dwell on the sheer absurdity of that for a moment.

Ninthly, had I existed, do you really think my representation on Earth would have such a history of corruption, retardation of science, financial misdeeds, political intrigue, outright criminal behavior and sexual misconduct, including pedophilia, as the Vatican does. I mean, come on! As a CEO, I would be fired for allowing my organization to run amok century after century.

Finally, the only reason you even consider believing in me is because of where you were born. Had you been born in India, you would likely believe in the Hindu gods, if born in Tibet, you would be a Buddhist. Every culture that has ever existed has had its own god(s) and they always seem to favor that particular culture, its hopes, dreams and prejudices. What, do you think we all exist? If not, why only yours?

Look, let’s be honest with ourselves. There is no god. Believing in me was fine when you thought the World was young, flat and simple. Now we know how enormous, old and complex the Universe is.

Move on – get over me. I did.

God"

 
All that being said, the beauty of faith is that it doesn't have to be justified. I find his list amusing none the less.

The ups and downs of summerhood (but mostly ups)

The best way I know to do a catch up post is via pictures. So that is what we'll do since I've been neglecting the 'Luff for way too long now. Last time I posted I had just finished school and was about to head back to Atlanta for the summer: unemployed and open for suggestions.

Right when I got back I got to watch this guy graduate from Georgia Tech after a mere five years with his industrial engineering degree.

Although I'm a UGA girl through and through, I will brag on Tech for a second because Wall Street just named them the Number 1 engineering school in the nation.  That's decent I guess.

But I still got a little pleasure out of these people who were dressed in red and black for whatever reason.

A week after the graduation we headed to the Bahamas to celebrate on a cruise! 

Since then I've been busy doing really important things.

Like fishing.

And letting my friends give me and my mom fake tattoos.

She's the coolest.

And, on a not-so-fun note, I finally got allergy tested.

21 shots in my arms and a bunch of grids with needles pressed into my back. And guess what I'm allergic to? (HINT: I've had allergies throughout my life with no idea what the cause is.)

Answer: DOGS.

I am allergic to dogs! That is terrible news. I love dogs. I want a gaggle of them. I want to use puppies as a duvet when I have my own place. But it makes a good amount of sense, seeing that I've lived with dogs forever and my allergies get worse when I'm home.

PHOOEY.

But, alas, I have landed a summer internship! So that's better news. I'll be working in corporate communications for Turner Broadcasting (TBS)! I'm pumped cause it sounds like the work is right up my alley. Chances are pretty good that I'll have more ridiculous intern stories to share soon, I start in a week. CNN Center, here I come!

Tent City Temperaments

So you may have caught on by now that I advocate for gay rights. No, this isn't another gay rights post, but I need to preface this by saying that I think people should be treated fairly and I'm a general fan of human rights.

Now let's talk about prisoners' rights. Prisoners are in prison because they have broken the law badly enough, or enough times, that they are now locked up. This is what sets them apart from any other human that falls under "human rights" (color, sexuality, gender, religion, etc.).

We don't torture our prisoners. We don't starve them or deny them medical help. We give them three meals a day and a roof over their heads. We even give them recreational time. I get that prisoners are still people that should be treated humanely, but you don't become a prisoner by being an upstanding, law-abiding citizen.

I've been to countries where, if you're in prison, someone outside of the prison has to bring you food if you're going to eat at all. I've also been places where the people would give up a limb to live in the conditions of an American prison. Also, there are American soldiers fighting places that are hotter, dirtier, and more confined than any American prison.

This is all leading to the fact that Jason and I like to watch prison shows. So the other night we were watching one about the toughest sheriff in America who runs a prison with a "tent city" as part of it. Protesters love to line the outside of the tent city to rant about the terrible conditions.

The tent city is an outdoor collection of large tents with bunks lined up under the tents. In the summer, the heat can make the temperature spike to 120 degrees. That's pretty high. I can get why people would be unhappy with that. The catch? If you don't want to be a part of the tent city, you don't have to! You can refuse your assignment and be put in a cell inside like normal prisoners. You can leave at any time. So you can literally choose your prison conditions. I no longer have sympathy for the tent city people.

Then, the show features a prisoner who is just appalled with the conditions and thinks everything in inhumane, etc. He's well spoken. The sheriff comes around to talk with the prisoners about the tent city. When the sheriff talks to this particular prisoner, does he complain about the high temperatures? Nope. Does he complain about food or shower schedules or anything else that might be ever considered inhumane by anyone? No.

And I quote:
"How come we only have a few channels on the TV? I wanted to watch the Clippers game last night but the only one we got is the Lakers."

I'm sorry....WHAT?!

I have exactly one and a half channels on a lucky day, when my digital antenna is in a good mood. I don't pay for my own cable and you want my tax money to go to cable for a prison so that you can get ESPN2!? Boy you must be out yo mind.

If I ran a prison, by the time the people got out, they would have forgotten what a TV looks like. How's about we give prisoners BOOKS? It's this old technology where people learn things through reading words on a page. Then you flip the page, and there are more words to read. Repeat.

I might also make the prisoners work all day to keep the prison running, so that taxpayer money didn't have to go to paying civilian employees. Outside of prisons you have to work to feed yourself, why not inside the prison?

I'm not saying we should torture anyone or be inhumane. But the fact that prisoners are complaining about not having a deluxe cable package is insanely frivolous. Read a book. Learn a skill. Start a therapy group. Take the offered GED classes. Play cards. Think about what you did wrong and how you'll rectify it at the end of your sentence.