Snow Daze

We got snow Sunday night. And Monday morning. And Tuesday night.

It has been a disappointment.

While white and beautiful, the snow has completely hindered my week. I spent all day Monday working from home, fielding multiple phone calls at once on my cell phone and constantly texting my boss about various work things. Gideon made me tea and sat quietly in the living room, which definitely prevented me from murdering him. (Work Sam is not to be messed with.)

Once my nine-hour workday was over, I suggested to Gideon that we go outside to build a snowman. I bundled up and grabbed some chocolate chips, a winter hat and a scarf for Mr. Snowman. Unfortunately, it was not meant to be. The snow was too fluffy and fell apart in my gloved hands every time I attempted to roll out a ball. We settled on a snow angel, but I couldn't get off the slippery ground well and ended up mutilating the whole thing.

It was a massacre. My tail between my legs, I scuttled back into the apartment and watched one of those true crime shows while drinking my third cup of tea that day. All in all, it wasn't bad. But - and I hate to say this, because snow days are definitely fun - I hated being away from work and feeling like I was falling behind.

I could blame myself for this, since I didn't drive to work and camp out the night before knowing we would receive snow and ice. But instead I'll blame the snow and ice, because I am a huge fan of projecting.

Political rant (and you have been warned)

People can be really stupid. I generally hate when I read that sentence online because it's so vague and rarely results in explanation but since I plan on explaining I am exempt from this specific group of stupid people who write vague opinions about other stupid people without saying why. My that was a long sentence.

So, politics. I don't talk politics very often to avoid conflict. After all, there really is nothing better than a political debate to end a friendship. But today I am angry and today I want to talk politics. So I will.

I started getting angry last night when one of my friends shared a post praising the judges in Alabama for ignoring the Supreme Court's ruling in favor of same-sex marriage. According to this post, judges throughout the state are planning to reject those seeking same-sex marriage in spite of the law. I sat there in the dark, my face illuminated by Gideon's computer and quickly became enraged.

See, this is why I've always been kind of uncomfortable with religion. Religion, I've found, is more often a medium through which judgmental people come together to hurt others, in turn boosting their own agendas. Of course there are exemptions to this; I have known many kind Christians who disagree with this line of thinking. Still, I see so many of my acquaintances on Facebook posting about how the law should subscribe to their religion.

Same-sex marriage is a popular subject for them, and I don't understand why. Christianity preaches love, right? This isn't a sinners-in-the-angry-hands-of-God situation anymore, is it? Part of love is respect - a very major part of it, in my opinion - and if you can't respect someone else's faith/sexual orientation/political views, then you are not being the Christian you claim to be.

This really sucks and it's incredibly hurtful to those viewed as aberrant by certain religious groups, but you could say it's all an opinion at the end of the day. You can always rise above an opinion. You can't, however, rise above a person using his or her personal views to dictate how you live your life. That's when you fight. That's when you get angry.

Same-sex marriage should be a non-issue. The fact that our legislators have to draft bills and vote to allow same-sex couples rights clearly stated in the Constitution wastes time and money and merely serves to distract citizens from the other shitty things going on in D.C. On a personal note, it truly upsets me that some people I know and have laughed with have no tolerance for diversity - so little tolerance, in fact, that they believe it's okay to oppress an entire group of people for the sake of being in the right. (Haha, pun.)

Now for a new topic, because I dislike all extremists equally!

I also have friends who are so supportive of the LGBT community that they completely disregard anyone who isn't part of it. This group of people is just as reactionary - if not more - than those hypocritical Christians I complained about above.

For example, when those working at the satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo were killed last month, one of my friends posted that by defending the magazine's free speech, we were defending hate speech. (Hebdo published controversial Muhammad cartoons.)

I tried to explain that satire is meant to inspire thinking and isn't meant to be taken at face value. Since I responded fairly and respectfully, I expected the same in return. I was wrong. I don't even think any of those people read what I wrote before replying with sassy one-liners. I was so angry that I went home and angry-cried while eating low-calorie ice cream, and that is the saddest sentence anyone has ever written.

This is getting long, so to wrap it up: Don't be an asshole. Just because you believe in one thing, you don't have to force it on other people. And for the love of Lost, listen to understand, not to respond.

(Early) Valentine's Day roundup

I wrote yesterday that my mother and best friend are coming to town to spend Valentine's Day weekend with me. What I didn't write - but perhaps implied - is that Gideon and I will be spending the day apart, with him tending to his two younger siblings and me gorging on chocolate with my family. He's watching his siblings for his mother who will be out of town and who first asked if he didn't mind because it's Valentine's Day and all.

He didn't tell me his response, but I'm certain it went something like, "No, Sam has already abandoned me for the weekend so I'm completely free." But it's really okay that we won't be together, as I have already given him all his gifts and bought him dinner at a fancy Italian eatery in town. I did these things a week ago, which might prompt you to say, "But Sam, that's so early."

Clearly you don't know me at all. For dinner, we went on a double date with one of our couple friends. This is a new couple and we quickly snapped them up, sorely lacking double date buddies besides Gideon's mom and her boyfriend (they are great but I feel uncomfortable twerking and cursing incessantly around them, and we all know that's necessary for a double date). Gideon had some delicious vegetable-pasta confection and I had spaghetti and meatballs. We also ordered some gorgonzola bread rounds.

It was delicious. If I end up someplace pleasant in the afterlife, this is the food I will be served every two hours. (In my version of heaven, you never gain weight and you eat spaghetti and meatballs six times a day.)

As for gifts, I got Gideon a new wireless computer mouse. He lost his when we were in Alabama and has since been unable to comfortably play his beloved Steam games. While that gift didn't cost much, it has definitely allowed me more time to watch bad television as he tinkers away at whatever that game is he likes playing so much. (Sure I should know what it is by now. But I remember only the important things, like what Kimberly was wearing when she removed her wig on Melrose Place to reveal - dun dun dun - that she had a gnarly scar from a car accident and was likely mentally defunct.)

The big gift, though, was the sonnet I wrote him. Yes, I wrote a sonnet. I would copy it over to this blog but it's not exactly perfect and I might have sneered at it the whole time I was writing it. If you don't know what a sonnet is, I'll tell you.

It is terrible. It is a 16-line poem written in iambic pentameter - which means there are ten syllables per line with a pattern of unstressed/stressed sounds - with a turn halfway through. It has a specific rhyme scheme and you have to repeat the first rhyme in the last two lines, which is called a heroic couplet. It was very difficult to write, taking me almost four hours.

So difficult, in fact, that when I gave it to Gideon (on Monday, about six days early per usual) I said, "I love you. Fuck iambic pentameter."

Happy early Valentine's Day to you and yours! And just remember, nothing says "I love you" like "Fuck iambic pentameter."

Ways I have publicly embarrassed my mother, part one of a million

My mother turns an age I won't reveal in public out of respect for her ego this Saturday. She's visiting me - along with my childhood (and adulthood) best friend Dora - this weekend for various festivities, including the Chocolate Festival and seeing a band in Fayetteville. We're also going to brunch at Myrtie Mae's Sunday morning, a restaurant with the best fried chicken and hot coffee in town. (Mud Street Cafe has the best flavored coffee, but there's nothing like eating a leg of fried chicken with a piping hot cup of black coffee.) 

I'm preparing a longer post in celebration of my mother, but that's going to be very sappy and I don't want to make her cry until I see her in person. How else will I know I'm an effective writer?

In the mean time, I thought I'd write something to prove that my mother probably should've drowned me at birth to save herself a lifetime of embarrassment. Hence, the many ways I have - intentionally and unintentionally - publicly embarrassed my mother. 

1. One of my relatives gave me a videotape of Toy Story for Christmas right after it came out. My expression soured, causing the relative to ask if I already had the film. I responded, "No, I just don't like it." This is all recorded, too, so my mom can relive the embarrassment whenever she wants.
2. Once I got so mad that she wouldn't take me to dinner immediately that I started to fake intense sickness. Friends and family were there. I don't know how she didn't murder me.
3. Two Thanksgivings ago, I sang Poison's "Talk Dirty to Me" at karaoke to an empty bar in Spanish. She told me later it was impressive but that she didn't need to be there to see it. 



This, but with fruit-loop shaped flowers on the toe.

4. In high school, I learned that it made my mom really uncomfortable if I dressed weird. So I started wearing brightly colored tights and really odd ensembles. (I wish I had a photo but I'm almost certain we've burned them all.) Instead of showing discomfort, Mom started purchasing even weirder clothing items for me, such as a pair of a bright red pointed-toe booties with embroidered flowers splayed throughout the shoe. And I wore those shoes, proudly, with a purple dress and a bright yellow cardigan. It was a clothing Cold War and I'm pretty sure no one won.
5. When discovering the wonders of cursing, I exclaimed, "Dang it!" over and over again at a public social event. Mom told me to stop, to which I replied, "What? It's not like I said, 'Damn it!'" I was such a pleasure to live with.
6. I called my aunt stupid for not being able to recall the name of a restaurant we were talking about at dinner. Mom told me I was being an asshole kid - in a kinder way, of course - and appeared to legitimately consider leaving me at the restaurant. She probably would have had my nana not been with us. 

So yes, while I owe my mom a huge thank you for all she's done for me and a happy birthday for living so long (or so little - who knows?), I should also thank her for not throwing me off the San Antonio boardwalk when she had the chance. And we were in San Antonio for a week, so she had plenty of chances. 

How you know it's true love: reason one

When you and your partner are almost asleep but still awake and he/she farts really loudly, you don't move or talk or laugh no matter how much you want to. And if he/she blames it on the cat, you agree.

On an unrelated note, our cat is very gassy.

Ten observations of this season of Celebrity Apprentice

1. Ian Ziering, easily the best male character on Beverly Hills 90210, is absolutely not a person I'd like to hang out with or even breathe near. He was obnoxious and childish on the show and failed to redeem himself in the blogs he wrote for People.com. Also, I write way better than he does. Just pointing that out, Ian. 
2. Kenya Moore is really terrifying. If I ever saw her in public, I'd pretend to be a huge fan just so she wouldn't punch me in the face for not knowing who she was. 
3. The scripting of the show is so obvious that, in ways, it's subtle. Maybe part of it is that many of these contestants are actors and can convincingly portray betrayal, but I really did buy into the Kenya-stole-Vivica's-cell-phone story line. I was routing for Vivica. When I told Gideon that I was mad at Kenya, he said, "Well, you're supposed to be. She's the villain." Damn it, Celebrity Apprentice, you got me. You got me good. 
4. Gilbert Gottfried is a national treasure. He's made some bad jokes, but haven't we all? 
5. If I die young and could choose any celebrity to deliver my eulogy, I'm definitely asking for Leeza Gibbons to show up. She's classy, intelligent, beautiful and well-versed in social situations. I kind of idolize her. Why wouldn't I invite someone from the cast of Lost, you ask? Well, I love them all and wouldn't want to inspire jealousy. It's really quite selfless, you see?
6. Vivica A. Fox is pretty rad, too. I'm probably biased because she starred in one of my favorite movies of all time (Kill Bill), but she has impressed me with her attitude. While she's not that likely to attack someone, she will stand up for herself when need be. She's no Leeza Gibbons but damn can that woman rock a pair of skinny jeans.
7. More Gary Busey would be appreciated. This is true of any situation in life.
8. Ivanka Trump's ice cold glare is something I aspire to. Surprisingly - as this is a show hosted by Donald Trump and features his womanizing friend Geraldo Rivera - the show is pretty serious about girl power. I like that. 
9. I miss Joan Rivers.
10. I know I said it already, but I would really appreciate a Gary Busey cameo in the finale. Make it happen, Trump. 

Greek Li(f)e

Have you ever encountered something from your past that you definitely thought you were over and realized all at once that it was shittier than you remember and you aren't actually over it at all?

That happened to me last weekend.

I was scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed, which is primarily comprised of high school friends who have babies, The Onion and a handful of college friends. Because I spend so much time flicking past baby photos and marriage announcements, I was surprised when a photo caught my eye. It was a photo of a t-shirt with sorority letters. One of my college friends who works at Goodwill had posted it, asking that anyone involved with the sorority come by to pick it up before it gets tossed out.

Without understanding why, I became so angry that I almost started crying. I soon understood. You see, that wasn't just some shirt. That was the shirt I made for my little sister during Big Little Week. That was the shirt I spent an hour choosing a pattern for. That shirt represented the love and the faith I had in the sorority - the hope that a group of people would accept me despite my flaws, that I could have a support system during the most tumultuous years of my life so far  - and here it was on sale at Goodwill.

Of course, I should give a little background. I'll apologize in advance for being slightly vague; while I feel justified in my attitude toward the sorority, I acknowledge that I made some mistakes. I'm not going to call anyone out for specific actions knowing I didn't always handle myself well.

With that out of the way, here's some history: As a freshman in college, I befriended a group of girls who wanted to start a local sorority. My freshman year was hard for me. I had started dating a person who did not treat me well and I tried my best to hide that from everyone. As this is a very personal topic for me, it's hard for me to discuss it publicly still. I'll offer one anecdote to illustrate how bad it was, but that's basically all I can do now.

While arguing, I told him I wanted to break up with him. I meant it. Instead of accepting it and letting me leave, he began punching himself in the head repeatedly and threw things around the room, telling me he didn't know what he'd do without me. That kind of thing happened often, scaring me into staying. After all, if he'd hit himself in the head and punch walls, he could easily do that to me, too.

Suffering in silence, I started drinking at parties and crying hysterically at the end of the night. It was a cry for help, but my drinking buddies interpreted it as simply being a party pooper. True story: I still get jokes from some of my college acquaintances about how I'm an emotional drunk, and it cuts deeper and deeper every time.

I needed friends, so I said yes to the sorority. Most of them weren't my friends. I realized this the day I quit in 2013 when, after making the announcement, I received only one phone call. (I need to point out that I did discuss quitting with the sister in charge of disciplinary procedures, and she was incredibly kind and understanding. She is the exception. She and maybe two other kind souls in the sorority are the reason I'm not bashing the sorority on a whole.) It was from a sister asking me if she could have my letter shirts.

Why did I quit? Basically, I felt under-appreciated and unwanted. Now I realize that few of the girls in that sorority understood what I was going through and, in turn, can't be held accountable for ignoring all the warning signs I exhibited. Still, I did give that sorority my all. I had two little sisters, who I showered with gifts and affection. I felt unwanted in that sorority probably since the day I joined it, and I wanted to be sure they didn't feel that way.

Considering they quit just days after I did, I'm guessing they didn't feel wanted either. Considering one of the sisters still in the sorority donated a letter shirt I worked so hard on to Goodwill, I'm guessing I wasn't wanted at all.

I'm not posting this for pity or anything of the sort. I'm just asking that you consider what other people are going through before you judge them. Labeled the "emotional drunk," I was considered an image problem for my sorority before any of them considered what might actually be happening under the surface.

I am not that person anymore. I'm happy now. I'm not looking for an apology or an explanation; after all, what's done is done. The future, though, isn't written yet. And I hope all of you who are reading this - whether you were in that sorority or if you're just one of my friends who accidentally clicked a link and felt drawn in by my baiting open question at the beginning of this post - try to shower love on those experiencing difficulty rather than dismissing them as a mental case.

I could've really used that kind of support. We all could.

(Ed. Note: I'm not bashing Greek life in general. This is my personal experience, and that's really it. In another life, I would absolutely love the opportunity to join a sorority and have those meaningful relationships I see among many of my college friends.)