Romantic Cynic: Laundry, Love and Wifely Duties

A couple of months ago, I celebrated 3 years with my boyfriend! (Shock and applause) Sure, we’ve had our ups and downs but if our biggest issues are dirty socks on the floor and not making the bed, I’d say we’re doing pretty well. From the noted issues, you can probably surmise that we’re living together. Cohabitating!!! (Still a scary thought…)

I know people have very mixed feelings about living together before marriage. If you’re against it, I’d never argue the issue with you. To each his/her own. Just a few thoughts:

  • Living in Sin – Sure, maybe. But is sinning and splitting the rent any worse than sinning and driving home a little later?
  • Waiting for Marriage – Not every couple is looking (or should be looking) to get married. I found a button a few years ago that still makes me chuckle. It reads ‘It’s not premarital sex if I’m not planning to get married.”

But I digress…How my boyfriend and I came to cohabit followed a series of events including floods, roommates deciding to cohabit with significant others, motorcycle accidents, friends possibly moving into town, and cat allergies. But ultimately, we simply decided the benefits outweighed the potential risks. After two years, all is well…

The free and generally unwarranted advice giver in me, Mama Jov’an if you will, would never suggest moving in with someone so early, Sure, some people know after 6 months (or weeks!) that this is the person they want to marry, but for us, moving in together after just a year was not in either of our “plans”. Life happened and we adjusted accordingly. My plan didn’t include sharing a living room until an engagement ring was on my finger. Oh well…

As this was the first time I’d lived with a boyfriend, some of the necessary adjustments seemed like huge inconveniences. What do you mean you don’t over analyze EVERYTHING the way I do? We’ve had “conversations” about everything from laundry not in the hamper, dishes not in the dishwasher, toilet seats not being down, egg shells, type(s) of milk, shoes not put away and on and on. As you can possibly imagine, these “conversations” are actually hints/complaints. I wouldn’t say I care more than he does. I just care about more things than he does. (Did you like how I did that?…)

To give him his due credit, my boyfriend is awesome and has made more adjustments for me than I could probably name off (although I’m sure he’d have no problem listing them). He has been very respectful of my particularities (rather than peculiarities). There may be many more things I like to add to the list of things “we” have to work on to live in perfect harmony but he’s been a trooper. And we’ll both continue learning how to adapt to each other and sharing our space. I, of course, was already perfect so….

As we expected, our parental units were/are not too keen on our current life style choice. My mother gave us an oh-so-subtle deadline for engagement (that we’ve already passed…). His father has applied similar pressures. His grandmother has no words and mine have no knowledge. The only parent who didn’t seem too upset was my stepmother.  She just asked how it was going. However, my favorite response so far has been my dad’s.

After recovering from the shock of learning we were living together, my dad proceeded to tell me how he’d really liked girlfriends but never enough to sacrifice his freedom. He informed me my boyfriend’s friends would expect to visit and stay (not understanding that had happened before he officially lived with me and my bathroom had been destroyed). There was some more uncomfortable fatherly blustering before the crown jewel was delivered. My dad warned me not to “assume wifely duties”.

It took everything in me not to laugh at that moment. It was really funny but I was trying to be sensitive to his current state of mind. While I was SO curious what exactly he meant by “wifely duties”, I decided to let it go and have chosen to assume he meant things like doing my boyfriend’s laundry and all of the cooking and cleaning. I understand and respect my dad’s concerns. He’s probably worrying about milks before cows… And while I wasn’t at the time we moved in together, I will be ready for marriage one day and will want more or to get out. However, I’m okay with a trial run.

And that’s what this really is – a trial run. We’re learning if we can live together.  If we really struggle, we wouldn’t expect things to get magically better by introducing rings and a stressful, expensive ceremony. And if we’re living together, it’s natural (and healthy) to assume we’re grocery shopping together, cooking together, sharing a closet and hamper and doing laundry together. It’s all a give and take. Some things are either more important or more interesting to one of us than the other. (Because I read clothing labels and he doesn’t) I’d rather do the laundry. As I know nothing about my car, he’d rather fix a headlight. I like trying out new recipes and don’t mind cooking for both of us (although to be fair, he cooks a lot and helps me). And he’s willing to walk my cockapoo when I’m running late. He’s also sweet enough to put the seat back down. Swoon

Dirty socks and dog poop are the less exciting parts of living together. But we’re happy to help each other and are well on our way to figuring out how to do this.

Waiting for the dryer to finish,

Jo’van

August 16, 2013
Categories: Romantic Cynic (Love And Lookalikes), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 2 Comments

Shades of Understanding: Cinco de Mayo Helped End Slavery?

A repost from a few years ago but I still think it’s interesting. 🙂

Yes, I just love this song and Carlos Santana IS Mexican so it works, right?  Rob Thomas’ wife (the lady in the window) is Puerto Rican.  Close enough…

Cinco de Mayo!!!  For many people, May 5th has something to do with a Mexican battle and is a perfect excuse to gorge on chips and salsa, inhale tacos and drink a lot of (if not too many) Corona’s, Mexican Martinis and margaritas.  Traditionally for me, Cinco de Mayo celebrations are about finding the most colorful dress you have and preparing to drink to oblivion (or most often in my case watching other people drink to oblivion).  There’s been very little history or real knowledge associated with the date.  But a few years ago I learned something new about the holiday.  Who knew Cinco de Mayo had a (near) direct relationship to the emancipation of slavery?

I learned this through a post titled “Market Research: Cinco de Mayo Isn’t Indepence Day” on Advertising Age’s The Big Tent blog.  According to the Fayetville Observer (North Carolina):

“During this time, Confederate General Robert E. Lee was enjoying success, and had the French defeated México at Puebla, France would have aided the South in the American Civil War in order to free Southern ports of the Union Blockade. The Mexicans had won a great victory that kept Napoleon III from supplying the confederate rebels for another year, allowing the United States to build the greatest army the world had ever seen.”

While there’s a lot more to it, the success of the Mexicans over the French aided in the Yankees over the Confederates.  Viva la Mexico!

Toasting her Corona,

Jo’van

May 5, 2013
Categories: Shades of Understanding (Race Relations), The World...As I See It (Everything Else), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: Leave a comment

Eye of the Beholder: Metabolism Is A Dirty Word

Not directly related but it is about slowing down… Enjoy some vintage, pre-Snookie lookalike Christina.

We’re all warned about it. No one should be surprised. Only a select few can hope to avoid it, those who are biologically immune to the inevitable. Although you should be prepared, it will probably start to sneak up on you, gradually killing your…waistline.

Yes, your metabolism will slow down!!! Oh, the (in)humanity!! How dare my body deceive me and decide to showcase the foods I eat and exercise I avoid! Long gone are the days pizza as a late night snack and/or breakfast is a perfectly acceptable idea. Long gone is the bottomless pit stomach or potential modeling career. (Okay, scratch that. I’ve never been THAT skinny and I’ve always loved food.)

While you may not become a hard-core calorie counter or marathon runner, around a certain age, you start to recognize your choices have repercussions. Another reason being a grown-up sucks. You start to feel the need to rationalize (or excuse) your dietary and exercise choices. “If I do this today, I get to/have to do this tomorrow.” “I deserve a treat.” “I’m not supposed to look the way I did at 20. Life has happened.” “But I’m working harder than I used to. This isn’t fair.” and on and on…

Over the last 3-4 years, my metabolism has slowed down, a steady decline. It was time. I was in my mid-twenties, a fitting addition to a quarterlife crisis. And now my body, the thing I just started to figure out and get comfortable with/in, is betraying me. From acne to muffin tops, some of us only get a few “good” years. After that, we start to the painful and annoying process of denying or excusing.

Personally, I’m an excuser. I revolt against the idea of not having the one food I’ve been craving for minutes, hours or days. My cravings are also rather intense. I’ll eat my weight in “healthier” avoidance foods, doing more damage than the original crave, only to give in to the original crave anyway. My only saving grace and reason I’m not currently 400 lbs is the fact that I don’t crave things often. And I like fruits and veggies. Now, don’t get me wrong, there are few things in the world better than fried potato products and ice cream but I believe that most of the time my brain is on my side, or at least on the side of vanity. Sure, health plays a small, pat-yourself-on-the-back part in it but let’s be real, it’s really about vanity.

However, while I am an excuser, I am also an adult, therefore making me a reluctant denier. There are (many) times something like tres leches or avoiding Body Pump sounds like an excellent idea. And then I look at my…slowed body, pick a part. My wasted Gold’s membership is evident in the middle. Sugar and potatoes evident on the arms and legs. I’d even argue my lack of sufficient water intake could be seen in my face and skin. Add a few gray hairs and it’s official, I’m getting older.

I guess metabolism is as dirty a word as thirty or wrinkle. It’s just a part of growing up (Yay!!!). And every time I want to complain about it, I should try to remember the joys I would’ve never experienced if I ceased to exist the day my body started to betray me.

Sure, I can get in shape. It’s just going to be harder than it would’ve been a few years ago. And who wants to do all that work when you can just complain about it and opt for the 4 piece nugget instead of the 6 and congratulate yourself with a cookie?

~Jo’van

February 5, 2013
Categories: Eye of the Beholder (Self-Image), Quarterlife Crisis, Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 17 Comments

The World…As I See It: Facebook – Defeating the Purpose of a Reunion?

Sadly no video from a duet for the ages from the Royals Class of 2002. 😉

Last year, I attended my 10 year high school reunion. While I didn’t expect any real drama, it was still largely/sadly uneventful. Despite the efforts of our two organizers, only about a third of our class showed up for one part or another. But the truly disappointing thing was the near lack of surprises. For the most part, all you needed was a Facebook account and a little time on your hands to “catch-up” via legal cyber stalking.

Apparently foregoing potentially awkward, inconvenient and/or costly reunions in favor of social media is not limited to the Royals class of 2002. School reunion attendance is on the downturn… New York Times story “Remember Me From Yesterday?”

As the graduating class of 2002, my classmates and I were among the early adopters of Facebook. The site, which launched in February 2004 at Harvard but quickly spread across U.S. college campuses, was new, novel and a seemingly better option than MySpace or BlackPlanet. (Remember that? Haha.) In addition, in the beginning you had to have a college/university email address. That alone gave you the impression of exclusivity (and hopefully fewer high school kids and creepy old men lying about…well everything).

After a few months of gentle prodding from an early adopter friend, I signed up near the end of the first semester of my junior year and joined the Facebook “revolution”.

For better or worse, Facebook has been a part of my (near) daily life for 8 years now. Much like iPods perfected/cemented what mp3 players “should be”, Facebook redefined social media. Millions of people cannot go a day – or an hour really… – without making sure they’re not missing out on life as defined by updates, photos and likes.

I both love and hate Facebook for its “magical” connective properties. Facebook, Twitter, instant messaging and texting have made it possible for us both to connect with people we would not normally get to see or talk to and also avoid real, meaningful interactions. Technology has opened the door for the socially awkward and passive aggressive to connect. You never have (or should want) to be more than one click or swipe away from EVERYONE! and their business. (While I recognize Skype and like video conferencing are among similar advances, I see it as more connective than passive. Sometimes it’s simply nice to see the people you’re talking to even if you can’t touch them.)

I’m not going to bemoan the death of our culture. But there have been significant changes, some I like, others I don’t. In the case of my high school reunion, your curiosity could be satisfied on your couch with a smart phone, denying people like me the opportunity to see it in real life. Come on, let’s be honest, people only post the most flattering or hilarious photos of themselves on Facebook. I want to see the trainwrecks and the still-beautiful-10-years-later-so-I-continue-to-hate-yous in person, under harsh lighting. Is that so wrong?

Oh, and of course, I loved seeing my more than Facebook friends (you know the ones whose birthdays I know BEFORE Facebook reminds me) in person. Our small group essentially used a reunion as an excuse to all be home at the same time. Everyone else was just extra. Facebook had already informed us of everything we thought we needed to know about you and your life.

Wondering if we’ll even have a physical 20 year reunion? Perhaps just Skype or FaceTime?

~Jo’van

February 3, 2013
Categories: Friendly Drama (The Ones You Choose), Quarterlife Crisis, The World...As I See It (Everything Else), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: Leave a comment

The World…As I See It: Loyalty Issues

Missy Elliott’s “Work It”

For anyone who’s ever been to a black beautician, time is not on your side.  You perfect the fine art of waiting.  Waiting your turn (appointments are just a guideline).  Waiting for your relaxer, color, roller set, etc.  Waiting under the dryer.  Waiting once the dryer shuts off.  Waiting to be “finished” is the chair.  A basic relaxer for not-quite-shoulder-length-hair can take anywhere from 2 1/2 to 4 1/2 hours.  Since I only have to go every two months, I guess it’s not so bad.

And let’s not even talk about the costs.  Just refer to Chris Rock’s amazing documentary on black women and their hair “Good Hair“.

While most people (women in particular) are sensitive about their hair and who they all touch it.  I would venture to say it’s even more of an issue for black women.  I can’t just walk into the neighborhood Sharp Cuts or the most expensive salon in town.  Not everyone knows how to do black – or more politically correct “ethnic” – hair.  My “perm” is actually a “relaxer”, bleach should NEVER touch my hair, there’s no such thing as a “quick dry”, a bad cut doesn’t last for a few months, more like years (if not decades), and more and more.  Let’s just say it’s more different than not.

With the wait times, costs and difficulty to find trained hairdressers, why further inconvenience yourself when it comes to getting your hair done?

When I moved to Austin, I knew it would not be a “Chocolate City”.  Like with most things (including attending Iowa State and studying abroad in Italy), I adjusted.  People are just people but beauticians are not just beauticians.  I needed a black beautician or at least someone very familiar with “my people’s hair”.

Google and Yelp were of no help.  Eventually, I found a lady who could do the job but it didn’t seem very well.  There was no confidence.  I was coming off of 4+ years with piece-meal care and sporadic salon visits.  I needed someone to help/teach me more than I needed a perm every 8 weeks.

Six months into my Austin experience, our office manager with the most gorgeous, thick, curly long hair became my hair savior and sent me to her hair dresser.  [Cue heavenly chimes]  Teena is awesome, a young expert interested in always learning more.  Easy to talk to, relate to and trust.  Since my first/virgin relaxer 15 years ago (whew, that’s a long time ago), my hair has never been healthier.  While I recognize a lot of that is due to my maturity in caring for my hair and ability to go whenever necessary.  I also credit much of that “hair health” to Teena’s capable hands.

So where do loyalty issues come into play?

Well…her salon is so far away…

When I first started visiting Teena, here salon was 20 miles from my office but only a few miles from my home.  Over the last few years, I have consistently moved further and further away.  She’s now 20 miles from my office and 25 miles from my home.  Understanding the appointment times, distance and traffic, there are simply no convenient times to go.  Every two months, I’m dedicating up to 6 hours just to get a relaxer, i.e. chemically straighten whatever has grown in since the last time, typically 1/2 – 3/4 inch worth.

How do I make this easier?  Easy – Find a closer beautician.  My mom was really good at this.  She hates driving, waiting and paying.  Every 6-9 months (it seemed), she’d find a new faster/cheaper/closer hairdresser.  While there’s nothing wrong with “moving on”, I’m partial to consistency.  However, every time I move further away, I struggle with my mother’s “choose convenience over loyalty” motto.

This latest move unfortunately coincided with Teena’s maternity leave.  My hair was in desperate need of professional attention and she was busy  attending to a new baby.  How selfish… [Sigh]  After an internal struggle trumped by external vanity, I tried a new person two miles from my apartment.

While I felt a little guilty, I decided to try it.  It was a small, well-kept salon and the beautician pleasant and open.  The shop is owned by her sister, another beautician.  The appointment went well and all was gravy…until she made me feel guilty unintentionally.

As part of standard new client inquiries, she asked about why I’d come to her.  I explained that my current/old beautician’s shop was too far away.  “Oh okay”  A few minutes later, she told me about her clients who had driven close to 100 miles to her shop.  (Strangely enough from a very large city to a tiny one.)

While that trip is extreme (and probably only taken by one person a few times), this woman, a stranger, is telling me about her client willing to make that trip.  Yes, that’s crazy.  But this lady obviously appreciates this client’s loyalty and trust.  So what’s every 8 weeks to continue with someone I trust and believe appreciates it?

While I’m thankful to have a more convenient back-up, I’ll head back to Teena when it’s time for another service.  I curse my loyalty issues during the 4-5 hours but praise them 4 weeks later when someone tells me how good my hair looks or Teena comments on how much it’s grown since we started together.

Results over process, right?

Jo’van

March 11, 2012
Categories: The World...As I See It (Everything Else), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: Leave a comment

Shades of Understanding: Blacknowledgement

Carlos Santana featuring Seal “You Are My Kind”

I thought I was being a clever wordsmith but, alas, a Google search has proven me wrong.

UrbanDictionary.com describes  blacknowledgement as “the process by which a Black person acknowledges another black person’s presence in a social environment where black people are scarce or otherwise absent. These environments include places and events like: lacrosse parties, ice hockey games, early morning classes, Russia and The Ku Klux Clan Annual General Meeting.  Blacknowledgement is a show of solidarity and support indicating to another black person that you understand their social anxiety and feel their inner torment.”

Stuff-About.com goes further with “A blacknowledgement can be executed using anything from a simple nod to a well executed six part, click and snap, integrated handshake. In less friendly situations, a blacknowledgement may be used as a territorial gesture. It can be used to signal to another black person that you are the resident black person in that environment and that they should cower off and find non-black friends of their own. Many black people feel that their novelty wears thin when they find out that they are not the “token black person” anymore.”

Whether I agree with these definitions 100% or not, they are the basis and blacknowledgement exists and is prevalent.

I started “realizing” blacknowledgement a few years ago but it’s been a part of my life as far back as I can remember.  When I am in public and see another black person across the room, across the street, in the boardroom or behind the counter, I acknowledge my recognition of their permanent tan.  It’s generally subtle, typically eye contact and a nod will suffice.   But it’s there.  Since I recognize I’m doing it, I’ll try not to go out of my way.  Some people will make it a POINT to go out of their way to reach out to you, especially in professional or large group social settings.  Even though, I may not make giant strides across a room to shake your hand, if you do not at least make eye contact, I feel slighted.  Ridiculous or not.

As I came to “realize” my unconscious blacknowledgement, I tried to figure out how I’d explain it, especially to non-black people.  Why do it?  Who taught me to do it?  Consequences of not doing it?  Really I don’t know.  I imagine it’s truly (good or bad) just acknowledging someone somewhat like you.  Sure you could have different backgrounds and experiences but in whatever situation you’re currently in you’re both at least (if not only) black.  As someone whose professional and social circles do not regularly include many chocolate-hued faces, it is somewhat comforting to see another black person in those groups.  And it doesn’t matter what part of the country you’re in.  I’ve experienced blacknowledgement in Tennessee, Texas, New York City, Chicago, San Francisco and Ames, IA.

How did I learn?  I have absolutely no idea.  No one ever told me to do it or even discussed the phenomenon with me.  I think I just learned by watching the adults in my family and recognizing other people were doing it to me.  Either way, I am a well-established participant in regular blacknowledgement.

I’m not aware of any consequences.  But I’d imagine some people may feel slighted.  For whatever reason, I do at times.  Brown faces in a sea of beige and pink stick out.  No one’s truly THAT race/color-blind.  I know you saw me…

So what are we to learn about/from blacknowledgement?  I’m really not sure.  I don’t see anything intrinsically wrong with acknowledging the other black people around me.  I don’t ignore all non-black people in the same situations.  It’s just an extra.  I imagine I do the same thing when in situations with only one or two more women.  However, for whatever reason, 1.) I’m more often the only African-American than woman, 2.) I’m less uncomfortable as the only woman, and 3.) There is a sense of potential competition with the “other woman” that I can’t say I feel with the “other black”.

I imagine I’ll go on acknowledging my brothers and sisters and laughing a little when I realize I’m doing it.  To further overuse a corporate crutch word, I’m just acknowledging diversity (one type, but diversity just the same).

Is this unique to African-Americans?  Do other ethnicities and/or groups do this?

Acknowledging anyone who read this, black or not,

Jo’van

February 28, 2012
Categories: Shades of Understanding (Race Relations), The World...As I See It (Everything Else), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: Leave a comment

The World…As I See It: Losing Your Voice

Words have power. Of course, I’ve never been able to fully recognize the actual power of the words I use but the potential’s undeniable.  I remember things strangers told me (positive and negative) from age 7 and have been confronted with the impact of things I’d told people (positive and negative) 5 years earlier.  Let’s be honest the negative things have a tendency to stick with you longer…

I began my career as a “creative” in the mid-90s.  (Haha. I sound so old.)  My middle school song writing evolved into high school poetry, college performances of both and blogging in my twenties.  I can’t exactly claim that anything I’ve ever created/written has been good – especially pre-2004 – but I’ve found increasing pleasure in “composing” and finding “acceptance” in “performing” my “pieces”.  All of that is in quotations because I would like to avoid coming off as a prententious poet but either way it’s pretty cool to see friends and strangers alike react (positively) to carefully chosen words expressing some part of yourself.

You don’t have to call yourself a songwriter or a poet in order to be one.  Anyone willing to share  a piece of themself and essentially letting it go deserves some level of recognition.  While all art is relative, I understand thtat some things are good and others just bad.  But I try to respect the effort  (except that of Souljah Boy and Heidi Montag, ugh)

As someone who has “created” for years (15 years makes me a veteran, right?), I began to notice over the last 2+ years that I had less motivation – or maybe just less to say.  My writing has slowly evolved from broad (simple songwriting) to personal (poetry) to borderline narcissistic (blogging).  And while there are still plenty of things I’d like to say, I haven’t found the drive to do so.  I get lazy and wonder who cares anyway?

“Who cares?”  That is probably the most troublesome question any “creative” can ask themselves.  Not that everything that every/anyone could create is amazing but not knowing your audience immediately isn’t such a bad thing.  Unless you’re writing on deadlines or with retainers chasing you, most “creatives” create on their own time, on their own terms.

Now  there’s nothing wrong with wanting to create a piece for a particular audience.  If you have it (or need it), go for it.  But if you only have an idea, chase it.  The human brain is an amazing “thing”.  Your entire life’s experience and observations can be revealed in the subtle connections our minds make to things.  I’d imagine it’s rare an artist’s initial vision is the final outcome.  We often learn as we go along.  A genuine idea can be the hardest thing to find.  When you do, run with it.  Unlike an architect or hairstylist, if a creative has an idea (they’re not being commissioned to develop), that turns out bad or ill-formed, nothing’s been spent but time.  No one else has to know.  No one else really has to judge.  Chalk it up to “not right now” and move on.  I’ve started pieces or ideas that I’ve quit/grown tired/gotten distracted and come back to/been reminded of weeks/months/years later with renewed interest/new perspectives.  The human mind and life experiences and all…

Recently, I’ve begun to wonder if I’ve “lost” my voice.  I think I’d just quit/grown tired/gotten distracted from my entire creative side.  I used to write about my recent drama’s, undiscovered loves and exaggerated heartbreaks.  However, about the time my creative side quieted, life simply got more real.  Layoffs, lost friendships, work struggles and successes, romantic failures and learning real love.  I’m in a good place which can be fodder for great new pieces or unspoken contentment.  But who really wants to be unspoken?

The spark’s been reignited.  With my ashes for lent, I’ll just roll with this momentum, wherever it leads me.

Sincerely yours,

Jo’van

February 22, 2012
Categories: The World...As I See It (Everything Else), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 1 Comment

Romantic Cynic: What Daria Thinks About Valentine’s Day

I saw this post today and had to share.

Daria Morgendorffer

Philosopher and former TV star

MTV’s Daria Morgendorffer Tells Us What She Thinks About Valentine’s Day

Glenn Eichler developed and served as executive producer for the MTV series “Daria.”

As told to Glenn Eichler…

I always just assumed that when the inevitable happened and The Huffington Post finally begged me to write for them, I’d take a cue from my fellow celebrities and blog about an international humanitarian issue dear to my heart. Golf Clubs for Orphans, that sort of thing. And yet here I am being asked to write about Valentine’s Day, I suppose because they thought my somewhat low tolerance for sentimentality would make it amusing. You know, like having a bond trader write about basic human decency. And it’s true that sappiness leaves me cold. I remember being invited to a birthday party as a child, watching a video of the movie E.T., and being the only five-year-old in the room who booed when the bug-eyed little freak’s heart started back up. Come to think of it, that’s the only birthday party I remember being invited to as a child.

But Valentine’s Day is by no means my least favorite holiday. For instance, just five weeks ago on January 6th, we had the Christian feast day of Epiphany. I can’t stand Epiphany, because the whole day I feel like I should be having one. Yet when it’s all over and the sun goes down, my sister makes no more sense than she did when it came up. Some mysteries are too big for epiphanies, and Rosetta Stone doesn’t make a Gibberish edition.

At least Epiphany is a real holiday, though, and not one of those phony ones Hallmark came up with to sell cards, like Administrative Professionals Day or Friendship Day or Clergy Appreciation Day or my mother’s birthday. Hey, Hallmark, I’ve got an idea for a new card-sending occasion: “National Hallmark Comes Up With A Card Whose Insipidness Doesn’t Make You Retch Day.” We can celebrate it every year on the 33rd of Nevruary.

As a kid, by the way, my favorite holiday was May Day. Not because of the crocuses peeping their heads up or any of that crap, but because I would wake before dawn, tiptoe down the hall to my parents’ bedroom, throw the door open so it banged against the wall and yell, “MAYDAY! MAYDAY!” Then I’d consult my watch to see how many seconds it took my father to realize the bed hadn’t been hit by a German torpedo and it was okay to crawl out from under it. Man, that never got old. Unlike my father, who for some reason seems to be aging prematurely.

Anyway, my point is that I don’t have anything against Valentine’s Day. In fact, I think it’s kind of cute. If couples want to surprise each other with flowers and chocolates and dinners and jewelry and pharmaceutical-grade ecstasy, accompanied by heart-shaped cards reading “I love you more than life itself and [your transgression here] will never happen again,” more power to them. Some say the day just forces us into a spiral of anxiety; unable to articulate our feelings, we try to compensate with cards and gifts and uncomfortable new positions that, honestly, don’t show either one of you in your best light. I say it can’t hurt for Americans to be reminded once a year of their basic lack of eloquence. Then maybe they’ll shut up when they’re sitting behind me at the movies.

Besides, Valentine’s Day always precedes one of my absolute favorite holidays, February 15th, “National Half-Off Every Piece of Red-Foil-Wrapped Sugary Crap in CVS Day,” the day I really get out there and do my bit for America’s economy. (And before you fire off your angry tweetmails, I’m well aware that February 15th is also Susan B. Anthony Day, when schoolkids learn about women’s suffrage, except in Texas where they learn about America’s proud heritage of uncirculated dollar coins).

And I myself am not utterly without romance. I am seeing someone right now — I’d rather not give any details, except to say proudly that he does not wear a house-arrest anklet — and he and I are planning a traditional holiday celebration. Tonight we’re going door to door in Santa hats, caroling “Good King Wenceslas” at the top of our lungs.

That ought to liven up a few candlelit dinners.

February 14, 2012
Categories: Romantic Cynic (Love And Lookalikes), The World...As I See It (Everything Else) . Tags: , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 1 Comment

Shades of Understanding: Made for White America

One of my favorite groups performing one of my favorite songs live.  I miss talent being a pre-requisite. (And they were pretty nice to look at too.  Let’s just be honest.  That helped a lot.)

En Vogue – “Free Your Mind”

Growing up, your parents raise/groom/train you to be certain ways.  No, we’re not animals but we are guided by our parents, either by the things they do or don’t do, tell us or don’t tell us.  There are plenty exceptions to the rules but the goal of most parents is to protect and “properly” raise their kids.  Equip and encourage them with the tools and confidence they’ll need to achieve their goals.  These are all noble aspirations.

Beyond the (hopeful) comfort of home, every person has certain things they feel are important to their child’s ability to effectively navigate the outside world.  Some things are somewhat universal (i.e. traffic laws, waiting in line, “please” ,”Yes ma’am”/”No, sir”, etc).  But for each parent, there are rules of life that are more specific to their life experiences, whether those experiences were shaped by gender, race, religion, class, etc.  Whether your parent believes in the superiority (or inferiority) of one group over another, most will try to equip their child for other people’s view on the matter.  For me growing up, while gender played a small role, my difference was my race.  Being black meant a lot more than requiring the brown crayon instead of the peach or being less likely to sunburn.  (Seriously, I was 21 before I had my first sunburn and I only noticed when I started to peel.)

As a brown baby, I was given a collection of “other” rules to make it easier to operate in world not designed or “run” by people who looked like me (or necessarily valued looking like me).  Now, I was taught and understood that white people were not “the” or an enemy.  They were just the people who could make my life especially difficult.  Of course that understanding has evolved with age and experience but things were relatively simple for a nine-year-old black girl growing up in the not-so-reformed South in the 90s.

A few examples:

  • Persona: Stealing/Shoplifting is bad.  And while I may not be doing anything wrong, I will be watched.  Advice: Never open or mess around in your bag while in a store.  Preferably zip/close it before you walk in.
  • Image: You should love yourself and how God made you.  But we press/straighten our hair before we go see God in church on Sundays.  Sunday Best meant straight hair (among other things…)
  • Image: Also “professional” women and beautiful little girls have straight hair.  DON’T mess up your hair!
  • Language: Whatever slang you use at home cannot be used in public.  It’s just not right and other/white people will think you’re not smart.  (This was well before the ebonics as a language debate.)
  • Persona: Watch your temper.  People will be afraid of you and be unable to explain why.  You will have to be more patient, more forgiving and more resilient.
  • School/Professional: Grades will not speak for themselves.  You may have to work twice as hard for people to consider you to be just as good.  God forbid you ever be better/smarter…
  • School/Professional: Also, don’t ever give anyone the opportunity to accuse you of cheating (along the same lines as stealing).  You’ll be a suspect before blond Suzy.  Prove them wrong.
  • And many more…

There are a lot of little things that help black kids understand that while they may be equal according to God and an amended constitution, in the eyes of many people who hold the keys to their comfort and/or success, they may not be.  More importantly, people invested in their success (and mental health) work to teach those kids how to navigate the waters and handle the less than choice situations.  I’ve been called names, physically assaulted, ignored, picked on, offended and completely avoided because you can’t see my veins and I could pull off dreads.  In elementary school, a teacher pulled me out of the gifted program because no black student had qualified.  She felt I needed to be retested if I was to continue in it.  I was asked by a little girl on the bus, “Who rolled you in the mud when you were born?”  (Lovely, right?)  A librarian in a small midwestern town I was visiting questioned if I was actually reading the books I was checking out or just carrying them.  I’ve watched store owners watch me as I watched other less tan people happily slip objects into their bags.  In college, I was attacked on campus because of two things: 1.) I was black and 2.) he was drunk.  However with everything, I am very fortunate and thankful I was born black in the 80s rather than anytime sooner.  We are evening out.  Eventually everyone will be a little more tan.  I apologize in advance to the sunscreen companies.

My point is not that life (at least mine) is terrible.  It’s jut life.  We all have prejudices and -isms we’re subject to.  For me, black, female and middle class quickly sum it up.  There are good and bad, defeating and empowering things about just about any label I could give myself.  My point is that my parents, family, teachers, friends all worked to shape and prepare me for the status quo.  I’ll never be thin, pale, blond or blue-eyed.  BUT I can be molded in ways to make my differences less offensive to those fitting those descriptions.  I’ve been packaged in a way that might make it easier for WASPs (White Anglo-Saxon Protestants) to accept.

Throughout my life, I’ve been described as an oreo – black on the outside, white on the inside.  I’ve been told I’m the smartest (0r only smart) black person someone has met.  Been described as being a very white black person (as if that’s a thing, let alone a good thing).  Asked why I speak so well.  Been told I am (surprisingly) respectful.  Informed my neck doesn’t move nearly as much or my voice doesn’t get as loud as some (of my) people.  Been seen as an “exception”.

As sad (or infuriating) as all of those things may be, they probably make all of the people who worked so hard to prepare me for the “real” world very proud on a private, painful, never-to-be-openly-discussed level.  I was born in America, raised (mostly) in Black America and “Made” for White America.

Living in Fill in the Blank America now,

Jo’van

November 27, 2011
Categories: Family Values (The Ones You Don't Choose), Shades of Understanding (Race Relations), The World...As I See It (Everything Else), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: Leave a comment

Romantic Cynic: The Relationship15

I couldn’t resist.  The song I wish a man I love could sing/say to me and mean AND Miss Piggy and Kermit!!!!

Musiq Soulchild’s “Don’t Change”

When we go off to college, we quickly learn about the famed “Freshman 15”.  Supposedly, the first year you’re away from home, you’re supposed to stop eating vegetables (because your mother’s not making you) and pledge to exist on pizza and beer (bought by cooler, older juniors and seniors or the weird kid down the hall with a fake ID).  This waist enlarging myth was recently debunked by researchers at Ohio State.  (Refer to the NYTimes) According to the study, first-year students gain on average 3 lbs.  15 is an extreme exaggeration.  Heavy drinkers gain more (lite beer, anyone?…) and students with a job tend to gain less (other priorities and possible movement beyond reaching for the phone with Pizza Hut on speed dial).  Makes sense, right?  Ok, a myth debunked.

Besides college, the other time of great weight gain (non-pregnant) people my age discuss or consider a given is what I’m terming the “Relationship 15”.  (The 15 is not necessarily part of the general description but it’s a rough estimate for my recent gain.)    Supposedly when you get into a long-term relationship, it’s very likely that your happiness will be visible in your growing wasitline.  (This is also something said for recent newlyweds.)

There are a number of possible reasons for the “more of you to love”:

1.) Keeping Up Bite for Bite – Sometimes when on dates or out with friends, it’s tempting to keep up with your significant other bite for bite.  When you first start dating, it may be tempting to order a salad and appreciate your favorite pair of Spanx.  After all we like to put our best, manicured, permed, new outfitted, stiletto-ed foot forward.  A few months in and fried cheesesticks and sweatpants might be sounding pretty good.

2.) Indulgent Meals – Dates often give us an excuse to eat the things we want.  When you go out with friends, the favorite, cheap restaurant or dish might be your goal.  If you’re anything like my friends and I, you want it to be good but may not be ready to drop $50+ to hang out with friends.  Some people (i.e. I) use dates as the perfect way to try that new restaurant.  If you’re going somewhere new, you might be tempted to try whatever grabs your interest or the house specialty.  Get dressed up, order wine, make it an occasion.

3.) Alcohol – Along the same lines of indulgent meals, increased alcohol consumption might add a few ounces to your pounds.  While you may struggle to justify having a beer or glass of wine by yourself, having someone to share that new or favorite might be the perfect excuse to indulge.

4.) Heart to Stomach Key – The old saying “the way to a man’s heart is through is stomach” is debatable but embraced just the same.  When I was single, I cooked “good” meals when I craved them or had a particular occasion to plan for.  As a woman in a relationship, I’m more tempted to consider making more “real” meals; meat and potatoes, more than a shake or a salad.  There’s also a desire to impress.  I was never grown up enough to host or attend “dinner parties”.  With a man, there could be a “dinner party” everyone night if I had the available patience and groceries.  (Although, I will not be cooking or cleaning by myself.  That’s an entirely different post for a later time…)

5.) Adopting Bad Habits – The more time you spend with someone, the more traits you (can) pick up from them.  Eating habits are just one of them.  If you have a problem with restraint but your significant other likes to have options on hand, chances are their supplies will dwindle while your pant size increase.  If your significant other eats light and early but you enjoy late, full, heavy meals, you may see your other getting  a little more bootylicious. Etc…

6.) Workouts Interfering with Cuddling – When you’re in a good relationship, it’s normal to want to spend as much time with that person as possible.  I’m not condoning anti-social behavior but wanting to cuddle rather than doing most things you do to fill up your time is understandable.  There are many reasons to workout including vanity, control, to fill up time and because over all health is important to you (ugh).  If you’re like me and it was a mix of some of these things, a comfortable relationship can get in the way.  You’d rather be with that person than alone on a run or at the gym.

7.) Loss of Motivation – For some, working out is a means to looking good which is a means to attracting a man/woman.  Once you’ve secured a “good one”, working hard to maintain whatever you had may not seem all that important.  In the same way, cute little dresses and heels give way to sweatpants and slippers, steady workouts can give way to questioning your gym fees.

8.) Emotional Eater – Relationships can be good and bad.  If you’re an emotional eater and things aren’t all pretty pictures, eating your feelings can make you feel temporarily better until you realize you’re still unhappy and you’ve begun trying to justify elastic waistbands to yourself.

Now no one just beat themselves up for putting on a little extra weight.  If you still feel confident and your other still thinks you’re sexy, embrace the little extra and move on.  Having more than you wanted in some places can be forgiven for having more than you hoped for in others.  Think on that…
But a little is not one or two (or three or four) pant sizes for me personally.  Physical attraction often plays a big part of the inital formation of new relationships.  While a relationship built on love and devotion can be hard to shake, a dramatic weight gain in a few months time could probably still hurt.  Thinking you’re getting one thing and being handed something else a little while later can make some people reconsider the whole thing.  And that goes for more than just weight, people.
Do what you have to do in your relationship.  But if you’re unhappy with your current physique and believe your relationship may an underlying cause, make it a point to figure something else out.  Ask for encouragement, explain your concerns, figure out if you can be workout buddies and above all else don’t stop being the you you want to be because someone else loves you.  If they really love you for you, they’ll understand the importance of taking care of you (mentally or physically, whatever your motivation).
Despite writing this post while digesting a Thanksgiving dinner/platter, still getting very fed up with her Relationship 15 (or 18 if we’re really being honest),
Jo’van

November 24, 2011
Categories: Eye of the Beholder (Self-Image), Romantic Cynic (Love And Lookalikes), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: Leave a comment

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