Just Add Water

So yesterday I was able to do my grocery shopping at one of the nearby co-ops and it was a wonderful experience, and I truly could have wandered around for hours looking at the bulk spices, nuts, granola etc, but my companions were not equally intrigued. But really, I bought bulk soy sauce and balsamic vinegar! Who knew you could do that?! But I grabbed a little tub, filled it with as much as I wanted, and paid by the pound. I paid $.18 for the amount of sage I wanted instead of buying a whole bottle. This was just amazing to me.

While I have long been interested by the idea of sustainable and organic grocery shopping, I have never made the effort to go somewhere besides the Cub/Rainbow/Target market, but my Gender Labor Politics class pushed me to try. For one I can get extra credit by doing a cost analysis of my grocery bill, but also a discussion about food politics made me really think about food and why I eat what I do.

We have reached a point where we expect to buy whatever groceries we want whenever we want it, therefore we want produce out of season. This means extraneous measures are being taken around the world to make sure someone is producing corn for January and and for July (switched seasons). More and more food is being genetically modified so some people can make a bigger profit. Animals are caged up so tightly they cannot move and pumped full of antibiotics to combat the diseases they get from standing in their own feces, and people put up with it because it's cheaper.

There's a sense of false consciousness prevailing over our culture concerning food. We need food so there's no way to strike against it like the garment workers of Forever 21, so we distance ourselves from the process. We refuse to think about slaughterhouses and chemically "enhanced" meat and vegetables. We ignore that corn grown by farmers can no longer be eaten because it is hard and disgusting, but has to be processed into corn syrup and fed to livestock. We keep asking for food that is bigger and better than it is naturally supposed to be, so the producers make it happen.

On top of eating chemically and genetically modified foods, we exist off of
preservatives. Instead of mashing delicious russet potatoes we buy a box of Four-Cheese Mashed Potatoes, just add water! How lazy do we have to be that we now subsist off "just add water" groceries? Instead of making a healthy meal we pop something in the microwave - something that is full of preservatives and who knows what else so that all we have to do is nuke for 30 seconds. Then it comes out and it doesn't even look good but you eat it anyway and really just end up dissatisfied all around, so it's not like eating frozen food wins any points there. Sure it's fast, but it's gross.

Most of the ingredients and processes behind the food we eat is completely hidden from our view. Look at a granola bar and try to find out where those oats came from. It is impossible. At a certain point you cannot trace your food back any farther and you are asked to trust the company they are getting it safely and ethically. You are asked to trust that a certain amount of insects in your peanut butter is ineffectual. You are asked to trust that "Free Range" chickens are actually allowed to walk around when that is nowhere near the truth. Food politics are all about a separation between the producer and the consumer, but not only a separation - indeed there is a big black curtain keeping the two apart so that the latter know nothing about the truths of the former.

The problem lies of course, in the cost of eating organically and ethically. That choice is more expensive because in order to produce more ethically, most has to be spent. It costs more to keep a few chickens in a pen they can walk around in than to cram a whole bunch of chickens in that same space, and that cost is transferred to the consumer. This choice is an easy one to make until cost is factored in. Theoretically everyone prefers the more ethical choice, but practically not everyone wants to spend the extra money. I paid $3.49 for eggs which I could get for around $1.39 at Target, yet because I went in with a list for my planned recipes for the week, I still spent less that I normally do.

Food from a box that just requires some added water and a couple minutes in the microwave may be cheaper, but I know where my groceries came from - 42% was grownlocally, and I know there are no hidden "ingredients." While I may not be able to promise I will stop eating anything from a box or a can, this feels like such a positive decision I plan to make every effort to eat organically and ethically. It is the easy choice.

As a poor college student I want to make the ethical move, and I think I can make it work for my budget. Shopping for ingredients requires more planning; I cannot just walk down the aisle and grab a few boxes for my meals that week, but have to know ahead of time what I need which means less spending on food I will not actually eat. Plus the food I can make with these delicious ingredients is so much tastier than Mac 'n Cheese or Lean Cuisine. How could I possibly make any other decision? They always say the first step is the hardest, and most of the time that first step is just deciding to make a change.

People Person

As I get closer and closer to my trip to France, and as I look at the pictures all my friends are posting, abroad or not, I realize more and more that there is a right and wrong way to take pictures. Normally, I do not consider
myself much of a people person. I do not like meeting lots of people at once, I do not like talking in a group, and I am very shy and quiet until I feel comfortable to actually be me. I need to be alone a lot. I would prefer to sit at home with my cat and a book than go to a loud crazy party with a few of my friends. I love my friends and I love spending time with them, but when it comes to making new friends I take a while.

That being said, when I take pictures I take pictures of people. Ten years from now, I will not care about that lion at the zoo, or that flower in a field, or that weird statue. This past weekend I found some pictures I took at horse camp years and years ago (I still had my glasses that took up my whole face, that's how old these are) as I was going through drawers of old things; I had to choose between those to be saved, those to be donated, and those that deserved to be thrown away long ago, yet were kept because of my former packrat identity. The pictures I kept showed me with people from camp, and the horse I spent the week with (because clearly Cheyenne was more person than random object or animal). I threw pictures of the other animals, sure deer and rabbits are cool; pictures of hills and trees, because those aren't everywhere; and pictures of the rooms and bunk beds, for one camp bunk bed is really the same as the rest.


For me, pictures are about moments in time, represent a way to recall the happiness of that moment as a way to relive all those wonderful feelings. They show my friends and the way we spend our time. You do not need to go on a trip to take pictures because there are joyful moments every day, and a few that are lucky enough to get captured on film.

There is no joy in a bunk bed; without the rest of the film I would have no idea where that bunk bed was from. A picture of myself and other campers on the other hand, while I no longer remember most of their names and wish I had labeled them, brings up memories of those ugly shirts, singing churchy campy songs, buying candy and playing foosball in the common area (this camp was where I played my epic 30-8 game against two people), and playing capture the flag around the ranch. These girls became close friends for this week spent away from our families as we all searched for a way to fit into a new environment.

I learned quickly that pictures of animals, , and landscapes do not interest me after developing the random disposable cameras throughout my youth. 10 years later I may not care about that lion on a rock, but I will care about that trip to the zoo; if there is a picture with my sister and a lion, that picture has some redeeming qualities. While I make some exceptions for artistic photography, I think those pictures should be kept separate from the rest because they serve entirely different purposes, and I will not take those pictures.

Pictures are about capturing a moment, not about capturing an object, so I take pictures of people. I take pictures of people and moments in time so I can look back and remember that ridiculous game night, that delectable dinner, and that relaxing vacation. Pictures allow you to re-experience moments and recall things that are insignificant in the grand scheme of life, but looking back you remember having the time of your life. Picking the pictures for this post made for easy choices, because I know what times I like to remember, and
know which pictures epitomize those days. Now I am just sitting here smiling thinking about the car ride to Thanksgiving, the Christmas spent with the boyfriend's family, Sister Day, the cabin trip, Stooge Week, Prom, winter break, freshmen year with the SAD lamp, and Padelford. Each picture has a story, not only of itself, but of the entire day and experience. Pictures capture a moment and make for wonderful memories, and in memories, people are what matter.

Not Alone in Anger

While engaged in my regular perusing of my favorite blog site at Feministing, I found a post that is dealing with the issue of anger which I touched on in my post this afternoon. I share this to prove I am not the only one trying to figure out how to express my feminist ideas in a world where "feminist" is is associated with "feminazi," but also because if anyone else is dealing with the same problem - self censorship - some of the comments are helpful. Our society has an obsession with finding what "normal" is, and I am happy to report my reaction is normal!

Thinking Radically, Judging Critically

My college experience has forced me to think critically about numerous aspects of life; I won't go so far as to suggest I have thought about everything because I find myself thinking about new things every week during my Gender, Labor, Politics class (this week for example is food and the political economy). As an extension of this process, I have looked at myself critically as well. I grew up as a perfectionist, and I'd like to think I grew out of that to a point, where I can appreciate perfection, but do not require it and as such am much more satisfied with my accomplishments and results. As a perfectionist however, I find myself extremely critical and judgmental (which I am sure comes across in my writing). I make snap judgments about ideas, people, places, actions etc, but I am not unwilling to change those judgments, so I do not find this practice entirely harmful. However, I tend to speak my mind more quickly than not and almost always fail to censor myself for my audience. By this I mean I snap at people easily who oppose my opinion if it lies within my passions, and I tend to speak/write passionately which also often means I do so offensively. While I realize this, I always realize it too late after I have riled up whomever I am speaking to. What a dilemma. My blog is only feeding this problem because everything I write here is very raw, and virtually just a train of thought that I can only attempt to keep on topic. Improving this flammable aspect of my personality will probably be a lifelong quest

On top of being critical, I am finding myself to be more and more radical in my opinions. This is a problem because much of my family is conservative (whether self-declared or not) as well as many of my long-term friends. In college I tend to drift towards similar thinkers like myself, but inevitably I maintain contact with people with opposing viewpoints (and thank God for diversity!). I have discovered that some of my opinions are very upsetting for some of these people. For example, I think government health care is long overdue (huzzah for the vote passed yesterday!!!), I think our capitalist system is corrupt and exploitative, I think abortion is a woman's undeniable right, I think marriage is an antiquated institution which privileges heterosexual couples and maintains patriarchy, and I think the church deserves absolutely no place in our legal system. Apparently some of these thoughts are radical.

I say apparently because in my classes, these viewpoints are the status quo. My classes are full of young men and women viewing the world through a feminist lens. By this I refer to modern feminism which is no longer merely the search for gender equality, but has expanded to have political meaning as well, which is a large part of the reason it is so hard to define feminism - it is not just about women! It is for this reason I am surprised to find opposing thoughts because I am constantly surrounded by liberal thinkers. While I appreciate the existence of opposing thoughts (however much they may upset me), I love my liberal companions.

I love that there is a niche where like-minded people like myself come together and have open dialogues about issues too many people find controversial and unsettling. We are not afraid to critique society, and we are not afraid to speak out against the majority opinion. I treasure this sacred space I have found and only wish I could remain in college forever because once I leave I will be bombarded by the opposition and by those who are not ready for change. It will not be long before I am yearning for a group who longs to revolutionize nearly every aspect of society in order to end exploitation and inequality.

Mommy and Me

So I wrote this on Monday and didn't post it because I wanted to wait to get home where I had a picture of my mom to add. Unfortunately I only have older pictures and neither of us resemble this anymore.

Today is International Women’s Day; what a wonderful month filled with recognizing the achievements of women everywhere! I’d like to recognize the greatest role model in my life: my mother. While I date my feminist wake-up call to my freshman year of college, my mom instilled gender equality in my values since I was young. She has always been a model of a strong woman, helped my find my values and morals, and encouraged my success in all aspects of my life.

My favorite example of this is my old book of nursery rhymes. I did not grow up reading Mother Goose, but read instead the rhymes of Father Gander. These rhymes eliminated the gender and racial inequalities inherent in Mother Goose, and also rid them of violence. Humpty Dumpty was put back together by all the king’s horses, women, and men and Jack and Jill learned how to get up the hill safely. And my personal favorite rhyme: Jack be nimble Jack be quick, Jack jump over the candle stick. Jill be nimble jump it too, it Jack can do it, so can you! Then I got to preschool and kindergarten and everything and was told I knew the wrong rhymes: Humpty Dumpty cannot be put back together, Jack and Jill fall , get hurt, and fail their task, and Jill cannot do anything. What a sad state of affairs.

Looking back at my adolescent years I laugh at how much I resented the boundaries and rules she set for me. I’d whine and complain about how my other friends could watch R-rated movies and stay out later or have boys over and end up so mad. Now I can appreciate what her rules did for me. People crave boundaries, and if we do not get them we act out and rebel until we find the breaking point—find the action that pushes our parents over the edge. Children need rules and thrive on them. The kids whose parents let them stay out late and do whatever they wanted do not end up as strong, stable, independent adults. I won’t make generalizations about what does result, but it’s a fair assessment that across the board, the results are not ideal. I applaud my mother for having the strength to assert her parental guidance.

My mom and I agree on many subjects, but even when we disagree we can still have an intelligent conversation about whichever topic is at hand, and we can talk for hours. We have a similar sense of humor, and as anyone who has ever been in the same room with us knows, we have the same distinct laugh. It is so refreshing to have this close relationship with my mom and to know I can go to her with my problems once I decide to deal with them myself. She sometimes tells me things I don’t want to hear, but I respect her all the more for it.

There is no way for me to truly do this marvelous woman justice because I could never enumerate all the ways she has affected my life. I attribute the person I have become (whom I am largely satisfied with!) to not only the values she gave me, but the space she gave me to grow. She encouraged my independence yet never left me feeling alone. She always sets up the ideal for me, but lets me go about it my own way and make my own choices and mistakes.

My mother is beautiful, intelligent, strong, opinionated, and wise. She loves chocolate, babies, cats, and crossword puzzles. She has a wonderful laugh and smile. She knows so many things about so many subjects; she is the definition of well-rounded! She uses hand-sanitizer and makes sure there is some available at group gatherings. What can I even say except she is my mom, she’s fabulous, and I love her.

Don't be an iDiOtTtT

Today I was browsing through blogs in hopes of stumbling upon something of interest. I found some random humorous posts, but nothing worth following regularly. I do not care about random people's weddings and their attempts at pregnancy, or meals they are trying to cook. Reading about the lives of people I know is one thing, but not all random people have interesting things to say.

That being said, what really made me click to the next blog was poor grammar, spelling, and writing in general. The most annoying blog being this one. I understand random spelling mistakes will make their way into writing, especially in blogs where little to no editing takes place. So fine, I cut you some slack. Neither do I care deeply about ending a sentence with a preposition or the misplacement of a comma. However, do not fail to capitalize "I," do not write LiKe ThIs, do not add extra lettersss, or leave out vwls. These make no sense! Saying "heyy" does not make me feel like you are more excited to say hello to me; it looks like a typo and you look like an idiot.

I have a problem with idiots. Some idiots cannot spell, some idiots are chauvinistic, some idiots fall over drunk, some idiots pick fights, some idiots use 50 coupons for items they did not purchase. Some people just don't know anything. Idiots are found everywhere; this is very disheartening. After working in retail, I realized how stupid people really can be; customers really represent the epitome of stupidity, and my Target friends and I could (and do) rant for hours about our "guests" and their issues. Come to think of it that really should have been its own entry, but oh well. During my blog browsing, I came across this blog where the author comments on latin tattoos, and also makes a critique on the people who seek them.

I was also struck by the stupidity of some people after reading the "anti-feminist mailbag" on Feministing. This section is basically the hate-mail these women receive, and based upon my brief foray, is made up of ignorant comments. Luckily the Feministing women have a sense of humor and add fabulous commentary; they really are wonderful people.

Everyone needs to rant once in a while, this was my outlet.

Writing Women Back into History

Say hello to the beginning of Women’s History month! The theme for this month is “Writing Women Back into History;” if you want information visit the National Women’s History Project. I find this topic especially interesting because women’s history has often been ignored – both contemporarily and historically. During my studies of Ancient Egypt, I was intrigued by the roles of power women made for themselves (e.g. Nefertiti and Hatshepsut – both of whom [most likely] dressed as men and took on a male persona in order to assert their rule), yet research is difficult because the actions of women were not significant enough to record alongside those of the pharaohs and pyramids. This is a common theme wherein minority history simply isn’t recorded because it is “not important.” Remember that snide comment that history is written by the winners? This is especially visible when trying to find information about minor players who find themselves a minority for whatever reason – class, race, sex, war.

Since the sexual revolution of the 1960s-70s, there has been greater emphasis on the role of women throughout history as their experiences were invariably different from those of men. Scholars are searching for that invisible tale woven between the published wars and politics of men, for the obscured achievements of women as they try to exist in a male-dominated world. Women are not silent participants in history and they are finally getting back their voice as this month brings to mind the contributions women have made to all fields such as politics, sports, science, literature, and art.

Part of Women's History month is Talk Like a Feminist Today which I already mentioned is tomorrow!! Grrrl power!