Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Ash's Random Tidbit of the Week: Richard C. Miller

Richard C. Miller
(August 6, 1912-)
Photographer

I often wonder how people who were so incredible in their heigh-day can fade so easily into a very under-appreciated obscurity.
Imagine,somewhere...somewhere in the United State (I'm incl
ined to think New York), there is a ninety-eight year old living legend who has brushed elbows with the likes of James Dean and Marilyn Monroe--who was in demand during Hollywood's Golden Age.
This man is Richard C. Miller.
What fascinated me the most, I suppose, about coming upon him randomly as I strolled through the web yesterday...is that he was, perhaps, one of the very first to witness the transformation of Norma Jean Baker into the character she would play for the rest of her life--Marilyn Monroe.

This is incredibly intriguing to me, as I am an avid fan of old school Hollywood in general...in his photographs you can see the untutored beauty
of a young woman--who has yet to be touched by the hand of fame.

Haunting, and fascinating, Miller recalled "She was very nice when she was Norma Jean, very sweet. She came to dinner at the house. A nice, friendly girl...She's quite different now."


His photographs of James Dean, likewise, represent the boldness of his rugged character...yet, the advent of his youth.
Mr. Miller, who was particular friends with Dean, was devastated at the news of his tragic death at the age of twenty-four.















His ulterior portraits, also, express his true merit as an artist.


Today, Miller lives with his daughter Jan.
He is occasionally asked to present his work as exhibits.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Hi. Lets Assume You Know My Life Story--Brit



I get this from time to time. I am working at the front desk of my job doing my thing--taking phone calls (and the occasional checking of the email and I guess to every ones assumptions *GASP* facebooking? NO!) helping clients, getting the fax, buzzing attorneys when their clients have arrived 45 minutes late. There comes a time when there is always that ONE person who thinks its appropriate to ask me that one question I despise. Let me break it down for you.

Client: "Oh how long have you lived in the valley?"
Me: "All my life."
Client: "Oh wow I've lived here for a few years."
Me: "Mhmm."
Client. "Let me guess one of those?" -- she glances back at the news paper as if it was nothing.
Me: "Excuse me?" --Me very perplexed.
Client: "Oh you know--stayed home because of a baby." at this point my cheeks are flushed not out of embarrassment but out of sheer anger. But I quickly played it off with a sweet smile and said.
Me: "Haha. No. I actually take care of my Grandfather, AND I am a full time college student."
Client: "OHHH realllllllllly? Well good for you!" and that is the end of that.

See after telling the truth, and proving them wrong that I am NOT a "Conway Casualty" (I have dubbed this saying meaning someone who is a nobody or with NO education what so ever or with a few kids, no jobs and all they do is bitch bitch BITCH about how much they hate their life.) I am very shocked that this always seems to come out of "rich folks" mouth as well. Excuse me. I know that I may seem like a wee little peon but everybody needs to start from somewhere. But what I don't get or except is that people decide to judge and assume my life story. Fine, ask but you will be disappointed that I am not what you think I am all because I am still in the same town that I have grown up in.

I am 21 years old. I am kind of content with my life. I enjoy the simple things in life, and one of them happens to be the creature comforts of home. I have my Grandfather -- who is my world. I also found found love with my goober. I am sorry that I didn't go off to a college campus like the majority of the kids I went to school with but its also cheaper to stay home. It is not to say that I am not ever going to leave. Oh yes I will. When I am good a freakin' ready thanks. I think that the next time someone like THAT asks me if I have a baby I am going to ask how thick their wallet is and if they would like to donate for their stupidity.

Granted I will admit I can't even count on my fingers and toes anymore the kids I have gone to school with, who aren't doing anything with themselves. Why? Their own personal reason or another. I have learned that I have the power to make myself happy which goes for everyone else. There isn't a "I can't do this." it seems more like "I don't feel like it." Its hard today not to have a college degree to get a job anymore. Unless you want to stock shelves at walmart for 8 bucks. Try filling your freezer with food (or beer.) and still pay things off. Education is key. Get it. Use it. More and more kids today aren't trying. My question on that is Where are the parents? I know for a fact I would hate to be a 45 year old Grand Ma. How embarrassing would it be to go to the store with the toddler and someone asks "oh my gosh your daughter is sooooo cute." the reply "Oh not she's my granddaughter." Ya. like that's not going to raise an eyebrow or two when told.

Here's my to do list:
1. Graduate college. Year around 2013-- age : 24
2. Own a house/get married age. 25-26
3. Baby. Age 27

Ya. I have goals. Thanks.

Kids are great....as long as they are someone else's...for now.

So moral of the story. Don't assume you know my life story. Think about it.


Sunday, August 29, 2010

Ash: The Modern Cajun-American Woman


I'm more or less certain when one thinks of the word "Cajun", they begin with a rather unflattering image of a toothless personage in overalls, missing a sensible number of teeth. If they wish to elaborate, perhaps they add an alligator to the picture--or, perchance, a shabby looking cabin in the backdrop of a morose-looking swamp.

Alas, mes amis, take a good hard look at me, and compare me to your stereotype...

Because I am Cajun-American.

A lot of people can and will judge a book by it's cover, and a lot of the time people don't really know how to react whenever they ask my heritage, and I tell them plainly. I'm sure they're wondering what's the pride in being a member of a rare North American sub-culture. I'm sure they were thinking that I look relatively normal in comparison to their natural idea.

Firstly, you're probably wondering what's a Cajun anyway?

To make a long, long history quite short, "Cajun" is actually a word that describes the descendants of the French Acadians.
The French Acadians were people who had migrated to what is modern-day Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and Prince Edward Island from France to seek political and religious freedoms. They were sort of like the American patriots of their time. They developed advancements in agriculture and harvesting that were singularly unique for their primitive way of living. They created flourishing communities, and traded and cohabited with Indian natives.
However, they were living on British land. When the British began hearing rumors that the Acadians were having amazing harvests and thriving economically, they decided to remove them.

Thus began the Grand Dérangement.

Basically, the British came to the Acadian settlements, and gave them an ultimatum. If the Acadians swore allegiance to the British crown, they could remain. If they refused to swear allegiance to the British crown, they would be swiftly removed.
Needless to say, my people weren't a bunch of weak, flaky individuals.
The expulsion began in 1755, or thereabouts, and continued on until 1762.

There were many skirmishes that broke out due to resistance, and instead of keeping families together, the British threw random people into boats and sent them down along the Eastern coast of the United States.

Without geeking too much about this history, the Acadians eventually ended up in the heart of South Louisiana.
Here, they thrived.

My last name is "Trahan", which is a variation Trahand, a metonymic occupational name for a silkworker who drew the thread from the cocoons, from a derivative of traire ‘to draw or stretch’. It has been ‘translated’ into English as "strong".

This is appropriate, haha. Anyone who knows me will say that I am quite a strong-minded individual.

I live in Abbeville, Louisiana--which is a small town approximately an hour's drive north of the Gulf of Mexico. We refer to ourselves as "delta" or "basin" people, because we basically reside on the Louisiana Delta.

My town is in the heart of Cajun Country, with about 81% of the population being of primarily Cajun decent.
We are primarily bilingual people. The region is familiar with the French language, in various forms. There is French Proper, Cajun French, and Creole French. French Proper and Cajun French are spoken largely here, with Creole French being more regional to New Orleans, and Plantation Country.

However, it's as they say, "francais est francais!"
Meaning, if you can speak or comprehend one, you can more or less speak and comprehend the other.

I suppose I should speak a little about my life and culture here, in comparison to other places that I've been.

Here, we have the law by which one should live:

Le Bon Dieu, la famille, la langue, et la nourriture.
The Good God, the family, the language, and the food.

Traditionally, Cajuns are Roman Catholic.
Family is divided into traditional gender-roles; the father resuming a position as the head of the family, and the mother positioning herself as the neck. Children are often taught broad use of outdoor work; such as building, hunting, fishing, and farming.
English is broadly spoken, though French is often used as a means of bonding between older and younger generations. Immersion schools that promote the sole use of French in the classroom are becoming very popular.
Food is eaten ALL THE TIME. Rice is cooked with ANYTHING. Popular dishes are "rice n' gravy", "jambalaya", and LOTS and LOTS of meat.


Now, you may be wondering...what is it like, growing up as a twenty-year-old Cajun-American Woman?

It's interesting and often strange.

I'd have to say the most difficult part of it is balancing tradition and modernization.

For example:
"The Family" says you're damaged goods if you're not married and making babies by the time you're twenty-five.
I, personally, have no interest in being married or making babies until I am thirty, or thereabouts.

Traditional courting rituals apply for young adults, such as myself, who like to date and such. Cussing gets you reciting three rosaries, lying gets you kneeling in the confessional, and premartial sex gets you a one-way ticket to hell.

In my grandparent's house, a young Cajun woman who is openly known to not be a virgin is seen as "une chienette", or "a little dog".

Living with someone before you're married to them is also frowned upon.

As old-aged as these things may seem, it keeps a moral standard that is rather singular. Although I have an openness to religion and sexuality that sometimes scares my grandmere, I think that I have a very healthy reasoning with both.

And, for the traditions being strict, the young people are very, very affectionate.

For instance, when I went visit friends in Maine, about two years ago, I was rather shocked by the way the two sexes interacted.
Here, for instance, boys and girls that have no desire to date one another still greet each other with hugs, and sometimes even kisses. It's a friendly thing that isn't taken with a serious context. I observed that this would perhaps be considered cheated in another area of the country, but here it's just considered friendly, and even polite.
In Maine, when I arrived, I greeted both of my friend's parents with a hug. They looked at me like I was crazy. It was amusing for the moment, but confused me upon later thought.
I discovered that physical interaction is another thing that I really enjoy about my culture. We're very touchy-feel people. Hugs, kisses, back pats, handshakes, all contribute greatly to our body language, and what we mean to say to one another.

I suppose I should talk about the opposite sex from a female's POV.

Cajun boys are notorious charmers.
I can attest that went "Les yankes" come down here looking for romance, they aren't apt to leave.

Cajun boys have a two main occupations they can look forward to in the workforce: Farming and Petroleum.
They usually know how to dance quite well--namely to various culturally significant songs accompanying a guitar, accordion, and fiddle.
A Cajun boy will never, ever drive a car. Big, huge, trucks are testaments to manhood...
It's sort of in the same ideology of "the bigger the truck, the bigger the you-know-what".
He has two shirts "every day", and "work".
When approaching a lady, he tips his hat (if he's wearing one).
When accompanying a lady, he opens the door, remains standing until she's seated, and doesn't speak until he's spoken to.
When greeting a lady, he waits until she reaches out her hand, and then proceeds to bend and kiss it.
They're raised to be gentlemen, and avid protectors of the feminine--mind you, they can be assholes until they hit the age of thirty.

All in all, I'd say I've given a pretty good idea of where I come from.

As we speak, I'm hoping that people's ideas of Cajun-Americans can be broadened.
We come from humble and conservative roots, but we are also modern and innovative.
I'd like to think that I'm proof of that.
I look forward to breaking down walls of convention, yet at the same time being able to sit with my children and eat supper every night, and speak to them in French--as my family does every night.

C'est si bon!

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

I'm Singular--Wanna Fix That?

Just a reminder: be completely honest with
all your answers, I will be consulting Facebook to ensure honesty. Any
false information will automatically nullify any
chance you might have had. Thanks.
Also: this application must be filled out in its entirety
in order to be considered for the position that you
are applying. Photographs may sway my opinion
one way or the other, feel free to attach any that
you think may help you gain this position.




Basic Information:


Full Legal Name: ___________________________________________

Age: ________

Height: _______

Weight: _______

Eye Color: ______

Natural Hair Color: __________________

Current Hair Color ___________________


Contact Information:

Home Phone: _______________________

Cell Phone: _________________________

E-mail: ____________________________


Knowledgeable Information:

Are you a Man-Whore? (Y / N)
If you are a Man-Whore, how long have you been such? ____________________

Have you ever had a sex change? (Y / N)

Are you confident with the size of your anatomy? (Y / N)

Do you possess any venereal diseases? (Y / N)
If so, how many, and list them in alphabetical order: ___________________________________________________________________

Do you smoke? (Y / N)
If so, how often? ______________________________________

Do you drink? (Y / N)
If so, how often? ______________________________________

Do you use illegal substances? (Y / N)
If so, how often, and list them in alphabetical order: ____________________________________________________________________

Do you have kids? (Y /N)
If so, how many, and by how many different mothers:______________________________

Do you currently have a source of income? (Y / N)

Do you live with your parents? (Y / N)
If not, describe your current living situation: ____________________________________________________________________

Do you have a history of mental illness? (Y / N)

Have you ever cheated on a "significant other"? (Y / N)

Do you cook? (Y / N)

Do you clean? (Y / N)

Do you give aromatherapy massages? (Y / N)

Do you have any siblings? (Y / N)
If so, how many, and state their ages and sex: ___________________________________

Do you have a religion? (Y / N)
If so, describe: _________________________________________________________

Do you have a political persuasion? (Y / N)
If so, describe: _________________________________________________________

Do you have any piercings? (Y / N)
If so, where: __________________________________________________________

Do you have any tattoos? (Y / N)
If so, where: __________________________________________________________

Do I have to worry about any bitch-ass ex-girlfriend of yours wanting to shank me? (Y / N)

List your three favorite genres of music, from most favorite to least favorite:
-
-
-


Further Evaluation:

What is your idea of a perfect date, in three sentences or less: ____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________

List special skills that would assist you in being given this position:
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________

What do you want out of a relationship, in three sentences or less:
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________

Best relationship experience?
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________

Worst relationship experience?
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________

Explain your views on the phrase "Bros Before Hoes", in three sentences or less:
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________


Relationship Background:
List your past three relationships, starting with the most recent

Start Date:
End Date:
Emotionally Successful? (Y / N)

Start Date:
End Date:
Emotionally Successful? (Y / N)

Start Date:
End Date:
Emotionally Successful? (Y / N)


References:

Please supply three references (preferably attractive males between the ages of 20-26):
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________



I hereby certify that the information given by me in this application is true to my knowledge, and I give the authorized person(s) permission to verify it by any means deemed appropriate. I understand that by filling out this form and submitting it for review, I still may stand no chance in hell.


Date:____________ Signature: _____________________

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Brit's: Mean Words At The Office



The sound of ticking-and-taping of keyboard sounds me. Everywhere. I take a deep breath. I reach under my desk and grab my purse and start to rummage through the abyss. Fumbling through all of my shit-which I am still trying to understand why I have to have so much crap. I move my Purell and found the item I wanted most. My Ipod. I gingerly place each ear piece in the appropriately labeled ear (left goes into the left, and the right goes into the right geesh) and turn on the music. *ah* soliace of the blasting hard rock that is on there at the moment.






My job is filled with bullshit, and mostly back-stabbing women. Its always girls who enjoy the untenable turmoil of others. Why? Because girls don't "beat each other up" if things go airway. Their form of "dueling" is the act of verbal abuse. Please that whole saying "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me" is probably the worlds biggest load of crap I have ever heard. Please, I would much rather pull out the fista-cuffs then deal with the harsh words, so much easier. And now as the song "hit me with your best shot" blasts through my earphones shows me that sometimes enough is freaking enough. Women are mean and malicious with their actions and its quite scary.






Yesterday in particular, was kinda an off day. I hate coming into work with everyone (well a majority of the downstairs folks I work with) likes to whisper about me. I was chained at my desk with a lot more anger than usual. All because I saw in written words, what my so called "office mother" wrote to someone else about me "oh I get it, she's too busy with her boyfriend to do school work, she she comes to work and does it" --wow hold up. First I am sure you are wondering how I saw this, at the firm here (I work at a Law office) we have this thing called "stickies" kinda like instant messaging through out the office. She left this stickie up, and I just happened to see it because I was answering the backup phone at her desk, cause I don't have one at mine. Low and behold the words were there, and of course out of human nature you are going to read whatever it is that's laid out on the screen.




Here's the deal, besides the obvious. I decide to change my career from a history teacher to become a paralegal. I got interested because when I started working here part time in the winter of 07' law was cool. Still is but if only the ends justify the means right? In June of 2009 I became full time here and then in September I enrolled at Kaplan University online for my paralegal degree. Things seemed all honky dory if you will, I was allowed to bring in school work, ask questions, and I enjoyed asking questions from the professionals. I was on the Presidents List thanks to the A's I had received. Then, everything, started to go downhill. It was before hand just a little with one woman who I swear had a personal vendetta against me for nothing but she left the firm and I thought all was calm in the land. WRONG-O. My "office mom" and the girl out front had started to talk shit about me. They watched my every move, what I did, what I was doing. I deleted them off of my facebooks (no-blocked them actually) because we weren't friends, they were just keeping tabs on me, you know just in case if I had logged on at all to day. (funny cause they would have to too...right? hmm) They observed how long I was using my cellphone (that I am not allowed to have at my desk cause my boss swears I have a texting problem....yaaa haha) or how long I have been in the ladies room wondering what on earth I could really be doing. Drugs. Simple. Wow. The beauty of this is that, I know some dirt on one of these girls that could potinally destroy her marriage. She shouldn't be so careless with things....




Since all of this mean back-stabbing stuff has been happening, my grades have dropped from A's to C's. I don't care about school anymore. It just doesn't feel the same as it use to when I first started out. I wanted to be able to come to work with a smile on my face, and to think I would be the one to excel over all because I already work at a law office with the people I need to be with. WRONG. Every time someone from the downstairs area freaking starts being all buddy-buddy with me I bite my tongue hard enough to either lose it or just taste the blood. Now hold it-- I have already spoken with my boss. He says if I catch them saying things about me come to him, but other than that I have no proof of this. OH wow wait-- and before you roll your eyes even more, The reason why I stay, is because first of all, where I live there is nothing here but working at McDonald's OR being a chamber maid and being paid 10x's less than what I make here. (though that isn't really enough either) And the days that don't entirely suck, are tolerable. I do take for granted the days that everyone is getting along. I have learned that hey, if my boss wanted me fired, then he would have fired me LOOOOOONG ago. And its kinda funny to see them all frustrated when I get away with things that they think I should be punished for. I am trying to get back into the school mode and do my best. It will look wonderful on my updated resume that I had worked for a law firm during (maybe? dunno what the future holds!) my college career.
I know that no matter where you go I am not always going to get along with everyone, and that's fine. The world isn't a perfect place, because the people in it are not perfect. I have been known to be outspoken at times when I shouldn't. I know I should confront those who speak ill of me but I am afraid by doing so will only make this third-layer of hell worse. I find that perhaps silence is the best answer for some things rather more than words. Its just sad that I in the end-will know everything. I always do. Though I know you should always tell someone how you feel, but its different when you're a grown up. This isn't high school anymore. This is the real world and the real world down right sucks at times.
From this experience, I will take with me to whatever other firm I will go to when I graduate college. I know deep down in my heart I will get my B.A. in Paralegal studies and become someone. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger in the end, and I know I am the bigger person than those words.
-Britney.
(I am sure that the mention of mean girls wont be the last time I say anything either....ha ha)

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Ash: The Doomed Efforts of the "Nice Girl"

You know that old saying "nice guys finish last"?
Whoever invented that saying had a mild form of redundancy, because apparently the term goes both ways...
I have not been involved in a serious relationship for more than two years. I was content with this. My last serious relationship, in which the terms "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" were used, ended in utter and complete disaster.
He was a mental and physical abuser, and a drug aficionado. I was a naive girl who didn't have the courage to remove myself when things became very--very bad.
Therefore, I have been discouraged...and dare I say disdainful...about involving myself in a serious, committed relationship at this age. I figure that when I get older, I'll certainly have more security with myself, and may be able to take on such a feat. But life, mon amis, never occurs as planned...

Insert "Damien".
I had met him through a mutual friend, and he pursued me tirelessly for months.
"Damien" was not my ideal vision of a man. I had promised myself a tall, strong-minded intellectual. Damien was neither tall (standing at 5'8), nor strong-minded (he could not make any decisions), and certainly not intellectual (he was confused when I cited Bronte in casual conversation)...yet, he was charming, and very sweet.
I allowed him to take me out.
I allowed him to tell me I was "amazing".
I said yes when he asked me to be his girlfriend, formally, over a dinner of homemade pancakes.

Two weeks into the relationship, he's disoriented and doesn't know what he wants.
I had warned him:
I am not a walk in the park.
I am a determined, steadfast woman with opinions and an iron character. My desire for stimulation in conversation vexed him, and he said he would try, but he never pulled through.
To make matters worse, he broke up with me...while I was at work...OVER FACEBOOK.

What I do not, and perhaps will never understand, is how could I be dumped in such a way, when I treated him so well?
A few examples:
- I surprised him with a coconut snowcone one afternoon, because he had said it was his favorite
- I went to see him play soccer at 7pm after returning from a very tiring weekend in Houston--having not slept for three nights straight, and remained with him at the field until 10pm
- I made him dinner on several occasions
- I took him to a concert in Baton Rouge--AND PAID FOR HIS TICKET.

What did I do wrong?

Why did he become confused?

The night before he broke up with me, we spent the night together talking, and holding one another, and he was smiling from ear to ear...
The next morning, only hours after we had parted...he tells me he believes we're too different...
Too different? Or am I just too sure of myself to be his girlfriend?

Perhaps he'd prefer an immature slut with daddy-issues.


Peace. Love. & CherryBombs.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Brit's: For my Grammie



Tomorrow will by my Grandmothers 74th Birthday. In all she would have been 74 if only she survived her battle of cervical cancer on August 13, 2008 that went unnoticed till fully it was too late.






My Grandmother has always been the inspiration of my every being. She told me that one day I would publish something because I wrote all the time. She would read my short stories and poems with full wonder. Now no one really reads my poems unless I truly feel like they are worthy enough. My Gram read EVERYTHING.




I just wanted to say that she is still near and dear to my heart. She was a quiet and shy type of lady who spoke up when something finally hit her. I have to thank this woman who during her last year watched as her only granddaughter but herself through living hell. My Gram knew I had an eating disorder and a drug addiction. (I am clean and healthy now guys) She was quiet none the less but let me cry and scream when ever I wanted to get my feelings out. She would listen when I no one else would. She never judged me or criticized me or anything. Now its almost 2 years since she has been gone almost 2 years since I have held her, hugged her, or even heard her voice. It was hard calling the house and not hearing her voice. The picture above was taken at my High school Graduation of course.


For anyone who has lost someone really close to them, you can relate to my pain that I feel. The day that she died I swear a part of me had died with her. I held her hand till she took her last breath. I remember that I was starting to rub under my eyes almost raw from how much crying I had done. Really after the funeral I didn't have much time to grieve. I had to go back to work put a game face on and pretend I was happy when it felt like my whole world came crashing down upon me. My best friend was gone and I was lonely.


I have so many wonderful memories of my Gram that I keep hidden in a vault in the back of my mind that when something bad happens I always think of it. I can still hear her voice if I listen carefully. I played my Clarinet for the first time in almost a year this morning and I just remembered her and my Grandfather NEVER missed a single concert I was in. She loved my music. She also made the best home-made corn chowder and that whenever I have someone elses it will never be good enough as hers. She also made a killer apple pie too. For the fact that she was quite she was so smart. I miss how she use to always harp on me about either my school work or my college studies. (I took a year off of school after she died.) I wish she could see me now with my Paralegal work. She would be so proud and she would have loved Jason. (she wasn't really too found of my last boyfriend. ha ha) I am shocked at how long she even dealt with my Grandfathers crazy antics but that's love for you. She was strong and never showed she was in pain. I think I adopted that from her. I also adopted her sweet gentleness when I want to be...She showed me how to sew and to knit. I just remember sitting on the couch and watching movies with her or even talking about the most random things. She even let me listen to my hard rock music.


I guess I could go on and on about this woman that I love so near and dear. Heck I even have hers and my Grandfathers initials tattooed into my arm. My Grandparents raised me when my mother (their daughter) couldn't really do it herself. But that's another story all on its own.


Recently I have been going through this turtle thing and I want one. This morning after my little clarinet session I was digging through her dresser to find a pin to wear with my sweater. Low and be hold there was a Turtle Pin.
Seems like my Gram knew I was looking for something. She did always have something up her sleeve.
For those out there that still have your Grandparents, be thankful. I feel so VERY fortunate to have had mine and be so very close. Grandparents are the gate way to the past to shape who you are today. I hope everyone is as lucky as I.
--Brit.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Brit's: Meeting My Father


In September of 2009 I had a lot going on. First of all, I was enrolling into Kaplan University Online for paralegal studies. I needed to go back to school after taking a year off due to my grandparents health and then the untimely death of my grandmother, which still to this day haunts me but that’s another story. On top of that my boyfriends 21st birthday was coming up at the end of the month and I was trying to plan something special for him, and that same week was our 1 year anniversary as well. So you can imagine that my emotional-meter was quite high at the time but it was full of happiness and excitement of course. I was changing, becoming more of an adult and feeling confident.
One day my Aunt Pam sends me a facebook message. She is the half sister of my biological/estranged father whom I have met several times though out Conway. Mostly in Hannafords or at U.S Cellular, we exchange hellos and greetings and speak briefly. She was my only contact to that side of my family that I felt like a stranger. She told me in the message that she had spoken to him at the races (her husband my uncle drives a racecar I believe?) And told him that she speaks to me. She then obtained his cell phone number and gratefully gave it to me, with hopes I would speak to him. I have only met my father once in my life and that was when I was either 4 or 5 and all I remember of his was tall, large and a bushy beard and wearing a hat with long dark brown curly hair that was sticking out of it. That was all.
I have always wondered about that man who had a huge part of my being. For years my mother (Teresa) had fed me these benine stories that he never loved me, wished I was a boy and that he was too immature to be a father. (Coming from the woman who gave birth to my brother at 20 hmm) All those words of course came out of her drunk mouth but who else was I to believe? I looked nothing like my mothers side of the family, the side that I am close to (for those who know me.) I consider myself the black sheep of the family, with my dark brown hair and dark brown eyes almost makes me feel inferior to my light auburn some times blonde headed cousins and blue eyed family members. Still to this day at family gatherings I still get looked at as if I am an unwanted guest or that I am simply a friend of someone who came. Where as my brother Mark who is a spitting image of Teresa frolics through and everyone knows who he belongs to. Recently at my great aunts funeral I had a family member ask me who I came with. I said "My grandfather." and they looked at me and asked "Who’s your grandfather" I said "Reggie." My grandfather is well known here and well liked. They laughed at me until my mother came over and confessed she had given birth to me. *inserts blank stair*

I had enough. I had questions I wanted answers to, but I am not angry at all. I sent the man a text saying "Is this Brian Anderson?" hoping that the man knows how to text, and in a matter of 10 minutes I received a text that said "Yes who is this?" taken back that he actually texted me back I didn’t know what to say. I was at work I had so much in my head I was a text message away from my real father what do I say? I said "This is Britney" Next thing I know we agreed that he would call me at 7 that night to talk. Well. How happy could I get? Pretty darn happy. I was so over joyed I sent Jason a text telling him I had gotten a hold of my father. He had always been a big supporter since we started dating that I should some how get into contact with him. My grandmother was also a hug inspiration as well she never bad talked him and thought I should at least talk to him once. That night we were on the phone from 7 till 9 talking exchanging life stories talked about Teresa and what she had done to him to make him back away from me what she had done to be growing up, his new family and I have a little half brother. How exciting. I for once am the big sister. I have always been the little sister now its my turn to be the cool sibling. My father has lived in south Portland for almost 15+ years and he use to work for DHL delivering packages all over the place. Come to find out he use to deliver to Fryeburg Academy until 2008. So during my entire school career (I graduated in 2007) I had most likely seen him and not even known it. Talk about weird? We agreed that Saturday we would meet up for dinner at Olive Garden. So Jason and I headed over to Portland for some shopping, ok just me shopping more like him dragging his feet haha and met with him. He said that he was the guy wearing a orange Harley Davidson t-shirt he said he looked like a big old pumpkin but then I saw him. Tall, thin, short dark brown hair, like mine trimmed facial hair and those dark brown eyes he smiled at me. He had two little kids with him (his girlfriends kids which I learned...MUCH later another story all in its own trust me.) He hugged me so hard I felt like a small little girl, I had finally someone to call me their little girl. (At 20 at the time. Yes. I am someone’s little princess damnit.) And I had also made a full grown man cry as he held my face in his hard working hands. He was so lost for words we both were speechless for about a good 5 minutes. I felt like a missing puzzle piece of my heart had been filled. I was starting to see my life a little more clearer now.

We were probably at the restaurant for almost 3-4 hours talking getting to know one another (Jason as well...and two kids a boy and a girl.) We exchanged more stories and he told me some stories about Teresa and I could relate to them. You can’t make that stuff up. For those who don’t know me my mother is a sever alcoholic who through my eyes has never really been a mother. Though I will admit now, she is trying. (Trying.) Then the words came out from his mouth. "Aren’t you mad at me for not being there?" Granted I did go through that stage that I was pissed off I never had a father. But, I had him now and that was all that mattered. "No." I said. "That’s in the past, why worry about yesterday when we should worry about tomorrow?" I think there was a big sigh of relief on his face.

When we parted we hugged again for another 10 minutes and we took off warm hearted and full I might add, the truck headed towards home and it was silent. Tears started to swell in my eyes and Jason pokes me and says "hey." I turn to face him smiling as the tears are now cascading down my smiling cheeks. "You happy?" He asks. "Yes. That’s my daddy." I said. "I met my daddy." I kept saying. Jason smiles and tells me "I am glad you met him too." then it was funny after a while Jason pipes up again and says "you know, you guys have the same mannerisms? It was kinda weird to watch you two." I had to laugh. For anyone that has or is taking psychology knows all about the difference between Nurture vs. Nature. Children tend to pick up things from their peers and their surroundings. I just find it interesting I picked up traits and my some of my mannerisms from my father whom was absent from my life till then.

I feel very fortunate to have him in my life. Though when I told Teresa and Mark they both had an issue with it. She was angry at me for awhile all because she was afraid I was going to believe "His lies" she puts it but hey there is always some truth with in a lie right? I told her that I am an adult and I will do what I want when I want to. Nuff said. I would always feel some jealousy towards my friends who had both of their parents. But now I have my father. When someone tells me I look like my mother I try not to bite their face off and I simply smile and say "oh well I think I look more like my father." and I can say this now with full confidence and not shy away when someone that knows my father tells me I look like him I can now say "thank you. I know I do." I also understand where a lot of other things come from like me battling with depression my father has it, and some other habits as well. Its good to know these things. Now with facebook I can see pictures of his side of the family and how much I look like my cousins. I know where I belong now and I don’t feel so out of place. I love it.

So to those who have their fathers in their life you are lucky and now that Fathers Day has passed I hope you told them how much you love them and that you are grateful for everything that they have ever done for you. Hold on to those wonderful memories that helped shape you into the person you are today.

I love you Daddy. <3

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Ash's Opinion on "The Gender-Bender": Gender Roles in Modern Households

Gender roles today are (naturally) much different than they were fifty years ago. Times change, as do trends in the social sphere. Today, it isn't altogether uncommon to see a father staying home taking care of the offspring, while a mother toddles off to have an ambitious career. In fact, it's already socially acceptable.

I have never been one to follow social norms...in fact, I pride myself on beating them back with an iron fist. This does not, however, mean that my ideals are accepted by everyone. In fact, there is still much debate over how much things have changed since the early 1900s.

Do women still cook and clean?
Are men still the head of the household?
And most importantly: How are future generations being taught to view the positions of man and woman?

As ambiguous as I wish it was, it still seems that consumers on the commercial market still prefer to see women selling "gender-appropriate" products, such as cleaning supplies and healthy food choices. Men, likewise, are seen selling items such as fishing gear and barbecue supplies.
I am a firm believer in the idea that these roles are changing swiftly--and changing for the better. I look forward to the day when a man can remain at home with his children while his wife works, and fill the same effortless role as his wife would have in a like situation. In fact, I think it's extremely good for balanced growth and should be encouraged.

I suppose it's not the concept of traditional roles that annoys me, it's the oppression and confusion that comes from being chained to one way of going about things.

My father, for instance, pisses me off enormously. He is a firm believer in the old-world mentality of "woman cooks and cleans, man hunts and provides". However, his is a rather hypocritical double-standard; he and my mother both have jobs outside of the house. Yet, I have never seen him with a dust rag in his hand--and it is a rarity to find him doing dishes, or vacuuming.

I usually specify very clearly what I desire in a potential life-mate...and if the man that I will eventually call my husband does not understand that chores are a mutually shared position in the household... he will not be marrying me.

In short, I think that the 2010s will continue to bring us men wearing aprons and women wearing very swanky business suits--thank god.

I am gladly looking forward to a bright and bountiful future for sexually-ambiguous household roles.


Till next time
Keep it classy, doves!
Ash.



Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Brit's Opinion on BP Oil Spill.




In Mark Sappenfield’s yahoo article from Sunday June 20, 2010 "A Yachting Trip? The 10 Worst BP gaffes in Gulf Oil Spill" he states "The decision by BF Chief Executive Tony Hayward to spend a day with his family in England Saturday was perhaps defensible. Two months into the Gulf Oil Spill, some Americans might grudgingly admit that even a man charged with solving the worst environmental crisis in US history needed a d ay here or there to recharge the batteries"—Meh. I’d like to beg to differ. The man decided to go away, step back from this horrible crisis to on clean fresh untouched by oil water. What? Couldn’t be in the Gulf of Mexico? Oh ya that’s right BP oil is spewing out about 1.5 million gallons (almost maybe?) Each day destroy the ocean, destroying a years worth of shrimping, and fishing. And if people know me, I loves me some shrimp, and now prices may rise on shrimp I’ll be crakin BP skulls.

I decided to pick apart this article by Sapperfield because he says things nicely and of course professionally, where as I’ll break it down into lay-mans terms in regards of the real-ness. WTF BP?
Next was favorite line that was Haywards deep misunderstanding of American public opinion-or his dismal of it. Ya. Hi. There’s oil destroying America’s side of the ocean if not stopped it just might hit your precious yacht water, in England, which will make your boat dirty. Wait a second. Why are you even in America you British asshole? Don’t get me wrong to each his own and you can make your home anywhere with limitations of course but wow. You obviously don’t understand that we Americans don’t like being messed with. We blow shit up. And your actions show that you can just run home and away from the issue? Pff is that even professional? Not entirely. I understand that everyone needs a break, I need a break from my school work blah blah blah. But this is something that needs 24 hour attention. So I am sure England wouldn’t appreciate it we spilled millions of gallons of oil in the Isle of Wright now would they?
Oh, then this was interesting. "Small people" Ok, when did the munkins of Oz invade the Gulf of Mexico? Oh perhaps that what rich people call hard working middle class folk. "Small people" again quoted from the article "Spoken by a man who owns a yatch in Thailand (in regards of BP board chair man Carl-Henric Svanberg) the phrase "small people" smelled of rank class condescension. Swedes however, not that the word smafolket" in Svanberg’s native Swedish has positive connotation with under tones of egalitarianism" (for those this very long scary word at the end here means a beliefs in human equality especially with respect to social political, and economic affairs. I had to look it up no worries.) Woo. So these small folk here are the ones that get your fish you eat and the shrimp you enjoy at your lavish dinner parties with your caviar. Sad to think that the fishermen are really note worthy. Just small people you know. Where is their justice?
Oh, OH! The best part wow, the best part is how just after 6 weeks of this pure-hell madness Hayward exlaimes He wants his life back. "We’re sorry for the masive disruption it’s causes their lives. There’s no one who wants this over more than I do. I’d like my life back" -Okay. The way he states disrubtion is like a noise child in a class room who only gets scoleded for his actions sits in time out for 10 minutes and then gets to continue playing with blocks. This. Is. Life. This. Is. Real. Welcome to the big adult life. You are in it Mr. Hayward. "Their life" meaning the shrimpers and the fishermen who now have no monthly income, who want THEIR life back? Blow me because you’re freaking out over your paycheck and now a smeared name? Excuse me Mr. Hayward do you know what a hard days work is? No I don’t mean breaking a sweat during a meeting and then signing your name on a piece of paper, no I don’t mean mind boggling smarts. Real hard psychical labor? I mean blood, sweat, tears and no joke– back breaking work? There are mens lively hoods that are now destroyed. I think BP chairmen should help the shrimpers and the fishermen by working. His personal comment was very insensitive and inconsiderate and rude. He is just worried about his ass because he got caught in a pickle, like his and got caught stuck in the jar and it wont come out. Ouchy.
As we continue with the article Hayward stated to the Guardian a British News paper that "The Gulf of Mexico is a very big ocean. The amount of volume of oil and dispersant we are putting into it is tiny in relation to the total water volume." –my face is utterly expressionless every time I read those words of pure ignorance. I thought you had to be some what well educated to be in a position this man has. I cannot fathom how this man can go to sleep at night peacefully and not think of the chemicals that are in the water, that are killing and destroying the natural habitat of the ocean and the creatures that inhabit it. "Small things" can make a BIG difference. Like for example: having a baby. But, this is like cancer spreading through the ocean. My heart rips open every time I see a bird or a baby turtle being covered in oil that have died because people didn’t get to them in time. Its not their fault. Sucks. If I lived near you Ash I would be scrubbing birds and taking baby turtles home. Were are the animals voices? What about the fish and other aquatic life beneath the surface? Does justice have a voice? So much has been destroyed now, how many years will it take to get things back to some sort of normalcy?
Now its still unclear how much oil is really spewing from the bottom of the ocean. All we know is that its too much and it need to stop. But yet its scary because no one can seem to say or really predict how much is coming out. I am shocked that a large company such as BP didn’t have a really fully planned out back up plan in to a "what if" factor of an explosion. My heart goes out to the 11 workers families who perished from the explosion. But that just make any sense in how you don’t have a plan. Hell. Even plan B is a good back up plan for 87% of women out there. They always know where to go and what to do. (Or shouldn’t haha) but still.
What also pissed me off was that BP spent $50 million on a friggen tv ad campaign wow. Wait why? My hands instantly go up when I turn the channel and see it. Thank you Obama for telling them that the money would have been better spent on relief and damage claims. The sad part is that these commercials are nation wide to let everyone near and far know that BP is "trying" to make a effort to fix things. Hey, don’t say sorry to this Yankee. Apologize to those that are really being hurt by this like Ashlee and her family, to the fishermen excuse me to the "small people" in person. Actions speak louder than words.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Hey, Your Music Sucks...


So, we all know that one person in our group of friends that has the overly retarded taste in music... Whether it's obnoxious Toby Keith-esq belting over fictitious cattledrives and bad-fitting Wranglers... Or that one guy that calls everything you listen to "so mainstream", we want to know... Tell us all. And Ash & Brit shall give you our most honest input!

Send your stories here kiddies (anonymous, or otherwise):


ashbritthewriters@yahoo.com
<3




The Ashizzle.

My name is Ashlee, and I suppose this is where I ought to begin rambling on about myself--something, I suppose, I could be especially good at if I did it more often.

I was born a Floridian, educated exceptionally well in social etiquette with minimalist results, and have lived in Louisiana's Gulf Coast since I was wee.

Yes, we have alligators.
No, they are not (usually) our pets.
Yes, we eat them fried.
Yes, we wear them occasionally.
No, they are not (usually) man-eaters.

Enough about alligators...

This information concerning my person should be a sequence. It ought to be a goddamn sequence! A little insight into the marvelous persona of "Ash". Here we go:

- Proud French-speaker
- Likes artichokes, rarely eats them
- Was declared legally insane at the age of twelve
- Never once dyed this hair, and doesn't much desire to
- One sibling, a sister who is eight years younger than i
- Happily singular
- Enjoys traveling
- Finds pleasure in educational lectures
- Thoroughly convinced numbers are the enemy
- Primary occupation: Historical Archivist, Secondary occupation: cleaning houses for the elderly
- Dream job would be to write for a humanitarian journal out of Rwanda
- Or to be a photojournalist for a fashion magazine...
- Or to live off the earnings of volumes of messy, emotional, and somewhat insipid poetry...
- Would love to punch Stephenie Meyer in the face
- Fancy I'll live in France one day
- I think I'll adopt a child at thirty or so from any country that I like best at the moment
- I consider myself heterosexual, but I often think that is somewhat counterproductive
- Refers to the Spanish language as "viral"
- Wrote three novels, three books of poetry, several short stories, and is working on a screenplay
- Death is better than being a writer--at least with one you'd know you were in hell instead of constantly questioning
- Completely indifferent to politics
- Questions the motives of constantly shirtless men
- Likes plants more than most people
- Is annoyed by small, infuriatingly noisy dogs--and children of like nature
- Drank a shot of gasoline in Russia
- Never once played a video game
- Lived on a farm as a youngin
- Has a tendency to listen to Finnish music
- Would never marry an Englishman
- Probably says "fuck" more than any other living person
- Lives by the musing of "who the hell am i"

I met Brit on a trip to Europe, and our friendship has flourished. She is, contrary to her assessment, a fantastic writer and I look forward to working with her on this collaboration of amusement.

Mon dieu, this bitch is long.

Peace, Love, & CherryBombs.

Monday, June 14, 2010

The Britney.

"Hello.... How about that ride in? I guess that's why they call it Sin City." [awkward laughter] "You guys might not know this but I consider myself a bit of a loner. I tend to think of myself as a one-man wolf-pack."...yaa any who I'm Britney. I hail from east bum-fuck and you gots a perdy mouth Conway, New Hampshire. That's right. Home of Mt. Washington, pretty leaves, and lots of granite. I am 21 years old and going to school to become a paralegal. I get to play wish sharks...and I am their bath toy. I will just say it wasn't all what I thought that it would be. I have my moments where I hate it but then in the end, it will be worth it. I read and write...A LOT. I like to think of that I live my life at the end of a pen. Though I would like to think (and know) that Ashlee has the most artistic touch with a pen. But I will say that my Grandmother is quite the most influential person for my writing because she has always told me that I would publish something someday, and I will before I die, see something published.



Lets see what else is there about me.

I am loud and can be obnoxious.
I am known to swear like a sailor.

I hate spiders more than anything in this world.

I tend to write exactly how I feel.

I enjoy reading a good true crime book. (if I was smarter I would have liked to become a criminal psychologist.)

I love to cuddle.

I will one day own and English Bulldog and I shall name him Winston Charles. (All of my pets have middle names.)

I have a little obsession with Law and Order SVU though, I only have Seasons 1-8 I am getting there. (Hey they are expensive ok?)

I am happily taken at this very moment by this cute guy named Jason of almost 2 years.<3'


I love my family history.


In September I started a relationship with my biological father and I feel like my missing puzzle piece to my life is pretty much complete. He's amazing and now I know so much more about my other family that I am really ok with being the black sheep of my family.


Ummmm I am very opened minded.


I am not one for politics but will discuss certain topics of interest.


I hate liers, judgemental people, closed minds, racists and anyone who wants to fight me when it comes to wanting to make love to Gerard Butler =P


I love hard rock. But then again I like goat-roping music as well I like everything pretty much.





Well I guess what I want out of this writing blog with Ash here is that I will be able to get the freedom and be able to express myself and I get to write. Also I like to know what people out there are thinking and feeling and maybe (perhaps if I don't come off so scary) could help them. I guess if people have any questions they can ask me!