Rosella Eleanor LaFevre - Journalist and Fiction Writer

Booya-kah-ha: The Wit and Wisdom of Cyndy Drew Etler

2012-01-16T23:32:00.000-05:00

A couple of months ago, a tweet about this YA memoir, Straightling, caught my attention. Following the link to the author's website, I signed up for her email list and got access to an excerpt. Her fresh, lively voice captivated me immediately. I emailed the author, Cyndy Drew Etler, and asked if I could review her book for M.L.T.S. Magazine.

A little while later, I got an email asking for opinions of two stock photos. And so began a beautiful friendship.

We email almost constantly. We talk about self-publishing, our favorite books and movies, and writing. Cyndy's been reading THEY KEPT THEIR SECRETS, the book I'm working on, and critiquing it. For a criticism junkie like me, her imparting her intelligence and talent is a blessed gift.

Today, she sent me this email:

Here's a sentence that illustrates one of the points I want you to pick up. I know you have the talent to do this, just maybe it hasn't occurred to you concisely.

When you describe things, as much as you are able, and as much as is reasonable, you want to use the perfect descriptor--and quite often, that descriptor is going to be the most effective if it's unexpected. Check this sentence out.

He sat on the lumpy green couch tapping his feet in time with a guitar he scratched at with sullen incompetence.

Lumpy, green, couch: standard fare. Nothing unusual, but at the same time, no overkill, either. It's lumpy and it's green. It's not also velour, scratched-up, old, and heavy. Right? So for the part of the image that is not the pivotal part--that is not the part he most wants you to take notice of--he gives two normal words to describe it. Just enough to let you know it's shitty.

Tapping his feet in time: that's just what the character is doing. Nothing fancy, just a statement of fact. This, too, is not the focus of the sentence.

a guitar he scratched at with sullen incompetence. NOW we're talkin. THIS is the gem in the crown. The incompetence, the animal-like fumbling. Therein lies our characterization, so therein lies our fancy wording. You dig?

And instead of telling us "he couldn't really play, so he was fumbling at the guitar," he let us divine that, by showing ("scratched at") not telling. He did tell about incompetence, but the "sullen" gives us the layers about him. He's pouty. He's not only incompetent, he's pissed about it.

See what I'm saying here? I want you to go through all your stuff and highlight the lines where you are telling, not showing.

Then with a colored pen, underline the portion of those sentences which is the gem, the really important info you want us to get.

Finally, for those underlined parts, I want you to go into like a state of meditation about it. Hard to explain this part, but you have to let your mind loose of its moorings, and see or feel or hear what that thing/scene/action/look/mood is most "like." A wedding dress, dark like Louisiana Bayou. A stadium cheer of a smile. See how they're totally not related, but the layers say soooo much?

This woman is quickly becoming a dear friend. Hopefully her advice will help you sharpen your own writing!

Climb Every Mountain

2012-01-15T23:54:00.000-05:00

Bad writing. It piles up. You write and you write and you just add to the pile. It's shit, it's shit. You torture yourself. For what reason? It's terrible, it's shit. You're convinced. Utterly convinced.

Then suddenly. It sucks less. Just marginal improvements at first. And while the pile of writing builds, you come to find that eventually, you've reached its peak. Your peak. The stuff you're writing is actually decent. No wait, it's good. It's better. It's f*cking great!

Today I climbed a mountain again -- I looked through all of my electronic files. I skimmed dozens of pages of fiction, some of it passable, some of it maybe even good. A lot of it was bad. Really bad. Like, how-could-I-ever-have-thought-this-was-good bad.

But there, amidst the bad, and the okay, there were gems.

And then, later, I was paging through my last Writer's Notebook (#7) and found the following quote I'd copied from the January/February 2011 issue of Poets & Writers magazine:

"No writer worth her salt needs to be reminded that underneath nearly every successful piece of writing there is a veritable mountain of 'failure' upon which it stands. The writer--oh, how well she knows. After all, by what other means has her poem, story, essay, or chapter arrived on the page than by fits and starts, addition and subtraction, revision and rewriting?...The act of creating something meaningful is rarely easy. Rather than get discouraged, consider each derelict passage--the mishanded metaphor, the broken logic--as another step further along in that hard slog toward a good, solid piece of writing."

Those words were written by Editor Kevin Larimer, and they really struck a chord, then and now.

The Boy Who Could Do Anything

2012-01-14T20:24:00.000-05:00

This handsome devil is my boyfriend. Jealous?
(Photo: Rosella Eleanor LaFevre)

I have a favor to ask of you, my lovelies.

My darling, Christopher Doctor, is at work on his own novel. It's called THE BOY WHO COULD DO ANYTHING. He started it a while ago and he's finally back at it. The thing is, he's kind of an instant gratification addict and really wants to know what others think of it.

Would you please take some time out of your day to read the following excerpt, the prologue to TBWCDA, and tell us what you think?

Read the excerpt after the break.

Fairy Tales and Real Life

2012-01-11T20:09:00.004-05:00

As a writer, I've long mined my personal experiences -- and exploited those of some of my closest friends and family -- for stories. But through a compost process, I take my own experiences and those of others I know and combine them, filling in the holes as I go with my own imagination.

One thing I've never really given myself credit for is living a life interesting enough to write about without expansion and exaggeration. Maybe that's why I've been fascinated by memoirs lately. Some of my favorite memoirs include Anna Fields' Confessions of a Rebel Debutante and Cyndy Drew Etler's Straightling. Now I'm reading My Week with Marilyn, the memoir by Colin Clark, the young man who got his first job in the film industry, working as third assistant director on The Prince and the Showgirl.

I'm only a few pages in and already I'm delighted by Clark's literary style and, surely, intrigued by the experiences that provided Michelle Williams the opportunity to step inside Marily Monroe's skin. Here, I'll share with you the first paragraph of the memoir, which immediately struck me.

"All my life I have kept diaries, but this is not one of them. This is a fairy story, an interlude, an episode outside time and space which nevertheless was real. And why not? I believe in magic. My life and most people's lives are a series of little miracles -- strange coincidences which spring from uncontrollable impulses and give rise to incomprehensible dreams. We spend a lot of time pretending that we are normal, but underneath the surface each one of us knows that he or she is unique."

While reading, I often highlight or note with a pen those passages which strike me as profound and relevant to real, everyday life. This passage is now between blue ink brackets to be referred to again and again.

Have you read any memoirs? Which are your favorites?

(Above photo property of the Weinstein Group. I'm just borrowing it.)

Getting Back into the Swing (Plus an Excerpt)

2012-01-10T17:01:00.000-05:00

Last week, I started writing again. Spurred on by all the great reading I've been doing and my coversations with Cyndy Drew Etler, a writer who is self-publishing her memoir, Straightling, I knew it was time I got back to my old self. I've always defined myself as a fiction writer but after the fall 2010 semester, I really hadn't written much. I needed to get back to that person.

So I've been working on this novel I'd gotten the idea for a while ago. And it's slow-going but I really think what I've got so far is beautiful.

I decided that I'll share an excerpt from it with you. Read the excerpt after the break.

Beth Kephart on Writing Slowly

2012-01-10T00:20:00.001-05:00

About a year ago, when I was working for two.one.five magazine, I got the chance to interview Beth Kephart, author of several books. She is a true poet and an inspiration. I just read this on her blog and had to share:

"There are great pleasures in writing a book at a quiet pace, in writing toward the not easily known. You steep until the material owns you. You steep, you read, you keep consulting those maps, you watch those films, you listen to those people speaking their foreign tongues until they don't sound so foreign after all. And then one day you wake up, and you own it. One day it's not about what you are studying, but what you know. It takes time."

A Love Poem

2012-01-06T15:33:00.000-05:00

I'm a little obsessed with Marilyn Monroe after seeing My Week with Marilyn. Here's a piece from a poem she wrote about her third husband, Arthur Miller. Hope your 2012 is filled with love and happiness!

Old Notes on Life

2011-12-23T19:29:00.001-05:00

Life is all in the little things, isn't it? Life is the stuff all wrapped up and gifted to us in the tiny moments, the brief and fleeting images right before our eyes.

I'm letting life drift by. I'm scared but I wonder if this isn't my coping mechanism, a distraction from the anxiety of having to live well, of having to find happiness in small things. I don't know what my obsession with "BIG" everything is. I want everything to be big and noted, I want every moment to drip with the juice of big, serious meaning.

I must learn to stop and smell the roses. I must learn to take everything in, to accept that sometimes it rains and sometimes the sun shines. It doesn't have to hold a deeper meaning. I should just accept the way the sun feels on my skin, how the rain drops feel on my arms and legs.

Tomorrow I will try just being, just following the moments of the day as they morph and flow into memories. I have to find the life in the small things, suckle the sweet nectar of life from the bud of the day.

I wrote these words on June 30, 2009 and found them in an old journal today. The 30 or so pages written in the big beautiful red journal gifted to me on my 18th birthday contain some really poetic thoughts that blow me away. Did I really write these words?

Honestly, it's been a long time since I wrote down my reflections on my nature, my life and our whole big, silly world. Old readers of this blog will have noticed my lack of really personal reflections of late. (I'm sorry if you really enjoyed them.)

I fell in love close to two years ago now and I've been working really hard in school and on outside activities. There's been very little time to sit and ponder how I feel about things and what I think of life.

For a very long time, I searched, high and low, for the meaning of life. I thought that I could make sense of it all by writing about my boring life. I thought writing would make my life interesting.

Turns out, I finally got it right on June 30, 2009, and while it took me a while to actually do so, I have just been. I have followed the moments of the day as they morph and flow into memories. I have found the life in the small things. I have suckled the sweet nectar of life from the bud of the day.

Life isn't always what you hoped for or what you expected, but at least you're alive. Right?

3 Great Ugly-Duckling-Gets-Made-Over Movies

2011-11-20T21:43:00.000-05:00

Right around this time of the year, I start wanting to give myself a whole new look. This is probably inspired by my love of the three movies listed below. I watched them all repeatedly when I was a kid, and as one who was frequently teased, I always hoped that I could get made over and change my life.

Never Been Kissed (1999)
This film, starring Drew Barrymore, is one of my favorites. Josie Geller, a less-than-memorable editor at the Chicago Sun-Times, gets her first assignment: to go undercover as a high school student. For Geller, who barely survived high school the first time around, this is mixed blessing. In the process, she makes friends with the popular crowd and falls in love with teacher Sam Coulson (Michael Vartan). And in the end, when she's standing on the pitcher's mound waiting for Sam to give her her first kiss, she's gorgeous.

The Princess Diaries (2001)
Mia Thermopolis is one of my favorite heroines. I loved the books and the movie is fantastic. Mia, an unsightly 15-year-old, finds out that she's actually a princess, and her super chic grandmother, Queen Clarisse Rinaldi, gives her princess lessons and Paolo, a pompous gay man who considers himself a great artiste, gives her a makeover. And with one look at the results, it's clear that he knows something. I just love this one!

She's All That (1999)
Rachel Leigh Cook plays Laney Boggs, a high school student very serious about her art but not her appearance. Zach Siler (Freddie Prinze), recently dumped by his popular girlfriend for a reality TV star (played by Matthew Lillard), makes a bet that he can clean up any girl and make her popular. Laney is the victim of the bet but the beneficiary of Zach's lesbian sister's make-up skills. I always wished I could meet a Zach who would make me over and fall in love in the process.

My Latest Obsessions

2011-11-19T16:35:00.001-05:00

I have kind of an addictive personality. And these are the things I've been obsessed with lately (and most of them are food/drink related):

- Magazines: This one's kind of a life-long deal. My latest faves: Marie Claire, Vanity Fair, Esquire.

- Smores pizza at Maxi's (Liacouras Walk, Philadelphia, PA): This is nutella, fluff and cinnamon & butter blended together on pizza crust. Just yummy.

- Hot chocolate at Good Karma 2 Cafe (928 Pine Street, Philadelphia, PA): I never used to like regular hot chocolate but whatever they do to their hot chocolate at this place, it's incredibly scrumptious.

- Sweet Iced Tea at Eppy's Steaks (a truck at Montgomery and 13th Streets, Philadelphia, PA): As the girl who turned me onto it said, "It's like crack."

- The Vampire Diaries: I know, I know. It's so cheesy. But I just love it. And I'm kind of dying that there won't be a new episode until January.

Cool Reads: 11/17/11

2011-11-17T10:49:00.000-05:00

For Felicity Jones, Her Clothes Play the Role, Too - Journalist Courtney Rubin got a lot of great information, anecdotes and quotes from actress Felicity Jones in this piece about how Jones greatly influenced the costumes of her character in the much-talked about indie film, Like Crazy, in which she stars alongside Anton Yelchin.

Marilyn Minter's Oozing Desire - Linda Yablonsky writes about artist Minter's slow-motion video "“I’m Not Much But I’m All I Think About" in great detail -- with lots of $10 words. Some of them she made up, I think, but still an interesting read and a great reminder that you should use great, unusual words.

Fatties Need Love Too (An Uncool Read)

2011-11-06T00:57:00.000-04:00

I'm sorry, but I have a bit of trouble with women who think a size 12 is fat and that a man can't love them when they've gained a few pounds. And bam! There in the back of the November 2011 issue of one of my favorite magazines, Marie Claire, is an article titled "Til Pounds Do Us Part." Written by Theresa O'Rourke, the piece is about how the author gained some weight and the weight was coming between her and her husband.

O'Rourke begins the piece with five paragraphs about her and her weight gain. Altogether the piece is 17 paragraphs long. She only really gets to talking about her "rock-star lean" husband in the seventh paragraph, which suggests to me that her piece is less about her husband than the weight gain. And possibly the piece is really about how her husband's view of her was influenced by her own feelings that she wasn't sexy.

Her husband comments in the twelfth paragraph that if she looked like she had when they married, they'd "have 10 kids by now" and this triggers "the most honest talk we've ever had," O'Rourke writes.

Her conclusion is that her husband's laziness influenced her and thus she gained weight. "For every way we enriched each other's bad habits, we had caught each other's bad habits, too, like a cold," O'Rourke writes. "And we knew that without care, we would just keep passing them around."

Still, after this, she concludes that the "care" had to begin with her and so she joins a gym. That's how she wraps it up. Really?! This piece at 740 words tries, but fails to make any single, strong point.

If the wedded couple were at fault for each other's flaws, then why weren't the two of them going to the gym together? (And as an aside, if the husband is so rock-star lean, then how was it his laziness that made her lazy?)

Also, she mentions stress causing her to drink a little more than usual at the beginning of the article. Might not her inability to handle stress productively be part of the problem?

Furthermore, if the author's own unease with her body -- and her mentioned unsightly wardrobe -- are really to blame for her husband's own lackluster feelings for her new shape, then what about dealing with her own issues? There are skinny women who have expressed disease with their lack of curves. If O'Rourke really gained the weight in the "right" places, i.e. her breasts and butt, then what's so bad with her new shape? Google image-search the words "5'3 and 165 pounds," which is how much she weighed after gaining pounds, you'll see some normal-looking women.

What's wrong with normal or even slightly overweight women? Especially if you own it?

So, I beg of you, what was the point of "Til Pounds Do Us Part"? Journalistically, it definitely could use some work. For any modern-day feminist, it's a bit of an outrage.

Cool Reads: Writing for Writers, 11/4/11

2011-11-04T23:13:00.000-04:00

Here are a couple of blog posts from The Renegade Writer that I think are really useful.

5 Tips to Finding Story Ideas That Sell - This post on The Renegade Writer is really informative for newer freelancers like me. Most of these tips sound a lot like the information Becky Batcha, Philadelphia Daily News editor, gave my class about generating story ideas. Still, it's good to read these things a few times so it all really sinks in.

5 Packaging Ideas to Make Your Article Idea Stand Out -- Instead of submitting a query formatted in the usual way, why not entice the editor with a quiz or with clever subheads?

Becky Batcha, Philadelphia Daily News features editor, on finding story ideas

2011-11-03T18:26:00.000-04:00

Batcha, a newspaper editor, says journalists should
view the world through "story goggles."
(Eye candy courtesy of weheartit)

Today in Magazine Article Writing class, we had a visitor: Becky Batcha, features editor at the Philadelphia Daily News. Batcha, who got her start in trade magazines and has since freelanced and edited at national glossies, daily newspapers and weekly alternatives including the Boston Pheonix and the now-defunct Child magazine. During her talk in our class, this sometime Temple University adjunct professor, talked about how to find story ideas, especially trend story ideas.

"Philosophically, you just need to have your eyes and ears open," Batcha said. You have to wear story goggles, Batcha said. This means you have to be prepared to view the world differently than normal people. To illustrate this point, she put on a pair of oversized black-framed glasses. As a journalist, "you need to be able to spin a story out of just about anything," Batcha said.

You have to know what makes a good story. For trend stories, the idea has to be new. "Anything that makes you say 'huh' might be a story idea," Batcha said.

Next, she showed us some clips she'd written and pieces she'd edited and explained where the ideas came from.

One such example she provided was the source of a story she edited, entitled "Childhood: The New Battleground State," which won the 2007 Clarion Award for magazine coverage of a major news event. This story, about how the nastiness of politics trickles down to students in elementary school, came from an anecdote a friend told Batcha over dinner. Batcha's friend's child came home from school and said that they couldn't vote for Al Gore because he was a baby killer. This anecdote got Batcha's wheels turning and she assigned the story to writer Susan Warner.

Just last week, she went for a walk around her block and noticed that the Halloween decorations weren't just black and orange but green and purple. From this "germ," she came up with a story for the Philadelphia Daily News on the change.

Then she provided examples of how she'd put together a trend story. One such example was this:

Batcha, who is a firm believer in reading everything you can get your hands on, read this tidbit in Leslie Kaufman's article, "Stone-Washed Blue Jeans (Minus the Washed)" which ran in the New York Times yesterday: "To customers seeking further advice, Levi Strauss suggests washing jeans rarely, if at all — the theory being that putting them in the freezer will kill germs that cause them to smell." After reading that, she got to thinking about a couple of other trends she'd heard about: Those with curly hair are shampooing less frequently because they believe it's better for their hair. And her son, who's in college, told her that people aren't using deodorant. The three of these together would make a great story called "Permission to Be Totally Gross? Granted." for a female consumer magazine.

A couple of other things she shared with us:

For her first pitch, she read a lot written by the editor she wanted to pitch and channeled her voice when she wrote her pitch. Of course, she'd also done a ton of research.

LexisNexis is a great resource; any idea you get you should check on Nexis to see if it's been covered.

"Every magazine editor reads the New York Times every day," Batcha said. And we should too, she asserted.

Finally, cold calling and cold pitching works! The editors don't need to know you as long as you can prove you're a good writer.

Cool Reads: 11/1/11

2011-11-01T11:36:00.001-04:00

There's a fantastic oral history of Ms. magazine, the first magazine run by, written by and made for women, on New York Magazine's website. Check it out here.

Cool Reads: 10/31/11

2011-10-31T09:30:00.002-04:00

Here are the articles caught my eye today:

- Mona Simpson's eulogy for her brother Steve Jobs (The New York Times)
- "Desperate Housewives: The Reinvention of the Main Line Mom": Proof that motherhood just isn't enough -- even if the jobs they take on don't involve curing cancer (Philadelphia)
- This piece about fiction writer Wells Tower's week spent working in a marijuana coffee shop in Amsterdam, titled "My Kushy New Job." Has the makings of totally fantastic gonzo (or ganja) journalism! (GQ)

(Above image from weheartit)

Cool Reads: 10/30/11

2011-10-30T17:45:00.000-04:00

Some of the stories I'm reading (or will print out so I can read them):

- Frank Rich on Occupy Wall Street
- An interesting Q&A with Rich on Sarah Palin's political career
- This article about Adam Gopnick's new book The Table Comes First: Family, France and the Meaning of Food. I definitely want to check out the book!
- "Gravel Pit" by Sasha Frere-Jones about "The voice and times of Tom Waits," a musician revered by one of my favorite musicians, Jessi Teich.
-Published back in September, I just got around to reading Jonathan Safron Foer's piece, "Speechless," for The New Yorker's The Talk of the Town section. It's a fantastic, if brief, exploration of how we're capable or incapable of discussing difficult things.

The coolest thing I've read all day?

Johnny Depp's recollection of his friendship with Hunter S. Thompson, author of the novel which The Rum Diary is based on.

The COOLEST Read

2011-10-27T16:21:00.000-04:00

I die. There are very few times when I quote reality TV stars, even such a popular stylist as Rachel Zoe, but this is one of them. A friend of mine, Peak Johnson, wrote a profile of me for The Huffington Post.

Enjoy!

Cool Reads: 10/14/11

2011-10-14T23:32:00.001-04:00

Journalism students should read all the time. Here are a few suggestions in case you're in training like me, or are just looking for something interesting to read.

Blog Posts & Short Articles:

"Why You Can Thank Modern Family for the Sitcom Renaissance" by Josef Adalian: This blog post over on NYMag.com investigates the resurgence of the half-hour TV sitcom. It's not a sociological thing as some might think; it's really just good business following the success of Modern Family.

"Google Said to Be Planning an MP3 Store" by Ben Sisario: The New Yorker's Media Decoder blog reports that Google is planning to sell music. Why did they wait so long? "Google may be hoping to announce its store before Apple opens its latest cloud music program, iTunes Match, which was unveiled in June and is expected to be operational by the end of October," writes Sisario. My guess is it's also connected to the recent death of Apple's Steve Jobs. But why his death is expected to affect business in a negative way is beyond me...

"Occupy Wall Street: Art Meets Politics in Zuccotti Park" by Zach Pontz: Really captures the mood of the movement's artists and protestors. "This is something that is rare for me. I’m a creative guy, not a political guy, or a business guy, but at some point it became clear that there’s no way to get around this issue anymore," artist Wolf Geyr told Pontz.

Longer Pieces:

"The Hunter in Johnny Depp" by Nick Tosches: You learn something new every day. Like the fact that Johnny Depp loves the word "Fuck," and all of its forms. (To read the full article, pick up a copy of the November 2011 Vanity Fair issue.)

"Why Me?" by Ian Parker: Based on his roles in 30 Rock and It's Complicated, I've had a crush on Alec Baldwin, who's about as old as my dad. Sadly, this article -- proving that he's far removed from the cocky man I found attractive -- killed that weird crush, but I really enjoyed the writing.

Two Pulitzer Prize winners visited class today

2011-10-13T22:57:00.000-04:00

Neal Santos of Philadelphia City Paper took this
picture of Wendy Ruderman (left) and Barbara
Laker in their workspace at the Daily News.

Can you spell the word "AWESOME"? It truly is the best descriptor of today's Magazine Article Writing class, during which Pulitzer Prize winning journalists Barbara Laker and Wendy Ruderman from the Philadelphia Daily News. Here are some highlights:

Wendy: It's a really fun job. [On talking to strangers:] That's the best part is going to the streets. It's a pain but then once you start, it's really fun... [But] People want to talk to you.

Barbara: People in the neighborhoods want to talk to you.

Wendy: Some stuff -- door knocks [as in seeking to talk to the families of the victims of tragedies] -- I hate.

Barbara: You'll give whatever it takes to get the story. Be empathetic and connect [to your sources] on a personal level... Once you give someone your word as a reporter, you have to keep it.

Wendy: There's always the police version [of a story] and the other guy's story and everything in between.

Barbara: People are gray and you learn that the more stories you do.

Wendy: The older you get the more thing start to bother you [she said, referring to cases such as the story you write setting free a drug dealer].

Barbara: [On getting someone to talk who doesn't want to] You have to appeal to them and think, 'Why would they want to talk to me?'

Sometimes our political future really terrifies me

2011-10-13T22:36:00.000-04:00

Admittedly, I'm not very politically savvy -- certainly not as savvy as a Philadelphia committee man and journalist should be -- so I occasionally turn to my favorite media, magazines, to shed some light on the fuzzy stuff.

Today, I'm reading "Debt and Dumb" by Simon Johnson and James Kwak over on Vanity Fair's website. It discusses the Tea Party's attack on Alexander Hamilton's legacy. According to the following quote, it's also attacking institutions and agencies that help citizens. "Rick Perry, Mitt Romney, Michele Bachmann, and the rest of the Republican candidates are running for president on the idea that today’s federal government is far out of line with the original intent of the Founding Fathers," write Johnson and Kwak. "The Constitution, in Perry’s view, permits only a narrow and specific list of activities to be run out of Washington—and Social Security and Medicare are definitely not on this list."

The writers go on. "With their steadfast resistance to taxes, their hostility toward central government, and their willingness to risk a national default, today’s Republican candidates tap into a different American tradition—one that begins not with tea but with whiskey: the Whiskey Rebellion of 1794."

Excuse me if I'm wrong, but aren't all of these insane Republicans also filthy rich? I'm sorry, but they can pardon with some of their wealth to support the health and well-being of senior citizens (if these wingnuts will support no one else, why not the senior citizens? Do these Republicans wish everyone to work until they die?).

The article goes on with an interesting history lesson that I think these Tea Partiers should pay close attention to...

Cool Reads: 10/9/11

2011-10-09T21:54:00.001-04:00

As you should know by now, I'm studying magazine journalism at Temple University. While I've had some experience through internships and running M.L.T.S. Magazine, I still have a lot to learn. As often as I can, I'm going to do a post like this with a few good stories I've read. Here's one for today:

This New York article about the NBA owners calling for a bailout. It illustrates just how murky the basketball league's finances are and adds something else to the list of things Occupiers should fight.

Check out my baby, M.L.T.S.!

2011-06-16T16:59:00.000-04:00

Open publication - Free publishing - More beauty

M.L.T.S. Magazine finally launched its first issue last week. Check it out here, through Issuu, or head over to MagCloud and order your own paper copy for $15. Part of this goes toward helping us build our business!

I really hope you enjoy it. Check inside for a reprint of a previous VTPJ post!

Hopefully I'll be posting here more often in the next few weeks. I miss you guys and I hope you feel the same!

Sorry I've Been M.I.A. (I'm Also M.L.T.S.)

2011-04-28T17:38:00.002-04:00

Please pardon my absence. By now, I'm sure you're aware I periodically go into hibernation, at times with warning, at others without. This time I haven't really been getting much rest. Instead, I've been busting my hump to try and launch M.L.T.S. Magazine, my new baby and Vered's The Penny Jar's little sister.

M.L.T.S., as Mama will heretofore refer to the magazine, is an online quarterly publication for college-aged women driven to achieve all their dreams. This is the modern girl who wants it all and wants to look great doing it. She is Wendy Healy, Nico Reilly, Victory Ford, in college. That's the elevator pitch, at least.

It is so much more than just this to me. It is my dream. For a while, I've wanted to start my own magazine. I first made my own magazine in 6th grade; I'm sure you've read this story. That little rag was called RoZgIrl, had a limited run of just 10 copies that I painstakingly copied on my parents' table-top copy machine. This magazine sparked controversy among my classmates and it never came out again. After that I tried to make Rosie magazine and Couture & Culture both a reality. Neither were produced on any scale.

With the creation of Issuu.com, a little more experience under my belt, and the emptyiness I felt following my separation from The Temple News, I finally decided now was the time to launch. As of right now, we've got a wordpress blog. The first issue will go live on or very soon after June 6th.

And apart from my mother who doesn't understand why I decided to push forth on this at this point in my life, it has had pretty good reception. The PR reps I've been in touch with to get stories, interviews, samples, etc, have all had kind things to say. Journalism students are loving the idea and applying in spades to write for us.

So while I'm sorry that I haven't been posting regularly here, you can imagine how pleased I am overall. Ahhhhhhh, I'm making something happen! It's a great feeling.

I'm going to try to get back to blogging here about my personal views on things. If you don't hear from me for a while, check out M.L.T.S. (or do so anyway!) and follow me on Tumblr, where I post quick notes, pictures, and videos. I hope others who have the desire to start their own projects consider Notes From An Editor their inspiration.

A Flash Collection

2011-03-08T01:44:00.000-05:00

After playing with InDesign a little, I produced this: "A Hard Knock Life," a set of two flash fiction pieces.

Check it out!

Open publication - Free publishing - More stories

I'm considering publishing my novel in a serial format through issuu.com...

Love Lesson No. 3: Shared Interests Aren't Everything

2011-03-05T12:32:00.002-05:00

This is a series of lessons I've learned about love, arranged in no particular order. These lessons have been gleaned from personal experience, friends' stories, movies, books, magazine articles, etc. If you want to share a lesson you've learned about love, email me (rosellaeleanor@gmail.com).

When Tom Hansen described how perfect Summer was for him, his little sister said something very wise. "Just because she likes the same bizzaro crap you do doesn't mean she's your soul mate," she told him.
Read more »

I make mistakes and when I do, I apologize

2011-03-01T14:38:00.001-05:00

In my last post I called someone I work with some very unfair things. My basic complaint -- that this girl doesn't really communicate with me in a way I would like or consider appropriate -- remains, but by calling her names I am no better.

I am very sorry for the way I reacted.

This is not the first time I've had blogger's diarrhea. On occasion, because I'm only human, I blog about a situation that is upsetting me and although I know they're just my feelings and opinions, I write stuff that others might take as fact or hold against the person or thing I wrote about.

This is something we are made to consider in journalism classes and it's something I wish I'd considered this morning when I wrote that post.

There is a mature way to stand up for yourself when you feel like you're being talked down to, and name calling isn't it.

I only hope others can learn from my mistakes.

Walking tall

2011-02-23T15:36:00.002-05:00

My mother's always pestering me about my posture, and yeah, I do need to learn how to pull my shoulders back and push my sweater puppies out there. But today, whether you can tell by my outward appearance or not, I'm walking proud.

For the past few days, I've noticed that I have this new sensation -- the feeling that someday someone is going to walk down the same streets I do now, thinking "Rosella Eleanor LaFevre walked this pavement!"
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Love Lesson No. 2: The Honeymooners

2011-02-21T10:00:00.007-05:00

The most popular post I've ever written here is "Phasin'," which has up to this very moment received 143 pageviews. In that post, I wrote about the honeymoon phase which is supposed to be the first 90 days of any relationship. Today, I still believe that the honeymoon phase does not have to end -- or it can, at least, last a much longer time than three months.

Chris and I, as of Valentine's Day one week ago, have been together eight months and it still feels like we're phasin'.
Read more »

Protecting your writing

2011-02-20T12:22:00.006-05:00

For over a year, I've covered the adjuncts' move to unionize for The Temple News. Two of the stories I've written about adjuncts were uploaded to a website called AdjunctNation.com without the permission of myself, my editors or the paper sponsor.

When I discovered that one of these stories had been made subscriber-only content with a false disclaimer that the compensation went directly to the writers, and that the other had no byline at all, I contacted a lawyer. While he couldn't represent my case because his firm only takes on businesses as clients, he offered some advice. While he said copyright usually lies with the writer from the moment a story is written, I probably had no case because I hadn't registered my work with a copyright office.

This happened about a month ago, and since then, the website has taken down the non-byline story (and hasn't paid me for my other story which remains online).

Today, I found an explanation of a writer's rights on the website of the American Society of Journalists and Authors. Because I don't want this to happen to anyone else (although I guess it is inevitable), I wanted to share this with you.

Wise Words: 'Puff up and bluff'

2011-02-19T20:54:00.002-05:00

I've been a little nervous to pitch myself or my ideas to the media markets I want to see my byline in. But after reading the following advice from Laurel Touby, founder and senior vice president of mediabistro.com, I know I need to get over that.

"Sometimes you have to puff up and bluff about things. Too often, women feel as though they are not prepared for a task or an assignment and so they don't go after it. We expect that if we are great at what we do, someone will notice and offer us plum assignments. Well, that's not always the case. There are times when you have to say 'I can do that,' to a boss or potential employer and rise to the challenge. Don't be afraid. Guys do this all the time and get away with it!"

This advice is part of Jones New York's Little Black Book of Career Advice, a collection of wise words from lots of important women. It's a must-read!

Things we do that boys aren't supposed to see

2011-02-19T12:28:00.005-05:00

When I'm alone, if even for just a few moments, I open the Photo Booth application on my MacBook. My face is one that looks different depending on the day, the way my hair falls, the lighting, the angle of the camera capturing it. For my own posterity, I sometimes like to take pictures, posing and puckering my lips, thereby creating a sort of growth chart of my good (and bad) looks. Some days I look older than others; some days I look cute and whimsical while on others I am serious and sad.

It's just something I do, but which Chris doesn't understand. He's finally caught me doing it, and I'm worried that him seeing this thing I'm embarrassed to do in front of anyone is the beginning of the end of our honeymoon phase.
Read more »

Love Lesson No. 1: Vulnerability is important

2011-02-19T11:12:00.003-05:00

Scott Schuman, the Sartorialist, told New York magazine's Amy Larocca about how his fashion blogger girlfriend Garance Dore's fragility is becoming:

“I grew up reading designers’ ideas about women, like: She’s so strong, she rules the world, whatever. I wouldn’t want to be with a girl like that, who’s type A. Garance is smart, driven, all these great Corsican qualities of self-determination, but she’s totally fragile. Totally insecure. That’s a real human. That’s the whole package.”

It's very important, I believe, to be able to be fragile or vulnerable with our loves. No one can be type A, 100 percent of the time.

Improving my odds?

2011-02-17T13:52:00.003-05:00

Yesterday, after a few months of writing disappointment after writing disappointment, the editor of Metropolis's VoxPop section bought an essay of mine.

If I've learned one thing about writing success, it's that there's really no way to guarantee it.

Literary magazines, for instance, tell you to read the submission guidelines and back issues so you can see what kind of fiction they publish. There usually is no connective tissue between the stories a magazine publishes. It seems to me that it is simply what they like when they read it, and the moods of editors -- like all other people -- can change twelve times a day.

A professor told me and my classmates that the only way to guarantee we get accepted is to keep submitting. Even that advice seems false to me. I've sent out stories to over 65 markets in the past two months and of the roughly 25-30 responses I've received, only one was an acceptance. And that was a shocker because the story was one of the few that I didn't consider very good.

While it frustrates me that there really is no way to improve my odds, I'm praying that my luck grows and that I start receiving more acceptances.

image via weheartit

Tips for a stellar journalism resume

2011-02-16T16:42:00.002-05:00

My resume is my badge of honor. I'm constantly updating the thing, and I love any opportunity to show it off -- although I've never had a resume T-shirt. I've had a few questions from other journalism students about how to put together a resume. Here, I'll provide you with 8 tips for a stellar resume.
Read more »

In my book, great reading inspires great writing

2011-02-16T09:00:00.004-05:00

Last night, my little writer's group met. I say little because we're averaging at four writers per biweekly meeting. One of the members of the group, an adjunct professor I've interviewed for adjunct news stories and with whom I studied creative writing last semester, shared a 25-page story that just seemed to move me.

On first read the ending left me unsure of my feelings, but after skimming it during our discussion I realized how much I truly liked the character and how much I loved the story.

It was simply inspiring to feel that way, and I must say that the nights I spend surrounded by writers are some of the most inspirational I've experienced.
Read more »

Who do you think you are?

2011-02-15T13:07:00.000-05:00

"Why do you as a white person get to decide what people spend money on?" Gangly Girl said in response to one student's statement that money reparations paid to black Americans would be a radical idea because who knows what they'd spend it on.

Not thirty seconds before, she said, "They could spend it on sneakers."

Gangly Girl, who the hell do you think you are? You're really starting to piss me off.

Romantic words we have trouble saying

2011-02-15T09:00:00.002-05:00

I want to grow old loving you.

This was the sentiment of one of the more romantic Valentine's Day cards I saw at Rite-Aid yesterday. I wanted to buy it because I do feel that way about my boyfriend. Feeling this way and saying it out loud (or even in a card) are very different concepts.

Most girls, I think, myself included, are scared to actually share these words with our boyfriends. What if he thinks I'm crazy? Or, What if he doesn't feel the same way? Many of these are the same doubts that arise when we consider saying those three words, "I love you."

And certainly, our parents would think we're crazy. Who could know that they would want something for the rest of their lives? Sure, our perspectives will change over time.
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V-Day: A Retrospective

2011-02-14T13:04:00.001-05:00

It's my first Valentine's Day with a special someone -- my darling Chris -- and I've got a night class. Pssh! After years of fantasizing about having a boyfriend on V-Day and one year of supposedly being over the idea, I've got my wish and we're doing nothing.

But I don't want to complain. I've done my fair share of that over the years...
Read more »

Playing devil's advocate

2011-02-13T01:47:00.004-05:00

It's terribly awkward being a white kid in a race class. Everything you say can and will be used against you. I've been afraid to blog about this for the very reason that I'm beginning to fear speaking in class: that I be made to feel like a big bigot.

When I opened my mouth to offer an opinion of the implementation of guilt in teaching children about slavery and racism, I was attacked both times by some gangly white girl who works at the coffee shop and dresses like a hipster. What her beef with me was, I'll never quite know.

After reading Joe Feagin's book The White Racial Frame: Centuries of Racial Framing and Counter-Framing, our class was discussing counter-frames and news ways to counter the white racial frame -- the way American society rationalizes the systemic racism against black people.

I offered up my opinion that in teaching children about slavery and racism, invoking guilt can sometimes lead to resentment. Every year in school I learned about slavery and racism and every year I was made to feel like it was my fault an entire group of people had been oppressed for centuries prior to my birth. Over time, this has led to my feeling resentful. Why should I feel guilty for something I, nor my ancestors, had any part of? Furthermore, where was Feagin's mention of reverse prejudice, which I've seen in action.

Gangly Girl with her shorn black hair and blue leggings-as-pants attacked me for my mention of reverse prejudice. Then the conversation moved on.
Read more »

Journalism Success: Tips for students

2011-02-12T15:45:00.007-05:00

On Friday, Lena Chen posted an interview with freelance writer Caroline Kinneberg, which I guest edited, on her blog the ch!cktionary. This came as the result of contacting Lena to say I'd read an essay she wrote for Glamour magazine and how much I loved her website.

So far, I think I've been pretty successful as a writer. I have over 50 clips in my portfolio; I have written a two columns, covered a beat, written reviews of everything from film to literature, and blogged about relationships. Sure, I'm having trouble breaking into the big glossies -- Marie Claire, Cosmopolitan, and ELLE are magazines I would love to write for -- but most people do and I'm not out of college yet. The one thing I can say, however, is that I have a resume to rival most college juniors and I'm pretty proud.

Lately, I've writen articles for College Magazine's Career/Success section, and I've writen about my journalism experiences on this blog for a while. I'm going to start doing so more regularly.

I'm not sure how many journalism students read my blog, but here are my tips for getting those internships and other writing opportunities. Some of this I know from experience and the rest is what I wish I'd thought to do.

1. Maintain a blog.
I started blogging here before I finished high school and have continued to write about various topics here. One mistake I continue to make and which you should learn from is not posting regularly enough. It's definitely a good idea to plan out an editorial schedule. Also, you'd do well to focus on a specific subject or small range of subjects. Or, you should cover a wider range of topics with the same tone and perspective carried through, which is more the approach I've taken.

2. Build a blogging network.
Reach out to other bloggers who cover a similar topic or use the same tone/perspective. Link up and offer them the chance to write a guest post or ask to interview them. Either way, when you give them space in your corner of the World Wide Web, they'll link back to your blog on their own and their readers will likely become your readers. If nothing more, comment on other blogs and include a link to your own -- just be sure you're contributing something unique to the discussion. This is something I'm only beginning to do, but which I believe can never be done too early.
Read more »

The condensed soup method of writing

2011-02-11T20:44:00.003-05:00

Just read Kelly Klepfer's interview with novelist Connie May Fowler, whose most recent book How Clarissa Burden Learned to Fly was published by Central Grand Publishing in 2010, on Novel Journey. who revealed that she wrote this most recent novel first in a condensed 50-page version and then she expanded it.

"I think fear prompted me to write How Clarissa Burden Learned to Fly in 50 pages," Fowler told Klepfer. " I feel if I can simply get it on the page, even in condensed form, I can then go it and turn it into a novel and not an abridged version."

I wonder how many other authors write this way.

What is good writing?

2011-02-11T19:22:00.000-05:00

I've heard this question posed many times and I've heard several attempts at an answer to it. Some focus mostly on the technical aspects when talking of "good writing." Others speak more about the storytelling -- these are the elements of plot, character, message or theme, etc.

A good writer is someone who can mix both technical expertise and engaging storytelling and get it down on a page, I'd say. But even this is open to interpretation.

What is makes writing technically good? I wince every time I see "had"s and "will be"s. I cringe when I read the phrase "beginning to." And please, dear God, get your verbs right! Avoid clinical words like "displayed," I would tell you.

Then there's J.K. Rowling who uses plenty of helping verbs and has made more money than I can bear to think about. People love the Harry Potter series and while I admit that she's a fantastic storyteller, I can't bear to read the books because I think she's awful, technically.

"There are rules for good writing," Susan Cheever writes in Louisa May Alcott: A Personal Biography. She doesn't, sadly, list them.

What do you think the rules of good writing are?

On truth in fiction

2011-02-06T11:55:00.002-05:00

Emily Dickinson's house in Amherst, Mass.

Over at Beth Kephart Books, the Dangerous Neighbors author posed the question "Truth or Fiction: Does It Matter When The Lines Get Blurred?"

For me, this is a particularly interesting question to consider, as my "fiction" is generally infused with a lot of "truth." Particularly seeing as I'm working on a new novel -- finally! -- which is the product of my experiences, those of friends, and fiction. A compost project, really. It took me a year and half since writing my last novel to come up with an idea I felt confident in.

And while Chris has said to me that he's a better fiction writer because he's much more imaginative -- which is true; he can come with anything -- I don't think that being as strongly inspired by real life makes me a bad writer. The fact of the matter is, like Kephart wrote, "The only interesting life, on the page, is the shaped life, the contemplated one, the one sifted for meaning and insight."

To be able to combine real life experiences with fictional elements in a way that gives them shape makes me, I think, at least a good fiction writer. I hope that I'm great, but I'll leave that up to the public to decide.

Read more »

The hunter and the hunted

2011-02-05T11:26:00.002-05:00

Reading Susan Cheever's Louisa May Alcott: A Personal Biography, I came upon this quote:

"If marriage is a woman's goal, her primary job is to make herself attractive to men. A look at clothes and advice we give young girls makes it clear that attracting a man who will be a provider is still one of the major jobs a young woman has in our culture. We give them Barbie dolls and makeup. We tell them to be calm and quiet and to remember that men are predatory hunters so that successful women must pretend to be tantalizing, elusive prey."

This is all quite true, unfortunately. My question, however, is how much of this, the seemingly unidirectional aim of young women toward marriage (or just a relationship) is a natural inclination? Is it a lingering survival instinct? And is there anything wrong with a young woman wanting simply to get married and have babies?

I'm not talking about myself, but I've heard a few girls say that her goal was to set up her life for a husband and children. My gut reaction is Oh my goodness, what's wrong with her? Although I do look forward to that part of my life, I also really want to achieve things like getting a book published and getting articles accepted at national women's magazines. Some of the girls I've known who have said such things about their life goals seem to have very few other passions.

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True love is easy

2011-01-28T01:21:00.006-05:00

I arrived home today after spending two days snowed in with Chris, and remembered that although my Harper's Bazaar had arrived a week or two ago, I hadn't found time to read it. Sitting down to catch up on "Cougar Town" and "Castle," I flipped through the national glossy magazine, which in the recent past has seemingly only published articles about topics other than fashion if they're book excerpts.

In the February 2011 issue of HB, there is a one-page article by Alex Kuczynkski, who normally covers beauty topics and wrote a book called Beauty Junkies, about the secret to a happy marriage. That secret? Ease.

She argues that one should not have to "work" at marriage; that the love should be easy and continue to grow, not diminish. "But the notion that we ought to choose to remain in love doesn't wash with me anymore," Kuczynkski writes. "Love is a commitment, but the idea of choosing to work at your marriage sounds like a drag."

I may not be married, but I definitely agree. Love should not be hard. And drama does not a happier or more meaningful coupling make.
Read more »

On mating and our expectations of the opposite sex

2011-01-13T02:02:00.008-05:00

After I met my (new) Prince Charming on OKCupid.com, my father, who has been single since he and my mother separated, decided to create an OKC profile. Since the time he signed up, he's logged many an hour winking at attractive women within an appropriate age range, and many of these leads have led to nothing.

Maybe a week ago, Dad winked at a woman and complimented her full, wavy hair. She responded and said she thought they weren't compatible physically, which she amended by saying they were interested in different body types, and then said that my father's plans for the future didn't match hers.

Similar communiques from other women have had Dad asking me why women are responding in this way to him. I've shared with him my theory, and I think I'm truly on to something. My theory is that a good portion of middle-aged women don't take online dating, and perhaps even dating in general, seriously. By middle age, it's possible that these women have built lives that make them happy and they've only got room for a man if he's "perfect."

I wrote "On women, superficiality and the new Prince Charming," on December 17th after reading a conversation on Facebook between two guys about how superficial women are. My original thesis was that women aren't too superficial and that even if we are, it's not necessarily the fault of women that we have unrealistic expectations.

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With a little elbow grease

2010-12-26T21:57:00.002-05:00

Becoming the person you want to be with the things you want to have. Could it really be as easy as making clear what you want in life? I'll tell you what. I really believe it is as easy as admitting what you want and then doing some work to achieve it.

I wanted, since I was a senior, to intern at two.one.five magazine. I repeatedly applied and finally got it. After writing multiple times about what I wanted in a lover, I found one who is at least most of those things. When I was a junior or senior in high school, I pasted pictures on my agenda book of items that I wanted to own and the above Prada purse was one of them. Now, I finally worked to have enough money to buy myself one. I also decided I wanted my very own e-reader and mentioned it to Dad. He bought me a Kindle for Christmas.

With a little bit of elbow grease -- or the occasional green ink -- I tend to get what I want.

While I may not be able to fix my broken family, which is the one thing I can say without a doubt I never pictured for myself at 19, I can build the life I want, and get the things I want. While I realize that there shouldn't be much emphasis placed on material goods, it's fun to amass such pretty, fun objects.

I'm feeling pretty blessed, and it's not often that I've said that.

On women, superficiality and the new Prince Charming

2010-12-17T13:10:00.003-05:00

A friend posted this question on Facebook: "Is it OK for a guy to be sensitive and caring for other people, or does that make him look like a sissy and a punk?" I was not the only one who responded to the question asked, but the dialogue quickly turned from the idea of the sensitive man to a derision of women as wholly superficial.

While I've always had a Twisted Sisterhood-type relationship with women, I don't think we're all that superficial and even if we are, it's not entirely our fault. When it comes to each other, yes, we're superficial, and, sure, we're a teensy bit superficial when it comes to guys, but I don't think it's because we're mean. We certainly don't realize that our "superficial" expectations or needs of men won't and can't be met; these preferences are bred in us from the time we are infants. Cinderella marries the handsome and perfect prince, so we're convinced from a young age that we must and will find our own Prince Charming.

It's a plight we're not exactly the creator of. The images we have of the perfect man to be with come from the media, and as much as it disgusts me, the media is largely controlled by men like Rupert Murdoch who have their own biases and, on some level, will do just about anything to sell their product. It began, I believe, when someone recognized that giving women a book or movie where the female protagonist ends up living the perfect life with the perfect man on her arm would sell a lot of those books or movies. Women are still, despite being 90 years removed from the struggle for suffrage, fighting tooth-and-nail for everything they want and it's in our nature to want everything, and as this is the case, the movies that show a successful career woman ending up with a good, kind, sensitive but strong man automatically appeal to women. The problem lies in the fact that we're now so overloaded with these images and presentations that it's hard to separate fact (that all men are imperfectly perfect and even if a guy knows what to say and when, he's probably a player) from fiction (Prince Charming).

Alas, after things like the TV show Sex and the City, which so many men defame, at least some of us have come (or are coming) to the realization that men are not perfect but that one who loves you and supports you, even if he is so strong-willed that he won't tell you when something's bothering him, is the new Prince Charming. Sure, he may sit butt-naked on your white couch or leave his used teabags all over the house, but if he makes you feel happy, even for ten seconds, every day, then you've got a winner. This, my dear readers, I am happy to say I have found.

A small victory

2010-12-15T16:20:00.002-05:00

In a fit of ambition this weekend, I submitted various short stories of mine 36 times (I submitted multiple stories to certain outlets). Since then, I've received four rejections and one acceptance. The email from Fresh! Literary Magazine announcing they'd published my short story "Urgent Care" on their website was my first acceptance from a literary magazine. I felt like a balloon set to burst when I got that email on my beautiful little BlackBerry. Not only was it published online, but it will be considered for publication in their February anthology.

This reward for all of my years of laboring over my fiction (and my intensified efforts over the past few weeks) has not indicated to me that I've made. Surely, I'm not that naive, but how refreshing it is to have an objective third party confirming my greatest hopes and granting my dearest wishes.

It's like winning a huge battle in a war you thought you had already lost.

To stop beaming is hard. I love writing; it's the one thing I've always been good at and the one thing I've always wanted to do. If I want to continue getting my fiction published, I'd better get back to writing it.

If you read the story and want to share your thoughts, feel free to email me!

xoxo,
R.E.L.
rosellaeleanor@gmail.com

(pic from weheartit)

The problematic point of view

2010-12-13T12:34:00.003-05:00

Lately, and especially when it comes to this blog, my baby, I've been worried that my writing is hitting too close to home. I do not wish to make people look bad, as a lot of my writing is simply meant to be therapeutic, a tool to help me work through my world and to put things in perspective. My views on things are not necessarily the truth -- it's just a point of view and I know that. Still, I have occasionally gotten myself in trouble with friends and loved ones for the things I write. Now that I'm reading Susan Shapiro's Only as Good as Your Word, I feel a bit better.

Shapiro writes, "When students express fear that their family will disown them if they divulge too much, I tell them to just make sure they become successful, since most people are starfuckers and vanity often overrides privacy."

Since I will stop at nothing until I am a published author with plenty of assignments rolling in (and this is already kind of happening, thanks to The Juniata News, The Temple News, and StudentCoupons.com, for which I'm doing a little editing), I'm pretty confident that any anger or resentment will be short lived.

(Image courtesy of weheartit)

Shout out

2010-12-01T11:03:00.002-05:00

Quick note. I interviewed author Beth Kephart for two.one.five a few weeks ago and today, I got a shout out on her blog. Check it out here. Pretty cool.

God rides the 3?

2010-11-22T00:58:00.006-05:00

Every day I go to Temple, I ride SEPTA's bus route 3. And nearly every single time I'm on that bus that goes from the Frankford Transportation Center toward Strawberry Mansion, someone is preaching about God. Typically, it's an old black woman talking to another old black woman or maybe a young person who she thinks is especially deserving of her sermons.

The thing is, I really struggle to believe in God. At least in the way that these women view him, as someone you devote your life to. I live according to different beliefs. The overarching belief I live by is that I can do anything I want to. The power, I like to think, is in my hands.

And even if there is a God, I imagine that the optimal relationship with him is more like the relationship between an employee and their employer. The more you put into your 401K, the more the company will have to match.

I think this is exactly how one should think of God's gifts to him or her; God will only match the effort you put into your life. If you do nothing to lead a good life, to achieve the goals you have, then God will not help.

More than this, I believe that the Christian notion of God as this all-mighty being that you must serve all of your life is a farce. What a selfish God he or she would have to be to expect every single human to live their life in service of him. I do believe in being a good person, in being righteous and accepting and forgiving. I just don't believe in serving a master. Honestly, when you think about it, Christianity is a system of slavery to a master that hardly anyone has ever interacted with. And after all the lectures and classes I've taken on the enslavement of Africans in America, I just can't subscribe to such a belief system.

So, old ladies on the 3, the next time you want to lecture about God, I will whip out this sermon of mine.

(The above picture was taken by Lauren Townsend, in the Woodland Cemetery in West Philadelphia.)

Dream come true

2010-09-20T00:48:00.007-04:00

I finally got it: the internship I've wanted for two and a half years. Ever since I attended the two week long Urban Journalism Workshop at Philadelphia's Daily News and heard one of the publishers speak, I've wanted to intern at two.one.five magazine. I applied right before my senior year and actually even got an interview. Unfortunately, I didn't get the position because the editors thought my school schedule would prevent me from really learning anything.

I sent my resume a couple of times last year and never really heard back, although I did profile their fashion and music editor Abigail Bruley for Motivos magazine.

Finally, after talking with my beloved professor George Miller about how I was getting shot down everywhere and didn't know what to do next, emailed two.one.five's editor-in-chief Piers Marchant. After some back and forth and submitting a 330-word review of the Australian indie Candy, I was asked to interview.

That interview was Friday and I got the position!

Piers looked through my clipbook and said "It looks like writing comes easily to you, whether it does or not. It's a good thing... And I'm not just saying you're good. I make it a point not to tell students they're good writers if they're not."

He told me about the new website the two.one.five team is working on and what he'd like me to do (cover film reviews and write some fashion-related content). He asked when I could start.

"Monday's good for me!" I exclaimed.

So tomorrow at 11:30, I will show up to the magazine's office and introduce myself to the other editors (all of whom were mysteriously missing on Friday). I even get to sit in on a staff meeting.

It's amazing when you take a giant step toward your dream. After the interview, I couldn't stop smiling and I could hardly breathe. Maybe that's why there were stars in my eyes.

Rejected reject.

2010-09-08T13:48:00.004-04:00

When I approached my supervisor at work this morning, she said, "I heard you had something in the paper."

"Yes, actually I've had something in both editions published so far and something in each of the next few editions. I counted the other day and this is my 20th clip for The Temple News," I said with a smile.

"That's great, you know you could add that to your resume," she said, eyes wide and mouth pulled up and out in a wide grin.

If only she knew what my resume looked like. It would blow her mind. And yet, I'm faced with writerly rejection almost every day. Today I received an email from the head of Temple's Writing Center that read:

Hello Rosella,

Thank you for applying to be a tutor in the writing center. Our hiring committee has carefully reviewed all of your application materials, but I'm sorry to say that we will not be interviewing you for further consideration. As in every semester, we had many applicants for a very small number of positions. We must review these applications relative to one another, placing specific emphasis on papers that reflect the kind of carefully researched, problem-posing approach to writing that is most valuable to a tutor in this center. You might consider reapplying when you've had the opportunity to write more in-depth papers in your major, and review the guidelines for writing samples on the Writing Center's website. I apologize for having to deliver what I'm sure is unwelcome news; we wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors at Temple and beyond.

Not only did I receive that today, but I received what has to be the 20th rejection of my fiction (which pales in comparison to the 800 rejections Ray Bradbury got before publishing his first story, but it is no less painful). Furthermore, I queried 5 agents back in March or May and only heard back from one (clearly this was a rejection email).

Also, I've submitted my resume and clips for what is probably the fourth time to two.one.five magazine where I have wanted to intern since the summer before my senior year, and after the editor-in-chief reviewed these things, he said he needed to see more -- a 300-word review of something -- (this is pretty customary, actually) and I have yet to hear from him. This was last Thursday night that I sent my 330-word review of the 2006 movie Candy.

I don't know how much more rejection I can take without knowing what's wrong with me. Because that's the thing -- every rejection I receive is as uniform and vague as the email quoted above. I can see the tears welling up. Writing is the one thing I'm good at and which I love to do. If I can't make it in writing, I'll die.

I feel like part of me is dying.

Frustrated. ARGH!

2010-08-29T22:59:00.002-04:00

Back to School. Those words and the subsequent sales on notebooks and new pens and other supplies used to make me sublimely happy. Even if only for the first few weeks of school -- until the normal bitching began.

This year, as I prepare for my second year of college (even armed with cute new Harajuku Lovers school supplies), I couldn't possibly dread anything more. I can't even quite tell you why.

I do know that I wish I was done already; that I wish I was living my life outside the realm of classes. I hate that I have to pay to subject myself to the whims and fancies of professors. I'd rather be subjecting myself to the whims and fancies of a boss and getting paid for it.

Perhaps my apathy toward school is also wrapped up in my recent failure to snag a rad internship or other writing-related gig. I recently took a fact checking test at Philadelphia Weekly, where I've been dying to intern since I met contributor (and beloved professor whose magazine writing class I didn't get into) George Miller in July 2008, only to be told there wasn't room for me this semester. There was no room for my proposed column on affordable living while in college for The Temple News' Living section. Oh, and the status of my application to be a writing tutor at Temple's Writing Center is up in the air.

As the handwriting analysis guy told me on campus on Friday, I'm feel frustrated and am only 75-85% of the way to reaching my goals. Which is pretty outrageous and annoying when I put in a thousand and 1 % effort.

And the one thing that's going well -- my relationship with Chris -- is being put under pressure from all sides.

I'm under pressure from all sides.

And I really don't want to have to worry about what other people -- except possible employers -- think of me. If only I had some marginal journalistic achievement to help me feel like I do in fact know what I'm doing and that even though this is slow and painful, I'm headed in the right direction.

Gah. I kind of just want to SCREAM!

Reticence on the subject of your relationships, or lack thereof

2010-07-30T17:36:00.007-04:00

Why can't we just shut our big, fat mouths about our coupledom?

It's a particularly pertinent question for a journalism student who, taking every job offered her no matter the pay, took a position writing about relationships for HOSTAGE magazine. Five posts a week means you've got a lot of material to create and as has always been my modus operandi, I turned to personal experiences for the bulk of my posts -- even when it's just a little anecdote to open a piece about a post by another writer.

What does this mean for my relationship with Chris? I've never asked specifically if he minded being written about, I guess I figured he should expect it as a fellow writer and, honestly, I was scared he'd say no. Then what the hell would I write about? I've sort of made it a rule not to disclose very personal matters -- and I stray as far from personal sex stories as humanly possible -- and I like to keep stories of whispered sweet nothings and impromptu slow dances to myself.

I'd like to think I succeed at writing Carrie Bradshaw style by relating personal experiences and those of friends to diatribes about overarching themes -- and I seek to answer questions and solve problems most people might encounter in their own relationships. See, I feel relationships are a huge part of who we are -- whether they're familial, friendly or of the romantic nature -- because we spend so much time surrounded by other people. Of course, our relationships with ourselves are majorly important as well -- and that's what I try to focus on in this blog.

So, I turned to CB for her thoughts on the matter. There's an episode in season two of the fabled TV series where my hero just can't shut up about her failed relationship with that unicorn, Mr. Big. "Really, I pity him," she says a little too emphatically before her three girlfriends launch an intervention ("[S]top her before she obsesses again," as Miranda says). It's not about the state of their relationship -- or that it's ended -- the thing is Carrie always talks about Mr. Big -- and Aidan, and Berger, and Petrovsky -- to her girlfriends and to readers in her weekly column.

When they intervene, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte suggest a therapist. Carrie asks why she needs to pay someone when she's got them. "Look, we're as fucked up as you are. It's like the blind leading the blind," Samantha responds.

What really sparked my investigation into this topic was Lesley Dormen's article "Secrets and Lies" in the August issue of ELLE magazine. Dormen, a happily married woman for the past 14 years and obviously a writer, encountered a very similar question. "When is it okay to talk about your marriage, when isn't it, and who decides? Is privacy a trust issue, a loyalty issue, or more about context and intention--invasion of marital privacy versus lunch with your best friend?" Dormen wrote.

Further on, she wrote, "Why is marriage so determined to close the door behind itself? Are we ashamed of ourselves, of our messy married lives? What is it we're hiding? Or protecting?"

I've been guilty of invading married privacy out of curiosity. As a young person who has been in only a handful of relationships, I'm always wanting to know how marriage works. I've read that in order to help your relationships, it helps to talk to your married friends. And when one website listed the ten things every single person must do, on that list was "Talk to someone your age who is married."

It seems human nature to talk to at least our girlfriends about our relationships, writes Dormen. "The freedom to exchange private information about boys is one of the first ways we declare our independence from parents. We learn early on that boy talk is a social lubricant."

Even Drew Barrymore, cover star of ELLE's August issue isn't immune to boy talk with the girls. "I talk shit with my girlfriends, and it can get dirty."

If everyone does it, is it so wrong? Why do we do it? Is it that boy talk is one of the oldest ways of fulfilling our desire to be seen and heard, a desire so prevalent in today's reality TV obsessed culture? Is it that boy talk is the only topic everyone has an interest in and that everyone has something to say about?

Are all guys as reticent about their relationships as Dormen's husband? I know Chris asks guys at work for advice about sex things... the nature of which I won't divulge here. But how much does he tell buddies about me? He's often professed how differently he acts at work. So is he more talkative or more quiet? Who knows.

Because of popular movies and such, most women have a concept of men as vulgar pigs on the subject of sex (Barrymore said in ELLE, "In a lot of ways, I feel like I have a little bit of a dude inside me--except mine happens to be a 13-year-old boy, not a full-fledged man.") but what about the regular stuff?

In the end of "Secrets and Lies," Dormen writes about the benefits of sharing your marriage with others. "The telling," she writes, "lifts the veil from no one's eyes but your own." Producing a narrative surrounding your relationship, she says, whether to friends or in writing, helps the sharer to better understand him or herself and their partner. The pulling away actually brings you closer Dormen states.

For now, I'll continue doing what I've been doing, writing about us without delving too far. Because as Dormen writes, "for me, as for many writers, private life is my material."

(The above image is a closeup, shot by me, of a token card and tickets from Dave & Buster's at the Franklin Mills Mall where Chris and I played skee ball before seeing a movie.)

Further notes on mission impossible

2010-07-29T15:51:00.003-04:00

In my last post, I wrote about how, no matter how hard I try, I can't be perfect. The one thing I realized that night, along with that, is the second you think you've got yourself figured out, the second you think you've worked through your issues, new ones crop up and you've still got something to learn.

I am not complaining -- I actually find it comforting to know that life won't (maybe ever) hit a wall and never change. It's nice to know that everyone can continue to grow and change without having to force it.

It gives our interactions with others more dimension, as well. And in terms of romance, who wants a static relationship?

Perfection: Mission Impossible

2010-07-28T19:29:00.003-04:00

I apologize for the rambling that was my last post. I'll have to edit it a bit. But when I posted it, from my friend's iPod Touch while on Percocets after my wisdom teeth extraction on Wednesday (all four and they were impacted). I believe you'll understand even if it kills me to not write perfectly -- at least to my usual standards.

Speaking of aiming for perfection, readers who've been with me on this journey for a while probably know how I want everything and want to do it with poise. If you're a newer reader, I've now told you (instead of showing, oops, another writing boo-boo).

Yesterday was the height of this. After a night with very little sleep -- I'd slept from 11:30 p.m. till 4:40 a.m. waking once in between time and as 5 a.m. approached, my dad turned on the light in the living room where I slept and after that, I couldn't sleep a wink -- I accompanied my dad to a surgical checkup. See, five years ago, he had bladder cancer. It's back and this checkup, the second with a month's time, was to see how bad it is.

So I went to the hospital with him and when he was back from the recovery room, they let me see him. He didn't look good. He was shaking and they'd had to leave a catheter in with a bag to collect urine. I got scared. He said they'd had to take a good deal of tissue. He started to grow perkier and he smiled even though we all knew he was in pain -- the most he'd ever had after one of these surgical checkups -- and my nurturing instincts kicked in.

When we got home, I made sure he had what he needed. Because I can't drive yet, I had to wait for Chris to get off work so I could go to a grocery store and CVS to get his prescriptions filled. But it wasn't very long and when Chris came and got me we headed to the CVS.

Of course, I sucked at directing him where to go. We found a route that was pretty quick actually and not really out of the way but it wasn't the way I normally go. And when we got there, they wouldn't fill dad's Percocet prescription because the doctor didn't put his name on it. I almost had a fit although when I called my dad he was calm about it.

Then we went to ShopRite and because I rarely ever go grocery shopping and they keep changing around the store, I had no idea where anything was. I ran around like a chicken with its head cut off. Thank goodness for Chris who helped tremendously.

When I was almost done, I realized I hadn't placed my order for seafood -- dad wanted shrimp (although I was a tad nervous in his condition) and that I'd now have to actually stand around waiting for it. To top it off, Chris was tired and ready for bed and I wanted to get done so he could go to bed.

I was a mad woman last night. Of course, after stopping at Wawa to get cigarettes and coffee for dad and Chris, we got home and brought the bags in (or should I say, my boyfriend the HULK, who did it in one trip). There I realized we'd forgotten to get the prescription.

On the way to CVS again, I realized something. I was trying to be my mom who has always been so put together, doing everything for everyone.

It's impossible to be Wonder Woman. I try. But it's impossible. I just have to come to terms with it.

Absense made me feel lucky

2010-07-23T01:14:00.004-04:00

This weekend I spent time with my family -- my Grammy, Aunt Cindy and her husband Ed -- down in North Wildwood. This meant I was away from Chris for just about the longest we've been apart in the two months we've been together. We were going out of our minds being apart. Every phone call we made, we said a thousand times how much we missed each other. A couple times I actually felt physically ill!

I couldn't wait to get back to his arms and kisses. Still, I was almost scared by how much I missed him because the other thing his trip threw into sharp relief was how I rarely feel like I'm surrounded by people who see the real me. It worried me that I feel I have so few friends (there's Ashley and Michele but that's about it). I then told Chris that I was terrified of becoming the girl who only has her boyfriend.

I think this offended him a tiny bit but then he said something that made a shitload of sense. He said that the only difference between a boyfriend and a best friend is that you kiss -- and do other stuff with -- your boyfriend. Suddenly I realized how right he was and that I should be thankful because I've got a relationship that other girls would kill for. I'm kissing my best friend. It doesn't matter that we don't know each other's every story yet but we're happy and comfortable enough to tell each other anything.

I'm so thankful to have the few great friends I've got and I now know how lucky I am to have
boyfriend who is in my corner. I'm happy he's not the only friend I've got but I know I'd be lucky to have even just Chris.

Impressions

2010-07-16T13:12:00.002-04:00

Last Saturday was spent in Atlantic City with the family of one of my best friends. Ashley and I have been friends since we met in 8th grade at Conwell Middle Magnet School here in Philly. We were both part of the Principal's Leaders Academy and were stationed at the ladies room, patrolling the kids. Most of these periods were spent working on my valedictorian speech, which I was chosen to deliver at our mutual delight. Then we went to the same high school and through ups and downs, we've always come out of it together.

Then, last weekend was only the third time I'd seen her since we went to separate colleges. She's at the University of Pittsburgh's Bradford campus while I'm still here in the City of Brotherly Crime.

On Saturday, a major theme of our conversations was how glad we were to have left high school behind. She told me how one of her former teachers -- who I'd never had -- was talking to her on Facebook about who she had stayed friends with from high school. There were, like, four of us, she told him. He asked who. When she got to me, he said something about how I'm a girl that's going places.

I was surprised he even knew who I was. In retelling their conversation, Ashley said that our freshman year English teacher had told this other teacher that she and I were his favorite students.

It's funny how you can leave impressions on people you had no idea about.

(The above image is of me and Ashley on my 17th birthday. 2008.)

Home isn't just a Glee episode

2010-07-13T02:33:00.003-04:00

Yesterday, Michele and I had a conversation about our favorite Glee episodes -- yep, your favorite blogger here is far from immune to its musical pleasures -- and mine were Wheels and Home. Probably because both episodes touched on major themes or experiences I've had. The former is pretty obvious but maybe not the latter.

The thing is, for longer than I'd like to remember, I have felt out of place in the various living situations I found myself in. When I was fifteen years old my parents separated and my mom moved me and my sister to an apartment roughly a half hour from our childhood house.

Then out of the blue, she had a serious boyfriend. And quite quickly, I felt really out of place. They played his reggae music really loud and turned sporting events so loud that I couldn't hear the movie I was watching. To my eyes he was treated like a king, while she acted like his handmaiden.

I made it clear that I disliked the situation -- and him -- and I was the one who was ostracized. I spent whatever time I could in my room -- whichever makeshift room it happened to be at the moment -- and hoped for someone to rescue me.

Read more »

A story that needed to be told

2010-07-01T21:08:00.005-04:00

A while ago I was reading Melissa Blake's Psychology Today column Disabled and Thriving and left a comment on her "Disability 'Dating' Rules?" about my experience dating someone with a disability. She loved my story so much that she shared it on her personal blog as part of her Tales from the Trenches feature. The story received nine comments before I saw that she'd reposted it and everyone seems touched by my story. As a write whose aim is to inspire, inform and entertain the public, knowing that my story has touched them is the greatest compliment of all.

Click here to see the full post on So about what I said...

STAND UP, FOOL

2010-06-23T01:15:00.002-04:00

I have four words for you, whoever you are: Stand up for yourself.

It sounds so simple, but you can't expect someone else to stand up for you. And no one should be expected to stand up for you, with the possible exception of your parents. But even they fail to do so half the time. Hence, you gotta do it yourself.

Posting might be sparse for a little while. Going through some things -- and need to sort them out in my head before I can tell all here. Don't worry about me though; I got my own back.

(Image via weheartit)

Another inch...

2010-06-14T10:57:00.004-04:00

I've been googling freelance writers after reading their articles in national magazines to see what else they've got going on. I've been shocked to find that most of the time, about three of the top ten results are actually about or by the writer whose name I typed in. When I google myself (yeah, kind of pretentious, I know), all of the top ten results are about or written by me. Perhaps this in and of itself is not a measure of success but thinking about what this early exposure could mean for my career has my blood pumping! I just might be writing for national magazines in no time...

(Image via weheartit)

Measures of success

2010-06-14T01:32:00.004-04:00

Ever feel like you're actually achieving your dreams? If you have, you know that it's like a drug; it's the best possible high. Well, I can only imagine since I've never actually been high. But that doesn't negate the immense rush I get looking over my portfolio of published clips (which contains upwards of 35 clips), just one measure of my writerly success a la Carrie Bradshaw.

Another measure: I was recently hired as a relationship writer for HOSTAGE magazine.

And another: I got an assignment from and was published in my neighborhood newspaper The Juniata News for which I will receive my largest paycheck to date (for something I wrote, I mean).

And another: This blog has gotten a few comments of late from people I'm not biologically related to or Facebook friends with (because you know I inundate my virtual friends with reminders to read my humble life-and-love blog).

And another: I got an email today from an admirer of my online portfolio (which I've already plugged once in this post) inviting me to join a fashion website that is sort of a mix of Twitter, Facebook, and answers.com. This website is still in beta and you can only join by private invitation from a founder or an 'in' person.

Sorry if this post is more self-congratulatory and pompous than usual. I'm just so excited and this excitement -- when not being overshadowed by the normal, run-of-the-mill, everyday stresses of life -- has been a really big thing lately.

My career goals for the near and far futures:

- Get accepted as a contributor to Sex, Etc. while I still can; they only take people 19 and younger and as my 19th birthday's approaching, my time is waning.

- Write some essays for Metropolis (for which I would be paid, which is always nice).

- Perhaps get a column in The Juniata News (as guaranteed and continued income is always nice too). Or maybe write a relationship column for The Temple News. (Both clauses of this bullet point are wholly dependent upon how much material I would have left over after fulfilling my duties for HOSTAGE).

- Pitch articles to more magazines (even the national glossies -- although of course I don't expect they'll be accepted).

- Be named as a Blog of the Note.

- Perhaps, someday, get a book deal (either for my novel or for turning this blog into a book). Although this last thing coming to fruition isn't exactly something I can ensure.

Well, there you have it. Things are looking up for me, romantically and career-wise. Let's just hope this doesn't send other things to shit!

Every day is my birthday

2010-06-12T22:58:00.002-04:00

Today, Chris asked me what I'd like for my birthday. Honestly? I have no clue. The only possible gift idea I've come up with being a Patricia Field for Payless Shoe Source shamrock necklace. But I thought that wasn't the right gift suggestion for my honey. All I really want for my birthday is to spend it with family and friends and possibly a trip to the beach.

Perhaps this is what it means to be a grown-up; realizing that the material things aren't so important -- and that anything you want you can buy yourself -- and that time spent relaxing with loved ones is a precious commodity.

I didn't know what to ask of my parents for Christmas either. And my last birthday? Of the few material gifts I received, I think I knew of half of them beforehand.

But that doesn't solve my problem of what to tell Chris to get me. What is a girlfriend supposed to want? Maybe I could ask him to buy me a teddy bear. Or jewelry. Or lingerie.

I honestly don't want anything more than to spend time with him. And I get that quite often. So it's kind of like every day is my birthday.

Die, you stupid Xerox machine

2010-06-09T13:31:00.004-04:00

I'm going to say the thing that everyone is thinking but maybe doesn't want to say, maybe won't even dare admit it to themselves. I hate being a working adult. It blows.

I only work two days a week and for five hours. It's nowhere near as bad as working five or six days a week, I know. But when you're doing work that a monkey could easily handle and being treated like you're incapable of doing said work, there's nothing to do but bite down the scream clawing at your throat.

Every morning I have work, I wake up ten, maybe 20, minutes before my 9:30 a.m. alarm, worried I've missed it. I am not even sure that I don't wish I would miss it. Then I get up when my alarm rings, go to the bathroom, and hop back in bed for 11 minutes (until 9:45 a.m.).

Then that alarm goes off and I've got no choice but to force myself to throw on some clothes -- I'm supposed to follow our strict and grammatically incorrect dress code -- and grab whichever purse I need that day and run out the door. Then of course, I have a tendency to miss the 3 bus that comes at 10:12 a.m. when it comes a few minutes early and I'm about 50 feet away from the bus stop.

Then I get to work a few minutes before 11 a.m. and yet, the computer I use to log on to record my time stamp, always takes a few minutes to load -- meaning I stamp in at 11:01 a.m. and, according to my supervisor, have to wait until exactly 4:01 p.m. to log off. Because that one minute will make a difference in my pay. Christ.

I try to get through each day by remembering that working here gives me money so that I can go out with friends and Chris after work and on the weekends, etc. It's a struggle but it helps a little.

Now.. it's 1:30 p.m. I get a half-hour break for lunch and then it's two more hours till I'm on my way to Chris'. I can't wait.

Grief and prayer

2010-06-06T00:07:00.003-04:00

A friend I graduated with lost her 3-year-old daughter on Friday. I'm speechless. Losing someone you love is hard, whoever it is and whatever your relationship. Chris said today -- about a different situation -- that grieving is a process and eventually you get over the loss. I'm not sure that you do. Another friend of mine lost his dad and he and his mother have not and say they will never get over his death.

More than that however, I question the merit of prayer. My friend who lost her daughter asked for the prayers of her friends through Facebook. And while I will pray for her because she asked, I wonder what good it will do. I guess I could pray that she "gets over it" but will she? I doubt it.

After disaster struck Haiti in January, Christians in all places were holding prayer circles for the Haitians. After hearing about one such event, I asked "What the hell is prayer gonna do?" My grandmother said, with great disappointment in her voice, "It helps, honey, it really does."

This coming from the same woman who later that week took one look at a bumper sticker that read "I'm blessed," and said, "I wonder what makes her think she's so blessed."

Clearly, my Grammy's religious beliefs are as deeply rooted as my own.

Whether prayer works or not, I hope that my friend will find a way to get through this ordeal and even if she never gets over it.

(The above image is of Susan Sarandon.)

Amen, sister!

2010-06-04T15:36:00.002-04:00

"Women are innately self-conscious. This is not a choice; it's a genderwide condition. On a bad day, I look in the mirror and see my ten-pound-heavier alter ego. Her name is Bertha. On a really bad day, Bertha sees her two-hundred-pound-heavier alter ego. Her name is Brian Dennehy." - Alyssa Milano

To read the other 74 things guys don't know about women, click here.

(The above picture was taken in 2008 when I interviewed Milano for a summer journalism workshop.)

Putting the 'merry' in 'go round'

2010-06-04T02:47:00.004-04:00

Wednesday night I was talking with my friend Michele about life... I told her about taking my sister for a manicure and pedicure in preparation for her prom and Michele said that for all of the good I do, I don't deserve the shit that I've had to put up with. And that she thinks Chris, who is turning out to be everything I said I wanted in a guy, is just the beginning of my lucky streak. Sometimes my life feels like it circles back around to the same problems, the same crap. Here's hoping the go round gets even merrier.

(The above photo is from Le Blog de Betty.)

Learning curve

2010-06-01T23:17:00.006-04:00

I can't hold my breath for very long underwater. This is unfortunate when your family insists on torturing you for all of your shortcomings. I can't serve a volleyball. I'm not athletic. As a kid, I was always chosen last for teams in gym. And I'm okay with this.

Except when my mother and sister take to teasing me for this inability to punch a white quilted ball at my boyfriend on the other side of the pool.

See, in celebration of Memorial Day, my family had a pool party on Sunday at my Aunt Cindy's and it was the first time I'd taken a boyfriend to meet my family. Chris held up better than I did, I'd say.

They didn't hassle him much. In fact, most of my family probably said less than 10 words to him. But everyone seemed content with belittling and teasing me in front of him. Some people -- not me -- can let this kind of thing roll off their backs. I've always held the opinions of my family members in high regard and hate that nothing ever seems good enough for them.

My Aunt Cindy and Grammy told me I need to work harder in college (I got one "C" and three "B"s this last semester) while they announced to everyone my two male cousins' very high GPAs. Not that I'm not proud of Danny and Eddie. I truly am. But there was a time when my family even questioned whether the boys would ever go to school (my cousin Danny is 26 and just concluded his first semester), so clearly their excellence in school is a delightful surprise. But for me, the girl who graduated seventeenth in her class, not only was it expected I go to college, now I'm expected to get straight A's. It's too much pressure for one person.

And this lecture from my elders on doing well in school came in front of Chris.

I've never had to worry about what my family thought of a guy -- at least not my extended family. Chris is the first guy I've ever dated to even meet my dad and now he's met the rest of my family. And all in one day he's seeing how they see me and the way I see myself in my family's funhouse mirror.

I can't even begin to imagine how bad I looked, ducking under the water to avoid the barrage of comments about my failed attempts at athleticism. I am simply embarrassed by myself. It's hard when you want to control how someone sees you because you just can't. You can only hope that they find your faults endearing and that they will appreciate you for everything you are -- and everything you aren't.

In the end, I tried following my sister's advice and sent that volleyball soaring over Chris' head at least once... But it didn't feel good as I hadn't done it on my own.

(The above picture is of Robert De Niro and Ben Stiller in Meet the Parents.)

More time than he's worth? Look again.

2010-05-28T02:16:00.008-04:00

I wrote in April of my increased ability to maybe not forgive but certainly quickly forget boys. I had taught myself to pick apart a young man with the skill and precision of the finest surgeons in the world. With my scalpel in hand -- or eye or ear -- I had the ability to quickly decide that a guy was not what he had appeared to be and that I would be better off not wasting my time or attention on him any longer. I also predicted that this would be a dangerous thing.

Turns out I was worried for nothing. Apparently I also have the ability to pinch myself and remember that people are more than they appear and they can certainly be more than just the sum of desirable (and undesirable) parts.

My new boyfriend Chris is proof that a guy can be more than you'd ever imagined. When he took those first steps up to my house, I got worried. He wore a fitted cap; something I considered, as the result of having two male cousins who purposefully bent their brims and adjusted size of the hat with Velcro strips, odd and possibly a sign that the wearer considered himself gangster (or gangsta as I've so disdainfully been reminded by peers). I don't do gangster/a.

Despite this, I reminded myself of his mastery of words so beautifully displayed in those OKCupid messages and texts. This was a guy worth taking a closer look at.

But isn't everyone? I guess one could argue that with as busy as our world is, as much as we juggle on a daily basis, it is uneconomical to spend an hour on someone we're pretty sure, five minutes in, is all wrong for us.

I don't know. I have always sort of given guys who seem all wrong for me more time than most girls probably would. And while, for instance, learning how O.U.A.T.B. rolled was by no means a waste of time, I have certainly spent more than a few hours on guys I wish I'd never bothered with.

This is how we learn, I suppose; the way we discover what's right and what's wrong -- at least for us in terms of relationships. And who would deny themselves an opportunity for growth?

And I have grown. I have learned from every botched relationship -- some of them lessons like: the pasture isn't always greener on the other side and some guys really just like to play games without concern for the heart attached to those strings they're pulling.

Best of all, I have seen hearts of gold in people who are a little -- forgive the overused expression -- rough around the edges. And I'm a lot different from the girl who loved Ben Swann, the kindergarten heartthrob who crushed on the thumb-sucker. Amen to that.

As it turns out, Chris is far from gangster/a. He's kind of a big softy while maintaining a knack for brutal honesty. He's even self-actualized enough that, had I not seen it with girlfriends, he would have sat through Sex and the City 2 with me.

I can only hope that my family will have a good first impression -- and that my cousins don't break his back over the fitted hat.

(The above photo is of Carrie Bradshaw and Mr. Big in Sex and the City 2. The photographer is Craig Blankenhorn. Source: allmoviephoto.com)

Good things do happen

2010-05-18T23:52:00.005-04:00

It seems as though whenever I wonder how much more I can possibly complain about things (particularly romantic endeavors), something good happens.

Yes, I've got a new beau. And boy, did I have a lot of people demanding details when I changed my relationship status on Facebook. It seems every one of my friends thought they should have been the first to know. I know my sister was shocked and awed by it.

Within the span of a few days, I went from no real romantic possibilities to having a cute guy text me first thing in the morning just to start my day off on the right foot. I too am still in disbelief. Just a little.

But I'm happy. Chris is slightly older and he's mature. He's a total cutie. He holds doors and smothers me in playful kisses. I like the way his hand hovers at my back as we walk together and how he sends me less-than-3 hearts over AIM. And I can wear high heels and don't tower over him!

Oh, and he too is a writer. He uses proper grammar. Hallelujah.

Despite outward appearances and my mother's initial reaction ("Who's that?" she whispered to me as Chris stood in the other room. "My boyfriend," I answered. "Oh boy," she said), I think I may have found a really good match for once. He's someone who wants to make time for me and I am really comfortable in his presence.

I always thought that relationships with boys are like a driver's relationship with cars. There's the car you learn to drive in -- the male equivalent lasts you a lifetime only if you're super lucky. Then there's your next car, the one you own when your parents still want to know where you're going and when. Then you get a fairly nice car that you worked for and bought and with which you're pretty much free to do what you want. You might even get to take it on a road trip.

Of course there are the cars you admire -- the ones in your neighbors' driveways and which you see only through the dealership's glass doors (think Porsche or Lamborghini). For the male equivalent, think Gerard Butler or Bradley Cooper. You can drool over him all you want but sometimes all your hard work won't even afford you a pen with which to sign on the dotted line.

Whichever kind of car I'm in now, I'm not sure. But I'm going to enjoy it before I have to make my first payment.

(The above picture is from 2004's The Notebook.)

Decoding Mr. Nice Guy

2010-05-13T03:44:00.005-04:00

All signs point to yes. He's nice to you. You text all the time. You hang out and watch Glee together. But he hasn't tried to kiss you since the first night you met when both of you were really... let's just say: out of it. He backed off when he found out his roommate liked you. And despite the fact that his roommate claims he told this guy that he no longer likes you, that it's cool, Mr. Nice Guy won't do a damn thing.

If any of this sounds familiar, you and my friend Jamie would get along well. You'd certainly have a lot to talk about.

What about he talks to you fervently in English class? Smiles real big when he sees ya? Gives the best hugs you've ever gotten in your life? And yet he ignores your handful of attempts to contact him about hanging out before summer break? You're nervous and confused because he's got a lot of female friends. Or at least that seems to be the case. And you really think you might just be another friend. But your mom thought she saw something in the five minutes she stood in his presence.

Yeah, that's what's on my plate.

I fully understand that not every guy will be into me or my friends, no matter how fabulous we are. That's the way the world turns -- some people strike your fancy, others do not. And while you might be the fire that lights one guy's match, you're not burning down the city.

Yup, I get all that. But how can it be that no one is ever struck by you? Jamie and I have about the worst luck when it comes to guys. And we feel like idiots for being unable to read them better. After 18 (or 19) years of dealing with boys, you would imagine we would have picked up at least a trick or two.

Yet we constantly pose some version of one question: "Does he like me or not?"

It seems we're finally finding ourselves drawn to nice guys as opposed to the garden-variety loser. That seems to be a step in the right direction.

But still, we want to know. How do you tell Mr. Nice Guy from Mr. Totally Feeling You Guy? It's as if our lives were plucked straight from He's Just Not That Into You. Only we don't know if we'll ever be the exception.

False advertising

2010-05-07T09:43:00.005-04:00

Sometimes I wish I had been born the petite, gorgeous cheerleader type. You know the one I mean. She catches the eye of every guy she passes. And she's got kissy pictures on her Facebook with the star athlete, the one every girl wishes she had.

She's not necessarily the nicest person and she's very likely not the smartest person you've ever met. She probably can't hold a conversation about anything of consequence. But she's happy. She's got a big, hunky man at her beck-and-call, one who normal girls convince themselves could see them the way they are but who'll never notice them because he'll probably marry the cheerleader. And maybe in a few years, when they've got kids and she's put on weight, maybe then they'll be a little less happy but don't bank on it. They're the golden couple.

I have a theory that god doesn't hand out a beautiful face and good physique to the same people he grants intelligence. It just doesn't happen.

But then again it does. I know girls who are naturally... just gorgeous and built and they're smart. Why them?

Why do I sit here pining after the star athlete who has already found his cheerleader?

Because I'm pathetic. Because that's the way it's designed. It's naturally good advertising. It's nature's way of convincing us that the world can be happy and beautiful and that we can find someone.

Well, bull-fucking-shit. It's false advertising. Because the non-cheerleader girls will always pine after the star athlete even when there's a perfectly adorable band geek standing by. I'm not sure if regular Joes generally pine after the cheerleader girl, but certainly the "beautiful" athletic boys do.

(The above picture is of Dianna Agron as Quinn Fabray from FOX's hit TV show Glee.)

True love's diss

2010-04-30T03:24:00.007-04:00

When I first like someone, I can think only of them -- nothing else. It used to be there was no end to this honeymoon period and I would forever reminisce about the cute boy who worked at Rita's (just one of many such instances).

Lately, I've found that my ability to get over a guy has increased tenfold.

It's likely not a good thing that I have learned to pick people apart and decide whether or not I'm truly attracted to them. I might just be too critical.

I find it incredible that even the sound of a guy's voice can become annoying -- even when it was part of the initial attraction.

Things like a guy's failure to open doors or the way they dress can break the attraction.

What does this all mean?

I think I have become too desensitized. I have been attracted to too many boys, thinking that they must like me too because -- well, he just made steady eye contact with me for upwards of 30 seconds -- and these little crushes never came to fruition in any way. I have come to believe that no one is ever attracted to me -- because honestly, a guy making eye contact can't mean he's interested. He's just being friendly.

"A wise person once told me that if a guy wants to be with a girl, he will make it happen, no matter what," Gigi says in He's Just Not That Into You. And it's hard to disagree. If a guy truly wanted to be with you, he'd make it happen, right? Or at least, he'd respond in kind to one of your moves.

Sure, guys can be intimidated by girls but where does that end? Why is it that the girl's supposed to buck up and make the move? When was it that men decided women had to go 90 percent, and in some cases the full 100?

So after all of this -- the rejections and being blatantly ignored -- I have learned to pick the bones clean so that there isn't a scrap of desire left.

Maybe some day, my Prince Philip will come and with love's true kiss, wake me from the deep slumber that is cynicism.

But then again, I doubt it.

Bridge to nowhere

2010-04-29T22:11:00.007-04:00

Sitting here listening to the strains of "The Bitch of Living" from the musical Spring Awakening!, I can't help but think that Jonathan Groff and the chorus are singing the story of my life.

Of course this has happened with the last few melancholy or "Fuck you, life" songs I've listened to.

At 3 a.m. this morning, while sitting in the TECH center, the lines "Nothing ever goes the right way / Got to live life day by day" from Hanson's song "Need You Now" had me convinced that once again the boys were singing exactly how I feel about my life.

I have been feeling less than human lately. I am not getting nowhere near enough sleep, constantly have a headache, and eat an average of one meal a day. Sometimes it feels as though I'm taking life second by agonizing second.

Is everyone else this miserable?

I feel like I'm crossing a bridge -- that's what college is, a bridge to somewhere else -- and can't see the other side. What's the point of this all?

Dying on a diet of hope

2010-04-23T14:12:00.008-04:00

Yesterday, I saw this painted on the side of a garage: "He who lives on hope will die fasting."

I must admit that sometimes the poetic significance of things flies right over my head, thundering like a 787 Dreamliner, and the meaning of this quote definitely escaped me at first. So, being a member of the Google generation, I figured I could find my answer online. Sure enough, I did. At the aptly named Answers.com.

My answer was this: "hope is not enough to live upon, there must be some material needs met." Yeah, I probably could have guessed this one. Silly me.

But anyhow, I know now how ironic it is that I saw that yesterday since I have been feeling for a while like I am Slimfasting on hope. Everything that can go wrong does go wrong -- and sometimes it's not that anything is going particularly wrong but just that nothing is going right.

My friend Julie is having a moment of ahhhhhhh! as her life pulls together. As she aptly put it at lunch today, "I've got the guy I've always wanted, the car I've always wanted, the life I've always wanted!"

How often does this actually happen to people? Especially to those who truly deserve it? I talked with Julie earlier about how something good has to happen to me.

For instance, I wanted to get an apartment or a house and now I'm stuck living with my dad -- although this has been tempered by the possibility that my best friend Michele might move in with me. I have been losing my faith in my ability to do journalism and have been flailing like a drowning person, waving my hands out for help and I just keep getting pulled under.

I keep hoping that something good will happen and I'm losing my hope. If you've got nothing but hope and that's evaporating too, what do you do?

(The above image of Marlon Brando was taken for LIFE magazine by Edward Clark in 1949.)

Falling fast

2010-04-13T14:22:00.006-04:00

Just had a thought: If God created the world in seven days, how can it be so impossible to fall in love at first sight? (Or at least quickly?)

Think about it!

(The above picture was taken this summer at Smith College, which I only got to pass through with Grammy and Aunt Cindy on our journey to Massachusetts.)

Setting myself apart

2010-04-13T07:39:00.005-04:00

Anytime a guy I kind of like has a lot of female friends, I get worried. The reasoning: I always figure that these girls are friends with these boys because they too at one time had or still do have crushes on them. And if none of these girls were special enough for this boy to want to date, what about me? I think only a wholly vain person could face this situation and not think they could never be what this guy is looking for.

Needless to say, I am far from vain and find this incredibly difficult to face.

How can I set myself apart from the pack of adoring fans? How can I make him sit up and take notice of me?

It's times like these when I try to remind myself that I am a great girlfriend and any guy would be lucky to have me. This is for several reasons, most of which I do believe I've listed before. I'm a good kisser, a fun person, smart, I like to laugh, I am flexible (in all meanings of the word), kind, caring and deserving of love. For some reason, I feel like there's a disconnect between all of this and my outward appearance or at least how I'm perceived by others.

For some reason, nobody sees all these great parts of me. If they did, surely, I would stick out among the masses of girls befriending the boys I like.

Should Have Said movie trailer

2010-04-12T10:08:00.006-04:00

Check out this movie trailer for a short film I'm in. The director, Michele Elaine Hannon, is a good friend of mine. It stars J. David Arnold, Heather Leigh Polchin and myself.

I've had a fantastic time working on this beautiful story with Mirrorwall Films.

xoxoxo

Rubber bullets

2010-04-11T16:24:00.008-04:00

I wish I could turn off certain channels in my brain, control what and who I think about and for how long. It would surely save me some trouble.

I wish I could find a nice, undamaged guy who would love me like he's never loved before. Someone who could make me laugh all day and get me out of my head. Someone who wants to be with me as much as I want to be with him and someone who will make me happy, period.

The guy I want is someone who will hold my hand when he walk, kiss my forehead, give me back rubs and foot rubs and someone who wants to fall asleep in my Grammy's living room with all the men folk in my family after holiday dinners.

I don't even really care about height as long as I can still wear my high heels occasionally. I just care that he loves me and makes me happy.

And I always get to thinking "Oooh, maybe he's the one, the guy who fits this description." And then nothing ever happens. And I wonder, you know, if relationships are really as simple as "He's just not that into you." (I don't know if it's a good or bad thing to watch that movie.)

More than anything I want to stop thinking about any guy who doesn't think as much about me. I wonder if any guy has ever gotten worked up over whether or not I like him. I worry all the time, does he like me or does he not? Could he ever like me? What if I'm too tall or too fat or just too weird? What if, does he, does he not?

These questions are like rubber bullets; they may not kill me but they hurt like hell.

I feel like I'm unintentionally cutting myself and am completely unable to stop. I know they call them crushes cause they hurt but why do I have to crush on anybody?

Parental supervision

2010-04-09T12:36:00.005-04:00

My parents... Boy! Sometimes I feel like I'm the only adult in my family.

Both of them are telling me that the other got nasty when they were talking about filling out my FAFSA.

Both of them talk nasty about each other to me.

One says he or she is sorry I'm in the middle while the other says I'm not in the middle that the other is just acting like an asshole.

I can't even begin to tell you who is the asshole in this situation. I feel like it's me. I feel like it's me because I have to put up with pushing this shit out.

Yes, I just made a vaguely heinous not-funny joke.

I am so disgusted with my life the way it is. I'm starting to feel like neither cares enough about me to put their idiocy aside and it kills a girl to feel like her parents don't care.

It really does slay.

I'm thinking of buying a plane ticket and running away to Europe. Or South America. Or maybe Canada. Somewhere far, far away from the hassles of supervising one's own parents and all the other problems I'm dealing with.

Maybe I'll go to Italy where it's common for married men to have lovers they pay for. That way the burden of living wouldn't actually be on me. But that arrangement sounds about as comfortable as dealing with my parents.

Maybe I'll just go hide at my Grammy's house until my parents stop and wonder where their eldest is. Would either ever notice my absence?

I just want to be free of this and of everything else I've had to deal with lately.

(The above picture is of Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes in Romeo + Juliet.)

Shreds of thoughts, nearly incoherent

2010-04-05T23:56:00.007-04:00

To do the blind date thing or not? That is the question.

Although I guess what I'm considering participating in is a group dinner where a bunch of couples bring a guy for me to meet. It sounds eerily similar to previous awkward situations involving a double-blind date thing at IHOP which ended in a friend of mine dating Vin.

But I'm clearly not getting any dates on my own; even when I smile back at the cute and totally awkward guy a few people ahead of me in line at Sev (the college vernacular for 7-Eleven) -- the same one who stands in my way, still smiling, when the teller calls me up to the open cash register. Not even then do these guys on campus say a word!

(I once proposed to a friend of mine that I would just start punching the guys who stare at me and never say a word and also those that never even look at me; of course, we both recognized the flaw in this plan: I'd have to punch every single guy I saw in my cross-campus travels.)

Strong enough to break

2010-04-02T01:12:00.012-04:00

That's it. I'm keeping score of all the shit that happens to me. Deduct points for every time I'm used or cheated or just generally mistreated. Add points for those rare occasions when I actually get the good things I deserve.

When the game is over, or it's approaching overtime, I'll look at the scoreboard and if I'm not winning on the cosmic scale of life, I'm not going out easy.

I just cannot imagine why everything always goes wrong. I mean, I'm sure there are people who disagree, but I just don't feel like I deserve to work so hard and never have anything go right.

Every day is an uphill battle to make my dreams -- all of them: a happy family/living situation, a good love in my life, getting through school without feeling the weight of the world, making a name for myself in the work world -- come true and my strength is waning.

But I never stop. I am a soldier. Or a force, like my best friend Ashley told me tonight.

I don't know how to not give something my everything. I push and push and push. It's like this trick of physics my friend Michele showed me where you push the backs of your hands against a door frame really hard for 60 seconds and then when you step away, your arms float upward.

Someday my 60 seconds will be up, I'll let go a little bit, step away from the door, and everything I want will come to me as effortlessly as my arms float skyward.

Someday, man.

Every ounce of pain shooting up my arms right now is just a piece of the puzzle.

Someday I'll float.

(This post borrows the name of a Hanson song that has been pretty much my theme song in life. The above photo of Hanson was taken by Bryan Johnson.)

Are you from Tennessee?

2010-03-28T23:47:00.005-04:00

A friend of mine used to have a shirt that read "Are you from Tennessee? Cause you're the only ten I see." It made me crack up every time I saw it and I don't care if admitting that makes me sound corny. Of course I always thought of men like Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt (pre-Angelina) when I saw this. You know what I mean, a certain type of ruggedly handsome manly man.

I never pictured Jay Baruchel, the star of She's Out of My League which my sister and I saw today.

Would have pictured a scrawny kid like him (pictured above)? Probably not. The determining factor in the rating and dating system -- a concept we've discussed in my sociology class -- is outward appearance. How fucked is that?

I am not the most beautiful woman on earth. I'm certainly not as beautiful or well-built as actress Alice Eve, Baruchel's gorgeous love interest in League (also in the picture above). But does that make me any less than "a hard ten"? No. It doesn't.

Caring, smart, funny and there's very little I wouldn't do for someone I loved. These are the things that matter. These are each worth at least two points so that makes me a ten if not a 20.

Watching League made me think of O.U.A.T.B. I firmly believe one of the reasons we didn't work out was because he didn't expect us to. I think he thought I was too good for him.

What I hope he and the rest of us realize is we are all tens in another pair of eyes. We are all beautiful and worthy of love.

I know it in my heart.

My week of blindness

2010-03-27T23:00:00.006-04:00

So nothing that important happened this week. Not a single moment felt life-changing in its ramifications.

Same old shit, different days. Boring. Blah blah.

Hopefully my life will get interesting within the next week so that I'll actually feel like I have something to say or write here.

At the moment I'm simply questioning why I'm in school and what I'm learning from these god-awful classes that appear to have no consequence.

Go ahead, hate on me

2010-03-20T11:38:00.014-04:00

Someone left a comment on my blog post "The world is your wonderbra!" that reads "News flash: You are not Carrie Bradshaw." Whoever it was that did that wasn't brave enough to share their name. This post is a love letter to him/her and the other haters.

Dear Anonymous Hater,

First of all: Because you so clearly have visited my blog and have left a comment, you are what Google Analytics would consider a reader. So thanks for being a reader, Anonymous Hater.

Eventually when I make the move to monetize my blog, you, added to the number of others who read (and enjoy) Vered's The Penny Jar, will just increase my appeal to advertisers. So thanks again, 'cause you're helping me make money in the long run!

Furthermore, I fully realize I am not Carrie Bradshaw. Sure, the fictional narrator and main character of the hit TV show and the movies is one of my influences but it's just that: an influence.

I am ROSELLA ELEANOR LaFEVRE and I know this. After all of the shit I've been through, I wouldn't want to be anyone else.

I do many original things in my blog, Anonymous Hater.

More than that, I am a whole lot more vulnerable in my blog than Bradshaw is in her columns. This is the place where I lay down on a table and open my chest to show you my heart and you have the cowardice to shit on it without even revealing your identity?

You are clearly someone who knows me well enough to know my influences. So I guess that means someone I have been kind to secretly despises me -- for whatever reason.

Unless, of course, you've been reading long enough to have seen some Carrie Bradshaw influence in my work. In that case, I don't need to illustrate the ways in which your original comment is undue. So thanks again for being a reader, Anonymous Hater.

Here's a question, Anonymous Hater: What, if anything, have you contributed to the creative landscape of the world?

While maybe you dislike or disagree with my writing, I have very clearly evoked some kind of strong feeling in you and that, my friend, is what good writing should do. I write and bare my soul and maybe I've touched upon a vein in you that makes you bitter.

And while I am fine with your opinion -- everyone is entitled to them -- I'd like to share a friendly warning: When you send negative vibes out into the world, you get them back tenfold.

Beyond that, please note that the post you commented on was one in which I wished for my readers to be happy and to feel supported, and you attempted to tear me down. Too bad, Anonymous Hater, that you didn't pick on a weaker person. You've become my fuel and I can't wait to watch you burn.

Whatever your wishes for me, I hope you have a good life.

Love,
Rosella Eleanor LaFevre

P.S. In the words of my Girls' High sister Jill Scott:

"In reality I'm gon' be who I be and I don't feel no faults... Hate on me, hater, now or later... 'Cause I'm gonna do me, you'll be mad, baby"

Lovely, lonely ladies

2010-03-19T22:07:00.010-04:00

Last night I stood waiting for my friend Michele at her dorm building when I saw a beautiful young man approach, take out his earbuds and, after racing up the steps, scoop his petite lady love into an embrace. I may or may not be making this up, but I'm pretty sure he twirled her. This sickeningly syrupy-sweet sweep of public affection landed with a thud on my poorly constructed house of lies.

This house of lies provides shelter from my aching loneliness. The lies are: "I'm beautiful," "I'll find someone," "even if I never found someone who loved me that much, it'd be OK" and the biggest lie of all: "I am/this is enough for me."

More like a house of cards than a house of lies -- or maybe not. In essence both of those things are faulty, unstable structures.

Every conversation I've had with my girlfriends in the past couple of days have been about how lonely we are and how much we want boyfriends. I think each and every one of these beautiful young women feel the same emptiness without someone to hold our hands and kiss our foreheads.

Some of us, especially me, spend too much time in our own heads and are convinced -- whether this is right or wrong -- that the right guy would be able to get us out of our heads and living in the moment.

We listen to love songs and cry because we feel so lonely.

Now that the weather has warmed up, we see couples canoodling all over campus and we know that even while some of us make the moves, guys are drawn elsewhere -- moths to candles not our own.

So we say "I love you" to each other in the hopes that the love of our friends is all we need, only we continue to cry at love songs and to want to claw at the throats of happy, boy-loved girls everywhere.

Still, we continue to wonder what makes some girls worthy of the "hey, beautiful" catcall and big, swooping hugs and forehead kisses and hand-holding? We wonder why some girls get all the attention when great girls -- ones who are beautiful, smart, funny, giving, loving and possibly even a little kinky -- stand by unnoticed?

We sit around, waiting for answers and hope that someday God will remind the male species that we're here, waiting to love and be loved.

The world is your wonderbra!

2010-03-17T09:34:00.005-04:00

Something I tend to think a lot about and write a lot about is support. Mostly my need for it...

This morning I was reading Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg and came across this quote:

"[W]e should notice that we are already supported every moment. There is the earth below our feet and there is the air, filling our lungs and emptying them. We should begin from this when we need support. There is the sunlight coming through the window and the silence of the morning. Begin from these."

It reminds of Josh Kelley's song "You Are a Part of Everything," a song I play on repeat when I'm feeling particularly down or worthless. He sings:

"The worst mistake is giving up and pulling back when you've had too much of not knowing where you belong. The one thing I am certain of is time will change each one of us. Before this you're not on your own. So open your voice and be strong. You are not alone; you are what you believe. You are not alone; you're a part of everything. When life gets you down, just set your soul at ease. You are not alone, you're a part of everything."

I hope you feel wonderfully supported and a part of everything today. If the former is something you struggle with, maybe you need a new bra! The latter -- well that's just a matter of listening to more Josh Kelley! ;)

Body love

2010-03-16T22:56:00.006-04:00

With spring's arrival, girls everywhere are stripping down to their bones. While most of us love the chance to show some skin and dress a little more flirty than frigid temperatures allow, the warming air sometimes makes us all the more aware of our bulging bits and cottage cheese.

Sitting here in the aching body of a newly-working girl (I am now employed in the newspaper department of the Free Library of Philadelphia), I am aware of the jiggly fat on my inner thighs and the small ham hocks that are my biceps (you'd be surprised how strong I really am). I am aware and, yes, a tad self-conscious, but then I remember one thing.

That one thing is this: My body is what gets me through the day, what carries me to and from my classes and my dorm and now work. Without this body, I'd be just a spirit and a brain. And while those two things are beautiful and very important, so is my body.

I am tired of hating the skin (and bones and fat) I'm in.

Is it just me or do I hear a chorus of "Amen, sister"?

Spring Break Post #8

2010-03-11T21:54:00.007-05:00

"Sometimes everything is just the worst." - Tina Fey on 30 Rock (pictured above with co-star Alec Baldwin)

Spring Break Post #7

2010-03-11T21:50:00.006-05:00

Sometimes I feel I've seen everything. Then something reminds me that I haven't seen anything.

(The above is a picture I took from the 40-something floor of the Comcast Building in Center City Philadelphia.)

Spring Break Post #6

2010-03-11T21:31:00.006-05:00

Getting my read on. Here's one I coulda told you: "Finally, these dares one made oneself commit didn't change a thing." - Birds of America, Lorrie Moore

Spring Break Post #5

2010-03-11T21:21:00.005-05:00

The theme of my converstions lately: this is not the life I imagined for myself. It's nothing like what I dreamed as a girl.

Spring Break Post #4

2010-03-11T21:19:00.006-05:00

"There was nothing as complex in the world--no flower or stone--as a single hello from a human being." - Birds of America, Lorrie Moore

Spring Break Post #3

2010-03-11T21:17:00.007-05:00

Grammy's watching The Celtic Thunder. They're singing "I still haven't found what I'm looking for," a surprisingly apt description of my current state of mind.

Spring Break Post #2

2010-03-07T19:22:00.006-05:00

Cried to Liz Phair love song tonight. Wish I'd been born the kind of woman that drove men crazy. Sometimes I think love is the only thing worth living for.

Spring Break Post #1

2010-03-07T19:18:00.006-05:00

Yesterday, I made frequent eye contact with a very cute patron at Perkins. Through the entire meal, I lived a lifetime in those cursory glances. I felt hope.