December Recap

 The Farm at South Mnt            ////              Phoenix Art Museum's Op Ed Art

 

Christmas Place Setting            ////        9/11 Inspired Art at Tempe Arts Center

Compost/Wasted Sangria        ////        Firey, Ombre Addition to my Mane

Find me on instagram @grishmapolitan

2014: The Year I Found my Voice

I have grown more in this year than any other time in my life. This could have been the worst year of my life, and I think in April I would have said that it was. But with solid support and some really difficult, no-nonsense introspection (and months of therapy), I'm happy to say that, right now, I'm pretty damn proud of myself.

Because this is the year I...

I grew up in a nervous family. Any sniffly nose or sore limb was treated like I had the plague. Hypochondria became a habit.

This year, I learned to stop freaking out when I sneeze. I learned to accept my low pain tolerance, rather than beat myself up over "feeling weak" all the time. I learned to stop feeling guilty if I want to lay in bed and eat snacks all day. I learned that relaxing isn't a symptom of failure. Even bears hibernate.

But one of the biggest kinds of hypochondria I had to get over was when I felt sad or tired. While recovering from depression, I was really worried that I'd ignore its symptoms again. I learned that it's not good if you feel sad every day, but not every sad day is depression. It's not good to feel tired every day, but you might just be tired because you've been on your feet for 6 hours, paying attention to 30-something people at once. I've stopped downright ignoring my body when I feel sad or tired, but I've also stopped obsessing about it. Some days are happy, some days are not. And that's fine. Because obsessing about whether "this day is the best it could be right now" is a recipe for disaster.

This year, and for many years before it, I don't think I would have said I had low self esteem. I didn't have the typical symptoms. I don't really wear makeup or do my hair, so I don't obsess about it. I don't fuss about my weight or clothes either.

But I did have low self esteem. It just looked different in me.

I was particularly susceptible to "Keeping Up with the Jones" syndrome. I've lived it all my life. Any life decision I made--even though I was never explicitly taught this--had to impress others. I'd always relied on people liking me. I was rarely self conscious about my physical appearance, but almost always self conscious about my abilities. I spent too much energy caring about what people thought, too much time hesitating.  

Remember Robert Frost's poem The Road Not Taken? Imagine if the poem ended, instead, with, "I took the one less traveled by, and everyone gasped the whole time."

Ridiculous.

How self absorbed to think that everyone is watching (and judging) your every move? And how terrible to think that scrutiny is going to do anything even if it exists?

When I became a teacher, I was forced to bare myself in front of 200-something people every day--whether I felt up to it or not. There weren't "big presentations" you prepared for weeks. You had a big presentation five times every single day. And the possibility of something going wrong (i.e. being less than absolutely impeccable) made me so anxious so often, that I felt like the victim of a sappy movie.

If I had gotten a desk job out of college, or anything that didn't require me to see the same people almost every day for a year--no do-overs--I don't think I ever would have confronted this about myself. Or, hell, done something about it. I would have gone along my life taking things a bit too personally and being a little offended all the time.

This year, I learned that confidence doesn't mean walking into a room believing everyone will love you. It seems that way, it's what I was taught, but it's not true. Confidence is walking into a room and knowing that, even if everyone doesn't love you, you'll be fine.

I've spent a great deal of my life trying to be agreeable, for the reasons I explained above.

I've sat through an excruciating hour of a creepy old man calling me "a delectable specimen" five times. A full hour with a man who, after learning I was a math teacher, asked me to "give him a call" once I really figure out what I want to do with my life. I didn't tell him off when he responded to "from India" with "dot India?" I sat completely still while he hugged me from behind. I didn't want to cause a scene. I cared about being agreeable more than being respected.

This year, because I cared less and less about being agreeable, I also became more vocal. I participated in conversations about heavy, sticky topics--education reform, poverty etc.--with confidence. I'm (now) okay with commenting on people's unintentionally-racist analysis of what's going on in Ferguson, instead of staying silent (i.e. neutral, i.e. liked by everyone.) I'm okay with believing that I'm right. With taking bets. With taking risks.

I've chosen authenticity. 

Authenticity is being okay with telling people you don't want to drink tonight. It's being okay with telling people you don't cook, that your fridge is empty and your freezer is filled with frozen Trader Joe's food. It's actually TELLING people these things. It's sharing your feelings, your hardships, your successes.

And don't get me wrong, I'm not an "I don't care what any of you think" type of person. I don't think I ever will be. But the difference now is that I don't think about it 5 minutes later. Positive or negative.

As long as I'm living my life with honesty and kindness, I'll be fine.

Review: Starbucks Via Peppermint Mocha Latte

Every year, I patiently wait for pumpkin spice season to pass and peppermint season to arrive. I'm not even a regular at Starbucks (#ForeverDutchMafia) but their peppermint mochas are one of my favorite drinks of all time.

This year, I got the Starbucks' peppermint mocha packets so that I could have them more often.

It was a terrible decision.

This drink has a chalky aftertaste that wouldn't go away even after I added more sugar and coffee. See that little part that says made with natural dairy? That means you don't add your own milk. It means powdered milk. I thought at first that the aftertaste must be from the powdered milk, but I've had Cantata's instant coffee before, and it doesn't have the gross aftertaste Starbucks' latte does.

The individual packets are pretty big:

But so, so gross. I couldn't even finish a cup.

Dark Places, by Gillian Flynn

"My heart!" I yelled, then crawled up the stairs and curled up next to Bianca. "My heart... This book..." I rolled around on the floor while she finished writing a paper.

No, I wasn't overreacting.

This book broke my heart.

I usually love Gillian Flynn's stories for their plots, but I love Dark Places for its characters.

I'm glad Libby doesn't overcome her obstacles to become anyone's savior. I'm glad she wasn't somehow immune to mental illness after losing her entire family. I'm glad she's not likable, and I'm glad I like her anyway.

I'm also consistently impressed with Flynn's ability to describe things. I've already pulled some particularly good sentences from Gone Girl, and Dark Places, too, is full of "wow, I would never think to describe it that way but you're totally right" moments. Here's what I mean:

"That he took them out to some farm area and performed... acts that are associated with ritualistic Devil worship." He said those words--Ritualistic Devil Worship--the way people who don't know cars repeat what the mechanic said: It's a broken fuel pump."

Flynn doesn't go into this much detail about everything, but when she wants you to experience the story a certain way... man does she do a good job of including concise, specific details.

Lyle isn't just some nerd. He's a guy who "leans out from behind [Libby] like a squirrel." A guy who, when drinking a sweet cocktail, makes a "whoo! noise like it had been whiskey."  He's a guy who still watches bad TV with Libby when he no longer needs her. And if he wasn't these things, I wouldn't like him as much. I wouldn't like any of them as much.

Flynn's excellent characterization is why I didn't see the end coming. And it's also why I was writhing on the floor in front of my friend.

After all, an action-driven story can make your heart race, but only a character-driven story can break it.

//Find me on goodreads//

(Sentimental) Christmas Decorating

I don't have any Christmas traditions because my family doesn't do Christmas. I do love holidays, though. And I have a (fake, plastic) Christmas tree from last year that I wanted to use again. I've seen lots of really cool, themed trees all over the internet, but I wanted my tree to be really freakin' sentimental. 

So I called my friends and asked them to make things for my tree.

Construction paper, markers, Coby's homemade limoncello, candles, and holiday music. It was the kind of warm and fuzzy gathering Christmas is all about.

Here are some of the things they made:

Collin's "Portraits of Us"

An excerpt from Erica's favorite Brothers Grimm story.

Coby's favorite quote of all time.

 Collin's favorite quote of all time.

 Christina's beloved Robert Frost poem with some sweet doodles.

Rose gold colored ornaments that look like melting pinecones. Made by my pal, Target.

Marsala: Pantone's 2015 Color of the Year

I always take Pantone's color predictions with a grain of salt. I don't know if it's because they outright claim that their color pick is definitive, or because, well, it's their business to try to convince you to buy things in that color, but the whole "color of the year" brouhaha always leaves me underwhelmed. My designer friends and architect friends and engineer friends all use Pantone color guides, so I know Pantone's good at what they do. But their color of the year feels like a campaign, nothing more.

I like colors though, so I look anyway.

Pantone is sick of springtime-bouquet colors. Here's a quick recap of their color forecasts from previous years:

This year, Pantone predicts that "Marsala" will be big:

(photo via solopress)

Ever since I started paying attention to fashion designers and their work, I noticed that the colors they chose always trickled down months afterwards. That cerulean sweater scene from The Devil Wears Prada is real talk.

Here's where we've seen Marsala so far:

From Chanel's fall 2014 campaign:

(photo via fashionheavenrants)

Charlotte Tillbury's 2014 Matte Revolution series:

(photo via fleurdeforce)

Most designers seem to pair Marsala up with warmer colors, but I actually think it looks gorgeous with grays and whites:

(photo via designbinge)

Winter Drink: Apple Cider Tea

I wanted to make a wintery drink for a Thanksgiving breakfast, and I also wanted it to be non-alcoholic because, well, it's breakfast. Spiced rum at 9am is still a little trashy, even if you drink it out of a Santa mug. Want a non-alcoholic alternative to spiced rum? 

I found a recipe for apple tea from Serious Eats but I'm not a huge fan of black tea, so I made some alterations to balance out the flavor. (I don't know of any good substitutes to black tea, do you?)

Ingredients

• 1 sweet cinnamon spice tea bag (or any variety of herbal, holiday spiced tea)
• 2 irish breakfast tea bags (or any variety of strong black tea)
• 2 three-inch cinnamon sticks
• 1 25.4 ounce bottle sparkling apple cider
• 1 ounce fresh juice from about 2 lemons
• Garnish: additional cinnamon sticks

Preparation

Place tea bags and cinnamon sticks in a large mug of boiling water (about 2 cups, or 16 oz.) Let steep for at least 10 and up to 20 minutes. Remove tea bags and cinnamon sticks and chill in the refrigerator overnight.

When you're ready to serve the drink, combine the cider, tea, and lemon juice in a large pitcher!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Your Fave is Problematic: Meghan Trainor

If you like "All About that Bass" because it's catchy, fun to sing or dance to, or because you like Meghan Trainor's voice, cool. Your taste in music is your taste. You do you. This post isn't for you.

But if you like the song because it's body-positive, we should talk.

I know "All About that Bass" sounds like an empowering, love-yourself song. But the context within which you should love yourself, according to Trainor, is entirely based on how attractive men find you. And that is not empowering, because you're still giving someone else the power to affect your self-esteem. This song isn't about loving yourself for you who are, it's about being okay with being heavy because, hey, men will still want you.

Compare these verses:

Yeah, my mama she told me don't worry about your size She says, "Boys like a little more booty to hold at night." You know I won't be no stick figure silicone Barbie doll So if that's what you're into then go ahead and move along (All About that Bass, Megan Trainor)

My mama told me when I was young We are all born superstars She rolled my hair and put my lipstick on In the glass of her boudoir "There's nothing wrong with loving who you are" She said, "'Cause he made you perfect, babe" "So hold your head up girl and you'll go far, Listen to me when I say" (Born this Way, Lady Gaga)

This song isn't empowering anybody, it's just making objectification more inclusive ("I'm bringing booty back, go ahead and tell them skinny bitches that.") And if you thought this song was trying to be feminist, keep in mind that Trainor doesn't consider herself a feminist.

Compare these verses:

Yeah, it's pretty clear, I ain't no size two But I can shake it, shake it Like I'm supposed to do 'Cause I got that boom boom that all the boys chase And all the right junk in all the right places (All About that Bass, Megan Trainor)

I wake up looking this good And I wouldn't change it if I could And you can say what you want I'm the shit I'm the shit, I'm the shit, I'm the shit I want everyone to feel like this, tonight (Flawless (Remix), Beyonce ft. Nicki Minaj)

Beyonce's perfection has nothing to do with whether men find her attractive. She doesn't even mention weight. It's vague on purpose, I feel, because there are so many things women feel insecure about that have nothing to do with their weight. Flawless is about not letting your self esteem be affected by your size, skin color, height, accent, how often you do your nails, whether you wear makeup etc. No matter who you are, and how you are, you are flawless.

That's body positive.

Don't forget--confidence has nothing to do with believing that everyone will love you. Confidence is knowing you'll be okay even if they don't.

Sparkling Lavender Lemonade

Here's a light springtime drink recipe for those of you that miss the sunshine as much as I do:

What You'll Need:

• 3 large lemons
• 1 lime
• 1 liter of sparkling water
• 2 tbsp sugar
• 6 tbsp lavender syrup (or 3 oz, if you're using a shot glass to measure)

I like my lemonade on the tart side, so feel free to adjust the proportions to suit your taste! The lavender in this recipe is subtle, so you might want to add more syrup if you want a stronger lavender taste--just be sure to add sugar last, so that you can gauge how sweet the drink became from the lavender syrup.

I stored this drink in a glass bottle from IKEA and brought it to an early-Thanksgiving party. It's always nice to provide an option other than soda for those who don't drink alcohol :) 

I used a dry-erase marker to label the bottle! 

And if you happen to be in the Western Washington area around July, you can grab a bottle of syrup from a lavender farm like I did:

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Starbucks Chestnut Praline Latte Tastes Like...

I'm holding a chestnut praline latte as I type this. Well, okay, not literally. But it's within arm's reach.

Numerous friends and baristas have described this drink to me, and all of them were so vague that I honestly still have no idea what this drink tastes like.

And you're talking to a person who nodded and said "uh huh, totally" while reading about a blind person's description of lemonade as "square" because it pricked his tongue like square things pricked his hands. (The whole essay, by Annie Dillard, can be found here. I forgot how good it is... might have to do an entire post on that one.)

Anyway.

This latte, apparently, tastes like:

"Christmas morning." (what?) 

"Syrup and waffles and christmas breakfast." (...what?)

"That warm Christmas feeling." (................................what?)

I thought I'd try it, just to see what the fuss is about, and do my best to describe it.

Alright. Here goes.




















It tastes like hazelnuts. And cinnamon. And a chunk of bark off a christmas tree.

(Just kidding. It does taste like hazelnuts and cinnamon though.)

How to Treat a Stomach Flu

I'm livin' the dream, guys.

I'm going to spare you the nitty gritty details of how my digestive system feels right now, but let me just say that stomach pain is the worst because my usual coping strategy--snacks--is useless right now. I have no appetite. Boo.

Thankfully, I didn't have to go to the doctor (driving to and sitting in an office while clenching my stomach sounds like absolute misery) and I had our school nurse help me during lunch. A stomach flu could be a lot of other things, she says, and it's important to know whether you have a viral infection or just ate one too many enchiladas last night.

Do I Have a Stomach Flu?

Here are the symptoms:

• Abdominal cramps
• Stomach pain
• Nausea/dizziness 
• Vomiting/diarrhea

I Have a Stomach Flu. Now What?

1. Rest. 

This is obvious, I know, but also really hard to actually do. Laying in bed when I'm not asleep is really hard. I get restless and start feeling anxious that I'm not using my time well (I should do the dishes. I should respond to emails. etc. etc.) 

In times like this, what helps me is making my bed into a nest. Sort of. Everything I need is within arms reach, and it makes it easier to just roll around and enjoy bed rest. 

Lots of pillows, cozy socks, tea, water, an apple-scented candle, and Friends.

2. Pedialyte

I got a couple of bottles of pedialyte to make sure that I don't get dehydrated, and can I just say that I'm horrified by how sugary this stuff tastes? According to my friend Coby, it tastes like melted otter pops. And I agree. You're not supposed to dilute them, so I chug a cup down every few hours (or every time I uh go to the bathroom) and wash it down with water. 

3. Bland Food

You want to stick to toast, rice, potatoes, and bread. The plainer, the better, so that it doesn't upset your stomach. Small amounts of greek yogurt are okay--I added a drizzle of honey on top of mine and it didn't upset my stomach. Stay away from caffeine, spices, and... anything delicious, basically.

A Few More Tips...

• Clean your toilet when you're starting to get over it. The stomach flu is a virus, so you don't want to spread it to anyone else who uses your bathroom.
• You're contagious for up to two weeks after you show no more symptoms of the stomach flu, so be sure to frequently wash your hands!

Alright, my croissants are all cooked in the oven. Time to go lay in bed again.

VLOG: Camping!

Here are some more photos from Oak Canyon! Oak Creek Canyon! Creek Oak Woods? I have no idea where we went.

Fun Home, by Alison Bechdel

"Not everyone who is supposed to love you, will." Stella Pope Duarte said these words about a week before I read Fun Home, and it echoed on every page of Alison Bechdel's memoir. 

This is, at its core, a story about growing up in a family that doesn't communicate.  Bechdel's estrangement from her father and emerging sexuality could have set the stage for some honest, reflective storytelling.

It's too bad Bechdel doesn't do that.

The entire story is metaphor after metaphor of things her family is like, which makes the story seem like a clip show. I can tell you about ten characters that her father reminders her of, but I can't tell you who her father is. Don't get me wrong, I love descriptive language, but it feels too much like Bechdel is relying on other authors' great characterization to anchor her own story. Not to mention, she's assuming her readers are as familiar with the stories she's depending on as she is.

She acknowledges this herself, on page 67, when she says, "I employ these allusions because my parents are most real to me in fictional terms."

Sure, it's hard to describe people you don't know. But your own feelings--those are real. And I just didn't get enough of it to enjoy this book. 

(Ironically, I think this book fails the Bechdel test.)

Halloween Decor

I wasn't sure if it'd be weird to show you my Halloween decorations since, well, it's November 11th. But then I remembered--

Right.

Honestly, these decorations are probably staying up until December.

I'm not a huge fan of "traditional" Halloween decorations--the fake cobwebs, spiders, etc.--because they feel like clutter when they're indoors. If and when I have a front lawn, I'm going all out (maybe even making a little haunted house for trick or treaters? who knows) but decorations indoors... I like to keep them more subtle.

I've been trying to figure out what to do with the bare side of my cabinets since I moved in:

And I found my answer in comic books. 

I got a huge stash of them two years ago with the intention of framing six of them at a time and hanging them up seasonally (I even bought them based on what would "go well" in each season), but, like my comic book magnets, I didn't follow through with the idea because I got depressed and everything went to shit.

I got six $2 photo frames from IKEA and got to work.

I was too nervous to nail anything into my cabinets because I wasn't sure if it would split the wood, so I decided to use the least intrusive method of hanging the frames--thumbtacks. I used the tape measure to make sure the frames were centered and evenly spaced, and the leveler because, well, I've never been good at leveling things.

I wanted to keep the frames at about the same height as the plants on the other side of the wall, and here's what it looks like when I was done:

Welp, these are going to stay up until I switch them out for winter-y comics. Which comic is your favorite? 

Psst: I did carve a pumpkin this year (It's Potter Puppet Pal Snape. My friend Carmen made the Dumbledore next to it)