an emotional pinata

I was born with this deep, burning passion for life. I wake up every morning hoping that each day will be an amazing adventure. At some point the world has both bated and twisted this pure, joyful passion into pain and anxiety. I want EVERYDAY to be the best day. I want desperately to CELEBRATE. I was given many second chances on this life. WHY, WHY, WHY would I want to spend a day at less than my best? Why would I not want to greet each person I see with a smile, hello, or a friendly joke? Why would I, instead, look over and barely acknowledge that they are even present. There are days when I feel like I might as well be spider or a bird. Some other species hardly evoking the response of another human.

I do not expect that everyone should be an emotional pinata like me, but kindness? Friendliness? Can't these too exist in any subset of ANY personality? Why can't I wear pink? Why can't I paint my nails with little hearts and eat candy? Why can't I bring cupcakes to class in graduate school? Why can't I like to Dance? WHY MUST WE GROW OUT OF CELEBRATING? Worse than this awful feeling that I must physically restrain myself from celebrating “stupid” holidays, is the feeling that when I do celebrate, I am judged. I'm so frivolous, childish, immature, silly. I'm wasting time. I should be putting all my energy into school.

For a year now I have painfully and violently resisted the urge to celebrate, except in appropriate places, of course. I wanted so, so badly to dress up for halloween at school, paint my face for dia de los muertos, bring cupcakes to my morning class for Valentine's day and my THIRTIETH BIRTHDAY! These are big deals. Maybe they are silly. Maybe they have religious undertones, maybe they are too capitalist, or maybe they are too commercial. But I don't care! A day to dress up in costume? To celebrate the harvest (even though I a morally opposed to much of the agricultural practices of today, and colonization)? To celebrate the memories of lost loved ones? And, today, a day to celebrate LOVE??? WHAT IS BETTER THAN LOVE? What could be better? So what if the candy companies have used it to extort money from us? You can still celebrate without giving into the man.

Bottom line, this world has twisted this joy. It has told me that my smiles and goofiness, my makeup, my costumes, my silly traditions, and my urge to celebrate should be abandoned. I should have grown out of them and grown up. I should only take subdued pleasure in sporting events, yoga, and fine wines. Not only that, but that I should feel self-conscious, ashamed, and embarrassed because I have not “grown up”. Well F* that. I hope, with all my heart, that there are many people out there today celebrating unabashedly. I hope that children can learn not to be ashamed to be who they are, silly as they may be. And that people learn not to judge and hate and hurt one another with unkindness.

a moment to breathe

So I have been absent, not that it truly matters. But the world constantly crumbles and I think... I'll wait till my head is more together. But really, it wont ever be. I am trying to forget the tumultuous year of financial hardship, adult bullying, academically inspired feelings of inadequacy and of course the slow recovery of the sense of self in the light of many losses of deeply beloved people, places and, indeed, ideas.

But now, I can put those things mostly aside and prepare for new traumas. The summer had few speed bumps. In fact, it may have been the best, calm summer in a long time. I got a great internship that was paid. I got to live in the Avenues in Salt Lake City, which was surprisingly beautiful, diverse and entertaining. My work environment was fantastic, my colleagues were respectful and nice, and I got to fulfill my dreams while getting good pay. My visits home were divine.
Upon returning to Logan I found that my course load was high but manageable, my advisor was enthusiastic about my thesis and downright friendly, not only this, my cohort seems happy, friendly and social.

All the dust seems to be settling. While I will always be waiting for the other shoe to drop (I suspect it will drop tomorrow when my car goes to the dealer to get checked since it wont go uphill has bad tires and the engine light is on) I am happy that tonight I am taking a deep breath and savoring the absence of the total chaos that has been my life for the last couple of years.

HAPPY 2011!

I am hoping that this entry will be the first of many positive entries for the year. While Christmas time was a disastrous time for my family, including the death of our cousin, and beloved family priest, I feel that the next 12 months will be better.

While I am happy to move on to happy things, I believe a moment of reflection is warranted on this blog for Fr. Richard (Dick) Coz.

Father Dick, as my family called him, officiated at my parents wedding, and at countless family occasions (baptisms, anniversaries, communions, etc.) He was the first cousin of my Grandfather, who passed away in June. They were great friends their whole lives and both served in WW2 and were extremely devoted to the Catholic church. (obviously!) Fr Dick entered the priesthood after serving in the navy and was faithful, dutiful, and true until his death on New Years Eve. He was a wonderful man. He rarely discussed God or politics at the dinnertable. He always told us stories about our grandparents, ancestors, and the world as it was. He kept the records, the stories, the geneaolgies. When I was a senior in High School, he came to teach at my school. I got to see him everyday and chat with him in the halls. He always kept busy, he always laughed, and he always had time to say hi.
At his funeral, on the feast of the epiphany, I was the only family member who was allowed to participate in the service. We drove out to the lovely Mission Church in Santa Clara after gathering at Cousin Bobbie's house for soup. The mission was beautiful and packed full. People kept asking me, was I nervous? After speaking at 2 other funerals in the last 12 months I'm not sure I had any nerves left anyway. I did not feel nervous, mainly because I felt I owed it to Fr Dick. I felt he deserved to have a strong reader pray loudly at his funeral, and this time, it was not about grief or loss, but honor. I wanted to honor the man that had served his community and family so selflessly. So I was not nervous, I read without faltering, and everyone was impressed. which I actually found rather ridiculous.

But I feel, that through the experiences of last year, I have gained alot. I feel like I truly became an adult. I really understand loss better than anything else I experience, but I have gained, too, confidence. I feel like I have walked through my own personal hell and if I can face the deaths of my favorite people, and lose the people who tether me to my identity, that I have a strength that no one can take from me.

Bad Things in 2010, Good Things too!

I think it is important to acknowledge the badness of 2010 fully, because I will appreciate each good thing next year so much more! I will look back at this list and realize how much worse it could be (I hope). I also acknowledge the Good parts, which were so good!

This horrid year:

- I had nearly 7 months of continuous tonsil pain and exhausted the medicines I could take, got eaten alive by gnats and got an abscess in my throat

- a caretaker who was supposed to be kindly driving my grandpa around stole his credit cards and checks (and used them)

- My Great Grandmother (and Best Friend) had a heart attack, had her lung punctured by an incompetent Dr, was denied food by mean nurses/Dr's, and then died

- two days before my Great Grandma died, my mom's dear family friend Susan was found dead in her home. She was only in her early 60s and it was a great shock, she'd been a part of our extended family for as long as I can remember!

- my only Grandfather died a month later, suddenly after a bout of pneumonia, and the jerk nurses handled it terribly (Sutter lacks bedside manner completely!)

- My mom got laid off and has not had work for almost a year

- My brother got laid off because his stupid boss was a jerk, and now he has to work two jobs non-stop

- at grad school I found that I am the oldest, fattest, and slowest... and that I'm once again the target of bullying and exclusion from cliques that I thought I'd left behind me in the 8th Grade!

- My parents house got broken into and the thieves stole her car, her jewelry from her wedding, her inventory for her new beading business, our Christmas presents AND they kicked our old crippled dog!

- my father got into a car crash on his way to pick me up from the airport

I know there are many other crappy things that happened this year too, but I can't remember or list them all... which is probably a good thing.

Good things that happened this year are:

- I had a GREAT job with a company that I love working for: Good bosses who gave me time off when I needed it, paid me well, treated me well, and I even had BENEFITS for the first time!

- I got to spend my birthday in Las Vegas with two of my besties, and we partied till 4 am! which I'm not sure we can ever do again... we are getting old~

- I got in to Grad school, with Stephie Sue there to help me celebrate!

- I got to see Monument Valley in the snow and fog, and in the summer with a double rainbow!

- I got to be with my Great Grandma her last week, and got to tell her I love her before she died

- I had many great trips home and elsewhere, and spent lots of time with my family, parties, dancing, etc.

- I found a cute little apartment to live in

- I made a couple of really great friends in Grad school and survived my first semester

- I GOT MY TONSILS OUT

There are lots of things to be thankful for, and I can't wait till all the exciting stuff next year that I just KNOW will be good!

FINAL and PAPERS.... ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite Holidays (certainly my favorite of THE holidays).

While this has been a tough year for me and mine considering all that has happened, I have much to be thankful for. I am thankful mostly for the true friendship and love that has been shown to me this year.

When times are tough generosity means more than ever. Many friends have shared a couch, laundry machines, meals, and most importantly an ear.

I was fortunate enough to spend the holiday weekend with some of my family and relax for a few days, though the holidays are ramping up and will be the toughest one yet, as cheesy as it sounds, we have each other.

The most important thing I learned from Great Grandma was to keep a sense of humor, and as I head into this rocky papersthenfinalsthenpackforthemovethenchristmas, I remember that this time will provide lots of opportunities to laugh.

Bison Butchering

For my "lithic analysis" class, I was required to butcher a bison. I was hesitant from the start. I grew up in a 'hunting' household where Dad would bring home various dead things and mom, brother, and I would end up plucking and cooking said dead things. I guess, for me, it lost its luster when I was 5.

As my classmates cheered and boasted of their enthusiasm to get bloody I sat resigned, thinking of the poor beast that would be slaughtered just so we could "prove ourselves" as "real" archaeologists by doing something that would never need to be done in the field of archaeology. The luster diminishes even more at this point.

I then got to make my own tools (the coolest part, I think). I had 15 minutes to create a tool out of a hunk of obsidian. Having never flintknapped before I think I did a pretty good job.

The day of the butchering: we drive up an the bison's head is laying a few meters from the body, eyes all cloudy. There is blood all over the grass. I take one look at the body and decide, no thank you. I've been tortured enough in grad school already. Thankyouverymuch. As if an entire childhood of hunting shows and waking up to elk calls instead of Saturday morning cartoons wasn't enough, I'm now being asked to dismember an animal whom I may get to eat at some undisclosed date.

Not only this, but the attitudes around me are appalling. I'm glad that some people were enthusiastic. Less for me to have to do. But not having enthusiasm for something you are being required to be present for that you would never have chosen to have done in the first place is perfectly rational. I didn't want to do it. It's gross. It smelled bad. and I didn't chose this.

The appalling attitudes of which I speak are this: rude comments. "You are an archaeologist, you should be excited about this". No actually, I am excited about archaeology. I am not a Great plains or paleoindian archaeologist either. I do not like hunting, or butchering.

Don't get me wrong though, I love hunters, and I wholeheartedly believe in hunter's rights and the culture that goes along with killing and processing their own food. There is incredible value in knowing where your food comes from. And more power to the person who can be involved. I admire those folks. But they are not me. and I am no butcher or hunter. If I was told I could eat nothing that I did not kill or collect I reckon I would be eating lots of grains and small game like rabbits or maybe something as large as a turkey. (I've done birds before)

But really, I practically throw up when putting ground beef in my pan when it comes from the store. I don't like the smell of raw meat, I don't like the look of raw meat. My mother the RN scared the crap out of me about germs in food. Why the hell, does being an archaeologist mean that I MUST be excited about this?

It reminds me of grade school, when all the mean and competitive girls said that I HAD to love sports. No I don't. I hate them.

Then after having to peel the cold, clumpy fat out of the bison meat with my pretty handy hunk of obsidian, The final de-lustering blow came. "Where are you from anyway?" "California" "Oh no WONDER you can't butcher". Expletives deleted. I threw down my tools and spent the rest of the day by the fire.

I'm so sick and tired of being persecuted in Utah for my Californian heritage. I REFUSE to apologize for things that I am neither ashamed of, nor at fault for. Yes, I know that I am blonde, but I AM Native Californian, no matter how little a percentage (and by the way my white relatives are Californian too). My family comes from there and let me tell you, my people have been butchering things in CA for many generations. I am just the squeamish one... and frankly, I'm ok with that.

I think it is preposterous that I am expected to be ashamed of who I am and where I come from. Utter bullshit.