"It's hard to dance with the devil on your back, so shake him off."

- Sarah calls me "green bean" because we both love YA literature and there's a character in the sequel to _Stargirl_ who's five years old and instead of saying "human being" she says "human bean." So, green bean because I am one of Sarah's favorite "beans" and green is my favorite color.

- I have another friend, also named Sarah, who sent me a coffee mug in the mail for my birthday yesterday. She is always doing random nice things for people, and I love her for it. She sent me a condolence card when my cat died this past summer, too, complete with a full color photo of him that she printed off of my Facebook page.

- I am currently obsessed with this song (this live on SNL version in particular because Florence Welch just looks so happy).

Life lately

It's been a really dreary fall in Detroit. I don't think I've ever suffered from seasonal depression, but I'm definitely feeling weird and apprehensive about the coming winter months. I've spent the past few months feeling hungry for sunlight; I can't seem to get enough-- not that there's much to get around here these days. It's rained a lot, and now that we've turned the clocks back an hour, it gets dark around 5 p.m.

But I'm still pretty excited about things. Namely that:

• Sarah will be in Michigan this coming Friday, November 18.
• A week later, on Friday, November 25, she and I are driving to Bowling Green, Kentucky (where the guy she is dating lives-- Sarah will be moving there too after she graduates next month). We'll spend a couple of days together there, and the 27th, I'll take a Greyhound to Michigan and she will fly back to Oklahoma.
• I may visit Saginaw the first weekend in December, but this is still dependent upon my friends' schedules. We'll see, but if that works out, it'll be good, because so many people I care about live there, and I miss them.
• On December 10, I'm going to see Tori Amos in Chicago with Lura (which is ridiculous because I've already seen Interpol and gone to Lollapalooza this year, but whatever).

So much random travel. And somehow I keep winding up in the South, of all places. More important is who you're with, though, and I'm so excited to spend time with Sarah. We haven't seen each other since January, when I flew to Oklahoma to visit her. The other day we had this weird "Internet slumber party" where we got on Skype and braided our hair pig-tail style while drinking (bourbon for Sarah, beer for me), if that tells you anything about what our friendship is like. We are ridiculous, but she means a lot to me. Everyone needs friends like that.

In other news, I'm finishing up the first edition of my zine; I'm glad that I actually made one. I was kind of afraid that I'd talk about wanting to make one, but never actually do it. But it's coming together quite nicely, actually.

I spent this weekend working more than usual (I had to babysit on both Friday evening and Saturday afternoon), so decided to treat myself to Han Nolan's newest book. I'm almost done with it; I love YA literature so unreasonably much. The stuff I have to read for my degree program gets depressing sometimes. YA lit is also kind of depressing (the book I'm reading now addresses issues such as teen pregnancy, infidelity, and suicide). But I feel like it's easier to deal with because I've been there already-- it's only been four and a halfish years since I graduated from high school.

Just trying to keep myself grounded, I guess.

Lollapalooza and other Chicago adventures

Aside from the fact that I came home from Chicago to news that my cat had passed away while I was out of town, the weekend was fucking awesome.

Going to Lollapalooza was my friend Toni's idea. She spent last summer campaigning for someone who ended up not getting elected, so decided that this summer, she deserved to have as much fun as possible.

So I spent months being a hermit in order to be able to afford to go with her.

'

And damn, was it worth it.

Toni was excited for Lollapalooza itself, as was I. But I felt oddly luckier than her, because I had another good reason to visit Chicago. My friend Stephanie lives there. I've written about her before-- a fellow feminist and poet, she has long been a great source of sanity for me.

A few months ago, she started a literary collective called the West Side School for the Desperate, and offered to let Toni and me crash there for the weekend. I'd been really curious to see it; from talking to her, I knew that it wasn't a normal apartment. But I didn't really know what to expect.

As it turns out, the WSSD is actually listed as a commercial property. It used to be a Good News Bible Church (lulz), and before that, was a bakery. Now, Stephanie and her roommates use the main area as a performance space. Near the back of said performance space, there's this tiny door leading to a kitchen. There's a bathroom back there too. And they sleep in what I guess used to be closets. The walls to those rooms don't go all the way to the ceiling. It's hard to explain without a visual. But it's really interesting and open.

The night Toni and I arrived, Stephanie and her roommates were hosting a poetry workshop at the WSSD. So we sat in on it. It was a weird experience for me, in both good and bad ways.

One of Stephanie's roommates Julie (who also went to high school with us) has a background in visual art, not poetry. But she still wanted to find a way to contribute to the workshop. So she handed each of us a piece of surrealist art and had us write poems about them.

I hadn't written a poem in a very long time, and doing so felt really good.

Workshopping others' pieces was another story. Toni realized just how much of a nerd I was in high school, because I explained to her that that's all I did in my free time. But I hadn't taken part in a productive workshop session since early 2009, so when Stephanie put me on the spot and asked for my opinion on someone's piece, I stumbled through a response. It was weird, because that's something I used to feel confident about.

After the workshop, we all wound up at a nearby karaoke bar, and after a couple of pitchers of beer, Stephanie and I sang "Fuck and Run" by Liz Phair together. It's good to know that even though I've not been active on the poetry scene lately, Stephanie and I are still close-- even though our interest in poetry is the reason our friendship developed in the first place.

The next day, Toni and I finally headed off to Lollapalooza. But not before a delicious lunch at a sushi place across the street from Grant Park.

I love hanging out with people who love seafood as much as I do.

That day, we saw The Kills, The Mountain Goats, Crystal Castles, and Ratatat. The last one was probably my favorite. The only group that was sorta disappointing was Crystal Castles, if only because they stopped playing abruptly and disappeared forever and no one knows why or where they went. :-(

I think Toni and I were both surprised at how utterly exhausted we were after our first day at Lolla. Having been on our feet all day, we literally limped back to the West Side School for the Desperate-- arriving, appropriately, both looking and feeling pretty desperate. We slept for 600 years that night. It felt awesome.

The next day, Toni caught a train to Oak Park to meet up with her aunt for lunch. This gave Stephanie and me some time to spend alone, which was nice.

A few years ago, Stephanie and I got together on Christmas Day and watched a few episodes of "Curb Your Enthusiasm." One of the episodes we saw was the one about the Larry David Sandwich. In it, Larry has a sandwich named after him. And he's disappointed, because the sandwich is made up of whitefish, cream cheese, and capers. And who the fuck likes those things?

Stephanie and me, that's who. We were like, "Man. People need to stop hating on the Larry David Sandwich. That shit sounds delicious."

We proceeded to raid her parents' fridge for fish. This was especially hilarious because her family had just eaten Christmas dinner, so there were piles and piles of delicious leftovers for us to eat. But did we want any of it? No. We wanted whitefish.

For the record, we didn't find any, and ended up eating leftover ambrosia instead (mmmmm). But since then, we've said that we'd someday eat seafood sandwiches together.

Soon after that, Stephanie discovered a classy sandwich shop in her Chicago neighborhood. She has been nagging me for literally years now to come visit her so that we could eat delicious sandwiches together there.

One in particular is named after Alice Walker. It contains salmon, avocado, cucumber, feta cheese, and wasabi mayo.

So, needless to say, we officially (finally!) declared Saturday, August 6, 2011 "Sandwich Day," and went to this sandwich shop together. And I ate an Alice Walker sandwich and my life was forever changed.

After that, I met Toni downtown for more Lollapalooza madness. We saw the Black Lips, Death From Above 1979, Ellie Goulding, and Beirut. Again, the last one was my favorite, mostly because they played an encore, which is virtually unheard of at Lollapalooza.

Sunday was pretty intense. Stephanie took us to a classy breakfast place for crab benedict. Except they were out of crab benedict. :-( So we ate various other delicious things instead. And then Toni and I headed off to Lollapalooza, day 3.

We got drenched, and our electronic devices (namely my cell phone and her iPod) were taken as casualties. But it was my favorite day of the festival.

We saw Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. in the blazing sun. They did a rock cover of "I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston, which was the most hilarious thing I have ever experienced.

And then the clouds rolled in and the temperature dropped 10 degrees. During that time, I ate a delicious vegetarian wrap thing that completely blew my mind.

All I care about is food. Don't judge me.

We headed off to see the Arctic Monkeys, and that's when it started pouring. It poured for at least half an hour, which was long enough to turn the ground to muddy mush. Also, our clothes were completely soaked through.

I danced in it, because I have no shame. You have not lived until you've experienced an outdoor concert in the pouring rain. Just sayin'.

But that was just the beginning. The skies cleared (there was even a rainbow), and once the Arctic Monkeys finished their set, we wandered over to another stage to see Explosions in the Sky.

After that, the skies darkened again and it poured even harder than it had the first time. The whole park flooded. We watched the Foo Fighters from a distance and then got delicious falafel pitas. (Yeah, yeah, yeah, more food.)

We heard the Cold War Kids playing nearby, but didn't stick around long enough to figure out whether they played "Hang Me Up to Dry." It would have been extremely appropriate.

We found our way back to Stephanie's, where we took turns showering. Stephanie had milk and cookies out for us, which was super cute, and then we went to bed at 11 p.m. because we're old and boring.

And that, my friends, was my Lollapalooza/Chicago adventure. It was both excellent and delicious, even if it ended badly.

I'm not just referring to the death of my cat.

When my mom heard about my waterlogged cell phone, her solution to the problem was to dig through drawers until she found my very first cell phone (circa 2005). She took it to Verizon and got it activated for me.

So until it's time for an upgrade, that's what I'll be using, I guess. Lollapalooza and Mother Nature teamed up to force a reunion between me and my 16-year-old self.

Never thought it would have ended that way, but okay. I still count the weekend as a win.

30 Day Blog Challenge: Day 16

Your views on mainstream music.

If you're looking for a hipster's perspective, move along.

I like what I like. Some of it's embarrassingly mainstream. A lot of it's not.

Here are my most-played artists, according to Last FM:

• Tracy Chapman
• Adele
• Michael Franti & Spearhead
• Tori Amos
• Cat Power
• The Beatles
• Chantal Kreviazuk
• Regina Spektor
  

Sarah and I had a conversation about this a couple of years ago. We both really liked Regina Spektor's album Begin to Hope. But a lot of our friends weren't too fond of it for a number of reasons: it was a lot less raw than her previous releases, for one (it did sound quite different than her earlier work, but I didn't necessarily think of that as a bad thing). And all of a sudden her music was being played on the radio, so tickets to see her in concert went up in price. (I saw her at St. Andrew's Hall in 2006 for $13. A year later, she came to the Fillmore, and tickets cost about $40.)

But the way Sarah and I see it, as long as you're being true to yourself and doing what you really want to do, then it's fine. As someone who's a huge fan of socially conscious lyrics, I think it's really great when stuff like that reaches a bigger audience.

This might seem like an odd connection to make, but my feelings about music are similar to my views on/approach to convincing people that war is stupid. I get really ticked off at people who talk about the monetary cost of war without ever talking about the human cost of it. But I make sure to keep the financial facts in my head when I argue with people who support wars. Because that is a way to appeal to their interests. And if I can convince them that we're spending too much money on war, then maybe I'm one step closer to convincing them that killing people senselessly is EVEN STUPIDER.

So basically, music is meant to be shared. So share it, you greedy, selfish hipsters. Feel the luv.

30 Day Blog Challenge: Day 14

A photo of a cherished memory.

Unfortunately, most of my photos are on Facebook, and I've deactivated my account (more on that later). So you'll have to settle for the unillustrated version.

The photo I'm thinking of was taken in Ann Arbor, MI on Tuesday, August 11, 2009. My favorite musician of all time, Tracy Chapman, performed there that night. And she was amazing.

At the time, I was living in Saginaw (an hour and a half from Ann Arbor) and taking a summer class at SVSU. The class met on Mondays and Wednesdays. And that Wednesday, I was scheduled to take my final exam.

But I was determined to attend this concert, because not only is Tracy Chapman my favorite musician ever, but she also doesn't tour much. And when she does, she usually spends more time in Europe than the US (not that I blame her, but still).

So I convinced my mom to go with me. And that Monday after class, I drove to Grosse Pointe, where I stayed overnight at my parents' house, because GP is significantly closer to Ann Arbor than Saginaw is.

And the next day, my mom and I left for Ann Arbor, where I spent several hours raiding bookstores. Because she knows what happens to English majors in bookstores, my mom went off and did her own thing. And eventually, she got me to leave the store by bribing me with food; we ate a super delicious meal before the concert.

Upon arriving at the theater, a friendly tall person made my good mood even better by offering to switch seats with me when he realized that his head obstructed my view.

Tracy put on a great show. I really appreciated her subtle and smart sense of humor. Before she sang this song she said, "This is about how we need to be saved from those who think they need to save us." (Creative way to list your religious views on Facebook, anyone?)

And then this song made me cry. So hard. It caught me entirely off-guard, because Tracy just popped out of nowhere with an acoustic guitar after she had performed several songs with a full band. And without any kind of preface, she just started singing this. And it was really, really simple and beautifully done. So I cried. And when I say that I cried, I mean it. I put a lot of effort into stifling weird noises and swore I'd never forgive my mother if she made fun of me afterward (because there's no way in hell that she didn't notice). It was really intense and I'll never forget it.

So I was all over the place emotionally. Not surprising, I guess, given that I've been a die hard Tracy Chapman fan all my life.

But remember, I had a final exam the next day.

And since I'd spent the whole day before the concert dicking around in Ann Arbor, I really had to study.

On our way back to Grosse Pointe after the concert, I made my mom stop at a Tim Horton's so I could get some coffee. But not surprisingly, I didn't get much work done that night. Instead, I was too full of adrenaline (and whatever other crazy emotions inevitably go along with seeing your favorite musician live) to work or sleep. So I talked to friends online about how incredible Tracy Chapman's concert had been.

And then I took a power nap, woke up at 6 a.m., and drove back to Saginaw. I was exhausted, but swore I wouldn't allow myself to sleep or have a concert-related meltdown until after my exam.

I was actually relatively successful, thanks to the anxiety that always creeps up before an exam and motivates me to get shit done.

But by the time I'd finished the exam, I looked like I'd been to war and back. On top of all the normal final exam feelings (Holy shit I'm so tired and my brain is fried and I never want to use my brain for anything ever again), I had all these ridiculous feelings to deal with because I had just seen THE BEST CONCERT OF MY ENTIRE LIFE IN A CITY THAT I LOVE and had been forced to return to reality (read: a small university in the middle of a cornfield) well before I'd had any time to process the experience.

I ran into one of my professors in the hallway after the exam. Upon trying to make small talk with me, he realized that I was a severely sleep-deprived pile of emotions. (In case you think I'm exaggerating about how tired I was, he didn't like the idea of letting me drive home.)

But in the end, I drove home anyway, fell asleep, woke up fourteen hours later, and learned that I'd managed to pull off an A- on that exam.

Tracy Chapman, though, gets an A+.

30 Day Blog Challenge: Day 11

Put your iPod on shuffle and list the first 10 songs that pop up.

"Halfway Around the World" by Chantal Kreviazuk

"A Theory" by Tracy Chapman

"He Won't Go" by Adele

"Half of You" by Cat Power

"Just Dance" by Lady GaGa

"Right as Rain" by Adele

"I Want to Sing" by Regina Spektor

"Lovegame" by Lady GaGa

"I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got" by Sinead O'Connor

"If Not Now..." by Tracy Chapman

--

Maybe this isn't the best representation of all the music that's in my library. But it's a pretty accurate representation of what I've been listening to recently. I always listen to Tracy Chapman alotalotalot. And lately, I've been listening to tons of Adele. And I'm convinced that everyone listens to Lady GaGa all the damned time, whether or not they admit it. :)

Summer plans and other random things

Hi, Internet.

I haven't blogged too much this month. And if I may be perfectly honest, t's not because I've been busy with end-of-semester stuff. It's because I've been really down about a lot of things, and everything I wrote sounded whiny. So I just didn't post much.

The political climate in this country is really, really upsetting me. Earlier this month, governor of Michigan Rick Snyder declared the city of Benton Harbor to be in a state of crisis and appointed an "Emergency Financial Manager," who stripped all elected officials in BH of their duties.

Giant democracy fail, I know.

Furthermore, the Detroit Public School System sent layoff notices to every single one of its teachers. We can blame Rick Snyder's budget plan for that, too.

My mom is Canadian. She was born in Sudbury, Ontario, and moved to Detroit when she married my dad (24 years ago yesterday). So I have a lot of relatives in Canada. And one of them--my mom's older sister Kerrie, who lives in the Yukon--offered to let me come live with her for the summer.

I thought it was a pretty neat idea. And not surprisingly, I've been fantasizing about getting out of the US for a while. So Kerrie talked to a friend of hers about getting me a job. I didn't tell too many people about it, because I wasn't sure whether it was going to work out.

And in the end, it didn't work out. I'm oddly not too bummed about that though, because a fear of mine is that a summer in the Yukon would make me lonelier than I already am here in Grosse Pointe.

So, my summer looks like this:

• classes at Wayne State
  
• babysitting/searching for another job
• the release of Bonnie Jo Campbell's novel _Once Upon a River_ at Kalamazoo's Bell's Brewery in July
• my friend Rose having a baby
• Lollapalooza in Chicago with my friend Toni

That last one is sort of a big deal. The day tickets went on sale, Toni wrote on my FB Wall, telling me that I should come with her. As much as I liked the idea, I did not at first intend to say yes. Shit's expensive. Gotta plan a purchase like that in advance.

But then she followed up with a lengthy FB message, detailing how much it would cost. I appreciated the gesture and really like Toni. Besides, I wanted to go.

So I told autonomous adulthood to suck it, asked my mom to loan me some money, and bought a 3-day pass to Lollapalooza.

I just paid it off a couple of days ago, and will spend the next few months being a huge tightwad in order to be able to afford to spend three days in Chicago. But it will be a fabulous end to the summer. :)

Also: Summer would not be summer without summer reading. Recommendations? Here's a(n unrealistically ambitious) list of books that I'm thinking of reading (in no particular order):

• _Sexing the Cherry_ by Jeanette Winterson
• _The Golden Notebook_ by Doris Lessing
• _Midnight's Children_ by Salman Rushdie
  
• _Breeding a Nation: Reproductive Slavery, the Thirteenth Amendment, and the Pursuit of Freedom_ by Pamela D. Bridgewater
• _Reading Like a Writer: A Guide for People Who Love Books and For Those who Want to Write Them_ by Francine Prose
  
• _The Way We Lived_ by Audrey Jacobs
• _When We Were Saints_ by Han Nolan
  

And speaking of books (especially that last one): My inner 13-year-old is jumping up and down, turning blue, and squealing over and over, "AMELIA, TELL THEM YOUR NEWS!" So: I learned today that HAN NOLAN WILL BE RELEASING A NEW BOOK IN THE FALL. I love her books so much: reading her work has made me a better person. I've blogged before about how much I love her.

Anyway. This post has been all over the place. I apologize. They'll soon go back to being more focused. I've decided to participate in a 30-day blog challenge. Let's see how closely I can stick to it.

I'll leave you with a really great NYT article I read last night, which I think sums up everything that matters to me. Virginia Woolf once wrote about what it would have been like if Shakespeare had had a sister. Well, Benjamin Franklin did have a sister. Her name was Jane Mecom. And she didn't do so well.

And this is relevant today because, as the article states:

"Tea Partiers dressed as Benjamin Franklin call for an end to social services for the poor; and the 'Path to Prosperity' urges a return to 'America’s founding ideals of liberty, limited government and equality under the rule of law.' But the story of Jane Mecom is a reminder that, especially for women, escaping poverty has always depended on the opportunity for an education and the ability to control the size of their families."

On vulnerability

I've been listening to Adele's new album, 21.

Her voice is the most gorgeous thing I have ever heard.

I love Adele. She's young, ambitious, and (I'll say it again) has an incredible voice. Also, she recently told Rolling Stone, "I don't make music for eyes. I make music for ears."

So much win in those words.

Until recently though, I took issue with most of her lyrics. It bothered me that someone as strong and beautiful as Adele was on her knees in so many songs, most of which, she has told the public, were inspired by a bad breakup.

But then I started thinking about my own writing habits. And I came across a note I made to myself in January of 2009:

I don't know why I'm so opposed to sounding vulnerable in a poem when I know that I'm the narrator. Like, if I take on the voice of someone else, I have no problem with sounding vulnerable. But when I know it's me narrating, I can't. I have to be a super strong feminist allthefreakingtime. So. My new goal is to write a poem in which I, as narrator, expose my vulnerability.

I never wrote it.

Last night I was out at a bar with a friend from high school. And I ran into someone I met at SVSU, of all places. This particular person was once a very close friend of mine, but we aren't really in touch anymore for a lot of complicated reasons. There is a lot of pain connected to my friendship with her. So it hurt to see her again, and brought to the surface a lot of emotions I didn't exactly want to deal with.

So I look at Adele, who confronts her pain, and I have to admire that. It takes strength to admit that you've been betrayed, because in doing so, you admit that you trusted someone you perhaps should not have.

That's something I struggle with because if you admit all of that to yourself, you then have to acknowledge the fact that some people do some pretty hurtful shit. And it's hard to accept that if your entire philosophy is built around loving everyone.

I own a copy of Ani DiFranco's album Canon. And between two uncharacteristically sad songs, she says:

And so now like, it's so funny like, all the righteous babes--well, not all of 'em, just a few who have got their panties on a little too tight--they're all up in a twitch because they're like, "Oh, well, you fucking wench, just writing about like, love n' shit. What happened to your politics? What are you just gonna sell out? Is this a conscious move away from overly political songwriting?" And I'm like, "No man. It's just. I got kind of... distracted."

Distraction then, is good. And necessary. You can't be strong if you merely bury your weaknesses/vulnerabilities. Because then they will inevitably turn up out of the blue and join you for a drink right before final exams.

Much as I've been trying to deny it all this time, the truth is that (as Adele puts it), "Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead."

Guess I'm off to write some poems about the times when "it hurt instead."

How I became a feminist

A week or so ago, I was poking around on Twitter and came across a link to this post titled "How I Became a Feminist." And I realized that while I've blogged quite a bit about feminism, I haven't actually written about how I got here in the first place.

I come from a very traditional family. My dad's the breadwinner, and my mom's always done the stay-at-home thing. I like to think that my parents might not have assumed traditional gender roles had they been given the chance to figure out what else was out there, though. They were both raised in very traditional settings, and married young.

Kids worry about all kinds of weird things. And because my parents were the people with whom I spent the majority of my time, I tried to picture myself in their shoes and worried incessantly about what my future would be like. Neither of my parents were born in the United States; they're not native speakers of English. I remember thinking that in order to ever be considered a "real adult," I, like my parents, would have to learn a whole new language/culture. And it scared the shit out of me.

But the funny thing is that in becoming a feminist, I've done exactly that.

Although feminism was not a part of my upbringing, it entered my consciousness when I was still very young--long before I had a word for it. I distinctly remember being in the first grade and going to a friend's house after school to play for a few hours. I was surprised to find a babysitter there instead of my friend's mom. I'd never had a babysitter before, and asked my friend where her mom had gone.

"She's at work," my friend replied (with a tone suggesting I was an idiot for not having known that instinctively).

She didn't know it, but she had, in only three words, eliminated the anxiety I'd felt about my future. I didn't have to grow up to be a stay-at-home mom. Maybe that meant I didn't have to be a mother at all. Maybe I didn't even have to get married. To this day, I think this is the most liberating realization I've ever made: Holy crap, people have all kinds of ways of going about things; there are choices.

From that point forward, I looked for affirmations of what I'd discovered at my friend's house: that as a female, I was equal to males and wasn't limited to gender-specific roles in society. This was hard to do, being that I was an elementary school student with a limited vocabulary. (Feminism? What's that?) But I got lucky anyway. I grew up in the 1990s--a time when women dominated the music scene. My mom was a big Tracy Chapman fan. And I don't even think she paid all that much attention to the socially conscious lyrics, but I couldn't help but take notice. I've always had a fascination with language, and can't deny that those lyrics shaped the perspective from which I viewed the world.

I finally came to identify as a feminist as a high school senior. I have my friend Stephanie to thank for that. She had transferred from Interlochen Arts Academy, where she'd focused on her poetry. That year, I was the editor-in-chief of Looking Glass, the art/literary journal at school, and Stephanie joined my editorial staff. We were also in the same AP literature and creative writing classes.

She and I entered the same poetry contests and submitted our work to the same journals. We were both recognized with Detroit Free Press Writing Awards and placed in the Albion College Michigan High School Poetry Contest. We were on the school poetry slam team, and got to compete at the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island.

Because of that, Stephanie and I got to spend a lot of time traveling around the state together, and I took advantage of every opportunity to pick her brain. I was passionate about writing, but she brought something to hers that was missing from mine: focus in terms of subject matter. She viewed the world through a feminist lens, and was able to articulate everything I'd believed in all my life, but had never had the words for.

Armed with what Stephanie had taught me, I enrolled at SVSU. Not having her around actually gave me the chance to further develop my own views. And the classes I took gave me a safe environment in which to do that.

I took a zillion English classes at SVSU, but none of them had anything about gender or feminism in their titles. Still, many of my professors did an excellent job of integrating feminism into their classes--such an excellent job, in fact, that I craved more and was disappointed when I had trouble finding it. Most of what I learned about feminism during my years at SVSU came from the English classes I took, rather than classes such as The Psychology of Sex, Sexuality, and Gender.

And so I learned firsthand what makes women's studies an interdisciplinary topic. I find it impossible to separate feminism from any of my other interests. It's a mindset, a lifestyle. I don't think I ever "became a feminist," exactly. I just learned that there was a word for my version of common sense. I try my best every day to use that word well and often.

What's funny is that even though I've openly identified as a feminist for quite a few years now, I'm still surprised whenever I hear anyone refer to my "reputation" as such. Maybe that's because of the negative connotation. Again, I don't separate feminism from anything else I believe in or do. It's not like I'm this average, ordinary woman with a "secret life" as a feminist behind the scenes. Please.

I'm still learning, and will be as long as I live. That's what's so incredible about it. I'm in awe of just how much I don't know. Maybe that means I'm still becoming a feminist (which would explain why I can't pinpoint the moment when I "became" one).

Livin' the dream: Amelia meets Michael Franti

I'm not kidding when I say that I have a list of people I'd like to high five before I die. Until today, Michael Franti was on that list. But I checked his name off today. :-)

I went with my mom to Borders in Ann Arbor to see him. Some things are just worth skipping class for. And because I didn't have to work today, I saw this as one hell of a great opportunity to have some fun.

I first clued in to Michael Franti around the time he stopped wearing shoes (circa 2000). I didn't really understand the political significance of it then. I just thought it was cool, and told my mom that I was going to stop wearing shoes. Her response? "Amelia, you're eleven. And you live in Michigan. It snows here. No."

And that was that. I zoned out until about 2008, when All Rebel Rockers was released. And I've been a fan ever since.

I could write out every detail of the 40 or so minutes of awesomeness, but thanks to Borders, I can just show you what you missed:

Watch live streaming video from borders at livestream.com

My favorite parts:

The interview segment between the first and second songs they played--particularly the part about oranges. It's the little things in life, man.

Watching the kids dance around to "Say Hey (I Love You)." I'm a big fan of the girl who rocked that spontaneous solo. She's the coolest.

The best part for me was how it ended. I loved the last song that they played; I wish it had been included on the latest album. I found it so incredibly fitting; I came out to my parents just last month, and attended this show with my mom. And that song was about how it's okay to love whoever you choose--as long as you're loving, not hating, it doesn't matter.

The whole day was great. Afterward, I bought a copy of The Sound of Sunshine and got it signed. And Michael Franti gave me a hug. :-) There's photographic evidence of this; I'll put it up soon.

I'm in love with the world today. I hope you are, too.

Things I'm incredibly excited about

1) This morning I booked a flight to Oklahoma to visit my friend Sarah, who's living there while she finishes her MFA at Oklahoma State University. I'm really excited about it; I haven't seen Sarah since December of 2008. She is one of my favorite people; we met in 2005 as students in Mary Ann Samyn's poetry workshop at the Controlled Burn Seminar for Young Writers. Since then, we've done a good job of keeping in touch, even though we've never lived in the same city (and now don't even live in the same state). When I was still in high school and living in Grosse Pointe, she was in Saginaw. The year I moved to Saginaw to start college, she moved to Marquette to get an MA from NMU. And now I'm back in Grosse Pointe, and she's in Stillwater, OK. But at the end of January, I will be in Stillwater, too. :-)

2) In an earlier post, I mentioned that Michael Franti is on the list of people I'd like to high five before I die. I spent an entire week trying to win tickets to a pre-concert meet and greet through a local radio station, but was unsuccessful. Well, my hope has been rekindled! Turns out Michael Franti will be hanging out at Borders in Ann Arbor on Monday, 11/15, playing a few songs and signing albums. (And hopefully giving me a high five!) Oh, man. Power to the peaceful!

I love my life because I love the people in it. That's really all it comes down to.

I felt kind of deflated all day.

I guess I was just cranky because this week is kicking my ass. And when school tries to destroy me, it's quite natural of me to think that I ought to let it. Who the hell am I? When am I ever going to graduate? I don't really know what I want to do with my life, and I need to get my shit together because I've been in college for quite a while, blah, blah, blah.

But all day long, I was reminded that the people in my life ROCK. And I feel the need to mention a few of them specifically:

A local radio station, 93.9, has been giving away tickets to see Michael Franti and Spearhead in concert and meet the band before the show. Michael Franti just happens to be on the list of people I'd like to high five before I die, so I spent the day trying to win tickets. I found out this evening that quite a few people called the station for me: My mom, Emily, Ben, Amberleigh, AND Amberleigh's mom (who I've never even met). The cool thing? Ben and Amberleigh don't even live in the listening area; Ben's in Saginaw and Amberleigh's in Lake City. But they streamed it online, waited for the DJ to tell them to call in, and gave it a shot. (I didn't win the tickets, but that's beside the point.)

When I got home from class this evening, I saw that I had received a Halloween card in the mail from my good friend Sarah. We attended the Controlled Burn Seminar together, and although we've never lived in the same city, have always done a great job at keeping in touch. In the card, she mentioned that she plans to move to Kentucky soon, and tried to convince me to join her. She knows I'd never go for something like that, so she wrote, "Oh, I know what you're thinking. But Kentucky needs people like us. We could go there and raise hell; there isn't a single Planned Parenthood within an hour of Bowling Green."

On Facebook, I found a status that one of my friends had posted: "Can anyone give me a good reason to go to college?"

Someone who used to teach English at SVSU left a comment: "Because you will meet some very cool people there. And if you take the right classes, you will learn something and find your passion."

I "liked" her comment and she added, "The funny thing was that I was going to say 'people like Amelia Glebocki.'"

Well, shucks.

Just after I read that, a former roommate of mine (with whom I'm not particularly close), sent me a Facebook message to let me know that she thinks of me every Tuesday night while she's in class, because the class she's taking is called "Teaching the Art of Writing." And writing has always been my thing.

That was nice to hear. I needed that to remind me that I'm not as aimless as I feel. I love deeply--so deeply, in fact, that people who don't even consider themselves close friends of mine can't help but think of me whenever they find themselves in certain situations. Maybe that means I'm obnoxiously vocal about what I think/feel. Or maybe in a more positive light, it just means I'm passionate, intense. And with how much I've questioned myself in the past year or so, it's nice to know I still have that in me, and that I'm surrounded by people who have that in them too.

I freaking love you people. Sorry if I don't tell you that enough.