An Open Letter To My Family About My Current Boyfriend, Netflix

Dear Mom and Dad,

I’ve met someone.

Yes, I know, he’s a rather – unconventional – boyfriend, but he’s nice and he’s always there for me. In fact, I like him so much I spend almost every evening with him! In a totally family-friendly way that I’m not embarrassed to tell you about. Don’t raise your eyebrows at me, mom. Get your mind out of the gutter.

Continue reading “An Open Letter To My Family About My Current Boyfriend, Netflix”

Learning To Be A Good Person

As a twenty-something trying to navigate her way through the mud of work, career, and relationships, I find myself observing the human species on a larger whole more often than entirely desired. Why do I say that I would desire to observe less about human beings? Because it’s often a depressing topic, and far too complicated to provide any useful information.

This isn’t to say that there isn’t any relevant or enlightening information to be gained, it simply means that the information isn’t useful. Why, if it’s relevant and enlightening? Because people are stubborn, and harbor enough self-conceit to think themselves above the habitual nature of animals.

It’s one of the more frustrating things about studying faucets of anthropology in college; you learn all these things about the nature of the way that people think and interact–and you even see it acted out before you in strangers, friends, and family–and yet, the second you try to point out this almost instinctual habit of reaction and interaction and explain it, said person(s) become defensive or irritable. It’s because no one likes to be told they’re wrong, and certainly more so do people hate their opinions being discounted for reasons beyond their decision-making conscious.

Even I’m guilty of it. Why, I practically spelled out in my last post how much I hate being told I’m wrong, because I obviously think very highly of my own opinions. Why else would I put them out there for the world to see?  And it’s certainly not that I feel I am the end-all-be-all of opinions and what is wrong and what is right, but rather my goal is to use this platform to explain in depth POVs that I’ve reasoned as logical, and which I don’t feel get heard enough. (Granted, this may only be because my Facebook newsfeed is largely made up of residents of Kansas, which means a large portion of my newsfeed is devoted to conservative, Christian, and Republican opinions/values.)

So, when faced with wading through all this muck on top of the already thick mud of adulthood I sludge through every day, I’ve come up with what I think is a very good suggestion on how to be a good person:

1) Don’t be a dick.

That’s it! It’s that simple. Stop being a jerk, and life will get better for you and the people around you!

But Tasha, what does this entail? How do I know whether or not I’m being an overwhelming jerk?

Great question!

The tell-tale signs of being someone that no one likes are as follows:

Making bigoted or ignorant comments or actions against someone else because you don’t understand their lifestyle or choices.
A great, topical example of this is Caitlyn Jenner. By this point, I know I’m being repetitive when I point out that the crass, judgmental comments about Caitlyn and her bravery–though few in comparison to the welcoming and positive response she has received–are completely uncalled for. Even those with religious views against a transgender lifestyle who actually have hearts are disgusted by those posts. (I’m looking at you, Drake Bell.)

Not saying what you mean.

This is why all politicians are universally hated by all. Yes, I know that everyone needs to choose their battles. I agree that if everyone lit a fire under everyone else’s asses for every little thing, we’d all be scorched bottomless. (Actually, an ass-less world might not be a bad thing…though the terrible constipation the world would suffer might not be worth it.) But the truth of the matter is, people don’t like to be duped. They don’t like to be pushed around, they don’t want to be lied to. Things become far more complicated and frustrating when you cause more work, which is what always invariable happens when you don’t just come out and say whatever the heck it is you mean to say the first time. Don’t make us drag it out of you. This is why being extremely passive is the most irritating thing in the world. Be a nice person and find a way to say things nicely, and people will forgive you, even if you tell them that their mother is a fat witch.

Dumping your emotional baggage on others.

Yes, I know life is hard and sometimes you need help carrying the load. That’s fine. But if you find yourself feeding like a vampire off of the emotional response you can drum up in others, then that’s not okay. Creating emotional chaos does not lead to a good home, or a good person. Everyone gets emotional, everyone needs support, but once you find that support and fix the problem, drop it and move on. Do not dwell on the issue and continue to bring it up to your friends, roommates, and family like a festering wound that won’t heal. Festering wounds are disgusting and full of puss. Don’t be full of puss.
But Tasha! I do all of these things! I’m a huge, horrible asshole! Is there no hope for me?
Don’t fear! Here’s what you need to do to stop being a terrible person:

Love.

Now listen up, because it’s important that you make a distinction here: we’re not talking about lust–that love-like feeling that makes you a cuddle-monster–we’re not even talking about loyalty–that love-like feeling you get around your closest friends and makes you want to spend your whole paycheck on greeting cards for them–we’re talking about full-on, self-sacrificing love. The kind that is hard–maybe even sometimes painful–that means putting every being, including those annoying people you think you hate, before yourself without expecting a damn thing in return. Sound impossible? Well, you might be right. I know I’m not perfect enough to get that kind of love right all the time. In fact, I can’t even get it right 95% of the time. But I’m working on it. And if you want to be a good person, you should too. This kind of love is generous, understanding, and forgiving. This kind of love doesn’t post stupid judgmental comments on Facebook or Twitter. This kind of love doesn’t make a person feel like they are a bad person for living differently than you. This kind of love accepts all and lives by example.
So live by example. Learn to be a good person. Stop being a dick.
-tlc

Reasons Why I Will Never Grow Up

I’m currently 23 years old. At this point in my life, I’ve permanently (well, fingers crossed) moved out of my parents’ home, graduated from college, and am living off of the sporadic income that I’m making for myself by attempting to find grown-up work. Life is both miserable and exciting on rotation. But, try as I might to pretend that I am a full-grown adult with the maturity of someone who is independent and living on her own away from her family, everyday I am reminded why I am still, and will always be, that five year-old little girl:

1) I am still an obsessive fan of Disney. To this day, I can sing more Disney songs by heart than recognize music on the radio.

2) Even though I live a thousand miles away from them, I still talk to my parents everyday. Sometimes multiple times a day. I know a lot of people talk to their parents regularly, but somedays I call my mother and think, wow, I’m 23 years old and I talk to my mom more than I’ve ever talked to a single guy I’ve dated. This may be a problem, I’m not sure. Therapists please feel free to weigh-in in the comments.*

*I welcome all professional advice, but just know that I will not pay you.

3) Applesauce is still the greatest invention of mankind.

4) I really like sparkly things.

5) Bawling your eyes out when life is even just a little bit hard is the adult version of throwing a tantrum.

6) I still like to be the center of attention.

7) I am ALWAYS right. No, I don’t care what you say, I just am. Because it’s the rules.

8) I ALWAYS win. ALWAYS. No, you don’t get to win because I said so, and it’s the rules.

9) I need a bedtime. If I’m too tired, the world starts to fall apart. It’s not pretty. You might be thinking, “I’ve seen you groggy, it’s not so bad.” But you haven’t seen me sleep deprived. Oh-oh-oh, sir, you have not seen me sleep deprived.

10) I still think that everything I do is more work than anything else anyone anywhere could be doing. My life is hard, what can I say? Feel bad for me.

This list could go on and on, but I think you get my point. I used to think that eventually I would grow out of these things, and start being a mature, independent adult. I used to assume this would come when I finally settled into a long-term, consistent big-kid job with health and benefits. Slowly, however, I am realizing that job or not, this is who I am, and I am never growing up. I’m not sure about this, but I think Peter Pan would think I was pretty cool.

New Year Post: First Post of 2015!

Written while watching Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve:

I’m starting this year out a bit differently. As I sit here watching One Direction serenade a crowd of grown men, Jenna McCarthy list celebrity divorces of 2014, and read my Facebook friends’ sentimental 2014 reflections while my parents celebrate with a bottle of champagne in my uncle’s modular in small town South Dakota, I have a feeling 2015 is going to be my coolest year yet. Here are some things I’m thinking about this #NYE:

 

Resolution #1: Shorter posts

Let’s face it–how many times have I set a weekly post date for this site, stuck to it all of two or three weeks, dropped off the face of the Earth, and then spent half of my next post apologizing for such a long absence? That’s so 2014.  So, to keep up with the trends, I’m going to keep things simple, short, and sweet.

 

Resolution #2: NO APOLOGIES

Writing is about being honest, and comedy is about being honest, so comedic writing must be about being….random! But in all seriousness, there have been a lot of things on my mind I’d like to write about, but have held back in fear of making waves amongst friends and readers and those I love. But the best lessons, the wisest observations–the things that need to be said–those come from places of vulnerability. Discretion is key, but honesty is power. So, sorry in advance.

 

Resolution #3: I still kind of want to meet Nick Jonas.

#sorrynotsorry I’m watching him sing on TV as I write this and the 16 year-old in me is giggling uncontrollably, so, you know.

 

Resolution #4: Love More in the Moment

I spent a lot of 2014 worrying. I spent a lot of 2014 crying. I spent more time missing home in 2014 than I have since I was in the third grade and discovered I was terrified of sleeping over at friends’ homes. I know, though–when I truly let myself believe it–that my family isn’t going anywhere. They want me to be happy, have adventures, and find success. And they love me whether I’m half the world away or living in their basement (probably a little bit more when I’m living half the world away). So, in 2015 I’ve made a promise to myself to explore more, find the positives, and learn to love what’s given to me.

 

Resolution #5: Embrace Myself

In the last half a year, I’ve met more kinds of people than I have my entire life. I’ve witnessed several different personalities and life philosophies played out, and I’ve realized something: I never want to be a grumpy old man with a crass mouth. I don’t care if it means I’d be able to afford a Malibu mansion. If I ever scream at someone over the phone, then I’ve failed at life. I’m going to embrace my polite upbringing. In fact, I’d like to learn more patience and kindness in 2015. Because I believe that knowing myself, embracing my personality traits, and standing by them makes me a stronger person. And I also believe there’s a difference between being mean and standing your ground.

 

So there you have it. My five resolutions for this year. There isn’t going to be any “let’s see how long I keep to these.” I will. Affirmative thinking.

 

I will also being working out regularly again, as my grandmother has informed me that I’ve gained weight. But let’s face it: some things never change.

 

-tlc

Decisions

Today I want to spend a little time talking about growing up and having to make decisions. You know, I think the real separation between God and man didn’t come with God casting Adam and Eve out of the Garden of Eden, it came when God presented Adam and Eve with the first choice (er, command?) and the naked super duo made the first decision in humanity.

This, right here, should be evidence enough that human beings are naturally poor decision makers. And yet, here lies humanity, full of choices and decisions that must be made. I bet heaven is a decision-less place–very simple, very easy.  People should never, under any circumstances, be given free reign over their own actions. That is how jackasses are born.

Am I starting to sound a bit…communistic? No? Good. Thanks, comrade.

I hate making decisions. Decision making is like a terrifying game of Russian Roulette, except you’re blindfolded, have ear plugs in, and are tied up. So in other words, decision making is attempting to do something while you have no idea what the hell is going on.

Of course, with that definition, decision making could also be like my blog…

What I really mean, though, is that life is going to chuck decisions at your head no matter what. Often, important decisions come in pairs to provide maximum amount of stress. And the truth is, sometimes you just have to decide. You might try to weigh the possibilities and risks ahead of time, but you’ll never really know until you choose one way or another. And then, you just have to roll with the results. You’re not going to make the right decision every time. But at least you made a decision and your life is moving in some direction. A lot of people (like me) are so afraid of making a bad decision or a mistake that they never make decisions at all. They get stuck in the same routines, the same life, job, career forever, and its not what they really want. But its comfortable, and its livable. What people often don’t realize is that not making a decision is making a decision. A decision not to decide.

Right now I’m at a crossroads in my life–and maybe I’ll always be at a crossroads in my life, maybe everyone is, I’m not sure–and there are multiple decisions I have to make: do I move back home to be closer to my family, or do I forge ahead on this unknown career path in LA? Do I go out with friends and burn through my savings a little faster, or do I stay home and save money, but not friends? Do I want to work in television and film, or do I want to focus my efforts more on my time outside of a career, instead of in it?

There are a lot of decisions to be made, and I hate making decisions. It’s one of the hardest things I have to do on a daily basis. But I want to make the choice right now to decide. As scary as it is, I’m not striving for stagnant. I’m working to make my mark in this world–not in a selfish way (though obviously my motivation is with my own happiness in mind) but as a way to give back to the world. I’m striving to provide my talents in a useful way to society in a light that will hopefully be beneficial, not negative. If I find a comfortable job and paycheck and just snuggle in now, that’ll never happen. So I’ve made a choice to take the rocky road instead of the smooth vanilla, and hopefully these twists and turns will lead to something good in the long run.

Until next Thursday,

Yours truly,

tlc

Mo Money, Mo Problems?

Alright, I know it’s distasteful and all to talk money, but let’s talk money.

Isn’t it nice to have money? Actually, let’s be real–it’s less about having money, and more about being able to do the things that only money can buy.

Like for example, traveling. Maybe even more specifically, traveling to visit your family, so that you don’t feel quite so much like you’re half a world away from the ones you love.

Or, you know, living in a house with two jacuzzis. Cause, like, the first one is for regular use, and the second is for when Benedict Cumberbatch comes to visit, you know, like breaking out the fine china.

Don’t get me wrong–I knowingly made the tough and possibly irrational decision to be poor–like, dirt poor–in the hopes of finding a career that I can love, but this whole working for free thing is really kind of a bummer and a total demotivator. (“Come on, Tasha, you have to get up early tomorrow morning because you don’t want to be late for work!” “Why, so they can fire me from my free labor?”)

And what’s worse is that we live in a society that perpetuates and expands the income gap. The phrase, “Money makes Money” has never wrung more true when you think about the stock market, retirement funds, or even starting a business or getting an education. If you want to save, invest, or create, you have to have money. And usually lots of it.

But I guess the thing that irritates me and gets me down the most is that I have to spend money to work for free. Honestly, getting college credit in exchange for an internship is the most ridiculous concept that capitalism has ever pooped out. I mean, it’s fantastic for employers: companies don’t even have to outsource for those teeny-tiny, mundane tasks that usually clog up workflow for paid employees. But for the students doing the internships? I’d honestly like to Chuck-Norris-round-house-kick whoever the bureaucratic you-know-what is who came up with this as the solution to preventing labor lawsuits.

I feel I must clarify here that this isn’t to say that internships aren’t valuable and students shouldn’t do them. I’d be a hypocrite if I said that, seeing as I’ve had three internships of my own. I’m not even saying that all internships need to be paid–only one of mine did. Internships are actually really useful for several reasons; my personal two reasons for choosing to do all of my internships were the industry experience and getting acquainted with what a career in said industry might look like (publishing, film, marketing, etc) and the job connections. Hey, if you’re working for free, you gotta hope that it’ll lead to something paid at some point.

All I’m saying is that 99% of us young’uns looking for internships really don’t mind working for free if we’re getting exposure to the career world we want to be a part of. But 100% are pissed when that non-existent check turns into a very real tuition bill. Honestly, how does it makes sense at all that I have to pay to work for free? You could say that I’m “paying for the experience,” but that’s a crock of bologna. Yes, I am getting experience, but 98% of that is getting coffee, filling out excel sheets, writing up mundane documents that I don’t need three months to master, etc–things that sure, I might need to know how to do in the work world, but not things that paid employees spend a lot of time doing.

And it’s not like any of us need the college credit, either. Here again, 99% are only taking this or that “internship” credit class so that we can make it past the interview rounds and actually let our bosses see our potential. Most colleges don’t require an internship credit to graduate, and most don’t even require a certain number of extra courses to graduate, so then taking this course not only risks damage to GPAs and sucking my savings dry, but it’s an extra thing on top of already crazy/busy college lifestyles.

Moral of the story (and the short version of this whole rant):

99% of us don’t mind working for free in exchange for industry experience. But the second you tack on a college education requirement, the second I begin to hate you.

Circling back to this idea of having lots of money, I realize that money is never really going to solve any of my problems. In fact, the more money you have, the more stress you have to deal with by keeping track of it all (I’m supposing, seeing as I have no first-hand experience with that). And honestly? I really like being poor in the sense that it grounds me; it forces me to really think about what’s necessary and what’s fluff, and really appreciate simple living. It helps me focus on the most important thing in life: my relationships with other people.

But it does burn me that I’m burning through my savings so that I can provide free labor via coffee runs and menial tasks. It’s especially frustrating when everything has a dollar sign in front of it, including things like writing classes that might help jumpstart my career and health costs to take care of my physical and mental well-being.

And you hear things like, “Everybody goes through it,” and “It’s what you gotta do” like free labor is some right of passage. What I find particularly discouraging about this is that, even though everyone sympathizes, no one has done anything to change it. It’s like hitting my head against a brick wall repeatedly while someone stands by and says, “Oh yeah, I definitely went through a period where I was in those shoes…guess you gotta just keep working at it.”

But then again, what can you do, besides raising a voice  to the heavens and hoping your prayers are carried across the wind? Idk, too poetic?

Alright, I gotta stop ranting before I put another abbreviation in the kitchen. (in the kitchen? I’ll stop talking now.)

Yours truly,

tlc

There’s No Place Like–SoCal?

How many times must I sound like a broken record before I start getting more consistent about updating posts here?  Sheesh, you’d think I’d moved halfway across the country or something.

Oh, wait.

Yes, it did indeed happen, yes it was just as terrifying as I thought it would be, and yes, I cried in front of strangers. Bawled, actually. Complete hysterics.

But, I’m better now, the sun is always shining, and as I like to say: I’m here, I’m not queer, and I’m ready to mingle. (Alright, I don’t actually like to say that, but when you don’t have a catchphrase…) And by mingling, no, I’m not looking to jump into the dating scene–is there one? What do people mean when they say, “dating scene”? Sheesh, it’s like we live in a freaking movie (p.s. if you know where the dating scene is, I’m having trouble finding it. SOS)–though, if Henry Cavill needs a date to the next awards show, I won’t say no. What I mean is, I’m ready to meet people and make some friends. Actually, I need to meet people and make some friends. Last night I got angry at my wall for ignoring my sorrows.

Just kidding.

Or am I?

But really. You would not BELIEVE how difficult it is to find groups of like-minded people. I’ve been searching for three weeks and I’m still struggling to find a Young Adults group to join. Would you believe that? 2nd largest city in America and nobody hangs out in organized clusters. It’s like Universities operate on some structured system to help you meet people or something…nah.  So, if you live in LA, and you want to hang out, give me a ring. No, not my phone–I’m not giving that out online, fool. A literal ring. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend, after all.

Okay, that last joke wasn’t funny. I don’t care.

For those of you out there who are still reading this for assurance that the transition from school to the real world can be survivable, don’t worry, I got your back. I have a lot I want to tell you on that subject, but for fear of making this post a monster to read, I’m going to write that into a separate post, just for you, my lovelies.

I also want to tell you all about my perception of Los Angeles since getting here.  Like my reasoning for the above, be looking for that in a separate post.

Don’t worry, they will both be coming. I’ve decided I will be updating my blog every Thursday.  Get excited.

Until then, just know that I am safe, if still a little emotionally insecure about the state of my life. But the weather is better than wherever you are (not to be snotty, but I can guarantee it is) and I’ve already had two celebrity sightings, plus I’m currently working in an industry that, until now, I’d only ever dreamed about. Oh, and I live ten minutes from the beach.

If don’t hate me enough to stop reading my blog, then I’ll see you next week for another edition of let’s-see-how-much-I-can-brag.

Yours truly,

tlc

Praying to the snow gods

Dear gods of snow,

I need this snow day. NEED it.

Okay, maybe not quite as much as some other students, who are actually behind because of their course load. But really, I could use this one.

See, my body spent the weekend being a biological incubator for what has begrudgingly (and weirdly enough, somewhat affectionately) been termed, “the crud,” and I was basically a non-cannibalistic zombie for the weekend. In other words, I watched obscene amounts of “Parks and Recreation”,  but got little else done. The saddest part is that I had gone home for the weekend to tie up some medical appointments while still on my parents’ insurance plan (yet another wonderful aspect to look forward to, come graduation day) and I had been hoping to utilize the time away to be super-productive without the lovely distractions of my home back in Lawrence.

So, considering the fact that I am still sick and don’t want to get out of bed super early tomorrow, have not had time to unpack yet, and have about a 100 things on my to-do list I could use the time for, I would really, REALLY appreciate a snow day. Two snow days, if you are so inclined in your generosity. And, considering that I now have an extra potential commitment I had not really accounted for at the beginning of the semester, and I haven’t had a chance to apply for jobs yet, a snow day would be so very, very, very wonderful.

And, to prove my busy status and inability to think super coherently because of my illness, I’m going to end my plead, and my blog post for this week here.  These are my thoughts, three weeks into my last semester of school. …Yeah.

Here’s to hoping for more time and a longer post next Monday,

Yours truly,

tlc

Shake-speared, not Stirred

Oh Graduation, how do thee freak me out? Let me count the ways:

This has been an interesting seven days.  The good news is, I’m still alive after the first week of classes.  The bad news?  I had two semi-legitimate-but-mostly-just-me-being-dramatic panic attacks.  Why?  Let me start at the beginning.

Classes started on Tuesday this semester, since Monday was an extension of winter break in observance of MLK day. I went to my first class, play writing, and was extremely excited to finally see my mentor-professor in action in the classroom.  The class itself was also very enjoyable, despite only being syllabus day. To put it simply, my expectations were pretty high after that first class. However, I was still mostly in winter break mode, as I promptly went home and watched four episodes of Parks and Recreation before heading back out into the cold for my second class.

As a creative writing major, I am exempted from one of the six core classes required by KU in order to get my B.A. in English in exchange for taking a butt-load of creative writing courses.  The incessant over-achiever in me had, however, decided that taking that sixth course–in this case, Shakespeare–would be a good idea, not because I wanted the enrichment the course would give me, but because then I could say that I graduated within both the creative writing and English literature tracks of the major. Such an honest motive, such a terrible decision.

To be perfectly honest, Shakespeare at KU does not have the best reputation.  Most of the regular professors who teach the class on rotation get mild reviews from students, perhaps leaning slightly more towards the negative side of things.  Lots of “drones on and on in lectures,” “gets easily sidetracked,” and “easy grader, difficult assignments,” etc. (Let me reiterate: these are the reviews for many, but not all, of the professors who teach this class on a rotational basis).  And to be fair, Shakespeare is probably not an easy course to teach, let alone learn. Still, I knew going into the class that it was not going to be my favorite.  However, what I was not expecting was the syllabus I was handed that first day. I think the second I read the course assignments section I began to hyperventilate a wee bit.  The class required reading twelve plays (that much I knew ahead of time; all the Shakespeare courses required that intense reading schedule) but it also included a midterm exam (granted, the exam was a take-home test), a final exam, and two 2,500-3,000 word essays (which I later confirmed with my roommate is roughly 8-10 pages double-spaced).  Now, obviously none of this is insanely strenuous, and I have done all of these–taken midterms and final exams, written papers (some of them twice as long as these word requirements)–I’ve even done a combination of test-taking and paper-writing.  However, I’ve never taken on two lengthy essays in combination with two cumulative tests and this much reading, on top of three other course workloads and job searching/post-grad planning as well.

I believe my exact inner-monologue went a little something like this: “Ain’t nobody got time for that!” 

Needless to say, I high-tailed it out of that class as fast as I could, spending the next 36 hours in pure anxiety, trying to figure out what the heck I was going to do before finally getting permission to switch into a nonfiction writing class, something that, in the long run, has way more writing involved, but is a bit more my style, as far was work requirements go.

But shortly thereafter, I began to panic again, wondering if maybe I needed to take that Shakespeare class. Or worse yet, what if I had somehow overlooked something, and wouldn’t be able to graduate this semester?  Clearly, my anxiety is well-rooted in the illogical.  A quality of my character that I am sure my adviser finds endearing and not at all overbearing.

These two incidents are actually related, in retrospect, but that hasn’t stopped me from feeling completely excessive about both.

I posted a Facebook status about my feelings of anxiety towards this latter half, actually. That’s how I can tell the emotions are getting the best of me.  When I publicize myself, I am usually looking for fast-assurance and comfort when I can find none for myself, usually in the most dramatically-worded way I can come up with.  In this case, I described the feeling as though I was forgetting to pack something for a very long trip, even though I had been over the list again and again and could not remember what it was I thought I had forgotten. Thankfully, I am friends with my adviser on Facebook, and as soon as she saw my status she recognized my call for help and double-checked for me, clarifying on my account which emphasis I was under, so that my course requirements will show up correctly for my transcripts and graduation.

So now I am reduced to simply being anxious. Not about anything in particular, but just in general.  Perhaps as the weeks progress and I begin to function more consistently within a schedule again this feeling will go away.  Perhaps it won’t. Perhaps entering the real world means a certain level of anxiety all of the time.  However, I’ve always been a bit anxious. You’d think after so many years, it would start to dull itself and become less of an issue, but I suppose that isn’t the way things work when it comes to worry. I feel that, in that way, life is a bit like being Winnie the Pooh–always a little concerned, but always searching for the bright side as well.

Perhaps, in life, we are all Pooh bears.

Here’s to hoping “It’ll be fine,” as my dear adviser would say.

Until next Monday,

Yours truly,

tlc

Tina Fey: A Response to “5 Reasons Why Amy Poehler Should be Everyone’s Role Model”

Yesterday I happened to read a great post by Thought Catalog’s Jessie Garber on why Amy Poehler should be everyone’s role model (if that wasn’t clear in the title).  I think it’s great, I really do.  Being a funny (well, hey, I try) girl myself, I love that people love strong women with strong senses humor and big hearts and minds.  The simple fact that a woman like Amy Poehler can have a huge fan base, mad respect and success in her craft–which, as far as success in comedy goes, is still largely a male-dominated talent–is incredible. High-five humanity.

However, being an avid Tina Fey fan, I think this opens up the perfect opportunity to point out why TINA should be everyone’s role model, because, let’s face it, she is the type of awesome that everyone NEEDS to strive for. So with that, I give you:

5 Reasons Why Tina Fey Should be Everyone’s Role Model

BOOM.  Let’s start this off right with #1:

Amy Poehler may be hilarious, but Tina Fey is HYSTERICAL. Also a fellow Saturday Night Live alum, Tina Fey wrote AND starred in Mean Girls and also starred in Baby Mama, but more importantly, has starred in films like Date Night along such comedy greats like Steve Carell. She wrote and starred in her hit show, 30 Rock, in which she played the strong, though relate-ably awkward, female head writer for a semi-successful comedy show.  The characters Tina plays, like Liz Lemon, are strong, successful women who are down-to-earth and keep a strong head on their shoulders.  Tina shows us all that you can–and should–laugh through all the ups and downs, and you should never stop working hard, and never stop pushing for your goals.

“I want to go to there” -Liz Lemon, aka Tina Fey

#2: Tina is a jack-of-all-trades, and her humor is transparent. She’s also three steps ahead. In 2011, she published her super-hilarious autobiography, Bossypants, a book which details a incredibly inspirational and uplifting story about a woman navigating her way through a male-dominated business, learning and loving along the way, dealing with her body and her body image, and balancing work, marriage, and motherhood in only a way Tina Fey could achieve.  Not to mention, she then did the recorded version for the audiobook edition herself, and it was even more hilarious.

#3: This awards speech: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6vLFYs2n9Go

Need I say more?

#4: She is an inspiration for all young women. A self-proclaimed “supernerd,” Fey fearlessly admits to spending her adolescence indoors, enjoying game nights with her friends, instead of falling into the endless drama and woe that is teenage dating, or getting caught up at parties or in drug use. She realizes that most teenagers are self-conscious about their social lives, and to that she says, hey, it’s okay.  Be safe, have fun, be happy. You don’t have to party to have fun or friends.

#5: Along with several charities and causes that she supports, as well as her endless resume of comedy, acting, theater, show-hosting, and writing, Tina Fey is also a wife and mother to two daughters.  Like Amy Poehler, Tina is outspoken about body image and women’s rights.  Her talent, success, and ability to navigate the waters of business and home life should be an inspiration and role model to us all.  Move over, Amy, your best friend would like to share the spotlight.

And that’s my two-cents.

-tlc