Above the Fold - Some Afterthoughts on the Aftershock of the Boston Marathon Bombings

Originally published April 20, 2013

The world felt a little different this morning when I woke up than it did yesterday, than it has all week, really.

According to news reports, the big bad wolf, "Suspect No. 2" in the Boston Marathon bombings has been taken into custody, his FBI Wanted poster updated to read 'Captured.' And the world is perceived as safe once again.

But there's been something about this whole process, something about the constant, relentless stream of confused, convoluted news coverage, that doesn't make me feel as comforted as I think Dzhokar Tsarnaev's capture was supposed to.

I started gorging on news updates yesterday morning, when I turned on NPR in my car and was informed that the better part of the entire Metropolitan area of Boston was engaged in a military state-like lockdown, with civilians being removed from or locked inside their homes until law enforcement instructed them to come out. People reported the streets of Watertown as "choked" with law enforcement personnel, marching like robots with SWAT guns up and down residential streets, determined to catch the one that got away.

Now, to begin, I was as shocked and appalled and sickened by what happened last Monday as everyone. The deaths and injuries suffered at the hands of fanatical violence was nothing short of horrifying - that there are people everywhere, even here, seemingly dedicated to harming innocent people and creating an air of chaos and fear. So catching and discovering who was responsible for this, if only to ask them why, was something I was waiting on alongside the people of Boston and the rest of this country.

But at what cost do we seek justice, and for that matter, information? From the beginning of the entire ordeal, local and national news outlets began scrambling for something, anything, to share with the general public to appease their appetite for answers. But because of this voracious hunger for blame, for a reason, the likes of the media were constantly back-peddling, correcting wrong information, recalling "persons of interests," and whiting out impetuous calls for public aid in finding the horrible, criminal, evil person that did this.

That is what has troubled me about the entire ordeal AFTER the original, awful ordeal. We are all so eager, and anxious and SCARED, that we're ready to criminalize and crucify the first person that we can match to a face on a security video. Not to mention that, in cases like these and in times like these, quality journalism is often sacrificed to the immediacy of information that comes from Twitter and Facebook and YouTube - regardless of quality. And that expansive digital exposure is conducive to nothing except, from what I've seen, a resurgence in lovely terms like, "towel head," and ignorantly, "kill that sand nigger." Practicing Muslims make up 22% of the world's population. I refuse to believe, despite what I'm being fed, that generalizing an entire group of people as fanatical, violent, and terroristic can promote any type of peace or progress.

That's not denying that social media outlets can be helpful, and sometimes even crucial, in sharing information.

But if all this information that we're being fed is fear-mongering, plagued with reactionary, retaliatory information that breeds uncertainty and anxiety, then what progress are we actually making. And at what cost? Atlanta is a long way from Boston, but I felt the fear from all those people locked in their homes, a bustling metropolis forced to become a ghost-town, trickle down the coast and make its way all the way here to me. How much has actually been done, and who has really won, if the cost of all this was the shutting down of daily life, for hours and hours; a country of people now wondering, "has terrorism finally come home?" and a 19 year old kid, in a heavily guarded hospital room, with a hole in his throat so severe that there's a good opportunity that we may never hear him say anything for himself.

I'm grateful that we may have some answers now, and I hope that we do. But this entire awful situation has me not only slightly disappointed in our aggressive need to gobble up whatever shoddy information we can get, but also in the future role that accurate news reporting will play in our lives. Because it takes a lot more effort these days to sift through it all and find non-biased, even-keeled facts.

These are very uneasy times. I hope that in our attempts to make sense of it, we aren't jumping to fear-based conclusions and instead focusing on discovering, in time, everything we can to avoid things like this happening again.

xo.

National Poem in Your Pocket Day

I won't be surprised if none of you have heard of this wonderous holiday. But after today, you'll have no excuse.

Today is Poem in Your Pocket Day. The one day of the year dedicated to carrying words that you love around with you, to share or trade or keep.

There's something comforting about keeping your favorite poet's words close to you. But there's something even cooler about the idea of leaving it somewhere, in a book or on a bench, or if you're stealthy enough, in someone else's pocket for someone else to find and share and fall in love with. It's an opportunity to start a conversation, if you decide to give yours away, add something kinda beautiful to the world that wasn't there before.

Words are important. Sharing them and what they mean to you is even more important. We're made up of everything we devour - stories, words, lyrics, and even poems. And I think it's pretty rad that there's a day specifically for celebrating that.

Happy Poem in Your Pocket Day, loves :)

Monday Night Movie Review - Double Feature - Argo and Hitchcock

I actually watched these movies last night in a vain attempt to leach out as much weekend as possible. But alas, Monday inevitably comes. Even when you stay up way too late watching great movies.

Hitchcock

"Style is merely self-plagarism."

I didn't hear much about this movie before I decided to check it out. But as a Hitchcock lover (yes, even Vertigo), I felt it was my cinematic duty to watch it. And I'm so glad I did. Anthony Hopkins is almost unrecognizable as Alfred Hitchcock and he plays the role with such a perfect nuance that it never occurs to you that it's Hopkins under all that rotund make-up. And the acting is at its best when Hopkins plays up that lesser-known Hitchcock humor. 

If I'm being honest though, and I usually am, the best part of the movie was Helen Mirren as Alfred Hitchcock's wife, Alma Reville. First of all, Helen Mirren is like, one of the classiest, sexiest ladies in movies. And she plays the role of wife to the renowned director with such impact that your mind is forced the divide the concept of starring role. Alma was Hitchcock's best friend, creative partner, soundboard, and most trusted confidant. Seeing their relationship, even in a semi-fictional portrayal, reminded me that such things actually still exist in the world. Her character is played to the hilt and she is never one-upped by her co-star or his namesake.

The movie is essentially the story of the making of Psycho and is based on the aptly titled book Alfred Hitchcock and the Making of Psycho. There are some cinematic embellishments, but the movie takes you from Psycho's conception (including a supposed bizarre obsession for Ed Gein, on whom Psycho is based, by Mr. Hitchcock) all the way to its cinematic debut and subsequent success. 

It was seriously so good. A little bit of history, a little bit of humor, and Scarlett Johansson as Janet Leigh. Boom. Go see it.

Argo

This is a long movie. But seriously, you don't even notice because it's so friggin good. Turns out Ben Affleck knows what the hell he's doing. 

Some of you may have already seen it in the theater, but I waited until it came out on Redbox because 

1. I'm too busy to go to the movies (not true).  

2. I'm cheap (super true). 

Anyways, the movie chronicles the true story of the CIA rescue of 6 Americans hiding in the Canadian Embassy, who escaped when Iranian revolutionaries stormed the U.S Embassy in Iran in the late 1970's. I obviously immediately fell in love with the set treatments and costuming, but I also absolutely loved the story. Everything built so slowly, so delicately. And its story delivered on every promise. Nail-biting. Intense. Late 1970's mustaches in full force. What more could a proud American, or anyone really, want in a movie? 

Creative liberties were obviously taken in terms of story, but I don't think it subtracted from the overall purpose of the film - which was to acknowledge one of the prouder (and those are getting fewer and fewer) moments in American and Canadian history. It highlighted a collaboration between national governments that was essentially free of ego and utterly successful. And it also made me seriously question the vastness of information we as citizens may never know.

Totally worth the time and money. And I would feel the same way even if I'd spent $12 to see it. Hey. Don't judge me. Do you know how much Nutella $12 can buy? A week's worth, at least. 

Happy Monday. 

xo. 

Update: I'd just like to mention that I'm sending nothing but love to everyone in Boston this afternoon. So, so sad. 

All images found via Google 

And It Was All Yellow

I'm not even kidding about that either. Every conceivable surface in the state of Georgia is currently covered in pollen. Spring has inevitably arrived and with it that yellow powder that seeks to send all of us into sneezy, wheezing fits. And there's no point in fighting it because the pollen count likes to hover between 5000-8000 these days. So all we can really do is wait for rain.

Well, that, and create a blog post inspired by the color of pollen. Cuz, ya know, I'm all about turning a pervasive, gross, gritty, car-smothering substance into something positive :)

So without further adieu, here are my favorite yellow things for Spring.


This amazing print from Mumu is peeeerfect for music festivals or road trips to New Orleans or any other event where you want to look fresh and bright and bohemian and cooler than everyone. And come payday, one of these beauties will have a new home in my closet. I love me some Mu.

I need a new bike to tear up the Silver Comet trail with in this beautiful warm weather. And I think this one would do just fine. It's dreamy, no?

I can never be reminded of this enough. I'd love to have these pretty words hanging over my desk. 

This bad boy needs to figure out a way to get into my kitchen so I can whip up lemon meringue pies. After I learn how to make lemon meringue pies.

This Spreading Landscape Throw from Anthropologie would be a welcome addition to any picnic basket or live outdoor music event or cuddly night on the couch hiding from those inevitable Spring thunderstorms (thatspawntornadoessometimesandscaretheshitoutofme).

Well kids, that's all the time we have for today. I'm nannying overnight and need to go load up on some mood stabilizers to make it to tomorrow.

I kid, I kid.

Kind of.

xo.

Images not linked were found via Google and weheartit.

Women I Wish I Could Be Friends With - Katharine Hepburn Edition

"Never complain. Never explain." - Katharine Hepburn

So a few years ago, when I was couch ridden and emotionally retarded having just returned home from Jacksonville, the only things I really wanted to do were:

1. spoon peanut butter out of the jar and slather it on Oreos and
2. watch Turner Classic Movies.

I wasn't really interested in showering or making a living, so I'd gorge myself on movies from the 50's and 60's as a way to distract myself from the self-pitying pit of depression I was in. Movies back then always had everything figured out in a couple hours. Innocent. Wholesome. Perfect. And one of my absolute favorites was Summertime, starring Katharine Hepburn.

In the movie, Katharine Hepburn travels as a single, middle-aged woman to Venice to live out her dream of living abroad after saving up for several years. A woman traveling alone, especially to a foreign country was practically unheard of in the 1950's. But this role was perfect for Hepburn, who was all but notorious for busting balls and breaking the boundaries for the women of her day. 

And if I haven't made it abundantly clear already, that's my kinda lady! I think some of us, myself included, take for granted how far we've come since aprons and tupperware dominated the brain space of our grandmothers. Even the fact that I get up and choose everyday NOT to put on a dress is progress. My grandmother wasn't allowed to play softball or basketball when she was a girl because her father, my great grandfather, wouldn't allow her to wear pants or shorts. But Katharine Hepburn? She said bump all that and made a conscious decision to  do whatever the hell she pleased. Once, in a studio, the crew took the trousers she wanted to wear away from her to try and force her into a dress. Instead of acquiescing, she walked around in underwear until the damn things were returned.

It was all in her blood though. She was raised by a mother who was a feminist before anyone ever even conceived of the word, an abortion rights advocate, teacher of liberal open-mindedness, and co-founder of Planned Parenthood.

And while she was resented for all this (yes - resented for a pair of pants), she never apologized. Her independence was seen as audacious and her forthright nature and imposing physical stature was an affront to the softness and gentility of women everywhere. But she held fast to it. Not unlike the way I hold steadfast to the stem of a wine glass- all but daring someone to question how man drinks I've had (note: the answer is always 2). Many chided her for quitting her career and tending to the man's man Spencer Tracy, who maaaay or may not have been married. And Catholic. Some called her feminist convictions wishy-washy. But to me at least, that's not what feminism is. It's about choices. It's about doing what you want and living like you want - not how you're supposed to because you happen to be a woman. And she did that.

Katharine Hepburn was smart, career-minded, witty as all hell, and a stunna. Who couldn't use more friends like that??

Cheers! And Happy Tuesday!

xo. 

As always, these images were taken from Google, weheartit, and amodelstudent Tumblr. I don't not own any rights to them.

The Content of Our Character

As a life-long Atlantian (turns out, that's not a word), I'm slightly more accustomed to the looming legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr than most people. Atlanta was King's hometown, and as such, his life and work were heavily emphasized topics in all my history classes and his name is emblazoned on many street signs and monuments and buildings around the city.

Every year on this day - the anniversary of his assassination on the balcony of Lorraine Motel in Tennessee in 1968 - Atlanta holds a wreath-laying ceremony. This year, in his honor, they'll launch a campaign against youth violence. 

It'd be easy for me to ignore today and write it off as another day. Most people do. But I feel like the times we're living in now aren't that different from King's. And I think that if he were alive today, he'd still be on a podium somewhere, advocating acceptance, love, and non-violent non-compliance with a government who continues to show that its best interests do not lie (lay?) with the people. I feel like forgetting his work makes his death inconsequential, and someone that was such a brave, progressive, and positive force deserves more than that.

So, for the first time in my life, I think I'll take a minute to remember. Because there are still people persecuted solely because of how they look and who they love and what gender they are. Because we're still fighting and paying for wars we can't justify. Because the city I've called home for 90% of my life, that MLK called home, would rather spend $200 million dollars on a shiny new football stadium rather than invest in infrastructure, (ya know, like the important kind), sustainable living initiatives, and aid for the disenfranchised who make city street corners their homes. Because the world today could sure as shit stand to have more people who aren't afraid to stand up and rock the boat.

Those are the best kind of people. The core-shakers. Wave-makers. The ones who want to make noise, who believe despite all odds that things can change. Apathy is rampant these days. We all feel too small and too far-removed from the big D.C to think that anything we do would ever matter. It's important to remember that shit wasn't always like that. People cared. They stood up. They marched. They voted and protested. And while it's not completely silent, the world sure it a lot quieter these days. And not for the better.

If a white girl born in 198(something) from the suburbs can manage to find relevance in the life of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s memory, anyone can. Take a minute and try. 

xo.

P.S. It's also the extraordinary Maya Angelou's birthday today. Happy Birthday!! - said as if Maya Angelou actually will be reading this.